“I’ll do the world a favor by taking you out,” the woman said. “You’re nuts. You don’t deserve to be a mother.”
“What?” Annie asked.
“What!” Derrick exclaimed.
The two women grappled, kicked, slipped and landed on the wet tiled floor. The gun flew across the room into a far corner.
“What can I do?” Derrick asked.
The woman kneed Annie in the stomach.
“Oof!” Annie yelled. “Find a way to call 911. Say hello to the chick that killed you. Do you recognize her?”
“No! I can’t see her face with that hood. Stop playing cutesy and get rid of the hood.”
“Cutesy?” Annie said.
“Don’t you dare call me “cutesy”! I’m a professional,” the woman said. “What are you? Nothing but a family wrecker.”
“Cupcake killer!” Annie countered. “Why would anyone want to bear your child, Derrick?”
“It might be a good idea to be nice to me if you want me to save you.”
“Me, be nice? Kiss my—”
The woman slugged Annie across her face. Annie reeled. Her attacker grabbed the towel draped on her shoulder, wrapped it around Annie’s throat and strangled her from behind.
“I’m more than happy to tell you, 'Why?' she hissed into Annie’s ear. “Because I loved him, I believed in him and he promised me. He promised me, for years.”
Annie collapsed on the tiled floor, struggled, and tried her best to pull off the towel squeezed like a boa constrictor around her neck. She gurgled and eyed Derrick. “Ah die Dick – no Afa-Life fa you. Ah pomise,” Annie said. She pulled on the towel with both hands. But the woman, Derrick’s killer, had her in a chokehold.
Derrick flew out the steam room’s door and spotted Bootsy, nibbling a little trail mix and eyeing the scales. He leaned in and caressed her face. “It’s time, Bootsy. Do it. I promise. You lost a boat load of weight.”
Bootsy’s face turned red and she fanned herself. She put one foot on the scale, looked a little scared and took that foot off. She turned and headed for the healing waters.
Derrick jumped in front of her, grabbed her shoulders, jiggled his silver thong package. “No Bootsy! You’ve counted cals, cut out carbs, went on the cookie diet, walked a thousand miles on the treadmill, and even started an organic line of healthy diet foods. It’s time Boots. I promise you.”
Boots hesitated and looked back at the scales.
Annie choked from the towel wrapped like a vise around her neck. “Why me?” she squeaked. She knew it was a stupid question, but sometimes stupid questions bought time when the person killing you needed to vent.
“Because you and your idiot cheating husband mocked my dream. After twenty years of empty promises, even I had a breaking point. Frankly, your cheating husband, your blossoming bakery business and your desire to have a child made you, Dimwit, easy to frame.”
Annie grunted. Her eyesight blurred, perhaps due to the steam, or all the blood squeezing out of her brain. A vision of a big fat devil’s food cupcake appeared before her like it was on a high-def plasma TV big-screen. Annie knew that cupcake had no trans-fat, was completely healthy because it was wrapped in cellophane with a Piccolino’s pastry sticker on top. Her sticker, when she was still married, before her Valentine’s Day Major Life Debacle #12. It was probably a pre-death hallucination. Or was it…
An empathic hit? Devil’s Food Cupcakes. Piccolino’s pastries. Who knew Annie was a baker? Who wanted Derrick’s baby? Who thought she was easy to frame? Who knew Mike was cheating? Maybe someone else who was romantically involved with Derrick.
Bootsy Bauerfeld stood in front of a scale in the spa’s bathroom area. She took a deep breath.
“You can do it Bootsy,” Derrick whispered in her ear. He put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her toward the scale.
Bootsy kicked off her spa slippers. She took off her earrings, necklaces, rings, toe rings, ankle bracelets, and medic-alert bracelets and placed them on the counter next to her. She shrugged off her robe and wobbled naked toward the scale. Hesitated.
Derrick felt bad he hadn’t encouraged Bootsy to train with Ginger. “Jenny Craig’s sitting in a dark closet, shoving double stuffed Oreos down her throat and contemplating slitting her wrists. Do it. I am Dr. Derrick Fuller and I promise you.”
Bootsy stepped on the scale. Adjusted the first big marker. Adjusted the smaller marker. Stared at it and screamed out loud. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she exclaimed.
Derrick covered his ears. Then his eyes.
Distracted by Bootsy’s screams, Annie’s attacker turned her head and lightened her grip on the towel. Annie seized the opportunity, yanked the towel from around her neck and head butted the woman. She whip turned, grabbed the woman’s hood and tried to pull it off. “Who are you? Why did you kill Derrick? Why did you set me up?”
The woman kicked and resisted her. But the hood came off in stages. An inch, a little more. Another four inches revealed her attacker’s face.
Derrick poked his head back through the steam room’s door. “Jenny?”
Annie looked shocked. “Nurse Jennifer?”
Nurse Jennifer’s eyes were wild. Annie didn’t think the fight was out of her yet.
Neither did Derrick. “I’ve known Jenny for twenty years and she’s got a stubborn streak. I’d scream first and ask questions later.”
Annie screamed and Jennifer bolted. Already on her hands and knees, Annie slapped the floor of the steam room with both her hands until she found the gun.
Jennifer raced out of the steam room door and was into spa bathroom territory when Annie grabbed her ankle.
Bootsy was ecstatic and doing the naked happy dance when Annie grabbed Jennifer’s hair. Jennifer crashed to the ground next to Bootsy.
Annie crawled out of the steam room with the gun trained on Jennifer. “Bootsy Bauerfeld,” Annie said.
Booty’s eyes widened as she saw Annie with the gun. She stopped dancing.
“Huge congrats on the weight loss,” Annie said. “Now, step away from the murdering bitch on the floor and call 911.”
Bootsy complied, grabbed her robe and ran out of the bathroom area.
“Derrick promised me a baby. For twenty years. He promised,” Jennifer said and wrung her hands. “I excused his affairs. Then he changed his will. I knew it when I saw him with Franco. He lied. Over and over, Derrick, Mr. I Promise, Fuller lied. What was I supposed to do?”
Sirens rang in the distance.
“Jeez. I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be a lack of sperm in the world,” Annie said. “Murder the lying jerk and risk going to prison or worse. Option B: Buy someone else’s manly juice at a friendly sperm bank. Or Option C: Hang at a local sports bar during Monday night football. You’d score a free couple of beers and not even pay for your swimmers.”
“But I loved Derrick. I took care of him throughout his entire cancer ordeal.”
“We grew close,” Derrick said. “I promised her….” He looked embarrassed.
“Derrick, you have to stop promising things you have no intention of giving,” Annie said. “It’s not right, it’s not fair and it hurts people.”
“At least you get it,” Jennifer replied.
When Detectives Kyle Pardue and Rafe Campillio burst into Inhale Spa’s healing waters’ bathroom, guns drawn. Kyle aimed his weapon at Annie. Rafe aimed his at Jennifer.
“Drop the gun,” Kyle said to Annie. “I knew there was something wrong with you.”
Annie dropped the gun.
Rafe walked past several black and white police cars on his way to a paramedic van parked outside the spa. A policeman strung yellow tape strung around the spa’s sidewalk perimeter. Another uniformed cop manned the boundary and politely turned away invitees for tonight’s event. Two more cops gently pushed back the growing crowd of curious looky-loos.
Annie sat on the open-ended back of a paramedic’s truck. A paramedic gal checked her arm and leg reflexes.
She kicked and spasmed appropriately which she assumed meant her reflexes were responsive and healthy. The paramedic shone lights in her eyes. They tracked correctly. That probably meant she didn’t have brain damage. Someone on the EMT squad asked her what day it was and who was the current president. She answered correctly on the president question, but screwed up on the tricky day question. Annie was exhausted. Rafe walked up and asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital. She said no.
Kyle walked past with Nurse Jennifer in handcuffs. He pushed her into a black and white.
“My collar,” he said as he glanced at Rafe and a couple of Santa Monica’s finest. No one argued. Kyle got into the front passenger seat and the car pulled away.
Rafe noticed the multi-colored bruises forming on Annie’s face and throat. “We want to question you at the station. You okay with that?”
“Step aside. Move it,” Julia said as she pushed her way through the crowd to the paramedic’s truck.
Annie saw Julia. Her face was flushed, she was sweaty, her blouse undone to bra level and a big hickey blossomed on her neck. “You called Julia?” Annie asked Rafe. “Am I still a suspect?”
“Yes, I called Julia. She’s your best friend. I believe that you were set up in Derrick Fuller’s murder, and I believe that you’re actually a witness,” Rafe said. “While Jennifer admitted she killed Dr. Derrick Fuller, you’re not out of the woods yet.”
Annie looked at Rafe. “You’re cute, smart, thoughtful and hotter than an organic chipotle pepper farm. I’m from Wisconsin. I’m, butter, milk. I’m dairy. I get this vibe that you like me. Why?”
Rafe leaned into her and rubbed her shoulders. “I’m lactose tolerant,” he said.
Julia spotted Annie in the back of the paramedic van and flashed her assistant public defender badge at the uniformed cop. “I’m Annie Rose Graceland’s attorney.” She ran to the back of the van. “No one talks to Annie Graceland without my permission. Got it?” Julia frowned, buttoned her blouse back up and tried to look tough.
“Absolutely,” Rafe said. “I’ll be back in a few.” He turned and walked toward the spa.
Annie smiled. “Thanks, Julia. Nice hickey.”
“Welcome,” Julia said. “I enjoyed getting it.”
Annie saw Derrick standing next to Julia.
He smiled at her. “Job well done, my gorgeous red-headed empath. I believe our contract has been fulfilled. I’m leaving for the After-Life. Thank you. I will never forget you,” Derrick said. He took her hand, kissed it. Leaned forward and kissed her swollen cheek. “If we met under different circumstances, I know we’d be more than friends.” Derrick turned and walked off in his silver Pucci thong, invisible to almost everyone on the commercial street.
“Hey, Derrick!” Annie called after him.
He turned around and smiled at her.
“Good luck.”
Derrick winked at Annie. “If you don’t hop aboard the Detective Rafe E-ticket, I might find a way to beat you to it.”
She flipped him the finger.
“You’re my best Derrick’s Darling, ever,” he laughed. He disappeared into the evening fog, the hoards of tourists, the thing that was the beautiful pristine city of Santa Monica, California.
The next morning, the fog lifted and the sun was high in the sky by the time Annie and Rafe paused at her Victory Gardens. They talked about her tomatoes, sprouting green and leafy with some small yellow flowers that looked like tiny bells. Rafe told her Jennifer was booked and hadn’t made bail yet. He said her tomatoes looked healthy and asked what variety she had planted.
She explained to him that she went back and forth between Romas and Big Boys.
He said, “I expect you to save one for me.”
She and Rafe walked to her apartment door. “The day I met you...” he said as he took her hand.
“What?” she asked.
“I pictured this,” Rafe leaned her back against her front door and kissed her. He pulled her closer to him, tight.
This man, Raphael Campillio was solid and sweet. He liked that she was smart, got her sense of humor and didn’t care that she was a little whacked. He made her laugh. She hadn’t told him about her empathic curse/gift yet. Annie decided that was a conversation to be shared down the line. And oh God, his skin, mouth and shoulders rocked. Their kiss and this moment felt more than right. She kissed Rafe back and said his name, “Raphael,” to herself. Then said it out loud, “Raphael, do you want to come inside for a bit?”
“Yes.”
Annie fumbled for her keys in her purse.
Rafe pointed to the pot next to the front door growing basil with the key underneath it.
“Good call!” She reached down, snagged the key and high fived him. Rafe grabbed her hand, leaned her back against her front door and kissed her again. Holy smokes, this was ten times better than smoking!
Annie and Rafe lay on her sofa, arms and legs entwined, sheets draped and twisted over their bodies. Rafe kissed the length of Annie’s neck. “I’m sorry I never call before I come over. I promise…”
Annie put one hand over his mouth. “No.” She ran her other hand down the middle of his six-pack abdomen. “Don’t ever promise me. I beg you. No promises.”
Rafe took her hand from his mouth and kissed her palm. “You’re not free and clear yet, lady. Trespassing at the shrine. Duchess Myra Stoneycliff. Dr. Sanjay Patel? I’m going to press for some community service. I’m part of this community. And I can think of some services.” His hand moved under the sheet and caressed her body. He pulled her down to him, kissed her on the mouth and more. Much much more. Oh, joy.
She watched Rafe walk toward her shower. She eyed his beautiful body and felt his yummy clean heart. This romantic thing with Rafe Campillio felt like a beginning, not an ending.
Suddenly Rafe’s muy bien ass was obscured by another, much bigger one.
Derrick Fuller stood in front of her. His silver thong package jiggled as he jumped up and down. “Annie! Pay attention. The detective’s hot. Awesome you’re not my murder suspect, anymore. But I will not be ignored. I need your help,” Derrick said.
“No, no, no!” She frowned, and scrunched her eyes closed. “You’re a bad dream, Derrick. You’re in the After-Life, getting some job with a happy ending. Leave me alone!” Her eyes flew open, horrified. “How long have you been here?”
He grinned. “You might be out of practice in the you-know-what department, but I’d play the ponies you catch up in no time.”
“We had a deal, Derrick.”
“Totally not my fault. Your grandmother, Nonna Maria, who is pretty hot by the way, snagged me while I was crossing over. She said because I haunted her in purgatory, that I couldn’t pass to the After-Life until I hit purgatory for a couple of decades. I’m not even Catholic. I love the priest’s outfits and their fun little hats. I admit the art in Catholic churches is to die for. But I can’t hang out in purgatory, Annie. It’s very beige. I don’t do beige. You have to help me. This is about me, Annie. I Promise you…”
“No!” said, and turned on her boom box. You’re So Vain lamented Carly Simon.
“Oh come on. One of my most important clients was murdered a couple of nights ago. Still here spiritually, but confused, the lovely man reached out to me for advice and help. If we help him, I’ll earn enough good karma points to catapult me into the After-Life.”
“No!” She got up off the couch and walked to her kitchen. She opened the door to her fridge and searched for cookies, brownies. She settled on a big fat chocolate cupcake. She needed sustenance. She needed sanity. She needed to ditch this dead guy. Forever.
Killer Devil’s Food Cupcakes
Description: Rich, moist, dark chocolate cupcakes slathered in creamy dreamy icing. Several bites produce hallucinations of nirvana. Perhaps you even died and went to heaven. Or not.
Ingredients & Directions: Wait until your cupcakes are cool before applying icing.
*Special Note: Only inject cyanide into the
cupcake if you sincerely want to murder the person who will eat it.
Appropriate Occasions: Losing unwanted eye circles. The art of negotiation. Connecting the murder dots.
Best Served With: Justice. Cha-Ching! Law & Order (the soundtrack). Rejuvenation. Romance!
THE END
Acknowledgments:
I’d like to give a big thank you to the following people who helped birth my first novel. Ken Lewis at Krill Press published the 1st edition. A huge thanks to you for giving me a chance! Thanks to talented screenwriter Michael James Canales for designing the new book cover. It’s beautiful! Thanks to authors Jacqueline Carey, Shelly Fredman, Julie Smith Dolcemaschio, Lisa Lutz, Bob Bernstein, Dave Thome, and Deborah Riley Magnus for your inspiration and help. Thanks to Emilie Staat, Cheree Plank, MaryJo Schultz and Toni Causey for your early notes. Ramona DeFelice Long is an editor extraordinaire. Chase Heiland edited the book’s second edition. You’re awesome! Rita Kempley and Ed Schneider – thanks for being there for me no matter what. Thanks Sadie Gilliam for the original author photo. Thanks Mike Snyder of The Trailer Guys for the fierce book trailer. Cynthia Ann Richards did a great job on the hair and makeup. Aurora de Blas was the fearless actress who played Annie. Thanks to my family, POV and my clients. Thanks Drs. Carrie Hartney and John Montaghue. Thanks Karen Rontowski, Joe Wilson, Kim Kuskin, Melissa Black Ford, Monica Mason, Marsha Boyer, Laura Schultz, Lynn Westman, Betty Macias, Debra Sanderson, Cher Rue, Paula Powers, Kristin Warren and Michele Montgomery. Thanks to all the Sassy Girls! Thanks to the BookNook crew for creating new e-book editions.
And thanks to all you readers who embraced this novel.
Now go read a good book and tell someone you love about it!
Xo,
Pamela DuMond
About the Author
In grade school Pamela DuMond was an A student but stuttered and was badly bullied. Reading became her refuge. She devoured every thriller and mystery she could get her hands on and eventually wrote her own.
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