by Curry, Edna
He walked to his bathroom medicine cabinet, found some aspirin and downed them, then reached for a bottle of brandy, poured a glassful and drank deeply. This all night stuff was getting to him.
First, she needed a new present and then he’d get some rest. He was not letting that blonde bitch win. He was the boss. She had to learn not to cross him.
* * * *
The next afternoon, Loni and Matt locked their businesses, hung signs saying, “Closed for Don’s funeral,” on their doors and attended the service for Don Bowers.
As they were leaving the cemetery, Loni saw Ben and his deputy leaning against their police car, watching the mourners.
Irritated, she snapped at Ben, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m just doing my job, Loni. We’re directing traffic, for one thing. Also, perps have been known to attend the funerals of their victims, you know.”
“Really? That sounds morbid.”
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Hi, Sheriff,” Matt said coming up behind Loni, putting his hand on her waist.
She covered his hand with her own, evidently glad of his closeness and protective gesture. He knew the sheriff made her nervous, even though she’d known him a long time.
“So, did you see anyone suspicious?” Loni asked.
Ben said, “No, I can’t say that I did.”
“Did you find out anything new on that Chicago robbery?” Matt asked, hugging Loni closer when she flinched at his question.
“No. It’s still listed as unsolved. And I couldn’t find anything definite on Henry Jones. It’s such a common name and I’m betting it’s an alias, anyway. But I’ll keep working on it,” Ben promised.
“Is there anything new on Don’s accident?
“No. The car is too badly smashed and burned to tell us much. Don was thrown out on the way down the cliff and probably died instantly.”
Loni shivered at the image the sheriff’s words gave her. “Then, it could have been an accident, couldn’t it?”
He grimaced. “Well, until we can prove otherwise, yes, I have to list it as an accident. The message on that tape was too vague to be used as evidence.”
“I see.” She swallowed, trying to clear the lump of fear and frustration in her throat. Was her imagination working overtime? Maybe the message was only Hank’s sick idea of a joke, or a way to upset her because he was mad at her for breaking up with him.
“Well, I’d better get back to work,” Ben said, sliding behind the wheel of his squad car. He glanced at the mourners getting into their cars and motioned to his deputy to get in as well. “Take care.”
“Goodbye, Sheriff.”
They went back to the church basement for the traditional cake and coffee. Before leaving, Matt and Loni went to Janet to give her their condolences.
“I guess I won’t be your neighbor much longer,” Janet said. “I’m putting my house up for sale. My sister and niece want me to move to Florida to be closer to them now that there’s no one in my family left here in Minnesota.”
“I’m sorry you’re leaving, Janet.” Loni gave her a hug then she and Matt walked back to his car.
The summer sun had heated Matt’s car to an over-like temperature. “What a time for my air conditioner to be on the fritz,” he said, pressing the buttons to roll down all the windows. “It’s a good thing we’re only a few blocks from the mall.”
As they drove, Loni said, “Darn, I forgot to get my mail today.”
“We can stop at the post office on the way.”
Matt pulled up outside the post office and Loni stepped out. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Mrs. Saunders was just coming out of the door, so Loni couldn’t avoid her.
“Well, hello, Loni. You haven’t been back to the library for any more romances. Or are you too busy with the real thing these days?” She smirked at Matt, who sat listening through the open car window.
“I’ve been busy,” Loni hedged, trying not to blow her cool at the older lady.
“So I see. It’s Matt Bennes, today, isn’t it? I hear you were out with Don the night he died, too. You really are a busy girl.” She smirked again and strode off.
Her cheeks hot with anger, Loni went on into the post office, picked up the mail from her box and returned to the car.
Matt was frowning. “What was that all about with Mrs. Saunders?”
Loni avoided his eyes and got into the car. She closed the door carefully, refusing to give in to the urge to slam it to relieve her anger.
“Nothing, she’s only carrying an old grudge. I got a high school honor she thought should have gone to her twin grandsons. The woman has never liked me since.”
Matt drove back to the mall and parked. He turned to look at her. “I’d be a little careful around her, Loni. She sounded pretty nasty.”
“She’s only a harmless old lady, Matt. Don’t worry about it. I’ve been avoiding her by buying my books instead of getting them from the library.”
She smiled at him and they walked into the mall together to re-open their stores.
Matt waved to Loni as she unlocked her first floor store. He climbed the stairs to his own store, thinking. But what if the librarian isn’t harmless? What if Mrs. Saunders is the one threatening Loni to settle an old debt? I’ve always thought she was kind of an odd duck.
Chapter 8
The big man had worked for hours at his computer in Minneapolis and badly needed a break. Frustration made him restless. He needed a change from work.
He paced his office, stopping at his figurine collection. He picked up a magnetic duster and removed every speck of dust from each tiny carving. A rabbit with a bushy tail, a unicorn with a horn, a lion sporting a full mane and a squirrel with a high swirl of a tail. All hand carved in delightful detail.
His long, tapered fingers moved on another shelf. He lovingly caressed each of the small crystal decanters standing in a row, each holding a lock of blonde hair.
He realized it was tension, not frustration that made him so restless. He needed sexual release. He needed to make another hit. A quickie one-time meet would do. Not as satisfying as the longer chases, but—it was time for another addition to his collection. He moved to a cabinet drawer and pocketed a small empty decanter.
Not here, though. He wasn’t ready to move on yet—wasn’t leaving unfinished business behind. Somewhere else. Somewhere no one knew him and no one would connect him to the deed. Last night in a chat room, some guys had discussed a bar in Des Moines where they’d found easy pick-ups. He’d never been to Iowa. Four, maybe five hours by car. Perfect.
He showered, dressed carefully in casual clothes to appear successful and trustworthy. The kind of guy a woman wants. He printed off driving directions to the bar from a map site, and headed out. After renting a car using another assumed name and credit card, he headed down I35.
As he neared Des Moines, he took a small detour to check out the countryside. Abandoned farmsteads were commonplace here. Farmers bought up more land and the building sites of the acquired property fell to ruin. It appeared no one had gone near them for years. A perfect place. He noted directions to one with a tumble down barn, obviously unoccupied, and went back to the Interstate.
The bar was crowded and noisy, just as he liked them. He ordered a hamburger and beer and found a table along one wall. As he ate, he surveyed the patrons, choosing his prey. Several buxom blondes danced with partners. One met his gaze and asked him to dance, but he quickly ruled her out when her boyfriend reclaimed her. Damn—the bitch wasn’t interested in him, she’d just wanted to make her boyfriend jealous.
After several more dances, one blonde, Colleen Elling, made his choice and a pickup easy by inviting him to her place for a nightcap and whatever.
She said she wasn’t with anyone so he accepted, pretending to be more drunk than he was. He let her lead him to her place and he followed in his car.
He pulled a bottle of brandy from his trunk and slipped it into his pocket. He couldn’
t be sure she’d have liquor at her place, so he always took the precaution of bringing his own. He walked with a stumbling gait, letting her think he was already loaded.
“You need coffee or you’ll be of no use to me in bed,” she scolded. She helped him inside and fed him coffee and a dessert, then led him to her bed, playing right into his hands.
He let her undress him and he helped her out of her clothes as well. She had heavy, full breasts and, pleased, he fondled them as they tumbled into her soft, king-sized bed. He lay across her and began suckling her greedily. Jeez, how he’d needed this. It had been way too long since he’d had a woman.
She squirmed in pleasure and wriggled around to take his cock into her mouth in turn, suckling him like a pro. She was no novice to this. Under her expert ministrations, he lost it almost immediately, exploding into her mouth with a loud groan.
“Sorry,” he managed when he’d caught his breath.
“That’s okay,” she giggled. “I can make it hard again.”
“Okay. But first I want this.” He turned her around and spread her knees, then dropped his head and enjoyed the taste of her soft pussy. He slid his tongue in and out, then rubbed his fingers over her clit until she came over and over. He held her in place as he worked and she jerked and screamed in pleasure. “Oh, my God!”
Then he covered himself with a condom and slammed his cock into her again and again until she bucked and rose to meet each of his thrusts. “Oh, oh, oh.”
At last he let himself release his cum into her and dropped onto her, again roughly suckling her breasts until she begged him, “Oh, oh. Stop.”
He raised his head. “Really? You don’t like that?”
“I love it, but I have to catch my breath, too,” she said, panting, her legs still spread for him, holding him tightly to her in invitation of more.
Circling a raised nipple, he teased, “So, you don’t want me to quit, just slow down?”
She dropped back against the pillow, and smiled, then reached down and grabbed his cock and began sliding her fingers up and down it, then pulled him toward her. Ah, so she could play rough, too.
He took that as a yes, and started the process all over again. And they both came again. And came again until her screams of pleasure sounded hoarse and he was exhausted and at last felt satiated.
Then he sat up and suggested a nightcap before he left. She wrapped herself in a long, silky robe and went to the refrigerator for mixings. He slipped the Mickey into her drink when her back was turned. Simple, as by now, she was not only exhausted, but far drunker than he.
A glance at his Rolex told him it was after midnight, late enough for few people to be around to notice him. A few minutes later, she dropped her head on the table, out. He slipped on gloves, carefully went through her apartment and wiped his fingerprints from everything he’d touched. He double-checked her bedroom to be sure he hadn’t left any used condoms behind. He pulled off the sheets and put them in her washing machine and started them washing, just in case some smart cop tried to get DNA from them. Exhilaration sped up his pulse and heightened his excitement. He loved matching wits with the cops and getting away with it time after time. Would this be the time he got caught?
No one appeared on the tree-lined residential street as he carried her to his car and drove to the abandoned farmstead he’d found earlier.
He used a slim, nylon cord to finish her off, then a tiny scissors to clip his souvenir lock of hair and slip it into the tiny crystal decanter in his jacket pocket.
A dusty pile of hay in the corner of the barn would conceal her for now. By the time someone found her weeks from now, no one would remember him or connect him with her.
Like always, his method was quick, clean and quiet. No screaming to alert a passerby, no fighting that might leave scratches, DNA under her fingernails or bruises on him for others to question.
Soon, he blended into the long stream of vehicles heading north on I35. Satiated, calm and smiling now, he hummed along with an all music station.
* * * *
In Chicago, Detective Joe Jennings found a hit on his computer search for a murder similar in MO to Catherine Wells’. “Pay-dirt!” he exclaimed, sipping more stale coffee as he read the info on his screen.
This one had happened a year ago, in Milwaukee. Blonde woman, Sandra Bellows, twenty-eight, divorced and living alone. Last seen in a bar with friends who’d been told she was taking John, a new friend home for a nightcap and whatever—wink. None of the friends with her knew his last name or remembered anything more about him. “Nice, clean-cut looking guy,” one had said. But they’d all been drinking and she hadn’t told anyone any more about him. Nor had they noticed what he was driving.
Her body, found much later partially buried in an isolated ravine, didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know. If she’d had sex, as she’d implied to her friends she intended when she’d left the bar, they’d used a condom. Too much decomposition had set in to get any other evidence.
Then he’d found the clincher—a lock of hair had been cut down to the scalp in the middle of her forehead. Now Joe had enough to call in help. The souvenir killer, as he dubbed him, had crossed state lines, so they could get help from the FBI.
With mixed feelings, Joe got up and refilled his coffee cup. Yeah, maybe the Feds would take over his case. But he wanted to get this guy bad enough he could accept that.
* * * *
When Loni arrived home that evening, she found a long box from the local florist on her doorstep.
She resisted the urge to throw the package in the trash unopened, and with shaking fingers, tore away the wrapping. As she suspected, it held another fresh yellow rose.
This time she found a note, saying, “I love you. We’re meant to be together always. When may I see you again? I’ll call you later. Love and kisses, Hank.”
Would the man never give up? She threw the whole thing in the trash can, and made a pot of tea to settle her jangled nerves. Remembering that Ben had said he needed evidence, she retrieved the note from the garbage and tucked it in her purse. She tried to imagine the sheriff’s reaction to Hank’s words and grimaced. Ben might laugh, saying he saw no threat at all.
Her stomach churned in confusion. Was she wrong? Could Hank have done something as awful as running Don off the road and killing him one day and then sent her a sweet note the next? Why? It made no sense.
She paced from the kitchen to the living room, stopping when the phone rang. She waited, refusing to answer until the answering machine kicked in and she heard Maria’s voice leaving her a message. “Loni? Aren’t you home yet? Can I come by to talk about our plans for Jolene’s birthday party?”
Oh, yes. She’d agreed to help with the party. Loni grabbed the phone and said, “Hi, Maria. I just walked in. Sure, come on over.”
“Good, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? I’ll stop and pick up a pizza for us. What do you like on yours?”
“I like pepperoni and extra cheese.”
“Me, too. See you in a little bit.”
Maria arrived and they sat at the kitchen table eating pizza and chatting.
“We’d better get something planned for this birthday party. I want it to be special,” Maria said.
“Cindy said she’d bake a cake,” Loni said, putting their plates in the dishwasher.
Maria picked up the empty pizza box and carried it to the garbage can. “What’s this florist’s box doing in the trash? Someone sent you flowers? And you didn’t even tell me! Oh, a lovely rose!” She held the yellow rose to her nose, sniffing appreciatively.
“Leave it there!” Loni snapped. “I don’t want it.” She grabbed the rose from Maria’s hand, shoved it back into the trash, slapped the cover on to hide it from sight and then sucked her hand. “Damn, a thorn.”
“You don’t want a fresh rose?” Maria’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, give. What’s going on? Did you have a fight with someone? Matt?”
Loni sighed and closed the dish
washer door. “No, not Matt.” She came back and sat at the table. “I dated this guy back in Chicago for a short time before I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. But he won’t take no for an answer.”
“Oh, that’s so romantic, Loni. Is he cute?”
Loni scowled at her. “Yes, he’s very good looking, a tall, muscular blond. But this is not romantic at all, it’s scary.”
Maria frowned. “Why is it scary? Does he threaten you?”
Loni hesitated, then said, “Yes, in awful voice messages. Disguised. Saying I belong to him and warning he can always find me.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yes. Other times, he sends notes.”
“Notes? What do they say?”
Loni sighed and rubbed the knot of tension in the back of her neck. She got the note and showed it to Maria.
Maria read the note, and looked up, a puzzled expression on her face. “What’s scary about saying he loves you?”
“He doesn’t. It’s more like he’s decided that I’m his property, you know?”
“But if all he’s doing is sending love notes and flowers, what’s the problem?”
Loni shuddered. “I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want him to say that or call me, don’t you see? The man never gives up.”
“You’ve told him no?”
Loni crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Over and over. I’ve changed my phone number and moved several times. He always finds me again.”
Maria flipped her long dark hair back and raised an eyebrow. “That is creepy.”
“Please, let’s not talk about it. It makes me ill.” Was her stalker Hank or someone else?
* * * *
After Maria left, Loni locked up and dug up her phone book. She went through the yellow pages until she found a locksmith and phoned him to make arrangements for better security on Dee’s house. He agreed to install a new system, but couldn’t do it until Monday.
Later that evening, the phone rang. She let the answering machine pick up, but heard Hank’s familiar voice.
“Hi, Loni, it’s me, Hank. Did you get the rose? I remember you always loved yellow roses. I meant what I said in that note. We really are meant for each other.
