Car crash—overdone. Shooting—could be passed off as job-related…but where to get gun? Knife— easier to find and to conceal…but could I get close enough? Poison—too risky. There will be a way. I’m sure of it. Get rid of the Spic, and the rest is cake.
What to do with the kid? I think she might be worth keeping alive. Fetch a high price with that hair. Maybe the Mid-East. She’s got a tongue like the Bitch, but that could be beaten out of her at this age—or cut out if it came to it.
Though it might be fun to raise her proper. I think she might like the way I’d raise her better than the Bitch’s style. Think about it.
Tomorrow up the stakes. Figure out something that will really rattle the Bitch’s chains. There has to be something that will put another nail in the coffin…
He yawned, smothering it behind his hand. One bad thing about this forced starvation of his. He was asleep on his feet by ten o’clock at night—and often earlier—unless he had motivation to stay awake—like a new playmate. Or a good fix…
Draining the last of the noodles, he tossed the empty cup at the overflowing trash can in the corner. Time to dump it before he had rats move in to share his hole. He retrieved the fallen cup and smashed it down into the receptacle. Picking up a couple of other items he’d missed the can with, he carried it down the hall to the trash chute.
As he stood in the hall, guiding the trash into the mouth of the chute, the hooker down the hall came mincing out of her room, toddling toward him on four-inch stilettos.
“Hey there, handsome,” she crooned in her smoke-whiskey voice. “Haven’t seen you around lately. You been hiding from me?”
He tried to ignore her, but as usual it didn’t work. She draped an arm around his shoulders and whispered in his ear, “For you, I’d take an IOU.” Her free hand cupped what was left of his ass.
For some reason, the whore had decided he was her private project. Some people liked a challenge. And a few liked dirty and scarred, he guessed. He didn’t know what the attraction was, but she simply wouldn’t leave him alone.
He started to tell her no—as he’d done a hundred times before—but then something stopped him. Why not…?
“Not here,” he said aloud.
“‘Scuse me, hunny?” she said, straightening away from him. Her expression was priceless. Obviously, she’d never expected him to take her up on her offer—he supposed even hookers had some standards.
“Why not?” he answered with a brittle smile. “But not here. Somewhere…less public.”
“My room…?” He had rattled her, and the knowledge sent a thrill through him.
This could be fun.
“No. Not here in the building. Too many people who know us here. Might be…bad for your business. I know a place.”
“S-sure,” she murmured—looking as if she would give anything to take back the offer. “But it has to be a quickie…a girl’s got to make a living, y’know.”
“Oh, it’ll be quick—I promise.”
He was no longer tired. Adrenaline surged through him. “Let me just get rid of this trash can and grab my coat. Why don’t you meet me out front?”
“Okay.” She staggered on down the hallway, looking as if she’d had a liquid dinner.
If she was still outside when he got there, he’d put his plan into motion. If not, no great loss…but he found himself hoping she’d be waiting.
He ducked into his room and grabbed his jacket, feeling the pockets to make sure the recorder was in its place, and that the contents of the other pockets were as they should be as well.
Satisfied, he locked the door to his room and took the key back to the night manager.
“Going back out?” asked the coke-head incredulously.
“For a few minutes. Need to pick up a prescription,” he lied, figuring it was something the kid could relate to.
“Cool. Remember—front door locks at midnight.”
The skellyman glanced at the clock behind the kid’s shoulder. It was about 9:30.
“I’ll be back in plenty of time,” he promised.
Heading out into the chill of the night, he was pleased to see the hooker standing huddled in her faux fur jacket in the circle of light cast by the lone streetlight still burning on this forgotten road. He joined her and threaded his arm through hers.
“I’ve got just the place for our little rendezvous. There’s probably something by way of refreshment available too, if you get my drift.”
The girl’s face lit up at the thought of a drink. In the glare of the streetlight, he realized she was younger than he’d realized, probably the child side of twenty. But that made it all the better. He smiled at her, anticipating what was to come.
Chapter 42
After the phone call, Brenda didn’t feel much like hanging around the old homestead. For the first time since Ethan’s insurance had come in and she’d paid off the mortgage, she began to seriously contemplate the possibility of selling the place and moving somewhere else with the proceeds.
She knew how Mary would react to such an action. She’d go ballistic. “Throwing away the bird in the hand in case there was a better one in the bush!” She could almost hear her mother’s voice.
But maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It might be worth her mother’s histrionics to get a clean start. New house, new neighborhood…new life. Maybe she’d go back to school and get a degree she could actually use.
“Nickel for your thoughts,” said Phillip softly.
“Huh?”
“Well, I figure’d I’d account for inflation.” He grinned.
“Sorry…it’s just…that phone call was so weird. A piece of music. Nothing else. No words, no nothing. It rattled me a bit.
“I’m not being very good company right now,” apologized Brenda with a sigh. “I’ve had about all I can take. I was just thinking how wonderful it’d be to start over somewhere new. A place where no one has ever met me before, and Ethan and Robbie can rest in the past.”
“Not too far away, I hope.” He reached out to cup her cheek. “I’d really hate that.”
She laid her hand over his with a brief pressure, managing a weak smile.
“One day at a time, okay?”
Phillip nodded, dropping his hand.
“Fair enough. Now, you wanted to get some things while we were here, didn’t you?”
“Right.” She led the way to the bedroom and pointed to a suitcase on the shelf of the closet. “Can you hand that down to me?”
“Sure.” He reached up to lift it down, and she watched the play of muscle appreciatively.
When he turned to lay the case on the bed, she had her expression carefully under control.
“Thanks.” She dragged some of her more business-like outfits out of the closet and folded them into the suitcase as best she could. It didn’t take long. Her non-tee-shirt-and-sweat wardrobe was pitifully small. If she did decide to hit the workplace again, it was yet another potentially huge expense to consider.
“You need anything else?” Phillip asked, scanning the room.
“I guess I should get Daisy a few more things too. Mother hates to do laundry, and I hate to give her anything to complain about.”
They moved on to Daisy’s room. Brenda had forgotten about the Day of the Dead artwork, and it gave her quite a turn when she first stepped through the door. She grimaced.
“I hope Daisy has forgotten about all the skeleton stuff by now,” she confessed. “Can you believe she wants to be one for Halloween?”
“Daisy strikes me as her mother’s daughter. If she has her heart set on something, she’s going to get it. But maybe you can change her mind.”
“Worth a shot, I suppose,” she sighed. “I saw the cutest princess dress at the costume shop the other day.”
“I’m off early tomorrow. How about I pick the two of you up from the school tomorrow afternoon and we take her to get it?”
“That would be fun—if you’re sure Penny won’t mind.”
She so envied the camaraderie existing between Phillip and Penny. It was what she’d hoped for with Robbie and Daisy. She’d never had that bond, and neither had Ethan.
Folding a last sweater into Daisy’s bag, she closed the case.
“I guess that’s it. What time is it?”
“A little after nine,” Phillip answered, glancing at his watch.
“That’s probably a bit late to drop by and leave these things for Daisy. I’ll take them over there tomorrow. Right now, I just want to curl up in bed with a smaltzy romance novel and forget about everything for a while.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” he agreed—though she flattered herself there was a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
He carried both cases to the car for her, and helped her in.
“I’ll keep Daisy’s suitcase in the car so you don’t have to lug it back and forth to school tomorrow,” he offered.
“That’d be great.”
“Let’s get you back to Penny’s.” Phillip started the car.
She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “You can take the scenic route,” she said softly.
Phillip glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised.
She cocked her head. “Maybe through the park?”
He grinned. “That sounds like fun.”
He drove as quickly as the speed limit would allow, parking under a large tree in the deserted park.
“You do know there’s a curfew?” he murmured, reaching across the console and unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Isn’t that 10:00?” she answered, sliding across the gap.
“I guess we have a little time left.”
This time, she initiated the kiss.
Long before she wanted to stop, Brenda forced herself to move back into her own seat. “We should be getting back to Penny’s now. School starts earlier than you think, and she’s counting on me.”
“I guess you’re right,” Phillip said with a sigh, tracing her cheek with a long caress. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to be caught breaking curfew.”
He eased the car into motion.
Brenda let her head fall back against the seat. It seemed like her entire life lately was traveling between places in cars.
She missed just sitting still, safe and secure in the knowledge her family was intact and busy about their own activities—but she guessed those days were gone forever.
Yes, going back to school might be just the thing. It’d get her mind off the aching loneliness of losing Ethan and help her focus on moving forward with her life. She’d talk to Daisy about it and see what the child thought about losing some of mama’s attention for a while…
As soon as they pulled up to the B&B, Penny rushed out to meet them.
“Phil, the station called—they tried the house, and your cell, but you didn’t pick up so they called here.”
“Damn, I must have forgotten to turn my cell back on after the movie.”
“How irresponsible can you get? Honestly, Phillip! Sometimes you act like a child—”
He cut her off. “What was the message, Penny?”
“They said they need you to come in immediately.”
“But I’m off today,” he replied, pulling Brenda’s suitcase out of the car. “What could be so important?”
“I’m not sure.” Penny glanced at Brenda uneasily. “They just said to give you that message, and tell you to hurry.”
Phillip sighed. “Okay. Let me take this upstairs, and I’ll head right over.” He started into the house.
Brenda frowned at Penny.
“Is there something wrong?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” replied the teacher unconvincingly. “I’m just his answering machine.” She tried to laugh it off, but the sound was brittle.
“I think I’ll head up to bed then,” Brenda told her. “I’m feeling a bit tired, and if I’m going to go in to the school with you tomorrow—”
“If you don’t feel up to it, it’s perfectly all right,” answered Penny, her words practically tripping over one another. “With all you’ve been through lately.”
Brenda was puzzled. “Don’t you want me to go?”
Penny was saved from a reply when Phillip came bounding out of the house.
“I set your bag in your room,” he told Brenda. “I’d advise you to turn off your cell and get some rest.”
He kissed her swiftly on the cheek and jumped into the car, backing out of the driveway with a squeal of tires.
Penny cleared her throat. “Don’t you think it might be a little early for that…?” she asked softly.
Brenda felt her cheeks burn.
“I—we—he…it was nothing,” she finally stammered. “Phillip is just…very demonstrative.”
“Oh, I know all about what Phillip is,” replied Penny, her voice decidedly cool. “Be sure you know what you’re doing…that’s all I’m saying.” She turned and walked into the house, back stiff.
Brenda followed her, mind whirling in confusion. What the hell is going on with my life?
Everything seemed to be piling up around her. And the stacks were mighty precarious.
Once she got to her room, she debated taking another bath, but opted instead for popping one of her pain pills and curling up with the book she had mentioned to Phillip.
It was a silly romance, with an impossibly perfect hero and a brave but diminutive heroine who he seemed to carry from place to place an awful lot. Halfway through, the plucky female lead had already twisted an ankle, fallen off a horse, and eaten a bad shellfish, but she still managed to convey the impression of cool, well-dressed breeding wherever she went. Even while puking her guts out, presumably.
Brenda was fascinated. Maybe instead of going back to school, she really should sit down and write a romance novel. After all, if this was what the public wanted, how hard could it be…?
She shook her head. Who am I kidding? It might look easy, but I’ve known a couple of aspiring authors in my day, and they work a lot harder than anyone else I know. School will take up a lot less of my Daisy-time than writing a book, for sure.
The medication kicked in, and the edges of her world began to go a bit fuzzy. With a jaw-cracking yawn, she set aside the book and snuggled down beneath the yellow comforter. This room was so inviting. She had felt so welcome here this morning when Phillip first brought her over. But something had changed while they were out, and she hadn’t a clue what it might be.
Putting it all out of her mind, she closed her eyes, hoping to drift off quickly…in fact, the transition was so quick she didn’t even notice it.
The next thing she knew, there was a tapping outside the door. Struggling up from the morass of dreams she’d sunk deeply into, she sat up in bed. “Who is it?” she called sleepily.
Penny opened the door, bustling in with a tray.
“Here’s the breakfast part of the B&B,” she said, with an airy grin. Whatever had been upsetting her the night before seemed to have disappeared. “Hope you like your eggs scrambled.”
“Perfect,” Brenda replied, dangling her legs off the side of the bed.
“Oh, don’t get up!” Penny scolded. “You lie right there. Breakfast in bed today. Don’t get used to it—but I thought it would be nice your first morning with us.”
She brought the tray to the bed, uncovering the plate with a flourish. Eggs, bacon, and home-baked biscuits.
Brenda took a deep breath, soaking up the scent of it.
“Smells delicious,” she murmured, focusing on the steaming cup of coffee beside a glass of juice. “Just what I need!”
“Well, I hope you like it,” Penny beamed. “Oh…and about last night…” The smile faded from her face.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Brenda assured her. “You had every right—”
“No, no I didn’t. It’s just…Phil’s my baby brother, and I can’t help but wor
ry.” The smile flashed on and off.
“I totally understand. And if you don’t want me to come to the school today—”
“Oh, but I do! Please. I could really use the help. Speaking of which, I’d better run and get dressed. Eat your breakfast—you’ll need the energy. We’ll be leaving in about an hour.”
She paused at the doorway. “Would you like some background noise while you eat?”
“That’d be great,” Brenda answered, buttering a roll.
Penny nodded and clicked on the TV as she headed out of the room.
Suddenly, Brenda lost all appetite. The immaculately-groomed reporter was breathlessly giving the scoop about a vicious murder committed the night before—and she was standing outside Brenda’s house.
Chapter 43
The skellyman skulked in the shadows across the street from the television crew, a baseball cap pulled low on his shaved head, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and gloated. He couldn’t have arranged things any better if he had—oh wait…he had.
Down to the last detail—that the girl would be found sprawled on the marriage bed, naked except for one of Robbie’s old jerseys. He closed his eyes, savoring the memories of the night before.
It’d been so satisfying, breaking into the house through the back door—the Bitch must finally have had the locks changed. Surprised it took so long.
The girl had been awestruck at the size of the house. “Who lives here?” she’d asked, spinning in circles in the living room like some kid. “This sure ain’t your house. If it was, you wouldn’t be hanging out in that dive ’cross town.”
“An old friend.”
“You busted a friend’s door? Won’t that cause a hassle?”
“She won’t mind. Want a drink?”
Predictable as ever, the rum was just where he expected to find it. The Bitch never drank anything else.
He’d sloshed a bit of Coke into a full glass of rum for the hooker.
“Not having anything?” she asked, knocking back half the glass in one huge gulp.
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