The Devil You Know

by Mary Monroe

  “What about now? Do you still have that fear?”

  “Not at all. I realized it was ruining my social life. After a few months, I smelled like garlic even without the necklace. Long, hot baths with industrial strength soap and the strongest aftershave I could find couldn’t mask the unholy stench of garlic. Because of that, girls lost interest in me after the second or third date.”

  “Do you still sleep with garlic around your neck?”

  “No, and I haven’t done so in twenty years.”

  “How did you get over your fear?”

  “One night after downing enough beer to fill a large bucket, I slept in such a clumsy position the damn necklace got tangled and almost strangled me. I never wore it again. To my surprise and relief, from that day on I was no longer afraid of vampires. Being strangled to death was a lot more frightening—especially accidentally by a necklace.”

  “Or strangled any other way,” I said, feeling my own neck.

  Evan put the portrait back into the box and returned it to the closet. “If you would still like me to paint your picture, in a different color outfit, just let me know.”

  “I’ll do that,” I said. “And I’m really sorry for ruining things,” I mumbled.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Evan exhaled and folded his arms. There was a smile on his face, so I knew he wasn’t mad. He licked his lips, snapped his fingers, and widened his eyes, as if a great idea had suddenly come to him. “Well, since you’re already here and we had planned to spend a couple of hours together, are you still up to having a little fun today?”

  I answered with a smile.

  After two glasses of champagne, we got cozy in the bed.

  Evan was a fantastic lover, but because of that picture, I was so flustered and distracted, I didn’t enjoy the experience at all.

  Chapter 19

  Calvin

  IT WAS HARD NOT TO THINK ABOUT THE INCIDENT IN VEGAS WITH the Korean hooker. My thoughts ran from one extreme to the other. One minute it didn’t seem like such a big deal, the next minute it did. With these thoughts swirling around in my head, I was preoccupied for the next couple of days. Every crazy thought I could imagine haunted me. First I was worried about the cops finding Hyeon’s DNA in the car I had rented, but I didn’t worry about that long when I realized what a far-fetched notion it was. With the thousands of people renting cars in Vegas, what was the chance of the cops finding out that Hyeon had been in the car I’d driven on the same night she’d been attacked? I had not bothered to wipe her fingerprints off the spots she’d touched, because as far as the cops were concerned, she could have been in that car with one of her previous tricks since she’d been working the streets. When I realized how unlikely it was that I’d ever be linked to Hyeon, I stopped spending so much time thinking about it. But I couldn’t put it completely out of my mind until I was sure I was out of the woods.

  * * *

  On Thursday, four days after Sylvia and I returned to San Jose, I decided to go back to work, even though my supervisor had told me I could take off two more days. I hoped the distraction would help clear my head and squash the little bit of fear I felt about my latest crime. And it did.

  I drove south from Sacramento for about four hours before I decided to pull into a truck stop to gas up, use the restroom, and pick up a snack. It was nine p.m., and I was on my way to a fitness center in La Jolla to deliver some state-of-the-art gym equipment. While I sat in the cab of my rig munching on a ham sandwich, a hitchhiker lugging a bulging backpack approached me. She was a cute, skinny blonde who looked to be in her early thirties. “You going South?” she asked in a flat tone.

  I took my time answering. I swallowed the last bite of my sandwich first. “I’m going to La Jolla,” I grunted.

  “Can I hitch a ride as far as Fresno?”

  I didn’t like the deadpan expression on her face, her dry tone, or her Southern accent. As a matter of fact, I didn’t like her. But because it was the day after April Fool’s Day and I had laughed at some of the pranks a few of my coworkers had pulled, I was still in a fairly good mood, so I decided to be cordial. “Get in.”

  “I’m Melanie,” she said.

  “I’m James.”

  “Nice to meet you, James. Um . . . no offense, but I was afraid to ask a black man for a ride,” she told me less than a minute after she’d crawled into my cab and plopped her flat ass down so close to me that her knee touched mine.

  “Then why did you?” I asked gruffly. I snorted and moved my knee away from hers. She wore a pair of dingy brown jeans and a white T-shirt. The weather was fairly cool, so I was surprised she didn’t have on a jacket or a sweater. “I’m sure you can hitch a ride with one of the white truckers.”

  “Well, I’m in a hurry and you’re the only one sitting out here alone. Today is payday for some of the truckers, so it’s a real busy night for the lot lizards. The hookers who work these places can get real mean if you interfere with their business.”

  “So I take it you’re not a hooker?”

  “Hell no! I ain’t never sold my tail and never will. I’m just down on my luck and needed to get out of town for a while. Me and my husband just moved out here two months ago from West Virginia, and I can’t stand this place. I told him I was going back home, with or without him. So I’m on my own now. My sister lives in Fresno, so I’m going to stay with her until I scrape up enough for a plane ticket back to West Virginia. My husband gambled my whole paycheck away yesterday, so I didn’t have enough money for a bus ticket.” Melanie paused, and after giving me a critical look, she continued. “No offense again, but even if I was a hooker, I couldn’t see myself having sex with a black man.”

  “To each his own,” I said with a shrug.

  “Do you mind if I smoke a joint?”

  “Yes, I do. If I get stopped by a highway patrolman for some reason and he smells that shit, I could lose my job and get arrested.”

  “Oh well. Just thought I’d ask. I haven’t been high all week and it’s beginning to get to me.” I glanced to the right and was surprised to see a grin on Melanie’s face. “Anyway, James, I don’t have anything against black folks, or any other people of color. I just don’t believe in race mixing. It causes all kinds of problems. One of my cousins in San Francisco had a baby by a Chinese man, and that little boy is the most confused child I know. Not to mention his weird looks. Know what I mean?”

  I nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Thanks for being so up-front and honest. Just so you know, I would never have sex with a white woman. No offense.”

  Melanie seemed surprised to hear such a statement, especially with so much emphasis put on the word never. “Oh. Well, now that we got that out of the way, we don’t have to discuss it again. If you want something for giving me a ride, I’d be happy to treat you to a meal when you make the next stop. It has to be a real cheap meal though.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said, looking at my watch. “I have to get going, so if you want to change your mind about riding with a black man, you need to do it now.”

  Melanie rolled her eyes and let out a loud breath. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” I was surprised to see a smile on her narrow face. “So you wouldn’t have sex with a white chick, huh?”

  “Only if I didn’t have a choice.” I turned on my motor and eased back out onto the freeway.

  “Is it because you don’t think we’re pretty or sexy enough? Or, are you . . . a racist?”

  “That’s not it. I’ve seen a lot of sexy white women, and I have several white friends. I’m just not attracted to white women.”

  “I bet if you ran into the right one, you’d change your tune.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe I would. And if you ran into the right black man, you would too.”

  We laughed at the same time.

  “You seem like an interesting man, so I don’t think you’ll bore me along the way. I enjoy talking with you, so I’m glad I caught a ride with you.” Melanie paused and stared at the
side of my face. “I don’t care if you are black. You look pretty safe.”

  If this racist bitch didn’t have it coming, I didn’t know who did.

  I enjoyed chatting with Melanie for the next thirty miles. She was actually more intelligent than she looked. “I voted for Obama.” After a heavy sigh, she added, “But only because my old man made me.”

  When we approached a sign announcing the next rest stop, she asked me to take a break so she could use the restroom and pick up something to drink.

  I gassed up my rig, took a bathroom break, and purchased a bottle of water. When I returned to my rig, Melanie had already popped open a can of beer. “Since you won’t let me smoke no weed, this beer will give me a buzz so I can sleep better.”

  After she had guzzled her fourth can of Budweiser, she dozed off. About twenty miles down the road, her head wobbled and ended up on my shoulder. It stayed there until she woke up fifteen minutes later. When she reached over and started caressing the side of my face, I assumed she was tipsy, disoriented, or dreaming. “You sure have some nice smooth skin.”

  “You mean for a black man?” I teased.

  “Oh, stop being such a crybaby. You’re making something out of nothing! Why is it you people always have to play the race card?”

  “Baby, you dealt the first hand.”

  “If I ever do make it with a black man, I hope he’s as handsome and nice as you.”

  “I hope he is too.” I snickered. I was glad when she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she dozed off again. I let her snooze with her head on my shoulder until we reached a spot that I had become familiar with a few years ago. I looked in my rearview mirror to make sure no vehicles were behind me. The coast was clear, so I stopped and turned off my motor. This was the same wooded, deserted stretch where I had dumped a Paris Hilton clone and another bitch on previous runs. I wondered if their remains had ever been discovered. With all the coyotes and other creatures in the area, it was unlikely.

  When my hands went around Melanie’s throat and started squeezing, her eyes flew open. “Huh? Mister, what the fuck are you doing? You must be out of your fucking mind!” she exploded. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and she was trembling like a leaf in a windstorm. Her voice dropped to a whimper. “You . . . you don’t have to force me! You can do whatever you want for free!”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing, bitch!” I growled as I squeezed her throat harder.

  “Oh God!” she screamed. And then she started kicking the dashboard and clawing the sides of my arms. I was glad I had on a thick shirt and a jacket to keep my DNA from getting underneath her fingernails. Her last words were, “You can fuck me all night if you want to! You don’t even have to pay me a plugged nickel!”

  “Me fuck you? Ha! No offense, Melanie, but I would never have sex with a white chick.”

  She was still kicking and clawing. I squeezed harder so she couldn’t say another word. All she could do was gasp for air as she prepared to meet her maker.

  I could not slip up the way I had in Vegas. I Googled several times each day to follow up on that incident. As of last night, the hooker had not been able to recall anything more than what she had already told the cops. When I checked again this morning, the report was that one of her concerned relatives had come over from Korea and talked the little whore into going back to live with her. Case closed. I was out of the woods.

  I had to make sure Melanie was dead. I twisted her neck until her head was on backward.

  Chapter 20

  Joan

  LOLA DIDN’T RESPOND TO THE TEXT I SENT HER TUESDAY MORNING inviting her to have lunch with me. I showed up at her work a few minutes before noon anyway. I needed to pick up milk and bread, so I had two reasons to go to Cottright’s, the mom-and-pop grocery store where Lola had been working as a cashier since we got out of high school.

  It was a warm day, so I wore a tank top and a pair of skinny jeans I had purchased a few days ago. I had to park at a meter three blocks away, but I didn’t mind. Since I hadn’t worked out in a while, I needed the exercise. Besides that, every man I passed stared at me, smiling and flirting. I enjoyed the attention and it felt good to know that I was still a very attractive woman. Especially after Reed’s recent complaint about me “losing” my shape.

  Lola was happy to see me.

  “When did you start reading minds?” she asked when I approached her counter. I was glad the store was fairly empty. Even so, old man Cottright peeped from behind a potato chip rack and gave me a dirty look. “I was hoping you’d call or come by,” Lola added. “I really need to talk.”

  “I need to talk too. Can we have lunch?”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t cashed that check you gave me and I’m down to my last few bucks until payday, so we’ll have to go someplace real cheap.”

  I shook my head. “It’s on me,” I said, holding up my hand. “I owe you a lunch, remember?”

  We walked to Jenny’s Kitchen, a popular soup and sandwich establishment two blocks away. It was one of the places we patronized so often, the waitress didn’t even bother to give us menus. We always ordered the same thing: ham and cheese on rye bread, potato salad, and diet lemonade. There were several other businesses and a junior high school in the vicinity, so there was always a crowd for lunch. The only available seats were at the counter, and we grabbed them right away.

  “How was your date on Sunday?” I asked after the server had taken our orders.

  “He was nice enough, I guess, but I won’t be seeing him again.”

  “Uh-oh. What was wrong with him?”

  “Nothing was wrong with him. He wasn’t bad looking, and he was a pretty good lover, I guess.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What’s up with this ‘I guess’ shit? And what about the free painting he promised to do of you? The one you were so anxious to get your hands on.”

  Lola blinked and gave me a weary look. “He painted me wearing a yellow dress.”

  I knew all about Lola’s fear and had advised her to get professional help. So far she had not taken my advice. I had quite a few yellow outfits in my huge closet, but out of respect for her, I never wore any of them when we were together.

  “What did you do when you saw the picture?”

  “I freaked out, and it almost scared poor HotLips to death.” Lola let out a dry laugh. “I told him why I never wore anything yellow, and he was very sympathetic and understanding. The painting was very nice, but I refused to accept it. I even offered to leave his room right away to give him enough time to hook up with another date. He wanted me to stay.”

  “Hmmm. From that dreamy-eyed look on your face now, I have a feeling he made it worth your while.”

  “He did, but like I just said, I’m not going to see him again.”

  “Why don’t you ask him to do another portrait of you in a different color outfit?”

  “He asked if I wanted him to do another one, but I told him I didn’t.” Lola paused and gave me a hopeless look. “Every time I go on a date with a happily married man like Evan, it just reminds me how anxious I am to get married and have a family.”

  I shook my head and let out a mighty sigh. “What makes you think marriage and a family will make you happy? How many happily married couples do you know?”

  Lola gave me a blank look. “I know lots of married couples. Your mama and Elmo and almost all of the girls we went to school with. What about Shirelle, my daddy’s ex-mistress? And her niece, Mariel?”

  “How many of them are happy?”

  “How would I know? I don’t know what goes on behind people’s closed doors, Joan. Why did you ask such a stupid question?”

  “You know what goes on behind my closed doors. You know what a joke my marriage is. And for the record, I can’t count the number of times Mama has said she wished she’d never met my stepfather. I am so sick of Reed, I left the house running this morning before he even left to go to his office.”

  “Uh-oh. What stupid thing
did he do or say this time?”

  “He told me this morning, while he was on top of me sweating like a fucking ox, that I’m not nearly as good in bed as I used to be.”

  Lola’s eyes got big, and her mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding! Have you ever told him just how lousy he is in bed?”

  “No, but I will someday. He criticized my bedroom skills and told me that I was no longer as cute as I was when he met me. I was only seventeen then. Just being that young is cute!”

  “Humph. Tell that pot-bellied gremlin I said he’s not as cute as he used to be either.”

  “Tell me about it. I was tempted to tell Reed about all the good times I have when I’m in bed with LongJohn. Not to mention all the rest of my hookups! He’s going to rent some adult movies for us to watch so I can get back on track because he thinks I’ve forgotten what real sex should be like!”

  “He said all that this morning?”

  “Yes!”

  “If you were that lousy in bed and losing your looks, Reed would have done something about it by now. Like most men who say shit like that, he’d have a mistress.”

  “Don’t even go there. He wouldn’t cheat on me to save his soul.” I gave Lola a pensive look. “He’s as obsessed with me as you are with Calvin.”

  “Be careful now,” she warned. “Don’t say something you’ll regret.”

  “I’m just messing with you. Speaking of Calvin, have you heard from him since that last text you told me about?”

  “No, I haven’t. I sent him another one last night, but he hasn’t replied yet. I know I’m on his mind, because he tells me all the time that he can’t wait to see me again.”

  “For your sake, I hope it’ll be soon.”

  “I have a feeling it will be.” That dreamy-eyed look was on Lola’s face for the rest of the meal.