‘The pits. I didn’t have much appetite.’
‘You told her?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How’d she take it?’
‘Not good.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘She just wouldn’t stop crying.’
‘Where did you tell her? At the restaurant?’
‘At her place. After dinner.’ He shook his head. ‘God, it was awful. It made me feel like such a bastard.’
‘This’ll make you feel better,’ Dani said, leading him across the bedroom. She slid open the glass door and stepped outside. The overhead lights were off. The pool shimmered pale blue. The Jacuzzi at its near corner bubbled red like a cauldron. Towels were stacked beside it. A pair of wine glasses stood alongside the ice bucket. The neck of a bottle protruded from the ice.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Jack said.
Turning to him, Dani opened her robe and let it fall away. She tugged at his necktie.
He was smiling, shaking his head. ‘You’re pretty fantastic, you know that?’
‘I figure you had a rough night.’ She dropped the tie and began to unfasten his shirt, her hands fumbling with the buttons as he stroked her breasts. When the last button was open, she unbuckled his belt. She unhooked the waist, lowered the zipper, and drew down his slacks and shorts. Smiling up at him, she lightly squeezed his scrotum. Her fingers curled around his erect penis, moved up it. ‘Did you save yourself for me?’ The words seemed to slip out, shocking her.
Jack laughed. ‘It weren’t easy, babe. I had to fight her off.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, as a matter of fact. She wanted one to remember me by.’
‘Did she say that?’
‘Not exactly. I don’t know. Maybe she thought it’d change my mind.’
‘Maybe it would’ve.’
‘I didn’t stick around to find out.’
‘I’m glad. It would’ve been lonely in the Jacuzzi.’ She leaned into him for a brief kiss, stroking his back, rubbing herself against the soft hair of his chest, feeling his hardness against her belly. ‘I feel sorry for her, though.’
‘And guilty?’
‘A little.’
‘Don’t. I would’ve broken up with her anyway. I knew I didn’t love her. Even before I met you, I knew that.’ He kissed the tip of Dani’s nose. ‘I do love you.’
She hugged him tightly, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. ‘I . . . I love you, too.’
For a long time, they held each other and didn’t speak. Dani felt very strange: comfortable, lazy, excited, out of focus. Though she’d been sure Jack loved her, his words somehow made it different. She felt close to him as she never had before. ‘Guess this calls for a celebration.’
‘Well, you’ve got the right fixin’s.’
They climbed down into the spa. Standing in the waist-high swirl of hot water, Dani filled the wine glasses. She handed one to Jack, and sat beside him. ‘To us,’ she said.
‘You and me, babe.’
They clinked their glasses, and drank. Dani scooted down a bit. The seething water wrapped over her shoulders. She felt Jack’s hand on her thigh.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘tell me about your face.’
She stared down at the red light near her feet, and took a deep breath. ‘A guy . . . he roughed me up a bit at the movies.’
‘You went to the movies? Alone?’
‘Not alone.’
‘Oh?’
‘Tony came by.’
The fingers tightened on her leg.
‘I didn’t know what to do, Jack. He was feeling real down. He’d just found out his mother had died.’
‘He came over to cry on your shoulder?’
‘Apparently, he doesn’t have any other friends.’
‘That hardly comes as a surprise.’
‘I felt sorry for him. You would’ve, too, if you’d been here.’
‘He must’ve known I was gone. What time did he show up?’
‘A little after five.’
‘Just after I left? The bastard was probably watching the house. Whatever possessed you to let him in?’
‘He sort of let himself in. I was out here. He came through the gate.’
‘My God, the nerve of that kid.’
‘It’s all right, Jack.’
‘He didn’t try anything funny?’
‘He behaved himself fine. At least till we were in the movies.’ She told about Tony grabbing the girl, about the boy friend scrambling onto her and pounding Tony, about getting kicked out of the theater.
‘At least the jerk got what was coming to him,’ Jack said.
‘He was really messed up.’
‘Good. He deserved it. About time somebody laid into him. I wouldn’t mind doing it myself. Christ, he comes sneaking by the first time I’m gone . . .’
‘He needed someone, Jack.’
‘Yeah. You.’
‘He’d just lost his mother.’
‘Mighty good timing on the old gal’s part.’
Dani turned to Jack. He took a sip of wine and met her gaze. Under the water, his hand stroked her thigh.
‘You think I’m pretty callous, huh?’
‘I know better. It’s just that you’ve got this thing about Tony.’
‘Yeah, this thing. He scares me. He’s a sneak and a lunatic and he wants you. What’ll he do the next time you’re alone? Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess. His father has just passed away, and he’s oh so sad . . .’
‘Jack!’
‘I’m sorry, but from what I’ve seen of our friend Tony, I’d bet a month’s salary that his mother didn’t die today. He made it up to get your sympathy.’
‘Nobody’d do that.’
‘Tony would.’
She stared at Jack, all the evening’s events rushing through her mind. She felt dazed at first, then outraged. She knew that he was right. Tony had lied, used her sympathy like a weapon to force his way in. ‘How could he do that to me?’
‘Because, my dear, he’s a slimy bastard.’
‘He’s had it.’
Jack patted her leg. Then his arm lifted out of the water and lowered behind her shoulders. He held her close against him. ‘Time to rethink our position on Tony.’
‘I don’t want to see him again.’
‘Next time he shows up, I’ll point that out to him.’
‘The dirty little shit.’
‘On the other hand, maybe his mother did die today.’
‘Sure,’ Dani muttered. ‘I’ll believe that when I see the death certificate.’
23
DEAR MOM, and Bob,
Please don’t worry about me. I’m all right. I can’t stand it with these murders, however. I may just be paranoid, but I knew Joel and Arnold and I keep thinking, who knows, maybe I might be next. It’s just a feeling I have, but I don’t mind telling you I’m scared.
If the murderer wants to kill me, he will have to find me first.
I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed your ‘emergency money’ in the dresser. I promise I’ll pay it back when I can. I also drew out the baby-sitting money from my bank account. It’s not a lot, but it will get me by until I find a job.
Don’t worry about your car, Dad. I’m the one who took it. I will send a letter, soon, and let you know where to find it. I’ll include the parking lot ticket.
I am very sorry about this. I promise to keep in touch, and I will return as soon as the police rid our town of its homicidal maniac.
Love always,
Linda
She placed the note on her parents’ dresser, then opened the third drawer from the top. The stack of twenty-dollar bills was hidden between two neatly folded sweaters, just where it had always been. She counted. There were ten bills.
She found her father’s Smith and Wesson on his closet shelf. She stuffed it into her overnight bag and closed the zipper.
It took nearly half an hour to walk to the Big Ten grocery store managed by her fathe
r. Along the way, she ran into Ginger Jones. The chubby old lady greeted her like a dear friend. ‘Don’t you look pretty, now? Where would a girl be going, all dressed up to the hilt that way?’
‘I’m meeting Dad at the store. He’s taking me in to Buffalo to visit my Aunt Vivian.’
‘Well, you give Vi my regards, won’t you?’
‘I sure will.’
In the store’s parking lot, she made a quick scan to look for her father. He wasn’t in sight. She climbed into his car, and drove to the bank.
The clerk gave her no trouble. She added $185.63 to her bill fold.
Then she drove out to US 81. An hour and a half later, she took a parking lot ticket from a machine at Syracuse’s Hancock International Airport. She carefully marked the car’s location on the ticket before walking to the terminal.
The moment she stepped inside the terminal, panic hit her.
I don’t know what I’m doing!
She staggered back a step. Still time to get home, tear up the note . . .
No!
She looked at the long counter, the ticket agents.
What’s the big deal? All I’ve gotta do is buy a ticket. People must do it all the time.
How the hell do you do it?
Walk up to the counter. That’s all it takes.
She walked up to a counter. A young man in a TWA blazer smiled at her. ‘May I help you?’ He raised his eyebrows. He looked cheerful and eager.
Linda relaxed a bit. ‘How much is a ticket to Los Angeles?’
‘First class or coach?’
‘Coach, I guess. That’s the cheapest, right?’
‘Right. It’s $149.00 one way.’ He eyed her overnight bag. ‘We have a flight out at 1:15 with a change in Pittsburg. That’ll get you into LAX at 3:43 Pacific time.’
‘That fast?’
He smiled. ‘There’s a three hour time difference.’
Linda nodded, feeling like an idiot.
‘Round trip?’
‘One way.’
‘Fine. Name?’
‘Thelma Jones.’
He started to punch buttons behind the counter. ‘Will you be traveling by yourself, Miss Jones?’
‘Just me.’
‘Smoking or non-smoking?’
‘Non.’
He pressed a few more buttons, then asked, ‘Any baggage to check?’
‘Is it okay if I just carry this?’ Linda asked, lifting her satchel.
‘No problem.’
She opened her billfold. ‘How much was that?’
‘One forty-nine.’
She took out eight twenty-dollar bills.
‘Now, you’ll have to change planes in Pittsburg. Our flight’s on schedule, so you shouldn’t have any trouble making the connection.’
With a nod, she handed over the money.
Finally, she had her ticket, her boarding pass, and she could hardly believe it was all so easy. She felt relieved, almost carefree, as she walked in the direction pointed out by the man.
That ended when she saw the people ahead stopping at a gate-like affair and turning over their bags to a uniformed woman. The woman set the bags on a conveyor belt. They vanished inside a metal machine and reappeared on its other side, where the people picked them up after passing through the gate.
‘Oh shit,’ she muttered.
She turned away. Near the other end of the terminal, she found a restroom. She stood at a sink, washing her hands and brushing the short hair of her wig until she was alone. Then she dumped her pistol into a waste bin.
She passed through security without any trouble.
The taxi crept up the San Diego Freeway in rush-hour traffic. ‘Where are they all going?’ Linda asked, half to herself.
‘Home from work,’ the driver said, smiling back at her. ‘Home from shopping, home from the airport, Disneyland, the beach. You name it.’
‘I’ve never seen so many cars.’
‘Then you’ve never been to LA. I tell you, one of these days there’s gonna be one single car too many coming on, and that’ll be it. Nobody’ll move. I’ve got ten days rations in the trunk for the day it happens.’
‘Really?’
‘Would I kid you?’ He swung abruptly into a right-hand lane, slipping into a space barely long enough for the taxi. The car in front slowed down. Linda braced her feet on the floor as the taxi braked. She waited for an impact from the rear. It didn’t come. Her left leg ached as she let her muscles loosen. She rubbed it through her dress.
The driver seemed unconcerned about the close call. ‘Make sure you take in Grauman’s Chinese,’ he said. ‘They don’t call it that anymore, but it’s still got the stars’ footprints. That’s just a few blocks from where I’m dropping you.’
‘Okay.’
They moved slowly down a ramp leading onto another freeway. This one looked just as crowded as the other.
Linda glanced at the meter. Seven-fifty. She still had more than two hundred dollars, so . . .
‘The Walk of Fame’s there, too. You know, the stars in the sidewalk?’
‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it.’
‘Some good bookstores along there, too. You into books?’
‘A little.’
‘Me, I do screenplays. I’ve picked up some option money, here and there, but I haven’t been produced yet.’
‘Maybe you should write a book.’
‘I’ve tried. I can’t do prose.’
‘You write your screenplays in verse?’
He laughed. He didn’t explain what was funny, but continued to talk about his writing as he left the freeway and drove up a crowded street named La Brea. Linda felt smothered by the traffic. Often, they had to wait through three cycles of a stop light before getting across an intersection. The amount on the meter continued to rise.
‘Hollywood Boulevard,’ he finally announced, making a right-hand turn. ‘Grauman’s, all that, is just up ahead. We’ll be turning off, though.’
A few blocks later, he made a left. Then a right onto La Mar Street. He stopped in front of a shabby apartment house, and turned in his seat. Linda gave him thirty dollars. She told him to keep the change.
‘Good luck with your poetry,’ she said, and left him smiling.
Alone on the sidewalk, she took Tony’s letter from her purse. She checked the return address against the numbers beside the building’s double glass doors. They matched.
Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the doors. She pulled one open. The lobby seemed dark after the glare outside, and felt slightly cool.
Near the foot of the staircase, she found rows of mail boxes. Each was labeled with two strips of red plastic tape. Her eyes moved swiftly to the strip marked 210, and lowered to the name: A. Johnson.
She’d found him!
She climbed the stairs slowly. At the top, she leaned against the wall. Her breath was coming fast, her heart racing, but not from the exertion.
Shutting her eyes, she saw the naked, cadaverous specter leering down at her through the darkness. The severed head tumbled down the stairs. It bumped her. Its vacant eye peered at her through the gap of her upraised legs. She felt the warm spread of urine. He was coming down, lifting the ax. She felt her terror, her certainty that she would be killed, at last the welcome taste of fresh night air when she made her escape. Then the explosion of pain as the car tore into her.
She gasped and her eyes jerked open as if she’d been startled from sleep.
Her legs were dripping. The insides of her shoes felt slippery. The faded green rug was dark between her feet.
Stunned, she looked down the corridor. At least nobody was around.
She peeled off her sopping panties. With Kleenex from her handbag, she wiped herself dry. She left the panties and tissues in a wet heap, and hurried toward room 210.
All his fucking fault! Everything!
Don’t blow it, she warned herself as she raised a fist to strike the door.
She knocked gently.
She waited, hands folded to conceal the blotch on her dress.
The door stayed shut.
She knocked again.
Finally, she gave up. She took the back stairway to the first floor. Stepping out a rear exit, she found herself in an alley. She walked down it, holding the wet part of her dress away from her skin.
In her overnight bag, she carried a change of clothes. She considered ducking between trash bins and ridding herself of the fouled dress.
No. The sun would dry it, soon enough.
She wanted to save the clean clothes for her trip home. Whatever she wore tonight would very likely get messed up with blood.
If she was lucky.
She walked for a long time, sticking mostly to alleys. Finally, she returned to Tony’s apartment. She knocked on his door and waited.
Then she went out the front. She crossed the street. Near the end of the block, she sat down on a curb and watched the front of the building and waited.
24
‘OKAY OKAY,’ Roger said. ‘Ready for the splash shot. It’s been a long day. Let’s get it right and we’ll wrap.’
Jack, crouched on the low roof of the shack facade, gave a nod and pulled the ski mask down over his face. He picked up the ax with both hands.
‘Be careful,’ Dani called.
‘Just get it right,’ Roger said, apparently still miffed about last week’s foul-up with the shotgun.
Jack’s hesitation to blast Ingrid’s head. The thought of it made Dani smile. Thank God for such foul-ups. But her good feelings vanished in an instant when she remembered Ingrid’s disappearance.
Ingrid, her double.
Tony fondling the dummy, handling its breasts, its buttocks and groin, calling it by her name.
He’s just sick enough . . .
‘Action.’
Jack leaped from the roof. He landed on his feet in front of the chair where the mannequin of Bill sat with a beer bottle raised to its lips. He swung the ax sideways. It caught Bill across the left eyebrow. The top of the head flew off with a burst of red gore, tumbled and thudded on the porch floor.
‘Cut!’ Roger called. ‘Beautiful. That’s a print.’
‘Do you want me to go in with you?’ Jack asked.
Dani shook her head. ‘I’m sure it’s all right. He’s probably still home licking his wounds.’
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