Royally Knocked Up by Pamela DuMond
Chapter 13
You know those female detectives that run in high heels, while they look incredibly badass, sexy, and fierce?
I’m not that girl.
I tore through the narrow streets, and careened around corners following Nick, who was on the trail of lazy eye Michael Charles Perris of Knottingwood. Corridors tapered into dark dirty alleys, as the hem of my pretty blue dress trailed through oily spills, garbage, and who knows what else on the dark ground. Possibly a mixture of chewed up cement, sandy mud, and bodily fluids.
I spotted them down a flight of stairs, older Grace Kelly running toward a yacht tied to, and hidden in the shadow of a larger vessel. Knottingwood pursued her out in the open along a pier.
“Stop!” Knottingwood said, wielding a small handgun.
He was not only an asshat, he was an armed and dangerous asshat.
Nick kept to the shadows, out of Knottingwood’s sight. He glanced up, spotted me, and frowned. “Go back,” he mouthed.
I shook my head and made my way quietly down the stairs.
“Stop, Aunt Doris,” Michael Charles Perris said to the Grace Kelly blonde. “Give me the briefcase and we can end this now.”
Aunt Doris? As in Doris Pfeffenhoofer? The woman who was supposed to be Knottingwood’s mother was actually his aunt?
I remembered the DNA kit as well as the special pen that could blind a man were in my purse. This might be my only opportunity. I unzipped my bag and fumbled around, ping-ponging my gaze from the scene unfolding below me to the contents of my chic day tote. I pulled out a lipstick, some tampons, a box of Tic-Tacs, a mini-sized ibuprofen bottle, a half eaten dog chew-toy, and a granola bar, until I found my specialized tools of the spy trade. I might not be special forces material, but I was armed and obstinate.
Grace Kelly stopped running and tried to catch her breath. “Why are you doing this, Michael?”
“What does it matter to you? Your side of the family had everything. An exciting life, a beautiful home, fun places to visit. Your children attended premiere schools. Our side didn’t have it so cushy. Pass me the briefcase.”
She kicked it over to him.
“The grass always looks greener, Michael. I gave your father scholarship funds to cover your education. I sent Christmas presents every year.”
He dropped to his knees on the dock and unlatched the bag. “You lived an exotic existence. We toiled in obscurity in the mountains in that impossibly small hamlet. Nothing was easy. Nothing was glamorous or fun. It’s my turn now. I get to live the high life.”
Nick was probably ten yards from Grace Kelly. She spotted him, and inhaled sharply, but he pressed one finger to his lips.
“Where are the photographs, Aunt Doris?” Knottingwood pulled file after file out of the briefcase, opening them before tossing each onto the pavement.
“I burned them. I will not allow you to hurt my Frederick.”
“He’s King of Fredonia now. What does he care if he shelves out a few million Euros? He’ll just get the good citizens of his country to pay for it.”
“And so you pretended to be his son? Blackmailed him with lies and deception. You’d planned to hit him with the graphic, revealing photos of a sexual nature when your DNA didn’t come back as a match?”
“Yes.”
“Those were my photos. My memories. And they’re private. You’re being a shit.”
As I made my way down the staircase, I was somewhat bummed knowing I wouldn’t have to use a DNA test swab. When my heel fell through a hole in the board, I pitched forward, landing in a heap at the bottom. “Ow!”
“Lucy!” Nick said.
“I’m fine.”
Knottingwood swiveled, and stared at me, his lazy eye widening for a second as he licked his thin lips. “No you’re not.” He pointed the gun at me.
“Michael!” Grace Kelly exclaimed. “Put the gun down.”
“I’m not leaving here without something of value.” He strode toward me, weapon aimed. “I was promised rewards and a financial windfall if I went along with this plan. I want the tiara, bitch.”
“Lucy!” Nick raced out of the shadows toward Knottingwood but he was too far away.
“It’s worthless,” I said.
“Michael.” Grace Kelly ran toward him, “Don’t hurt her. Let it go. I’ll write you a check for ten thousand Euros.”
“That won’t even buy me a seat at the roulette table in Monaco.”
“You hurt her, I’ll kill you,” Nick said.
Knottingwood turned and fired in Nick’s direction but he was just as shitty a shot as he was a person.
“Michael! Stop it!” Grace grabbed his arm but he shoved her and she flew through the air landing hard on the ground.
I pushed myself to standing and glared at Knottingwood as he approached me. “You’re an asshat. If you possess a scrap of talent or a decent bone in your body, you’d discover you don’t have to steal from people. You can earn your own living. Give it a try. What’s a little hard work? It’s good for a person. Builds backbone, integrity.”
“Who needs integrity when I can make off with the royal jewels?” He removed the tiara from my head with a smile, then turned and walked away. “And thank you for playing.”
Grace Kelly pushed herself off the ground looking frazzled. Nick circled behind Knottingwood who kept his gun trained on me. I spotted Esmeralda, Joan, Zola, Cristoph, and Captain Sam at the top of the staircase above us at the same time Knottingwood did. He aimed the gun high in the air at them.
“Don’t shoot!” I said, and knew what needed to be done. “Michael! You almost forgot the earrings. They’re a matching set. Quite lovely, really. Royal jewelry usually is, you know.”
He turned and squinted at me. “You’re not wearing earrings.”
“You’re right.” I aimed the pen into his face, clicked the end, and hoped the blinding light really worked.
“Shit!” He dropped the tiara, but was still clutching the gun, and he waved it wildly in my direction. “You bitch!”
Nick tackled him. The gun went flying across the pavement. Grace Kelly picked it up.
“I’ve had enough Michael.” She aimed in his direction.
“Lucy!” Nick said. “Run!”
He looked so scared, and so I followed his advice. I turned and ran.
“You lying, cheating, shitty, petty thief. I’m done,” Doris said.
A gunshot fired.
And for some strange reason—this time—I didn’t flinch.