“Well, apparently he’s decided he needs more than just Cynthia,” said Rebecca.
Greg was quiet for a moment. “Unless…”
“What?” she said.
“Unless he doesn’t have Cynthia anymore,” said Greg.
“No, I’m sure she’s okay,” she said.
“But he killed your partner,” said Greg.
“Yeah, but Cynthia is different. He loves her,” she said.
“In his own sick way,” said Sandy.
“Here it is,” said Greg.
“Why don’t you drop me off at the office,” said Rebecca, “and I’ll go in and make sure apartment 143 belongs to Mr. Revo. Y’all go watch the apartment and make sure he doesn’t get away.”
“Okay,” said Greg.
Good thing this was an expensive place, Rebecca thought. At a typical complex, the office would be closed at night.
“Excuse me,” said Rebecca.
The woman behind the counter gave her a look that said, ‘You must have gotten lost, Lady, because you certainly don’t look like you belong here.’ “May I help you?”
Rebecca realized how awful she must look after spending all night and most of the day in a car and then sleeping in her clothes. “Yes. I came to see a friend of mine, but I’m not sure about the apartment number.”
“Well, why didn’t you just call her and ask her?”
Rebecca wanted nothing more than to jump over the counter and bludgeon the snooty woman. “It’s a guy. And my cell phone is—it’s a long story. His name is Enim Revo. I think he said he was in 143. I just wanted to be sure.”
“Ma’am, I’ve never heard that name before. And I’ve been working here for nine years.”
“Well, he just moved in this morning.”
The woman looked over the top of her glasses. “I see.”
“Could you just check it, please?”
The woman worked at her computer a few seconds. “Yes. Here he is. Apartment 143.”
Rebecca rushed out of the office, not bothering to thank the woman or to wait for an apology. She spotted Greg’s Bonneville in the parking lot, and walked over to it. “Okay. Greg, why don’t you wait here while Sandy and I go in?”
“Oh, no way. I’m going in.” Greg opened his door and got out of the car.
“Okay, then. Sandy, you get in the driver’s seat and watch his garage door. If he tries to escape, block him in with Greg’s car.”
Under normal circumstances, Greg would have strongly objected to the idea of his car being used as a bulldozer.
When they reached the apartment, Rebecca said, “I’ll knock. He doesn’t know me. You stay back.”
She rang the doorbell.
And again.
Then she knocked.
No response.
Greg whispered. “Now what?”
She led him around to the side and checked the windows. They were all locked. So, she took off a shoe and used it as a hammer to break a window. Then she unlocked and opened it.
Greg wanted Cynthia back more than anything, but he wasn’t sure about breaking and entering. Were they absolutely sure this was the right apartment? The right tenant? What if they were wrong and they guy had a gun?
“Give me a boost,” whispered Rebecca.
Greg helped her climb in and then waited for her to come back.
He saw a light come on inside—followed by a gunshot!
Greg hit the ground.
Was Rebecca dead? He couldn’t budge. He was frozen in the stone cold silence.
22 - THE RING
Greg’s brain churned at hyper-speed, running through the possibilities. Oh please, God, don’t let Rebecca be dead. He heard somebody walking toward the window. What if it was Larry—with a gun? He was about to jump up and run.
“What are you doing down there?”
He looked up and saw Rebecca. “Thank goodness. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure. There’s nobody here.”
“What was that loud bang?”
“Oh. Is that why you’re down there?” She looked at him and wondered why she had even asked. “Sorry I scared you. I saw a little piece of paper under the kitchen table. So I pushed a chair out of the way and it tipped over and it hit the tile floor.”
Greg stood up. “So what was on the paper?”
“It was just a receipt for chips and cokes. Go around to the door and I’ll let you in so you can help me search the place.”
While Rebecca looked through the kitchen cabinets and drawers, Greg went into the master bedroom.
He prayed he would find the bed still made. But if the covers had been thrown on the floor it could only mean one thing. He flipped the light switch.
The bedspread was still in its place, but it had been ruffled. He studied it for signs of… He felt ill. If he found proof that Larry had forced himself on her, he would fall apart—or turn into a raging madman.
He leaned in close—afraid of what he would see. Then he smelled it—Cynthia’s perfume. He quickly sniffed up and down the bedspread. It was all her.
He fell onto the bed and buried his face in her scent. With his eyes closed, he could see her. Oh Baby, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
The tears began to well up in his eyes.
He stood up and told himself he must hold it together. They would find her. He would get his wife back. His wife. Cynthia was his wife. He wasn’t even used to calling her that yet. They had only been married one day.
He checked the nightstand and found nothing. Then he got down on hands and knees to search the carpet. He flipped up the bedspread and looked under the bed. At first he didn’t see anything. But as he was about to stand up, his eye caught a flicker of light. He tried to locate its source, but it was gone. So, he slowly traced his movements.
He saw it again, and reached under for it.
It was a ring. Cynthia’s wedding ring.
As he studied the ring he had lovingly place on her finger just 24 hours ago, his hand began to tremble.
“What did you find?” Rebecca was standing in the doorway.
“It’s her wedding ring. It was under the bed.”
“Smart woman. She left it for you to find.”
“But wouldn’t he notice it was missing?”
“Probably not, since it’s just a band. The engagement ring had the diamond, right? That’s what people notice.”
“Well, I’m surprised she was still wearing them,” he said.
“Yeah. You would think he would have made her take them off. Maybe he’s pretending to be married to her.”
Greg didn’t respond.
Rebecca knew what he was thinking. “But we’ll find them soon. Don’t worry.”
“How? All we know is that they were here. We don’t know where they went or when they’ll be back.”
“You and Sandy can drop me off at a coffee shop with free internet, and then come back here to watch this place. I need to keep checking his web page for more clues.”
**********
“Where are you taking me?”
“Oh, you’re gonna love it,” said Larry. “Ever done a threesome?”
Cynthia knew he would never give up on having sex with her. She was just hoping to stall him until Greg could rescue her. “That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “But in a good way.”
He pulled off the highway and stopped at a convenience store, parking on the far right side. “I need some tobacco,” he said.
Now she understood why he had stopped smoking his nasty pipe.
“You want something to drink? A bag of chips?”
“No, thanks.”
He reached into the glove box and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
“I’d like to be able to trust you, Baby. But after that little trick you pulled at the apartment, I have to take precautions.”
He handcuffed her left wrist to the steering wheel, got out of the car, and walked into the store.<
br />
Another car pulled up on the left side of the Jaguar. The driver was an older woman—probably mid-seventies. She killed the engine and reached across the seat for her purse. When she glanced up, she noticed Cynthia sitting in the car beside hers, and smiled at her.
Cynthia instinctively returned the smile. Then she realized the woman might have seen the handcuffs.
The old woman got out of her car and walked around to the driver’s side of the Jaguar.
Cynthia slid across the seat and leaned against the steering wheel, trying to hide the cuffs.
“Are you okay, Honey?” said the woman through the closed window.
“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”
The woman pointed to the handcuffs Cynthia was trying to hide.
Cynthia smiled. The woman had already seen the them, so there was no use in lying about it. “It’s just a game my boyfriend and I like to play.”
The old woman looked at Cynthia’s engagement ring and then back at her face. Cynthia suddenly realized her mistake, and she was afraid the woman had caught it. She had just referred to her boyfriend—yet she was wearing an engagement ring. Why hadn’t she called him her fiancé? But just as she was about to correct it, the woman turned and hurried away.
Cynthia watched her walk toward the store entrance. Then Larry came out. When he saw the old woman walking his direction, he started to walk in the opposite direction of his car. What’s he doing? Cynthia wondered.
The old woman called to Larry. Cynthia couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could imagine. No—please don’t ask him for help. Don’t tell him about the handcuffs.
The woman led Larry back toward their cars. This is not good, thought Cynthia.
“See,” said the woman as she stood between the two cars pointing at Cynthia.
Cynthia saw Larry bend down and look at her over the old woman’s shoulder. There was a look in his eyes she had not seen before. An evil look.
He grabbed the woman by the shoulders and threw her down and backward into the side of her car, hitting her head on the door.
She collapsed to the ground.
Cynthia looked down at the woman. She was dazed, but still conscious.
Larry put his face up to the closed window. “See what you’ve done.”
“No! Leave her alone!”
“It’s your fault.”
The woman looked up. She didn’t seem to realize that Larry had purposely harmed her. When she saw him squat down, she thought he would help her get up.
“You seem like a nice lady. But that woman in the car is not nice. She wants you dead.”
Cynthia had to stop him. In one quick motion, she opened the door and flung it at Larry.
She had caught him off guard. He fell sideways and hit his head on the old woman’s car.
He jumped to his feet.
Cynthia closed the door and locked it.
“Open this door!”
She didn’t move a muscle.
Larry reached into his pocket, pulled out the bomb remote, and flipped the lid open.
Cynthia unlocked the door.
He opened it and leaned inside. “I don’t think you realize who you’re dealing with.”
He punched her in the jaw.
She grabbed her face and began to cry.
He got out and closed the door. Then he went back to the old woman, who was still on the ground.
He took her head in his hands.
She looked up at him with thankful eyes.
“You’re an old woman. It’s not safe for you to be out alone at night.”
“I know. But I ran out of cigarettes.”
Larry slammed her head into the side of her car.
“Haven’t you heard? Cigarettes will kill you,” he said.
He smashed her head against the unforgiving metal over and over, until her gray hair began to turn red. Then he raised her head and dropped it on the pavement like a bag of ice. That usually breaks the cubes free, he thought. And sometimes it tears the bag open.
Larry smiled to himself. What if the woman had gone into the store and told the clerk and all the customers about the pretty lady who was handcuffed to the steering wheel? That might have been a serious problem for him. Or what if a customer had come out while he was killing the old woman?
But, as usual, Larry’s luck had saved him. His luck was better than a guardian angel.
23 - LARRY'S LUCK
“Why did you have to kill her?”
Larry puffed on his pipe and smiled.
Cynthia wished she could jump out of the car. But if she didn’t die from hitting the road at 75 mph, she’d surely die when Larry came back to hunt her down.
She had figured Larry for a whacko when he stole her away from her honeymoon. But she hadn’t been sure how dangerous he was. Now she knew he was a cold-blooded killer. He really would push that red button and blow her hand off. She had thought that if she tried to run away, losing her hand would be her worst fate. Now that seemed like the best case scenario.
“What about your luck, Larry? If you’re so lucky then why were you worried about her telling somebody I was handcuffed? Didn’t you trust your luck to keep you out of trouble?
“Oh, my luck worked just fine. I was able to kill her right there in the parking lot without any witnesses. There were four or five customers in the store. Any one of them could have walked out while I was cracking her head open. Yet nobody did. That’s some powerful luck.”
“Then why do you need me? Why don’t you just go buy yourself a lottery ticket and win a fortune. And then I’m sure any number of women would love to be with you.”
“It’s not that I need you. It’s that I want you. And I always get what I want.”
He puffed on his pipe. “But I did buy a lottery ticket for last night’s drawing.”
“Did you win?”
“Of course—$45 million.” He grinned broadly.
Cynthia was amazed. Why is all the good luck wasted on this creep?
“Unless somebody else picked the same numbers—which is possible, but unlikely.”
“So, you don’t know how much you won?”
“Not yet. I haven’t even checked the news.”
“Then how do you know you won?”
“Are you kidding? I’m Lucky Larry. I always win. I haven’t played in a long time because I didn’t need the money. But I knew I could win again whenever I needed to.”
Larry exited Highway 59 and pulled in at a seedy looking motel and parked in front of the office.
He handcuffed Cynthia to the steering wheel.
“Don’t let anybody see the cuffs—unless you want them to die.”
“What are we doing here?”
“I met a very interesting woman online. She’s meeting us here. She’s very hot—you’ll like her. And she’s gonna love your body.” He got out of the car and walked into the office.
Cynthia felt ill. What kind of a sleazy tramp would come to this roach motel to have sex with two strangers? She wondered how much Larry was paying her. And what horrible things would Cynthia be forced to do tonight just to stay alive? Would she ever be the same? And if she survived it, would Greg still want her?
**********
Chaucey opened the dusty package of fishnet thigh highs she had ordered online two years earlier. She couldn’t remember what had possessed her to buy them. Perhaps it was just to see how they made her feel.
She had always been beautiful. In high school she could have had any boy she wanted. But they were all so immature. Art school was not much better.
She had been working full-time for three years when she ran into a good-looking guy in a Blockbuster. Normally she would have walked right past him. But when she saw that he was renting Sense and Sensibility she introduced herself.
“Great movie,” she said.
“Yes, it is.”
“Got anybody to watch it with?”
“Uh…”
“My name is Chaucey.” She
shook his hand.
“Hi. I’m Timothy.”
They went to his place to watch the movie. He was entranced by her beauty. She loved his quiet intellect.
Both families approved of their coupledom. Everybody thought the doctor and the graphic designer were made for each other.
Sexually, Chaucey gave Timothy everything he could have ever hoped for. But emotionally, she always held back a part of herself. He thought she would finally open up to him. But she never did. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She just couldn’t.
Her parents had been so disappointed when they learned of the breakup. She tried to save the relationship. She even posed for a sexy photo and mailed it to him with a plea to give it one more try. He had never responded.
After that, she had gone back into her shell. It was only a year ago that she had allowed a friend into her life. Crow had been a great buddy to hang out with. But now he wanted more. He wanted love.
Her feelings for him were strong, but they were not romantic. How could she ever love a man of his…low intelligence? She hated herself for even thinking those thoughts. But it was the one thing Crow lacked. And it was the thing she desired most.
Barry Undermine was an intellectual—a talented novelist. She imagined being held in his arms, melting in the warmth of his eloquent prose.
When she had walked out on Crow after his declaration of love, and returned to her apartment, she had found a message waiting from Mr. Undermine. He had located her website and sent her an email. She had been shocked and excited.
You are cordially invited to join me for an evening of poetry reading, wine, and lovemaking.
Location: Room 109 at Lovelong Motel in Sugar Land
Time: 9 PM
Sincerely, Barry Undermine
She had responded immediately. Yes, it would be her honor to join him.
She would dazzle him with her sexuality, just in case he was not sufficiently impressed with her mind. Chaucey had never dated a man who was smarter than her. This might be a first, she thought.
**********
Crow heard Chaucey come out of her apartment. He jumped up from the couch and ran to the door. Then he quietly opened it and peeked out just in time to see her walking into the elevator.
Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set Page 50
