Adelaide Upset

by Penny Greenhorn

  “I suggest you run,” I finally said.

  “Nonsense,” she responded, dripping her disdain upon me. “I have a job to complete, and I refuse to leave until I’ve glanced over every inch of this poor excuse for a house.”

  “You must be hiding a set of balls under that skirt,” I said, shocked by her gall. “Are you honestly suggesting that I stand around and let you tear apart my house for a second time?”

  She shrugged one bony shoulder. “It is your best option.”

  “I beg to differ,” I replied, taking one menacing step forward.

  “Of course,” she said, raising her voice to stop me in my tracks, “I wouldn’t be foolish enough to think a young twit like you would follow the wisest course. I came prepared, you see.” From her pocket she withdrew a syringe, the needle capped in clear plastic.

  “Good luck getting that into me a second time.”

  “As I said, I don’t rely on luck.” She reached around behind her, unclipping something from the belt at her waist.

  Shit. It was a Taser, and Taser trumps pepper spray.

  Seeing my expression Raina offered up a biting smile, her hands running along the gun-shaped stunner. “It has a range of twenty-one feet.”

  “Okay,” I said, steeping my voice with total submission. “What do you want me to do?”

  She took a bold step in my direction, tossing the syringe at me. I didn’t move to catch it, letting it lightly hit my chest where it rolled off to land by my feet. “What is it?” Bending down, I took the opportunity to glance through my lashes, furtively watching how she handled the stun gun.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, though her emotions conveyed no assurance or comfort. “It’s non-lethal.”

  I remained in my crouched position, legs poised beneath me as I rolled the syringe through my fingers. I did this for so long that Raina grew impatient. “Inject yourself,” she commanded crisply.

  I removed the plastic cap, letting it drop to the floor. Then slowly, drawing out each moment, I extended my arm. With the other hand I raised the syringe, bringing it to hover over the bend in my arm where the skin seemed thinnest.

  It was that moment before, the moment when you’re sure you’ve won, that you are at your weakest. I launched myself down the hall at Raina, staying low as I moved. The Taser erupted, little wires shooting over my shoulder, embedding the wall with crackling blue sparks. I tackled her, both of us crashing into the kitchen, a jumble of limbs.

  Her strength surprised me. Those thin arms became wiry as they grappled mine, and her fingers bit into my skin. I struggled to keep her away from the hallway, away from the Taser and syringe. Her struggle was more violent, and it wasn’t long before I caught an elbow to the face. I scrambled to my knees while she turned to grab the centerpiece off my table. Apples dropped to the floor with a bruising thud, rolling slowly as Raina swung the ceramic dish down on my head. I threw up an arm, catching the bowl with it instead. It hurt, pain flashing down my spine and to my toes. But the bowl didn’t break, not until Raina dropped it, then shards shot across the kitchen floor like a fireworks display. She was off, running past me, rigid in her desire for weapons and protection.

  I gripped her skirt, but it slipped through my fingers so I dove after her ankle, using my neck and curled arm to trap it. Raina cried out for the first time, a sharp sound of surprise as she struck the floor. I didn’t give her time to think, crawling up her body until I straddled her waist. I pulled the bottle from my pocket, and if I do say so myself, handled it quite well.

  “Stop squirming or I’ll unleash my pepper spray.” She lashed out, trying to hit the bottle from my fingers and nearly succeeded. “Fine!”

  I sprayed the bitch.

  Chapter 15

  The liquid streamed out, surprising me. I’d expected a fine mist for some reason. So it took a little aiming on my part to get her right in the eyeballs, but I shouldn’t have made the effort. The stink of it seemed to permeate the air, mingling with Raina’s shrieks. She flailed around, scrubbing her eyes, but I had a feeling she was only making things worse.

  Her eyes watered profusely, the tears blending with snot strings that clung about her mouth. Raina’s face was a soupy mess, most undignified, but I didn’t have a chance to enjoy my victory because I could feel my control quickly slipping.

  In her desperation and discomfort, which I felt acutely, she fought like a madwoman, bucking, scratching and biting. I struggled to keep her in place even as I began to succumb to the pepper spray’s effects. It was as though I’d walked into a room full of chopped onions, and I sniffed, trying to keep the snot in place even as my eyes grew glassy and wet. Raina took advantage of the moment, latching on to some of my hair and giving it a yank. She didn’t let go either, frantically pulling, hoping she could dump me off.

  My hold on her was tenuous at best, and I wildly searched the room through a haze of tears looking for Smith. From a corner of the room he was watching, a pearly pillar that refused to take complete shape, half mist, half man.

  “Do something!”

  He didn’t move. His eyes were sorry, but his emotions were firm and resolute. The situation was coming unraveled and Smith refused to help me because of his scruples?

  Maybe he wouldn’t hit a girl, but I sure as hell could.

  Raina had fisted the hank of hair, twisting it until I screamed. I was so angry then, so angry I might have killed her. I jerked forward to grab the kitchen utensil I kept hanging by its hook along the end of a row of low cabinets. Raina had used my lurching weight as an opportunity to roll out from under me. I let her. She came at me from behind, somewhat insensible, lashing out like her life depended on it. I pivoted around, my arm raised, weapon in hand, ready to knock her unconscious. I hesitated. She didn’t, punching me. In. The. Boob. I didn’t hesitate then, swinging the rolling pin down in an arc aimed for her head. The cylinder of wood got her just above the ear and she toppled instantly after.

  * * *

  I tried moving Raina myself, but I was already winded and hurt from our tussle together, and even after running my face under cool water I was still feeling... off. I needed help. She wasn’t waking up in my house, and furthermore, I was determined that she would never set foot here again.

  No, I didn’t intend to kill her, but I definitely had something in mind. That was why I called Francesca. I had to return to Luke’s to do it, borrowing his phone. The little orange light blinked away at me while I was there, a taunting reminder of my earlier discovery. Strangely though, Raina’s botched break-in was just what I had needed to keep my mind off things.

  Francesca, recognizing Luke’s number, answered her cell phone hastily. “Adelaide, I’m glad you called. I was just thinking that—”

  “I need your help,” I cut in, keeping my voice low as I spoke into the receiver.

  “Anything,” she replied lightly.

  “Come over to my house, but don’t tell anyone what you’re doing.”

  I heard movement in the background, she was already gathering up her keys, purse, etc. “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.” I would’ve hung up, but a thought suddenly occurred to me. “Oh, and bring some tape. The big kind.”

  Raina’s visit was not without perks, namely the acquisition of her things. I got a syringe, still fully loaded with who knew what (though I could guess) and even better, a big ass stun gun (with a range of twenty-one feet) and some spare cartridges to go with it. After stowing them somewhere safe I gave Raina’s face—red, swollen and slick with mucus—one last glance before going to the living room to wait for Francesca.

  She burst through the door a few minutes later without knocking. “Does this have something to do with that silver Lexus I passed?”

  I’d already seen Raina’s car, craning my neck to glimpse it through the window. It was close, but not too close.

  “Good, you brought the tape.” I took the red dispenser from her hand, finding it heavy and awkw
ard. I’d been thinking duct, but packaging would do. “So... Francesca, I think of us as close. We’re close, right?”

  She tossed her purse onto my couch, fluffed her hair and took a seat. “Since I’m your best and only friend, the answer would be yes. Why are you being weird?” She looked around the room, suspicious. “What did you do?”

  “For example,” I continued, ignoring the question. “If one of us was to say, ‘I need your help burying a body,’ the other would say, ‘I’ll grab my shovel,’ right?”

  Francesca was both intrigued and worried, but she made a concentrated effort to appear bored and disinterested. Oddly, this was her way of being supportive. “I guess it’s a good sign that you only asked me to bring tape, then.”

  We were busy after that. I led Francesca to the kitchen, vaguely waving at Raina’s inert body, which was my way of explaining.

  “Is she dead?” Francesca asked.

  “No, but I want to move her away from my property before she wakes up.” I told her my plan, glazing over everything quickly. It basically entailed carrying Raina to her car, driving it downtown, and dumping both.

  It wasn’t until I told Francesca that she should follow me into town so I’d have a ride home that she finally spoke up. “But I want to drive the Lexus.”

  “Fine,” I agreed, stripping off Raina’s gloves. “Wear these then. I don’t want you leaving fingerprints in it.”

  Francesca was more intrigued by the minute, enjoying the situation immensely. “They’re so soft,” she said, rubbing the leather. “And they fit perfectly!”

  “They’re yours,” I answered. “Now help me carry her outside.”

  Raina began to cough and moan just as we got her out the front door. Francesca released her shoulders in alarm, letting Raina plop to the grass. “I think she’s coming ‘round!”

  “Dropping her sure didn’t help,” I replied, letting her feet go as well.

  “I’m sorry!” Francesca answered, a little guilty. “It’s not like I’ve done this before.”

  “And I have?”

  “Well I don’t know, have you?” Francesca countered. “I don’t know what you do or what you think. I swear you’re like that saying, about the man being an island.”

  “No man is an island,” I corrected. “And it doesn’t support your argument.”

  “Shut up, Adelaide,” she said, shifting from foot to foot, growing uncomfortable. “What do we do?”

  “I gave her a good knock on the head, it should have put her out for a while, but the pepper spray is so intense, the burn might rouse her. We have to rinse it off.”

  Francesca was staring.

  “She had it coming,” I assured.

  Francesca believed me, her loyalty and trust always came as something of a shock. The way she had picked me, just picked me to be her friend, well, I’d always be in awe of her for that. I’d always think of her as the pretty one and myself as her sidekick. But just now I was calling the shots.

  “Wait here,” I said. “I’ve got to get something from Luke’s.” I was back in less than five minutes, a coil of tubing under my arm. “Let’s hose her down.”

  Cold water splashed onto Raina Thompson’s face, running freely down. She sputtered and moaned, but didn’t wake. And after that we resumed hauling her towards her car. It was hard work and soon she began to droop, lower and lower, until we were more or less dragging her along.

  “I’ll get a wheelbarrow.”

  “It’s not far,” Francesca protested.

  But I insisted. I wasn’t going to leave Raina in her car, too easy that. Her placement would be noteworthy, and we needed help carting her there.

  The place was Neptune Park. I followed Francesca using her own car. The wheelbarrow was shoved in back, hanging out so much the trunk refused to close. We parked side by side on Beachview Drive, Francesca and I both so nervous you’d think the body we were dumping was actually dead.

  It was a busy part, the place where the park was located on the island, maybe even the busiest. But it was late. Wrangling Raina into the backseat of her car had taken quite a while, and even then I’d still had some things to do before we left. But the lateness of the hour worked to our advantage, nothing stirred but the crash of distant waves.

  “Let’s hurry,” Francesca suggested, uneasy as I.

  We lifted out the wheelbarrow, not bothering to shut the trunk before we pushed it into place, then pulled Raina out by her ankles, dumping her in. With each of us lifting one of the wooden handles our balance was off. The wheelbarrow tipped over twice (both times were Francesca’s fault) and spilled Raina all over the pavement, a spray of limbs in every direction.

  It took a while, but we finally made it through the parking lot, down the widely paved walkway and around the little park. Our destination was centered in a circle of sand, the large sculpture of a whale, its massive head breaking through the surface of the earth, a baby whale, the gray body longer than a man, riding along. The duo drew lots of attention, situated near a host of attractions, not to mention the fenced in jungle gym beside it. It was too easy to imagine the gawking children, the concerned parents, and Raina’s horrid morning. I wished I could be there.

  We unloaded her quickly. I pulled on her arms while Francesca pushed, griping all the while about Raina’s bony ass. When she was sprawled in place, lying atop the sloped gray mound of a whale, we both breathed easier, slipping through the dark as we returned the wheelbarrow. But I wasn’t done. I grabbed the bag of supplies I’d packed from home, creeping back to the park as Francesca tailed me.

  Tape came first; just enough to keep her from slipping off the sculpture. Then I poured the honey on by myself as Francesca didn’t want to get her fingers sticky. I had even thought to bring a butter knife, so I spread a nice even layer all over, taking time to work it through her hair. Francesca lightly sprinkled flour over my work, and by the time we were done Raina was a splash of white in the dark.

  I quickly scrawled a note, my fingers sticking to the pen and paper, leaving honey smudges. I patted it to Raina’s chest where it stuck like glue.

  “I can’t see,” Francesca complained. “What’s it say?”

  “I rob houses for fun,” I recited. “Do your civic duty and call 911.”

  “She robbed you? Why didn’t you just call the police?”

  I wasn’t in trouble with the police per se, but I’d been involved in some incidents, for which the police were curious. I thought it best to tread lightly where they were concerned, no need to draw attention to myself. But I couldn’t say any of that, so instead I said, “She pissed me off.”

  “You know the insects are going to eat her alive.”

  “I hope they do,” I replied.

  Chapter 16

  “Ben,” I said sharply, “that one almost hit me in the head.”

  “Don’t screech at me,” he gruffed, although he took more care not to spit sunflower shells in my direction.

  His shift had been finished more than an hour past, but he was in no hurry to go. The summer heat beat us into a sullen silence as we sat together under the big oak, the picnic table scratchy beneath my thighs. The motel lot had a spattering of cars, but was mostly empty, everyone away enjoying their day.

  “So where is your pal Tim?”

  He shrugged, taking his sweet time, making the consumption of seeds into a ritualistic art-form. “You got a bug up your ass about that boy. Missy likes him well enough, I imagine most girls do, so what’s your problem?”

  “Missy likes him because she wants to indoctrinate him, and by that I mean she wants to brainwash him into being her boyfriend. But I already have a boyfriend. My neighbor, Lucas, remember?”

  Spit. Spit. “Don’t know about that,” Ben said, feeling skeptical. Ever since I had mentioned Lucas, more or less fessing up to a growing infatuation/obsession, Ben had been loathe to dwell on the subject, going so far as to willfully forget.

  “You’d like him,” I insisted, wanting Ben’s ap
proval for some odd reason. “He doesn’t say much and he takes good care of the lawn.”

  “Don’t know about—”

  The clash of his alarm and terror assured me of the worse, propelling my body into overdrive as it primed for action. I was certain we were about to be gunned down, murdered, definitely murdered, or a maiming at the least, but no. It was just Florence.

  A few weeks back Ben had dipped his toe into the pool that was society, deciding, after years of prolonged mourning, to move on from his wife’s death. He’d joined ‘his’ crowd, meaning the elderly, bingo nights and all. It had been at one such event that he’d met Florence, a local widow. They must have really hit it off, because underneath all Ben’s fear was a growing awareness. He tried to bury it, and when that failed, he simply ran. He did that now with shoulders pulled forward, angry steps, spry-like in movement as he escaped from sight, slipping around the back of the motel.

  “Florence,” I called, seeing her pluck something off the backseat of the boat she called a Volvo. “Over here.”

  Unable to tack down the reason for it, I still had to admit, I liked Florence. She had sugar white hair, and it wasn’t thinning like you’d expect, but thick, and always worn in a loose, heavy bun. Her dresses were outdated but flattering, today’s a linen print of some sort. She was always cute, and so... earnest.

  “Hello, Adelaide. I don’t suppose Ben is around?” she asked hopefully.

  “His shift ended an hour ago,” I replied, trying to be gentle. “But you can probably still catch him. He’s walking home and his trailer isn’t far.”

  “No.” She shook her head, not even trying to hide her disappointment. “Chasing after him is no good, though I don’t expect a pretty girl like you would understand. I bet the boys flock to you.”