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Under the cold Stones

Page 17

by McNay, Dan


  “You’ve done this before.”

  He nodded. He started to kiss her forehead but she jerked away. He left.

  * * *

  After she heard the car drive away, she forced herself to get up. She was very wobbly and almost fell over. The flimsy little nightie was just irritating and she was cold. She thought to get into his closet to see if she could find something to wear so she shuffled over to what appeared to be closet doors. The shackles were heavy and constrained her walk. The closets were all locked. She came back and managed to pull the comforter all the way off the bed. Then she had to sit down and rest and catch her breath. The blanket that was now exposed was just as large but wasn’t as heavy or bulky. She managed to get it free and wrapped it around herself. It was a lot of fabric to trail, but at least she wasn’t cold.

  She was as weak as a kitten. She had to sit down and rest again. Damn him! She hoped the baby was still ok. She was ready to lay down again and sleep, but resisted the urge. She finally got to her feet once more and shuffled out to the living room. She made it to the couch and stopped to rest again. There had to be some way out of this. Maybe when the maid appeared, she could figure something out.

  She finally got up again and explored the house, looking for the controls for the front gate or anything that could help. There were no tools to be found – no way to cut the shackles off. No keys anywhere. Nothing that could be used as a weapon, except for some smallish kitchen knives. Not even a telephone. The front of the house was locked up, but she could go out to the pool and there was a small gate that she could get over by getting on a chair. – that would get her out front. There was no way through the gate. She went back to the couch to rest.

  A car came in the gate and parked in front. It was the maid. She came in the front and locked it behind her. Daydee hid her shackles under the blanket. The woman came into the living room.

  “Good morning,” Daydee said to her.

  The woman looked away without answering. She was a short Hispanic woman in her forties. She looked so much like those illegal women Daydee had helped it was saddening.

  “You know this is against the law, don’t you? You could go to jail.”

  “No lo sé.”

  Daydee shook her head.

  “I have money I can give you to help me get out of here,” she said suddenly.

  “No puedo eviter.”

  “A thousand?”

  She hesitated but looked scared. “Sin dinero,” she mumbled.

  “I’m pregnant, for God’s sake.”

  “No puedo eviter.”

  “Can you find me some clothes to wear. I’m cold.”

  “No lo sé.”

  Daydee waited until the woman was cleaning the bathroom off the master bedroom. She got up and shuffled into the kitchen. She found a waste basket and wadded paper towels into it, made a wand out of several sheets and then turned on all the burners of the stove. She took off her blanket and wadded it up on the stove top. Starting her wand on fire, she dropped it into the waste basket and carried it all out to dump on the couch. There was a good blaze going on the stove and a little one started on the couch. Smoke drifted out of the kitchen.

  She went outside to the pool area, pulled a chair over to the gate and jumped up. All of this was in slow motion because of the shackles. Balancing on her bare bottom on the steel rail of the gate, she swung her feet and ankles over ahead of her. The shackles got momentarily caught, but she was able to get them loose. She tumbled down to the concrete on the other side, bruising her knees and hands. She got up as quickly as she could. The woman would be on her. She wouldn’t be able to run away from her. Turning the corner of the house, she followed the walkway around to the front. She wasn’t sure what to do now. If she tried the car the woman would probably spot her and grab her. She was naked for the whole world to see. The car windows were open. The keys were not going to be in the car, but there might be something in the trunk to cover herself with. The front windows of the house were filled with smoke. She waddled over and crouched behind the car and made her way on hands and knees to the driver’s side. She found the trunk release and crawled back to it.

  There were sirens off in the distance. The maid had called – she knew where the phone had been hidden. The blaze was winning. There was a dirty blanket in the trunk. She wrapped it around her and shuffled over to the bushes beside the gate. She got there and managed to hide just as the woman came running out the front door. The gates swung open. Daydee waited. The woman would see her. But she wasn’t doing anything. The sirens blared louder.

  Daydee stood and tried to make it out. The woman was letting her leave.

  “You should have taken the money,” Daydee called.

  The sirens were upon them – just at the end of the drive. Daydee scrambled off the driveway as the tires of the big truck screeched by her. She fell on her knees in the grass and scrambled for the bushes. No one saw her, she hoped.

  The firemen were out of the truck. Had they hit the woman by accident? It was hard to see. They were all crowded around her, either keeping her on the ground as a precaution or they were trying to treat her injuries. A stretcher was brought up and they moved her onto it and carried her out of the way. Smoke was rolling out of the house at this point. The trucks pulled on inside the gate and the firemen went to work on the house. No one had noticed Daydee.

  She crawled away carefully until she thought it was safe to stand, and she began to shuffle out to the highway. The whole thing was too crazy to try to go to the firemen for help. The shackles would just fit in with the other rumors the town already had about her kinky sex with the accountant. The maid might be awake and would tell them she started the fire. Her word against Edward’s maid wasn’t going to fly in this town. She had a bit of a distance to go to get home. She would struggle to the next place that she could remain somewhat hidden and then look up and down the road and then try to hurry to another spot to hide.

  A familiar car came down the road. She tried to hide, but it pulled up beside her.

  “Deidra.” It was Winston. “Come on, get in the car. I’ll take you home.”

  She struggled across to him and climbed in. He looked at her as she pulled the blanket closer around her.

  “Don’t say a word,” she told him. She was tearing up. “Thank you for showing up.”

  “I’ve been out looking for you since yesterday. I have the rest of the money for the plot. I told you not to get together with him.”

  “Guess what, you were right.”

  He helped her into her house. The front was locked, but she had hidden a key under a rock out by the street. Winston was kind. He found her a robe to put on and brought her a cup of tea and went to work on the shackles with the hacksaw. It was slow going, but he finally got them off after fussing about an hour. A hammer and screwdriver were needed too. He tried hard not to cut her or bruise her. After she was free, she went to take a shower and nursed her scraped knees and palms and elbows. She dressed and came out to find that he had made them some lunch – tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

  They ate.

  “So what do you think he’ll do next?” she asked.

  “He’ll be over here. He will want you back.”

  “He’s really sick. He wanted me unconscious to fuck me. What kind of fun is that?”

  “It’s like the first time,” Winston said quietly.

  “I tried to convince myself that it was something else. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.” She wanted to make a wisecrack, but she couldn’t think of any. She sighed.

  “I guess it’s a war now,” she said.

  * * *

  After lunch, she had Winston drive her to the dog pound where she adopted the biggest meanest animal she could find. It was a mongrel male German Shepherd. They went to a pet store and bought a dog house and chain and food and returned to install the dog on the front porch with chain that would let it get almost to the sidewalk. The dog did what it was supposed to do. A
car driving by sending it running out, barking its head off. She hugged it and gave it treats. She knew she needed the shotgun out at the cemetery. And she suddenly realized that she hadn’t seen her father in a couple of days. Shit! He was probably starving. Loading the dog into the back of the pickup, she had Winston drive her to a McDonald’s and then out to the cemetery so she could bring him dinner. Winston waited at the car. The dog took to it like he had been riding around in the back of a truck his whole life. She was almost tempted to let him off the leash, but was afraid he might run off. She bought lunch for it and herself as well and walked it down to the grove of trees. Her father was just sitting on a log as if it was a bus stop and he was waiting for the bus to come along now any minute. Her father just accepted the bag being handed to him. He seemed intrigued by the dog. She unwrapped the other hamburger and laid it down for the dog and it was gulped down in one swallow. She put down the fries and those disappeared immediately too.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t bring lunch for a couple of days. I was under the weather.”

  “Sicky baby. Wail and tale.”

  “You like my new dog?”

  Her father reached out and scratched the dog’s head. The dog stuck its nose at her father’s hamburger. He held it out of reach.

  “Him sniff and sniff. Good sniff. I like good sniffs.”

  “We need to name him,” she said.

  “Sniffy.”

  “How about a boy’s name,” she said, laughing. “I’m starting to make no sense myself.”

  “Snuffer.”

  “Snuffer, it is. I think he likes you.”

  “He likes sniffs.”

  She and Winston took the dog back to the house to feed it a real lunch. It gobbled up a big bowl of food as quickly as it did the hamburger.

  “Do you want me to stay tonight?” Winston asked her as she was putting the dog back on its chain out front. The dog was back at leaping about at the end of his chain.

  “What are you expecting?” she asked.

  “You know. Edward. I’m trying to make amends.”

  She looked him up and down.

  “I’m sorry for what’s happened to you,” he said.

  “All right.”

  * * *

  Daydee made him a bed on the couch. She didn’t really expect to be able to sleep much anyway and wore her robe to bed just in case. The dog woke her up in the middle of the night. He was barking his head off. Grabbing the shotgun in the corner, she went out to the living room. Winston was awake as well. He looked lost like he wasn’t sure what to do. Some protector. She snuck a peek out the front drapes. Edward was standing out front, just beyond the length of the dog’s chain. She could shoot him now and get it over with. He didn’t look armed. It was a warm night. He didn’t have a jacket to hide a pistol in.

  “It’s him?” Winston asked, rubbing his eyes.

  She nodded.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “Call the sheriff.”

  She opened the front door and went outside with the shotgun. The dog was leaping and barking at him. He wasn’t even flinching.

  “Winston is inside. He’s calling the sheriff.”

  “You wrecked my kitchen. Do you realize what it’s going to cost to fix it?”

  “Edward, go away.”

  He reached behind his back and pulled a revolver out. Aiming at the dog’s head, he squeezed the trigger. It collapsed, the top of its head opened and splattered.

  “Christ!” she screamed.

  She fired the shotgun at his foot. Her aim was off, it hit his shoe, but there was no blood. He jumped back.

  “Drop the gun or you are dead!” she shouted.

  He stopped, stared her down and put the gun away behind his back and then turned and walked across the street to his car. She could kill him now. Now. He drove away. She went over to where the dog lay. She bent down to stroke its side. God. This was her fault.

  She went back inside to wait for the sheriff or someone to show up. Winston had called and got the night switchboard operator. About a half hour later, the sheriff himself drove up. He was out of uniform. And didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. Daydee and Winston went out to meet him where the dog lay. She told him what happened.

  “There was a fire over at Edward’s house. You don’t know anything about that, do you?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Edward will just say the dog attacked him.”

  “The dog was chained up. It was at the end of the length right here.” Daydee told him. “You really aren’t going to do anything about this?”

  “This is a small town. People get worked up. A mail box gets trashed. Somebody’s tires get slashed. Lots of dogs get shot here. You want to file a complaint, come down to the office in the morning and we’ll file it. It didn’t work out between you two?”

  “No.”

  “Well, if the smoke clears, I’d still like to take you out. I’m a good guy.”

  “You are kidding.”

  “Sorry about your dog.”

  He climbed back in his car and left. She asked Winston to help her throw the dog in the garbage can. They did it, but she couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. She got up and pulled her suitcase out of the closet. In the bottom was a ragged hardback copy of Gone With The Wind. It had sat on the top of her refrigerator in New Orleans for years. Men wouldn’t touch it. Except John. He reached for it once and she quickly told him not to touch it, that it had belonged to her mother. Inside, in a custom cutout in the pages, was the little Ruger 38. It had never been fired. The bullets were in a velvet jewelry bag underneath the gun. She loaded it and figured out how to switch the safety off. The gun had been a present. From a big Italian who was probably Mafia. She put it under her pillow and tried to sleep. She dreamt of the dog.

  Chapter fourteen

  Winston left after breakfast, saying he’d check in on her later in the day.

  “The dog wasn’t your fault,” he said as he was out the door.

  She called the doctor’s office and made an emergency appointment. She lied about spotting, so they would take her and not send her to whatever they called an emergency room here. Whatever Edward had given her was a concern and the penetration wasn’t a great thing either. She carried the shotgun to the pickup when she left to go, feeling a little foolish. To have to lock it in the truck while she was inside seeing the doctor now seemed odd. She never locked the truck anymore.

  It was a different doctor. Older and seemingly a little absent-minded. He told her everything looked good. The baby had a strong heartbeat. The ultrasound was fine. She was floating in there as happy as a clam. Blood was drawn and they would let her know the results. She didn’t repeat anything about spotting, so she guessed the receptionist hadn’t bothered to write it down for him. She was sure he would call her later and lecture her about drug use.

  There was a fleeting glance of what she thought was Edward’s car on her way home, so she circled the block but didn’t see any trace of him. She would shoot to kill next time. The phone was ringing when she came in. It was Winston. His wife had died that morning.

  “God, I’m so sorry,” she told him.

  “We knew it was coming.”

  “When do you want the funeral?”

  “I guess next Saturday. We don’t have to wait. There isn’t any family to wait for.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

  “Hey. I have to go.”

  So, she needed another burial vault. Winston hadn’t thought about buying one and it had slipped her mind as well. But it was expected. She would worry about the expense later. He would need a marker as well, which they hadn’t discussed either. If it had been anyone else, she would have called them back. She called the place in Terre Haute and ordered one for pick up the next day. Who was going to help her unload it? There was Sean. It was going to be too much for her now. She called him as well.

  * * *

  This was a big to do. Winston’s w
ife had been a teacher at the high school for years. Everyone had known her and loved her. The plot was close to the drive that circled around the cemetery so she wasn’t too nervous about screwing up the lawn. She wouldn’t have to go very far off the drive. This would be the first one without anyone helping. She had hired Sean to come over and unload the vault and get it into the ground. He had offered to do the grave as well, but she would be damned to let him play told you so and lord it over her about how he was the goddamn expert. She had practiced some more after they had unearthed the last of the Mexicans. So she was up early, chugging down the lane to open the grave. An hour later, it was done, a perfect hole. All the soil piled on a tarp a discreet distance away. She chugged back to the shed in time to meet Sean. They drove her pickup back down and he grunted over the vault and the railing and the winch to lower the casket as she set out folding chairs. Winston had said to expect fifty people.

  She left Sean and walked back over to the office to rest and draw up her marker order. She was sweaty and dirty and was generally feeling like the Goodyear Blimp. Edward’s car pulled up in front of the office. She grabbed the shotgun from the alcove and lay it across her desk. He came up to the screen and knocked.

  “All right, come in!” she said.

  He stepped in.

  “Yes?” she asked him.

  “I came to see if you had any second thoughts?”

  “You killed my dog. I have lots of thoughts. None about being nice to you.”

  “Well, maybe there would be a better time to talk. The damage to my house was a lesson well taken.”

  “Edward, go away.”

  “Who is the old man you stashed away down the hill?”

  She picked up the shotgun.

  “Excuse me, Miss Deidre,” Sean said from just outside the screen door. “You all right?”

  God bless the asshole.

  “I will kill you, Edward. You leave well enough alone.”

  “I’ll come back at a more convenient time.”

 

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