I flinched.
“After I chased you, I went back to Barb’s house. She’d regained consciousness and was packing her suitcase. I bashed her in the head with a cast-iron skillet. Then I finished packing her suitcase. I cleaned up the broken lamp and put Barb in the trunk of her car and I left.”
“What if Emerson had seen you?”
“I would have killed her, too. I pulled off at a rest stop and strangled Barb. Then I headed to Sweeney. Josh and Vlado met me at the Motel 6. I put on a wig and checked in. Then we hung Barb from the shower rod. I left a note. Vlado put out pills and an empty wine bottle.”
“I never dreamed it was you.” I shook my head a little, trying to put it all together. Yes, Dot was tall and angular. Put a mask on her, and she could pass for a guy.
“Oh, buggar-bear, I couldn’t be sure what you saw.” Dot got in my face. “Then you came to Bonaventure. Josh has always hated you. He voted to kill you, but I talked him out of it. You know why? Because you were my friend. I really liked you, Teeny. So I got Vlado to put on a long blond wig and break into your house.”
“Why?”
“To shake you up. To make you run back to Charleston. But you didn’t.”
“The icing on my gown was a nice touch.”
“I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”
“So were the gardenias.”
“They came out of my backyard.”
“You don’t have to kill Son.”
“Josh would be so disappointed.” She smiled.
I began shaking all over. Son was going to die because of me.
“Poor Teeny. You look heartbroken. There’s nothing you could have done to save yourself. I was just biding my time. Getting everything set up. I lured you to the Tartan Hair Pub so you’d have straight hair. That way, it would be harder to identify your desecrated corpse. That’s why I didn’t come to your house and kill you.”
Dot shoved the Taser into her pocket and untied Son. “Josh, stop picking your nose and help me get Dr. Love in the car.”
Son’s legs wobbled as they lifted him from the chair and guided him out the kitchen door. Night air streamed in, carrying their voices. They were arguing about who to harvest first, me or Son.
I grabbed a chair leg and pulled up. Where did she keep the phone? I had to call 911. I tried to stand, but my legs buckled and I hit the floor.
Okay, Teeny. Deep breath. I rubbed my thigh, trying to get the circulation going, but it didn’t seem to help. How long before I could walk? I saw a portable phone on the desk and crawled toward it, my hair swinging forward. My brain felt muddy.
Focus, Teeny.
I grabbed the desk chair and pulled up, my arms trembling. I heard a shuffling noise and twisted around. Dot stood in the kitchen doorway, her hands jammed on her hips. Josh was right behind her. I expected her to pull out the Taser, but she just snorted.
“I’ll get her,” Josh said. He pulled me away from the chair and hoisted me into his arms.
Dot stepped over to the counter. She opened my purse and grabbed my keys. ‘I’ll pull her truck around. Meet me in the driveway.”
Josh’s clothes gave off the harsh bite of sulfuric acid. Just like the devil would smell. As he carried me outside, I repressed an urge to pinch my nostrils.
“You’re such a bitch, Teeny,” he said.
“A crazy bitch,” I agreed.
“A piece of trash.”
“A human Hefty bag.”
“You got laid by every boy but me.”
I didn’t bother to correct him. I was fighting for my life, not my honor. Over his shoulder, lightning scratched across the sky. A rainstorm was coming, but I wouldn’t live to see it.
A garden hose lay across the pavement like a serpent. Josh stepped over it and turned toward the pebble driveway. He set me on my feet. My legs buckled and pushed me against the house.
“You want it,” he said, unbuckling his belt.
Oh, god, no.
“I’m turning you on,” he said. His lips parted, and he leaned in to kiss me.
I gagged. He kissed the same way he had in high school—mouth overflowing with saliva, teeth banging against mine. I tried to rack him, but my knee wouldn’t bend.
He broke the kiss and tweaked my nipple. I squirmed away. His hand slid under my dress, beneath the pocket where the tarantula lay. I twitched all over, whether from the Taser or fear, I didn’t know. But I couldn’t stop.
“You’re shaking like a bed in a cheap motel,” he said. “Magic Fingers.”
“And you didn’t have to pay a quarter.” Damn, why had I said that?
He kissed me again. No, stop. You mustn’t. For the love of God, stop. But His eye was on the sparrow, not Teeny Templeton. It was up to me to handle this.
I dragged my mouth away. “I’m riddled with diseases,” I shouted.
“Beg for it. Come on, Teeny. Beg.”
My heart stuttered. Then I heard the whinny of Aunt Bluette’s engine. Headlights swept over Josh and me. He let me go. I slid down the bricks, wincing as they scratched my shoulders.
Dot got out of the truck, her cockatoo hair bouncing, and opened the Jag’s rear door. “Save it, Romeo,” she said. “Bring her over here.”
Josh hoisted me over his shoulder and dumped me into the backseat. Son was up front, his head tipped forward. Was he dead?
“Son?” I shouted. “Can you hear me?”
He groaned.
“Pay attention to me.” Josh squeezed my breasts.
I opened my mouth to scream. Instead, I vomited. Frothy lumps hit his face, stinking of tequila. He slapped my ear hard, and I went flying across the seat. The back of my head banged against the other door.
Dot pulled him out of the car. “Don’t hit her. The tissue bank won’t accept bruised skin.”
Josh swiped his hand over his face. “She puked on me.”
She shoved him toward the house. “Turn on the faucet and clean up.”
She climbed into the backseat and shone a penlight in my face. “Good, he didn’t break the skin.”
I put up my hand, blocking the glare. “How did you get mixed up in black market organs?”
She aimed the penlight at her palm; her flesh turned red and iridescent. “I used to work for a tissue bank. I flew around the country visiting hospitals. My job was to find skin donors. I could buy a whole cadaver for $6,000. But two corneas sell for $15,000. Bones in a spinal column sell for $1000. Big money in spare parts. I came back to Bonaventure and had a little chat with Josh.”
“Why him?”
“The best chop shops need a crooked funeral home director. And Josh isn’t exactly a saint. He was still in a wheelchair, but I found out that he was faking it.”
“How did you know?”
“I saw mud on his shoes.”
“So you blackmailed him?”
“Heavens no. I seduced him. Then I confronted him. I had him wrapped around my little toe. He liked the idea of making money, but he wanted to be paralyzed for a while longer—it was the first time in his life that people treated him nice. We made a great team.”
“Who else is working for you?” I asked.
“No one you’d know.” She pinched my cheek. “Your skin is soft as a peach.”
I jerked away. “Why didn’t you put Kendall’s body in the lake?”
“Vlado deviated from the plan.” She looped the chain around my ankle. “You’ve done nothing with your life, Teeny. Now you have a chance to help many people with your spare parts. I wish I could say the same for your bulldog. We’re just going to shoot him.”
I raised up. “No, leave him alone.”
She pushed me down. “Coop will wonder why you left that stupid dog. That makes Sir a loose end.”
My vision blurred. “You can kill me, but you’ll still be crazy.”
“And rich.” She yanked off my necklace and slid Minnie’s ring on her finger. “A perfect fit.”
“If you get near Coop, I’ll haunt your ass.�
�
“Normally I like three in a bed. But not this time. Coop only has eyes for you.” Dot tweaked my nose. “Or should I say had? He’ll get over you. And he’ll marry a pretty brunette and have children. Won’t that be nice?”
She scooted out of the backseat and hollered at Josh. He stepped out of the shadows, the front of his shirt damp and transparent, showing a sunken-in chest.
“Drive straight to the lab,” she said. “I’ll be right behind you in Teeny’s junker.”
“What about Son’s car?” Josh waved at the Jaguar.
“I’ve taken care of everything. A guy is waiting at the old sawmill with an eighteen-wheeler. The vehicles will be halfway to Mexico by tomorrow.” Dot got in Josh’s face. They were the same height, tall and rangy. “Make sure the bodies don’t float up this time. Because I love my house. I love my job. I don’t want to leave the country because you’re sloppy.”
“I have to leave,” he said. “That’s not fair.”
“But you’ve still got a pulse. You can go somewhere else and start over. Just make sure the bodies stay in the water.”
Concrete blocks. Ropes. Chains. Taser. They were going to remove our organs and sink us in Lake Bonaventure.
thirty-four
The car dipped to one side as Josh climbed into the driver’s seat. The dome light pooled around me and hit the floorboard, washing over concrete blocks, chains, pliers, and a saw.
Josh put on a Braves hat that looked suspiciously like the one I’d lost on Sullivan’s Island. He started the engine, and the dome light faded. I could hear Aunt Bluette’s truck revving behind the Jag.
Son yawned, then sat up. “What the hell—”
Josh slugged him. Son crashed sideways and his head slammed against the window. The Jaguar’s tires made a hissing noise as it sped down the driveway.
I mustered up my courage and sat up. “Josh? Why’d you kill your cosmetologist?”
“Opal? She asked too many questions.”
“Who’d you get to creep around my house last night?”
“That was me. I wore a wig.” Josh snorted. “Dot wanted you to think that Son was stalking you. But your fan club chased me off. So we had to lure you here.”
“The Charleston police are looking for a man with blond hair. A witness saw him in a bar, talking to Barb. Was that you? Or Vlado?”
“Dot met Barb at Poe’s. It was a last-ditch effort to get Barb to come back to us.” He squinted into the rear view mirror. “God, you’re a motor-mouth. If you don’t hush, I’ll stop the car and shoot you. And I really don’t want to do that. I want you to be alive when I rape you.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God. Not that. I shook so hard, the chains made a singing noise.
Josh turned on the radio. Snippets of music ran together as he spun the dial. He stopped on a sports station, and I heard the crack of a baseball, the roar of a crowd, then he spun the dial again and landed on WAEV from Savannah. Over the static, the Black Ghosts sang “Full Moon.”
“You like shitty music, don’t you, Teeny? Enjoy it while you can.”
The car turned left onto Willow Street, a dark, two-lane road that led to a county highway—the road to Sweeney. Was the new chop shop located there?
Behind us, the truck’s headlights swept through the rear window. Shadows skated over the floorboard. I lunged for the pliers. The Jaguar made a sharp left turn, and the pliers slipped under the front seat.
If I didn’t bash Josh in the head before we reached the lab, Son and I would die. My bulldog would die. I didn’t have a guarantee that Coop and Red would survive. If they started poking around, Dot would put them into the lake. Emerson would go to that school in Alabama and she’d never know how it felt to be loved.
I glanced around for another weapon. I tried to lift a concrete block, but I was still shaky and couldn’t move it. I slumped against the back seat, feeling utterly defeated. Tonight, Son and I would be on the bottom of the lake, and maybe our organs would help someone; but the money was going to the Dot Agnew Foundation. She would go home, turn on her Wolf range, and heat a pot of soup. More patients would die at Bonaventure Regional because she needed to finish decorating her house. A cornea would buy new dining room furniture. A tendon would buy an oil painting. How many cadavers would buy a $2,000,000 beachfront condominium on St. Simon’s Island?
I pulled myself up and grasped the back of Josh’s seat, trying to crouch low. If he saw me in the rearview mirror, he’d shoot me. Straight ahead, through the windshield, a string of headlights came toward the Jaguar.
Witnesses.
I could beat on the side window and hope the driver saw me. But those lights were so far away. Josh turned on his blinker and turned down a rough-paved road. I bolted forward, grabbed his ears, and twisted as hard as I could.
“Let go!” His fist crashed into my forehead. The blow knocked me into the backseat. I sat there, too dazed to move. I was faintly aware of something moving in my pocket, a skitter-scratch. I opened the pocket, and the tarantula crawled onto the back of my hand. Maybe I should let it bite me, but no, Miss Uma had said tarantula bites weren’t deadly.
Josh had been bitten by one of her pets. I prayed he still harbored a fear of arachnoids.
Again, I raised up, my eyes filling, and moved my outstretched hand toward Josh. “Oh, my god,” I said. “There’s tarantulas in this car. They’re crawling everywhere.”
“Yeah, right.” Josh snorted.
I thrust my hand in front of him. He screamed. I flung the tarantula in his lap. His hands lifted from the steering wheel, and he brushed between his legs. The Jag veered off the road. I leaned over his shoulder and stretched out my arm toward the steering wheel. Just a little closer. One more inch.
The tires bounced into a hole. Branches and saplings beat against the fender. Straight ahead, the headlights picked out bark and pine boughs.
The Jaguar slammed into a tree. I heard the wrench of metal. Needles pinged against the hood. Black air rushed in around me and I was flying.
* * *
I came to in the backseat. A horn blared and blared. I smelled smoke and I sat up. Pain lanced through my thigh. Josh lay over the steering wheel. Above him, the windshield was cracked, streaked with red. Steam hissed from the crumpled hood and scattered into the branches.
Son was sprawled against the door. He moaned, and blood streamed out of his mouth.
“Son Finnegan, don’t you die on me.” My fingers dug into the back of his seat. I pulled myself close to him.
“I’m hurt, Boots.” He moaned again.
“Hold on.” I couldn’t help him from this angle, so I yanked open the back door and crawled into the dark weeds. A blast of humid air rushed over my face. As I inched forward, something jerked me back. I spun around, expecting to see Josh’s hand. But it was just the chain, looped tightly around my ankle.
Trying not to panic, I grabbed the concrete block. It felt light as a biscuit. I heaved it out of the car. A warm tickle ran down my knee, and I yanked up my dress. A diagonal gash ran across my leg, in the fleshy part of my left thigh. The wound wasn’t spurting. Just a deep, oozing wound.
I crept over to Son’s door, pulling the concrete block with me. From the road, headlights speared through the trees and washed into the gully. Dot had found us.
I flung open Son’s door. The dome light blinked on. I lifted his face. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth. But he was breathing. Bits of safety glass were scattered in his hair, and I brushed them out.
“Hurts so bad,” he whispered.
I looked at Josh. His chest wasn’t moving I leaned across the seat and felt his wrist. No pulse. I slid my hand into his nearest pocket and searched for the gun. Empty. I started to check his other pocket when flames spiked from the hood, sending up a dazzle of orange sparks. Smoke rolled up from the floorboard. Oh, Lord. Would the engine blow up? Where was the spider? And where was Dot? She’d been right behind us.
I scooted back to Son. “Put your arms around
me.”
“Can’t.” His shoe scooted over the floorboard. “My gut hurts.”
“Son, listen to me. I know you’re in pain. But the car’s on fire. Come on, get out. Just lean on me. I’ll help you.”
More cinders spiraled up into the darkness. A circle of heat pushed against me, and I smelled burnt rubber. Son slid his arms around my neck. He didn’t feel that heavy. Or maybe I had super-human strength. I pulled him out of the car, into the grass, dragging that damn block behind me.
From the road, I heard a commotion. Voices. Spangled lights.
“Holy shit,” a man cried.
I led Son into the tall weeds and propped him against a tree. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’m going back for that tarantula.”
Son keeled over, thumping against the ground. He dragged me with him, and I fell hard on my butt. I tried to stand. The ground rose up and folded itself around me.
A man in a Coors hat tried to pull Son from my arms. A flashlight moved over my skirt. It was dark red and sticky, warm as a wet washrag. Someone brought a fire extinguisher and aimed it at the car. Sirens drilled through the night, a black sound that chipped against my ears.
Hands lifted me up. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. And don’t hurt my spider. He’s one heck of an arachnid.
thirty-five
Noises rushed around me. Beeping. Rhythmic clicks. The patter of water. I was lost in a forest, soon to be devoured by beetles. A disembodied voice spiraled down from the ceiling, beseeching Elena Samuels to call the operator.
Was I trapped in a department store?
The water shut off. Footsteps. A cool hand on my cheek. Two brown eyes loomed above me. “Miss Templeton, you’ve been in a wreck. How much alcohol did you drink?”
What wreck? What alcohol? I wasn’t much of a drinker. “Where am I? What day is it?”
“You’re in the hospital. It’s August nineteenth. Tuesday night.”
Hospital? This was Dot’s killing ground. I couldn’t stay here. I tried to sit up, but my head wouldn’t leave the pillow. I felt swimmy-headed, and my ears were ringing.
“Don’t move, Miss Templeton.” She wore little white wings on top of her head. A nurse or an angel? Her voice echoed, as if it came from the bottom of hell, a hot place with rock salt and empty margarita glasses. What was the opposite of an angel? A demon?
A Teeny Bit of Trouble Page 30