Hit & Mrs.

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Hit & Mrs. Page 11

by Lesley Crewe


  “Yeah, I killed him. I pushed him down the stairs, so let that be a lesson to you. Don’t mess with me.”

  “You’re a regular James Bond. I need a smoke. Give me my cigarettes.” Ida drove over to the pack on the coffee table. “How can you smoke? Your hands are behind your back.”

  “Like that’s stopped me before.” He reached out his neck and when Ida finally grabbed one out of the package with her linked hands, she put it in his mouth. Then she had to drive over to get a light.

  She struggled with the match. “I can’t move my hands enough to do this.”

  “Try.”

  She did. “Nothing.”

  “I know, the stove. Help me up.” Ida pushed at his back and nearly toppled him over. Then she drove behind him as he wobbled into the kitchen.

  “Turn on the gas.”

  Ida tried to reach the back dial. “I can’t do it. It’s too far back.”

  “Get your hiney out of that chair for two seconds and do it. I’m croakin’ here.”

  “What a grouch.” She rocked a bit and lunged, turned it on, and poof…set Izzy’s eyebrows on fire. His cigarette became a torch. In a flash, Ida reached up and grabbed the back of his head with her bound hands and pushed his face in the sink. Luckily, it was full of hot soapy water. When Izzy finally surfaced with dish-detergent bubbles in his eyes, he sputtered, “Why didn’t you let the guy kill me?”

  “I should have. You’re never grateful for a thing.”

  Izzy dripped on the floor. “Could you get me a towel?”

  She reached for a dishtowel and wiped his face.

  “Ow, watch my nose.”

  “You’re such a baby. Do it yourself, then.” She threw it on the kitchen table and sped towards the top of the stairs. “I called the police. They should be here any minute.”

  Izzy resorted to bending over to press his face into the towel. “Good, I was about to call them myself, to tell them you’re trying to murder me.”

  “Keep it up. I’ll kill you and blame it on the big ape at the bottom of the stairs, and don’t think I won’t.”

  “I wish you would. Maybe then I’d get some peace and quiet.”

  Candy was in a fury. He nearly killed Dumb and Dumber when they came and told him they lost the girl, because now he had to relay that piece of news to his boss, and he didn’t like his chances. He couldn’t look at their ugly mugs, so he told them to wait outside his office in the warehouse. Candy popped more Life Savers in his mouth. It helped him with his stress levels, but his teeth were starting to rot.

  When Freddy the Fish called with the good news, he hollered for his two henchmen. “Get in here.”

  They opened the door. “Yeah, boss?”

  “Fuck this up and you’re dead. Go to the Waldorf. That Bette Weinberg is there with a broad named Linda Keaton. I don’t care how you do it, but I want those women and that bag brought here by sundown. Capiche?”

  Dumb and Dumber nodded and left. Maybe Candy could salvage something out of this disaster. But it was only two hours later when the phone rang again.

  Candy grabbed it. “Yeah?”

  “Freddy bought it.”

  “Say again?”

  “Vince saw the ambulance take his body away. The Weinbergs’ neighbours said he broke his neck.”

  Candy hung up. This was the work of professionals. No doubt about it. Who were these women? He’d never heard of broads doing a job. What was the world coming to?

  It was nearly noon when Clive wandered over to Linda’s to feed Buster. He put the key in the lock, but when he placed his hand on the knob, it turned and the door opened. He jumped back. That wasn’t supposed to happen. What was going on? Then he remembered. It was probably Wes, although he didn’t see his car.

  He opened the door a little wider. “Wes? Wes?”

  There was no answer. Then the hairs on the back of Clive’s neck stood at attention. Linda’s mail was on the floor, and when he looked down the hallway, he saw a chair on its side. Perhaps Buster had gone on a rampage, but he knew in his heart that wasn’t it. When he got to the living room door, he knew for certain. The place had been burgled. But how was that possible? The alarm hadn’t gone off.

  He ran back to the front door and saw that the wire leading to the contact on the door was cut. Someone knew what they were doing. He ran through the house. All the drawers in Linda’s secretary desk were on the floor, papers scattered about. There were open drawers everywhere, but the obvious things weren’t touched—televisions, stereos, DVD players. He ran into the bedrooms. Linda’s jewellery box looked intact. What were they looking for?

  Then he remembered Buster.

  “Buster. Buster. Here, pussycat…psst psst psst.” He had to find the cat. Linda would be heartbroken if anything happened to him. He searched and searched and had almost given up when he found him crouched behind the washing machine.

  “It’s okay, Buster. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Buster looked like dandelion fluff in his attempt to protect himself. It was quite a battle to get him out. Clive finally resorted to using a mop handle to poke him towards the other side. He grabbed the cat as he tore by. Buster did his best to rip Clive’s hands to shreds and Clive, in desperation, dropped Buster into a wicker clothes hamper and shut the lid. He filled a shopping bag with tins of cat food, then took a new bag of kitty litter and ran upstairs with the bags and hamper. Buster growled and hissed the entire time.

  Clive hurried over to his house with his cargo. The boys greeted him enthusiastically and then went into a frenzy of sniffing. Buster’s howls became more acute. Clive put Buster in the spare room, grabbed a pan and put kitty litter in it, then opened a can of cat food, put it on a plate, and poured some water in a bowl. Finally he tipped the laundry basket on its side, opened the lid, and ran like hell for the door. He shut Buster in. The boys continued their sniffing contest along the crack of the door, but at least Buster was safe.

  Clive wasn’t sure what to do next. He didn’t want to phone Linda and ruin her holiday. He’d have to let Wes know, since he had no idea where Stuart was. So he ran back to the house and grabbed the paper Linda had left on the fridge with all the phone numbers on it. He placed a call to Wes. A voice came on. “The cellular customer you have dialled has their phone turned off. Please try again later.”

  “Stupid git! Your mother buys you a phone and you never turn it on.”

  He sat at Linda’s kitchen table and stewed. If he couldn’t get a hold of Wes within a reasonable amount of time, he’d have to call Linda. He had no other choice.

  Stuart had an important seminar on laser techniques for facial reconstruction in a conference room downstairs, but he was missing it thanks to Ryan’s stubborn refusal to come out of the bathroom. His pleas fell on deaf ears. When the hotel phone rang he thought it might be one of his colleagues telling him to get his ass downstairs pronto.

  He picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Dad?”

  “Wes?”

  “How come you didn’t answer your cellphone?”

  Stuart took his phone out of his pocket and looked at all the missed call messages. “Sorry, I thought it was on vibrate. I have seminars all day. How the heck did you know where to find me?

  “I had to call your office. Is that chick with you?”

  “Wes…”

  “Forget it, Dad, I’m not interested. I have to tell you something. The house was broken into.”

  Stuart’s hand gripped the phone. “Is your mother all right?”

  “She doesn’t know, and I don’t want her to know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s in New York and I don’t want to ruin her good time.”

  Stuart felt a shiver go up his spine. “Your mother is in New York?”

  “Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?” Wes said. “She’s even staying at the Waldorf. I’m surprised you two haven’t met in the elevator.”

  Stuart’s mouth was so dry he had trouble speaking.
Linda was here. She was stalking him and terrorizing Ryan. Oh my God. She was having a breakdown and it was all his fault. Who knows what she might be capable of? And her friends were with her. It was Bette he’d saw in the doorway, and Augusta and Gemma by the elevator. But how did they know he was going to be in New York? At this hotel? And on this floor? It was probably his office receptionist. She always did have a big mouth.

  All this ran through his head in a matter of seconds. Then another thought came to him. “Wes, were you with your mother before she left?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t think she’s capable of trashing the house, do you?”

  “She’d love to slash your suits all to shit and I wouldn’t blame her if she did, but Mom would never wreck the house. It was a break-in. Mr. Harris called me. He’d gone over to feed Buster and that’s when he saw the mess.”

  “Was there much damage?”

  “Nothing too important, and not much was taken, either. It’s like they messed up the place looking for something and then took a few things to make it look like a robbery.”

  “Wes, I want you to go into my study and look in my filing cabinet. I have a list of our credit cards in there somewhere. I don’t have all of them with me. Can you cancel them, just for safety’s sake? Don’t worry about the American Express. I have that one on me.”

  “Yeah, all right.”

  “And then get someone in to change the locks.”

  “I’ll call the security company, too; the wires have been cut.”

  “Yes. Good idea.”

  “I’ve talked to the police. They filed a report but said the chances of finding out who did it are pretty slim. It happens all the time. I’ll clean up the house. Chloe and I are staying here for now. I want to be here when Mom gets home, because she won’t have a key for the new lock.”

  “Chloe? Is she your girlfriend?”

  “What do you care? You haven’t been interested in anything Mom and I do lately. Your attention’s been elsewhere.”

  Stuart flinched. He knew he deserved it, but it still hurt.

  “Listen, Dad, I have to go. I just thought you’d want to know. I don’t know why, since it doesn’t concern you anymore…”

  “Wes—”

  “Go to another hotel, Dad. Don’t parade the chick in front of her. Mom doesn’t deserve that.”

  “Don’t hate me, Wes.”

  There was a long silence. “I don’t.” He hung up.

  They were almost at Saks when Bette took the call from her mother. She stood in the middle of the street with a look of utter amazement. When she hung up and laughingly told her friends the foolish story Ida had come up with to make her feel guilty, they all had a great chuckle, which did a lot to raise their sadly depleted spirits. They gave themselves permission to have a good time in this famous store. They had to, or they’d go nuts.

  It was like a dream. The whole first floor was taken up with every cosmetic company known to man. Everywhere they looked, women sat in casting chairs having their makeup done for free by cosmeticians, in the hopes of selling their very pricey wares. Employees also stood at every corner of the aisles handing out coupons or perfume samples. It was easy to get mesmerized, especially when they realized that Gucci, Prada, and other obscenely expensive handbags were on display around the perimeter of the floor.

  When Gemma said she wanted to have her makeup done, they all decided to do it. They had a fantastic time being turned into women they didn’t recognize. Bette was a real surprise. She only ever used Chap Stick, and there she was with Sugarplum lips. Linda insisted on taking all kinds of pictures. They even got one of the cosmetic girls to take several pictures of all of them together. It finally felt as if they were on vacation.

  Eventually they wandered upstairs to the clothing department. Linda picked out several outfits and four pairs of high heels, which weren’t at all practical for traipsing around New York, but she didn’t care—she was still in mourning over her favourite Jimmy Choos.

  Linda was also unconcerned about the amount on the price tags.

  The other three were thriftier, even though she insisted they put their purchases on Stuart’s card. Gemma picked up a few tops for her kids and Augusta found some pretty jewellery for her girls. Bette grabbed a quilted bed jacket for Ida and a gold-plated lighter for Izzy.

  The four of them met back at the cashier.

  “As soon as I pay for this,” Linda said, “I’m going to run into the dressing room and put on this pantsuit.” She held it up for her friends to see. “Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s DKNY.”

  “I’m not going to ask how much that is,” Augusta said.

  “Neither am I,” Linda laughed.

  The three friends stood aside once they placed their items on the counter. Linda then piled her clothes and chosen shoes on top of them. The clerk ran up the purchases.

  “That will be $4,783.26.”

  Linda passed over the Platinum Visa card and didn’t flinch. Her friends’ mouths were open. She glanced at them. “What?”

  “Almost five thousand dollars,” Bette whispered.

  Gemma shook her head. “You can’t spend that much.”

  “Why can’t I?”

  “You better put my gifts back.”

  Linda dismissed them with her hand. “No indeed. Most of this is mine anyway. We deserve this after the misery we’ve been through.”

  The clerk looked up from her register. “I’m sorry, but this card has been declined.”

  Linda looked at her. “Pardon me?”

  The clerk maintained a neutral tone. “It’s been declined.”

  “But that’s not possible. Do it again.”

  The clerk swiped it again with the same result.

  Linda’s cheeks started to flush. “I don’t understand it. This has never happened before.”

  Bette came forward. “I had that happen once. Sometimes the magnetic strip wears out.”

  Gemma stepped up too. “That’s it, Linda. You’ve worn it out.” She looked at the clerk. “Could you punch the numbers instead?”

  The clerk nodded. She punched in the numbers.

  Declined.

  Linda stamped her foot. “I don’t believe it.” She rooted through her wallet. “Here. This is my American Express. Put it on that.”

  The clerk swiped the card and looked up. “I’m very sorry, but this one has been declined as well.”

  By then there was a lineup of shoppers who were getting impatient or downright nosy about the unfolding drama.

  “This can’t be happening,” Linda said. “I don’t understand it. Now you won’t get your gifts.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Augusta reassured her.

  “Of course not,” Gemma said.

  Linda’s hand suddenly flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, it’s Stuart. He’s found out about the card somehow. He’s doing this to get back at me.”

  “Is that possible? How would he know about it already?” Augusta asked.

  “How does he know anything? He’s always one-upping me, the two-timing jerk. I’m almost sure he’s behind this.”

  The clerk looked over Linda’s head to the crowd behind. “I’m sorry, but if you’re not purchasing these items I’m going to have to ask you to move aside. There are other customers waiting.”

  Linda stepped away from the counter, pulled out one of the tissues she’d stuffed down her bra that morning, and wiped the corner of her eyes. “What am I going to do? I have no clothes and now I can’t buy any.”

  Her friends gathered up the clothes and shoes she wanted and hustled her off to the side.

  “Sure, you can buy some,” Augusta patted her hand. “I’ll put it on my Visa card.”

  “I have a little money too,” Gemma said.

  Bette looked distressed. “I’d give you some if I had any.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “What are friends for?” Augusta gave her a hug. “Now, what do you really need?”

&
nbsp; “A pair of slacks and some high heels. My feet are killing me in these loafers.”

  “All right, I’ll buy your shoes,” Augusta said. “How much are they?”

  Linda picked up a pair. “Eight hundred dollars.”

  Augusta cleared her throat. “Perhaps a tad less expensive.”

  Linda put them back in the tissue-papered box. She held up the least expensive pair. “These aren’t costly. They only have a kitten heel.”

  Augusta grabbed them. “Great. I’ll buy these, and I’ll get you this nice sweater too.” She pulled it out of the pile of clothes. Gemma ended up buying her a pair of jeans, a bra, and some panties with her yogurt money. Linda thanked them profusely. She went into the dressing room and changed into her new duds, stuffing Augusta’s jeans and bra and Gemma’s shoes in her shopping bag. When she emerged she looked a little more pulled together.

  “Let’s get out of this store,” Linda said. “I have to think about what to do.”

  They stepped outside and the sun made them squint, so they quickly put on their sunglasses and joined the lunchtime crowd walking briskly down the street. That’s when a man in a suit tapped Gemma on the shoulder. She spun around.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Would you mind stepping back into the store?”

  “What? Why?”

  “We’d like to have a word with you.”

  Bette, Linda, and Augusta talked over each other. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong? Who are you?”

  “Store security.”

  The blood drained from Gemma’s face. “What on earth are you talking about? Are you suggesting I stole something?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything ma’am. We’d like to speak to you and would prefer to do it in private, unless you want the whole street to hear me.”

  “The whole of New York City can hear you for all I care. How dare you accuse me of something so horrible? I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”

  Linda pushed her way between them. “There’s been a terrible mistake. We know this woman. She’d never steal anything in a million years.”

  “If she doesn’t come with me right this minute, I’ll have no alternative but to call the police.”

 

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