“Got a pencil?”
“Just happens that I do.”
CHAPTER 46
Only rich people live on Lido Key . . . not moderately wealthy people, but the filthy rich kind like Dusty Harrison.
The house on the bay, facing Sarasota across the water, was well back from the street. The black wrought-iron gates, designed to look like a piece of sheet music, stood open. If I could read music I bet the gates held the stupid Christmas tune that had paid for all this estate.
In this neighborhood there was sure to be private security. Thick plantings lined the curving drive and concealed the house, but I saw no signs of any security, nothing to stop me entering the grounds. I followed the drive to where it curled around a fountain in front of the house. On either side of the front door, the yews continued the musical theme, cut into the shape of treble clefs.
At the front door I saw the first signs of security—cameras mounted on the house. Still, it wasn’t much.
The fury that had brought me here was fading. I was beginning to think confronting Harrison wasn’t a good idea, telling myself that Holly was dead and nothing could change that. Still, all the things she’d suffered? I wanted some revenge for her pain.
I pushed the doorbell and the first bars of Dusty’s Christmas song trilled. The sound brought back enough outrage to keep me committed.
The old woman who opened the door had pasted her lipstick well outside the natural lines of her lips, and it was even redder than what I wore. Her eyebrows were long gone but they’d been painted in thick black lines about an inch above where nature intended. Her clothes shimmered and still had shoulder pads; back in the eighties she would have been right in style.
She gave me the once-over, considered me from my head to my toes and back again. Her sour look said she was not impressed.
I put on my biggest smile. “May I speak to Mr. Harrison, please?”
“What’s this about?” Her glare would have given a more sensitivetype the jitters. “My son doesn’t like girls like you.”
“I’m afraid I have some sad news for him about a mutual friend.”
“Tell me. I’m his mother.”
“I think it’s better if I tell Mr. Harrison.”
“Dustin doesn’t need to know. I don’t want him upset,” she said, and started to close the door.
A normal person might take a hint when a door is shut in her face. But I had Bernice to educate me and destroy any silly ideas of proper behavior. I slammed into the door with my shoulder, nearly knocking the old sweetheart on her ass. She recovered quickly, raising her hand and snarling, “Get out of my house.”
“Would you rather he talked to me or the police?” For a moment I thought she was going to rake her vivid red talons across my face. The nails stopped reaching for me and a calculating look narrowed her eyes.
“It’s his choice, but one way or another, my questions will get answered. However, the police might just want to take some actions beyond what I’m here for.”
She squinted down her nose at me, judging if I were tough enough to make good on my words. “Wait in there,” she said, pointing to a small den off to her left.
“Thank you.”
Her nostrils flared.
“It really would be better if he talked to me instead of the police.” She tottered away on her toes, her gold lamé outfit flickering inthe sunlight pouring through a glass dome over our heads.
The question was would she call my bluff? Who would come, Dusty or the cops?
I went to wait in the room she had pointed out. It was full of oversized furniture, looking rather like giant leather marshmallows.
The man who came was in his fifties with hair as black as his mother’s. The color might well have come out of the same bottle. But where her face was prune-like, his was a smooth peach without a wrinkle or an expression in sight.
I rose to my feet when he entered the room, keeping the pepper spray hidden in my hand.
He stopped just inside the door and looked me up and down. His nose twitched as though his cat had dragged in something ghastly and he wanted the help to come and take it away. “What do you want?”
“I’m here about Holly.”
“I don’t know to whom you are referring.”
“Then I’ll take my questions to the police.” His large sigh was dramatic. “What questions?”
“You kept Holly in an apartment. I know that because the police told us. Were you the father of her child?” I was trying to throw him off guard. It didn’t work.
He giggled . . . a horrible sound. “I didn’t even know she had a child. I’ve only known her for a few months.” He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, sure that he knew where this was going and that he was free of any nasty paternity suit. “Besides, not that it’s anyone’s business, but I made sure years ago that I would never spawn anything.”
“Thank god for that! And spawn was exactly the word I would have chosen. Was she leaving you?”
Dusty snickered. His amusement was really pissing me off.
“I told her to get out. She was really rather boring. She never stopped going on about when was I going to introduce her to some important people. Blathering on and on about her career. Besides, she wasn’t . . .” He paused and looked at me. “Well, shall I say, she wasn’t very enthusiastic in bed. She was starting to turn me off and I’d had enough of her. I told her she had two weeks to get out.” His lips squeezed shut in disgust. “Stupid little fool went and killed herself.”
“Did you give her drugs?”
“Never. I’ve never needed them.”
“Bully for you, but you were the one who beat her.” His body stiffened. He gave a sniff.
“So, is that how you get your jollies, beating helpless women?” He pointed at the door. “Get out.”
“Not yet. We’re not done. Did Cal Vachess hook you up with her?”
“Cal Vachess?” His confusion couldn’t show on his face but it was there in his voice.
“Angel Escort, that’s where you met her, right?”
“I don’t need to use escort services.” He was indignant at the suggestion.
“Ah,” I said, nodding. “It had to be Ryan. That’s how you met Holly.”
“So? It was between consenting adults and no one’s business.”
I moved a little closer to him, wanting to see the fear in his eyes when I gave him the news. “So, here’s a hot news flash . . . Holly was HIV-positive. With any luck you’ll have it too.”
Not all the Botox in the world could keep the fear off his face.
He pulled back his hand to slap me, but when a girl grows up in a trailer park she isn’t an easy target. I dodged his hand and did exactly what Tully had taught me to do when I was about five.
Dusty hit the floor, groaning and clutching his crotch as he rolled onto his side.
I leaned over him. “Now mind your manners or I’ll really hurt you. I’m betting you like to dish it out but you can’t take it, is that right, Dusty?”
He didn’t answer. I nudged his back with my toe. “Talk to me here, Dusty.”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Don’t hurt me.”
“You were the one who beat Holly, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” Dusty’s face was a funny color.
I had my pepper spray ready. “Get to your knees very slowly.” He moaned but he got to all fours. I grabbed his hair to pull uphis head. The hair came off in my hand.
“Oh shit.” I dropped the thing on the floor. “Shit,” I said again and wiped my hand on my skirt. “That’s just gross.”
Behind me the door opened and Dusty’s mommy came in. “Dustin?” She tottered over and picked up the hair. Glaring atme, she said, “What have you done?”
Mrs. Harrison d
idn’t wait for my answer. She was trying to put the toupee back on Dusty’s head while he pushed her away. “Get out of here. Go away, Ma.”
She started to do what she was told, turned back to offer him his hair, but finally clasped it to her chest and said, “I don’t like that tone of voice, Dustin.”
“Get out of here and mind your own business,” Dusty screamed. As she left the room, Dusty pulled himself into a crouch andcrab-walked to a velvet wingback, collapsing into it. His face was wet with tears. I can’t say they made me feel bad.
“You beat Holly for fun.” He watched me, his eyes locked on me. “Tell me.”
When he answered, the tone of his voice had changed, gone from aggressive to whining. “She liked it rough.”
“Horseshit. You liked it rough.” He watched me warily, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Did Ryan share your pastimes?”
“We partied together, if that’s what you mean, but he lied to me, told me Holly was clean and safe.”
“Don’t you hate it when people lie to you?” What would Aunt Kay want from him? “Holly needs to be buried and there’s no money for a funeral. I want you to make out a check for ten thousand dollars.”
He started to argue.
“I don’t want Holly’s name dragged through the mud, so your dirty little secret won’t show up all over the Internet.” I lifted the can of pepper spray and pointed it at him. “Do this one decent thing; it’s best for everyone.”
He held his hands up in appeasement. “All right, all right.” Wincing and moaning, he got to his feet. Sweat glistened on hisface and his naked head. He walked slowly to the desk, leaning on it when he got there. Then he sat down gingerly and pulled himself forward. He hesitated. His hand slid towards the phone.
“Go ahead,” I told him. “I’d like you to have me charged. I’d be happy to tell the cops and the reporters all about it. Tell them how Old Dusty, South Florida’s pride and joy, likes beating up helpless women. You can sure as hell bet that I’ll never have to hear your stupid Christmas song playing in any mall again. That would be a bonus.”
He reached for a drawer instead of the phone and pulled out a long, red-leather checkbook.
“Make it out to Marnie Mitchell. And if you have second thoughts about this check after I’ve gone, think again.” I gave him a big smile. “I’ve been on my best behavior today, didn’t even bring any of my friends with me.”
Dusty wrote and then held out the check.
I read what he’d written before tucking it into my bag. Then I pulled out Chloe McCabe’s picture. “Do you know her?”
He squinted at the picture. He looked up at me, considering my face before he said, “I don’t want any problems with Ryan Vachess.”
“Don’t worry about Ryan. It’s me you’ve got a problem with.”
“She was Ryan’s and then she disappeared. I asked about her, thought I might like a turn, but he said she’d . . .” He stopped. His mouth twitched. “I don’t want any trouble with Ryan.”
“Better you worry about me.”
“He said she was working on the road and then he laughed.”
“What does that mean, working on the road?”
“Ryan has connections. Some guys have motor homes and their girls work out of them up and down the state, in truck stops and rest stops. They keep the girls high and keep them moving.”
“Do you know where Chloe is now?” He shook his head. “That’s all I know about her.”
I was barely out of the gate when I heard the sirens. Had to be his mother; for sure Dusty didn’t want to bring the police into it and risk me telling them Holly’s story.
CHAPTER 47
I figured by this time tomorrow Dusty would have left for a long vacation, so I drove to the deli to tell Rob what Dusty had said about Chloe. If he wanted to talk to Dusty or send the police to talk to him he’d have to hurry.
It was a hard, ugly thing to tell him, but Rob’s reaction was pure excitement. “At least we know she’s alive. Eighteen months without a word, I’d given up.”
I dodged people coming into the deli without paying attention to my surroundings. It was a mistake. I should have had my head up and been looking out for a place to hide. Better still, I should have run back inside and started hollering “Help.”
I felt his hand biting into my forearm, smelled the overpowering aftershave, before I registered Ryan Vachess’s presence.
I didn’t have time to think or react before he shoved me down into his car parked at the curb and then followed me inside it, slamming the door shut behind him.
I fell across the console with Ryan on top of me, squeezing my arm so hard it brought tears to my eyes. The fingers of his left hand dug into my hair and he jerked my head up to his face.
“Why are you following me?”
“. . . wasn’t following you.”
He twisted his fingers in my arm. “Yes you were.”
“. . . coming out of the deli.”
“Yeah?” He shook my head. “Why that deli?”
His fingers locked into my jaw and cranked my head around. I gurgled an answer. He let go of my face and hissed, “You’re in it with him.”
Panicked, I said, “What the hell are you talking about?” I wanted to convince Ryan that my being there had nothing to do with him. “It’s the only deli on St. Armand’s. What deli should I have been coming out of?”
His face was up against mine. His breath was disgusting. He moved slightly, settling onto the passenger seat but not releasing me. “What am I going to do with you now?”
I tried to scoot to the other side of the car and out the door. I didn’t get far.
The nails of his right hand bit into the muscle of my upper arm. With his left hand he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me back. “You’re not leaving until I say, bitch.”
“You’re hurting me.” He twisted my face around to his. My fingers frantically searched for the zipper of my purse, desperate to get at the pepper spray. The animal cunning of a hyena flashed in his eyes. “What have you got in there?” He grabbed my bag and dropped it on the floor. “This is about those girls, about Chloe and Holly, isn’t it?”
“Forget about Holly.” My voice trembled with fear. “I have.” The bright and shiny pinpoints of his eyes were inches from myown. He said, “She just wouldn’t give it up. Going on about it being my fault and how I had to look after her now, filling up my cell with messages and then slipping that note under my door.” He slammed my head against the steering wheel. “She threatened me. No one threatens me.”
“Please,” I begged.
A smile, twisted and evil, curled his lips. “Stupid bitch would swallow anything she was handed. Just tell her the pills would stop the disease and make her feel better and she lapped them right up.”
Suddenly the anger was gone and he was happy, a kid with a new trick. “No one can ever prove a thing. She just took them down like a good little girl.”
He put his cheek right up against mine and whispered, “Good little girls are always the best, much more fun than the foul pieces of puke like you.”
He pushed me out at arm’s length and slammed me against the window. “Now what am I going to do with you?”
He didn’t get a chance to make plans. The door opened and he was dragged backwards onto the sidewalk.
Suddenly free, my one thought was to get away. I grabbed my bag, digging in it for the spray, and stepped out into traffic. A horn blasted.
I shot my hand out as if I could stop the vehicle from running me down and wobbled around to the front of Ryan’s car to the curb.
A woman started screaming.
On the sidewalk Ryan was curled up in a small ball to protect himself from Rob McCabe, who was cursing and kicking Ryan, apparently intent on killing him.
Rob reached out a shaking hand to me. “Are you all right?” I couldn’t answer.
“Come on.” Rob took my hand and led me like a child back through the deli to the little room behind the counter. “Sit.” He shoved me down onto the chair and left me there, returning within seconds with a mug of steaming coffee. “Drink this. I loaded it up with sugar. It’ll help.”
I wrapped my hands around the mug. Suddenly it didn’t matter that it was ninety out. I needed the warmth and the comfort.
“We have to call the cops,” Rob said.
“I don’t know.” I fingered the bump growing on my head. “Will they put him in jail?”
“Until his lawyer gets there.”
“Then forget it. If they only put him away for a few hours it will be worse when he gets out.”
Rob pulled up a small stool and sat facing me with our knees almost touching and studied me as if he expected me to faint. I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t happen.
I set the mug down. “It was the surprise. I didn’t see him and then he had me in the car. And . . . oh my god, I think, I think . . .” But I couldn’t say it, not to this man who was already carrying enough pain, couldn’t tell him Holly hadn’t committed suicide.
I asked, “How did you know?”
“I saw that stupid car. I came out to . . . well . . . I saw the two of you inside.”
“Thank god. I am not sure how it would have turned out if you hadn’t showed up. I might have been one more woman who disappeared from Ryan Vachess’s life.”
Rob got to his feet and pounded his fist on the wall. “Sometimes I think I’d be doing the world a favor if I just got a gun and shot him.”
“Don’t do it until you find Chloe.”
I stopped rubbing the lump on my head and looked at Rob hard. For one second I was tempted to manipulate Rob into destroying Ryan. It wouldn’t take much and if Ryan had it in for me before today, he was going to hate me even more now that he’d confessed to murder.
5 Highball Exit Page 19