Sex with Lois had become far less than satisfactory from the physical standpoint, also. Her belly was full and rounded and bloated with their child and she had gained at least ninety unnecessary pounds. Despite her enormous bulk, Lois always insisted on being on top. Half the time Rick didn’t know whether he was actually in or his member was merely caught up in a fold of fat, but Lois didn’t seem to care. She bounced up and down on him anyway, like a hippopotamus on a trampoline.
Their relationship had started out pleasantly enough, but it quickly metamorphosed into The Affair From Hell. Rick would have ended it long ago, except for one fact. Rick was deathly afraid of Lois. Afraid of what she might say, even more afraid of what she might do. Rick knew Lois had become a murderous sociopath and he was terrified that, unchecked, she might implicate him in her ghastly crimes.
What I need, thought Rick, while Lois was mimicking a sumo wrestler, is a woman who’s slim, exotic, and erotic. Someone who hasn’t been around the block a dozen times. Someone who’s sexy and ambitious. Not a stay-at-home stick-in-the-mud like Susan, not a fat psychotic slob like Lois. Certainly not a tramp like Cicily. I know just who I want. That beautiful black chick in Surveillance. Morgan Penny. One way or the other, I’m going to have her. Soon.
Finally, Lois finished with Rick and rolled off her human perch. She fumbled on the crowded night stand until she found a pack of cigarettes and lit one.
“You shouldn’t be smoking. It’s bad for the baby,” Rick cautioned her.
“I’m not smoking that much. Just with my coffee in the morning and after we have sex, which isn’t all that often. Not nearly often enough,” she groused.
He waited until she’d smoked half the cigarette before telling her, “Lois, the killings have to stop.”
She blew a thick cloud of smoke in Rick’s face. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re going to get caught. You’ve been lucky so far, but your luck can’t last forever.”
“Nonsense. Nobody’s going to find out. I’ve been very careful. Read the newspapers. The cops think a psychopathic serial killer is having a spree. They’re too dumb to suspect it’s just little old me having fun.”
“Why did you murder all those people, anyway?”
“In general, or would you like specifics?”
“Both, I guess.”
“I told you. Killing’s fun. It gives me as much of a rush as a snort of coke and as intense an orgasm as sex. Killing is my new hobby, Rick. Besides, it gives me something to do while you’re screwing your wife or one of your whores.”
“I’m not screwing my wife. I told you—”
Lois stamped out the cigarette and lit another. “Yeah, you told me she doesn’t let you touch her any more. I believe that like I believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the tooth fairy. You say Susan’s cut you off because she’s pregnant. That’s a lotta bull. She doesn’t have lockjaw, does she? A good woman, like me, will take care of her man right up until the minute she goes into labor.” A tantalizing idea entered her mind. “Maybe I can do you while our baby’s coming out.”
Lois’s eyes glowed malevolently. “I like seeing my victims’ blood spurt out of their veins when I poke them with my knife. I love hearing the gurgle in their throats when they’re in the final throes of death. I especially like watching the petrified look in their eyes when they realize I’m really going to kill them and it excites me endlessly when they whimper and beg for mercy. Best of all, I love getting even with people who interfere with my life.”
Lois shrugged. “Besides, it’s all your fault, Rick.”
His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. “Why is it all my fault?”
“You know what I told you that night when you raped me. When I knew you weren’t going to stop, I told you fine, I’d do it with you any way you wanted and as often as you wanted, but after you had me you could never have anyone else. No more Susan, no more bimbos. You agreed to those terms, remember?”
“Of course I agreed. What else could I do? You’d been teasing me for weeks with all of your kissing and fondling every time we were alone together, and then laughing and holding back with some flimsy excuse. You were on your period. You had a bad headache. You were expecting your mother to come over. It was a big game with you, Lois. The final straw was when you told me you were warming me up for Susan, but you knew Susan and I weren’t having sex. You made me so damn frustrated that night I would have promised you anything to get into your pants. You know a woman should never believe everything a man says in the heat of passion.”
“Well, you made a bargain so you could fuck me and you’re going to have to live with your idle promises for the rest of your life. I own you now, Rick. You belong to me. You’re my love slave. Don’t ever forget that. I should tie you up and whip you right now, you bad boy. Next time, don’t forget to bring the handcuffs, or I’ll really make you regret it,” she threatened ominously.
At first, Lois’s dominatrix routine made Rick terribly hot. Now, more and more, he realized she had crossed the line between kinky game playing and demonic insanity. Rick was fully convinced he’d made a bargain with the devil herself.
“When that slut Cicily Purdue pranced into my office and told me you’d forced her to have sex, what other choice did I have? For almost an hour, she told me all the kinky, deviant, perverted, things you’d made her do. Things I would have enjoyed and done willingly, Rick. Purdue threatened to sue you and the Blue Hawaii for a million dollars. I couldn’t let her live after that. No way, José. I had to kill her. You would have lost your job, perhaps you’d be sent to jail. I killed Cicily for you. To protect you. And I killed her because you’d screwed her. You know that’s a no-no, Rick.”
“Okay. You’ve justified killing Purdue. I admit, I hadn’t exercised good judgment with her. I suppose I would have had to kill her myself if you didn’t. But why did you have to kill Jeff Herbert? We’d already neutralized him. Herbert would never set foot in Blue Hawaii again.”
“Herbert was a blabbermouth busybody. He didn’t have sense enough to keep his mouth shut. He blabbed to Myra Kaplan and her husband, both. He would have blabbed to the cops next. Well, Mr. Jeff Herbert will never tell any tales about me again. The wimp actually cried like a baby when I stuck the gun barrel in his mouth. I blew his face into a million little pieces. If I hadn’t stopped Jeff from talking, eventually the cops might have believed him. Once the police were convinced I met with Cicily, there’s no telling where their investigation would end. If they played the hotel’s surveillance tapes, they would see you and Cicily going into your room in the hotel tower together. You wouldn’t have wanted them to find out about you and Cicily, would you, Rick?”
“No, of course not. You know about my hotel room?” Lacey expressed surprise.
“Of course I know. What do you think I am, stupid? I know you have your own private room at Blue Hawaii, complete with a king size bed, a wet bar, and hot and cold running bimbos. Supposedly, you keep the room because you work long, irregular hours, and need a place to shower, change, and get a few hours rest. But I know the real reason for the room. It’s a place where you can screw your sluts.
“Next time we get together, we’ll do it in your hotel room instead of my apartment. You can pretend I’m one of your cheap whores. That should stimulate you, Rick.”
“What about Nellie Sherman? Why did you have to kill her?”
“Nellie knew about our affair. I should have killed Nellie months ago instead of just firing her. When you told me she was at Blue Hawaii spilling her guts to Myra Kaplan, I knew I had no other choice. Nellie was a delight to kill. I splattered her brains all over her bedroom.”
“And Patti Ho? She didn’t know anything about us. Why did you kill her?”
“Everyone at Blue Hawaii knew you were taking Patti to your hotel room two or three times a week. She bragged about your affair to anyone who would listen. I killed Patti to teach you a lesson. I told you. I’m not going to let you have any oth
er women, Rick. You slept with Patti and so she had to die. If I find out about you screwing anyone else, they’ll die, too. That includes your loving wife, Susan. If you don’t leave her as soon as she has the baby—” Lois didn’t bother to complete the statement. She knew Rick got the point.
Rick clenched his fists. He was so angry he would kill Lois himself, with his bare hands, if she were not pregnant with his child. His only option at the moment was to try to defuse her. “Okay, Lois, I understand how you feel. But that’s enough killing. We’ll both wind up in prison.”
“No, we won’t. I’m too smart for the cops. They’ll never catch me.”
“I’m not so sure,” Rick mused. “Myra and Michael Kaplan are already suspicious. Myra questioned Jeff Herbert. Then, she came to my office and wanted me to check the Surveillance tapes to prove you and Cicily had a meeting. Myra’s been asking questions all over the casino, even more so after she had lunch with Sherman. Her husband’s a newspaper reporter. He was at Herbert’s house the same day you killed him. I’m surprised you didn’t run into each other. You just missed bumping into Mark Caruso at Herbert’s house, too. Caruso’s in charge of Homicide at Metro. What’s more, both Kaplan and Caruso were sniffing around here the other morning. Together. I’m afraid they’re tightening the noose.”
“Don’t worry about Myra Kaplan. She’s next on my list.”
“No! Dammit, Lois, you’re not listening to me. The killings have to stop. I can silence the Kaplans. I’ve planted a camera in their condo. They’ve been having three-way orgies every night with a blonde who works with Michael. If you want, I’ll show you the videos. They’ll turn you on, Lois, I know they will.”
“I don’t need to watch someone else having sex to get turned on. I’m always turned on. You should know that by now, Rick. What are you going to do with the videos?”
“I’m going to send the Kaplans a copy of one of the DVRs. Believe me, they’ll back off as soon as they watch it. Then, you won’t have to kill either of them.”
“Oh, Rick, why do you want to be such a spoilsport? I’ll be careful. Honest, I will. Just let me have my fun.” With that comment, Lois took him in her mouth.
Twenty-Seven
AFTER WORK, MYRA DROVE directly from the Blue Hawaii to Morgan’s apartment, stopping only long enough to pick up a two-pound box of Ethel M chocolates and a bottle of Manteca White Zinfandel wine to take as a thank you gift to Morgan’s mother. Myra hoped to have enough time to go home first and shower, but a series of phone calls kept her in her office later than she’d planned. I’ll shower when we get to the condo, she thought. Maybe Morgan will shower with me. I’d like that.
Morgan greeted her at the door. The two women kissed unabashedly, despite Morgan’s mother standing by watching, an amused expression on her face. Myra handed the older woman the candy and wine.
Morgan’s mother smiled graciously. “Thank you, dear, but you didn’t have to bring anything.”
“I know, but I wanted to, Mrs. Penny.”
“Myra, I’d like you to call me Mom.”
“Okay, Mom,” Myra agreed willingly.
Mom put the chocolates on the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen with the bottle of wine.
Morgan lit two cigarettes, one for her and one for Myra. The courtesy had almost become a habit. “Myra, I’ve been dying to see you, all day long. Even for just a few minutes. I was going crazy thinking about you, knowing you were just two floors up from me.”
“I wanted to see you too, Morgan. I thought of calling you and asking you to meet me in the Help’s Hall for coffee. But it wouldn’t be safe for us to be together at Blue Hawaii. Because of Rick Lacey, not because of what anyone might say about us,” she quickly added. “I don’t care what other people think.”
One eyebrow raised. “Aren’t you worried about what Michael and Kimberly might think?”
“Well, yes. But they’re the only ones,” Myra admitted. “And I’ll find a way to handle that.”
“I’m so excited about tonight,” Morgan told her. “How did you manage to scoot Michael and Kimberly out of town?”
Myra grinned. “Actually, it just sorta happened. Michael had to go to a grand opening of a restaurant in Laughlin for the Times. All I did was suggest he take Kim with him for company and spend the night there, so they wouldn’t have to drive back late. I know that’s what he and Kim wanted to do anyway, but he was afraid to tell me.”
“Speaking of being late—did they give you any sand about the time you got home last night?”
Myra shook her head. “No. Neither of them said a word. They were sound asleep when I walked in. I don’t think they had any idea how late I was out.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any trouble between you and your family.”
Myra set her purse on an end table. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Sure,” Morgan nodded. “You can help me carry the food from the kitchen to the dining room. Mom’s been cooking all afternoon, and everything is ready.”
The dining room table was made of cherry wood and would seat six, or up to ten with the extensions inserted. Morgan had purchased the dining room set at a garage sale for a fraction of its original cost and gave it to her mother as a Mother’s Day gift. The table was set for company using Mrs. Penny’s Sunday best: a white linen tablecloth, china dishes, and silver-plated tableware. Two sterling silver candleholders held white beeswax tapers. It was obvious to Myra that Morgan’s mother wanted to make a good impression on her daughter’s new friend.
“I hope your mom didn’t go to any bother for me,” Myra said. “I know that with her heart condition, making dinner must be very tiring.”
“Mom loves to cook,” Morgan replied. “Actually, I think cooking is therapeutic for her.”
Morgan’s mother poured the White Zinfandel into crystal goblets and lit the candles while Myra helped Morgan bring the food to the table: cole slaw, a huge platter of golden brown fried chicken, mashed potatoes, country gravy, green beans, corn on the cob, both buttermilk biscuits and cornbread, and a pitcher of iced tea. For dessert, she’d prepared strawberry shortcake with real whipped cream.
Myra and Morgan sat next to each other on one side of the rectangular table. Mrs. Penny sat at the end of the table nearest the kitchen. Myra had large helpings of everything and seconds of the chicken, potatoes and gravy, and string beans.
“Mom, you go watch TV in the living room,” Morgan said, when they could eat no more. “Myra and I will clear the table and load the dishwasher. Would you like me to make you a cup of mint tea?”
“Yes, please. I’m afraid I ate too much again, and I have a touch of heartburn. The tea will help settle my stomach.”
Morgan filled a teakettle with water and placed it on the stove. “Mom grows the peppermint herself in a pot on the patio,” she informed Myra.
They scraped the plates, dropping the scraps and chicken bones into the garbage disposal, and scrubbed the dishes with a stiff brush before placing them in the dishwasher. They were just starting on the pots and pans when the kettle whistled. Morgan measured dried mint leaves into a teapot, added a regular tea bag, and filled the pot with boiling water. When the tea had steeped for about five minutes, she strained the brew into a cup.
“Would you mind taking this in to Mom?” Morgan asked. “Stay there and keep her company. I’ll finish in the kitchen, and then we can go. I’ve already packed the few things I’ll need for tonight and tomorrow morning.”
Myra carried the cup of tea to the living room. “The dinner was absolutely marvelous,” she complimented. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”
Morgan’s mother took a sip of the tea. It was still too hot to drink comfortably. “You don’t need an invitation, Myra. You’re welcome here any time. Please sit down. I’d like to talk with you for a few minutes.”
Myra sat opposite Morgan’s mother. Mrs. Penny got right to the point. “How do you feel about my daughter, dear?”
Myra beamed. “I’m crazy about her, Mom,” she said honestly.
Mrs. Penny nodded contemplatively. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear that. Morgan’s always been a perfect daughter. No trouble at all, even when she was a teenager. She’s never taken drugs, never ran around with the wrong crowd, and, of course, never got pregnant and brought any babies home for me to raise. And she looks after me. For all of those things, I thank God.
“Morgan’s my only child. My husband abandoned us right after she was born. I used to think the reason Morgan didn’t like boys was because she was never around any men while she was growing up, but I know better now. Yes, I know Morgan is lesbian. A lot of mothers would be horrified, but not me. All I want is for her to be happy and to live a good and productive life.
“Please don’t tell Morgan I told you, but this morning she confided to me that she’s in love with you. Morgan’s never said that about anybody else.”
Myra was at a loss for words. “I’m flattered,” was all she could muster up.
“Morgan has always been pretty much of a loner. She’s had a few girlfriends, but never became serious with any of them. Not until now. Which is why I wanted to talk with you, dear. I know you’re married. What is your husband’s name?”
“Michael.”
“Michael. Yes, I remember, now. Morgan did tell me. I hope you don’t think I’m being too inquisitive. My intentions are good. I don’t want either you or Morgan to be hurt. As I said, Morgan believes she’s in love with you, but she would never tell you how she feels unless she thought you were in love with her, too. She may not seem so, but she’s quite sensitive, and she doesn’t take well to rejection.
A Time For Us (Michael Kaplan Mysteries) Page 19