“Maybe.” She smiled seductively.
“Come here, Baby.”
She walked around to him.
He reached out and grabbed her, and she started kissing him.
Clearly, he was surprised that she had initiated the kiss.
Her left hand slid down to his butt and began to rub it.
He got more excited.
Then she worked her hand around to the front and began to explore. She could tell he was on the verge of losing his mind as she brought her right hand around, and unzipped his pants and put her hand inside. She also felt the remote in his pocket.
As she teased him with the super-slow progression of her right hand into his boxers, she slipped her left hand into his pocket and carefully extracted the remote with two fingers. He didn’t even notice.
He was just about to throw her onto the bed and rip off her clothes when her knee slammed into his crotch like a sledgehammer. He fell to the floor, groaning in pain.
She ran out of the room to the front door. In five seconds, she would be too far away to catch. She would call the police. They would throw him in jail and the bomb squad would get this horrible thing off her wrist.
But then she realized the deadbolt was locked. Where was the key? She didn’t have time to look.
Maybe she could get out through the garage. She turned to run.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Larry was crouched over in the bedroom doorway holding a pistol.
So close, she thought. Where did he get that gun?
Now she would pay for trying to escape. He would be judge and jury.
So, would she be sentenced to death…or worse?
20 - ROOM FOR THREE
“Greg, did you ever eat lunch?” said Sandy.
“Yeah. I drove through McDonalds.”
“We did Burger King.”
Greg opened the door.
“This is nice room,” said Rebecca.
It was 3:45 PM. They had driven all over The Woodlands in their two cars, checking the parking lots of apartment complexes for the dark green Jaguar. Sandy and Rebecca had convinced Greg that they all needed to stop and get some rest. So, they got a room at LaQuinta Inn.
“I don’t know about this,” said Greg. “I feel like we need to keep working at it.”
“But we’re all so tired we can’t strink thaight any more. I mean, think straight,” said Rebecca.
Greg was too tired to laugh. “I guess you’re right.” He sat down on one of the beds. “Well, I’ll lay down for a few minutes, but I doubt I’ll sleep.”
“That’s okay,” said Sandy. “Just try to relax for a while. You can have that bed to yourself. Rebecca and I will take this one.”
“Oh, really?” she said. “Rebecca and I?”
Sandy stammered. “Well, I mean if it’s okay with you.”
“As long as you don’t touch me.”
“Oh, sure. No problem.” He wanted to touch her. He wanted to touch her all over—but he didn’t want a bloody nose.
After Sandy had turned off the lamp, the room was black, except for the faint rectangular glow outlining the heavy drapes.
**********
“What’s this?”
“I wanted to do something special tonight,” said Crow.
“Why?” Chaucey had expected to plop down on the couch with a paper plate of Domino’s pizza and watch a movie. The usual.
“Don’t you remember? It’s our anniversary.”
Chaucey gave him a blank stare.
“We met one year ago tonight. And you invited me over to your apartment for pizza.”
“Oh, okay. Has it already been a year?”
“Sure has.” He pulled out the chair for her. “Please have a seat, Young Lady.”
Young lady? He’s only two years older than me, she thought. Intellectually, she was much older than him. But that was okay. She enjoyed his company. “So, what does the chef recommend for this evening?”
“Huh? Oh, the chef recommends homemade vegetable pizza, Caesar salad, and garlic bread.”
“Wow, you made all that for little ole me?”
“Yes, I did—because you’re so special. And because I happen to know that vegetable pizza is your favorite.”
“So, what kind of vegetables did you put on it?”
“All your favorites: mushrooms, green peppers, onions, black olives…”
“Sounds great.”
“…and carrots, cucumbers, bananas, apple sauce, mustard—“
“—you’re kidding, right?”
Crow suddenly looked worried. Then his lower lip began to quiver and he looked like he was about to cry.
“I’m sorry. It’s okay, Crow—it’ll be fine.”
His sad face morphed into a big grin. “I’m kidding. What do you think I am—an idiot?”
No, she didn’t think he was an idiot. Of course not. She laughed. “Very funny. I’m gonna get you for that.”
Crow brought the pizza to the table.
“Looks delicious.”
“Just like you.” He gazed into her eyes.
Even after a year, she wasn’t quite sure how to take those kind of remarks. But she knew he wasn’t trying to be crude—sometimes it just came out that way. “How was work?”
“Fine. The store’s on track for a record profit this year.”
“Really? Is that what your dad told you?”
“No. That’s what I told him. I study the books every day, you know. And I’m getting pretty good at understanding them.”
They ate in silence for a few seconds.
Crow suddenly got excited. “Oh, and I caught a robber.”
“A robber? Somebody tried to rob the grocery store?”
“Yep. It was a young guy—about 20. He had stuffed four DVDs in his shirt. I saw him doing it. And I hoped he’d change his mind and put them back—but he didn’t.”
“So, you stopped him as he was going out the door?”
“No. I had been keeping an eye on him. But then a lady asked me where the flax seed was, so I was telling her it was on aisle eight. And then she wanted to know—“
“—so, what happened?”
“Well, I looked up and he was gone. He was already in the parking lot. So, I ran out, and I saw him at his pickup, fumbling with his keys, trying to get the door unlocked. I think he got nervous ‘cause he saw me running at him. I was running as fast as I could.”
“So, you got there before he could get the door open?”
“Not quite. He got it open, and got halfway in. And that’s when I slammed into his door at full speed.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. He told the police I nearly cut him in half.”
She started laughing.
“But that was a lie. He was definitely in one piece. He was just real sore.”
“You’re a hero, Crow.”
“Nah. Just doing my job. What about you? Anything exciting happen today?”
“No. Just the usual. Although, there was one guy who really got me ticked off. He made me so mad I just wanted to tear off his head and stuff it up his butt.”
Crow started laughing loudly. He couldn’t help it—he was a loud laugher. “I’m sure he deserved it.” He wondered which part would hurt worse—the tearing off or the stuffing up? He laughed even louder.
“The jerk wanted me to do his first job free so he could evaluate my skills.”
“Doesn’t he know you’re the best?”
“That didn’t matter. He just wanted to con me into working for free.”
“But that boat don’t fly. Right, Chaucey?”
“Yeah. That boat don’t float.”
Crow took a bite of pizza and thought about how beautiful Chaucey was—even when she was mad.
When they had finished eating, she helped him clear the table and wash the dishes.
“Thanks for your help, Chaucey.”
“No problem. Now let’s get the movie going.”
“Okay.”
As she turned to walk toward the couch, he was right behind her. He couldn’t resist. He sniffed her hair.
She spun around as though a jewel thief had robbed her of a priceless necklace.
“What are you doing? Did you just sniff my hair?”
He hesitated. “Yes. Chaucey, I need to tell you something.”
“No, no. Don’t.”
“I’m in love with you.” He wished he hadn’t blurted it out. He had wanted it to be romantic.
“No. I can’t do this, Crow.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve got to go.” She hurried out the door, and across to her apartment.
He wanted to run after her, but he knew it would only make things worse. Had he just ruined everything? He wanted her to be his girlfriend. But he didn’t want to destroy their friendship.
Crow had finally reached out for her love. But he had squeezed it too hard in his big, strong, clumsy hands. He hated himself for upsetting her.
**********
Sandy was enjoying his nap so much he didn’t want to wake up. He was on his side, and his back was cool. But his front was cozy warm, against Rebecca. What an amazing dream. Her firm butt felt wonderful nestled in his lap. And the feeling was growing stronger by the second. His right arm was wrapped around her, his hand gently cupping her right breast.
He began to massage her nipple with his thumb. She moaned ever so faintly and arched her back slightly, forcing her rear end tighter against him. He responded by pushing a little harder against her.
It was unquestionably his best dream ever. And it seemed so real.
There’s something about taking a nap in the middle of the day when you’re dead tired. He could remember a summer camping trip at the lake. That first day, after swimming all morning and most of the afternoon, he took a nap before dinner. He dreamed he was still in the water, floating around and playing games with bright-colored fish. Thank goodness his mom woke him up when she did. He was just about to pee in his pants.
How long would this dream last? And how far would it go? He couldn’t wait to find out. Then he heard Greg snore. Poor guy, he thought. But why was he hearing Greg snoring? This was his sex dream—he didn’t want Greg interrupting it.
But what if it wasn’t a dream? What if he really was spooning Rebecca? What if he really was caressing her breast?
She twitched, and he realized—it was not a dream. He was a dead man. He released her breast and pulled his arm back.
Rebecca sat up.
Sandy was frozen in the dark. He couldn’t see anything. At any moment her fist would be launched toward his head or crotch. And he’d never see it coming. But he deserved whatever he got. He had gone way over the line. But, in all fairness, he had thought he was dreaming. Would she buy that? Doubtful.
“It’s nighttime—almost seven o’clock,” she said. “We’d better get up.”
Is that it? Sandy wondered. Or is she just waiting for the right moment? He pictured the three of them at a nice restaurant, talking and eating, when suddenly she would pick up her steak knife and stab him right through the heart, and then calmly and casually say, “I warned you.”
Or maybe she didn’t even know what he had done. Maybe she had slept through it. Or…maybe she liked it.
21 - READING THE BOOK
“We should check for another chapter.” Greg was sitting on the side of the bed, still groggy from the three hour nap.
“I’m on it.” Rebecca already had her laptop open at the table.
Sandy had not bothered to sit up yet. “Anybody hungry?”
“I thought for sure we’d find his car if we checked all the apartments,” said Greg.
“Well, they’ve got some fancy ones,” said Sandy. “Must be nothing but rich people living around here. One place even had garages. At first we wondered where all the cars were.”
“Yeah, I ran across one of those, too,” said Greg. “Did you go into the office and ask if they had any new tenants?”
“Yeah. They had a woman who moved in this morning, so I figured it couldn’t be them.”
“But what if he made Cynthia do it? You should have gone to the apartment and checked it out.”
“Oh, we did.” He nodded at Rebecca. “Miss Private Eye insisted.”
She didn’t even look up from the computer. “I don’t take anything for granted.”
“So, we met the woman and her five cats,” said Sandy.
“Single, huh?” said Greg.
“Oh yeah,” said Sandy.
“No new chapter,” said Rebecca. “But we’ve got more comments. This Chaucey woman is still after him.”
“She’s gonna be plenty sorry if she ever catches him,” said Sandy.
“He’s got a couple of lines of that Old English junk we saw in his last comment. Then he’s got this weird poem.”
Such a rare treat, I dare not waste it:
From yonder tree a delicious cherry.
Come forth and meet in the woods to taste it;
If you believe, make it one for three.
“The guy is nuts,” said Sandy. “But he thinks he’s some great poet.”
“Most great poets are nuts,” said Rebecca. “Actually, most of them are dead.”
“But maybe it means something,” said Greg.
“So?” Sandy yawned.
“There might be some clues in there somewhere,” said Greg. “He does mention woods in the poem. Hopefully that means they are here in The Woodlands.”
“Where? We’ve already checked all the apartments,” said Sandy.
“We could try the hotels.”
“Yeah, but in the book he said he rented an apartment,” said Sandy.
“Oh, this is interesting,” said Rebecca.
“What?” said Greg.
“I googled a line from this Old English stuff. It’s not Old English—it’s Middle English.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” said Sandy sarcastically.
Rebecca ignored him. “It’s from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.”
“And her name is Chaucey,” said Greg.
Sandy sat up. “Okay, that’s pretty weird—but I don’t see how it helps us.”
“Let’s see…that particular passage is from The Franklin’s Tale: a feast in the garden.”
“Wait,” said Greg. “Now we’re getting somewhere—I think. In Larry’s poem, he talked about meeting in the woods. The woods…a feast in the garden…a garden feast woods…a feast in the garden woods…”
“Oh, wow,” said Sandy. “You’re right, Buddy. Now we know their exact location. They’re out in the garden woods having a feast. And, of course, we know from the poem that they’re feasting on a single cherry. Yum—delicious.”
“Yeah, that’s it, I think,” said Rebecca. “And Cynthia is the cherry.”
“What?” said Sandy. “I was joking.”
“And he wants Chaucey to join them, to share the cherry,” said Greg. “He wants to have a threesome. That stinking pervert!”
“Garden woods—weren’t there some apartments with that name?” said Rebecca.
Greg reached into his pocket and pulled out his crumpled list. “Yes. Gardenwoods Luxury Apartments. I remember that place. It was the one with the garages.”
“But you went into the office and checked, right?” said Rebecca.
“Yeah. And there was a guy who moved in this morning. But the lady said he was foreign. She could barely understand him. She thought he was from India or Pakistan.”
“What was his name? Did you write it down?” said Rebecca.
“No, but it was…Reebo…or Reelo…or—“
“Reevo?” said Rebecca.
“Yeah, that’s it—Reevo.”
“Do you remember the first name?” said Rebecca.
“Uh…”
“Was it Enim?” said Rebecca.
“Yes—I think it was,” said Greg.
“How in the world did you know that?” said Sandy.
&nb
sp; “Think about it,” said Rebecca. “Enim Revo. Now turn it around backwards.”
Greg thought for a few seconds. “Mine…over.”
“Good. Now swap the two words so that everything is backwards,” she said.
“Over mine,” said Sandy.
“Get it?” said Rebecca. “Over mine…Undermine?”
“Barry Undermine,” said Greg.
“This guy really loves to mess with your head,” said Sandy. “He thinks he’s smarter than everybody else.”
“And so does Chaucey,” said Greg. “They think they’re so smart that they can say whatever they want because we dummies don’t have the intelligence to decipher it.”
“But we did. And now we know everything but the apartment number,” said Sandy.
“Hold on,” said Rebecca. “I think he might have even given us that. He had to tell Chaucey so she could join him, right? Listen to the last line of his poem.”
If you believe, make it one for three.
“We thought he was referring to a threesome, and maybe he is,” she said. “But it could have a double meaning.”
“Make it one for three…” said Greg. “Make it 1-4-3. He gave her the apartment number: 143!”
“Right,” said Rebecca.
Sandy jumped up. “Let’s go get him!”
**********
They had decided to take one car—Greg’s red 1965 Pontiac Bonneville convertible. Sandy had suggested Rebecca ride in front with Greg. But he wished the Bonneville didn’t have bucket seats. He would have preferred sitting up front, with her in the middle. Although, if his arm or leg had touched hers, he might have gotten a hard elbow to the nose. Or maybe she would have grabbed his head in both hands and planted a huge kiss on him.
“Why didn’t he just get a hotel room instead of an apartment?” said Sandy. “I mean—what’s he using for furniture?”
“Gotta be a furnished apartment,” said Rebecca. “They’re great for business people that need to hang around for a month or two—doing consulting or whatever.”
“So, what is he thinking—that he’s going to set up housekeeping with Cynthia?” said Sandy. “Surely he didn’t think he could kidnap her and then make her want to be his live-in girlfriend or wife?”
“He’s a wacko,” said Greg. “How knows what he’s thinking.”
Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set Page 49