Black Widow

by Victor Methos

  The study had a desk with a computer and massive bookshelves that took up two walls. Stanton noticed biographies of Hitler and Stalin, works by Machiavelli and Balzac, and a slew of psychiatric and medical texts. He walked over to the computer. A Post-it note was on the screen. It said, PRESS ANY BUTTON, JON.

  His heart dropped. He swallowed, and pressed the ENTER key.

  49

  Autumn locked the doors to Baby Dolls at nearly three in the morning. She would be back tomorrow at noon to do it all over again. But for the rest of the morning, she was just an average single mom.

  The morning was the part of her day she loved best. She would drop her son Austin to school and then run errands. Groceries, house cleaning, setting up landscapers or plumbers or exterminators to come out. Sometimes she’d volunteer at Austin’s school and spend the morning there, going in late to work. She’d meet single fathers who would hit on her at the school, knowing somehow that the ring on her wedding ring finger was just there to ward off most men. Or maybe they didn’t know that? They just didn’t care if she was married or not.

  Most mornings, she felt normal. She felt like any other parent just trying to get by. It was only in the evenings that it was manifest to her how deviant her life really was.

  The majority of men didn’t have specific tastes in women. They would sleep with anyone as long as no one else found out. But a good chunk of men had very, very unique tastes. That was what she catered to.

  Some of her clients wanted Asian she-males. Some wanted blondes with dark pubic hair. Some wanted athletes that were with them only after they had worked out and built up a sweat. Some men enjoyed pain, and others enjoyed inflicting it. Just when she thought she had seen every sexual deviance that people could display, she would be surprised. A man just tonight had asked for two pregnant women. He wanted them to spray him down with breast milk in bed.

  As she got to her car, the hairs on her neck stood up and she was aware that someone was behind her. She turned and no one was there. Turning back around, she walked to the driver side door and inserted her key. In the window, a face looked back at her from behind her shoulder.

  She jumped and turned around, her heart in her throat. Heidi stood there with a smile on her face.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” Autumn said.

  “Were you?” Heidi replied, taking a couple steps closer.

  Autumn took a step back but she was pressed against her car and couldn’t go any farther. “That detective was here looking for you.”

  “I know. I also know you told him where I was.”

  “No, never. I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “Really?” Heidi took out a digital recorder.

  She pressed a button, and Autumn heard Jon Stanton’s voice right before he fired his gun. Before she told him where Heidi Rousseau lived. Baby Dolls had apparently been bugged.

  “I knew you’d get away,” Autumn stammered. “That’s why I did that. I knew where you really were, too. I didn’t say anything about that.”

  She nodded, a grin on her face. “I know.”

  “Heidi, if I wanted him to find you, I knew where you were. I just gave him your condo because you wouldn’t be there.”

  Heidi stepped close to her, close enough that she pushed into her. Autumn didn’t move. Heidi’s hand came up and caressed her cheek before she leaned in and kissed her. “So pretty,” Heidi said.

  “I didn’t tell him anything,” she whispered. “I love you. I would never betray you.”

  “I planned on you telling them about the condo. Don’t worry, I don’t care about that.”

  Autumn felt relief come down onto her shoulders and wash over the rest of her body. She almost collapsed from it and had to lean against the car.

  “But, you are a loose end. And you know how I hate loose ends.”

  “No. Heidi, no!”

  A scalpel tore across her neck. It was aimed for her throat but she jerked back at the last moment as the blade cut through the base of her neck and part of her shoulder. Autumn pushed Heidi at the chest.

  She tried to run but felt the air rush out of her. She couldn’t suck in breath. A burning pain shot through her that made her see stars. The scalpel was sticking out of her kidney. Heidi pulled it out and thrust it into her liver.

  Black blood poured out of Autumn and she collapsed against the car. Heidi reached inside of her. Autumn could feel her fingers on the liver, tugging at it.

  “Thing about the liver is that you’ll actually survive, briefly. You’ll know you’re dying, and the pain will be unbearable, but you won’t be able to do anything about it.”

  She ripped out the slick organ and laid it on the pavement. Autumn couldn’t scream. She could do nothing but gasp, taking in a series of small breaths. Each one more painful than the last. Heidi ran her wet fingers over Autumn’s face. She kissed her again and then walked away.

  Autumn went to pull out her cell phone. Her movements were slow and it was like she was stabbed over again with even a mild action of her body. Slowly, she leaned to the side, pressing one hand against the wound in her abdomen to try to slow the bleeding.

  She gripped the phone with two fingers and pulled it out. It was like her insides were burning, as if someone had shoved hot coals in her stomach and she was melting from the inside out. The blood loss was making her dizzy. She tried to scream for help but even the lightest noise nearly made her black out with pain.

  She laid her head back against the car. As long as she lay still, it wasn’t the worst death she could think of. It was almost… peaceful. Her life slowly leaking out of her. A strong urge to sleep came over her and she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. She glanced down at her phone and the image of her son she had as a screen saver.

  Blood trickled across it, smearing him from view.

  50

  The computer flashed on. A media player was open. Heidi’s face was on it, frozen and staring at him. He pressed the PLAY button.

  “Hi Jon, so glad you could make it. I am glad, as are your boys, that you didn’t get the police involved. But finding me is not part of the plan. I told you, a plane to Mexico. That’s the bargain.” She leaned in closer to the camera. “I’m smarter than you. You can’t beat me. Even with my sister’s help. Call me on my cell as soon as you have a plane secured. Oh, and don’t bother tracing the cell. It’s re-signaled through several towers. I think it shows me somewhere in Thailand.”

  The video ended. Heather heard it and came over, standing next to the desk.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “She could get a plane herself. Just charter a private company. Why does she want me to do it?”

  “It’s part of the game. She could get away anytime, but where’s the fun in that? She wants to play.”

  “This isn’t play,” he said louder than he would’ve liked. Heather recoiled, and he felt guilty he’d startled her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m used to it,” she said, glancing away.

  “Where else could she be? Can you think of anywhere?”

  Heather shook her head. “I didn’t know she was here until you told me.”

  “How long have you been on the island?”

  “Two years.”

  “And she never made contact with you? You never ran into her anywhere?”

  She shook her head again.

  Stanton took a deep breath and then leaned back in the leather chair. He put his hands on top of his head, as though he’d just run a marathon and needed his lungs at full capacity to keep from passing out. “She’s got more property here. If she’s that rich, she has to have more property. But it wouldn’t be in her name. I’ll bet if we ran Teresa Hayes through the system, this is the only property we’d find. She has to use another name. One for each property to make it more difficult to trace.”

  He rose and stretched. “I don’t think it’s safe at your house or mine. We have to find somewhere else.”

  “Like a hotel?”

&
nbsp; “No,” Stanton said. The thought of it didn’t sit well with him. “I have a friend whose house we can crash at.”

  They drove a good forty minutes, across the island. H1 was nearly empty and they made good time. The stars sparkled above them until the dust of morning came and began graying them out. Light drifted up from the east, and Stanton found he didn’t have to have his headlights on.

  The windows were down and the wind was blowing Heather’s hair wildly. He watched her a second before turning his attention back to the road. She was a perfect woman. One that had the ability to become whatever her mate wanted her to. Heidi was that way, too. Both of them had learned that, in the end, men were the easier gender to read and could be manipulated by showing them what they wanted to see.

  “Who is this friend?” Heather said.

  “Someone I met when I first moved out here. He was a Zen instructor of mine.”

  They pulled down a dirt road and up a path through the jungle. Another ten minutes on that road led to a hill before they came to a secluded house overlooking the ocean. Stanton parked in front and said, “Wait here.”

  He walked to the front door and knocked. Footsteps came from inside the house. A moment later, a man in shorts with his shirt off answered. His hair was long and gray and his skin was darkly tanned.

  “Jon? What the fuck you doin’ out here?”

  “I need your help, Rick. We need somewhere to crash for a day or two.”

  “Yeah, man. Of course. What’s goin’ on?”

  “Long story.” Stanton turned to Heather and motioned for her to come in. When she stepped around the car, Rick whistled.

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  Rick’s home was decorated the way a man’s home would be if all he did was surf. Posters dating back to the sixties were up on the walls, the furniture was wicker, and the fridge had nothing but beer and cold pizza.

  Rick warmed some of the pizza in the oven and brought out a beer and a Coke. He gave the Coke to Stanton and then sat down across from him. Stanton recounted everything that had happened.

  When he was through, Rick just nodded and said, “If ever there was a time.” He pulled out a joint and lit it with a lighter that was on the coffee table. He offered some to Stanton, who declined, but Heather took a couple puffs before handing it back.

  “Well, my question is, why the hell you a cop again?” Rick said.

  He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. My psychiatrist is nervous I have a death wish.”

  “Shit, man. More pleasant ways to die than bein’ gunned down by some junkie. You sure you don’t want any?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Well, mi casa es su casa. Make yourselves at home.”

  “Thanks, Rick. I won’t forget it.”

  “No worries, bra.” He took a few more puffs and then rose. “I’m headin’ out a while. I won’t be back for a few hours.”

  “Hot date?”

  “You could say that. I’m hangin’ out with my nieces. My sister’s always buggin’ me to come down so I thought I’d hit them up. Spare bedroom’s upstairs.” He looked between them and grinned. “Only got one.”

  “We’ll make do. Thanks.”

  Stanton walked Rick to the door. Rick turned around on the porch and said, “Woman like that… she could make a man forget all his principles.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He strolled out to a beat-up blue pickup truck and drove off. Stanton shut the door and went back to the front room. Heather was out on the back patio overlooking the ocean. The wind was strong up there and it blew her skirt high on her legs.

  He came up next to her and leaned against the railing. The ocean was churning with the wind in swirling pools.

  “I’ve been on the island two years,” she said, “and I can never get over how beautiful it is.”

  Stanton watched her. The sun hit her in just the right way to light up one side of her face, the other still in shadow. Her makeup had worn away, but the underlying beauty was still there. Nature had selected her to be one of the most alluring women. Stanton couldn’t decide if that would be a curse or a blessing.

  A flock of birds flew by overhead. He couldn’t tell what kind, but they were white with blue stripes down the side. “It’s not fair of me to put you in danger, and I’m sorry for that. If you want to leave…”

  “No, this is my burden,” she said. “It shouldn’t have been yours.”

  “Are your parents still alive?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Just wondering if they might have some impact with her.”

  “They died a couple years apart. My father from liver failure and my mother from heart congestion. Not the healthiest couple. My dad used to smoke three packs a day. We’d be in the living room and my mom would tell him to smoke outside and he’d say it was a government conspiracy. That cigarettes were never proven to be harmful. Keep in mind he was a physician saying that, so you can see how addicted he must’ve been.”

  “Cigarette companies used to use doctors in their commercials. They had the health professionals in their pockets. That entire generation grew up thinking it wasn’t harmful at all.”

  “And they ended up dying for it. I wonder what’s like that now? What we’re doing to ourselves that twenty years from now we’re going to find out is killing us?”

  “Probably anything that feels or tastes good.”

  She grinned. A beat passed between them, the wind howling in the mountains. “You’re not like a regular cop. I know all the Vice guys and you’re not like them.”

  “It takes a special kind of cop to be Vice, I think. I can’t do it. I was transferred in once and transferred out the same day. They wanted me to survey porn studios while they were in session and make sure all the girls were of age. I told them I couldn’t do that, couldn’t watch porn being made. So they wanted me to go get massages from… well, working girls.”

  “You can say prostitute. It doesn’t offend me. I’m not one of those girls who’s in denial about what she’s doing. I get paid to have sex. There’s no rationalizing around that.”

  Stanton was quiet a moment and they watched the waves. “Why did you get into it? The job thing doesn’t make sense.”

  She hesitated. “I move so much… I just got sick of getting my hopes up. I’d get work and Heidi would destroy it. I’d find something else and she’d let me keep it for a long time. And then one day they’d call me and say I was fired. She’d go in and pretend she was me and grope the boss, or do coke on my desk in front of everyone. She always thought that was funny. When people thought I was her. I guess because we’re so different.”

  “This’ll be over soon. I won’t let her get away.”

  Stanton checked the clock on his phone. It was fifteen past seven. The county recorder’s office didn’t open until nine, but it’d take him an hour to get there.

  “You’ll be safe here. I’ll be back later.”

  “Where you going?”

  “The recorder’s office to search some names.”

  “Like what?”

  He looked out over the ocean one more time before turning away. “Just a hunch I have.”

  51

  The county clerk’s office, where the recorder was, sat in a white building on King Street. Most government buildings Stanton had been to were ugly. The colors were off or the shape was displeasing or the architecture was about fifty years behind the times. The reason was that government buildings, from the architect to the guy pouring cement, were done on bids. If the bid process was clean, the lowest bidder—meaning the cheapest company willing to cut the most corners—won. If the bid process wasn’t clean, then whoever had the most pull won. Either way, neither company was ever the one most qualified for the job.

  But the clerk’s office wasn’t bad. It had red Spanish tiles and was surrounded by palm trees. The doorways had ornate native designs carved into them. Few people were here and the streets were relatively empty.

&nb
sp; Stanton parked in front. He leaned back in the seat. Fatigue was eating away at him. He was once used to long shifts. Frequently, at the San Diego Homicide table, he would pull thirty-six hour shifts. If he had more than a couple of calls, that meant he was up the entire thirty-six.

  But that seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, he felt age creeping up on him.

  He set the alarm on his phone to wake him up in an hour. His eyes were closed no more than a few minutes before he drifted off, and was gone.

  When Stanton woke to the beeping of his phone, he didn’t know where he was. He surveyed his surroundings as the memories from the last few hours poured into him. A woman was standing next to his car about six feet out, staring in. She had a look on her face like she was watching some perversion taking place. Stanton grinned at her as he stepped out of the car. She turned away and kept walking up the street.

  Stanton strode into the clerk’s office and saw a sign for the county recorder. He followed it down a linoleum hallway, passing wooden double-doors along the way. Another sign pointed downward and he took the stairs. The recorder’s office was in the basement.

  Opening the door, he was hit with the smell of coffee. So much of it that he thought his clothes would stink after he left. He stood behind the counter. A bell was on it with a slip of paper that had “Ring for service,” scrawled in marker across it. He rang the bell and waited.

  Within half a minute, a woman came around the corner. She was larger and still chewing whatever she was eating back there.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to run some checks of properties, please. Two names.”

  “That’ll be seven dollars each.”

  Stanton pulled out his badge. “Even for law enforcement?”

  The woman said sternly, “Yes, even for cops. Fourteen dollars.”

  Stanton knew if he pushed the issue and asked to speak with a manager, he might be able to get around the fourteen-dollar fee. But he didn’t have the time for that now. He wanted this done as quickly as possible. He lay a twenty on the counter and she gave him back a five and a one and said, “It’ll be about ten minutes.” She shoved a clipboard with an information sheet to him. “Fill this out.”