She’d forgotten to swallow and coughed. The humidity had risen and her gauzy dress stuck to her back. “On the way here I remembered that shop that’s in one of the houses before you get to Rosebank. It’s called Comforts, and two sisters live there. They do well out of their shop because everything is either top quality, or top quality and handmade. The doll is really something and all dressed by hand, and the buggy was made by a local craftsperson. Love at first sight,” she said. “I either had to get it for Wendy or for me, and I’m a bit old.”
“I’ve never been able to give her things like that,” Spike said.
Vivian was quiet, watching him.
“It doesn’t hurt for her to have it, though. I’m glad. Thank you very much.”
“Oh, please don’t be so formal and stiff,” Vivian said, her eyes filled with an appeal. “I don’t have any children to buy things for.”
“And now you’ve come into a little fortune, you can indulge an outlet that appeals to you. Money changes things.”
Her mouth snapped shut and she turned her face from him.
Smart, Devol, damn your proud hide. “Forget I said that. Old habits die hard and I come from people who believe the man does the providin’.”
“You can provide for me anytime.”
He stared at her and couldn’t close his mouth.
“I mean—”
“What do you mean, Vivian?”
“Nothin’, just that I’m not some leftover suffragette. But I’ll tell you one thing. The days are gone when a man has to get all bent out of shape because a woman believes she should do her share. And also, Mama and I haven’t made up our minds about a thing. We’re in a difficult position and I need your help. Your help, Spike, not the frozen shoulder because you come to stupid conclusions. I need you to be my friend—I don’t trust anyone to be there for me the way I need you. If you want to throw all that back in my face, say so and I’ll disappear.”
Spike followed Wendy’s progress with the buggy and its dolly, doggy load. “I’ll be your friend for as long as you want me. It’s only going to get sticky, really, really sticky, if you try to forget what we’ve had going between us. I want to take that dress off you right now and get you naked. I’m in the mood to love you tender, and love you wild. I’m not sure I can step back from that.”
”Spike.”
“The thought sickens you.”
“The thought makes me wet, you idiot, and distracted and if you touched my breasts right now, the pain would be incredible, and beautiful. Now stop it. You’re taking advantage of my weaknesses.”
He smiled, loving the gift she had for putting sexy stuff into words.
“I guess you don’t have any personal reactions you could put into words for me,” Vivian said. “Just so I don’t feel like a forward woman working with an unwilling, maybe, participant.”
“I don’t have your way with words,” he said, and noted that Wendy had started back. “But my buns ache, and my balls. Whoops, maybe I should have said testicles. My penis is downright painful and my gut is like a rock. My whole body is like a rock. And, if it’s okay to mention it, you fill my heart and soul and I think, scary as it is, that it’s love that does the filling.”
“This is the strangest love affair, Spike.”
“Oh, yeah? You admit we’re having a love affair. That’s real progress.”
She snorted. “I’ve already admitted it. More or less. Now hush up.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve got work to do. I think I’m gonna need to enlist Cyrus—and even Madge. She’s a gutsy girl and she’ll do what has to be done. A lot happened today and I need to make decisions. By the way, Homer’s smitten with you. Wants you to stay to dinner. How do you feel about that?”
“Hungry.”
“I take it you’re acceptin’. Good. Later when Homer’s about his business and Wendy’s asleep in bed, can we try to work some things through while I tell you my plan?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m stickin’ to you, Spike. I need you. I think it’s a good idea to bring in Cyrus—and Madge—but first we should go over a few things on our own.”
He barely stopped himself from saying Oh, yeah. Wendy arrived, her cheeks pink and her eyes filled with light. “Boa’s still asleep. He just wants to be a baby. Vivian said how it’s difficult for kids to be all on their own so she’s gonna see what she can do about it.”
Spike held his breath.
“She’s gonna talk to someone and see about getting a boy doll brother for Rosebud.”
Chapter 35
Olympia Hurst, Ellie decided, needed to be set free from her mother’s ambitions. Ellie glanced at her from behind the counter and caught her, once again, lost in thought. When Olympia wasn’t trying to either shock or impress, her expression became vulnerable.
When he’d dropped in earlier, poor Bill had made the mistake of sitting with her again and trying to make conversation, but whatever he’d said hadn’t pleased Olympia and she had moved to another table. He’d shrugged at Ellie and grinned before making a fast getaway into the square.
Ellie couldn’t help but wonder if an unhealthy rivalry between Susan Hurst and her daughter, at least on Olympia’s side, accounted for Olympia’s petulance around Bill. Susan and Bill seemed comfortable together—some said too comfortable although Ellie didn’t see anything wrong with their friendship. But it could be that Olympia had a girlish crush on him and felt her mother was in the way.
For more than an hour Olympia had sat alone, staring. No other customers remained in the shop.
“Can I top up your coffee?” Ellie asked.
Olympia breathed deep through her nose and slowly focused. Before she had time to slap on another pout, an absent smile turned a beautiful face into pure sunshine.
Ellie took a coffeepot to Olympia’s table. “Little more?” she said.
“Oh, no, thanks.” Olympia checked her watch. “It’s past closing time anyway. I’d better let you lock up.”
Digging, she produced some bills from the pocket of her shorts and got up. “I need to pay for these, too.” She had picked up several magazines, all of them on interiors and furniture.
“You’re interested in houses?” Ellie said.
“I want to be an interior designer,” she said. “If I ever get to do anything I want.” The pout reappeared and the girl fiddled with the ends of her hair while she waited for her change.
Ellie locked the shop door behind Olympia and sighed at the prospect of another evening alone. Recently her old fear of the dark had come back and she dreaded the hours awake in her bed, straining to hear noises. During the day, logic told her the rustling, the sounds of breathing, were only in her head. Logic lost its comforting power once night fell and the time came to turn out the lights.
All day, since the discovery she’d made that morning, Ellie had kept busy and tried not to think about the sick way she’d been threatened. The memory of the defaced photo brought her fist to her chest. Muscles in her thighs ached.
Even before she became a teenager, Ellie had decided marriage wasn’t for her but lately she’d wondered if it would be nice to have someone special in her life. Maybe. As long as special meant good. Ellie had seen too much of the other.
She pushed her hair away from her damp forehead. The shop was cool, but waking up bad feelings and breaking into a sweat went together.
Balanced on a shelf between jars of loose candies, a little radio filled some of the silence with Dr. John singing “Such A Night.” Ellie sang along while she washed Olympia’s mug and moved food into the refrigerator.
Outside, a deep quiet had fallen on the deserted square as businesses closed. Joe Gable’s army-green Jeep still stood under a twisted sycamore tree growing from a space in the sidewalk. Dust coated the vehicle.
Ellie liked Joe. He came in for coffee each day and she found she looked for him and his friendly banter. Joe went home to the place he shared with Jilly, but one day, and probably soon, he was bound to marry so
meone and move out.
Every female head turned at the sight of him. He would never look at her in that way, even if she wanted him to.
She didn’t want him to, not really, he was just a convenient man to daydream about.
Her final duty before going up to the apartment was to replace unshelved books left on the table and chairs at the back of the store.
One day she’d have proper sliding ladders in the shop, but until she could afford them, a sturdy aluminum stepladder did the job and got plenty of use each day.
A slow, pinching roll in the pit of her stomach restarted the sweating. “Silly, silly,” she told herself aloud. How long should it take a grown woman to bring baseless fears under control? Would she ever stop being scared of dark places where she couldn’t see all the corners clearly? Places like the cupboard she’d been into many hundreds of times for the ladder?
Spike told her she’d done the right thing in reporting about the books and the photo. He’d kept them to see if any fingerprints could be what he called “lifted” and told her to be “aware” at all times.
Aware? Every muscle in her body hurt from tension. She was never comfortable unless her back was where no one could get behind her.
The unshelved books could wait until the morning. And why not consider taking Ozaire up on his offer to find her a puppy? He said he had connections and could get her a good price on a German shepherd.
Under other circumstances she’d get a mutt, a stray, but a well-trained guard dog was what she had in mind. She smiled, thinking she felt more enthusiastic about most dogs than she did about almost all men.
Joe’s Jeep passed the shop. Ellie had neither seen nor heard it until she glanced out and saw the rear of the vehicle passing out of sight.
The buildings at this end of the square emptied out entirely at night, except for when Bill was in the cottage behind the shop—which didn’t change a thing for Ellie—or Samie Machin came home to her apartment upstairs. Samie had a friend in town, another service wife and often spent nights with her.
Ozaire would be at the Rosebank fete tomorrow and Ellie would give him the go-ahead on the dog at once.
She had no place to go, no one to go to.
Self-pity wasted good time.
A door at the back of the café led to a vestibule with an exit to the yard that separated the main building from the cottage. Stairs to the upstairs apartments rose from the same area. Ellie went into the vestibule and locked the shop behind her. Bill and Samie used an entry from an alley beside the building when they were late.
Halfway up the stairs she heard the phone ring in her apartment and ran the rest of the way. She dashed in and snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”
A dial tone sounded. It shouldn’t disappoint her so to miss a phone call. She waited, giving the caller time to leave a message on the machine. The red light started to flash and Ellie punched the button.
“Hi there, Ellie,” a cheerful male voice said, “sorry to miss you. I was hoping you were free to spend the night with me.”
The night? He must mean the evening.
The familiar voice wasn’t completely clear and she couldn’t think who it was, darn it.
“Call me back and let me know if you’re in the mood for some fun.”
How could she call him back if she didn’t know who he was?
“You know the kind of fun I mean, but maybe I can help you make up your mind.”
Ellie prickled all over.
“Don’t turn chicken on me now. I can see your face and you’re getting scared. You never have to be scared of me. All I want is to spend time with you and show you all the things you’ve been missing. Stop shaking now. There’s no one but me to see you, so why bother?”
She shook her head. He couldn’t see her, he’d just anticipated her reactions to what he said. “Don’t listen. Turn it off,” she said aloud.
But she couldn’t follow her own orders.
“Energy is what it’s all about,” the voice went on. “Energy and pain—now don’t go all shocked on me again. I’m going to help you make up for all the sex you haven’t been getting. A woman with tits and an ass like yours can’t be allowed to waste herself.”
Ellie trembled. She had hurried into the apartment and grabbed the phone without turning on the lights or closing the front door.
“Relax. Call me. I’ll be right over to fuck you to heaven. One thing, Ellie, if you tell anyone about this call, you’ll suffer. I won’t be half as gentle with you. This call can’t be traced. I’m near you, Ellie. Do you like knives as much as I do?”
She tried to scream but couldn’t make a noise. The message was over but the phone rang again and she picked up, praying it would be someone else.
Dead air. Silence, then the faint click of someone hanging up.
She dropped the handset. “Call Spike.” The sound of her own voice, even though she panted, helped fill the silence.
“Number. What’s his number?” This wasn’t an emergency so she couldn’t dial 911. “Where’s my telephone book? Where is it?” She kept her leather-bound book on the table beside the phone but it wasn’t there. “Put the light on, idiot. You’re overreacting.”
“Is this what you’re looking for, Ellie?” A man spoke from close behind her, and thrust her leather-bound book in front of her face. “Ah ah ah, don’t turn around.”
At last the swallowed scream let loose. Her eyes closed and she shuddered with the force of the terrible sound through her throat.
He was here with her; standing behind her in the semidarkness. He grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her neck and forced her head forward, twisted the hair until she dragged in sobbing breaths.
“Shut up, bitch.”
The voice blurred. He’s speaking through something.
Still using her hair, he pulled her upright and wrapped an arm around her waist. His breath was hot on her neck. “Forget calling the law. They already have suspicions about you.”
“Let me go.”
Again he tightened his grip on her hair, and again he shoved her head forward, shaking her while she cried out.
He walked with her doubled over, trod on her heels with each step until she yelped and hopped, trying to avoid the crushing sting in her ankles. With a final shove he cracked her shins into the couch, toppled her to kneel on the seat and landed her face on the back.
“Now listen to me carefully.” He slid one knee on either side of hers, trapping her with his weight. “If you make the mistake of doubting what I say, you won’t get a second chance to do as you’re told. Understand?”
She gave a muffled “Yes.”
“I won’t forget what I promised you.” He was erect and pressed himself into her bottom. “Mmm, mmm, a sweet ass. No, I won’t forget.”
Ellie retched. Her stomach heaved and her throat constricted.
The man laughed. “Getting overexcited? Don’t vomit unless you want to drown. Tomorrow you’ll go to the Rosebank fete and you’ll smile. You will be happy, the life of the party. And you’ll wait for a signal. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“You will know when the signal comes. You will feel it and act at once. Spike will be near and you’ll ask him, privately, to go with you because you have something to show him.”
He wasn’t going to kill her. No, he wanted her to do something for him. Laughter bubbled in her throat.
“Tell him things got out of hand. Take him to the pool. That’s all you have to do.” Tugging on her hair, he raised her face from the couch. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, but what will I say when we get there?”
“Nothing. You won’t need to say a word.”
Ellie sweated. The sickness would not pass. “Then what should I do?”
“You’ll know what to do. You’ll remember that I’ll be watching you, even though you don’t know who I am. You’ll know that you must not mention me or this cozy meeting.”
“But—”
He
thumped her face on the couch again. “Do as you’re told,” he hissed in her ear. “Nothing more and nothing less. If you make contact with Spike Devol before the fete, I will have to make sure it’s the last time you disobey me—or anyone.”
Chapter 36
“Does Homer always go out at night?” Vivian asked.
“Nope.” Like just about never. “He does get together with his buddies now and then. He’s probably like the dead man at the feast. What I don’t understand is why he decided to stop by and see your mother—and take Wendy with him.”
“Don’t you?” Vivian raised her chin. “I think you do. I think Homer’s decided I’m not so bad and he’s figured out how close we are. He’s giving us time on our own.”
After supper Vivian had insisted on shooing Homer and Wendy away and doing the dishes. She stood at the sink, rinsing glasses and turning them upside down in a drainer.
“Homer doesn’t believe in newfangled gadgets,” Spike said. “Like dishwashers.”
She felt his eyes on her back. “I’ll have to make sure he sees a commercial one when we get it put in at Rose-bank.” The conversation might be light, but Vivian grew more tense with every word. Spike could as well be running his hands over her body.
“Stop that for a minute, will you?” he said. “I’ll finish it up later.”
Vivian looked at him and wiped her hands dry. “What’s up?” He wasn’t just being polite and she took her seat at the kitchen table again. When she crossed her legs, he watched, his lips pressed together.
From her ankles to her hips, hovering too long on her breasts and finally arriving at her eyes, he made a visual tour that dissolved her insides. “There’s so much it’s hard to know where to start,” he said. “I’ve still got a connection or two in Iberia. I managed to find out something that was bugging me. The kisses.”
“Gil didn’t have one.”
“He could have. Maybe it got messed up and faded is all. The mark on Louis wasn’t made with blood. The murderer used a stamp—probably carved in a piece of cork—and shiny red lipstick.”
“Why bother?” Vivian said. She locked eyes with Spike and saw a reflection of her own revelation. “More theatrics. The rose, the so-called kiss.”
Kiss Them Goodbye Page 31