“No, Nic, you don’t see. The antique Harley community is a close-knit group where everyone knows everyone else. They treat me as one of them, and I’d like to keep it that way.” He went on to explain, “There was an awkward incident some years ago involving Sara, that caused a lot of bad feelings, and I lost several good contacts. Now I prefer to keep my private life separate that way there are no complications–no misunderstandings.” He wasn’t going to go into details. It was something he preferred not to talk about.
Nicola waited for an explanation, but when none was forthcoming she traced her finger around a circle of condensation left by her water glass, and tried not to show how she really felt.
She wiped a napkin over the damp patch, scrunched it up into a ball, and tossed it to the end of the table. “I understand,” she said avoiding eye contact. “We’ve been having such a great time I completely forgot why you are here.”
Danny could see she was hurt, but there was nothing he could do about it. “I’m sorry, Nic but that’s just the way it has to be.”
When the waiter arrived with their food Danny ordered a beer, Nicola a glass of white wine then they ate in silence pretending to be engrossed in the meal.
When Danny finished eating, he pushed his plate to one side, ordered another beer, and watched Nicola eat. “Nic, you need to understand the bikes are just business.”
Nicola laid her fork on the side of the plate and placed her hand on top of his. It felt cool from the chill of the glass he’d been holding. Danny wound his fingers around hers and squeezed.
“I’m sorry Danny. I’m being unfair. Of course you need to do this on your own. I do understand, really I do.” She hoped she hadn’t caused a rift between them because of her stupid, childish behavior.
* * *
The blade sliced cleanly from ear to ear all the way through to her spine. She dropped to her knees, her face frozen in a look of surprise. Then, as if in slow-motion, she slumped forward like a rag doll. As she hit the ground her head fell back exposing the bloody gaping hole in her throat.
Taking care not to get blood on his clothes and sneakers, he proceeded to smash her face in with a piece of wood he’d picked up.
“That’ll take the fucking smile off your face, bitch!”
*****
“What was that?”
Rosie, who’d been dozing, on and off, was suddenly awake.
“What was what?” I said with a shrug–nonplussed.
She glared at me accusingly. “You’ve killed her, haven’t you?”
It doesn’t do to give the plot away too early in a story, so I said, “If you kill one person, it’s only a small leap of faith to killing another.”
“But I don’t understand why you had to kill her at all. I liked Nicola,” she whined like a petulant teenager.
“Because that’s what us writers do.”
“Okay. Let’s see how you get yourself out of this mess.”
Nicola roused from her slumber…
Rosie sat bolt upright. “Stop!” she demanded. “You just stop right there, sister!”
“What is it, Hon?”
“What’s going on? Is Danny turning into a serial killer?”
“I didn’t say anything about Danny killing anyone.”
“If it’s not Danny who’s been killing these women−then who is it?”
“Do you want to hear what happens… or not?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Everyone has choices, kiddo. It’s up to the individual to decide.”
She harrumphed loudly and waved her hand in a theatrical gesture. “Will you just get on with it? I haven’t got all day.”
I was about to say, ‘Could have fooled me,’ but instead said, “Now we come to the good bit.”
She settled back against the pillow… and let out a sigh. “Ah… I like to hear those bits.”
“That’s why I write them. I like to give you something to dream about when you close your eyes at night.”
…Danny knelt on the floor beside the bed and pulled back the sheet.
Groggy from sleep, Nicola felt his fingers trailing a sensual path down her body. She moaned as she felt all her senses come alive.
His lips lightly touched her ear, his breath warm on her face. “Are you awake,” he whispered.
“Mmm...”
His kisses were as soft and gentle as a butterfly on a flower. His lips caressed her eyelids, her cheeks and her nose. When he reached her mouth he devoured her. Then, with soft, tender kisses he worked his way down her throat to her breast. He took one erect nipple after the other into his mouth and sucked gently. His tongue traced a wet path around the areolas – his teeth gently nibbled.
Nicola let out a long slow breath and shuddered as his hand moved slowly down her belly…, his fingers barely touching her skin. Her thighs parted and she felt his fingers slip inside. Nicola moaned, her body rising as she pushed against his hand. The feel of his fingers inside her sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.
Danny raised himself up and straddled her body then he leaned down and kissed her. And, when he entered her every muscle in his body was as taunt as a spring.
Nicola wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him in. He could feel the feathery touch of her breath on his face, her fingers digging into his back as he breathed in the smell of perfume on her skin, the tangy fragrance of her shampoo. When he looked into her eyes he could see a kind of mystery and a beauty in them–and he thought he could see her soul.
And then he felt something burst inside him, and what sounded like the roar of a waterfall in his ears, and he rushed towards that moment where he could finally let go of all the pain, and sadness, and loneliness that had built up inside him.
FOURTEEN
“I wish you would stop reading my mind and get a mind of your own,” my sister protested as we walked down the hospital corridor and noticed our reflections in the plate-glass window at the end of the hallway.
As is often the case, we were wearing almost identical outfits–today, blue jeans and green T-shirts. The only difference aside from the slight variation in color was Rosie’s T-shirt had a round neck while mine had a V.
“Me? I’m up and in the shower while you’re still dunking your Vegemite-toast in your tea.”
“Just because I’m still in my PJ’s doesn’t mean I’m not planning my wardrobe for the day.”
“Planning! What planning? You go to the closet and grab the first thing you put your hand on. Where’s the planning in that?”
As I pushed open the door and followed her inside, I noticed her face light up in a wide, open smile.
“Hi everyone, beautiful day isn’t it?” she said.
People looked up, acknowledged our presence, and greeted us warmly.
As we headed for our usual seats at the back of the room, Mr. Takamura looked up from the newspaper he was reading, dropped it to the floor and climbed onto the chair, with an agility that surprised me–for a man his age. From his perch he smiled down at my sister and me.
“J.J,” he said nodding, bending slightly at the waist. “Channel–Five, C.B.S. Yes?”
Sometimes good things come from the most unexpected places.
When I said, “You’re a gem, Mr. T. Your bloods worth bottling,” he looked at me strangely, even though I’d spoken slowly and clearly. Maybe I need to brush up on my language skills.
As we strolled down the room, chairs were shuffled to accommodate our arrival. I noticed the newcomers from yesterday were already settled into the routine; big smiles on their faces, heads nodding up and down. As I nodded a greeting, I noticed the man who usually sat next to Linda had moved to the other side of the room. Like a new puppy–it’s all in the training.
Rosie handed me her bag. “Now, don’t you girls go talking about me while I’m gone,” she said as she grabbed a gown from the table and headed to the change room.
“Hon, we would only have good things to say about you, wouldn’t
we, Linda?” I called after her… and gave Linda a nudge.
Linda tilted her body leeward, away from me, and started to chow down on a loose piece of skin on the side of her thumb.
Thinking she must have been hungry, I said, “There’s a cafeteria on the next floor, Linda.” But she chose to ignore me. It was only when I added, “their specialty is braised pig’s trotters and lamb’s tongue in aspic,” that I saw her draw blood.
. . .
Rosie dropped her clothes on my lap and raised her arms in the air, extended her fingers gracefully, like a ballerina in full flight, and did a dainty pirouette twirl.
I clapped my hands.
“Bravo! Although you might want to be careful about raising your arms too high. Those gowns weren’t made for tall people.” But then I remembered our Japanese friend, and amended my warning, “or short ones,”
“Oh, right-o,” she said as she dipped in a curtsy then sat on the chair next to Linda.
Without any preamble, she said, “Gee, Linda, I don’t know how to tell you this, but she’s committed another cold blooded murder.”
“M... m… murder! Wha… what do you mean?”
Rosie leaned towards over and lowered her voice. “Just between you and me, Linda, I think she’s turning into a serial killer.”
Linda was stunned, her eyes fever bright. She was trapped in a conflict of flight–or fight. “O… oh m… m… my… oh my...,” she spluttered. She was anchored to the chair by indecision as the door to the treatment room opened, and a hushed silence fell over the room.
The nurse scanned the room and found my sister. “Mrs. Albertson we’re ready for you now.”
I waved my hand in the air to get her attention, and called out loudly, “Pardon me. I don’t wish to sound like I’m questioning your qualification–I’m sure you’ve attended the very best medical schools.” Everyone looked up as my words hung like a question mark over the room. “And,” I continued, “I wouldn’t dream of telling you how to read names on a list, even though some are real tongue twisters, but I thought I should alert you to the fact that you seem to have skipped over… or somehow… left a name off your list.”
The woman fidgeted with the stethoscope draped round her neck and gave me a confused look. “Forgotten someone?” The silence was loaded leaving no room for contradiction. Everyone waited… not daring to breathe. They knew something really important was going on.
“Yes ma’am. You seem to have forgotten, Mr. Takamura. He always has his treatment before my sister.” You would think they would know the order in which their patients were treated because they have to adjust the specifications on the equipment… and I don’t want my sister going in to have dangly bits zapped when she doesn’t have any dangly bits–nor is she likely to acquire some any time soon.
The nurse smiled. “Oh,” she said. “Mr. Takamura came in early today. He’s finished his treatment. I think he must be waiting for someone.”
An audible sigh breathed over the room and everyone resumed what they’d been doing, safe in the knowledge that they had placed their lives in the hands of people who actually do know how to read names on a list.
I looked at our friend sitting quietly beneath the television screen…, his face said it all. Mr. Takamura was waiting for our mentor; the great leveler of society; our very own modern-day King Solomon, Judge Judith Scheindlin, to dole out truth and justice, the American way– i.e. On Prime Time television.
The nurse looked at my sister and smiled. “Are you ready, Mrs. Albertson?”
I gave Rosie a sisterly nudge. “Off you go then, my little chicken-pot-pie.”
“You seem awfully anxious to get rid of me.”
“Linda and I have things to discuss.”
“Like what?”
When I said, “The disposal of bodies,” I heard someone gasp. I looked down the row of people and noticed a gray-haired woman sitting on the other side of Linda, hiding behind the large pages of a magazine, a habit she had obviously acquired from her neighbor. When I cleared my throat, loudly, the woman realized her mistake–the magazine was upside down. Another bad habit she had picked up. The woman hastily righted it and eyed me over the top of the pages. I decided to allow her this one small transgression… and said nothing.
*****
They stepped out of the hotel air-conditioning into a warm summer’s breeze that came off the river, bringing with it the sound of laughter and music. Danny took Nicola by the hand and they wandered down to Penn’s Landing where a Latin Festival was in full swing.
A band was playing Latino music, people were dancing, and vendors were selling hot, spicy food. The place was alive with sounds, smells and languages of different cultures. The atmosphere was noisy and infectious.
They shared a low concrete barricade with a family of four and ate food that flooded their senses with tastes and smells they had never experienced before, their feet tapping in time with the rhythm of a salsa.
Danny scraped the last morsel of food from the plate before setting it down on the concrete barrier. He looked at Nicola taking dainty bites and said, “Have you ever danced to this kind of music?”
Nicola swallowed and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “No, I haven’t. Have you?”
“No. We don’t have a very big Latino population in Australia. Most immigrants to Australia come from Europe and Asia. Although in the last fifteen years we’ve been getting refugees from Africa and the Middle East. Here the immigrants are predominantly from South America and the Philippines. Our two countries have an entirely different racial mix.”
Nicola closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warmth of the sun as a soft breeze blew up from the river and ruffled through her hair.
On the walkway that connected Penn’s Landing to the old part of town, a man wearing a black baseball cap and wrap-around-sunglasses was talking to a young woman who stood with her back to the river. The sudden breeze off the water sent her hair dancing about her shoulders, catching the sun in a shimmering haze. The man reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear in a familiar gesture. He said something that caused the woman to laugh as he stepped back and brought a camera up to his eye. The shutter clicked.
* * *
They crossed the bridge and stopped at the Irish Memorial; a monument to people who died during the potato famine in Ireland, and to those who took the treacherous voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to start a new life in America, then turned north on Chestnut Street and headed uptown.
They joined a guided tour through Independence Hall; inspected the Liberty Bell Pavilion then headed up Broad Street to admire the thirty-seven-foot bronze statue of William Penn on top of City Hall where twenty-two-feet thick brick walls had been constructed to carry the great weight.
At around four, they boarded the street trolley and rode it to Fairmount Park, above the Schuylkill River.
They wound their way through the park till they found a vacant bench beneath the spreading limbs of an ancient plane tree. The dappled sunlight glittered through leaves and created moving patterns on their bodies as they listened to the twitters of birds and the sound of the river. The cry of a small child drew their attention as a red balloon caught by a sudden gust of wind slipped it free of tiny fingers and floated up through the treetops.
On a bench nearby, a large man with dark-hair pulled back in a ponytail, and tattoos that ringed his massive biceps with twisted strands of barbed wire, pared the detritus from beneath his fingernails with a penknife. While he worked at his task the sun glinted off the blade and caught Nicola’s eye. As her gaze washed over him the man looked up with dark eyes filled with malevolence. From deep in the back of his throat he hawked up a thick globule of yellow phlegm and spat in the grass. Nicola shuddered and turned away.
Thinking she was cold, Danny tightened his arm around her and pulled her in close.
* * *
They chose a table on the sidewalk overlooking a fountain and garden beds filled with bright-colored
blooms, where small patches of sunlight still lingered while shadows crawled across the landscape in long fingers.
As lights came on all over the city, the hostess lit candles on the marble-topped tables, and shuffled wrought iron chairs to accommodate new arrivals.
“What a wonderful day this has been,” Nicola said when the waiter hurried to the kitchen with their order.
“Yes, it has. I’ve really enjoyed our time in Philadelphia. I’ll be sorry to leave tomorrow.”
“Me too, it’s a lovely city. I’m glad you brought me here,” Nicola said, and fell silent.
“Did you see that man?” she asked after a while.
“What man?” Danny looked around the restaurant.
“The one in the park.”
Danny frowned and tried to make sense of her words. “The one in the park? What are you talking about, Nicola?”
“The big man with the ponytail, didn’t you see him? He was sitting on a bench under a tree just across from where we were sitting.”
Danny’s frown increased to deep furrows. “No. I didn’t notice. What about him?”
“Oh…, nothing,” she whispered hesitantly.
“Did he say something to you?”
Nicola shook her head. “No. He didn’t say anything.”
“Then, what?” Danny asked, clearly confused.
Nicola chewed on the words for a minute not sure how to answer. “He… he was just strange… that’s all.”
Danny laughed. “The world is full of strange people, Nicola Madison. I know you’ve led a sheltered life, but believe me there are a lot of very strange people out there.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded a grin to emphasize his words.
The waiter returned with a basket of warm rolls and a pot of whipped butter and placed them on the table.
“Your meal shouldn’t be much longer,” he said.
*****
“Who was that?” Rosie wanted to know.
Murder and Mayhem Page 9