“Then all you do is call the cops. Don’t go out now and cause trouble.”
“I know where he stays. I’ve got some friends of mine who’ve done a little homework on him. He’s not allowed to get away with this kind of sick shit anymore.” Simon glanced down at his hands, which had balled into fists. It frightened Emily to see how he shook.
“I...I got into trouble a few years back when I beat up on him. Caught him parked outside my apartment. Was unfortunately...a bit strung out at the time. Dragged him out of his car and he went and laid a charge against me.” Simon met her gaze. His chest rose and fell with his ragged breathing. “Despite the restraining order I was still lumped with a suspended sentence for common assault. I’m going to kill him!”
Emily pressed her hands against his chest, feeling the heat radiating off him. Whatever happened, she couldn’t let him out of this house. “Don’t. We’re not even sure it’s him.”
“Oh, it’s him all right.” Simon shook his head. A wry laugh escaped his lips.
“Please, Simon. Let’s just enjoy what’s left of the evening, okay?”
“I’m calling Paul.” He brushed past her, going through to the bathroom where he’d left the rest of his clothing.
On impulse, Emily followed but hung back at the doorway while he waited for the call to go through. Simon paced like some trapped beast in the small room. His gaze remained fixed in the distance, as though he existed somewhere else.
A ferocious scowl disfigured his features. “Paul, answer your damn fucking phone! The creepy bastard is up to his usual tricks like before. I thought you said he wasn’t going to bother me again.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and stood by the basin, leaning on the porcelain.
“Si?”
He exhaled deeply and dropped his head so his hair fell forward to obscure his face. “Fucking voicemail. Bloody typical. Managers are all the same.”
“I’ll call the cops.”
He rounded on her. “Do you honestly think the cops are going to give a shit? They think I’m a fucking joke. Oh, look, that Satanist is such a pussy, can’t even deal with a pathetic little stalker. In their eyes I’m just some drug-addicted, devil-worshipping fag. Just don’t go there, Em, okay? In their eyes I deserve any shit that comes my way.”
On one level his anger triggered a small shiver of fear in her and Emily took a step back, but then anger straightened her spine. “Don’t you presume to lose your temper about this here, on my property. I don’t care if you’re some fucking rock star with an attitude problem, but you’re not going to act like a prima donna in this house, all right? The point remains that the filthy little piece of trash is overstepping his bounds on my property. My property, my rules. I’m calling the cops.”
A key grated in the lock at the front door and they both stiffened.
“Rae’s back,” Emily muttered. “Let’s just drop this entire bullshit story for the rest of this evening.”
“I’m worried about you, Em, for your safety.” Simon’s expression softened and he stepped forward to touch her arm. His fingers trembled.
“Sis?” Rae called down the passage. “You’d better come see this. Or maybe not.”
“Fuck it.” Simon brushed past her.
Her stomach turned over yet Emily followed close behind him, a certain sick knowledge confirmed when she made eye contact with Rae.
“We’ve had another gift left on the doorstep,” said her sister. “Don’t come out. Davy’s dealing with it.”
“What is it?” Emily asked.
“It was…” A choked sob broke her words. “A kitten.” She stepped aside for Simon. He gestured for her to enter the house before he went outside, shutting the door behind him with a firm snap.
Chapter 12
Sweet Revenge
Rae took one look at the abject horror on her sister’s face and exited the house again. Something else was up, she was sure of it, and that something involved Simon doing something stupid. She caught up with him as he was about to exit the gate and interposed herself between him and the latch. Rae pushed him back with all her might, which wouldn’t make the greatest difference in the world if he were really determined to leave.
“What the fuck is going on?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “You know something about this freak, don’t you? You mentioned something along these lines in that interview when you got arrested that time, didn’t you? Now he’s bothering my sister.”
“Don’t mess with something you’re not involved in.” His voice was a low growl, menacing. There was a hardness about him that spoke of that other Simon, the one she tried to ignore when she heard about some of the bad shit he caught.
Rae swallowed hard and tried to draw herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much, considering the man who towered over her. “You’re wrong, Simon. I am involved now. You’re screwing my sister, so we’re practically family.” She jabbed a finger in his chest. “And you’re not going to do something stupid like rushing off to fuck the guy up. Who knows what will happen then? What if they decide to do drug tests? Are you clean, Simon? You can’t tell me you didn’t do drugs while you were on tour. That would be a shit-faced lie if ever there was.”
His shoulders slumped. Damn, she’d been right, and Rae tried to rid herself of the slight, triumphant smile that wanted to twitch to her lips.
“I’m not going to see you hurt my sister because you’re behaving like a thug. You’re not on stage now. You don’t have thousands of screaming fans yelling at you and making you feel like you’re some damn superhero with the biggest cock on the block.”
Davy, still standing at the top of the stairs, cleared his throat. “Um, Rae. What must I do with the...ah?”
“Bury the damn thing, Davy. There’s a spade out back in the Wendy house. Go dig a hole next to the compost heap.”
The young man stood still, flexing his fingers. His gaze shifted from her, to Simon, to the box with its half-rotten contents and back to her again. Then he stooped, picked up the box and vanished around the side of the house.
“What’s the guy’s name?” Rae said.
“Why?” Simon got some of the edge back into his voice.
“What’s the mother fucker’s name and where does he stay?” Rae didn’t quite know what she’d do with the information, but she’d teach the guy a lesson, that much was for sure.
“Now you’re going to charge in and do something stupid.”
The anger raging in Rae’s belly felt as though it flared, and she could almost imagine the flames curling around her fingers to lick out with each word she spoke. “His name, Simon. No one fucks with my sister, and I’m sure as hell not going to see you in the news again for inadvertently causing her grief ‘cause you got your ass in jail for acting like a poes, even if the guy deserves it ten times over.”
Some of the venom in her words must have gotten through to Simon because the fight seemed to go out of him, the iciness leaving his eyes. “Theo Chapman. He lives at number two hundred and forty-three Prince Street.”
Rae almost crowed in triumph. That address was only a block or so away from where Davy lived. She narrowed her eyes at Simon and jabbed a finger at his chest again. “You’re not going to do a thing, okay? You’re going back inside and you and my sister are going to have a great evening. You’re going to make her forget about the dead kitten. I’m going to make sure Theo is going to have one helluva night he’s never going to forget. And if he ever bothers my sister again, you can mention tonight and tell him the next time will be worse.”
Davy returned, scraping his hair out of his face as he took his position next to her. Small beads of perspiration formed on his brow and she wanted to wipe it off, but stood squarely to face Simon, whose face contorted through a series of disbelieving expressions. It gave her a small measure of comfort when Davy put his arm around her waist.
Simon gave a soft snort and backed off. He threw his hands up in the air. “Sure, sure... Leave it to a pair of kids.” His shor
t bark of laughter contained no humor.
Davy lurched forward but Rae restrained him.
“No,” she murmured to Davy. “Let the guy go. I’ve a plan. He’s just trying to play the man.” She’d have liked nothing more than to thump Simon herself, but refrained from saying anything further.
They stood still and waited for Simon to vanish into the house before Rae allowed herself a nasty giggle.
“What the hell is up? I’ve never seen you look so wicked.” Davy gripped her shoulders, his brow furrowed.
“Oh good god, not you as well?” Rae laughed despite the earlier moment’s horridness. “We’re going to go visit this Theo guy, right? I don’t think he’ll cause any trouble again tonight, not after this. But first we’re going across the road to Mrs. De Wet. I know she’s a nosy cow and watches all the comings and goings on this street ‘cause she’s in on the neighborhood watch. Emily is always complaining about some of the comments the old bitch is passing.”
Rae rubbed her chin and looked down the street without really focusing on anything. “Chances are good the paranoid old bird will have a pretty darn good idea of which cars are parked outside in our street for any given time. Hell, she’s already had a prime view of tonight’s little melodrama. Let’s just hope she doesn’t set her dachshunds on me. Last time I counted she had half a dozen.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“I’d bet on it.”
He gazed across the road at the old lady’s house. Davy had yet to experience Mrs. De Wet’s particular brand of annoying holier-than-thou behavior and there was no telling how he’d react to a face-to-face encounter. Rae didn’t want to find out.
“You stay here,” she cautioned him. “No, actually, go fetch the stash. Don’t let Si and Emily see you. I put it in the flower pot ‘round the back. We won’t need it again after tonight.” She sighed. “And I’m going to be done with this shit of setting myself up an amateur dealer. I’m a-gonna miss da bling, but hey, it was fine while it lasted.”
“You’re going to take your sister up on her offer?”
“I’m considering it. Besides, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you again. We’re taking enough of a chance as it is.” A tug of guilt had her putting her arms around his neck to give him a small peck on the cheek. It wasn’t that Rae disliked the kicks she got from selling weed to the people who snubbed her at college. She was tired of the running around, the constantly looking over her shoulder and stressing that the cops or other, less savory types had cottoned onto her activities. How the guys dealing Charlie, crystal and brown dealt with the nagging paranoia, she didn’t know.
Rae took a deep breath then smoothed her skirt and watched while Davy retreated to the back of the house before she crossed the road.
Mrs. De Wet had terrorized them when they were little and visited Auntie Cynthia’s house. Even with their aunt gone on to an old-age home and the house now firmly in Emily’s hands, Rae couldn’t quite displace the feeling that she and her sister weren’t quite welcome on this street. Maybe the cow had also contributed to her sister becoming so withdrawn over the past few years. That, and the stupid, dumbass boyfriend who’d not had the bloody spine to tell Emily that he preferred boys to girls.
“I must be pleasant, I’m the nice girl next door,” Rae muttered as she unlatched the neighbor’s front gate. The queer old bat had attached a discreet rope-and-pulley system that, under any other circumstances, Rae would have found quaint when she heard the tinkling of a small bell by the front door, which immediately set of a cacophony of barking from the interior.
Mrs. De Wet still lived in the previous century. Rae doubted the woman even had a cellphone or touched a computer. “There is such a thing as motion-triggered lights, fool,” she said beneath her breath.
The smile she plastered on her face when the lady opened the door was so saccharine it made Rae’s gums ache. But if she’d want anything but threats from the woman, she’d have to try her damndest to project what little goodness she could to crack Mrs. De Wet’s attitude.
Their neighbor was most likely deep in her eighties. Although Rae doubted anyone could be more wrinkled and stunted, she also figured Mrs. De Wet could quite possibly linger on for a good two or three more decades, possibly even outliving her and Davy, considering their lifestyle. The twisted gnome of a woman peered up at Rae, one claw-like hand gripping the walking stick Rae knew Mrs. De Wet used more for show than anything else. The implied threat was obvious. She’d seen Mrs. De Wet chase a bergie down the road only two days ago. She’d given the vagrant a good run for his money, so to speak.
“What do you want, Miss Clark? I am busy preparing supper.” A throng of assorted black and tan bodies crowded through the gap in the door to spill around Rae’s feet, sniffing at the hem of her skirt and sticking their heads beneath the fabric to snuffle further. Thank goodness the little rat-bags couldn’t reach any higher.
“We have a small problem, Mrs. De Wet, and we’re hoping that since you’re the head of the neighborhood watch, you’d be able to help us. You see, there’s a guy who’s been visiting my sister for quite a few nights now, and I need to know what car he was driving ‘cause I, erm... I...” Now that was sounding lamer by the second. She couldn’t even finish a sentence. Rae fought to keep her expression neutral. Like hell she’d ever consider a career in law.
Small, piggy eyes that missed nothing searched Rae’s face, and she grew warm beneath the scrutiny. It required all her willpower to not turn away, or look over her shoulder to see whether Davy stood in the road waiting already.
“You mean that disreputable skollie who came to see your sister this afternoon? That creature with the long hair? He hasn’t been here for a while.”
Rae gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, no, Mrs. De Wet, that’s her boyfriend and she loves him very much. I’m talking about the guy who parks outside in the evenings sometimes and leaves packages on the doorstep.” Okay, she winged it a bit and took a chance this Theo guy would sit outside in his car, but if she were a stalker, she probably would want to stake out a joint first before venturing forth to cause mischief. Besides, the details matched with the blog she’d read featuring that unfortunate incident in Simon’s past when he’d near killed the man.
The ancient woman gave the appearance of thinking and sucked at her dentures in such a way to make Rae’s flesh crawl. The lady’s eyes grew bright and she offered Rae the first smile she’d seen from her. “Oh, that man!”
“You’ve seen him?” Rae kept her voice even.
“Oh, aye. Not every night, mind you. Mostly he just sits there reading the newspaper. I assumed he waited for someone, because he’s always looking at his watch. Nice-looking chap.” She smacked her lips.
Some neighborhood watch she made. Rae kept smiling. “What car does he drive? You see, he’s a friend of Em’s boyfriend and forgot something by our house this evening.”
“Oh, it’s an old Ford Cortina, you know, like the really nice ones from the olden days. It’s a metallic green with orange pinstripes on the sides. Wait a minute, I’ll fetch you the registration number.” Mrs. De Wet turned, latched the door and doddered away into her house, the shuffling of papers reaching Rae from within.
She had to smirk. The dodgy old bird was good for something. Not that she applied logic to the information she gathered. She thanked the lady when she returned with hastily scribbled digits on a square of paper. Rae skipped down the steps to Davy, who waited by the gate.
“Got him!” Rae jumped about Davy, who held out a steadying hand to stop her from bouncing.
“What are we doing now?”
Rae paused a moment to check whether Mrs. De Wet still stood on the landing, watching them–good, she’d gone in–then Rae grabbed Davy’s hand and started walking.
“We’re going to do a little snooping, that’s all. Our friend drives one of those not-quite-muscle-car Cortinas, like the one your brother wrote off. Now if we match up the car to the address we got off Simon, then
we know for sure it’s Theo who’s been playing the peeping Tom.”
Davy’s grip on her hand tightened a little. “And then what?”
“Then...” Rae giggled. “We’re planting our stash in his post box and you’re calling The Man. You’re gonna tell him you’ve had enough evidence that Theo has been dealing in this area, and that you’ve just seen someone drop a package off at his house.”
“Fuck me. You’re crazy.” Davy met her gaze for a moment but didn’t break his stride.
“Of course I’m crazy. I’m a Clark. We’re all crazy. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t crazy and, for that matter, neither would you.”
“You going all Alice in Wonderland on me?”
“Cheshire puss and all.” Rae couldn’t help but grin.
Davy’s expression grew serious of a sudden and he wiped a tendril of hair behind his ear with his free hand. “We’re still going to go for spliff, just you an’ me from time to time?”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m not going to become a bloody nun, all right? We jus’ gotta sort this shit out then sit back and watch the show. Call it a little bit of revenge, okay?”
“Erm... Okay.” He didn’t sound too sure of himself but didn’t say much more while they walked.
It was a beautiful evening and a rare one for Davy to be off. He’d be working five night shifts in a row for the next few days and she’d intended to make the most of this time. Rae was still amazed at how their friendship had turned.
She’d taken him for granted, that much was true, too absorbed in her own machinations to notice the young man who waited patiently in the wings for her. Although there were a few guys she kind of had the hots for, none of them so much as noticed her–some attached to their girlfriends and others either gay or just not interested.
Was it worthwhile waiting for that Mr. Perfect when Mr. Perfectly Good Enough had been right under her nose all this time? Davy was easy to get on with and played quiet counterpoint to all her antics. He was always there, a shoulder to wail on and dependable. God, had she been such a heartless bitch to string him along all this time?
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