“Yes, I am. Getting hysterical doesn’t help much. Right now, I think we should check on Ron and Sarah. See if they need any help. Then we should bring in everything we can from outside.”
“You’re right. It’s getting late anyway. I’m putting the closed sign out and we’ll go be good little neighbors. I just hope they aren’t the little neighbors who want to kill us for a baseball card.”
Rose found Ron Tucker packing up his car. He was leaving to stay at his daughter’s for a few days. “Everything’s put away. I think we’re all making a big deal out of nothing, but my Lindy is having fits. She won’t rest if I stay here alone.”
“I don’t blame her. I hope you’re right and this is all wasted effort, but we really do need to be ready for the worst,” said Rose.
“Will you girls be all right here alone?”
“We’ll be fine. We’ve got plenty of food and batteries. We’ll see you in a few days.”
She met Daisy coming back from Mrs. Hudson’s. “She and Abby are off to Abby’s parents’ house.”
“Good. Let’s go over to the Tavern and get something to eat. We’ll see what Mattie and Frank are planning to do.”
“Sounds good. Has Bill called back yet?”
“No. I’ll try him again when we get home.”
They were dragging in the last of the lawn furniture inside when Bill finally called back. “Read the letter to me.”
Rose read the note. “He didn’t include delivery instructions.” There was silence on the end of the line. “Bill, you there?”
“Yes. I’m thinking. You and Daisy can’t stay there. You need to leave. I can’t get over there right now. I’m up to my ears with preparation for this storm and I need you and Daisy someplace safe.”
“We’re safe. We’ve got the alarm and the dog. We’ll check everything twice. Besides, where would we go?”
“Just go to your mother’s for a couple of days.”
“I don’t think so. Daisy, me, Mother, two dogs, a cat and mother’s pals in a small townhouse? Not going to happen.”
“How about your boyfriend?”
“We’re not that friendly.”
“Well then, what about Marc what’s-his-name? Daisy’s friend?”
“Again, not that friendly, and he lives near the water. He’s probably worried about flooding. Really, Bill, we’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like it. You’re sitting ducks there alone. You could stay at my place.”
“With Bambi? That would be rich. No, we’re staying here. We’ll keep in touch with you and Tom Willis. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Daisy had been listening to the conversation.
“That moron didn’t really suggest you and I should spend a few days with that frizzy-haired wacko, did he? We’d kill each other and you’d have to referee.”
“He’s worried about us. And so am I, really. I know I keep saying we’ll be fine, but will we? We are going to be totally alone here. The Tavern is closing, the neighbors are gone. It’s just you and me.”
Daisy smiled and said, “I’m not worried. I plan on drinking my way through this thing. I’ve got all the makings for Hurricanes and corned beef sandwiches. I’ve got two coolers filled with ice, in case we lose electricity, and we have the Bunsen burner for hot water in the morning. What else could we possibly need? We will be fine.”
“It’s not so much the storm I’m worried about.”
“I know. But nobody is going to come out in this mess. He’d have to be crazy.”
“Maybe he is.”
Thursday morning the rain started to come in. In the afternoon the wind picked up. Malcolm and Roscoe were unhappy. They paced and howled. Daisy and Rose called Angela on speaker phone to make sure she was all right.
“I’m wonderful. The girls are here and we’re snug as bugs in rugs. I wish you two would come over. You still have time. I have a bad feeling. Something’s going to happen and I won’t be able to help.”
“Mom, nothing is going to happen. It’s just this weather. It’s depressing. And you already have a houseful. Just relax. You and the ladies have fun.”
“Oh, we will. But you two sleep downstairs. I don’t want a tree coming down on you.”
“We already planned to do just that. We love you, Mom. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“I love you, too. Take care.”
They hung up. Daisy made lunch. They watched the weather on TV. Bathsheba had been downgraded to a Category 1 and was coming in a little to the east. So, not a direct hit, but bad enough.
Later that afternoon, Rose handed Daisy a cocktail and they settled on the couch to wait it out. She asked, “Have you checked the doors and windows?”
“Yes. Twice. Everything is locked and bolted. Shades are down, curtains closed. Alarm on. Animals inside. Drink up! We’ve done all we can.”
“I know. But when Mother has a bad feeling, I don’t like to ignore it.”
And so they sat and listened to the wind shrieking through the trees, the rain beating against the side of the house, and the sound of sirens in the distance. It was six o’clock and the hurricane was beginning to descend on them with its full force.
They slipped in a movie and made popcorn and wondered how long they would have electricity.
Angela was having fun. It was ten o’clock and the wind hadn’t let up for hours. The lights had flickered a few times causing everyone to scream. But the four friends were safe and as comfortable as they could be.
They were playing Pictionary and drinking Angela’s Naked Runner cocktails. Angela’s best friend, Regina Owens, wearing pink baby-doll PJs that barely covered her more than ample rear end, was drawing for her team. When she dropped her marker and bent over to pick it up, someone shouted, “We need a picture!”
She stood up abruptly and said, “No, you don’t.”
But Angela pulled out her camera and said, “Come on ladies. Smile for the camera. We need to make a record for posterity.”
She got pictures of everyone and a really nice group shot of the four of them huddled together in front of the picture window using the ten second delay.
Regina said, “You can’t see the storm, you know.”
“I know, but we’ll remember it. I’m putting these on the computer right now. We’ll email them to our kids.”
“Oh lord, my kids already think I’m nuts.”
There was a knock on the door and Angela opened it to one of the community’s security guards. He took one look at the four women and turned bright red. Regina was, of course, wearing the pink baby-dolls. The other two women, Theresa and Dot were wearing nightshirts. Theresa’s had a voluptuous bikini-clad woman’s body on it giving the impression that it was her own. Dot’s had a picture of Georgia O’Keeffe’s sexually suggestive Black Iris with the inscription ‘You should see MY iris!’ And Angela was wearing a pale green, very short, chiffon dress with gold braid crisscrossing the bodice, and fairy wings. She was also wearing a miner’s light on her head.
Angela asked, “Is there a problem?”
“No.” He looked at her strangely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“Oh, you’re not. We’re having a little pajama party to wait out the hurricane.” She looked at her friends and laughed. “I guess we do look a little odd.”
Dot, who was pouring another round, said, “You look a little odd, dear.”
“I do? Oh, well, yes, I guess the miner’s light looks a bit silly. But if we lose power, you’ll thank me.”
“No, sweetie. Not the miner’s light.”
Angela looked down at her outfit and whispered to the poor guy, “I see. These are not really pajamas. Just between you, me and my headlight, I don’t wear nighties in the summer. So I just pulled out this little number I wore for Halloween a few years ago. I was a fairy.”
The poor guy simply didn’t know what to say to that. He cleared his throat and finally croaked, “I’m just checking on everyone and I noticed your drapes w
ere open. You should probably close them. We don’t want anything flying through the glass.”
“I certainly will. Can you come in for a little drinkie-poo?”
“Thanks, but I’m on duty.”
“Of course you are. Well, don’t get blown away.” She smiled as she closed the door and said, “What a nice boy.”
The ladies got back to the game while Angela uploaded the pictures. She was giggling as she looked through them. “These are great. Our kids will love them!”
When she came to the group shot she called over her shoulder, “This is really good. We look wonderful.” But as she stared at it, something bothered her. Something was off balance.
Then she laughed. Of course, there it was in the corner of the shot. She could just make out the security guard’s face as he passed by the window under the porch light. It was kind of spooky looking. Then she stopped laughing, put her hand to her mouth, and whispered, “Oh, no. Oh no. Oh no. That’s what was wrong.”
She quickly opened the email from Daisy with the pictures Elyse Dove had given them. She flipped through to the shot of Margaret and her friends that had seemed so off to her before.
Angela enlarged the picture, so she could see everything in the background. She grabbed the phone and dialed Rose’s cell. No answer. She tried Daisy’s, but it went straight to voicemail. Next she tried their landline. It rang, then she heard crackling on the line, then silence.
She was getting frantic. She thought for a minute and then called the Bostwick police station and asked for Tom Willis. She waited and finally heard his voice saying, “I’m currently out of the office. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Tom, you need to call me right now. I’ve just seen the killer!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Daisy’s cell rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She grabbed it and said, “Hello? Hello? Who is this?”
“Daisy? It’s Marc. Are you all right?”
It was a bit past ten o’clock and the storm was really going to town. She and Rose had tried to watch a movie, but the wind and rain were now so loud, they couldn’t concentrate.
“Marc? Oh, sorry. I’m a little on edge. The phones haven’t been working and it startled me when it rang. Is everything okay there?”
“Sure. I’m just watching the water creep up the lawn. I wanted to check on you and Rose. Not that I could do anything much really.”
“That’s a kind thought, Marc. We’re okay. I’m just jumpy. Marc? Marc?” She put the phone down. “We got cut off.”
“The circuits are overloaded. When Peter called earlier, he said he had tried for over an hour before he got through and then we got cut off, too. Have another drink. You need to relax.”
“I know I do. That wind just sounds so sinister. It’s unnerving.”
Rose yawned and said, “At least we have electricity. You know what? I’m going to take a shower while it’s still on. Then maybe we can get a little sleep.”
“You’re going to take a shower? Upstairs? In this?”
“In what? It’s not raining in here. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”
Rose grabbed a flashlight and ran up the stairs. A minute later Daisy heard the water running. She put Roscoe on her lap and rubbed his ears. “I hate this storm.” Roscoe butted her chin with his head as if agreeing totally that this storm wasn’t his cup of tea either.
Suddenly the wind stopped howling. At the same time the landline rang sounding like a fire alarm in the eerie silence. Daisy jumped up knocking the cat to the floor and tripping over Malcolm who was curled up at her feet.
Daisy grabbed the phone and said, “Hello?”
A pathetic sounding voice said, “Help. Please. I’m alone. Can you come get me?”
“Who is this? I can hardly hear you.” The wind started shrieking again and Daisy had to strain to hear. “Who is this?”
“This is Mrs. Hudson. Is that Daisy? Can you help me?”
“Mrs. Hudson? Where are you?”
“I’m next door, dear. I decided to stay. But something just fell outside and I’m scared. Can you and Rose come and get me?”
“Oh my God, yes. I’m on my way. Get your boots and raincoat on. I’ll hurry.” She hung up the phone and ran up the stairs. She shouted into the bathroom, “Rose, Mrs. Hudson is stuck in her house. I’m running over there to get her.”
Rose called out, “What did you say?”
Daisy yelled back as she was in her closet digging out her old boots, “I’m going next door to rescue Mrs. Hudson. We’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Rose turned off the water and heard Daisy running down the stairs. “Wait a minute. Where are you going? I’ll come with you. Daisy, wait for me.” But Daisy was already gone.
Rose hurriedly dried off and pulled on shorts and a tee shirt. As she was leaving her room, the phone rang. She grabbed it and shouted, “What?” She thought she heard her mother’s voice for just a second, but the line went dead.
She hung up, picked the receiver up again and listened for a dial tone. Nothing. A dreadful feeling crept over her as she put the phone back down. She grabbed her flashlight and went downstairs calling out to her sister.
Daisy wasn’t there. Malcolm and Roscoe were huddled on the couch. Roscoe’s hair was on end. Rose asked, “What’s wrong with you guys? And where did that half-wit sister of mine go?”
A soft voice whispered in her ear, “She went next door to save that half-wit old lady. You should have gone too.”
Daisy ran down the steps to the back door, put on her slicker and pulled the hood up. Then she turned off the alarm and opened the back door. She slammed it again murmuring to herself, “Front door, idiot!”
She ran back up the steps, through the living room, then down the front steps and out the door. She was almost knocked down by the first gust of wind she encountered and had to walk doubled over down the sidewalk. As she got to the Hudson house, she looked up. No lights were on.
She looked back at her own house. Still lit up, so the power was on. She got to the front porch and banged on the door. “Mrs. Hudson, it’s Daisy.”
The door swung open and Daisy stepped inside. She called out again, “Mrs. Hudson? Sarah? Where are you? Are you all right? Why are your lights off?” She fumbled for the light switch and turned it on. Sarah Hudson was sitting a chair in her chartreuse robe and fuzzy, turquoise slippers, tears running down her face.
She looked at Daisy with sad, terrified eyes and said, “Where’s Rose? You were both supposed to come.”
“Mrs. Hudson, what’s going on? You’re not even dressed. Why was Rose supposed to come?”
Daisy stared at the old woman, her gaze drawn to the fuzzy slippers on her feet. And then she pictured Rose standing in the water on their back porch holding up her “clue” – a piece of blue fuzz.
“It was you? You tried to flood our house? Why?”
The old lady just looked at her.
Daisy grabbed her arm and shouted, “Mrs. Hudson! What the hell is going on?”
Sarah Hudson sighed and finally said, “You couldn’t just leave well enough alone. If you’d just gotten rid of that card, it would all be okay. I was trying to warn you off. But it’s too late. Sit down and have a cup of tea. You’re going to need it.”
A cold sensation rushed over Daisy. She hesitated a moment, then ran out the door and fought her way back up the street. She paused in front of the house and looked up into the living room window. She saw the shadow of two people struggling with each other. She screamed and started running up the walk. At that moment all of the lights went out.
Rose dropped her flashlight, as a strong arm wrapped around her neck. In the mirror over the couch she saw Abby Wentworth in a black rain slicker holding a five-pound dumbbell over her head.
Abby hissed, “Where is it? That card, I need it now. I need to get away from here and I’m running out of time.”
“I don’t have it. You’ve g
ot it. Remember. We’ve done this before.”
“That envelope was empty. There was no card in it.”
“Well, I can’t help it if you lost it.”
Abby shrieked into Rose’s ear, “I want the card now!”
Rose was thinking frantically. “Brad must have stolen it back before you got here the last time. That must have been the card in the frame in his shop.”
“Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong!” She was screaming. “That was a copy, a freaking color copy. Now tell me where you hid the damned card or I will bring this weight down on your ugly head!”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I don’t have the baseball card.”
Abby raised her arm to strike, but Rose jerked sideways and the weight came down hard on her shoulder. She screamed in pain, but managed to bite the arm around her neck and break free. She fell hard to the floor and was scrambling frantically trying to reach her heavy flashlight, as she felt Abby straddle her legs. Then the maniac started swinging the dumbbell like a hammer. Rose rolled to her left and then to her right as the weight came down again and again missing her by inches with each swing.
As Abby’s arm came down a third time, Rose managed to throw herself over it and pin it under her, but she had no leverage. Abby pulled her arm free and was raising the dumbbell for a final deadly attack when everything went black. Rose rolled away as far as she could. She braced herself for the blow, covering her head with her arms. But instead of pain, she felt Abby roll off her legs and heard her start screaming in terror. Then Rose heard the weight fall to the floor.
Suddenly, there was pounding on the stairs and Daisy ran in shouting, “Oh my God, Rose. Where are you? Are you all right?”
Daisy shone her light across the room. Rose shouted over Abby’s screams, “Over here. Shine it over here.” Daisy spotted her and Rose found her own flashlight, turned it on, and jumped to her feet.
They both moved their lights to the center of the room where Abby Wentworth lay on the floor, crying now, and pleading for them to help her. The dumbbell lay near her, but she was covering her face with both hands. Roscoe was perched on her head, his claws embedded in her scalp. Malcolm sat placidly on the middle of her back, a chunk of red hair hanging out of his mouth.
Roses are Dead My Love Page 17