Killer Chameleon

by Chassie West

  He chuckled. “Almost as much as you love the house? I’m touched. Hey, tell Tina to call Clarissa. She’s misplaced her sister and seems to think Tina might know where she is. See you shortly.”

  He hung up, and I danced a little jig. The fact that he remembered the house and hadn’t said no immediately was a good sign. And this really would solve a problem for me. Aunt Frances, my mother’s oldest sister, had offered me free room and board whenever I needed to stay once I started on the job. I could even have the room my mom had shared with her baby sister. So far I hadn’t figured a diplomatic way to turn her down. There was a lot of history in her home, and I still had a lot to learn about my mother’s years growing up there. But I wanted to absorb all that at my own pace without Aunt Frances hovering in the background.

  I also wanted to cook and eat when I felt like it, leave dirty clothes lying around if I was too tired to make it to the hamper, parade around in the altogether if the spirit moved me. I needed my own space, one I could share with Duck, of course. Now I might have it.

  There had been a lot of changes in my life in the last eighteen months. Duck had gone from best friend to fiancé. I was no longer one hundred percent, my knee tacked together like a jigsaw puzzle, forcing me to leave a job I loved rather than settle for desk duty. I was no longer the orphan I thought I was; I had family coming out of my ears. And whereas I’d always considered Sunrise as the “down home” I returned to as often as I could, my attitude about Ourland/Umber Shores was gradually changing.

  I’d considered it charming and interesting at first, a nice place to get away for a weekend if I was so inclined. Once I had been asked to set up their police force, it became a community in which I’d be working and staying overnight when necessary. Sometime within the last hour or so, however, another change had begun, the thought that this little town might become home with a capital H. There was a lot to be said for it, a lot that appealed to me, surprising since I had come to love the District so much. Yet for the first time I realized that I really wouldn’t miss it that much. In its own way Ourland was much closer to Sunrise, where my heart would always be.

  I sensed the same brand of small-town intimacy and caring here as had nurtured me there. Ourland/ Umber Shores, or whatever the residents finally decided to call it, could become my hometown, my permanent haven.

  I could only hope that Duck would eventually see it the same way, but I had good reason to be concerned. He had D.C. in his blood, was proud to say that he was a native because there weren’t all that many in the city; practically everyone was from somewhere else. Now I wanted to be somewhere else—here. I also wanted Duck and was terrified that I couldn’t have both.

  I opened the sliding door and stuck my head in, interrupting what appeared to be a very weighty discussion in the kitchen.

  “Hey, y’all, Duck’s coming out. Tina, he says to call Clarissa. She’s lost track of her sister.”

  “Oh, Lord, those two.” Tina, perched on a counter, hopped down, and reached for her handbag.

  “Leigh, all right if I use the john?” Tank asked, with a measure of anxiety.

  “As opposed to taking a whiz off the deck? Just be sure and leave a tip for the bathroom attendant.”

  He gave me the finger and Tina a pat on the fanny as he left the kitchen.

  I closed the door again and returned to the railing. From here the length of Ritch Road was a fairyland, the Christmas lights a-twinkle. Due to the way my grandparents’ house was sited at the end of the street, I could see it clearly. A new element had been added since we’d left, a five-pointed star on the roof so brightly lit that I wondered if Elizabeth was expecting a visit from the Magi. Evidently whatever covenants might exist did not pertain to the royal family. Or if they did, Elizabeth Ritch ignored them.

  I gave myself a mental slap on the wrist. My grandmother was so unlike my foster mother that on occasion she could make my teeth itch. If Nunna was salt of the earth, Elizabeth was more like owner of the salt company and the sod on which it sat, at least in attitude. I was certain I’d come to love her eventually, if I lived long enough.

  An engine growled, disrupting my train of thought. A tow truck crept along—W. Two, mindful of the ten-mile-an-hour speed limit. He slowed, rolled down his window, and waved.

  “Hey, Leigh. This shouldn’t take long. I’ll stop on my way back.”

  I returned his wave, and he inched on toward my grandparents’.

  I spent a few minutes listening to the sibilant whisper of the water, and was making an about-face to go back in when something out of place caught my attention: blinking yellow lights from a car on the shoulder just outside the gates of the compound. Less than two months ago that gate would have been closed and locked, affording entry only to those who lived on this side of it. The first time I’d come to Ourland, I’d climbed the fence to get in and had found myself at the business end of a shotgun wielded by my great-aunt Ruth, Elizabeth’s sister. Those days were gone and everyone had access now. Perhaps someone had had car trouble, and the gate was as far as they’d made it. At least they were in walking distance of home.

  A second vehicle turned onto Ritch from North Star Road and approached the gate, its headlights throwing the car on the shoulder in stark relief. I stiffened, my nape a-prickle. It was beige or tan, I couldn’t tell which, an older model Honda. The odds that it might be the vehicle Tank thought had been tailing us could not be ignored.

  I opened the sliding door. Tina was still on the phone. “Where’s Tank?” I mouthed.

  “Just a minute. Aunt Clar.” She pressed the tiny phone against her breast. “He’s still on the john. All that sausage on the second pizza. Better than Ex-Lax. I warned him,” she added self-righteously, then returned to the phone. “Now calm down, Auntie Clar.”

  Opting not to wait for Tank or for Tina to finish giving aid and comfort to Clarissa, I closed the door and sprinted around to the steps. There were perhaps eight houses between here and the gate. If someone was in the car, there was no way I could approach it without being seen once I’d passed next door with no lights. So be it. If the driver was just another cousin who’d run out of gas, I’d feel foolish but at least I’d know for certain. Deep down inside, however, I doubted this was one of my relatives. Family might get on my nerves now and then, but none had made the nape of my neck itch.

  Once on the street, I crossed to walk facing oncoming traffic, should there be any. The crunch of my shoes on the film of sand dusting the tarmac seemed as if it could be heard a mile away. The next good rain would wash it off but by the following day it would be back, blown onto land by the faintest breeze. Whether anyone could hear me or not, I had to stay on the pavement. The Honda was parked on the right shoulder, and if I could keep the fat brick pillar housing the gate between me and whoever was in the driver’s seat, I might be able to avoid being visible until the last minute. Besides, considering the temperature, the car windows were probably up, muting exterior noises. The hazard lights flared rhythmically, painting the area around it in intermittent flashes of old gold.

  Treading as lightly as I could, I neared the gate, surprised to detect the sound of the engine. At the entry to the compound, I hesitated, my back against the brick pillar. Directly across from me, the Dutch doors of the small gatehouse were closed and shuttered. I could still remember Aunt Ruth, an elderly Kewpie doll, waiting to confront the intruder—me—the remnants of a peanut butter sandwich between her teeth, the shotgun in her hands. I wished for her now. I’d have felt a lot more confident with her as backup.

  Taking a deep breath, I darted around the open gate. Almost immediately the hazard lights went off, leaving the surroundings pitch-black. The sound of the engine changed as the driver shifted gears. Ever so slowly, the Honda inched toward me. I gaped at it, my back against the brick pillar. Did she—in my mind the driver was definitely a female, even though I couldn’t see her—did she really intend to hit me? And are you, I asked myself, going to be dumb enough to stand here
and let her do it?

  Before I’d had a chance to make a decision, the gears changed again and she began backing up, first along the shoulder, the rear end angling onto the softer ground beyond it. I felt my muscles go slack with relief. With any luck, her back tires would become mired, at least temporarily. Energized by a sudden injection of pure, senseless rage, I ran toward the Honda. It didn’t occur to me to wonder what the hell I’d do once I’d caught up with it.

  I never found out. She shifted, gunned the engine, and pulled forward, the sound of debris under the wheels spraying the undergrowth as it lurched onto the tarmac. She executed a wide U-turn and sped away toward North Star Road. At the intersection, she turned left without pausing, earning a blast from the horn of someone who had the right of way.

  “Damn!” The oath seemed swallowed up by the darkness. I turned back, walking in the middle of the road this time, drained of adrenaline, which seemed to be leaking out through my shoes. I was certain that I’d almost confronted my nemesis.

  I stopped and looked back, a memory sneaking up on me. Was the car that had almost hit me on Monday a Honda? I wasn’t sure. A compact, yes. Old, yes. Coincidence? Yeah, right.

  Tank and Tina stood on the deck, watching my approach.

  “Where’d you go?” Tank called down.

  I waited until I’d climbed the steps to the second level before responding.

  “You were right, Tank. The Honda was parked outside the gate with the flashers on. I tried to sneak up on it. Yeah, I know, stupid, especially since it looked for a second like she intended to hit me. Or maybe she just wanted to scare me, I’m not sure. Anyway, she finally made a U-turn and burned rubber hightailing it away from there without headlights. Almost creamed a car out on North Star.”

  “So you didn’t get a look at her?” Tina asked.

  “No. And it bugs me that she knows about this town.” An unwelcome thought slithered through my mind. I had just returned from Ourland when that compact had nearly run me down on Monday. Had she followed me here that day? The very idea made my blood boil. “I won’t have her causing havoc out here. I won’t.”

  Tank slipped an arm around my shoulder and walked me inside. “I understand how you feel, Leigh, but how do you plan to stop her?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I will. I’ve got to.”

  9

  “I HAVE A THEORY ABOUT WHO SHE MIGHT BE,” I said later as we waited for Duck in the first-floor unit. I wanted him to see it first.

  Tank had spent the last half hour reading me the riot act for not having waited for him. That was followed by a minor spat, Tina taking umbrage at the implication that she couldn’t have offered as much support as he could have. I sat it out, accustomed to their short-lived squabbles. It was simply the way they related to each other.

  I decided to end it. For all I knew, they’d forgotten I was there.

  “Look, y’all, we don’t have much time. I’d like to run my theory by you before Duck gets here.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Bet I know what you’re thinking.” Tina eyed me with speculation. “It’s probably the same idea I’ve been tossing around.”

  “What?” Tank took our coats and draped them over the divan. We settled around the old dining room table. “Spill it.”

  “One of the Duck’s old girlfriends,” Tina said, elbow on the table, chin cupped in her hand. “Am I right?”

  I nodded. “I suggested that to Duck and he didn’t like it at all. But it’s a definite possibility.”

  Tank scrubbed one side of his nose and slouched in his chair. “I’m not sure about that. I’ve known the man a long time and he was never a player like a lot of guys. Popular with the ladies, sure, and never at a loss for a date. But I don’t remember him getting serious about any of them, and the kind of dude he is, he’d have been right up front with them from the git-go.”

  “Well, hell, Tankie,” Tina said, with a scowl, “that doesn’t mean they didn’t fall for him anyway. I know for a fact that Jennifer Cowley’s nose was wide open for the Duck, right up to the time she married Ike. She wasn’t the only one. This may be someone who went ass over teakettle over the Duck and wants to get back at the one he’s ass over teakettle about.”

  “‘Hell hath no fury’ and all that,” Tank offered. “I guess it’s possible. Wonder if there’s anything to eat in those cabinets.” He got up and began to investigate.

  Tina looked exasperated, then focused on me again. “So we’re on the same page?”

  “Evidently. Except wouldn’t it make more sense for her to take out her revenge on Duck?”

  “She did,” Tina said. “She messed up his honeymoon plans.”

  “They were my honeymoon plans too,” I reminded her. “And it’s me she’s been stalking, so to speak. Well, one thing at a time. I’ll let him concentrate on the house tonight and hit him with my theory about the old girlfriend again tomorrow.”

  Tank found a box of Cheez-Its so old that Tina maintained she could have hatched and given birth to a couple of babies since its sell-by date. He nibbled on them, pronounced them edible, and began dispatching them one by one while we tried to list all the women Duck had dated over the years. By the time we heard his car turn into the driveway, we had dredged up sixteen names, some of whom I knew personally, but only one Tina thought resembled me. Her name rang no bells with me.

  “Similar coloring and build,” she said. “You wouldn’t pass for sisters but she does make me think of you. Wonder if that might have been the reason the Duck dated them in the first place. Stand-ins for you, know what I mean?”

  I thought it was pretty farfetched, but face it, when it comes to men and how they think, anything’s possible.

  “Gimme that,” I whispered to Tina when I heard Duck pull under the house. She’d been doing the writing. She tore the sheet from her notepad and I stuffed it in a pocket, then ran out to the deck to wait for him.

  “Duck? Up here,” I called, hearing his door slam. “The first floor, stairs on the right.”

  He appeared and stood looking up at me. “What’s with the labels on the parking spaces?”

  “Come on up. You’ll see.”

  He climbed the steps, gaze riveted on my face, an amused smile on his. When he reached the landing, he wrapped his arms around me, and the next thing I knew I was being well and thoroughly smooched. I even forgot about the house, the list, and everything else for the moment. Man, that man can kiss!

  He released me. “That’s just to show you how much I miss you during the day.”

  I went into complete meltdown inside. Why had it taken me so long to realize how much I loved Dillon Kennedy? Not that I regretted the days we’d spent as very close friends, but the nights could have been a hell of a lot more interesting.

  “All right, babe, time for the tour. By the way, where’s the Explorer?”

  “In front of my grandparents’,” I said, deciding not to ruin the mood by telling him about the tires. I’d also exacted a promise from Tank and Tina not to mention my encounter with the Honda, knowing Duck would blow his lid. Looping an arm through his, I led him toward the front. “Let’s go in this way.”

  There was a method to my madness. The moon had made an appearance, its beams gilding the tips of the whitecaps of the bay; otherwise it would have been invisible. Duck stopped at the railing overlooking the yard, gazed out across the water, then up and down the street. Between the Christmas candles, the glistening Chesapeake, and the incredible night sky, he had to be impressed.

  “Quite a view,” he said, nodding approval. “Inside, babe. You’re shivering.”

  I slid open the center pane and separated the vertical blinds for him.

  Neither Tank nor Tina had moved. “Hey, Duck,” they said in chorus, an idiotic grin lighting Tank’s Mr. Clean visage. Talk about open hero worship.

  “Hey, yourselves.” Duck strode to the table, leaned over, and pecked Tina on the cheek. “How are you feeling, little T.?”

 
“Middlin’. Isn’t this the neatest place?”

  “Don’t know yet. Let’s see.” Sliding his coat off, he turned in a circle, his eyes taking in everything as he pivoted.

  I removed the coat from his hand and folded it over my arm, needing something to hold on to. “Look around. I’m thirsty.”

  I finally draped his coat across a chair, found a tumbler, and drank two glasses of water while he circumnavigated the main room. He stopped to peer at all the antique reproductions and wall decorations, closely examined the kitchen, opening each and every cabinet, upper and lower, never saying a word. Tank and Tina remained at the table, displaying crossed fingers whenever Duck wasn’t looking. As for me, my stomach had turned into a butterfly farm, and the poor things were drowning in all that water I’d had.

  He peeked into the guest room, laughed uproariously after pulling the chain of the water closet, and spent an inordinate amount of time in the back hall before reappearing. “Nice,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Whoever built this meant it to last.”

  “My great-uncle Roosevelt,” I said. “A half-great, actually. Turns out Great-granddad’s eye wandered, at least once.”

  “Happens in the best of families. Only thing is, why hide the staircase?”

  “Huh?” Tank, Tina, and I in unison, of course.

  “You didn’t see it? Come back here.”

  We followed him to the rear of the hall and into the utility room. Adjacent to the washer/dryer combination were ceiling-to-knee-high shelves. Tucked under one of the shelves in the adjoining wall was a semicircular metal plate with a hole. Duck stuck a finger in it and pulled. A pocket door slid onto darkness.

  “This locks,” Duck said, “but you’ve got to know how. Hold on.” He groped the wall until he’d found a light switch. A narrow staircase, just as he’d indicated.

  Flabbergasted, we followed him up. At the top was the door into the utility room of the upper unit.

  “How’d you know about this?” I asked.