Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1)

by C. Mack Lewis

  Jack lowered his voice into soft empathy. “You were just a kid. You did the best you could.”

  Eve’s lips trembled. She slumped over, sobbing.

  Jack felt a painful grip on his heart. He wanted to take her in his arms, but he forced himself to remain still as he listened to her story.

  “Laura came to me in New York – when I was at NYU. We made it like she ran away. She phoned Vivian – told her she was fine, not coming back, so there’d be no missing person report, no police. She lived with me while I went to school. I told you she has mental problems. I didn’t know how serious it was – till…” She shook her head. “Laura got jealous. Not sister jealous – lover jealous. I didn’t know what to do – I didn’t understand what was going on. A doctor told me it was Obsessive Compulsive Disorder – a love disorder – for me.”

  Jack gazed at her, unsure.

  Eve said, “I swear – my stepfather never touched me.”

  “When did you find out Laura wasn’t your sister?”

  Eve stared at him blankly. “Laura’s my sister. She’s ill but – she’s my sister.”

  Jack gestured for Eve to sit at the kitchen table. He pulled out the missing person reports and photographs of Laura as a child and gave it to Eve to examine.

  After several moments, Eve looked up at Jack, shaken. “Laura can’t find out. She’s too fragile.”

  “You think she knows?”

  Eve shook her head.

  Jack said, “Your mother said Laura was dropped off at the girls’ home.”

  “If that’s what she said happened – it has to be true.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows.

  “If you’re suggesting that mother kidnapped Laura – that’s insane.” Eve bit her lip. “Vivian gave Jeni a home. She took her in, she didn’t steal her.”

  “Your mother has an interesting way of accumulating children.”

  Eve said, “Whoever took Laura – that’s the person who dropped her at the girls’ home. Mother couldn’t have known.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that Laura killed your stepfather?”

  Eve shook her head, emphatic. “Impossible. I know Laura – she’s not capable of such a thing.”

  Jack hesitated. “Are you sure you saved her?”

  “You said Jeni was writing a book. Could she have – written – I mean, if she did anything – would she have written it in her book?”

  “I haven’t read that far,” Jack said before he could think better of it.

  Eve grabbed his hand. “You have it? You have the book?”

  Hating himself for the lie, Jack nodded.

  “Thank God,” Eve said, relief flooding her face. “If you have it – it’s safe. You won’t let it out – you would never hurt me – or Laura – now that you know.”

  Jack watched her, troubled.

  “You would never hurt me,” she leaned in, gave him a soft lingering kiss.

  Determined to resist, Jack didn’t respond.

  Then he did.

  By the time his phone rang with the long-awaited call from Enid, he had already switched it to mute.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  I like whiskey. I always did, and that is why I never drink it.

  Robert E. Lee

  Bud smiled, trying to look more professional than he felt as he sat in Petunia O’Donnell’s off-white living room that was proof positive of a child-free home. “So you have no knowledge about whether or not your husband hired a private investigator?”

  Petunia O’Donnell shook her head as she sucked on a lollipop.

  Bud couldn’t recall the last time anyone had worked him into a schoolboy blush the way Petunia had done in her first three licks. Bud made a show of looking around the room. “Lovely home you have, Mrs. O’Donnell.”

  “Call me Petunia,” she purred.

  Bud felt his face get hot. It was the first time that Bud had ever seen Larry’s home and he was impressed. Larry was doing well – better than well.

  And his wife!

  When Petunia opened the door, Bud understood with perfect clarity why Larry was a tortured soul when it came to his wife. Outside of Bunnie, Petunia O’Donnell was the closest thing to perfection he had ever laid eyes on. When she led him into the living room, Bud eyed her swaying figure, envious that Jack had somehow had the wherewithal to get a woman like this.

  How in the blazes had Jack, much less Larry, gotten a woman like Petunia O’Donnell?

  Petunia turned on him with a smile. “What’s this about, Officer?”

  “Detective,” Bud said, handing her a business card.

  She tapped the card on the inside of her wrist, not reading it. “Can I call you Bud?”

  Bud nodded. “Do you know a man named Frank Ficus?”

  She sat on the couch, curling her legs under her and gesturing for him to sit. “Nada, papa.” She unwrapped another lollipop and licked it.

  “Does your husband know Frank Ficus?”

  “Have you talked to my husband?”

  “My partner spoke with him this morning.”

  “And?”

  “Do you know Jack Fox?”

  Frowning, she set the lollipop down in a spotless ashtray. “What’s this about?”

  “This is a murder investigation and – ”

  “Murder?” She jumped up. “Is Jack…?”

  “Frank Ficus was the victim.”

  She sat down, troubled.

  He felt a stab of jealousy when he saw her face reflect concern.

  Over Jack?

  He said, “What’s the nature of your relationship with Jack?”

  With a toss of her head, she said defiantly, “Jack was my boyfriend.”

  “When?”

  “When I was married – if that’s what you mean.”

  “Are you involved with him now?”

  She picked up the lollipop, tapped it on her lip. “I broke it off with him. At least, I tried to.”

  “How so?”

  “Jack was obsessed with me – wouldn’t leave me alone. I told him that my husband and I were trying to work things out. I thought about filing a restraining order but, well, I didn’t want to because I thought it might affect his job – him being a detective and all.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He told me he couldn’t live without me. Kept raving about how he loved me and how the thought of me being with another man was driving him insane and he was going to kill me and then himself – you know, the usual.”

  Bud raised his eyebrows.

  “I cared about Jack.” She sucked her lollipop, eyes drifting toward the window dreamily. “I didn’t love him – not like he loved me. With him, it was beyond love – it was like one of those grand passions in a French book, you know? He was desperate and passionate and jealous – he said he’d do anything for me. Have you ever been in love like that?”

  “Did you know Jeni Hargrove?”

  “Tall blonde, dressed like a stripper?”

  Bud flinched, nodding.

  Petunia said, “I was in Jack’s office when she hired him to find her real mother. I overheard the whole conversation – I mean, if that was her.”

  Bud pulled a photo from his wallet, showed it to her.

  Petunia said, “That’s her. The day I saw her – Jack convinced me to come to his office. He wanted to take me to lunch and I would never have gone except he was acting so crazy that I was scared to turn him down.”

  Bud frowned.

  Petunia said, “I wanted to see him, make sure that he was going to be okay. Anyway, she was in the next room and, let me tell you, she was coming on pretty strong, but he shut her down. I was actually sort of hoping he would take her up on her offer so he would leave me alone.”

  “What offer?”

  “She came on to him like a ton of sloppy bricks. She kept saying she was a nursing student – but she was dressed like a hooker.”

  “When’s the last time you talked to Jack?”

  “That d
ay. I told him it was all over between us.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “Threatened all sorts of things. He kept saying that if he had enough money – I’d never leave him.”

  “Money?” Bud said, his pulse quickening. “Did he mention any specific amounts?”

  Petunia shook her head, stuck the lollipop back in her mouth. “Are you married?”

  Bud nodded, watching her maneuver the lollipop around her mouth.

  Petunia said, “What’s her name?”

  “Bunnie.”

  “Are you happy?”

  Bud stared at her, unsure.

  “Marriage is funny,” she said, responding like he had answered. “I think we should only get married for three years – a contract for three years – and if you’re not happy at the end of three years, you don’t renew the contract and you can each go your separate ways. No harm, no foul.”

  “Doesn’t seem fair to the woman. Especially if there were kids.”

  “Why? Because of some old cliché? The woman gives up the best years of our lives and then the man leaves?”

  “That can work both ways.”

  “I bet you were stone-cold gorgeous when you were younger.”

  Bud blushed.

  “Oh, not that you’re not handsome now,” Petunia said as she got up and sat next to him. She gently pushed his hair from his face. “I could cut your hair – there, like that.” She smiled. “Yes, you are handsome. Quite.”

  Bud sat frozen as Petunia’s fingers tangled deep in his hair. He might as well have been in sixth grade again with Callie May Jones sitting this close and waiting expectantly for him to – do something.

  Bud abruptly stood, heading toward the door. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Don’t be a stranger, Bud.”

  As Bud hurried to his car, a mixture of relief and regret twanged in the pit of his stomach.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing.

  –Jonathan Swift

  Enid sat in Eve’s closet, hands clamped over her ears. She was torn between laughing hysterically and barfing up a lung.

  When Eve had finally come back to her bedroom, the last thing Enid expected was to hear Jack’s voice.

  Before she knew it, she found herself an unwilling – and horrified – ear-witness to old-people sex.

  Why don’t old people realize that the only people who should be having sex are teenagers and twenty-year-olds? Maybe an occasional hot thirty-year-old – maybe.

  She debated crawling across the wide expanse of Eve’s bedroom floor but couldn’t bring herself to unclamp her ears.

  Finally, the horrible noises had stopped.

  Enid eased her hands from her ears and was relieved with the fabulous sound of no sex. She crept to the closet door, determined not to miss any chance to escape.

  They were talking and Enid leaned in to listen.

  Eve said, “I’ve been waiting for someone like you.”

  Enid put a finger in her mouth in a barf-motion.

  Jack said, “You don’t make love like somebody who’s been waiting.”

  Is that a polite way of calling her a skank?

  Eve laughed. “Natural talent. I’m scary that way.”

  Enid rolled her eyes and looked through the cracked door. The bed was so big and high that she couldn’t see them. She eyed the distance between her and the door, estimating her chances of making it without them catching her.

  Not good.

  Eve said, “You’re horrible – at being horrible.”

  Jack said, “They think I murdered Jeni.”

  Enid froze, surprised.

  Jack said, “And Frank Ficus.”

  Who’s Frank Ficus?

  Eve said, “Who’s Frank Ficus? Who’s ‘they’?”

  “The police.”

  “Well, that’s silly,” Eve said flippantly.

  Jack laughed.

  Enid frowned, prickling with irritation at how relaxed he sounded.

  Eve said, “You have an alibi, right?”

  “I was napping.”

  Enid rolled her eyes in disgust.

  She heard kissing sounds, sheets rustling.

  She felt panic rise up in her at the thought of them starting up again. She vowed that, no matter what, she had to get out of there. It was getting dark and if she was careful, they would never know she was there.

  Heart hammering, she opened the door and crawled into the room. Her plan was to get under the bed and, after that, there was twenty feet and she’d be at the door. If they were going to go at it again, maybe they wouldn’t notice the door opening.

  Eve said, “You can tell me – did you do it?”

  Jack said, “That’s a fine question.”

  Enid inched forward, resisting the urge to go fast. Suspicious sounds were floating down and she felt sick at the thought of getting stuck under the bed during any old-people Olympic sex.

  Reaching the bed, Enid rolled over a heap of clothing and almost grunted aloud when she felt the spiked heel of one of Eve’s shoes jab her in the ribs.

  Eve said, “Have you ever killed anybody?”

  Enid edged herself into position to make the final crawl to the door. Luck was with her as the room was getting darker by the minute.

  After a loaded silence, Eve laughed, “Forget I asked. It was stupid.”

  Enid held her breath as she crawled from under the bed and made her way to the door.

  The mattress gave a bounce and Jack got out of bed and stepped down – right on the back of Enid’s hand.

  Enid shrieked in pain and bolted for the door, terrified that they would recognize her. It sounded as if an explosion went off behind her and as she reached for the door, she was jerked backwards. She landed hard on her tailbone and looked up to see Jack staring down at her.

  His face was blown up with rage and his hand was clutching a knot of sheets over his crotch.

  Enid got an eyeful of naked Eve standing on the bed, eyes glittering like broken glass. She looked like a wild animal ready to rip her to shreds.

  “What the…?” Jack yelled. “Are you fucking mental?” Jack grabbed his jeans from the floor and tried to put them on while retaining his grip on the sheets.

  His grip on her loosened and Enid made a break for the door. Jack jumped forward and grabbed her so hard that they both slammed to the floor.

  Enid gave a violent kick that sent him howling and cursing backwards. She jumped to her feet, jerked the door open and ran.

  Her feet caught on a rug at the top of the staircase and, except for grabbing the banister, she would have tumbled down the marble stairs. Enid shot down the stairs and out the front door. She had a flash of the animal eye carvings on the door glaring after her like she was a prey.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  It belongs to human nature to hate those you have injured.

  –Tacitus

  Eve said, “She was in here while we – ?”

  Still on the floor, Jack looked from the door that Enid had just disappeared through to Eve who was on the bed – naked, gorgeous and – furious.

  Jack sat on the floor, flabbergasted.

  What just happened?

  Jack rubbed his shin. Enid had kicked with ferocity that he found hard to believe came out of ninety-eight pounds of skinny legs and worn Converse sneakers. He shifted his weight, feeling that he was sitting on something. It was a manila envelope with something the size of two matchboxes in it.

  Eve leaped from the bed, snatching it from him.

  He looked up, confused.

  “Get out,” she said.

  He stared up at her. She had never looked more beautiful. He half-expected her to transform into a panther and devour him.

  “Get out!” she screamed.

  He jumped to his feet. “You don’t think I had anything to do with her being here?”

  Eve ran to the fireplace, grabbed a poker and came after him.

&n
bsp; Jack reeled backwards, back slamming against the wall as she swung the poker at him. He ducked and the poker wedged into the wall.

  She wrenched it free, but before she could swing again, he grabbed her arm, wrestling the poker from her.

  She shoved him toward the door, screaming obscenities.

  Jack got on the other side of the door and she slammed it behind him, locking it. He stumbled back, stunned. Her curses rang in his mind and he felt dirty and sick. He stepped from the door but was jerked back by the sheet, which was caught. He tried to jerk it free but it only wedged in tighter.

  Pissed, he dropped the sheet.

  If she ain’t worried about embarrassing me, I ain’t worried about embarrassing her.

  Jack walked down the hallway, descending the staircase like a king born to knock brass nuts to bolts.

  The butler, serene as an ice cube, materialized and opened the front door for him, not even batting an eye that Jack was still naked.

  “Thanks,” Jack said.

  Jack winced as his bare feet hit the gravel driveway. Because it was a rental car, he had slipped the key under the mat, which he was relieved to see was still there. He slid into the rental car, adjusting himself carefully on the unforgiving leather seat.

  A quarter of a mile down the road, he saw Enid who, hands shoved in her pockets, was trudging up the side of the road.

  Jack pulled to a hard stop in front of her.

  She froze, like a deer ready to bolt.

  Jack popped the trunk from inside the car and said, “Get my jeans and a shirt from the trunk and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go – as long as it’s a bus stop.” Jack had recently purchased some spare clothes and, since his house was gone, he had turned the trunk of the rental car into a mish-mash of clothes and toiletry items.

  Her eyes flickered over his bare torso.

  Jack watched her in the rearview mirror as she made her way to the trunk and poked around in it.

  She approached the window and threw his “nerd pants” at him.

  He threw them back, “The jeans, or I leave your ass on this road.”

  “You don’t like it, get them yourself.” She threw the pants back at him.