Luck was with her, she found a window on the side of the kitchen unlatched. Slipping the screen off, she pulled the casement window toward her just enough so that she could slip inside. There was a vintage aluminum dinette set below the window that made her resort to a series of contortions that would allow her to avoid the obstacle, but she managed, thanks to years of physical conditioning, and dropped to her feet as soundlessly as the cat who entered the room and gazed at her curiously while she went about her business.
First things first, she went through all of the kitchen drawers, assessing the collection of blades that might be put into use, and found a handful of adequate possibilities, then she went in search of two things: a suitable location for the main event, and a bag which might contain emergency veterinary tools. Who knew what lovely possibilities might lie in such a thing? A smile danced about her lips at the thought.
Bradley Dobbins’ fat grey tabby followed Susannah around, as she moved quietly from room to room, familiarizing herself with the house and sorting through all sorts of delicious scenarios in her mind. The cat would meow every once in a while, and Susannah absently scratched its ears when it twined around her ankles as she knelt beside the vet’s bed, going through the drawer in his nightstand. She withdrew a handgun, tucking it into her waistband, not so that she could use it, but merely as a precaution, so that he couldn’t use it, in the unlikely event that he woke and found her in his house.
Bradley seemed to enjoy the pleasure of his own company, which was evident when she found a stack of explicit magazines, a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues in the next drawer down. Taking out one of the magazines, she laid it on the bed and strategically squirted a few blobs of lotion onto the centerfold, then pushed the drawer mostly shut and moved on to the closet. She noticed a fair number of pairs of sandals in his walk-in closet, flip-flops, both cloth and leather, climbing and hiking sandals, and even an old, ratty pair of rubber shower shoes. She wondered if he had attractive feet. Most folks didn’t, so if this guy had model feet, she might want to take her souvenirs from there.
Susannah heard a snort from the living room which might indicate that the vet had snored himself awake. She crouched low and moved back into the darkened hall which led to the living room, holding her breath, listening. She could kill him now if it came to that, but she really preferred to do more planning first, since he was rather well-known. Her heart raced, not in fear, but in anticipation of what she would do to this man who had no idea of how fragile and vulnerable he really was.
When the low rumble of his slumber resumed, she made her way back out of the kitchen, using the French doors this time, which she left unlocked and partially open, just to start building a sense of fear and paranoia within the vet. She moved quickly to the gate, keeping watch for any figures in windows of surrounding houses, and let herself out. She’d no sooner closed the gate when a voice came from the shadows, startling her.
“Hey! You there!” a rather frail-looking elderly man came running toward her, in a slow, hitching fashion.
Susannah was still in the shadows, so she was certain that he couldn’t see her face, and her hair was hidden underneath its wrap, so identifying her would be nearly impossible. She made a split-second decision, lunging at the old man and tackling him before he knew what hit him. Knocking him out with one punch, before he ever even caught a glimpse of her, she rose to her feet and bolted, taking a darkly shadowed route through side yards and common areas, until she was free from the enclave of the over-privileged. Tim was still busy at the mortuary when she returned, no doubt cleaning up after the boisterous wake, so she took a long, hot bath, and went to bed. The would-be assassin was sound asleep when her husband slipped under the covers beside her.
CHAPTER 17
* * *
Be Careful What You Ask For…
Bradley Dobbins awoke with a start, his living room awash in revolving red and blue lights. A knock sounded at his door and he opened it to find Pellman’s finest, Sheriff Arlen Bemis, looking grim.
“Arlen? What’s going on?” the veterinarian tried to rub the sleepiness from his eyes.
“Your neighbor, Mr. Crothers, got attacked in your yard.”
“What? Attacked? By whom? And why?” Dobbins blinked blearily, trying to process the shocking information.
“That’s what I’m here to find out. You have any company this evening?” he asked, staring pointedly at the empty beer bottle in Brad’s hand.
“No. I came home from a very long day, had a beer in front of the TV and fell asleep. Did Crothers see the guy?”
Bemis shook his head.
“Nope, just saw your gate moving and a shadow coming out. Whoever it was tackled him and knocked him out cold. Old guy called 911 as soon as he came to. You got anything missing around here?” the sheriff asked, glancing past the vet, into the house.
“I have no idea. Like I said, I just now woke up, I think because of the lights.”
“I’m gonna be out here for a while. I’ve got some forensics geeks coming out to search the attack site. Take a look around and come get me if you find anything peculiar,” Bemis directed, poking a fresh toothpick between his teeth and chomping down on it.
“Okay, yeah,” Dobbins ran a hand through his hair and started flipping on lights.
When he came to the kitchen, he paused, seeing the French doors open a few inches. To his right a breeze ruffled the curtain above the dinette, and he noticed that the screen was missing and the window was open. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck raise just a bit, he scanned the kitchen, looking for other clues, and saw that his oversized utensil drawer hadn’t closed completely. He felt a light touch on his ankle and nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Dammit Oscar,” he hissed at the cat, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath.
The giant tabby looked balefully up at him and uttered a nearly silent meow.
“You could’ve come and woken me up,” the vet muttered illogically at the unfazed feline, who sank down on his haunches and began washing his face with his paw.
“Find anything?” Arlen Bemis called from the foyer.
“In here…I think someone was in my kitchen,” Bradley called, rooted to the spot.
He showed the sheriff the open door, drawer and window, then left him in the kitchen, moving through the rest of the house to look for anything that might be out of place.
Moments later Bradley Dobbins came charging back into the kitchen, calling out to the sheriff, his eyes wide and scared.
“Arlen, you gotta come see this,” the vet insisted, heading back down the hall.
Bemis sighed and put his hands on his knees, pushing himself up to a standing position. He’d been crouched by the door, looking for telltale signs of forced entry. The out-of-shape lawman lumbered toward the bedroom, wondering why in the hell criminals didn’t cause trouble during normal business hours. It was getting late, he was tired, and there was a smooth bourbon waiting at home.
Arlen made a face when Dobbins gestured to the magazine on the bed. A crude phallus had been drawn in lotion on the centerfold.
“Well, that makes me think that all of this trouble was caused by a teenager on a dare,” Bemis shook his head.
“If it was, he’s a dangerous teenager now,” Dobbins growled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the sheriff narrowed his eyes.
“Whoever it was…took my gun. I keep it in the drawer, and it’s gone. They looked in my closet too. The light was on when I came in here, and I never leave the lights on.”
“Well, that changes things,” Arlen sighed, visions of paperwork dancing in his head. “See if you find anything else. I’m gonna have a deputy come in and take your statement. I’ve got deputies in cars and on foot combing the neighborhood, but you’ll want to make sure that you lock up tight after we’re done here.”
Dobbins nodded.
“Do you think I should go check out my office building?” the vet asked.
“Nah, stuff like this usually isn’t personal. You’re a well-liked guy, I’m sure this was just a random thing. You probably won’t have any more issues, but be alert for a while when you’re coming and going,” Arlen advised.
“I’m never going to get back to sleep tonight,” Dobbins muttered, absent-mindedly shoving Oscar aside with his foot when the blissfully unaware animal moved in for some affection.
The cat hissed a warning, gave his owner a dirty look and sashayed from the room. Somewhere in the closet was a pair of sandals that needed to be peed on.
**
Susannah was positively giddy after her experiences at Bradley Dobbins’ house. Tackling the meddling old man was something that she felt somewhat badly about, but the clues that she had left at the veterinarian’s house would be driving both him and the police crazy, and the thought of all of those puzzled authority figures made her smile. Knowing that they were squirming with unsatisfied curiosity and righteous indignation gave her intense pleasure, and she toyed with the idea of merely tormenting the veterinarian for a while before killing him. His skin was nothing special, so that part could wait, but he’d pushed his luck too far for a permanent reprieve. She’d play for a while, but when she got bored, she’d kill him in a spectacularly appropriate fashion. What that would look like, she had no idea, as yet, but there was time to plot and plan, despite the bloodlust that rose up within her at the mere thought of the arrogant veterinarian.
Susannah had come home and stripped out of her “play clothes,” putting them in the washing machine after hiding Bradley’s gun behind the false back of a jelly cupboard in the basement. She’d shaken her hair free and gone upstairs to enjoy her bath, her mind racing with tantalizing possibilities for his death scene.
CHAPTER 18
* * *
Kindred Spirits
Susannah was in a fantastic mood, until she arrived at work. She’d been fantasizing all morning about different ways to euthanize the arrogant veterinarian, and which souvenirs that she should claim afterwards, for her art collection. He had very large ears, which she might be able to make into a sort of leather flower to adorn the base of her skin tree. She was preoccupied with the details of how she could sew the skin into place to shape her flower, when she walked into Andre’s spotless commercial kitchen and saw an unfamiliar face.
Andre was having a conversation with a young man who was dressed in the traditional black and white hounds-tooth pants, black jacket and white hat of an upper-level kitchen employee. The Head Chef beckoned to Susannah when she came in the door.
“Tanner, this is Susannah. She’s my Assistant Chef, so you’ll be doing whatever she instructs you to do. Susannah, this is one of our new prep guys, Tanner,” Andre performed a quick introduction and the young man stuck out a limp hand, which Susannah shook…very briefly.
“Where’s Rosa?” she frowned. Rosa was precise and fast, so even though she was a chatterbox, Susannah worked very well with her.
“She had some sort of family emergency, and the guy who works her opposite days quit, so we hired some additional guys to help pick up the slack.”
Susannah stared at him, blinking. She hated new people. New people needed to be trained, and she hated training. She desperately hoped that this guy, and any others whom Andre had given a job, wouldn’t want to engage in small talk. She despised small talk, particularly in the workplace. She’d only tolerated it from Rosa because the woman had extraordinary knife skills.
“Don’t worry about training, I spent a couple of hours last night, and the entire morning bringing him up to speed and he’s a pretty quick study, so we should get through the lunch rush just fine, and then we’ll have one of the seasoned guys work with him tonight so he can get a feel for dinner prep,” Andre assured Susannah, noting the glazed look in her eyes. “We got fourteen cases of rabbits in that need to be prepared. If you want to get started, I’ll have Tanner work the vegetables.”
“Okay,” she nodded, brightening a bit at the thought of being able to precisely dismember the rabbits, her cleaver making cuts so perfect that each piece would look just like the others.
Susannah had sliced and diced her way through three of the pink creatures before Tanner came back from the massive commercial fridge with a large bin filled with veggies, and set himself up at an adjacent work station. She was glad that he didn’t seem to be much of a talker, but was a bit unnerved by the way that he watched her. He peeled and chopped with a skill that nearly matched hers, all the while sneaking glances at her peripherally.
“You’re really good at that,” Tanner said quietly, not looking at her.
She studied him for a moment, trying not to stare at the artfully arranged bun which sat atop his head beneath the required hair net. He seemed rather like a hipster version of Tim.
“I’ve had lots of practice,” she shrugged.
“Me too,” he said mildly. “Do you want some help with that? I’m actually better with flesh than with plants.”
Susannah didn’t look up from her work, but wondered at the slight thrill that shot through her when he said that.
“No, I’m good. Thanks though.”
“No problem.”
The two of them worked in silence, each intent upon their task, and she had to admit that she was impressed, and somehow intrigued by the new employee. So much so that, despite her disdain for small talk, she initiated a conversation.
“So, you must have a good amount of experience in the kitchen,” Susannah commented, for once wanting to know more about a fellow human being.
“Nope, not really.”
She stared at him, surprised that someone seemed less inclined to talk than she.
“What did you do before this?”
“I just moved here from out of state. I was in…healthcare.”
“Healthcare?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel responsible,” a corner of Susannah’s mouth quirked up in a slight smile.
The truth was that when she heard the term “ma’am,” it made her think of her mother, and that never turned out well.
“Sorry,” Tanner glanced up from his work only briefly.
“It’s okay. So what brought you to Pellman?” she persisted, odd behavior for her.
The young man shrugged.
“Dunno. Never been here before, seemed like it might be interesting.”
“Interesting? Never heard Pellman described that way before. Well, I hope everything works out for you. It looks like you’re going to do just fine here, if you continue to work like that,” she pointed at his growing pile of prep work with her cleaver.
“Thanks.”
Tanner and Susannah breezed through the lunch rush like they’d worked together their entire lives. Little was said, but much was accomplished, and when Andre asked her how the new kid was working out, she replied with more enthusiasm than the Head Chef had ever seen from her. At the end of their shift, she tossed her apron into the hamper and regarded him with a measure of respect.
“Good job in there today.”
“Thanks, you too,” Tanner sat on a chair in the breakroom, tying his shoe, but stood and followed Susannah out the door when she left.
She started walking home and realized that he was right behind her. Stopping, she turned.
“You live around here?” she asked, not unnerved in the slightest.
“Couple miles from here.”
“Me too,” she nodded. “Whereabouts?”
“Slidell Street, in the apartments across from the gas station.”
The area was right between where Pellman turned from respectable to seedy, home to those who were still willing to struggle enough to keep from going under.
“That’s a few blocks from my house,” Susannah commented, glad that she lived on the more comfortable side of town. “You’ll go right past my place to get there. I live next door to the mortuary.”
“That must be cool,�
� Tanner replied, falling in step beside her, hands shoved in his pockets.
She shot a quick glance at him to see if he was mocking her, but he didn’t seem to be.
“Sometimes,” she murmured.
A squirrel skittered across their path, and the young man’s eyes followed it, making Susannah’s heart speed up a bit. She knew that look…she’d seen it before, and she stared at the quiet young man as they walked, trying to figure him out. He stopped walking and stared at her without expression.
“What?” he asked, sounding more curious than defensive.
“Nothing,” she shook her head and kept walking. He fell back into step. “You like animals?” she asked casually.
A non-committal shrug was the only response.
“Got any pets?” she tried again.
“No.”
“Le Chateau isn’t your only job, is it, Tanner?”
“Nope.”
“Where else do you work?” the introverted chef was quite the inquisitor at the moment, stepping out of her self-imposed shell to find out more about this young man who inexplicably fascinated her.
“Dr. Dobbins’ office.”
A slow smile slid across Susannah’s face, as she put two and two together.
“You like it there?”
Another shrug. “It’s money.”
“How do you feel about your boss?”
Another sidelong glance from the young man.
“He’s okay, I guess. He’s only there for the money too.”
“What do you mean?”
“He gives really sick animals these bogus “supplements,” when they really should just be put out of their misery. The stuff is really expensive, and if you read the ingredient list, it’s just like a bunch of chopped up weeds or something.”
“What kind of person would do such a thing?” Susannah wondered, watching Tanner closely.
“I don’t judge.”
“I don’t either, but don’t you wish you could…do something? To help the poor animals, I mean.”
The Quiet Type Page 9