Love Notes

by Penny Mickelbury

  She jumped out of the car and slammed the door and Tim followed silently. They stood within the clump of trees and stared into the distance. It was a wide, open field and while it was not exactly flat, there was little protection, either from the elements or from someone witnessing their approach. The barn they were looking for was somewhere out there in that field, and the people they were looking for possibly were in the barn.

  “Tim...”

  “I’m with you, Boss, all the way.”

  She nodded and they started across the quasi-soggy land. It hadn’t been cold enough long enough to cause a hard freeze, so there were patches of ice interspersed with ankle-deep mud. Both Gianna and Tim wore fleece-lined hunting boots so they managed the terrain without great difficulty. But they knew they were easy targets. They crouched as low as possible and moved as rapidly as possible through the field and the scraggly stalks that scratched, slashed and burned their faces.

  Tim stopped suddenly and touched Gianna’s arm and pointed to the ground: Tire tracks entering the field from a different direction. Big, deep tracks, from a truck. They turned simultaneously and looked behind them to see where the tracks had begun. They were fresh and they came from a rutted farm road and they led into a stand of trees that rose, incongruously, from the middle of the field, oasis-like. Gianna and Tim took out their weapons, chambered rounds, and crept toward the clump of trees, keeping one eye on the tire tracks and the other on the landscape. They slowed as they reached the trees and, back-to- back, weapons outstretched, they sidled into the thicket. It was like entering a deep forest. It was darker and quieter and much colder. Then Gianna gasped and Tim whirled around to see why. There sat Mimi’s 1966 Karmann Ghia, the front end smashed all the way into the back seat.

  “It’s Mimi’s.

  “I know, Boss,” Tim whispered before crawling toward the car and looking inside. He couldn’t get either of the doors open but he managed to get his head inside, and one arm. He backed out and crawled back to Gianna. “No one inside,” he whispered. “And Boss? There’s no blood or...or anything...just this,” and he gave her the cell phone that Mimi had tossed on the back seat less than twenty-four hours earlier.

  Gianna took the phone, punched it on, and saw the low battery message. Willing herself not to react, she punched the phone off, stuck it in her pocket, and they resumed their crawl through the trees. When they emerged they had a direct, clear view of the tobacco curing barn, and anybody in the barn had a direct, clear view of them. They ducked back into the trees.

  “We could wait until dark,” Tim said.

  “We’d freeze to death before it got dark. I’m going to walk up to the door. Tim, you go back the way we came, circle around, and approach from the rear. The element of surprise, such as it may be. I’ll give you,” she looked at her watch, “fifteen minutes.” He started to say something and she waved it off. “Get going, Tim,” she ordered, and he loped off, neither crouching nor being especially quiet.

  Gianna took Mimi’s phone from her pocket and held it close to her face, wanting to capture Mimi’s scent, but it was cold. She stashed the phone in her pocket and walked over to the car thinking of the times she’d admonished Mimi to charge the damn phone and to buy a new car; remembering how Baby Doll, a young prostitute whom Mimi had befriended, had, when she discovered the worth of the classic VW, advised Mimi to sell it and buy herself a real car. Gianna looked at the wreck—weak and tiny and helpless—and her brain shut down. She could not put Mimi in a picture that included this awful mess of a car. She looked at her watch again and hoped that Tim was moving fast because she was about to cheat him out of five minutes of his time. Mimi, who could be injured, could need those five minutes.

  Mimi was not injured but she was tired, cold, hungry, and angrier than she’d ever been in her life. She’d spent the night in the top of a barn, in frigid darkness, tied to a chair, while stupid, drunk Trudi’s stupid, drunk brother, Jodi, was riding around in, and ultimately destroying, her classic VW. They’d laughed about it, the stupid, drunk siblings, and then had discussed how much they could sell the car’s parts and components for. What parts there were remaining.

  Mimi had studied them, brother and sister—twins—and had been first amazed by their similarities, and then frightened by them. Certainly they were similar physically: tall, lean, blonde and blue-eyed, with thick, abundant curly hair. Trudi’s face, however, was more angular than Jodi’s, her mouth a thin line, while her brother’s lips were full and beautifully shaped. They’d definitely shared the same egg. And they shared another trait: They were cruel. They enjoyed causing misery to others and they enjoyed watching others in misery. Mimi pitied any pets they might have had as children; pitied any friends they might have had.

  They had debated whether Mimi would be more miserable left alone with bright light shining in her face—the barn was equipped with a generator—or whether the darkness would be more frightening. Mimi refused to give them a hint, so they’d decided on darkness, after agreeing not to let her use the bathroom and taking bets on whether she’d have wet herself by morning. She hadn’t, but only by sheer force of will and her own mean streak. She was damned if she’d show weakness to Trudi and Jodi Thompson.

  Her resolve wavered when, shortly after sunrise, they returned, dragging Peggy Carter up the wooden ladder to the barn loft and accompanied by a woman who resembled them enough to be another sibling. Triplets, for crying out loud! The new woman carried a chair and a length of rope and she tied Peggy to it while Peggy begged her to be careful of her hands. Mimi pretended not to know who she was and waited until their captors left to speak to the older woman, who was frightened out of her wits.

  Mimi identified herself and, hoping to relax Peggy, explained how she came to be tied up in a barn. Instead, Peggy Carter began to cry and it was some minutes before she could explain herself. And the more Peggy talked—about herself and Sandra Mitchell and Trudi—the more despairing Mimi grew, until Peggy said through her tears, “I guess I’m really here because that police lieutenant changed her mind.”

  “What police lieutenant?”

  “Maglione is her name and she told me not to tell anybody about my relationship with Sandy but Trudi knew. She hit me just like she hit Sandy and she said she’s going to kill me, just like she killed Sandy.” Peggy’s tears began again, and, for the first time, tears formed in Mimi’s eyes. But they were a different kind of tears.

  “She didn’t change her mind, Peggy.”

  “How do you know that? You said you’ve been here since yesterday and I talked to her on Saturday morning. Unless...did you talk to her before you got here?”

  “We had an appointment on Saturday afternoon and she cancelled it and she didn’t come home Saturday night and she was still at work Sunday morning. That means she’s probably looking for Trudi right now. Probably looking for us.” There has been a development. “Anyway,” Mimi said, “she doesn’t change her mind too often.”

  Peggy’s tears stopped as suddenly as if someone turned off the faucet and she turned as far toward Mimi as her bound hands and feet would allow. “I guess that means is you’re on better than mere speaking terms with our pretty lieutenant. And if I were a bit younger, I’d give you a run, Miss Patterson.”

  Mimi gave Peggy a sideways look. “Given the way you play the piano and sing, you don’t need to be a day younger, Miss Carter. Gianna’s a sucker for an acoustic piano and a sexy love song.”

  Peggy sniffed and said archly, “So I’ve noticed.”

  It was snowing when Gianna emerged from the copse of trees, flurries, really, so fine and sporadic they hadn’t penetrated the tree tops. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and, keeping her eyes on the barn, walked toward it. Not slowly, not rapidly. She just walked, one foot in front of the other, and when she got to the door it opened and she looked into the same face three times. Stared, really, at the three of them: Tall, lean, beautiful, thick, curly blonde hair, mean blue eyes. Two girls, one boy, the boy a b
it thinner and not as attractive but more effeminate than the girls. But those distinctions required close scrutiny, and the time to scrutinize. A quick glance, in the dark, and either of them could be mistaken for the other. She looked at the girls more closely. One of them had longer hair, almost shoulder length, the roots light, the ends much darker. The arm of a pair of tortoise shell glasses stuck out of the pocket of her plaid flannel shirt. This is who Millie was kissing.

  Gianna looked into the eyes of the other woman. “You stood me up the other day, Trudi, which really pissed me off. They don’t teach good manners where you’re from, I guess.”

  Trudi’s eyes widened, then narrowed as recognition took hold. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Don’t matter who she is,” the boy said, and grabbed Gianna by the arm and yanked her inside. She stumbled and went down to her knees and took a hard kick to the ribs, which flattened her. She lay there for several seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the semi-darkness of the barn, looking for Mimi, for a place where she could be hidden. Then she rolled over to a sitting position and faced her attackers.

  “Erin said I’d find you here,” she said to Trudi, still ignoring the other two. “And I’d guess that Jackie Marshall, now that she knows about what’s happening in her barn, will send you packing again. Might even have you arrested this time, Trudi.”

  Trudi’s foot shot out but Gianna saw it coming and rolled over and quickly up and began to backpedal. The boy was too good for that. In two strides he was upon her. He snatched her by the arm, whipped it around behind her, grabbed her other arm, and pinned them together in one hand, as if he were handcuffing her. With his other hand he patted her down. He was a cop! It was he who knew that killing their victims in so many different jurisdictions would confuse the police; he was who knew that it would take forever to connect the killings, if ever they were connected. It was this man who had orchestrated a near successful string of serial killings. And now he knew who she was.

  “Trudi, you idiot, she’s a cop,” he said, brandishing her gun and badge. “Now we’re fucked.”

  “I told you we couldn’t trust Erin,” the other girl said. “She doesn’t give a shit about you anymore, Trudi, why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

  “Fuck the both of you,” Trudi said, walking up close to Gianna, so close that Gianna had to tilt her head back and look up to meet her eyes because Trudi was several inches taller. “What did you want with me?”

  “To tell you that we found Sandy’s correspondence with you, the emails you told her to destroy. She didn’t, just like she didn’t do most of what you told her to do. She’d hidden all your little love notes in a folder behind some books. You searched her place, or maybe the officer back here searched, but you missed it.” Gianna winced as the boy behind her tightened his grip on her arms and pulled up.

  “Damn it, Trudi!” the other girl whispered, “I told you she was wrong from the beginning. I knew she was wrong, I just knew it. She wasn’t like the others. I told you that but you wouldn’t listen, and now look at the mess we’re in.”

  A nauseous rage welled up within Gianna. Not only did these people target and victimize women, they traded them back and forth like game pieces. This is the girl who was kissing Millie and wooing Sandy, not Trudi. Or maybe they took turns.

  Trudi whirled around to face her. “Shut up, Ursula!” She turned back to Gianna and Gianna was ready for her.

  “And that wasn’t your only mistake, Trudi. You all are pretty good but Mr. Macho back here isn’t as good a cop as he thinks he is or he wouldn’t have washed out. And you did wash out, didn’t you? Not smart enough? Not able to follow orders? Don’t play well with others?”

  The snatch up on her arms this time made her cry out and she dropped to her knees, bringing him down with her. She tried to twist out of his grip but this was no drunken Irishman, slipping and sliding on the ice. He gut-punched her and she went limp, which earned her another kick in the ribs. She didn’t know how much more time she could buy Tim and unless he could get into the barn without being seen, he wouldn’t be much help alone anyway. And at this rate, she wouldn’t be much help to him.

  “We gotta get outta here,” Ursula said. “Trudi, you hear? I’ve had enough of your little game. You paid ‘em back, you got even, now let’s go! I’m not going to jail because you think you got a golden pussy.”

  Behind Gianna, the boy snickered. “She’s right, Trud, enough’s enough. And I ain’t gonna kill no cop, golden pussy or not.”

  “What difference does it make? It’s just one more.”

  “It’s a cop, you stupid cunt! Let’s tie her up and leave her here with the other two, and let’s get outta here. We got more than enough money and stuff now.”

  Gianna’s breath caught in her chest. She was inhaling when he jerked her up and the surprise of hearing that there were two hostages almost choked her. Mimi and who else?

  “I’m not leaving that old bitch alive, you hear me, Jodi? We can’t leave her alive. I can’t let two women dump me for old bitches, you know I can’t do that! Don’t make me do that, Jodi!” Trudi was sobbing hysterically. She’d transformed from a snarling menace to a slobbering mess in an instant, her speech virtually unintelligible as she moaned about two old bitches taking her women from her, one of them Black.

  Peggy Carter? Had to be. Gianna inhaled deeply and then exhaled deeply. Slowly and rhythmically, she inhaled and exhaled several times more, clearing her mind, easing the pain of the new punches and kicks as they increased the pain of those from the day before, compliments of an Irish gunrunner.

  Peggy was being held hostage with Mimi somewhere in the darkness of the barn, waiting for Gianna to devise some kind of plan to free them. But there was no possibility of that; she was as trapped as they were. Jodi had her weapon and most likely one of his own. She didn’t think Trudi or Ursula had weapons but she couldn’t be certain. She couldn’t be certain of anything except that Mimi possibly was injured and that Peggy Carter was sixty years old and possibly injured as well.

  “Fuck a duck,” she muttered.

  “What did she say?”

  Jodi giggled behind her. “She said, ‘fuck a duck.’ I haven’t heard anybody say that in years. Knew a dude from Australia used to say that. You from Australia?” Jodi pulled up on her arms to indicate that he expected an answer and Gianna shook her head. “Where, then?”

  “Philadelphia,” she said, and all hell broke loose. Gunfire, an explosion, blaring horns, shouts, and screams, all at once. Gianna twisted free of Jodi, dropped to the ground, and scurried off on all fours, though she wasn’t certain that she was evading danger since the noise that filled the barn seemed to come from everywhere all at once.

  “Police! Everybody freeze!”

  “Police officer! Nobody move!”

  Tim and Linda. Gianna obeyed the order and didn’t move, wouldn’t move until she knew what was happening, but she did open her eyes. Daylight was pouring into the barn, compliments of the big Chevy Suburban that had created a new door at the rear. Tim McCreedy was standing on top of it firing his Glock into the air.

  Gianna looked toward the front of the barn just as the door opened a crack, letting one of the tall, lean bodies slip out. She struggled to her feet and sprinted to the front door and out. Already the runner was thirty yards away, high stepping through the stalks. Gianna guessed it was Jodi and she knew she’d never catch him so she turned back to the barn and, utilizing the sliver of space in the open door, she slithered back in. Tim no longer was on top of the truck, she didn’t know where Linda was, and it was deadly silent inside. Gianna merged into a shadow on the wall and stood there, regulating her breath.

  Suddenly the Suburban’s lights went on, illuminating everything in front of the truck. Gianna scanned the area. Linda had one of the women pinned to the floor, handcuffing her. She crawled over to them and looked at the woman. It was Ursula. Nobody else on the floor and no place for anyone to hide. She looked up. Nothing
on three walls. A second floor running the length of the barn on the far side, a wooden ladder leading upward mid-way the wall. The lights went out and Gianna remained where she was, waiting for Tim to come to her.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered, and when she nodded, he asked if she still had her weapon. Then he asked if she knew where it was, and the three of them shared a moment of regret at her negative response. It never went down well when a cop lost a weapon to a perp.

  “Mimi and Peggy Carter are upstairs in that loft and Mimi may be hurt and I think Trudi Thompson is up there with them.”

  Linda asked, “How in hell are we going to get up there without getting nailed? Does she have your weapon?”

  Gianna shook her head and Tim shook his, though for a different reason. “That business with the truck was my last, best trick, Boss.”

  Gianna looked up at the loft. Trudi and maybe a length of piano wire and a few minutes to herself. She sprinted for the wooden ladder. Tim and Linda followed. She stopped at the bottom, turned and whispered, “When I’m halfway up, start shooting, and then follow.” Her last best trick was to hope that Trudi was still unraveled and that the wild firing of guns so near would bring her the rest of the way unglued.

  The screaming began almost immediately as Gianna scrambled up the ladder as fast as she could, oblivious to the splinters she was gathering along the way. Trudi was at the top of the stairs, hands over her ears, screeching and mumbling. Gianna knocked her down and pinned her to the floor until Eric and Linda could subdue her. She was still screaming and sobbing when the ambulance arrived.

  So was Peggy Carter. She said she’d rather not have learned that Sandy was leaving Trudi to be with her. Knowing that she’d lost her last chance at love was worse than not having had it, she said. There was no song that gave words to her feelings and Peggy Carter said she knew all the lost love songs.

  Mimi was so angry she was rigid. Gianna had untied her and after making certain she was uninjured, helped her down the ladder. She refused, as did Peggy, to play it safe and accept ambulance transport to the hospital. Peggy stretched out in the back seat of the Chevy Suburban that still was parked in the middle of the garage. Gianna walked Mimi outside to get some air and to get her calm and rational enough to talk. She said she wasn’t hurt or scared. She was mad.