Hotter than Helen (The Bobby's Diner Series)

by Wingate, Susan

  Roberta didn’t know why, but she reacted rather than planning out her next few steps.

  She backed out slowly and followed him, keeping her distance when he pulled off into the street. She turned the same way he turned, to the right. He stopped at the first red as it changed to green, then continued through. Roberta, keeping about two or three car lengths between them, slowed. He drove about a mile, through several lights that changed as he got to each intersection, causing him to slow down but not stop. He finally turned left and pulled into the hotel where they had found Helen’s body.

  Tanner drove around the back near a bank of a high oleander hedge where a dry riverbed ran tight alongside the hedge. The riverbed acted as a diversion drain way for the occasional flashflood.

  Upon turning, she had trouble locating his car. It was like it disappeared. She slowed down, examining each parked car as she passed by, trying to see within their dark interiors. The time since he turned and was out of her vision and when she turned down this dark lot had only been a matter of seconds. He couldn’t have gotten out of his car and into the hotel that fast. She assumed was still sitting in his car, hiding.

  The thought sent a cold chill up her neck that covered her scalp.

  She hated when she began manifesting frightening scenarios. So she talked herself down. She supposed from the many entryways that lined the back of the hotel, that someone in a big hurry could have made it out of their car and into the hotel without her noticing, especially if they parked right next to a door. He might’ve also driven around the other side of the parking lot opposite of where he turned in, but why? Still, he could have.

  Roberta felt a little embarrassed when she realized she wasn’t really even sure if the person she saw at the market was Tanner at all.

  She sped up, realizing she had let her imagination lead her there. She pulled from behind the hotel and headed out, deciding she would go back to the store.

  30

  Roberta sat for a couple of minutes in her driveway. Her house, like most others on the street, didn’t have a garage. They had acreage instead. Well, a half-acre, but it provided privacy, quiet and a sense of space in their sparsely housed neighborhood community.

  She didn’t mind not having a garage. They had plenty of storage without a garage after Rick built another storage shed in the back.

  Breathing in, she realized that this night, for the first time in a long time, she could spend alone—enjoying a glass of wine and taking a long, hot soak in the tub. As she stood outside her car, she looked up into the sky. The storm clouds had been building and then receding for day, but the sky opened up like a kaleidoscope over her house making the stars appear bright and almost fake. Looking northeast toward Laughlin where Rick had gone, city lights blossomed under a cloud cover, killing the stars and leaving a huge mushroom hundreds of miles off in the distance that somehow reflected off a dark oversized truck parked on her street.

  She turned again to the south, toward Phoenix. The light swelled even brighter and crossed a wider expanse down there. Phoenix also somehow reflected off the cars that lined her street, catching the shine of the city lights on them like a mirror one hundred miles off.

  Sunnydale had been her home for almost forty years and she was thankful that she didn’t live in a big city any longer. Her street still felt like the country with the only lights around coming from the neighboring houses. In fact, they still had an ordinance forbidding street lights at each corner. Roberta enjoyed having the night feel like nighttime. Plus, the quiet of the desert had a peace that no city could equal.

  Crickets sang, roadrunners cracked out calls to their mates, the wind rustled scattering tumbleweeds and windchimes added the harpsichord for contrast. But there was also a desert lore that if you held your breath and listened hard, you could hear the ancient natives whisper your name in the wind blowing over, rustling off the needles of saguaros. Roberta pulled in a deep breath of air and as she held her breath, she waited, like she had since she was a kid after first hearing the story. When she let out her breath again, she said to herself, “Maybe next time, when they’re ready for me to hear.” The strap of the grocery bag started to cut into her hand, so she switched sides making her switch her keys into her right hand to open the door. A breeze rustled up and blew a thin pelting of sand into her face and into the window. A bath would be a welcome respite.

  Once she unlocked the door, she flipped on the light, she stepped into the house, then closed the door and locked it. She could see from where she stood, where she kicked off her pumps by the door, a note from Rick folded like a tent set on the counter.

  She placed the bag and her keys next to the note, pulled her jacket off and threw it over one of the counter’s bar stools. Next, Roberta opened a kitchen drawer, the one with the wine opener. A wind scudded outside, causing something to bang against the house. She looked up momentarily trying to see if she could see out back where the noise came from but the darkness prevented her. She pulled the wine out of the bag and grabbed his note, continuing to read it.

  He loved her. He missed her already. He couldn’t wait to get home to her. He wanted to make love to her.

  He drew a huge heart around the entire message and then stabbed an arrow into where it disappeared until it came out the back side again. He’d checked off three X’s and drawn three O’s and signed it, “Love you forever, Me.”

  She smiled and said in a whisper, while pouring her wine, “I love you too, honey.” It didn’t seem possible today that five years ago they nearly called it quits. He was the love of her life, no matter how trite or corny that sounded. It was true. A thought crossed her mind that she could die today and be happy.

  The wind was causing havoc outside on the back patio when the lid of the trashcan flew off. She took a sip of her cabernet and set the glass down.

  She walked to the sliding glass door toward the back and pulled open her vertical blinds. Sure enough, the trash can had been knocked over by the wind. She looked at her watch. It was ten-thirty. She had to pee and, instead of fixing the can, she walked into the guest bathroom, the one with a jacuzzi tub and sat on the toilet. While there, she reached over and cranked open the hot water, letting it run and build up heat. As the water ran, she thought she heard the garbage can rumbling about again. Desert wind could be violent and often brought in a host of treacheries with it, like storm clouds and gully-washers. A friend of hers in Phoenix once had their roof sheer off because of the strength of the desert winds.

  Flushing the toilet, she rose and pulled off her pants and panties, letting them drop to the floor. She yanked her blouse over her head and let it drop to the floor too. She grabbed Rick’s robe off the hook because she liked his better. It gave her more room to dry. She headed back into the kitchen, through the den, to get her salts.

  She was done in the kitchen for the evening. The garbage can could wait until morning.

  She walked over toward the door to turn off the lamp. When the room went dark, a shaft of light streamed in from the bathroom, guiding her vision in its direction. Looking and walking in that direction, something else was there, something she couldn’t have described then but something she sensed something evil. Her skin tingled and the sensation made her want to close the blinds. She knew she got like this whenever Rick wasn’t home at night with her. She shook her head and the dark began to naturalize around her.

  When she approached the pully to close the blinds, the backyard became blocked by something darker just outside of the windowed door.

  Squinting to make her eyes adjust, she saw them.

  Recognizing both bodies, she gasped.

  There they were—Hawthorne and Martin.

  Standing there, just outside her sliding glass door.

  And they had guns.

  Seeing them made her scream and jump back, tripping over a chair. But she didn’t fall down.

  They pounded on the glass. She could see their lips moving and heard their muffling words to let them inside.


  She shook her head no and darted down the hall.

  The first crash of glass came as she made her way out of the living room. The sliding door opened. Both men tumbled in. Their feet pounded, running after her. She made it into her bedroom, flipped the lock and ran over to the bed, scrambling to get to the phone. Another clatter, the door handle popping up and down with each blast. One of them bashed his shoe against the door.

  It flung open wildly, slamming against the wall, then bounced back halfway.

  The two men walked over to her. Hawthorne grabbed the phone and listened. She was certain he could only hear a dial tone. She hadn’t had time to call even 911. A glib smile crossed over his teeth. He nodded at Tanner to check the other areas of the room. He looked in the closet and the master bath.

  “Nothing.”

  “Better check the rest of the house.”

  “What the hell do you want?” Roberta tried to mask the panic in her voice.

  Hawthorne didn’t waste any time and backhanded her across the mouth, sending a glob of blood onto the lampshade on the nightstand. It was still dark but she could see his eyes.

  “Don’t scream. Don’t speak.”

  “You killed Helen,” she croaked out, halfway crying.

  He backhanded her again. “Shut up, you stupid bitch.”

  “She’s ready, Big. Can I do her here?”

  Roberta’s eyes goggled in fear, understanding do her to mean to rape her.

  “You’ll have time for that later.” Then he smiled again and grabbed Roberta’s face with one hand holding her so close to his that she felt the heat of his breath on her cheek. “See, I’m your best friend right now. Believe me, what I’ll do to you will seem like nothing compared to that sick freak.” He tossed a look over at Tanner who was holding his crotch. “Go get a hand towel from the bathroom.”

  “Come on Big, let me. She doesn’t have any clothes on under that. I saw her boobs. It’d be so easy.”

  Roberta hadn’t even noticed her robe had opened around her chest. The struggle had usurped any sense of decorum. She clutched the lapels of her robe and retightened its belt.

  “What did I say? Go get a towel. Now!”

  Tanner glared at her, then waggled his tongue at her like a snake making sucking noises as he walked out of the room.

  “See what I mean? I’m your only friend right now, right here. If you don’t listen to me, I’ll let him at you. All I have to do is step out of the room. Got it?”

  She nodded her head quickly. “Good.”

  When Tanner returned, Biggs took the hand towel turning Roberta away from him. He twisted it and dropped it around her neck, making her gasp. “Grab it and stick it in your mouth.” When she hesitated, he barked at her, “Do it!” She lifted the twisted towel and placed it in between her teeth. He tied it off around her head.

  “Rope,” he ordered Tanner, who reached into his pocket. Roberta watched him toss over a couple of feet of thick yellow twine. A book of matches fell out at the same time, dropping to the floor. “Give me your hands.” She shook her head, no and sniveled. His hand felt like lead when he pushed her forward on the bed, making her fall on her face, pinning her there.

  He lifted her robe up, revealing her bare ass and directed Tanner, “Have at her.”

  Roberta thrashed and screamed and heard Tanner unclasp his belt and heard his fly unzip. She writhed with her face down in the mattress as Biggs held her down with one hand, leaning all his weight on her. Her eyes went wild as she mumbled out uh-uh, as she screamed like a dog caught in a bear trap, until tears soaked the bedspread.

  Tanner came up fast and laid down beside her. He began petting her back and then moved his sick hand down onto her rump. Na! Na! She screamed but it felt useless. She could smell his toxic breath, like garlic and bitter milk. His hand felt clammy and shook as he moved it closer to her crotch.

  Biggs stopped him at that point. He placed one big hand on his arm and pulled him away.

  “Come on, Biggs. Let me. Don’t keep teasin’ me. You know how nasty I get when you tease me.”

  “Yeah, but you know how good it feels when you have to wait.”

  Tanner’s jaw hung loose and he laughed out a short breath that permeated the air around Roberta’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, it does feel better when I have to wait, Big. Okay.” He rolled away from her and grabbed at the front of his pants again like a boy needing to pee. I gotta get to the bathroom.

  “Now. Are you going to be a good girl and let me tie your hands?”

  Roberta nodded once and began to sob low and deep inside her throat. Then he turned again to Tanner. “Go get the duffle bag.”

  Laying face forward on the bed, she didn’t see when he wound up for the blow to her head.

  31

  Pressing send, Georgette shot an email to Roberta, describing the meeting with the police and how she thought Roberta might’ve slipped up when she discussed the possible rape, that Willy was still interested, which she joked about and explained details of how he got “aroused,” typing LOL after.

  Georgette assumed Roberta would be happy to hear that Willy was still interested in her. Hell, Georgette was happy he was still interested. Especially in light of the whole fiasco with Hawthorne. But she wasn’t going to type all of that into the message. She knew Roberta would email back with questions.

  When she pressed “send,” leaned back in her chair and looked out the window.

  Spring had fluxed toward summer except, of course, in the evenings, when the thermometer dropped thirty degrees lower than the day’s temperature. Today was warmer than yesterday. The desert was on its usual uphill climb toward the inevitable scorching temperatures of summer. She had propped open both sets of French doors and cranked most of the windows open wide. The breeze crossing within the room felt fresh and clean. She loved spring and hated thinking how stifling the weather would become in just a couple of weeks even with air conditioning, with its fake cold air.

  Contemplating the oncoming change in seasons, she lifted her glass of ice tea and noticed a ring puddling where it sat.

  She’d only been interrupted once during her time home. Her cell hadn’t even rung. Roberta would make a great partner. For the first time in the last few days, she felt content. Not quite happy, but content.

  Gangster sat next to her computer where she typed and seemed fully recovered from his harrowing experience locked inside the tiny shed in the garage. Still, she gave him double the normal attention and kissed his forehead.

  When her cell buzzed across the desk, it startled her. “Who’s that, Gangster?” She patted his head and flipped open the phone.

  It was Willy.

  “Hi Willy. Checkin’ to see if I’m still in Sunnydale?... No. Tonight is not a good night... Can we just slow up a bit on that, Willy? I mean your timing is, man-o-man, I hate to say this, Willy, but your timing sucks.” She couldn’t believe how mean her words sounded. After she apologizing, he hung up rather fast.

  She tried to rationalize her rudeness—the pressure of Helen, at the very least. The issue with Hawthorne.

  With everything.

  Still, she felt bad and began to dial back but then stopped. He needed to know how bad his behavior looked to her. She had been honest. Rude but honest and she refused to apologize for that. She thought all of that when the phone buzzed again. She looked at the displayed number this time. It was Willy again.

  “Yes, Willy.” Her voice was sharp and irritated. This time Willy sounded more official. He had information about Hawthorne. They believed he had left Sunnydale under an assumed name or maybe that Hawthorne Biggs was an assumed name. His house was empty. None of his things could be found.

  A cold chill snaked down her back, causing her to shiver. “What about his truck?”

  “Nope. Not a car, a Dodge Ram charger… black… four-door.”

  “I’ve never seen him in a beige Impala.”

  The call ended on a strange note. Willy didn’t hide his hurt feel
ings. He talked in terse answers and sounded all-business this time. Georgette couldn’t help thinking this was their first lover’s quarrel.

  But something felt more foreboding. Willy had said they could only find one car registered to Hawthorne Biggs and it wasn’t the black truck he had been driving around.

  After hanging up, she contemplated some of the points he made during their conversation. Her gut tightened when she thought about Hawthorne. She didn’t really care about what truck he drove or what car he owned. Anger flared up suddenly, taking her by complete surprise. “Dammit! The bastard lied about everything.” Georgette wondered when those internal bruises would fade.

  32

  The diner always drew her home to it. A message blinked on the answering machine. She would get to it after looking over the books.

  Georgette smiled as she reviewed business for the evening before, a bang-up dinner crowd. She was glad that she and Roberta were now officially partners. Bobby’s legacy would continue if anything happened to Georgette.

  She stopped and made a silent prayer to her late husband, expressing how they had done well together and how much she loved his daughter then she got back down to work.

  The evening had been busy and she spent a moment in guilt for not being there but decided to let it go. Roberta obviously handled the night well.

  She looked at the bundle of credit card receipts, noticing many of the regulars who patronized the restaurant. Friday had been busy. Today would be, too. She knew she’d be tired after work tonight and couldn’t wait for Sunday. They closed doors on Sundays and spent her time around the house doing whatever she wanted. Still, the diner beckoned and she knew she always felt happy to get back to it again on Monday.

  But as she flipped through the credit card receipts, one of them stopped her. Roberta had written across it with a Sharpie, “Martin Tanner was in!” She looked at the message light blinking and looked at the receipt again. Pushing her desk chair back, she rolled over to the phone to listen.

  First, Roberta had decided to take the day off. She’d see her tomorrow. Georgette noticed an unusual abruptness in her message.