Page 120 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

Shit shit shit.

“No way, dude, I think you’retooclever!” I say, loudly. “This is how you killed Cran, right? The Botox for Charlie’s arthritis? Inevercould have come up with that.”

Leslie laughs. “No, you couldn’t have. But I figured it out right away. That idiot, always drinking out of that stupid water backpack. He left it in the front of the office during a meeting with Merle and I just pumped it full of everything I had.”

Well, damn. Why didn’t I think of that? He was sucking on that thing on my corner the day before he died.

“That’s asupercreative way to murder someone,” I say, warmly.

“Thankyou,” she says, shooting Merle a hard look. “Nice ofsomepeople to notice.”

“Leslie, what do you say we take the syringe out and talk like adults, hmm?” I say gently. “This isn’t a Cran-style murder situation is the thing. Bit less of a creative approach this time, unfortunately. Since we’re all watching you do this.”

Leslie grunts and twists the syringe.

“MO!” Hannah cries. “Youthinkyou’re helping, but you’re not helping.”

She’s right. I need to pivot, and fast.

But before I can, Tond has clearly decided this is his chance to escape. We all watch in disbelief as he sprints across the street, clambers over the wrecked fence, leaps into the neon-yellow Ford Fiesta, and guns it, taking down the fence in thebackof the parking lot site this time so the entire construction area is open and exposed with all its sharp and pointy dangers.

Tond disappears down the alley.

But most importantly, it distracts Leslie from pumping Hannah full of Botox and gives me an idea.

Merle still has his phone.Right now, he’s probably desperate to call 911. And he wouldn’t even need to pick up the phone and say anything because they’ll have his location immediately.

So allIneed to do is whip up another distraction, and he can make the call.

Whew, Hannah’s not going to like this, but it’s what we’ve got right now. I take a deep breath.

“You don’t have any more syringes or other weapons in that baby bag, do you, Leslie?” I say.

Leslie narrows her eyes. “Why?”

I shrug. “It’s just that, well, one syringe of Botox isn’t gonna takedown all three of us. And once you push that plunger... it’s three against one.”

Hannah widens her eyes at me and mouths something sweary.

“Four,” calls Benny. “Just as soon as one of you can give me a hand.”

I can see Leslie realizing it’s true. She’s got the advantage right up until she empties that Botox into Hannah.

And then she’s got nothing.

“It’s too bad for you that this whole showdown didn’t happen over there.” I jerk a thumb toward the construction site. “You know, where there’s drills and metal pipes and all kinds of stuff. Tools for the serious, self-actualized murderer.”

Leslie takes the bait.

“I amveryself-actualized,” she says defiantly. “I am apowerhouse.”

“If you say so,” I say with a shrug.

“Idosay so.” Leslie squints over at the site, presumably trying to spot the drills and metal pipes. While she does, I throw a quick thumbs-up at Merle, and then cough and clear my throat, butof coursehe’s not looking at me. He’s still gaping at Leslie.

Come on, Merle.

Leslie gestures at me. “Go get me a self-actualized murderer tool,” she demands.