Rose Quartz

by Sandra Cox

  It worked like a charm. The girls were all sympathy, their eyes alight with adventure. The blonde nodded her head vigorously, her thin hair falling in her face. “Been there. Done that. They just can’t take no for an answer.” She slipped the long-sleeved, tie-dyed tee over her head.

  “Men,” the brunette added.

  The women swapped outfits. Bella stuffed herself into jeans she couldn’t quite zip up and a tie-dyed tee that fit her like a second skin. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get picked up for hooking.

  Handing the girls each fifty dollars, she made a point to hold the young blonde’s hand for a moment as she placed the money in it and thanked her. Energy sizzled down her arm and out her fingertips. The transformation was instantaneous. The young blonde’s thin lank hair became full and shiny, her skin luminescent and her lips moist and ripe.

  Her friend stared. “Wow. I’m going to have to start going for the middle-aged look. You look fabulous.”

  Bella’s lips twitched.

  The young woman glanced in the mirror. Her lovely eyes widened. “I do, don’t I?”

  “You look like a million bucks, honey. Now here’s what we’re going to do. You step outside and hail a cab.” Bella dug in her bag. “Here’s another twenty for the taxi. Have him drive around for about fifteen minutes then come back to the diner and pick up your friend. By then I should be long gone.” She dug in her bag and pulled out her card. “Call me if you have any problems.”

  Nodding, the girls hurried out. The brunette paused in the doorway and handed Bella her cap and walked out. Bella stood staring at the cap. For a moment doubts assailed her. Had she just put these young women in jeopardy?

  She straightened and lifted her chin. No. Whoever was out there was after her. And these young women were savvy. They could take care of themselves. Plus the blonde would have the edge of creativity, for a while at least.

  Five minutes passed. She glanced at her watch. Showtime. Stuffing her hair in the cap, she sauntered out. The brunette gave her a discreet nod from her stool at the counter where she sat sipping a dark carbonated beverage.

  Bella walked to the door and glanced around, her expression bored. The dark sedan was gone. Stepping out into the street, she hailed a cab.

  * * * * *

  Victor paced his cell, grinning and muttering to himself. Did they really think that incarcerating him could protect them or keep him from getting the amulets? He had the only person who mattered in his life on the outside to track their whereabouts. And inside he had made two powerful allies, allies with connections. Anything was possible in here, even getting a job done on the outside…for a price. For Victor Price. He threw back his head and laughed at his wit, a deranged sound that stilled the noises coming from the other cells.

  Chapter Two

  The taxi slid into an opening in front of an imposing five-story brownstone. Bella looked around. There was no prickling on the back of her neck, no feelings of dread. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on her quiet street. Her plan had worked.

  She stepped out of the car and tipped the driver. Straightening, she adjusted her shoulder bag, rearranging the awkward weight.

  An older gentleman dressed in tan livery stood outside the building.

  “Hello, George.”

  The doorman squinted from behind thick glasses. “Is that you, Ms. Bella?”

  She laughed. “Didn’t recognize me in my new ensemble, huh? So what do you think of my threads?”

  He grinned, showing perfect white teeth that Bella suspected were dentures. “I think you’d look good in a flour sack, Ms. Bella.”

  “You charmer, you.” She touched him lightly on the shoulder, giving him a tiny infusion of beauty and creativity from her amulet.

  His bowed shoulders straightened and the wrinkles scouring his forehead and layering his neck receded.

  “Were you waiting out here for me, George?”

  “I got your message and wanted to make sure you got in safely. I took the luggage that the taxidriver dropped off earlier to your apartment.”

  She smiled warmly. “I appreciate that.” And she did. George wasn’t all that young anymore.

  He opened the door for her and they walked through the pristine white foyer to the elevator. With each step, Bella’s elegant black pumps sank into the lush silver-gray carpet.

  George pushed the lighted button. The doors slid open and they stepped into the elevator.

  Looking at her reflection in the spotless shiny cage, Bella automatically patted her hair. “Has Puss–Puss been behaving himself?” The twenty-pound white tomcat was the love of her life and everyone who knew Bella was aware of it much to their chagrin. Puss–Puss’ name hardly reflected his personality.

  As the elevator slid smoothly to the second floor George cleared his throat. He pursed his lips and wrinkled his forehead as if trying to formulate a polite lie.

  Bella grimaced. “Oh dear, did he bite you again?”

  He smiled. “I needed a new pair of pants anyway. Trying to keep two steps ahead of that cat keeps me spry.”

  She sighed. “I’ll tack on the cost of a new pair of pants to your cat-sitting fee. How’s Martha?” she asked, referring to his wife of forty years.

  “Spunky as ever.”

  The elevator skimmed to a halt across from her apartment.

  “Thanks, George.”

  “I’ll see you in, Ms. Bella.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Pulling out the key, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, George at her heels. “Puss–Puss, I’m home,” she called out.

  George blanched. He took a hasty look around and stepped nimbly through the door. “Everything looks right and tight. Goodnight, Ms. Bella.” The door shut just as Puss–Puss came cannonballing into the foyer. With one powerful leap he was in her arms.

  She rubbed noses with the sleek white cat. “Ooh, I’ve missed you.”

  “Mrrow.”

  Bella sat him down and headed for the kitchen, the big cat at her heels. “How about a glass of white wine for me and a can of tuna for you?”

  “Mrrow.”

  “I thought you’d go for it.”

  As she walked into the kitchen, Bella kicked off her pumps. The cool marble felt wonderful against the soles of her tired feet.

  Bella poured herself a glass of wine, forked tuna into a crystal bowl and carried them into the living room. She set them on the coffee table then picked up the remote off the latte-colored tweed couch and clicked it. The haunting sounds of a wood flute filled the spacious room.

  Purring, Puss–Puss jumped up and began to eat his pungent meal.

  Bella sank into the overstuffed couch and sighed with pleasure. Home, there was no place like it. A tiny voice she really didn’t want to hear added a caveat, Except perhaps a small horse ranch in Wisconsin. She shook her head. Don’t go there.

  She took a sip of wine and closed her eyes as the cool effervescent liquid ran down the back of her throat. “Um, this is more like it.”

  She leaned her head back on the couch. “So what did you do while I was away, beside harass George? You really need to stop that, Puss–Puss. George is our friend.”

  The big cat swished his tail from side to side. A sign that he was not pleased with the comment, but he kept eating.

  “Truth’s truth. Let me tell you about my trip, at least the most intriguing part of it.” She leaned forward. Adrenaline pumped through her, overriding the tiredness caused by a transatlantic flight and the tension of a stalker. “I found the power amulet and met the woman who wears it, forging another link in the sisterhood. Her name is Sabina. She’s probably a year or two younger than Maureen and looks straight out of a Shakespearean play. Long, thick brunette hair, dark, limpid eyes, slender but voluptuous and carries herself like a queen.”

  As fast as the adrenaline rush came, it disappeared. She yawned so wide her jaws nearly split then pushed herself off the couch. “Gods, I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.” Carrying her wineglass, she start
ed toward the stairs.

  Puss–Puss went trotting by her, his tail straight in the air. He plopped down at the top of the stairs, wrapped his tail around his body and sat sphinxlike, looking down at her.

  With one hose-encased foot on the step, she stopped and snapped her fingers. “I forgot to let George know about the man following me. I don’t want to be responsible for him getting his head bashed in.”

  She walked to the foyer and pushed the intercom button mounted on the wall.

  “Yes, Ms. Bella?” George’s voice echoed hollowly through the speaker.

  She leaned forward and spoke into the intercom, “It’s probably nothing to worry about but I think I was being followed tonight. Just be on the alert for strangers, okay?”

  “Of course, Ms. Bella. I’ll keep a sharp eye out and I’ll let Bobby know as well. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  Bella’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Bobby was even older than George. “Thanks, George, I appreciate it. I’ll rest better knowing you’re on duty.” She could picture his chest swelling like a bantam rooster. Bless his heart.

  “No problem, Ms. Bella. You get a good night’s sleep, you hear?”

  “Thanks, George.” She clicked off the intercom and headed up the stairs to her bedroom.

  She sat the wine on the bedside table, stripped and pulled an oversized tee shirt over her head then plopped down on the bed. Snuggling under the sheet and fluffy coverlet, she sighed with pleasure, happy to be in her own bed after a month out of the country.

  The sweet scent of lavender from her silk sheets teased and relaxed her as she reached up and switched off the light. Puss–Puss hopped on the bed and curled up beside her.

  Just as she closed her eyes the phone rang. Sticking her hand out from the cover, she groped for it. “Hello.”

  “Ms. Tremaine?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Judy. You exchanged clothes with me in the diner.”

  Bella jerked upright, tumbling the coverlet and sheet around her waist. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Just wanted to let you know Rhonda and I are both fine. Your plan worked like a charm. A sedan followed my taxi. When I got back to the diner, I got out and let him get a good look at me under the street lamp. Rhonda joined me. The sedan crawled by with the driver staring holes in me. Gave me the creeps. Then he took off and we came home. You be careful. Your ex doesn’t look like a nice person.”

  “My what? Oh my ex.” For a moment there she’d forgotten her story. “You’re sure he didn’t follow you home?”

  “Positive. We had the taxidriver make a few unscheduled stops. No one was behind us. Just wanted to let you know.”

  “Thanks again, Judy.”

  “You’re welcome.” The phone clicked.

  She lay back down but sleep was a long time coming. When she finally succumbed, she slept hard.

  A feeling of unease slipped through the deep layers of oblivion to wake her.

  She sat up and looked around. The room was dark except for the red glow of the digital clock. Four a.m. She reached over to pet Puss–Puss but he wasn’t in his usual spot. Looking around, she spotted him at the window staring down at the street, his fur on end.

  “Puss–Puss?” she called softly.

  The cat ignored her and continued his vigil.

  She crept out of bed and stood behind the curtains. Lifting a frothy white edge, she peered out. The street appeared deserted. Pockets of black shadows, from the dark brick buildings, lined the boulevard.

  Her breath caught as the tiny orange glow of a cigarette cut through the darkness. “Shit.”

  What to do? Call 9-1-1 and tell them someone was smoking across the street? Not hardly. And she didn’t dare mention it to George. She had no doubt the old dear would head outside to investigate and the gods only knew what would happen then. Nope, she would just sit tight until morning. The building had a good security system. And she had Puss–Puss. She’d match him against an intruder any day. Though, even her ferociously loyal feline was no match for a bullet. Well, there was one thing she could do.

  Bella walked back to the bed and sat on the edge. She started to flip on the lamp then thought better of it. Picking up the phone, she hit speed dial and waited. After several rings a cranky female voice answered on the other end of the phone.

  “Did I wake you, sugar?”

  “What do you think?” Maureen snarled.

  “I thought you farm types got up with the chickens.”

  “We don’t have any chickens and if we did they’d still be asleep. What do you want, blondie?”

  Bella grinned as she heard a sleepy male voice murmuring in the background. “How’s my favorite author?”

  Maureen gave an exaggerated sigh. Bella could almost picture her blowing hair out of her face. “Why are calling me in the middle of the night, Bella?”

  Bella started to say it was almost morning then thought better of it. Miss Cranky Pants was in a different time zone and obviously not one of those people who woke up alert. “Shug, do you know if Victor’s still in jail?”

  Tension crawled through the phone lines from eight hundred miles away. “He was in jail last week when Jack went to visit him. What’s up, Bella?”

  Bella shook her head admiringly. “Jack does like to rub Victor’s nose in the fact that he’s behind bars, doesn’t he? But then considering Victor nearly killed him in a most unpleasant manner you can’t blame him.”

  “Bella, why are you calling me at three a.m. to ask if Victor is still in jail? What’s happened?”

  Bella took a breath from deep in her belly and said quietly, “Someone is following me.”

  “What do you mean, following you?”

  “Just that. I sensed more than saw someone on the plane coming back home.”

  “You’re back in Atlanta then?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he or she was on the plane?”

  “Someone was. I thought I lost them at an all-night diner. But someone is standing outside the apartment in the shadows.”

  “Call the police,” Maureen said sharply.

  “I can’t do that. They’ll just think I’m another hysterical female.” She made her voice unnaturally high, adding a touch of panic to it. Unfortunately it wasn’t all that hard to do. “Officer, someone is following me. Officer, I can see the tip of a lit cigarette across the street. No, I can’t describe him because I can’t see him. But I know whoever’s out there having a smoke is after me.” She dropped her voice to a melodramatic whisper. “I sense it.” Then said in her normal tones, “Get serious, sugar.”

  “You get serious. Who’s going to protect you? That damn cat?”

  “Well, yes actually,” Bella said in a mild voice. “That and my trusty derringer. Shug, may I suggest you take a deep breath and touch your amulet?” The healing amulet had a calming stone at its center.

  Muttering came from the other end of the phone followed by a deep breath. A moment later Maureen asked in reasonable tones, “What are you going to do, Bella? We both know how devious Victor is. I’m afraid he’s pulling strings from prison.”

  “I’m going to stick my derringer under my pillow. My phone is on the bedside table. If I so much as hear a scratch at the door I’ll call 9-1-1. Plus, I’ve alerted my doorman.”

  A sigh came over the phone. “I guess it will have to do.” And then as if diverted, “You have a doorman?”

  Bella grinned. She could picture Ms. No-nonsense, Down-to-earth Sinclair pulling the phone away from her ear and looking at it. God, that woman did her heart good. “I moved to a more secure location right after Victor helped himself to my amulet.” No need to tell her the doorman would never see sixty again or sixty-five for that matter. And the building did have an excellent alarm system.

  “What about your neighbors? Can you rely on them?”

  “They’re good folk.” Bella grimaced. Good folk, all right, but octogenarians. She had
chosen a building made up mainly of seniors so she wouldn’t be spending all her free moments warding off unwanted advances. She grinned. Though some of those old guys were pretty spry. She had the pinch marks to prove it.

  “Sorry I woke you up. I’ll chat with you tomorrow.”

  “Bella…”

  “Night, night, sugar.” She clicked off.

  Puss–Puss still stood at the window, silent as a statue, staring with unblinking intensity across the street.

  Bella joined the cat. The only illumination in the gray-black night came from dimly lit streetlights that threw an eerie yellow glow on the cars parked beneath them.

  She shrugged. She’d done all she could do. Glancing down at the cat, she asked, “Are you coming to bed?”

  Puss–Puss ignored her.

  “Suit yourself.”

  She pulled out her pearl-handled lady’s derringer from the bedside table and started to stick it under her pillow then thought better of it and put it back in the drawer. Even though they did such things in the movies, she had no desire to blow her ear off. She admired Van Gogh’s style but had no wish to emulate his physical deformities. Making sure it was within easy reach, she shut the drawer.

  She gave one long lazy stretch, burrowed under the coverlet and to her amazement fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  She woke to pounding terror, her body slick with the cold sweat of fear. Oh gods, somehow the intruder had broken in. He was choking her with a velvet rope. She couldn’t breathe. No, dammit, she refused to become a victim and die in her bed without a fight. She threw out her hands, twisted away and sat up.

  Puss–Puss went tumbling sideways. “Mrrow.” He hissed and stalked to the foot of the bed.

  “Why do you do that? Why don’t you sleep on my head like a normal cat instead of stretching out across my neck?” She clutched her chest. “Lord, you just took ten years off my life. And I can’t afford them.”

  His ears back, his tail twitching, he hopped off the bed and stalked away. He got as far as the doorway, stopped, plopped his white bottom down on the silver-gray carpet and began to yowl.