In the last episode of Special Delivery, Jesse Weller was holding a gun on Rocky while her husband, Frank, looks on. At the Weller mansion, a modern house built on the side of a canyon, a storm rages outside:
Lightning struck in the canyon. The accompanying noise of thunder caused a rumble that shook the place like a mild earthquake. A piercing, feminine scream came from the distant recesses of the Weller mansion, probably from the girl Frank had invited over, but despite all of this commotion, Jesse's gun never wavered, and Frank remained in place. All I could do was stand there and talk.
“Why kill me?” I asked. “You've got a built-in witness in the next room. One body is easy to get rid of. One cover story is easy to make up. Two bodies, two cover stories, two people who were on Earth one second and gone the next—that's hard to explain.”
Jesse's eyes twitched, but she gathered herself soon enough. “You're cute. You think you can talk your way out of this. You forget: my darling husband's girlfriend doesn't know anything. He can take her home in a few minutes and she'll be just fine. Until Rollo comes to visit her.” She practically laughed when she thought of it. Frank turned to look at her, his mouth open, his feet grappling with the floor.
“We don't have to...”
“Get dressed, Frank,” she ordered. “Take her out the back way.”
His shoulders fell. He was a good few inches taller than me but he didn't look it when he slouched off down the hall to the rooms, back where that scream came from. It didn't take long to see who wore the pants in his family, nor who wore the shirt, tie, and matching handkerchief. Jesse grinned approvingly at him, glad to see his immediate, obedient response.
She got that same look she had when I found her in my bed, but I knew the dark motives that lurked in her head were far less inviting and far more sinister. Her arm reached behind her and she pulled the curtains open, revealing the massive pool the Wellers kept in back. The rain was pouring down into it and the surface was littered with thousands of tiny explosions from the deluge. “Can you swim, dear?” she asked.
“As well as the next man,” I replied.
Jesse's grin widened. “Good. Because you're going in for a dip. I'd like to see how long you can tread water before you drown.”
“I don't suppose I could get out before that happens?”
She shook her head and ran her finger along the barrel of the gun. She opened the door to the outside and motioned me forward. The noise of the rain and distant thunder was overpowering.
I raised my hand. “I'll take my chances. Drowning you might explain, but a bullet hole in the chest takes a better story. Go on, pull the trigger.”
Maybe she would have. I saw the look in her eye at that moment and there was enough rage inside that look to slaughter armies, loot cities, and collect fees on overdue library books, but whatever evil she had planned for me was put off. A thump, like a stray wrecking ball hitting the side of the house, shook the floor out from underneath us. I landed on a knee and Jesse fell hard against the far window, just to the right of the open door. No telling what caused it but it didn't matter at the moment: that gun of hers popped out of her hand and hit the floor, and the one who got to it first was going to make all the decisions.
Who will get to the gun first? Find out in the next episode of The Adventures of Rocky Stone!
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