Adieu to Destiny (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod Book 4)

by Tracy Ellen

  Pam nodded eagerly and said to the blonde from Texas, “Oh, Bel wrote the book on being a naughty badgirl, so she’d be the last to hold any of your shit-faced horseplay against you.”

  “Horseplay?” Bucky wrinkled her nose at the unflattering term while she smoothed her long, blonde hair in the mirror. She watched her image as she chuckled brightly and replied playfully, “It must be a Minnesota only edition because if you ever visited the huge state of Texas, you’d see my badgirl face on that original naughty book.”

  If Prissy wasn’t serious, I’d probably love the little narcissist for her sense of humor, despite bouncing on Luke’s lap, but it wasn’t to be.

  Pam giggled and her pugnacious chin lifted in challenge. “What population does Texas have, anyway? Like a million head of cattle and a few hundred lonely cowboys farting baked beans on some dude ranch?”

  Bucky was visibly taken aback at Pam’s crudely inaccurate description of her lovely state. I made a mental note to suggest to John Smith that he take Pam to the man cave barn for some serious exercise in the boxing ring, even if they had to tie ropes around their waists to not get lost in the blizzard from here to there. Pammie was a powder keg.

  Before Bucky could utter whatever offended comeback was poised on her shiny lips and get jabbed for her efforts by the little butterfly that stung like a bee, I smiled my alligator smile at the woman.

  “Oh heck, Pammie’s playing with you. Everyone knows Texas has five times more people than Minnesota. I bow to your enormous experience derived from the vast quantities of men you’ve been bad with compared to me,” I pointed a wagging, warning finger at Pam and shook my head before turning to Bucky, “and I’m sure not half that many have been farters, right Prissy?”

  “Right!” She spit out, tossing her hair with a broad smile at my cheerful support. I was sure Prissy wasn’t used to women being too friendly.

  Pam applied mascara between giggles.

  Bucky gnawed her lip uncertainly at me. “I was wondering if I could ask what else that Chief of Police friend of Luke’s may have told you about Svetlana? Did he say anything about me?”

  “Since I didn’t hear what Luke Drake told you all, I can’t answer that, now can I?” I sneered when I said Luke’s name. “But why would the police chief mention you?”

  Pam put down the mascara and said under her breath, “Maybe he’s from Texas.”

  “No reason, I’m upset is all,” Bucky quickly replied, casting Pam a reproachful glance.

  I didn’t want to try to rattle cages alone with Bucky and Pam, so I said, “Let’s go out in the living room. I’m thirsty, too.” I opened the bathroom door, waving the two women out while I said bitterly, “All I know is that Luke Drake is an asshole to get me involved with Svettie’s shit.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry to have brought it up,” Bucky said politely contrite, her hips swaying exaggeratedly side to side and walking fast towards the living room to rejoin the others.

  After a beat of silence, Pam asked, “Bottled water okay?”

  “Please.”

  Bottled water was the only thing I would have accepted because the kitchen was trashed. Dishes left encrusted with food were everywhere on the counters and table. Pots and pans littered the stove. Even the floor was thick with crumbs. Poor Great Uncle Benny was rolling in his grave.

  It was unreal having Pam at home in Luke’s fifties-style kitchen, playing hostess while I stood there as the interloper, but there wasn’t much that wasn’t weird about the last few days in my life.

  I indicated the mess and asked, “Didn’t they get here only yesterday?”

  Pam grunted and handed me a cold bottle. “Not one of them picks up after themselves. Not one thing.”

  “Unbelievable,” I said, since Luke was neat and clean. I had associated that trait with having been in the service for years, but so had Dan and Daniel.

  “They’re pigs,” Pam stated bluntly, and mumbled rebelliously, “I don’t care if they’re Joe’s bosses and every dish in the house is dirty, I am not cleaning up after them.”

  “Rock on, girl,” I agreed. “If John’s worried about his performance reviews, let him get dishpan hands.”

  We touched our water bottles and drank to that.

  Casually glancing in the direction of the dining room, I saw that room was dark, too, but several people were seated in the open living room beyond.

  I looked back one last time at the trashed kitchen and then at Pam. “Follow my lead when we go in there, regardless of how strange or mean I act, okay?”

  Pam’s immediate grin lit up the room. She did a little gyrating victory dance while she whispered, “I knew you’d figure this out and not let them get away with all their shit! I knew it!”

  I smiled back, not sure who the “them” were Pam was talking about, or if by their “shit” she meant everything that had happened over the last few days or this mess in the kitchen and bathroom. Following her strutting size two-and-a-half hips into the living room, I figured whoever and whatever didn’t matter because a load had instantly lifted from Pam’s shoulders and she was noticeably happier.

  As we approached the six people in the living room, my heart rate sped up. My eyes rested briefly on each person. It was surreal to be certain one of those faces staring back had paid to have me fixed ten days ago.

  That stiffened my backbone for what I was about to do.

  Let the freak show begin.

  Chapter XXI

  “Isn’t It Ironic?” by Alanis Morissette

  Sunday, 12/16

  11:07 PM

  Dan and Daniel said subdued hellos to Pam and me when we walked into the seating area. Luke’s partners were nursing beers but appeared sober, if a little strung out. They relaxed in winged back chairs. The chairs were positioned side by side at one end of the two long sofas that faced each other across a large coffee table in the shape of a kidney.

  Emma didn’t look up at our entrance. She was seated between Luke and John Smith on one of the long sofas, but poised forward on the edge of the cushion. Her head was bent as if to study the floor, her forehead rested against her cupped hand. She sniffed every few seconds, but I didn’t think she was actually crying over her fear of Svettie and the S.W.A.T. team any longer.

  Prissy smiled brightly at me and patted the empty spot beside her on the matching sofa where she lounged alone. Apparently, we were besties now. I did not respond to any greetings, but plopped heavily on the designated cushion.

  I was not happy to be there and wanted everybody aware of that fact from the start.

  Luke was offering comfort to Emma with soft words and rubbing pats on the back.

  Our eyes met over her bent head, but neither of us greeted the other.

  “I see you still love playing the hero to helpless women,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes in disgust at Emma. “Jesus Christ, does she ever do anything else but whine and cry? Is she drunk again or what? I am the one Svettie is trying to kill, for fuck’s sake, so what does she have to cry about?” My eyes cut to Dan and I sniffed. “So where’s that apology you promised me last night for your wife’s rude behavior, huh?”

  “Anabel,” Prissy interjected hastily before Dan could answer, glancing warily at Emma who had slowly raised her head at my words, “I was shocked to hear of your kidnapping.” She breathed out, “I had no idea. You must have been so frightened.”

  “Shocked to hear? Try living it.” I glared belligerently around the room, not pausing to acknowledge John Smith’s small smile or Dan White’s tight glare. “That Russian bitch tried to kill me. What a fucking loser. I hope she gets a life sentence with no parole for killing the man that abducted me. That’s the worst punishment you can get in Wisconsin for murder.” I laughed and focused my glare on Luke and Emma. “She deserves the death penalty, an eye for an eye. When they add on the life sentence for first degree attempted murder of me in Minnesota, there’s no way Svetlana will ever be released. She will rot in prison.” I smiled with ven
geful relish. I turned slightly to face Prissy and demanded suspiciously, “What did you mean by saying that, anyway? Why should you have had an idea I was kidnapped?”

  Surprised at my sudden attack, Priscilla pushed back her golden waves and sputtered, “I shouldn’t, I only meant…” She frowned at everyone. “It was a figure of speech.”

  “Oh. I was hoping maybe you knew why a woman that worked at DDL would pay so much money to have me abducted and left in an abandoned house to die? The police said it was jealousy over Svettie’s feelings for Luke,” I put that sneer in my tone at his name again, “but I’ve hardly spoken to Svetlana more than once or twice. Weren’t you two friends of hers?” I looked over at Emma to include her in my questions and gave special emphasis to the word friends, as if it meant co-killers. “Didn’t you lunch together? Did the police question you?”

  Pam had squeezed in next to John-Joe and was watching me intently while I asked questions of the other women.

  Dan’s gaze rested fixedly on Luke and Emma, but I got the impression his thoughts were far away.

  Daniel’s eyes darted around nervously, but kept dropping to get reacquainted with my breasts. My black sweater was not super-tight or low-necked and I wore comfortable leggings. The way Daniel stared repeatedly at my chest; you’d think I had no shirt on. I didn’t think the man was conscious of what he was doing. Talk about needing training.

  The mousy Emma had sat up to stare at me blankly through reddened eyelids that looked dry and sore. Exhaustion had aged her five years overnight. The fight Pam mentioned they’d overheard must have been a wing dinger and kept Dan and Emma up late.

  I’d observed last night that Emma was thin, but it was not in a toned, healthy way. Her frame looked undernourished and her skin was dull. Red blemishes dotted her chin and deep brackets lined either side of her mouth. Her lackluster eyes were smudged underneath with dark crescents that I was all too familiar with and attested to sleepless nights.

  Bucky was the talker, but Emma was decidedly the weakest link in the DDL group. She was where I needed to focus my cage rattling to see what leads shook out before Chief Jack called Luke with part two of our plan.

  “Oh no,” Bucky was saying in answer, “the police haven’t talked to me about Svetlana yet, but I don’t think I would have any information to add to their case.” She eyed the silent Emma quickly again and it reminded me that Svettie had said Emma was a strict boss about privacy issues. “Yes, we did go out to lunch a few times, but we weren’t good friends. She was a nice woman, if a little,” Priscilla hesitated and her smile was patronizing, “prone to drama. She did have a crush on Luke,” Bucky shot my boyfriend a flirtatious smile that he returned with a raised brow that made the woman giggle and amend her sentence to, “a mongo crush, but so do most of the women at DDL.” Prissy sat up straighter, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. She rearranged her long skirt, smoothing her hands down the tops of her slim thighs, “Now that I’m thinking on it, during lunch a month ago or so, Svetlana said she was worried. She actually believed Luke was going to leave DDL and move to Minnesota because of a woman.” Bucky’s mocking tone underscored the absurdity of Svettie’s concerns. “Emma, what else did she say that day--it was at Athena’s in Greektown. You were there, too.”

  Emma didn’t answer, only faintly shrugged. It was creepy because Emma’s red-rimmed eyes were focused on my face, but it looked like nobody was home inside. I wondered if she was on drugs.

  Prissy also shrugged. “Oh well, I told her it couldn’t be true.” She trilled a little laugh and spit prettily, “Luke would never up and leave the company that he’s worked hard to build for some random woman in Minnesota, but Svetlana would not believe me. Every time we talked, she brought it up.”

  Prissy spoke of the woman in Minnesota like she hadn’t connected the dots she was disparaging the woman sitting next to her. If Luke hadn’t informed me last night that he had known Prissy less than six months, I’d swear the woman was his best friend and closest confidant.

  ‘Was I destined to go through life dealing with insane, delusional women? Once a girl was pushing thirty, was it possible to meet a new female friend that had their head screwed on even halfway straight?’

  Pam spoke up and said, “Hey, he’s turned his Chicago condo over to me.”

  “Yes, Luke is very loyal to his friends,” Priss replied evasively with a small pout and then smiled archly at Luke again, “and yes, Luke is an extreme hottie, but personally, I was shocked to hear jealousy was Svetlana’s motive to have Anabel abducted.”

  Once again, Luke was right about my density. Every double meaning behind the words Bucky said and every action her body made towards my boyfriend shouted at a woman on the hunt, hot on the seductive trail of a buck she had yet to bring down, but was determined to mount as her trophy.

  Daniel Boynton may be a serial monogamist that could maintain a relationship for only short period of time, but Pussy Galore was a serial slut. She was a woman that couldn’t comprehend loyalty in love or friendship if her life depended on it.

  I kept my belligerent tone even. “Oh, yeah? Then what motive would the stupid bitch have to fuckin’ want me dead?”

  Prissy winced at my crassness and sent Luke a sympathetic glance, but replied, “I don’t know if it’s a motive, but she seemed more anxious at the thought of Luke leaving the company because she’d lose the use of the condo and maybe her job.” Prissy shrugged a shoulder. “We were surprised to hear of it, but Emma and I assured her it was simply an investment when Svetlana said Luke had purchased quite a bit of farm land near this place. Svetlana was also convinced Luke was planning to order an outside audit of DDL to determine the value of his third of the company in order to sell.” Priscilla met my eyes and I must have looked confused because she explained, “We tried to let her know it’s not an uncommon practice to hire a forensic financial investigation, especially for a security company.” She trilled her condescending laughter again. “I certainly never thought Svetlana was suddenly homicidal over the idea Luke was dating because the Rakester always has some woman on the side, doesn’t he?”

  When nobody rushed to agree, Bucky glanced around in confusion. She gasped and then made a little “Oops!” face.

  “Oh my, I put my foot in it there, didn’t I, Anabel? I am so sorry! I don’t associate you and Luke together in my mind and forgot you used to date.”

  I snorted. “I know he’s your good friend,” I shot Luke a dirty look and sneered, “but I wish I could fucking forget I ever met the prick, too.”

  I had been aware of Luke the entire time Prissy had been speaking. I felt his sudden stillness when Miss Priss revealed how much Svettie knew of his personal business that Luke considered private, if not even secret. Buying farm land was part of Luke’s revenge plan against the Ogelbachen’s and he had guarded those plans closely. Svettie must have spied on Luke big time to find that out.

  I had also been surprised at the revelation Luke had planned to order a financial investigation weeks before any of this started for his own reasons, and not only a few days ago like he’d told me last night.

  It was all starting to come together for me. The little pieces that made no sense alone were now fitting together to paint a big picture. It was time to press some buttons where they would get the most results.

  Pam nervously giggled at my comment about Luke the prick, but Prissy had glanced over at Daniel. The pained, beseeching look she threw him clearly stated Priss wanted Daniel’s help fending off my crude behavior towards their friend, but Daniel only took a quick drink from his bottle of beer and turned his head away.

  Before anybody else could speak, I cried out hotly, “Yeah, well, who cares about Svettie’s goddamned motivations, anyway! I was abducted at the orders of some lunatic, criminal bitch that will stop at nothing to get what she wants--murder an innocent woman, stab a friend in the back until dead--who knows what else she’s done?” I shook my head and snorted in disgust. “I guess we can on
ly be glad Svettie doesn’t have any family to take down with her.” I made a scoffing gesture that encompassed Emma and Prissy. “You two care about kids so much, thank the fucking Lord she has no children. Not only would she be a terrible mother, but can you believe how horrible it would be to have your mother sent to prison for life, and with no goddamn hope of parole? But you guys are such Christian women, so tell us.” I spread my hands wide. “Isn’t that what she deserves for killing? Isn’t there some kind of commandment not to be a fucking murdering bitch?”

  John Smith was sprawled at his leisure, completely relaxed with an arm around Pam’s shoulders and idly stroking her arm. His glance occasionally went from one person to another, but when John met my eyes briefly, I knew his laziness was a sham. He was on hyper-alert and prepared to spring into action. I was amazed nobody else noticed. It was like a live electric current was thrumming in the room.

  Dan didn’t look up from staring into the bottle of his beer, but Daniel reacted with the most agitation.

  He restlessly shifted his bulk in the chair and his friendly eyes were full of anxiety. Daniel’s glances darted between Dan’s unresponsive face and Luke’s steady, direct gaze while his own face flushed red.

  During this pause of a second or two, Pam had been looking between Emma and Priscilla, and then at me while tilting her head.

  “Well, isn’t there?” I demanded again.

  “Well…” Priscilla fluttered her hands helplessly, at a loss how to answer my question about God’s commandments.

  Emma emitted a strange, rattling noise from the back of her throat and her eyes had lost that unfocused stare.

  Pam said with an exaggerated shudder, “I can’t even imagine my mom being a murderer. I would die and wish I’d never born. I’d hate her.”

  “Jesus H. fucking Christ right you would!” I agreed with a disgusted laugh. “It’s more like who wouldn’t hate their mother for that, right? Do you want to know the goddamn, fucking ironic part of my kidnapping? If I hadn’t escaped, I would have died and it would have been for nothing--NOTHING. Less than a week later, Mr. Compassionate here dumps me for that slut downstairs!”