Dumb Blonde

by AJ Scudiere

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  Dumb Blonde, Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2007 by AJ Scudiere

  Griffyn Ink. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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  A shadow passed by in the upstairs window.

  Out on her deck, Missy lifted her wide sunglasses to get a better look. But she couldn’t see anything beyond the curtains even though she squinted. And she wasn’t about to get up and mess up this perfect day.

  The forecast had called for the first eighty-degree weather of the year; the sky was almost too blue and the sun was making the day warm and balmy. So, first thing, she’d called in sick to work. Now she was out on her lounge chair, in her white string bikini, working on a nice start to her tan. A shadow in her window wasn’t going to bother her. Besides, it was probably just Freddie, her cat. Although he wasn’t supposed to, Freddie ran free all over the house. If she got up to check every time he knocked something over or klutzed his way into making a mess, she’d never enjoy the day.

  Missy sighed and rolled over. She was afraid she was starting to burn on her front. And that wouldn’t do. She was already likely to have some ‘splainin’ to do just because of the nice tan she’d show up with tomorrow. She’d put lemon juice in her hair, too, hoping to get some good white streaks going in her already very blonde locks. Hey, if she was going to show up tan, she might as well sport some bright highlights to go along with it, right?

  Face down on the chair now, Missy scootched a little and picked up her water bottle. She made sure she drank a lot on sunbathing days. She wasn’t going to get forced inside over dehydration. She wasn’t stupid.

  For a while she just lay there. She might have gone to sleep, except all her thoughts had been of Joe - big, strong, sexy, just-a-little-overbearing Joe. That meant she hadn’t slept. If she’d been asleep her brain would have wandered to Matt McConaughey or Justin Timberlake. She was a good girl, she was faithful to Joe, at least during her waking hours.

  Later, when her back was starting to feel a little stiff, and she was getting a little hungry, Missy peeled herself off the deck chair and stretched. She lifted her sunglasses and looked up at her bedroom window again. There was no shadow, but the curtains fluttered just a little to reveal Freddie, sitting in the window just as pretty as you please.

  Damn cat. Freddie really wasn’t allowed up there. Still, there was no one but herself to blame. She let him in her room all the time. And the worst punishment she’d ever been able to level at her poor kitty was to yell, “Bad cat!” and scootch him down the stairs.

  Dabbing at the slight sheen of perspiration on her forehead with her towel, Missy pulled back the sliding glass door, took one step into the house and stopped dead.

  As though she had stepped into a theater, music played loud enough to stir the air around her and make her blood run cold. The thrumming in her ears was a deep, repetitive sound that said in no uncertain terms “you are about to be killed.” With the next heavy beat, her eyes darted left then right, but she didn’t see anything. Her heart pounded in rhythm to the heady music. She took deep breath and figured she was just being stupid, but what if she wasn’t?

  The fact that there was music playing was scary enough, because she hadn’t left any on. Adding to the creep factor was the issue that she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. But the worst part was that it was horror movie music - those low sounds that told the listener the shark was right behind them. Or the slow creepy guy with the really sharp knife.

  Missy stayed rooted to the spot. What the hell should she do?

  Really, it was probably nothing. But damn was she going to feel like a moron when she got herself stabbed to death.

  Trying to think of a reasonable solution, Missy listened for the sounds of the house. But she couldn’t hear anything over the warning of the music. Or the heavy pulse of her blood.

  She had to get out. She didn’t want to make an idiot out of herself by running screaming, but how many movies had she seen like this? The girl always bit it. And badly, too. The music was getting to her.

  When she watched horror movies she always yelled at the girls. No, don’t go upstairs! Not by yourself! Don’t you HEAR THE MUSIC???

  Well, she heard the music. And she sure as hell was going to pay attention.

  Slowly - telling herself she might be a coward but at least she’d be a live one - Missy backed out onto her deck.

  Her stomach had gone from hungry to twisted the moment the music had kicked her system. Now her breathing was labored with the fear that had invaded her and her eyes squeezed tight as they failed to adjust back to the bright light. She wandered blind on her own porch and told herself that she certainly was not crying.

  Something touched her back.

  Giving a terrified yelp, Missy jumped to face her killer.

  Still sun-blind, she waved her hands randomly, trying to figure out what or who was threatening her. But all she succeeded in doing was jamming her finger. She gulped, unable to work up the scream she wanted.

  It was just as well. When she finally pried her eyes open she saw that she hadn’t been attacked by a cold-blooded killer after all. She’d smacked into her deck chair. Blinking away the tears and the terror, Missy coddled her finger. She sniffed. The pain would get better within a few minutes, a few hours at the worst, but she’d broken a nail and that was going to take a good week to grow out to anything decent.

  At least no one had seen her making a complete and utter ass out of herself.

  She shook her head and took a deep breath. She was a big girl, she lived alone here, and she wasn’t going to let some music - no matter how creepy - keep her out of her own house.

  Out at the edge of the deck, she steeled herself to go inside and figure out just what the music was. With a deep breath, she looked up and choked on her own breath.

  The curtain in her window fluttered again, the breeze picking up the sheers and billowing them right out the window.

  Only this time she realized what had been nagging at her before. She was pretty certain she hadn’t left the window open.

  God, was that the outline of a man?

  Missy turned and ran. Dropping the towel that she’d been holding, she scooped up her cell phone as she raced by, her bare feet pounding a rapid beat against the deck. She flew down the steps and ignored the sting of gravel ot her soles as she hightailed it to her car.

  She yanked frantically at the car door and didn’t notice that she’d broken another fingernail in the process. Diving in, Missy slapped the door shut behind her. Using her fist, she pounded the lock down, grateful that it engaged all the locks.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, shaking, watching for movement in the house, before she realized that she needed to act. She had no keys, no real clothes. Her eyes darted back and forth - she was certain a killer was going to pop up beside the car and flash a long blade, just before he slashed he
r to death. Maybe she’d recognize him.

  Her breathing wouldn’t even out. Without keys, she couldn’t drive away, and if the killer found her, all he’d have to do is go back inside and grab them. Missy huffed, she was never going to keep them on the hook labeled ‘keys’ again. That just made her easy bait. If the killer went back for them it was all over. Keys trumped a pounded lock any day and her only other option was to run.

  Even as she looked for another way, Missy could only see woods to the back of the house and empty neighborhood in front of her. Everyone in the neighborhood had gone to work like good little citizens. Besides, if she ran, it would only end badly. The white bikini didn’t bode well for her chances of getting out of this alive.

  So she took the only option she could. With a shaky hand, she dialed nine-one-one.

  It took fifteen long minutes for the law to arrive. By then, Missy was furious. If the killer had come after her, she’d either be dead by now, or crashing through the woods with a crazed psychopath at her heels, only to die just before the boys in blue could get to her.

  Missy slung the car door open and stepped out, planting her hands on her hips and setting her feet wide. The blue uniforms clung to the two officers, the heat of the day making the men sweat just a little, making them at least look like they’d run over here in a hurry. Since it had taken fifteen minutes to get here and Beaufort was only ten minutes wide, Missy ignored the appearance of things and greeted them accordingly. “Boys.”

  “Hey, baby, you look good. Is your hair lighter?”

  “Joe.” She didn’t bother to say more while he looked her up and down.

  Beech, his partner, smiled in a way that was meant to say he was looking but he wasn’t horning in on Joe’s territory. More, it looked like he was just blatantly ogling her.

  When she’d had more than enough, Missy snapped her fingers in their faces. “Are you done, boys? I think there’s someone in my house. Are you ready to be real police officers and check it out?”

  Joe finally looked at her eyes. “You actually see someone? Because the report just said you heard music.”

  Forced to tell them what she’d imagined she’d seen made Missy feel a little stupid. But that was still better than being hacked to death.

  Beech tugged his little patrol cap off and scratched at the back of his head while he scruched his face into a look even more unappealing than his regular expression. “We don’t get many calls to investigate music, Missy.”

  You don’t get many calls, period. she thought, but kept that to herself. Instead she went back into defense mode, feeling much safer now that her boys in blue were here. “I didn’t leave the stereo on. And I don’t think I left my window open either. I saw something up there.”

  Joe looked at her again. “Could it have been Freddie?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded, some sense of honesty forcing her to. Damned honesty.

  With a deep sigh that let her know in no uncertain terms that she’d interrupted his day, Joe tapped Beech on the arm and they headed toward the open back screen door.

  Missy followed, trying not to yelp each time she stepped on a piece of gravel. She was grateful when they passed onto the grassy area and then went up the deck stairs. She should have kept her fat mouth shut, but she said, “Don’t you want your guns out?”

  Beech laughed, “Missy, even if the music was hostile I don’t think shooting at it would really help.”

  She turned to her boyfriend. “Joe?”

  He gave her a wink and theatrically unsnapped and lifted his weapon. Like he thought she’d find it sexy that he was patronizing her.

  Beech stood at the threshold, “Now Missy, tell me exactly what happened.”

  She again recounted the fluttering curtains and stepping inside to hear the music.

  This time he outright laughed. “So you heard some scary music and you called the cops? You know Chief Winslow doesn’t like you calling in for things like this.”

  Her mouth fell open for a minute. Protect and serve, my ass! More like mock and deride. Then she found her voice. “Look, I’m five feet tall. I’m blonde-haired and blue-eyed. I’m wearing a white bikini and I’m alone. What I’m not is stupid! So when I walked in and heard the music I didn’t think my chances were very good and I called the cops.”

  Joe tugged at Beech’s sleeve like they’d better get to it. The two men only half-assed covering each other’s backs against a threat they had already concluded didn’t exist. Missy held back as they headed for the stairs before deciding she didn’t want to be left here alone. Quickly she jumped to follow them.

  The boys opened doors and checked out closets methodically if not thoroughly, saving her bedroom for last. Before he twisted the knob, Joe looked back at her, grinning. “Anything in here that Beech shouldn’t see?”

  Missy clenched her teeth. “Of course not.”

  She waved her hand, motioning them inside. She’d only barely stopped herself from adding you know that to the end of the sentence. Then she wondered if that was what Joe had wanted her to say. She crossed her arms while they peeked around corners and into her shower stall. Then Joe turned back to her and shrugged. “Nothing.”

  Missy protested. “Joe, it doesn’t look right.” She scanned the room. “Things have been moved.”

  “Missy, Freddie’s up here all the time. He’s always pawing at your stuff. You know that.”

  She did know that. “But I didn’t leave the window open. I’m certain of it!”

  Or was she? When had she gotten certain? Missy braced herself for Joe’s snide remark when they all heard the back door open.

  A strangled sound escaped her lips, but she was too late. Joe and Beech had already hightailed it downstairs in pursuit of whoever had opened the back door. She waited, listening for the sounds of the two officers being hacked to death, consoling herself over her own murder that at least she’d been right. Then her ‘fight or flight’ response kicked in and Missy’s feet fled after them. She barreled down the stairs blindly and nearly slammed into Beech’s back as she hit the bottom.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut until she heard a familiar voice.

  Cautiously opening one eye, Missy startled at what she saw. “What are you doing here, Ted?”

  In his dress blues, just like the other cops, Ted somehow managed to be a ‘man’ to their ‘boys’.

  “I heard the call on the scanner and was close. I wanted to come by and be sure these two were taking good care of you.” He smiled like he meant it.

  Which clearly pissed Joe off. He tromped off to the living room and returned with Freddie dangling limply from his hand before anyone could form a sentence. “Missy’s cat here turned on her stereo and the music freaked her out.”

  His eyes told Ted to butt out.

  But Missy couldn’t believe he was writing her off like that and being such an ass in front of the other guys. She was so going to break up with him the next time they were alone. That would earn her a black mark with the whole Beaufort police department. All ten of them. But still. This wasn’t right.

  Only Ted picked up on that. “Seems to me Missy thinks it’s a little more than that. Or she wouldn’t have called.”

  She smiled sweetly, at least someone was paying attention. “Thank you, Ted.” She turned all her attention to him, thinking that he was better looking than she had previously given him credit for, and she wondered if his wife appreciated him. “I was sunbathing and I thought I saw something up in my window, when I came inside I heard the music. Well, I’ve seen those movies and I know what happens to girls like me when that music comes on, so I called it in.”

  Ted nodded, but it was Joe who started speaking. Worse, he was gesturing with Freddie still hanging limply from his hand. “She watches horror movies all the time. She’s got it on the brain. She even named her cat here after Freddie Kruger.” He held up the very defeated looking Freddie.

  Missy protested. “I’ve seen the scratches he’s given you. With those claws, ‘
Freddie Kruger’ is the only name that suits him!”

  Joe still didn’t speak to her. “She’s got an overactive imagination, Ted.”

  “Uh!” ungraceful and indignant, it came out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Someone’s on the loose, and I’m not going to be next. Are you suggesting that I’m imagining all those murders in Mobile?”

  When Joe finally turned to look at her, it was with pure condescension in his eyes.

  The moron didn’t know it yet but he’d just become single.

  “Look Missy, ‘all those murders’ is three. And they were in Mobile, not Beaufort.”

  “You can get to Mobile from here, Joe, and it doesn’t take too long.”

  Joe sighed and turned to Ted. “There’s no one here.”

  Unceremoniously, he dumped Freddie to the ground.

  Ted turned back to her, for which Missy was grateful. “Well, if you’re all right, I’m going to head out.”

  Missy nodded. She’d had about all she could take for one day. At least they’d checked the house and there wasn’t anyone in it.

  Beech barely nodded at her, “We got somewhere to be.”

  Yeah, Treat’s Donuts was likely on the scanner, wondering where they were.

  Joe leaned down for a kiss, but she refused him. “Don’t you boys worry about me. I’ll just stay up tonight with my gun.”

  Joe laughed at that and turned to Beech. “I should never have taken her to the firing range. She scares me.” Without looking back or caring that he’d just flat-out insulted her, he called out to Ted, who was already down the stairs and halfway across the back yard. “Where’s your car? We’ll walk out with you.”

  Ted just called back. “I’m through the woods. Over on Cedar. It was faster to just walk through than drive around.” He waved and disappeared into the trees.

  Neither Joe nor Beech even turned back to her as they climbed into their cruiser and headed off down the street.

  Pissed off and angry, Missy traipsed back up the stairs to change. Joe was going to get his sweet ass dumped big time when he came over later. God, what a jerk he’d been.