It was luscious.
Heavenly.
After so many rough hours of fear and pain and strenuous labor, I’d come to a place of peace. My arms drifted beneath the surface, weightless and limp by my sides. My legs, open and bent at the knees, lingered at mid-depth as if held off the bottom by ribbons of silk. I heard little more than the quiet lapping of water. My muffled heartbeat sounded calm. Breathing slowly, I felt hot currents rub against my chest and breasts.
I supposed it would be a good idea to sit up, soap myself and shampoo my hair. But I couldn’t force myself to abandon the luxury of lounging motionless.
Suspended in the lazy heat.
After a while, my mind seemed to slide off into the air and drift out over the woods. I wasn’t searching for anything, just drifting. But when I saw the glow of a campfire, I went down for a closer look.
I found Judy suspended from the limb like before, shiny as oil and glowing with firelight. She still wore the red bandana loose around her neck.
But all her injuries were gone.
She looked beautiful.
As I walked up to her, she said, “I knew you’d come back, Alice.”
“Then you knew more than me.”
“I’ve always known more than you,” she said, and gave me a sly grin.
“I didn’t even know how to find this place,” I told her.
“How did you find it?”
“Just luck. It’s been my lucky night.”
“Mine, too,” Judy said.
“How do you figure that?”
“You came back for me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I did. I couldn’t just leave you here.”
“You’re such a softie.”
“That’s me,” I said, and smiled.
“Give me a kiss, you softie.”
Her words shocked me, thrilled me. I laughed and shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. Thanks anyway, but…”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she said.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You love me, don’t you?”
“No!”
“You came back because you love me.”
“That isn’t why.”
“Then why?”
“Only because it was wrong to leave you here. And because I don’t want you to die like this. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you died like this. You never did anything to hurt me. And you helped me with Milo.”
“You love me, don’t you?”
“Stop saying that.”
“Kiss me, and I’ll stop saying it.”
“I don’t want to kiss you.”
“Yes, you do.” She slid her tongue slowly across her lips, moistening them so they glistened. “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt a bit.”
“I know it won’t hurt,” I said. “That’s not why.”
“Then why?”
“Just because.”
“I’ll never tell,” she said. “I promise. Nobody will ever find out about this. It’ll be our secret, just between you and me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve wanted to kiss me from the start.”
“No.”
“Everywhere. You’ve wanted to kiss me everywhere. My mouth, my breasts…”
“Shut up.”
“Everywhere.”
“No.”
“Do it, Alice. Now. I want you. And I want you more than anything.”
I nodded, trembling. Then, I leaned in until our bodies met, and kissed Judy lightly on her open lips.
Her arms and legs clamped around me.
“Now I’ve got ya, bitch!”
But it wasn’t Judy saying that.
It was a man, his voice low and scratchy and gleeful.
This wasn’t Judy at all, not anymore. It was Milo, face bloody and eyes bulging, squeezing me so hard with his arms and legs that I was sinking deep into the soft bulges of his body, being enveloped by him. As I tried to scream, his mouth covered mine. His writhing lips felt slimy. He stuck his tongue into my mouth. Only it wasn’t his tongue. It was hard and thick, and he shoved it in deep. Thrust it down my throat.
I’ll bite it off, you…!
I suddenly came wide awake and found myself staring up through the water.
Shit!
I rammed my elbows against the bottom of the tub and burst through the surface fast, choking. I sat there, wracked with coughs. Some water had found its way into the wrong place, that was for sure. Probably not much, but enough to keep me coughing for a while.
After I finished, my chest ached every time I took a deep breath.
I was okay, but didn’t feel much like trying to relax in the water again. For one thing, I might catch another snootful. For another, I didn’t want any more dreams.
Dreams are so damn weird. If you ask me, the point of every single dream and nightmare is just to torment you. That’s all any of them ever do. They scare the crap out of you or they humiliate you. Or else they tantalize you with a situation that is really fabulous, wonderful beyond belief—only to jerk it away from you.
They twist things.
They really suck.
And they seem to be ten times worse—more real and more twisted—when you’re really tired.
I was hugely tired, so I didn’t dare relax again. I opened the bathtub drain and got to my feet. The water almost came up to my knees. The tub was so large, though, that I didn’t need to worry about it overflowing. As the water gurgled out, I slid the plastic curtain shut, turned the faucets on, and lifted the gizmo to start the shower.
The hot, stiff spray hissed down, pelting my scalp and face and shoulders. It felt great.
But two things were wrong.
First, the water made too much noise coming out, splashing my skin, pattering against the plastic curtain, raining against the water pooled in the tub. It made me worry about all the things I couldn’t hear. In other rooms, phones might be ringing. A window might be breaking. Someone could even kick open a door and I wouldn’t be able to hear it.
Second, the frosted white shower curtain hung between me and my saber.
What if I needed it?
After worrying for a while, I slid open the shower curtain, bent over and picked up the saber. I brought it in with me. Then I shut the curtain again and set the sword on the bottom of the tub.
I couldn’t hear any better, of course, but now I had a weapon. That made things all right.
I went ahead with my shower, sudsing myself all over with a bar of soap, then shampooing my hair, always being careful where I put my feet.
Naturally, nobody came along and tried to attack me.
They never attack you when you’re ready for them.
How about if old Mother Bates had swept open the shower curtain and found Janet Leigh facing her with a cavalry saber! Would’ve changed the course of movie history.
Anyway, I was ready. But nobody came.
Just as well. I’d had a long night.
When I was done with the shower, I turned off the water and opened the curtain. Squatting down, I picked up the sword. Then I climbed out of the tub, set the sword aside and stepped over to the towel rod.
Two matching bath towels hung there. They both looked clean, but I could tell that they weren’t fresh from the laundry. I didn’t know which had been used by Serena, which by Charlie, so I just grabbed one and started drying myself with it. The towel was enormous, thick and soft. As I buried my face in it, I wondered who it had rubbed, and where. Not that it mattered much. I was just curious, that’s all. Either of them using it on any parts of themselves was fine with me, and nice to think about.
After drying myself, I dried the sword. I was very careful doing that, because I didn’t want to cut the towel.
Then I applied some of Serena’s roll-on deodorant to my underarms. I knew this was hers, not Charlie’s, because I recognized the scent.
I used Serena’s hairbrush. The mirror was fogged up, except near the bo
ttom, so I had to squat very low in order to see my head in it. I gave my hair a quick brushing, then stood up again.
Finally, I put on Charlie’s silk robe and left the bathroom. Of course, I took along my sword and bag of goodies.
While I’d been in the tub, the sun had come up. Even with most of the curtains shut, the house was filled with grayish light.
In the laundry room, I took all my things out of the washing machine. I loaded them into the drier and started it. Then I went to the front door.
I opened it and walked to the edge of the stoop.
Morning was here, all right. The sun was still very low in the east. It spread brilliant, golden light across the lawn, making the dew sparkle. There didn’t seem to be any breeze at all. The warm, moist air smelled of flowers and grass. Birds twittered in the distance. I heard a woodpecker somewhere. Insects were humming and buzzing. It was as quiet and peaceful all around me as a forest glen.
It was lovely.
When I stepped down, the grass felt warm and wet under my bare feet. I wandered slowly, looking for bloodstains and pieces of Tony. I saw a few butterflies. And some bees. But nothing bad.
The lawn seemed fine.
I was about to take a closer look at the driveway, but heard the far off sound of a car engine. It sent a tremor through my stomach. I figured the car must be coming here. Quickly, I turned around and walked toward the front door.
The car sound grew louder.
Cops?
No way, I told myself. They couldn’t be after me. Not yet, anyway, and probably never.
What if it’s Serena and Charlie?
Maybe something had gone wrong with their trip. It hardly seemed likely. Anything was possible, though. People do return home unexpectedly.
I felt cold and sick inside with the idea that it might be them. I could probably hang up the sword and clear out the clothes drier in time, but what about Judy’s car in the garage?
I leaped onto the stoop, planting wet footprints on the concrete, and rushed to the front door.
The car sounded as if it had almost reached the driveway.
Brakes squeaked a bit.
I shoved open the door and ducked inside.
Before I had a chance to shut the door, though, I heard a familiar sound.
THWAP!
I’d rarely been outside at this time of the morning, but I’d sometimes heard such a sound coming through my windows above the garage.
It was the Chester Tribune smacking the pavement near the end of the driveway.
Standing in the doorway, I shook my head and smiled. I felt like a dope for being so scared.
After the sound of the car engine faded, I went to get the paper. On my way up the driveway, I looked again for evidence of Tony.
There was nothing.
The paper had landed on the pavement a few yards down from the top, so I didn’t need to go all the way to the road. I went the rest of the way to the top, anyhow, just to take a look around.
Everything seemed fine.
I walked back and forth on the road in front of the house, searching.
Satisfied that there was nothing to find, I returned to the driveway. On the way down, I picked up the newspaper. I peeled off its rubber band and unrolled it.
The headline read:
ALICE SOUGHT IN MURDER SPREE!
Just kidding.
I half expected it to say that, but it didn’t.
I don’t remember what the hell the headline was. It had nothing to do with me.
As I carried the Tribune down toward the house, though, it gave me an idea.
28
YVONNE
Until I’ve had a cup of hot, black coffee, I’m useless in the morning. And this qualified as morning, even though I’d never gone to bed.
Back inside the house, I tossed the Tribune onto the kitchen table and set to work making a pot of coffee. I knew right where to find everything. Before long, the cozy aroma of coffee filled the kitchen.
I had to wait for the pot to fill, though, so I sat at the table and looked through the newspaper. It didn’t contain a single story about anything I’d been involved with last night.
Nothing in the Obituary section, either.
None of which came as much of a surprise.
When the coffee was ready, I poured myself a mugful. I almost took it outside to drink it by the pool. That would’ve been nice on such an early, lovely morning. On my way to one of the back doors, though, I remembered what the prowler’d done. That changed my mind. So I returned to the kitchen table and looked at the newspaper again while I enjoyed my first mug of coffee.
I went straight to the movie ads. I like movies. Chester had a cineplex with six theaters. Not bad for such a worthless little town. Some good stuff was playing. I checked the times on a couple of them, and wondered about going to a movie today.
Why not? I deserved a treat, the way I’d toughed it out and taken care of so many problems.
One problem still needed to be dealt with, though.
Tony’s redial.
I now had a plan.
If it works, I thought, I’ll take in a movie afterward to celebrate.
When I went for a refill on my coffee, I checked the clock on the kitchen wall.
6:20.
I should probably wait until after 8:00 to try out my idea.
To help pass the time, I decided to make myself a huge breakfast. Normally, I don’t have any breakfast at all—just coffee. But I’d had a long, hard night. I’d gotten enough exercise to kill off a high-school football team, picked up scads of minor injuries (food heals), and must’ve burnt off one or two zillion calories. I deserved a feast.
While a skillet full of bacon was sizzling on a burner, I made myself a Bloody Mary. I prepared it my special way—half tomato juice and half vodka, double the usual amount of Worcestershire Sauce and Tabasco to give it a real bite. After stirring it around with ice cubes, I squeezed a slice of lime into it. Then I sprinkled ground pepper over the top.
It tasted so fine.
I sipped it while I finished tending to the bacon, made some toast and fried a couple of eggs. After buttering the toast, I topped each slice with an egg. Then I sat at the table and devoured it all.
One of the best things you can put in your mouth is a piece of buttered toast that’s dripping with egg yellow. Try it by itself, or with a chunk of egg white and a bite of bacon. Wash it down with coffee or a Bloody Mary. Mmmmm.
I hated to see the last of it go.
After breakfast, I did the dishes and skillet by hand and put everything away. I was tempted to have another Bloody Mary, but resisted the urge. One had been enough to make me feel pleasant. A second might knock me off my feet.
I needed to have my wits about me—and my feet under me—for taking care of the redial problem.
Before leaving the house, I hung the saber on the wall where it belonged. I also hung Charlie’s robe in the bedroom closet and put on my swimsuit from yesterday. The swimsuit was all I had to wear, because I didn’t want to use Tony’s clothes again now that they’d been washed. In the laundry room, I emptied the drier and stuffed everything into a grocery bag.
Carrying my bags, my purse, and the Chester Tribune, I left the house and went up to my room over the garage.
It was nice to be in my own place again. It felt so safe and cozy. I wished I could stay—climb into bed and bury myself under the covers and sleep for ages.
Maybe later.
A lot later.
First, I needed to hide Tony’s things. I hung up his shirt in my closet, just as if it were my own. I folded the cut-offs and slipped them into a dresser drawer where I kept other pairs of shorts. The handkerchief and bandana also went into drawers. I put the note pad and both sets of keys in my purse. I hid the cassette tape in a chest pocket of an old flannel shirt near the back of my closet.
That left nothing except the severed denim legs of Tony’s jeans. They certainly weren’t incriminating, so
there was no reason to hide or destroy them. I decided to take them out to the car with me. They might make good rags. So I folded them and set them near my purse.
Next, I took off my swimsuit. I put on thong panties and a bra, then stood like a dope and wondered what else to wear.
Making the decision wasn’t easy. Mostly because I didn’t really know what I’d be doing. Also, maybe, because I needed sleep. And the Bloody Mary might’ve had a little to do with it.
Finally, I made up my mind and got dressed.
With my purse, the morning newspaper and the denim legs, I hurried downstairs and let myself into the lower part of the garage.
I took Judy’s car.
I didn’t like the idea of driving it around. I wanted to dump it somewhere and be done with it, but using my own car for a mission like this would’ve been idiotic.
Judy’s car, at least, couldn’t be traced to me.
And I doubted that anyone would recognize me. Not in my sunglasses and red wig.
Yeah, I had a wig on.
I kept a small collection of them, just in case. A gal never knows when she might want to alter her appearance a bit. Or a lot.
The curly red hair looked pretty damn gawdy, but that was the idea. Gawdy all the way. My lipstick was too bright, too red. My gold hoop earrings were the size of bracelets. If people saw me, that’s what they would see. They’d never stand a chance of recognizing—or identifying—me, Alice.
I drove to the busy area near the highway. Some of the locals call it “motel row.” But it had a lot more than just motels. Along both sides of the highway were tons of restaurants and gas stations, and even some fruit stands and gift shops.
There were also scads of public telephones.
You hardly ever find phones in enclosed booths, anymore. I didn’t want to deal with highway noise, so I parked the car and went into a restaurant called Pokey’s. The hostess was busy seating a family, so I went straight for the restrooms. Near the end of the corridor, I found two public phones between the doors marked Guys and Dolls.
After Midnight Page 18
