Avi turned suddenly when he saw movement in the reflection of the door. A small red headed girl hopped off her bike, laying it against the stairs leading up to the front courtyard. Avi smiled as the girl unwrapped a ten dollar jelly light from the handlebar and shoved it in her pocket before she turned toward the school. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place her face. He couldn’t believe he’d forget the owner of such a cool ride.
“Nice Stingray,” he said as she climbed the five steps. “That’s a classic.”
“What?” She looked awfully sleepy for dinnertime.
“Your bicycle. It’s called a Schwinn Stingray.”
“It’s a hand me down.”
“Well, it’s a nice hand me down, kid.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Avi. I’m sorry if we’ve met before but I just can’t remember your name.”
“It’s Kimi.”
“Kimi.” Avi placed the name. “Your mom’s a surgeon.”
She nodded.
“Dr. Dannon. She came in on career day.”
The girl nodded again.
“What are you doing here so late, Kimi?” He pulled the end door open and held it for her to lead the way in.
She was silent as she passed him, glancing at his spit shined shoes. Avi didn’t push. He thought she might not answer at all.
But after she took a few steps she turned back to him. Her green eyes flitted around the lobby and commons area. She seemed to have a lot on her mind. “I have to find my cousin.”
“Can I help?” he asked.
Kimi thought for a moment, then shook her head. “She’s working on her chemistry project. I know where to go.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kimi.”
She headed off across the open commons toward the science wing and then turned back. She looked in his eyes for a moment and then her gaze shifted to his shoes. She glanced down at her own filthy Keds with purple laces and shook her head. Looking back up to his face she finally said, “See you tomorrow, Avi,” and took off down the hall at a jog.
Avi considered following. He knew she had wanted to say something else to him. But his shift was over in an hour and he had to report back to the station to write up his day and clock out. So he continued on his rounds, checking all of the exterior doors and thinking about dinner at The Freckled Dog with Kissy.
Four
Kissy froze for just an instant when she saw Tim sitting at the end of her bar. Her heart beat a little faster. He was a very pretty man. White blond hair cut short and naturally tousled. Gray eyes that could turn blue when he laughed. And his abs were very nice even if his slim form could never compete with Avi’s massive chest. The thought of Avi helped her regain her equilibrium. She threw away the trash accumulated in front of Tim and his date and then leaned on the bar. She stared the man down, waiting for a smart remark.
“Hi Kissy,” Tim chirped.
She sighed, “Of all the bars in the big city. . .”
“Why do I have to drink in yours?” he finished for her.
“Yeah.”
“Brit likes the spinach dip.” He smiled at the young Native American beauty beside him who reluctantly smiled at Kissy.
Kissy noted the red coaster under Brit’s soda. Underage. She wiped a hand on her apron and held it out. “Nice to meet you, Brit.”
Brit looked a little scared. But she quietly shook Kissy’s hand.
“Kissy, this is Brit. Brit, this is Kissy. It’s okay,” he reassured her, “Kissy’s a friend.”
Brit didn’t look comforted. She dropped Kissy’s hand as quickly as she could and stood. “Excuse me. Where’s the restroom?”
Interesting, Kissy thought. She knows she likes the spinach dip but she’s never been to the restroom. Out loud she said, “Just down that hallway beside the kitchen doors. Second door on the left. Third door is where we do interrogations, so don’t go too far.”
Brit stared at Kissy in shock. “Excuse me?”
Tim stood and patted her arm. “She’s joking.”
Brit headed toward the hallway. She caught eyes with Whiskey for a moment as she passed. She was not happy to see him.
Kissy turned back to see Tim watching the girl walk away as well. “Is that her ex-boyfriend? He thought she’d go to prom with him but you stole her away?”
“Which means he’s available for you. Or are you still dating that goodie two shoes, Avi?”
Kissy ignored the taunt. “I thought you were going to the gym to help Julia with circus school tonight.”
Tim smiled. “Keeping tabs on me?”
“Looking out for my gimpy friend.”
“She’s in a walking cast now. Said she didn’t need me.” He sat back down on the stool.
“You’re not supposed to believe your sister when she says things like that.”
“No means no.” Tim took a sip of his. . . Kissy glanced down at the side column on the speed rail monitor. . . cherry coke.
“You’re not drinking? Cuz she can’t? Aw, how sweet.”
She topped off his drink. Tim didn’t answer right away. He took a sip and tilted his head at Kissy, considering.
Then he murmured, “I never drink when I’m on the job.”
Kissy dropped the soda gun. She bent and grabbed it off the ground, wiped it clean, and then looked around as she reseated it on its hook. “You’re gonna kill someone here? Someone in my bar?”
Tim nodded, smiling.
“You are such a jackass.” Kissy turned and stormed off to her prep work.
Five
Kissy paused in mutilating a pile of limes and lemons to refresh the boys’ drinks. When she returned to her cutting board, Jessica was waiting.
“Been busy?” she asked, reaching for the knife.
Jessica held the knife away. “You’re scaring people.”
“I am not who they should be scared of,” Kissy replied grabbing a lemon from the pile.
Jessica stared at her curiously. “Who is it they should be scared of?” She glanced around the room, “The teenyboppers? The future superintendent? Sad Sally?”
Kissy glanced around the room herself. Jessica was right. No one in the room looked like someone who deserved to die. So which of these people was Tim’s target?
She stopped looking around and stared across the bar. What the hell kind of question was that to be asking herself? No one should be Tim’s target. She looked up at Jessica, took a few deep breaths and released her grip on the lemon.
“Can you take care of this for me?” she asked Jessica.
“Yes, please,” Jessica nodded, easing the lemon away.
Kissy tapped a hand along the bar, smiling at each of the boys as she circled her way back to Tim. Brit had returned. She was head to head with Tim, whispering. But she clammed up the instant she noticed Kissy.
“Sorry.” Kissy smiled at the awkward girl. “Can I steal Tim for one minute?”
Brit looked at Tim nervously and shrugged her shoulders. Kissy jerked her head to get him to step away from his date. He stood, amused, and walked a few steps farther along the bar. He sat on the door-side, leaving one stool between himself and the balding gin and tonic drinker. Kissy nodded at the guy and furiously wiped the bar, considering how to state what should be obvious.
Tim waited patiently.
Finally she just blurted out, “It’s wrong.”
“That you’re serving me? I would love to serve you.” He smiled wickedly.
“You’re on a date,” she practically yelled. “A gentleman doesn’t flirt with others when he’s on a date.”
“I agree. A gentleman does not do that.” Tim nodded.
“Tim Goodenuff, you know what I mean.”
“I’m the KC, Kissy. Have you forgotten the C?”
“On Call?”
Tim sighed. “It’s Killer with a Conscience.”
The G and T drinker looked over with raised eyebrows.
Tim leaned over conspiratorially. “I only kill bad people.”
G
and T chuckled uncertainly. “Well, that’s very Dexter of you.”
Tim shook his head. “Yeah, but I don’t enjoy it. It’s just that some people really need to die. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I work with teenagers.” G and T held his glass up in a toast as if that was all he needed to say. “Kevin.” He held out a hand to Tim.
“Tim.”
Kissy watched in horror. When the introductions had been made the men both turned to look at her expectantly. She turned her back on them and returned to Jessica and the cutting board.
“Gimme.”
Jessica didn’t even look up. “No.”
Kissy considered arguing. Instead she grabbed a glove from the box and scooped the cut garnish into their appropriate containers.
Jessica smiled at her understandingly. “You met Kevin. . . Coach,” she said sotto voce. “I often want to cut things after chatting with him.”
Kissy glanced back at the guy, now chatting with Tim. “He’s a regular?”
“That’s right. You’re new to Tuesdays.” Jessica got herself a glass of water and refilled Whiskey’s. She leaned on the bar. “Kevin is a charmer. Right Shawn?”
The Whiskey sipper nodded.
Jessica went on. “But it wears thin real fast.”
Kissy glanced around the room. “Is Tuesday always this young?”
“No.” Jessica looked to Shawn for confirmation. “It’s weird that we have all these kids in here on the same night the future superintendent is having a meeting here.”
“Which one is that?”
“Kevin.” Jessica raised her eyebrows significantly.
“He told me a real man drinks whiskey,” Shawn muttered over his glass.
“He’s a friend of yours?” Kissy asked.
“Was my field hockey coach. He. . .” Shawn frowned at his drink. “I don’t like whiskey.”
“But you’re drinking it,” Kissy observed.
“He convinces you to do things.” The kid let his eyes catch Kissy’s. He looked intolerably sad. Then he slipped from his stool and slunk off to the restrooms.
Jessica reached over and shot a spritz of water into Shawn’s whiskey. “Your friend seems to like Kevin better than his date.” She nodded at Brit, sitting miserably alone.
“Not my friend,” Kissy replied automatically. Although her stomach lurched a little remembering how soft and hot his lips had been the one time she’d kissed him.
She glanced down at the monitor on the speed rail to see the digital feed from the cameras focused on the other side of the bar. She looked just in time to see Kevin watching a young girl walk by. Just in time to see Tim slipping something into Kevin’s drink.
Kevin was just putting the glass to his lips when Kissy got to them. She whipped the glass from his hand and carefully set it in the sink.
Kevin stared at her.
Tim glared at her.
Six
Avi held open the arts wing exit door for a pimply faced boy struggling to get his instrument from the band room out to his mom’s car. He wondered how the short kid even played the upright bass, envisioning the boy standing on a stack of phone books to reach the tuning keys. Avi would have offered to carry it out for him but even a thirteen year old has his pride. So he watched as the mother waited patiently by the open back of their minivan. When the mom waved, he nodded and let the door fall shut.
Terry Able, one of the school’s three part time janitors, looked up from his mop as soon as he heard the door latch. “God, I hope that kid grows a few inches.”
Avi chuckled. “Any kid who could actually carry that thing should be recruited into football.”
Terry rubbed a hand through his military short hair cut, filling the air with what Avi guessed was marble dust from his day job. “Bet you played football.”
“And the upright bass,” Avi replied, checking the lock on the exit door.
He strolled slowly back down the hall examining the unconventional wall decoration. The high school’s arts wing walls were covered in graffiti. It was school sanctioned graffiti. The predominant colors were green and gold and the mural contained very little objectionable subject matter. If a questionable item found its way onto the wall, the student was given the opportunity to defend their art. Avi had been surprised to find that most of the young artists won their cases.
Very occasionally Terry found art that wasn’t sanctioned by the school authorities. Terry had grown up to be a sculptor but he had an appreciation for other forms. If he liked the taboo tags, he’d leave them until the administration asked him to remove them. And when he did, he went to great lengths to preserve whatever work had been painted over.
Avi respected anyone who took pride in their work.
“Was your voice this low when you started playing the bass?” Terry asked, bending back over the glue spill he was laboriously mopping up.
“Nope. I started playing bass in Elementary School. Didn’t become a bass until Junior year of High School.”
“You’d think all the drinking would have stunted your vocal chords.”
Avi shook his head, sighing. “That was your high school, Terry. I was a good kid. Had to be a role model for my little brother.”
They both turned at the sound of hard soles pounding on the linoleum floor, running slowly in their direction. Avi stood up straight and took a few steps towards the clatter. When he saw Ralph Nance turn the corner, he relaxed. Ralph kept running, or at least his bouncing belly version of running, until he reached Terry.
The janitor reached out a hand to steady the old man as he slipped on the wet floor. “What’s the trouble, Ralph?”
“Security Guard Nance,” Ralph corrected him with heaving breaths. “I heard the voices. Did a student do that?”
He thrust his chin at the mess Terry was cleaning because both of his hands where firmly planted on his thighs, holding himself up as he tried to catch his breath.
“That’d be my guess,” Terry confirmed. “Ms. Moser left me a note about it.”
“Where are the punks?”
Terry looked befuddled. “What are you talking about?”
Ralph straightened and took a deep breath like he was about to rip into Terry.
So Avi stepped in. “Ralph. I believe it was an accident. There’s no one at fault.”
“I heard voices.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Terry mumbled, head down as he returned to scrubbing.
“Terry and I have been talking. Could that have been it?” Avi put an arm on the security guard’s elbow, trying to lead him away from Terry.
But Ralph pulled out of Avi’s grasp and tried to tuck his shirt back into his pants and straighten his crooked toupee. “What are you still doing here? I’m in charge at night.”
“Yes, Ralph. I’m just checking the exit doors before I head back to the station.”
Ralph started mumbling about how he was perfectly capable of checking the doors, in fact he did check them several times a night, always had, and why did the school think they needed police on campus since he’d been perfectly capable of protecting the school grounds for forty years on his own. And on. And on.
Avi and Terry had heard it all before. Avi was jealous that Terry could turn back to his job and ignore Ralph. Ralph expected him to be rude that way. But Avi was forced to listen and wait for a breath when he’d have to invite the old man to join him in checking the last two doors.
It sounded like Ralph was winding down to a good interrupting point when suddenly all three were knocked off their feet as an explosion rocked the school.
Seven
Tim knew he should be pissed at Kissy for interfering with his kill plan. But she was so cute and earnest. She’d always been sure of right and wrong. Even in high school when she and Julia would complain about essay test scores being dependent upon how much the teacher liked you. He’d thought she was cute then too. But now he could appreciate how she’d grown into a beauty. Perfect skin, vaguely almond eyes from her dad, s
urprisingly nice breasts which had grown since he’d run away ten years ago.
She had been just as awkward back then though. He watched as she wiped at the bar and grabbed a clean highball. She pulled the Tanqueray from the back bar and poured a drink long on gin, short on tonic. As she squeezed a lime onto the rim, she finally offered an explanation for why she snatched the drink.
“The last batch of limes were rotten. We are so very sorry.”
Tim giggled silently. He watched as Coach Kevin Koehler took a sip and made a show of enjoying the fresh G and T. With a quick little smirk at Tim, he smiled charmingly at Kissy. “Tastes wonderful. Even better than Jessica.”
Tim kept his gagging internal. He didn’t dare tear his eyes from Kissy and for a beat he thought she considered returning the original drink. She didn’t do it.
Tim leaned back and raised his eyebrows at her. “Like I said.” He waited until Kissy gave him the barest glance and then turned to Koehler as if the entire comment had been meant for him. “I prefer grown women.”
“They have their appeal.” The future superintendent of schools admitted. He glanced over at Brit. “But I see you’re favoring a younger flavor this evening.”
Kissy was trying to catch Tim’s eye. Her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the top of her red half apron. He wanted her to hear a little bit more first.
He put a hand on his target’s back. “There’s a lot more to Brit than you might think.”
“Brit was in my AP Biology class a couple years ago.” Koehler gave Tim a conspiratorial look. “I know how much more there is to Brit.”
As the coach laughed and took another long drink, Tim finally looked up at Kissy. “I’m sorry. You needed to talk to me, didn’t you.” He stood and offered his hand to Koehler. “I’ll be back. I’m not done with you.”
“I look forward to it. But take your time. I understand.” And he winked.
Tim circled the bar, stopping to reassure Brit for a moment before he continued on down the back hallway. The smells from the kitchen permeated the hall making him wish he had planned to have dinner before the job. But he was self-aware enough to know that it was never a good idea to kill on a full stomach. More often than not, it would be a waste of food.
Killer on Call 6 Book Bundle (Books 1-6) Page 6