“It was dumb luck she was drugged and couldn’t see where she was going. When you and your sister found her with your brother-in-law, it was perfect. I couldn’t have planned it better. I saw you toss the bat in his truck, and he didn’t drive off right away. Taking that bat was easy.”
Well that explains that, but I’m still not sure about the secret.
“What else did Emma see in the bathroom?”
“How do you know that?” Danielle shouts.
“She just told me. She’s standing right in front of you.”
Danielle flinches but remains in her spot. Then she chuckles, but it sounds wavy, as if she’s not quite sure whether she shouldn’t actually believe me. “You are crazy.”
Emma fumes and disappears. Wait, where is she going?
“Besides, it had nothing to do with pills, although, if they’re found… No, they won’t be.”
Suddenly, noise sounds from the other room. Voices. It’s the television. Emma pulled a Billy.
Danielle frowns.
I smile. “Told you she’s here.”
Confused, scared, compelled, whatever her reason, Danielle walks out of the bedroom to investigate.
I scramble to my feet as quickly as possible, using the door and wall for support. The room sways, but I manage to stay upright. I wobble to the bed and hear a whirring sound, like a blender. If I make it out of here alive, I owe Emma big time.
I grab my cell from the bed and dial 9-1-1. I only have a second and not enough time to explain what’s happening to a dispatcher. So upon answering I whisper the street address and “She’s going to kill me”, and then I slip the phone into my pocket. I seize the shovel, make it into the hall, and hear Danielle returning. The bathroom door is open, the light off. I step into the darkness and raise the shovel. It’s heavy, so I rest the handle against my shoulder.
Danielle turns the corner, stops, and looks back to the living room.
I hold my breath, praying she doesn’t see me.
Emma hovers beside her. “I want to kill her for taking my life. I don’t even know what her stupid secret is.”
It definitely sucks to die for reasons you don’t understand.
Danielle takes a step into the bedroom, her back toward me, and I step out of the shadows. She twirls around as I raise the shovel. A mask of horror slips over her face, and as I’m about to have it become intimately involved with the back of the shovel, she pushes into me.
I slam into the wall and tiny white stars decorate my vision for a second. I want to nurse the pain throbbing in my left shoulder and at the base of my skull, but I know I need to move fast. I push back, using all of my weight, but she’s taller and stronger. I’m somehow still holding the shovel, and it’s wedged between us.
She grabs its handle and tries to wrench it free from my grip, but there’s no way I’m letting go. We struggle, each of us hanging onto the handle with all our might. We spin and dance down the hall into the living room. She’s so much taller than I that there are moments when my feet don’t even touch the floor. It would be cool if I wasn’t fighting for my life.
“Oh my God, what else can I do?” Emma screeches.
I have no idea where she is. The spinning through the room is making me dizzy. I take a step back and hit up against something solid. It’s the television set. Danielle throws her weight on me. The wheels on the stand roll slightly, and I shift my feet quickly so I don’t end up flat on my back. But the TV stand hits the wall, and the corner of the set digs into my back.
Danielle pushes me harder and harder into it, until I’m bent over it backwards. I have no place to go. Somehow I need to loosen her grip on me.
“Should I jump back into the TV?” Emma asks.
I turn to focus on her, and Danielle uses my movement to turn the shovel so the handle is pressed against my throat. She’s going to strangle me with it.
Emma screams, “No!”
A flash to my night in my apartment with Kevin comes to mind. He’s the last person I want to think of, but then another thought flashes and I’m suddenly very grateful. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?
I take one hand off the shovel handle and place it on her shoulder. Then with all my strength and the extreme desire to live, I bring up my leg and knee her in the balls.
Pain puckers her brows together, and her grip on the shovel loosens.
“Yay!” Emma shouts.
I push into her with my body. She staggers back a couple of steps and holds onto her junk. I take a swift step to the side, to get away from being blocked in, and realize I’m still holding the shovel. I lift it and smack it across the side of her head.
She crumbles onto the floor. Her eyes are shut.
God, I hope I didn’t kill her.
Emma’s jumping up and down cheering.
I don’t feel nearly as celebratory. I fall onto the sheet-covered couch and hear the blessed sound of sirens.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Shadows dance before my closed lids. I open my eyes and spot Julian standing above me. What the fettuccini? I didn’t even hear the sliding doors slide open. And where is my family? Did he enter Ma’s without being invited and see me on the back deck?
I sit up, swing my legs off the lounge chair, and get to my feet. I walk to the umbrella table and grab my glass of iced tea. Ginger chamomile to be exact. Stacey Anne sent the deli a care package. I think it’s due to her guilt in contributing to Emma’s death. If she hadn’t given Emma roofied jam, the poor clown may have been lucid and strong enough to ward off Danielle’s attack. She at least would’ve been able to scream and alert Wesley.
Stacey Anne confessed to the drugs, stating Naomi and Fawn were in on it too. They each tried to take Emma down. First, Fawn pushed her on the escalator at the mall, and then Naomi rented a car and tried to run her down. Just as I believed. According to Stacey Anne, when neither worked, Naomi got the drug and Stacey Anne mixed it into the jam. They didn’t know what would happen to Emma after she ate it, but they were serious about keeping her away from their husbands. They’ve turned on one another, each blaming another for who came up with the ideas.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Julian.
It’s been three days since the truth was revealed. Three hectic days of police interrogations, hospitals, and Ma fussing over me to make sure I’m still alive. She and Pop haven’t let me return to my apartment. At least, not to sleep. I’ve been bunking in my old room, beside Izzie. This is my last day here though. I’m putting my foot down. As much as I love being waited on, I’m beginning to suffocate.
“I need to see you and talk to you,” he says. This isn’t his first visit. I’ve just declined all the others. Ma didn’t fight me either. She just told Julian to give me time.
“You’ve become the talker, huh?”
“I guess so.” He pulls out a seat for me at the table.
I sit down, not sure if I’m ready for this conversation, but I’m tired of running from things, so maybe it’s best.
He sits beside me. “How are you?”
“Better. The charges against Izzie have been dropped.”
“I know. That’s wonderful,” he says, but happiness doesn’t reach his eyes. I assume his guilt in all of this is high. It should be. I’m still not happy the charges ever existed.
Danielle suffered a concussion like me. But after Sanchez heard my story and saw she was dressed in plaid, he reopened the case. According to Mr. Hamilton, the evidence against Danielle is more damning than the hair found on Izzie’s clothes. No one wants to consider the hair was planted. So without proof, Kevin is off the hook and still a detective. I’m certain he’ll eventually do something else stupid and will one day get caught. I’m hoping I’ll be around to see it. Front row seats and extra-buttered popcorn sounds about right.
At first Danielle was held for questioning, but she wasn’t talking. Not until Wesley visited her. Then suddenly she was full of remorse and confessing because he pleaded with her to be hon
est. I think she thought they still had a chance if she told the truth.
Even though he’s hurt and confused, Wesley still cares about her, and he asked Mr. Hamilton to represent her. There has to be a conflict of interest there, but I don’t care as long as she can’t hurt anyone else. Now, however, my nightmares are of Danielle coming after me with a shovel. Right before she catches up to me, the shovel clanks to the ground, and she turns into Freezer Dude. I can’t wait until the morning I wake up calm and rested rather than drenched in a cold sweat.
“Will Danielle be convicted?” I ask Julian.
He seems hesitant to answer. If he even thinks of keeping quiet about it and not telling me what he knows… “I think they’re going for an insanity defense. Blame it on the mass amounts of hormones she’d been taking. Though, I’d guess the transgender community may have something to say about that tactic.”
As it turns out, I was right the second time. There was no Daniel. Not anymore at least. Danielle is transgendered, pre-operation. She kept putting off setting a wedding date because she needed to wait until she could afford the operation that would physically make her a woman. Falling in love with a man who wanted to wait to be intimate until his wedding night was a coincidence that ended up fitting perfectly with her plans.
She swears she still loves him, according to Wesley—who visited me yesterday. He wanted to make sure I was okay. The poor guy is so torn up. I asked if he minded Danielle is transgendered. Would he have married her if she wasn’t a felon? He couldn’t answer, but the engagement is definitely off. There’s no surprise there.
Danielle admitted the secret wasn’t the pills. She kept her hormone replacement therapy pills in the birth control box so no one would get suspicious. She’d been doing it for years, long before she met Wesley. But when Emma walked in on her in the bathroom, Danielle thought Emma saw her pre-operation, still-male anatomy, and she didn’t want to risk Wesley finding out the truth until after the operation. Danielle believed Wesley wouldn’t care she used to be a man biologically once she became a woman physically. But she knew he’d hate the lying. She said so at her apartment. Yet she convinced herself that he’d get past the lies once he learned the truth. How? Did she really believe their love would conquer all? Poor Emma was drugged and killed over dick.
That should be funny, but it’s not.
“Is your friend still around?” Julian asks.
“My friend? Oh, you mean, Emma? Yeah, for now. She’s leaving soon.”
He nods. “I’m glad it worked out. I’m glad you’re okay. What about us though?”
Wow, selfish much?
To be honest though, he’s all I’ve been thinking about. Him and us and if we have a future.
“I don’t know if I can get past what you do for a living. I still think it’s wrong. Plus, you put my family through hell. Izzie’s arrest, the ten grand for bail. Even if I can find peace with your job, I’m not sure I can forgive you for the rest of it.”
He grips my hand on top of the table. “I know this is hard for you. I cannot express how sorry I am. I plan on repaying everyone. First I’ve arranged for an anonymous donation to the deli to cover the fees your parents paid for the bail bond.”
Well that’s a start.
He’s left half a dozen messages over the past few days too. He apologized in each of them. I know he means it, and this definitely helps, but I’m still hurt.
“I’d like to do something for Izzie too. Whatever you think is best. A spa day, shopping spree, start a college fund for Alice.”
Wow, he’s serious about making up for his shadiness. And generous. With a new baby on the way, Izzie can use the help. But…
“I’m not trying to pay you off. I don’t know what else to do while remaining quiet about my job,” he says, reading my mind.
I understand. I just wish I didn’t. It would be easier to stay mad and keep my distance. Easier on my heart anyway.
He reaches into his jacket pocket. “And I was able to get this back for you.” He pulls out a silver chain, and dangling off the end is my diamond pendant.
I smile and take it from him. Suddenly this piece holds more sentiment than I realized.
“How about we take it slow?” he asks. “If you can’t make peace with it…”
I shut my eyes as he trails off, not wanting to think of my life without him, but not quite sure how to live with him either. I nod and open my eyes. “Okay. Super slow.”
He smiles, and a part of me becomes gooey.
* * *
Later that night, Izzie turns onto Enzo’s block and parks three houses before his. We sit in the car and breathe in the magnolia fragrance from someone’s yard. Emma’s in the back seat being especially quiet. She’s leaving shortly.
Before we go inside, I want to know how Izzie’s talk with Paulie went the previous night.
She shrugs. “I haven’t told him about the baby yet. I will.”
“And?”
She glances behind her. “She’s here, right? I don’t want her knowing my business.”
I glance back and smile at Emma. “It won’t matter in a bit anyway. She’s moving on. She’s only here to help us. You specifically, since you want this so badly.”
Izzie takes a deep breath and grins. “I guess if she can pull this off, I can forgive her.”
I know she’s thinking but has the tact not to say, “Especially since she’s dead.”
“And you and Paulie?” I ask. “Are you forgiving him, too?”
“I told him I’ll go to counseling.”
That’s big. “Did he wonder why the change of heart?”
“If he did, he didn’t ask. Thing is, even before I found out about the baby I wanted to make this work. I love him. That hasn’t changed. And I’m willing to admit I had a hand in pushing him away. That doesn’t excuse his behavior, but I guess I could work on my fear that he’ll walk out on us like Alice’s father did.”
Alice’s jerkwad father did more damage than we all thought. Therapy will help my sister.
“And what about the late nights, showers, and lack of sex?” I ask, although they must’ve been having some sex since I’m getting a nephew or another niece.
She half-smiles and glances out her side window. “He was taking extra shifts, saving up so we can go on a proper honeymoon.”
Oh, how sweet.
I gasp. “The nerve of him.”
She playfully smacks my arm. “Shut up. He’s been so tired, and when he turned me down for sex one night, I guess I made a bigger deal out of it. It escalated in my mind. If I just trusted him.”
Trust. So easy to expect but so hard to give. At least for the Mancini sisters.
“What about you and Julian?” Izzie asks. “Are you guys on or off?”
She doesn’t know he’s a fixer, and it sucks that I can’t tell her. Boy, would that be a dramatic conversation. I’d love to get it off my chest, but I can’t. I promised. And this secret really needs to remain quiet.
“I don’t know yet. We’re taking it slow.” I nod my head toward Enzo’s house. “Shall we?”
Izzie’s smile grows wide. “Absolutely.”
I look to Emma. “Ready? You know what to do, and you don’t mind? You’ll be using a lot of energy.” Despite really wanting to do this, I also want to make sure she’s okay.
She nods. A lock of her red hair falls into her eyes. “Let’s do it.”
Izzie and I get out of the car and gently shut the doors. Emma’s ahead of us. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this a week ago. It’s perfect. And I owe it all to Kevin. Guess I owe him twice now. Kneeing Danielle in the balls was thanks to him too. Not that I’ll be thanking him. Ever.
Izzie and I go to the side of the house and the window of the spare room, and we wait. We don’t have to go inside, no need for awkward landings, or fumbling in the dark for circuit breakers, and certainly no need to get our dear brother suspicious. I cross my fingers that this works. It’s a brilliant plan.
> Emma hovers into the room and looks from the bed to me. After I nod she flies into the blowup doll. In a couple of seconds Dolly starts to move.
Izzie covers her mouth to keep from laughing.
Dolly jumps off the bed and sways into the hall. Gosh, I really wish I was inside.
Izzie and I hurry to the side living room window, hoping to catch a glimpse.
Enzo’s on the couch, watching TV, and as it turns out, we have a perfect vantage point for the scare of his life.
I whip out my cell and turn on the video recording. If all goes well, I’m uploading this sucker to Facebook. I just want to capture Enzo’s reaction. I’ll edit out Dolly’s role.
Suddenly Dolly rounds the corner and waves. As best as a plastic doll without movable parts can wave.
Enzo makes a sound I’ve never heard before, and I bet no human could ever make again. He jumps onto the sofa, dropping his beer. The bottle hits the floor and miraculously stands upright. When she walks closer, Enzo leaps over the coffee table and grabs his gun, which was in the unlocked lock box on the bookshelf. He fires two rounds into Dolly before she falls limp.
Emma stands in her place. Her eyes are wide, and she glances down to make sure she doesn’t have bullet holes, obviously forgetting she’s already dead.
Izzie can’t hold her giggles back anymore. She screams, “Gotcha.”
Enzo jumps and turns to us. His eyes are huge. Fear is etched into every crevice of his face. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t wet himself. Still clutching his gun, he points it right at us.
Izzie and I duck. Squatting against the house, we burst into laughter.
“I’m going to get you two back. Just wait,” Enzo shouts. He sounds super pissed. And super scared.
Izzie and I fall onto our butts on the grass and laugh harder.
Finally!
* * *
When Izzie drops Emma and me off, I grab my key and unlock the deli. Pop reopened it this week, but he’s gone now, locked up an hour ago. I’m so glad to be almost home. It’s gonna suck having an empty apartment though—just when I got used to the company.
Jennifer Fischetto - Dead by the Numbers 01 - One Garish Ghost & Blueberry Peach Jam Page 21