Hammered

by Ruth Bainbridge

  A soft meow was the response, but there went a blep. The tip of the pink tongue was showing between his front teeth, but it didn’t interfere with the purr. While it was only a few minutes past her usual bedtime, she needed to catch up on that missed sleep caused by Swayzie’s little anonymous caller game.

  With the calico wonder in her arms, it made no sense to put him down and make him walk up the stairs. Better to carry her furball—so that was what she did.

  Her foot hit the first step when she heard the accursed sound.

  A ringtone … her ringtone.

  Was she that slavish in devotion to her cell? Was she trained to answer it every time it rang?

  Evidently.

  She found herself walking towards it, promising that she’d only peek at who it was when the doorbell rang.

  Conflicted.

  That was what she was. And with a brain drained of energy, she was stuck in the middle of making a decision.

  The door, you idiot!

  The door obviously took precedence. Two more rings and the call slid into voicemail, while the doorbell kicked up.

  Someone was in a hurry.

  But who?

  Lyddie!

  Even though dark, she’d recognize that pouf of hair anywhere.

  The freakin’ nerve.

  “What the heck? You scared Taz … and screwed up my sleep cycle! I told you about the open house tomorrow morning! I have to cater it and you are so remarkably insensitive as to disregard my needs and fulfill your own twisted desires—not that you always haven’t done just that!”

  Her ebff pushed her aside and barreled in.

  “This couldn’t wait!” Lyddie announced to the audience of one.

  “What? You mean, the blow-by-blow description of you and Bailey having sex? Believe me when I say I don’t want to know!”

  “Sex? You think I’m here because Bailey and I had the best sex I’ve ever had in the entire history of the world?”

  “It’s the only thing you think is important, Lyddie,” Sam reminded.

  “It’s a priority, but not the only one,” she challenged. “You know, it is so surprising that after all this time, you don’t know me at all,” she said, lowering her tone and nearing.

  A hiss from Taz backed her up.

  “That cat! He’s going to kill someone some day!”

  “How about today?” Sam threatened.

  “You’ll be sorry about talking to me that way! You’re about to thank me, you, you, you, ingrate!” she said, tucking away her cell.

  The lightbulb went on in Sam’s head.

  “Wait a minute! You were the one on the phone! You called too?”

  “Even though you don’t have a clue about me, I know you, Sam. I know you might ignore the call, but someone at the door you wouldn’t. It’s especially true because you’d be able to see my ID when I call while the doorbell does not give my identity away!”

  “Ha! That’s where you went wrong. You rang the bell too early and I never had a chance to ignore your call—but you are correct. I would have.”

  “I thought so,” Lyddie said, crossing her arms and arching one painted brow. How her make-up had stayed intact after performing the horizontal mambo with that slug she hooked up with was a mystery better left for another day.

  “The news?” Sam prompted. “What earth-shattering news did you have to tell me? The sooner you tell me, the sooner you can leave me in peace!”

  “Okay … they let Lee Swayzie go.”

  Sam’s soulful dark eyes blinked as her gray cells did a swan dive into a pool devoid of water.

  “Did you just say the Mountain Valley Police Stooges let Swayzie go?”

  “Yes!” Lyddie reinforced. “He’s out—and free to pick up another hammer!”

  “B-but—” was all she could manage to stammer.

  She needed to sit. She took a spot on the couch, hugging Mr. Cuddles to her for comfort. He obliged by not seriously injuring her in the process of trying to wriggle away.

  “I know, honey,” Sam cooed to the distraught feline.

  Her ebff’s face softened as she rushed forward, discarding her satchel along the way. A tender hand went on Sam’s shoulder.

  It was what friends were for.

  Even ex-friends.

  “How … ?” Sam whispered.

  “The way all scumbags get out—he made bail.”

  “But how do you know, Lyddie?”

  “Eunice. She likes me.”

  Why did Lyddie look so proud?

  “Oh, my God!” Sam lamented. “This … this is terrible.”

  Her head shook as the slumped body suddenly became rigid and erect.

  “I’m done playing victim,” she growled as she let her beloved kitty cat dribble out of her hands and onto the cushion.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Watch!” she snapped as she retrieved her phone and punched in the number she’d committed to memory. She had a feeling she’d be needing it, and she was right.

  She was put right through.

  “Ms. Powell? Everything all right? Lee Swayzie was released this afternoon and—” Detective Death started.

  “And you didn’t think to tell me?” she lambasted. “The only way I found out is from a friend!”

  “A friend?” Lyddie mouthed. “Then we’re friends?”

  Sam covered the mouthpiece with her hand.

  “No! Absolutely not! I lied,” she mouthed.

  Lyddie nodded and offered her hand to Mr. Cuddles, who batted it away.

  “It was my decision not to tell you,” the man she hated most in the world explained. “I didn’t want you to be worried for no reason since we have the situation under control.”

  “Well, of course you have! By obsessing about the wrong person being the culprit, you’ve let the guilty party go!”

  “Wrong person? I don’t recall mentioning our suspect to you, Ms. Powell.”

  “Oh, ho, ho, ho, yes, you did! But even if you didn’t, it would have been obvious by the way you’ve been breathing down my neck!”

  “Wait a minute! You’re not talking about me thinking that you are in some way connected to—”

  “Tut tut tut tut! Your soul is already in jeopardy. In accusing an innocent lamb, you have forged a pact with The Devil, and ye soul shall have to be reclaimed by something other than empty denials over what we both knoweth art true.”

  “I have no idea what that even means!” he snapped.

  “No? Well, think about it, you meanie!” she screamed. “And about NoBo, I’m sorry about calling you that! I thought it was an insult, but that same friend told me it wasn’t! So I’m changing the meaning! That way my usage of it will not be in vain! From now on, and retroactively, it will mean NOBODY COULD DO BETTER AT SCREWING UP THIS CASE!”

  She ended the call with her voice ringing in his ears. The ubiquitous return call was made, but then it was so like him to fall into the tawdry predictable category of asking her to explain why she thought he was so mean. She successfully claimed her womanhood by not accepting the call, and when the second one from Detective Death came in, that also was left to slide into voicemail—

  With impunity.

  Lyddie broke out into applause, pausing once again to see if Mr. Cuddles had broken her flawless skin. The re-examination assured no hemorrhaging.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you, my incapable of shutting up two seconds ex-acquaintance,” Sam stated. “I would say I’ve proven myself grander than my societal programming about answering calls, don’t you? I did just successfully ignore two pathetic attempts.”

  “You did, but acquaintance? I thought we were—”

  “No, acquaintance is more accurate than best friend forever. After all, it was you who said I didn’t know you at all. If I don’t know you, how could we ever be considered friends?”

  The finger Lyddie had been pointing stayed up before falling under its own weight.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she c
onceded.

  “Thank you for giving me that one. I thought it was going to turn into another food fight.”

  “Not this late at night it won’t. Especially not after Bailey performing acts on me not seen since the Temple of Aphrodite in Corinth was open for business and accepting customers that—”

  “Enough! Tazzy is too young for such licentious prostitutional conversation. Besides, I have to figure out what to do … the twenty-four-hours is up and that man is out there. He knows where I live and Detective Death is absolutely no good for anything except throwing a football. You’d think the police academy would insist on more of a skillset.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry there,” the curvy blonde said as she got up and approached the girl in fake leopard fur mules.

  “About the police academy’s requirements?”

  It was Lyddie’s turn to shout.

  “No, Sam! I was not referring to the academy!”

  “Then what were you?”

  “I was referring to the fact that I know what to do,” Lyddie stated before retrieving the huge bag that could have hidden a side of beef in its folds. Holding it aloft, she dispensed a wink and an all-too self-congratulatory smile.

  CHAPTER 28

  Sweet dreams.

  Sam was back in high school—sitting in the bleachers and watching the Mountain Valley Lions play a spirited game against the chief competitors: the cheatin’ New Castle Wolverines. The Wolverines were doing their best to glower and strike terror into the hearts of the Lions, but it wasn’t working.

  The Lions were up by five in the fourth quarter. With only twenty seconds to go in the game, a touchdown would do it. The chances of that were slim, but—

  It was something Jennings was famous for.

  He’d gained quite a reputation for performing Hail Marys and making them work. His ability to pull off miracles under pressure was well-documented and becoming legendary. NoBo’s prowess had even reached her ears, and she was hardly a football fan.

  Could he do it again?

  It was this variable in the equation that had her scared.

  Time was called. It gave an opportunity for NoBo to call a last-minute huddle. As evil team leader, it was his responsibility to ensure everyone was on the same page. His impudent derriere faced Sam. She was more than tempted to go down on the field and kick it, but restrained herself from following through on the impulse.

  A referee’s whistle ended the discussion.

  With a series of loud grunts and other assorted guttural noises, the huddle broke up. The Wolverines high-fived and made their way onto the field. The Mountain Lions countered—matching and mirroring the precision. They well-knew what was at stake and readied for all-out war.

  All the players were in place, knuckles on the ground and staring into the eyes of sworn enemies. Everything was on hold and waiting for the egotistical star quarterback to get with the program. Finally, the so-and-so who stomped on teeny-bopper hearts deigned to stop preening. The crusher of hopes got into the crouch of a silverback and began calling out numbers.

  Time stood still.

  “Thirteen, sixteen, twenty-five, twelve, ten, fifty-two, hike!”

  Jennings had the ball!

  As Sam struggled for breath, the crowd around her went crazy.

  He drew back, looking for an opening and a place to set. The Wolverine offense gave him his wish by being effective in shutting down the Lions’ best efforts to reach NoBo. As the Lions went down one-by-one, she cringed, her stomach tying itself in knots.

  Oh, no!

  A receiver was open!

  With Jennings having all the time in the world to make the throw, it spelled disaster for the Lions copping first place in the league.

  There went the trophy.

  The lean, muscled arm kicked back. It was all over, including who would win the Most Valuable Player, but something distracted her … something in her peripheral vision. A blur of pink was rushing onto the field from the right side. Due to the speed, it took a moment to recognize the figure.

  Lyddie!

  It was Lyddie! Dressed in a hot pink uniform with the number 7 on the back, it must have taken her all morning for her to get her bouffant hair under that helmet. Why the color of her friend’s uniform deviated from the rest of the team’s was a mystery. The school colors were grey and gold, but the unique color scheme made her easy to track, and like some intelligent scud missile, she evaded tackles as she homed in on the target.

  “NoBo, throw!” the receiver screamed.

  The Wolverine fans joined in, chanting, “Throw! Throw! Throw!”

  NoBo would have gladly obliged if it were not for being distracted by the very attractive, curvaceous blonde bombshell launching an attack.

  How Lyddie got on the Mountain Valley team, Sam didn’t know, but there she was—the center of attention and splitting the crowd’s loyalty down the middle. While half the fans booed her attempt, the other half erupted into cheers that egged her on in accomplishing her goal.

  The gigantic scoreboard clock was running out. It was now or never time and NoBo had no choice but to act. The pair of hazel eyes were taken off the uber luscious man-killer and refocused on the receiver waving his arms on the eight yard line.

  If the ball were caught, it would be a cakewalk across the goal line.

  Sixteen … fifteen … fourteen

  The crowd counted down the seconds as NoBo launched into action. Cocking back, his arm shot forward as his fingertips opened and—

  NoBo was down!

  And covered in pink!

  Lyddie had accomplished the impossible and sacked the quarterback! The ball that should have floated downfield had sputtered, dying in the air before trickling to the ground. Sam rubbed her eyes to make sure she was seeing things correctly as an ear-splitting cheer went up.

  With the Lions fans still erupting in celebration, the clock had run out. The game was officially over. There wasn’t even a second left for NoBo to pull this game out of the toilet. The student body of Mountain Valley rejoiced in the moment by hugging and kissing one another.

  Sam did her best to evade being smooched, but a series of classmate’s random lips were planted on her cheek as she eased into the aisle. Her walk down the steps might be unsteady, but she kept it real by focusing on the woman in pink only now getting up off the routed loser beneath her voluptuous curves.

  The pink uniform only sustained minor damage, and a good dry cleaner would be able to remove those grass stains. Now that Lyddie wasn’t in full stride, Sam was left to admire how magnificently the jersey was tailored to fit her enviable form. A shortening of the hem and a tuck in the waistband highlighted the hourglass figure that classmates lusted after.

  While Lyddie graciously accepted a wealth of congratulatory pats, NoBo flopped in the dirt like a flounder. His face staring skyward, he prepared to get up and perform the walk of shame off the field.

  “Think I’d forget?”

  What?

  The phrase and the voice didn’t match the dream! And if it wasn’t part of it, why was she hearing it?

  Duh! Because it wasn’t part of it, that’s why!

  The realization jolted her awake.

  Her eyes sprang open and took in the figure looming over her bed. The hulking form was made more disturbing by the gun in the intruder’s hand. The weapon added to the sense of panic and amped it to a colossal level of fear.

  Goddamn Jennings for letting Swayzie out.

  “You get out of here! You leave me alone!” she yelled as she pulled the sheets up to her chin.

  As if that would keep the ex-con at bay.

  He neared.

  “I can’t,” the man cloaked by darkness responded. “You know too much, Ms. Powell. I can’t let you live.”

  Short … sweet … succinct … the pronouncement made her ponder her next move.

  She was caught in the crosshairs.

  An unexplained clatter came from the top of Sam’s bureau as a screech
worthy of a banshee rang out. Both were unexpected and made all the more curious by the fact that neither came from her—or the intruder.

  Her mind processed the mystery as another unearthly shriek blanketed the air and blew out her eardrums. A pair of glowing yellow eyes appeared out of nowhere as the assault on her personal belongings continued. Her brush and assorted toiletries dropped to the floor as a pair of jellybean paws scrambled for traction.

  It was Taz!

  The silhouette of his furry form became visible as a powerful pair of haunches launched him into the air. Unlike the unsuccessful football pass in her dream, Taz hit his mark. His thick, hefty body sailed from the counter, landing with full force on the top of the marauder’s shoulders. The long-curved claws that Sam had neglected to trim dug in as a deep, penetrating bite was delivered to the killer’s soft neck. The brutal assault caused the man swathed in black to emit his own shrill scream as he did his best to loosen the attack cat from his perch.

  Footsteps thundering up the stairs filtered in.

  About time!

  A moment later, her ex-acquaintance was in her doorway—frying pan in hand. Staying over and sleeping on the couch had been Lyddie’s plan. That was why she’d brought sleepwear and a change of clothes in the satchel that served as an overnighter—but why wasn’t she whacking the varmint like they’d discussed?

  The girl in the sequined sleepshirt was positively frozen.

  Why did Sam have to do everything?

  Why?

  Sam bounded out of bed and ripped the kitchen utensil out of her ex-acquaintance’s hands as Taz’s claws shredded the back of Swayzie’s neck. At least Lyddie had the good sense to grab the skillet made out of cast iron. You had to season them with olive oil, but they lasted forever and the heft came in handy at times like this.

  Swayzie was putting up a battle, knocking into furniture and continuing to howl, but Mr. Cuddles had things well under control. A pair of ginormous paws were draped over the intruder’s eyes, which made sight impossible. The tactic was brilliant, but left no wiggle room for Sam to bop the ex-con over the head. It was her cat draped over Swayzie’s cranium that had accounted for Lyddie’s paralysis.

  A strong pair of hands grappled with the furry body while Sam looked for an opening. But Taz’s battering caused an unforeseen benefit. The struggle caused the ex-con’s hold on the gun to dissolve. In another second, the weapon clunked to the floor, dislodging a shot that hit the wall. With the man’s hands free, Sam’s hunter/gatherer abandoned ship by leaping off and landing on the bed unscathed.