I'll Kill Her for You

by Steve Richer

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “What, me being the least decent person in my family? That’s harsh, lady.”

  She ignored his comment and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She tried to talk herself out of doing what she was about to do, but it didn’t work.

  “So you have nowhere to go tonight, Lawson?”

  “Very perceptive. You should be a detective.”

  “I’m gonna tell you something and I want no arguments, okay? It’s a one-time offer and don’t read anything into it.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser. What’s the offer?”

  Bailey exhaled, shaking his head, really not wanting to do this. “I have a turkey at home. Would you like to join me?”

  “Well what do you know?! I…”

  “Please spare me your snide remarks. A yes or no answer will do and I won’t repeat myself. So?”

  “Okay, yes.”

  Disappointed but knowing she was doing the right thing, Bailey told him she would pick him up at his hotel. On the one hand, she thought this was unprofessional. She was his employee and their relationship should be limited to the contractual nature of her work.

  But on the other hand, she saw that Lawson had been practically abandoned by everyone. She knew how hard that was, especially during the holidays. All because of that one mistake years ago in New Orleans.

  It was almost twenty minutes until she pulled to the curb in front of the Sherry-Netherland. She called him and it was another few minutes until he got down and made his way through the paparazzi, everyone’s attention focused on him, shouting questions, taking pictures. To his credit, he didn’t punch anyone.

  “Yo,” he said as he sat in the passenger seat after putting his suitcase in the back.

  Bailey nodded and they drove off.

  “So, turkey in New Jersey, uh?”

  “I said no snide remarks.”

  “It’s just an observation. Thanks for doing this. You sure I’m not cramping your style?”

  “I have no style.”

  “Well that I already knew,” Lawson said although he said it in a playful way so she would know he was kidding. “I mean, no jealous boyfriend or annoying mother you’re gonna have to deal with? Or are they used to you bringing in strays?”

  She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. “It’s just me.”

  For the next hour, they drove in silence, leaving the city and getting to her Newark apartment. Lawson had trouble keeping his mouth shut about what a dump this place was.

  He knew he shouldn’t pass judgment, that most people weren’t as rich as he was, that they couldn’t afford his typical level of luxury, but it was difficult nonetheless. He grabbed his things and followed her inside where it wasn’t much better.

  “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go check to see if the turkey is thawed.”

  He put his suitcase by the door and removed his coat. Then he followed her into the kitchen, observing as she placed the small bird in some sort of deep baking dish. She switched on the oven.

  “I haven’t had turkey in a long time,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “For Thanksgiving I was in Macau, playing blackjack with some friends. I got so shitfaced I don’t think I ate that day. And last year for Christmas, in Maui, I had some sort of roast. I don’t quite remember but it wasn’t turkey.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Bailey said. “I don’t have all the trimmings and I make gravy from a jar.”

  “Family tradition? Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound snippy. It’s a genuine question.”

  She stared at him for a long second and then decided to reply. “I haven’t talked to my family in a few years. That’s why I invited you.”

  “Were you accused of killing a girl too?”

  That made her smile. “Wine? I’m sure it’s not up to your usual standards but it’s all I got and we have several hours until dinner is ready.”

  “Wine is glorious and delicious. I’m not picky. As long as there aren’t any lumps in it, I’m good.”

  Lawson felt peaceful. It was a strange feeling after the hectic last few days. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been through such a quiet domestic scene but it made him forget about everything that was going on. He even took pleasure in helping out.

  “This is nice,” he said. “I think we may be having a moment.”

  “Cut that out. There’s no moment.”

  “No moment?”

  She wasn’t amused. “None, whatsoever. Don’t make me throw you out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Bailey made him peel potatoes while she prepared a stuffing mix. They went through a first bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon before opening a second one. The price tag was still on it. It had cost eight dollars but he could swear it tasted like at least ten.

  Dinner was surprisingly good although Lawson chalked it up to the “vacation from his problems” sentiment, to paraphrase the movie What About Bob? They talked about films and TV shows, a little politics. They kept the conversation light, mostly because neither of them felt like they had much in common.

  More and more, Lawson felt comfortable around her. She was prickly at first sight but once you made her at ease she relaxed. Most of all, he sensed that she was beginning to feel comfortable around him as well.

  He helped her wrap up leftovers and volunteered to help with the dishes. He had seen it done once. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

  “I see you have one bottle left,” he said as he peeked inside the fridge. “Were you saving it or can I open it?”

  “I’m not sure I can handle another glass.”

  Her face was indeed rosy and Lawson liked her tipsy like that. For his part, he’d built such a tolerance over the years that he was only faintly buzzed. Not giving her a choice, he opened the last bottle – this time a nine-dollar Chardonnay – and poured two glasses before they retired to the living room.

  The TV was on, playing A Christmas Story for the umpteenth time today. Lawson loved that movie and he knew it by heart. He liked watching Bailey smile when the little kid came down the stairs dressed as a bunny.

  “Why aren’t you a federal agent anymore?” he asked.

  Her smile vanished instantly. She bristled for a moment and looked away. “I…”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I’m just curious.”

  She nodded but kept quiet. They both returned to watching the movie and sipping wine until the next commercial break. She reached for the remote control and turned down the volume.

  “Something happened. In New Orleans.”

  Lawson put his drink down. “Tell me.”

  “I was on the protection detail of this guy, a prince from the Emirates. He spent the day drinking, going to bars, loving the attention. When we came back to the hotel, he insisted on me coming into his room. I didn’t want to, I shouldn’t have. But I wanted to be polite, you know? I thought it was only for a minute. He was charming, said he didn’t often meet tall blondes where he was from. And it was my first big protection detail, I didn’t want to mess up.”

  “Sure,” Lawson whispered and dreading where this was going.

  “I said no when he put his hand on my waist. I was keeping this professional. I said no again and again. You always think you’re gonna know what to do if it happens, right? I didn’t think I would start crying when he unbuttoned my blouse.”

  “Oh shit, Bailey. I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head and straightened up, sniffling and smiling to show that she was strong. “I didn’t let him do more than that. My reflexes kicked in. I tripped him and twisted his arm behind his back until it popped. He screamed so loud that three other agents broke down the door.”

  “Nice…”

  “It was a good feeling at the time, yes. But nobody believed that he was about to rape me. Or if they did, they didn’t care. The country needed his business so it was swept under the rug. They blackballed me, held up against me the fact that I never
should have entered his room alone in the first place. They basically forced me to resign.”

  “I’m really sorry, Bailey. And thanks for telling me.”

  “Whatever. I just hate New Orleans now. So my dad thinks I’m a wuss, not a team player, and we don’t talk anymore. My mother just does what my father says. It’s just me now.”

  They both nodded silently having something in common for once.

  “It’s late,” she said as she stood up. “I guess you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

  Chapter 24

  Lawson woke up with his mouth feeling like he had been chewing sand. He ached all over and it was difficult to sit up on the couch. It was one of the few times he regretted drinking as much.

  “Good morning.”

  He turned toward the voice. Bailey was in the kitchen preparing coffee. He wouldn’t have minded her wearing a sheer babydoll and heels, her hair done up, but she was instead wearing sweats and not a trace of makeup. Welcome to the real world, he thought.

  “Hey. Merry Christmas, I guess. It’s today, right?”

  “Yes. Merry Christmas.”

  This was the first time he remembered waking up with a woman and not having slept with her. It was a strange feeling. He tossed the blanket away and put his pants back on, followed by his T-shirt. He joined her in the kitchen.

  “Here,” she said, handing him a glass of orange juice. “Coffee shouldn’t take long.”

  He drank the juice hurriedly and it went down well, almost taking care of his thirst. He noticed the weird device on the counter.

  “You work for NASA or something?”

  “What?” she asked in confusion.

  “That thing. Time machine?”

  “It’s my coffee maker. It’s a De’Longhi Eletta. It makes the best coffee in the world.”

  Lawson squinted and slowly grinned. “Oh man.”

  “What now?”

  “Finally I figured you out. You try to act like you’re above everything, that nothing can touch you, but you turn out to be a coffee snob!”

  “Shut up,” she spat, annoyed. “You can make your own damn breakfast.”

  Lawson laughed softly, at long last satisfied that she wasn’t as perfect as she made herself to be. Despite her threat, she did at least make him coffee and he had to admit it was delicious.

  “Do you have eggs, cheese, maybe a few veggies?”

  “Sure,” Bailey replied with a concerned frown.

  “Then I’m gonna make an omelette.”

  “You cook?”

  “Don’t try to sound so shocked.”

  Bailey pulled a frying pan from a cupboard while Lawson fetched ingredients from the fridge: eggs, shredded cheese, and half a green bell pepper.

  “I never figured you for somebody who cooks,” she said.

  “Okay, full disclosure. It’s the only thing I know how to make. Goes well with breakfast and it’s serviceable for dinner. And honestly, it impresses the ladies.”

  Bailey groaned. “And there goes what little goodwill you had managed to build up!”

  “Wait till you taste this, my Brownie points are gonna come back with a vengeance. Now scoot. Let the master work.”

  She looked on amused as he went about preparing breakfast. Lawson wasn’t graceful or particularly skilled but the omelette turned out very tasteful. He explained later that it was to thank her for the turkey and the couch.

  “Plus, you know, it’s Christmas.”

  They played rock paper scissors to see who would get to use the bathroom first and Lawson won. He had never showered in such a small stall. He wondered if that was what Soviet Russia used to be like.

  When it was her turn and he came out wearing jeans and a dark sweater, he saw that she had cleaned up the kitchen in the meantime. She was one efficient woman, that was for sure. He returned to the couch to watch TV but nothing good was on.

  He could hear the shower and against his better judgment he wondered what Bailey looked like naked. He imagined walking in on her, watching the steaming water cascading down her athletic body. Would she invite him to join her? No, she would shoot him on sight instead.

  His phone rang. It had to be someone from the family to wish him a Merry Christmas. Probably Morgan because she was the sweet, considerate one. He wondered how they could even be related.

  But it wasn’t her. It was the anonymous caller. The killer.

  Lawson took deep breaths before answering, the last twelve hours having made him forget his predicament.

  “Yes?”

  “Merry Christmas, Lawson. Did Santa bring you anything nice?”

  “What the hell do you want?”

  As he said that, Bailey came out of the bathroom, her hair still wet. She was also wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. She could sense something was going on and came closer. Lawson put the call on speaker.

  “What I want from you this morning is simple. At noon, I want you to be at the Fred Samuel Playground, it’s in Harlem.”

  “Why?” Lawson asked as Bailey quickly wrote this down on the back of a Pizza Hut menu.

  “Relax, it’s just a meeting. You show up, alone obviously. It’s a public place so you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I finally get to meet your sorry ass?”

  “Noon, Lawson. Don’t be late.”

  The line went dead.

  “Oh shit,” Lawson mumbled. “You think he’ll be there? You think this is finally gonna be over?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You think it’s a trap, don’t you?”

  Bailey remained impassive. “I think we have to stay on our toes, is what I think. We don’t have much time, I’d better get ready.”

  Lawson hadn’t argued about being alone because he knew Bailey would be there to have his back. There was no sense in calling the police. They would be spotted and he would be fucked. Bailey dropped him off on Malcolm X Boulevard and he walked to the park while she got into position elsewhere.

  It was crazy how deserted the place was. It was Christmas, after all. People had to be indoors celebrating, inspecting their presents. A shiver went through his spine as he realized he was in unknown territory.

  He had only ever driven through Harlem once or twice. He certainly had never gotten out of the car. He wondered if that made him racist. Against his better judgment, he was uncomfortable and not just because he was dealing with a blackmailing maniac killer. It was his first time in the projects.

  He entered the park on the corner of 139th Street and walked through the empty basketball court. There was a fine layer of snow covering the ground. He found himself quite clever when he glanced down to see if there were any footprints. There weren’t.

  “What’s going on, man?”

  Lawson spun on his heels and saw John walking toward him from 140th Street.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked him, getting closer.

  “What are you talking about, Lawson? I got a text. You said you needed to meet me urgently. What the hell are we doing in Harlem?”

  “You got a text? From me? Jesus, I don’t know what’s happening.”

  But Lawson did know. It had to be some sort of trick. This bastard was always two steps ahead. And sure enough, his phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s good of you to have made it on time.”

  “What’s John doing here? You called him pretending to be me, didn’t you? Why?”

  “Shut up. Now listen carefully. Do you see the second bench near 139th Street? Taped underneath it is a baseball bat.”

  “What?”

  “You will get this bat and you will hit your friend John as hard as you can.”

  “You’re fucking crazy!”

  John perked up. “What’s going on? Are you talking to the killer?”

  “You will swing the bat into his kneecaps. You will hit him in the stomach until he throws up or passes out.”

  Lawson had never been so angry before. He was breathing fast and clutc
hing the phone so hard that for a moment he thought it was going to shatter between his fingers. For the first time in days he saw everything clearly. His mind was made up.

  “I’m tired of your stupid little games.”

  “You know the consequence of you not obeying, don’t you?”

  “I don’t give a shit. That’s enough. I have the truth on my side, you can’t do anything to me. So what I’ll do is grab the baseball bat and shove it so far up your ass that you’ll get tonsillitis. You hear me, motherfucker? This is over.”

  Lawson hung up and relief washed over him. He decided he could live with the consequences and that made him a free man once again.

  “Dude, what the hell?” John asked. “What’s this all about?”

  “I’m done bowing down to these people. Go home. I have a feeling that now that I stopped playing along, this son of a bitch won’t have any leverage on me anymore. So just go home, okay?”

  “You sure, Lawson?”

  “I’m positive. Just go be with your new friend and her family, it’s Christmas. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “All right. Be careful though. And call me if there’s any development.”

  “You got it.”

  Lawson smiled. It was so liberating to get the upper hand for once. He inhaled the cold winter air and watched his best friend walking out of the park, toward his BMW on the curb.

  He himself turned around to leave, about to call Bailey to come pick him up. This was over. He didn’t care what happened next because he could explain absolutely everything. He wasn’t afraid, not anymore.

  The shockwave of the explosion propelled him to the ground.

  His eyes wide and his mouth filled with snow, Lawson turned around, his ears ringing. What was going on?

  John’s car had been blown up. There was nothing left but a heap of metal. His best friend was dead.

  Chapter 25

  Bailey was too far away for the shockwave to reach her but she felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She was standing on the corner of Malcolm X and 138th, keeping her distance to watch whatever was going to happen.