Murder in Wax

by Holly Copella

  Marlene looked across the diner and saw Jamie flirting with a young, handsome customer who wasn’t even in her section.

  “Jamie--”

  Jamie turned. Marlene held the phone in the air with an impatient look on her face. Jamie immediately turned giddy and rushed to the phone. Marlene approached the nearby counter and poured some coffee to those seated at the counter even though most had full cups. It was obvious she was attempting to listen to Jamie’s conversation. Despite Jamie’s initial enthusiasm with the call, she appeared slightly flustered.

  “Uh, yeah. I can meet you,” Jamie announced into the phone then paused and cast a look around the diner. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”

  Jamie hung up the phone and stood unusually still and silent a moment as if contemplating her next move. Marlene appeared suspicious of the look on the girl’s face and approached.

  “Something wrong?” Marlene asked while tilting her head.

  “No,” she replied a little too quickly then looked toward the kitchen beyond the counter. “Matt, I’m taking the rest of the evening off. My mother needs help with Chelsea.”

  The cook waved her off almost as if used to the routine. Jamie removed her apron while Marlene glared at her.

  “That wasn’t your mother on the phone,” Marlene snarled.

  Jamie glared back at her co-worker. “Tell Matt that, and I’ll tell him about the missing money from the register.”

  Marlene stared at her with wide, horror-filled eyes. “You took the money from the register, you little bitch,” she practically cried out.

  Jamie smirked slyly. “You can’t prove I took it,” she mocked, “but I can certainly make you look guilty. Don’t fuck with me, Marlene. I have important things to do tonight, and I won’t let you ruin it for me.”

  Marlene could only stare at her without comment. Jamie smiled mockingly and rushed out of the diner with a plan in mind. Marlene folded her arms across her chest and watched Jamie disappear.

  “I’m going to get that bitch.”

  §

  Nearly an hour later, Jamie got out of her old, red sports car and stared at the abandoned farmhouse located on the far end of town. She had changed into a low-cut, red dress that clung to every curve of her body. Her hair was styled with the greatest care, and her makeup was flawless if not a little thick. It was a little before seven o’clock that evening, and the sun was already hiding behind some trees, casting a shadow on the farmhouse. Jamie approached the dilapidated house and eyed the old, broken window in the front room. A dim light could be seen through the separation of the tattered curtains.

  She nervously walked onto the porch, the sound of her high heels clomping against the rotted boards. She hesitated, appeared to reconsider her meeting, and then forced herself to knock on the door. It creaked open, causing her to shiver at the sound. It was uncertain if someone opened it or if it moved just from her knocking. She nervously pushed the door open and peered inside. The dimly lit hallway appeared vacant. Jamie slowly entered the foyer of the dilapidated farmhouse and looked around the hallway. She grimaced at the state of the building. The interior walls were cracked, lacked paint, and were falling apart. The floorboards appeared slightly rotted, and the stairs had seen better days. Jamie nervously looked around waiting for someone to greet her.

  “Hello?”

  There was no response. She approached the living room containing the light and glanced over the room. Several pigeons flew past her, headed up the stairway, and flew out a broken window. Jamie jumped with surprise then held her chest while panting. A shadow loomed over her from behind. Jamie recovered from the pigeon parade and turned back toward the hallway. A man wearing the phantom costume stood directly before her, his white mask covering most of his face except a small portion of his left cheek, mouth, and chin. Jamie let out a scream and jumped back just as a large dagger was thrust downward for her. The knife sliced her lower arm, but she had managed to avoid being stabbed in the chest.

  She cried out with horror and pain but barely took time to clutch her bleeding forearm before bolting down the hall and away from her attacker. Unfortunately, she ran in the opposite direction of the front door. The phantom chased after her, his purple and black cloak gracefully flowing behind him. Jamie ran into the old kitchen and immediately bolted for the door. She attempted to open it and realized too late that it had been boarded from the outside. As she turned, the phantom was already behind her and thrust his knife for her. She leaped out of his path, and the knife struck the single pane window on the kitchen door, easily shattering the glass.

  By the time he freed his dagger, Jamie was already running across the kitchen and back for the hallway. The phantom chased after her, making up time in his elegant, shiny black boots matched against her clumsy, excessively high heels. She was nearly upon the closed front door when the phantom grabbed her around the waist and tackled her to the floor. She screamed as she fell backward onto the floor with her attacker landing on top. Jamie was slightly winded. She looked up as he hovered over her with the knife prepared to plunge into her chest. Jamie screamed and thrust her high heel sharply into his calf. He cried out with surprise allowing her precious seconds to plan her escape. He had pulled back just far enough for her to knee him in the groin, causing him to fall off her and drop the dagger.

  Jamie rolled across the floor and away from him then sprang to her feet. She saw the discarded knife near his hand and lunged for it. As she dropped to her knees to grab the knife, the phantom snatched it, and with a backward swing, stabbed her in the midsection. Jamie cried out with horror and agony while looking into the phantom’s eyes. His teeth gritted as he gave the knife a sharp twist inside her. She gasped, spit up blood, and slid off the knife.

  The phantom moved to his knees over her where she writhed in agony and attempted to scream. He clutched the bloody knife in his black-gloved hand while holding it over her body. He grunted with rage and stabbed her in the chest. Jamie’s body jerked slightly as blood spilled from her chest and mouth. Before she gasped her last breath, he pulled the knife free and violently stabbed her several times in the abdomen. When he finally pulled the dagger free after the last thrust, she wheezed then became still. The phantom moved off her, straightened proudly while panting slightly, and then grinned with satisfaction.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was early Saturday morning, and although she hadn’t gotten much sleep, Devon was up early, as was mostly everyone on her father’s ranch. Devon had decided to go for a long ride around the two-hundred-acre ranch. It had actually been a while since she’d been out for such a long ride. After her run-in with Joe a month ago, she was told to avoid the ranch hands. Devon rode her black and white pinto horse at a leisurely canter across the countryside and slowed when she happened upon some of the wranglers hanging out with the herd of heifers. She debated socializing with the guys but, ultimately, didn’t feel like hearing about it from her father if she did. She was about to continue with her ride when two of the ranch hands galloped across the pasture to greet her.

  She stopped her horse and decided it was only polite to say hello since they made the effort. Devon couldn’t help but wonder if they were mad at her for getting Joe fired. Maybe that was why her father was upset. Perhaps firing Joe got the other wranglers wound up. What if they shared hostility toward her regarding Joe? She was now anxious to meet with the guys, particularly alone. She hadn’t considered how they might feel toward her at that moment. Worst case scenario, she knew she had the faster horse and could outrun them.

  The two wranglers, Peter and Ryan, stopped their horses before her, pushed their hats back on their heads and leaned on the saddle horns with matching grins on their youthful faces. Both men were in their mid to late twenties and shared the same boyish good looks.

  “Morning, ma’am,” both men cheerfully announced almost in unison.

  “I’m a ma’am now?” she teased, although the greeting did concern her.

  Were the men already
on edge around her, fearing anything they said and did would now be grounds for dismissal? It made her uncomfortable, but she decided not to make a big deal about it. Both men laughed at the comment.

  “Where have you been?” Pete practically demanded. “It hasn’t been the same around here without you.”

  Devon was slightly surprised to hear him say that. Hadn’t they heard why Joe had been fired?

  “Martin said you got into a fight with your father,” Ryan remarked. “We feared you packed up and moved to the city.”

  “That would never happen,” she remarked then eyed the men almost suspiciously. “Martin didn’t tell you what my father and I fought about?”

  “He seemed unclear himself,” Pete replied then made a slight face. “Something about Joe, I suspect, but Martin was sort of rambling at the time.”

  She shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and decided to tackle the subject head-on. “You heard what happened with Joe, didn’t you?”

  “Just the meat and taters of it,” Ryan remarked then shook his head. “Must’ve been pretty bad for you to go to your father.” He shifted uncomfortably on his horse. “I mean, the rest of us have been playfully disrespectful to you at times, and it’s never been a problem.”

  “Joe was a pig,” Pete scoffed with irritation. “Always making lewd comments about other guy’s girls. I’m too much of a gentleman to repeat some of the things he said about you behind your back. Probably shouldn’t have told your father either.” He shifted and gave her a nervous look. “I thought maybe that’s why you weren’t coming around anymore. Something I said may have set him off, and he told you to stay away from us.”

  Devon stared at the men a moment and wondered if the guys told her father things that upset him more than what she’d told him. Perhaps that was part of the reason he didn’t want her hanging around the guys.

  “After what happened with Joe, he told me to stay away from the wranglers,” she replied with honesty. “I just assumed it had to do with Joe’s advance and that we shouldn’t mix girls with the guys.”

  “Well, your father isn’t from our generation,” Ryan announced. “He doesn’t understand friendships between guys and gals. We can say stupid things, but that doesn’t mean we’re looking to bed a woman.”

  “So you guys aren’t mad that I got Joe fired?” she finally asked while feeling a nervous pang.

  “Mad?” Pete practically cried out. “Mad at Joe. If we’d caught him coming on to you, he’d be hanging from the nearest tree.”

  “By his nuggets, no less,” Ryan added.

  “I’ve personally seen you handle the guys without anger or complaint,” Pete announced. “I’ve seen the guys get a little friendly with an innocent hug, and I’ve seen you deal with them. It’s always been ‘problem solved’. Joe must have crossed one hell of a line for you to report him to your father. Knowing him the way we do, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise. We told him to mind his manners around you, but he didn’t listen. I’m sure he got exactly what he deserved.”

  “I’m glad I came out here today,” she remarked and felt herself relax. “I’ve been fretting that you and the other wranglers blamed me for Joe. Especially with my father ordering me to stay away from you guys.”

  “I’m sure he’s just being overly protective of his little girl,” Pete replied. “I’m sure I would too. Honestly, Devon, you’re safer with us than anywhere around here for miles. We’re practically family, and the guys miss you something terrible.”

  “Well, we don’t miss you on poker night,” Ryan announced and smirked. “With the way you cheat at cards and all.”

  Devon playfully glared at him. “I never cheated at cards,” she announced. “You guys are just terrible poker players.”

  “Hang out with us a while,” Pete announced cheerfully. “We need some stimulating conversation around here. I can’t handle any more boring conversations with some of these guys.”

  “Okay,” she replied cheerfully. “Just for a little while. I don’t want my father catching me. I don’t feel like getting into another fight with him right now.”

  Devon spent the rest of the day with the ranch hands tending to the herd, keeping strays from wandering off, and having a good time doing it. She couldn’t deny she missed being a wrangler.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The tavern was moderately crowded as it usually was on a Saturday night. Devon and Ivy entered, paused by the main door, and looked around. There were already several drunken men hanging around the bar while trashy looking women made their plays. They spotted Ross and Tony in the back playing pool. Ross’ laugh was unmistakable and traveled despite the crowded room and loud music. Ross saw them and signaled to a table near the jukebox. Devon and Ivy approached the table and sat down. Ivy looked around the room with disappointment.

  “One of these days, I’d like to head to the resort clubs and have some real fun,” Ivy announced with a huff. “I’m getting bored with drunken farm boys.”

  “So you’d prefer drunken businessmen for a change of pace?” Devon teased.

  “At least the music would be better,” Ivy remarked while listening to the same country songs blaring from the prehistoric jukebox. As she scanned the bar with a bored sigh, her eyes suddenly lit up. “There he is! I can’t believe he’s here!”

  “Who?” Devon asked while looking around the crowd for whatever handsome devil Ivy had her eyes on.

  “Burt Danson,” Ivy gasped while grabbing Devon’s arm. “He’s the one who’ll be hiring the actress for the soap opera. We have to go over there and socialize.”

  Devon again scanned the room until she found the man in question. Burt Danson was a heavyset man in his forties with slicked back hair dyed excessively dark. He wore a flashy gold watch and a thick gold chain. He was quite possibly the least attractive man Devon had seen in a long time. He sat at the bar alongside Paula Jarred. Paula was now a bleached blonde, who dressed the part of a low budget porn star. Excessive substance abuse had physically taken its toll on her. A thick layer of makeup was all that kept her from looking like death warmed over.

  “Paula,” Ivy scoffed while glaring through narrow eyes. “She’s making moves on Burt.”

  “Apparently,” a woman announced from nearby, “she had the same idea we had.”

  Devon and Ivy turned to see Tamara Little standing near their table. Tamara maintained her attractive appearance over the last seven years. Her strawberry blonde hair seemed a little more strawberry than blonde, suggesting she may have changed hair color. Tamara placed her drink on their table and collapsed in the vacant chair between them.

  Tamara’s eyes remain fixed on Paula. “That girl has no shame,” she scoffed. “She’ll sleep her way right into that job.”

  “You know about her auditioning for the soap role?” Ivy asked with surprise.

  “Of course,” Tamara replied while sneering. “I was there when she slinked in. She looked like an overpriced streetwalker.”

  “You auditioned for the job too?”

  Tamara gave Ivy a humored look but withheld her laugh. “Nearly every woman under thirty in this town applied for that job,” she informed her.

  All three looked back at Paula as she clung to Burt’s shoulder with her breasts pressed against his arm. They appeared to be having an intimate conversation. Burt seemed to be enjoying the flirtatious company as well.

  “But ultimately, it’s not who you know,” Tamara informed them while indicating the couple, “it’s who you blow.”

  “It’s hard to believe you two were once friends,” Devon remarked.

  “That was a long time ago,” Tamara remarked. “It was nothing for her to get me into trouble. I despise the bitch.”

  “We can’t let her sleep her way into the job,” Ivy informed Tamara. “We need to do something.”

  “Like what?” Tamara remarked while snorting a laugh. “You see her crawling all over him. He’s under the hypnotic spell of her slutty wiles.”

  �
�We should invite him over,” Ivy suggested.

  “Ivy,” Devon groaned, attempting to nix the idea. She knew her friend was fiercely competitive and it wouldn’t end well.

  “It’s worth a shot,” Tamara agreed. “Two on one. We might get him away from her.”

  “I’m sure two on one is exactly what he has in mind,” Devon muttered.

  Neither woman heard her or at least they didn’t acknowledge the comment. Devon groaned as the two women headed toward the bar to steal Burt away from Paula.

  §

  Several minutes later, Paula watched and silently seethed as Burt joined Tamara, Ivy, and Devon at their table. She glared at her brother, who was slumped on the bar alongside her, and slapped his arm startling him.

  “What are you hitting me for?” he demanded in a slightly drunken tone.

  Joe was possibly good-looking at one time, but he lacked personal hygiene possibly since he’d lost his job a month ago. His dirty blonde hair was more dirty than blonde and hadn’t been properly combed in days. His facial stubble didn’t know if it wanted to be a beard, and his clothes were dirty and wrinkled, possibly suggesting he had slept in them more than one night.

  “Those bitches stole my ticket out of this hellhole,” she exclaimed to her brother. “Go over there and do something!”

  Joe glanced across the tavern as if he hadn’t even been paying attention to what had happened over the last twenty minutes. He snorted a laugh and minded his beer.

  “No way,” he announced and took a large swallow of beer. “I don’t get involved in catfights, and I want nothing to do with Devon Vincent.”

  “Why not?” Paula demanded in a near temper tantrum. “She’s the bitch who got you fired.”

  “She’s also the bitch with an influential father roughly the size of a brick shithouse,” Joe informed her. “I touch her; he kills me. If he doesn’t, her hot-headed brother does. Notice the pattern? Both stories end up with me dead. No girl is worth dying for.”