Quick Fix

by Linda Grimes

  Thelma was watching us avidly, enjoying our interaction. I gestured toward the big boss with my chin. “Why drag her into it? You obviously got what you wanted.”

  “That was Suze’s idea,” Monica said. “Why shouldn’t I make some quick and easy money? All the rest of you adaptors do.”

  “But how did you know Suze?”

  Monica shrugged. “She came to my parents’ restaurant one day. Introduced herself, and after my shift was over, we went for coffee. Let’s just say I liked her ideas. I agreed to introduce her to Brian—she was looking for an in with your family—and she agreed my bank account could use some upholstering. I was damn sick of being a waitress.”

  “I don’t understand—your parents are well-off. You went to college. You don’t have to wait tables for a living.”

  “My parents suffer under the delusion that it’s healthy to work for a living, and that restaurant owners should learn the business from the ground up. The restaurant was supposed to be my nest egg, since I didn’t inherit the family talent and all, and apparently supporting oneself is good for the self-esteem.” The last was said with enough disgust to let me know where she came down on the matter.

  “Fine. I understand about the money—you’re a greedy bitch.” Her lips tightened in a gratifying manner. I hurried on. “I get that now. But why risk using an untested formula on yourself? Geez, you’re stunning. If I had to be stuck with just one aura, I sure wouldn’t mind yours.”

  “Why, thank you, Ciel. What a lovely compliment.” Apparently it distracted her from the “greedy bitch” thing I’d let slip—gotta love a limited attention span. “But what good is a female aura, no matter how beautiful, if you’re in love with a gay man?”

  “What? James? You love my brother?” Holy crap. How had none of us ever realized? “But you could have any man. Why…?”

  “Why James? Oh, maybe because he’s gorgeous and brilliant, and totally understands how it feels not to be the one thing you really want to be. He’s always so nice to me. He gets me. How could I not love him?” Tears glistened in her eyes.

  “God, Monica. I’m … sorry.” And I really was, at least a little bit. It’s hard for me not to identify with unrequited love. “But someday you’ll meet the right—”

  The tears dried at once, leaving her eyes hard-set with more of the crazy. “There is no one else for me. If James can’t love this … this female thing that I am, then I’ll be someone he can love.” And slowly, the effort showing, she became Devon once more.

  I looked at Thelma sharply. Her face had gone from phony warm to calculating. “See?” she said. “There’s no reason we can’t all benefit from some sort of arrangement.” Holy shit. She was as loony as Monica. I had a bad feeling about this.

  “Monica,” I said carefully, “where’s the real Devon? You had to pick up his aura somewhere—it’s too good to be cardboard.”

  She puffed up, pleased with herself. “He won’t be a problem. We gave him some money and sent him off to Hollywood to find fame and fortune. After I got his cell phone with all that handy information, naturally. That was Thelma’s idea.” She glanced at the older woman, making good use of Devon’s fuck-me smile. “Of course, he won’t make it all the way there. He’s so pretty he’d probably become a huge celebrity, and wouldn’t that be awkward. But don’t worry, I’ll be so much better for James than he ever was. Loyal. I’d never cheat on him with a woman the way Devon did.”

  Okay, this was really freaking me out. The car was moving too fast for the moment, but next stoplight …

  Thelma casually pulled a small gun from her understated Coach bag and laid it on her lap, leaving her hand wrapped loosely around the grip. What was she, a mind reader? Better keep talking to Monica.

  “How do you know Devon cheated on James?” I asked.

  “Who do you think was the woman he cheated with?” she said, her Devon voice laced with pride.

  “Geez, Monica, and that makes you better than Devon how, exactly?” I blurted.

  “Don’t be silly,” she explained patiently. “I didn’t want to cheat. I only did it to show James that Devon couldn’t be trusted. Too bad that didn’t seem to matter—he’d still rather have Devon. But James never blamed me. Our friendship meant more to him than that.”

  “Meant?”

  “Well, yes. Because I’m dead now, don’t you see? You should—you found my body. If I’m going to be Devon from now on, I couldn’t very well keep up with being her, could I? It’s hard enough to keep track of one life.”

  Um, yeah. Back in Crazy Town. I almost told her that James knew she wasn’t really dead—that he was onto the whole fake-her-own-death thing—but then I thought better of it. Hell, the woman had just shot me. No telling what she’d try if she thought her plans weren’t going to work out.

  “Wow. You know what, Monica? That’s really kind of brilliant. I’m glad my brother is going to be with someone who obviously loves him so much.” Yeah, I know. It didn’t sound sincere to me, either. But I had to try.

  Oddly, Monica swallowed it whole. Thelma, on the other hand, wasn’t buying it. “You’ll see it’s the best thing for all concerned, Ciel,” she said. “Besides, you’d like working with your new lover, wouldn’t you?”

  That made me sit up straight. Ouch. Stupid gunshot wound. “You have Billy?”

  “Not precisely. But I’m quite sure he’ll be happy to work for me, after the police finish investigating Monica’s disappearance.”

  “Billy didn’t kill anyone. You can’t blackmail him with that.”

  “Well, no, he didn’t. But you weren’t the only one to see him in an intimate embrace with Monica—several party guests did, too.”

  “His clothes—you sent that guy Billy’s clothes. How’d you get them?” I asked.

  “Oh, that was easy,” Monica said. “I just grabbed them when I was picking up Molly to take her to James’s lab for our little field trip. A big handbag, a quick trip to the ‘bathroom’ upstairs while Mo was busy with Molly, and voilà! The authentic touch.”

  Thelma nodded. “And now traces of poor, missing Monica’s blood are all over your parents’ grotto—”

  “How? She wasn’t really shot, or stabbed, or whatever you set up,” I said.

  “Drawn ahead of time, and spread by Monica when no one was looking. And it’s so difficult to remove blood entirely, you know. Also, I’m afraid you were witnessed violently attacking your lover’s car. We have pictures. Susan Hatcher is handy with a telephoto lens.”

  So Suze had been there. All of a sudden I was freezing. Great. Fucking fantastic. “What makes you think Billy is my lover?”

  “Please. After what you did to his car? Such a temper you have!” Thelma chided. “The little something Susan added to your Manhattan might have loosened your inhibitions, but there had to be a basis for it to work with. It won’t be difficult for the police to put two and two together, and convict you of Monica’s murder.”

  “You drugged me?” I was outraged, of course, but part of me was kind of relieved that what I did to Billy’s car wasn’t my fault. “How?”

  “Quite easily. Susan had some doctored cherries with her, and slipped them into your glass while you were distracted. You always order Manhattans, don’t you, dear? We’ll have to teach you not to be quite so predictable.”

  “But there’s no body,” I said, ignoring the implication that I’d be working for her. I was pretty sure you had to have a body to make a murder conviction stick.

  “No, but there are pictures of a body, which can easily be sent to the police by an ‘anonymous’ source. Those, coupled with the blood evidence, and the proof of your violent temper … Well, it could get very messy for you indeed. Unless, of course, Billy decides to cooperate.”

  “How could you know about Billy and me ahead of time—that the drug would make me bash up the Chevy?” I swallowed hard, still feeling somewhat guilty in spite of the extenuating circumstances. Mom’s saying kept creeping into the back of my he
ad. God punishes … Damn. I knew the thing with Billy’s car would come back and bite me on the ass somehow. I’d just thought it would be Billy doing the biting.

  “Oh, we didn’t,” Thelma said pleasantly. “That was just a fortunate turn of events. Before we knew you and Billy were involved—you really should be more discreet about kissing in doorways, my dear; you never know who might be watching—we’d been planning to set up Billy for Monica’s murder. A lover’s quarrel gone bad, that sort of thing. We thought we were very clever, killing two birds with one stone—making Monica disappear, as she wanted, and getting leverage over Billy. But when this opportunity presented itself, we couldn’t resist. This way we get you, too. You’re like a bonus. The third bird, so to speak.”

  “Well, isn’t that nice?” I said with just a trace of a Southern drawl. A former client had once told me any woman south of the Mason-Dixon Line knew that particular phrase, when delivered with the right amount of saccharine, meant “fuck you.” Thelma’s smile froze, so I guessed she had some confederates in her ancestry.

  “It is for me,” she said, shaking off my little zing. (It had been kind of pathetic.) “Don’t you worry, dear. You’re going to love working for me. I understand you at one time planned your own career with our agency and were sidetracked by Mark?”

  Where the fuck was she getting her information?

  She answered my unspoken question. “Yes, I’ve been following your life for some time. Your whole family, in fact. Once I learned about Mark, his connection to you made you all quite interesting.”

  “Peachy,” I said.

  “Look at it this way—now you’ll be able to fulfill your dream. And Billy … well, he practically works for us as it is. It won’t be that big a change for him, other than reporting to me instead of Mark.”

  “But why do you need us at all? Monica got you the fucking formula. Why not just make your own adaptors out of some gung-ho Agency sheep?”

  “You know the answer to that. It won’t work on just anyone, will it? You have to have a latent adaptor gene, and that’s a rare thing. Besides”—she glanced warily at Monica—“who knows what side effects might emerge. It will require further study.”

  “Hey, Monica … or Devon—whoever the fuck you want to be—how does it feel to be Thelma’s guinea pig?” I said. Why should I be the only uncomfortable person in the car?

  The Devon aura wavered, the violet eyes shifting to deep, dark brown. “I don’t mind a bit—I’d do anything for James.”

  “Never mind that, Ciel,” Thelma said, sounding peeved. “That’s between Monica and myself. Just as the agreement I come to with Billy is between me and him. I’m sure he’ll jump at the opportunity to keep his sister safe.”

  I leaned toward her. “If you hurt Molly in any way, I’ll—”

  She lifted the gun from her lap. I edged back.

  “Calm down, my dear. You’ll jostle your wound. I have no intention of harming that wonderful child. We’ll study her, of course. Her … fluke, shall we say?… is fascinating. I’m sure Billy will be happy to convince his parents of the wisdom of sending her to a special school I have in mind for her.”

  “Lady, you are so far off base you’re not even in the ballpark,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “Billy will never do that.”

  “Hey, why are we at the hospital?” Monica-Devon said.

  Shit. I looked up. Something told me I wasn’t going to like helicopters any more than I liked planes.

  Chapter 29

  “How very considerate of you, Thelma,” I said after the Hulk helped first her, then me, out of the car. Guess Monica in Devon form didn’t rate gentlemanly treatment. “I really should have this arm looked at. Wouldn’t want to risk an infection.”

  Thelma’s smile was gone. “If you’re wise you’ll come along quietly, Ciel. Remember, I know where your family lives. Your kind are good at fading into society and leaving your problems behind, but one text from me could have someone at your parents’ house before they have a chance to get away.”

  “Geez, you are one cold bitch, aren’t you?”

  “Not really. I have a Company doctor waiting for you on the helicopter. He’ll give you something for the pain. Morphine, maybe. Perhaps I should have him come down here and administer it before we walk through the hospital. Will that be necessary, Ciel?”

  Shit. “No need for that, Thel. I’m not going to say or do anything that will put my family at risk.”

  “I knew you were a smart one. We’re going to work together very well.”

  The elevator ride was tons of fun, sandwiched between Monica-Devon and the Hulk, with the cardigan from Thelma’s beige twinset draped over my shoulders to hide the bloody strip of T-shirt, and her gun, hidden under an artfully draped scarf, jabbing my waist. If this was karma for Billy’s car, payback was an unfair bitch.

  Monica was starting to sweat, the Devon aura wobbling more. Crap, I thought, suddenly hit with a new worry. What if Molly was having the same problem? What if she was still up the tree when she lost her orangutan climbing abilities? Shit, shit, shit. What had I done?

  The helicopter was landing as we got there. My, how synchronized of everyone. Wasn’t that just peachy? Thelma gave me a shove in its direction but stopped abruptly when Harvey stepped out of it. He signaled to the pilot, who shut down the engine, leaving us in relative quiet.

  “Intercepting my communications, Harvey? Tsk, tsk. And here I thought we trusted each other,” Thelma said. She didn’t sound particularly worried, which kind of worried me.

  Harvey tilted his head and lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “You know what they say. Trust but verify.” He paused, his eyes surprisingly sympathetic. “It’s not going to work, Thelma.”

  She set her shoulders back. “It already has. Give it up, Harvey. You have Fielding, and now I have my own ‘special’ agents. Let’s just try to work together on this and keep the collateral damage to a minimum.”

  “Can’t do that, Thelma. You know I gave my word—and, by extension, the Company’s—to Mark. We’re not going back on that. None of us.”

  “Well, aren’t you the king of ethics all of a sudden? Ironic, considering how you’ve kept Fielding dancing at the end of your string with this asinine promise to leave the rest of them alone. If that’s not subtle blackmail, I don’t know what is.”

  Harvey shook his head sadly. “You still don’t get it, do you? Mark approached me. It was his idea. After I made a ham-fisted attempt to recruit his best friend—and failed—I almost lost Mark. I never made that mistake again.”

  “Label it what you will. I never agreed to let you speak for me—I made no promises. Now, if you’ll excuse us, the pilot is waiting.”

  “You can go, Thelma—in fact, I insist you do—but the others are staying with me,” Harvey said. For the first time I noticed two men in black suits in the back of the helicopter. They were watching us all closely. I was beginning to suspect they might be Harvey’s, not Thelma’s.

  Looked like the same thought occurred to Thelma. “This is my operation, Harvey. Stay out of it, or you might find yourself taking early retirement. I still have some pull with your boss, you know.”

  I snorted. That was her threat? Early retirement? Ooooh, scary!

  She jabbed me in the ribs with the muzzle of her gun. Okay, that was scary. I couldn’t even tell if Harvey knew she was armed—the small gun was still covered with the scarf, and the stylish handbag hooked over her wrist was an excellent excuse to hold her arm at that angle. He might not think anything of it.

  His eyes were still full of pity. Only now he seemed to be enjoying it. “Nah, I think I’ll be staying around for a while longer. Not quite ready to give up the game yet. You, on the other hand, might want to consider bowing out while your pension is still intact.”

  Thelma’s turn to laugh. “Now, why would I worry about my pension when I’m just doing my job, recruiting valuable assets? Ask any of them—they’re with me every bit as voluntarily as Mark i
s with you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” He signaled the Hulk, who pulled a small device out of his pocket and pushed a button. The words were a little muffled, but recognizably Thelma’s.

  “… we’d been planning to set up Billy for Monica’s murder. A lover’s quarrel gone bad, that sort of thing. We thought we were very clever, killing two birds with one stone—making Monica disappear, as she wanted, and getting leverage over Billy. But when this opportunity presented itself, we couldn’t resist. This way we get you, too. You’re like a bonus. The third bird, so to speak.”

  “That doesn’t sound voluntary to me. Be a shame if it made the press. The Company really doesn’t much care for that kind of PR,” Harvey said, his easygoing delivery belied by the hardness of his eyes.

  Thelma was staring at the Hulk, uncomprehending at first, then furious. “You disloyal piece of shit. I made you.”

  “Aw, don’t be too mad at your driver, Thelma. I’m sure he’s just as loyal to you as ever. Wherever he is,” Harvey said as the Hulk’s stony face was replaced by Billy’s charming countenance.

  “You,” Thelma said at the time that I said, “Billy!” I’m guessing I sounded much happier than she did.

  “The original,” Billy said, flashing his dimples. “Accept no substitutes.”

  I wanted to run to him so badly, but there was still the small problem of the gun muzzle in my ribs. Having already been shot once that evening (which still hurt like seven levels of hell in spite of my elation at Billy’s unexpected appearance), I had no wish for an encore.

  Monica, more and more of her own brand of exotic beauty showing through, started inching back toward the door. Billy blocked her, pulling out the gun he’d taken from her after she’d shot me. Deflated, she dropped the rest of the Devon aura and seemed to shrink in on herself. I had a feeling there was lots of therapy in her future.

  “Ciel, why don’t you come over here to me,” Harvey said in that sweet, avuncular way he had. Honestly, I could see why Laura liked him so much. I wanted to hug him myself.