Lucy smiled. “I’d like you to meet my sister, Lexie. Lexie, this is Henry Whitehead.”
Lucy released her death grip on Lexie so she could shake hands with Sister Lucy’s latest victim. Did I shave my legs for this?
Whitehead’s gaze lowered and he stared directly at Lexie’s cleavage.
Her skin crawled with disgust. But what else could she really expect from a caveman?
“You two will have to excuse me a minute,” Lucy interjected. “I’ve got to make sure we’re not running out of soda.” With a wink at Lexie, she disappeared.
Lexie wanted to sprint after her. Run away. Fast. But Lucy would kill her if she did.
“That sister of yours has got a heart of gold,” Henry said. “Did you know she started the annual Christmas program down at the women and children’s shelter?”
Lexie nodded, wondering if Lucy considered her sister a charitable endeavor. “Uh, so what do you do? For a living, I mean.”
Whitehead puffed himself up, making Lexie think of one of those goldfish with the wobbly bubbles on their gills.
“I’m a sanitation engineer.”
“Ah, I see.” A janitor.
That horrible odor wafted Lexie’s way again and her nose twitched. Looking for the possible source, she noticed a heavyset brunette staring daggers at them. Lexie nodded in the brunette’s direction and asked Whitehead if he knew her.
“Ah, yeah. Shit. That’s my ex-wife, Violet.” He ran his hand through his greasy black hair. “I swear she’s stalking me. It’s creepy.”
Ignoring Whitehead’s she-devil of an ex-wife, Lexie took off her bracelet and fiddled with it. She’d purchased the turquoise and silver bauble several years ago at a southwestern jewelry shop, right after she’d found out about Dan and Davina. It cost over two hundred dollars and Lexie would never have considered buying something so expensive. But under the circumstances, she’d decided to splurge.
Lexie accidentally dropped the bracelet and it rolled toward a tree.
“I’ll fetch that for you, honey,” Whitehead said.
Honey?
As he bent over and picked up the bracelet, giving a loud grunt, Lexie caught a birds-eye view of his plumber’s crack. And also another major whiff of the bad smell. Gross. Now Lexie knew where the odor had been coming from. She’d obviously been standing downwind from the definitely not cute-butted Henry Whitehead.
“Here you go.” Whitehead handed over the bracelet. “It’s very pretty. Where’d you get it?”
Lexie quickly gathered her thoughts, which had been out circling Jupiter. Wondering how a grown man could smell so foul, she slid the turquoise and silver southwestern band back on her wrist. “I got it on a trip to Mexico with my ex-husband about a million years ago.”
He chuckled. “I like you. And you’re not large at all. Not like I expected you’d be.”
“Large?”
“You know … um, heavyset.”
“You mean fat.” The jerk-alert started clanging like a fire truck bell in Lexie’s head.
Whitehead shrugged. “What’s a guy to think? The way your sister talked, it sounded like you were hardup for a date, and I just figured … well, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“No harm, no foul.” He cocked his head to the side. Hey, I’m meeting some buddies and their dates at the carnival tonight. Wanna be my arm candy?”
“I’m busy,” she responded in a pleasantly icy tone.
“Doing what?”
Think fast. “Uh, I promised my daughter I’d take her out to dinner.”
“Can’t you take her out another time?”
Lexie scrambled for something that sounded good. “Well, tonight’s the … uh … anniversary of when … uh, Eva lost her first tooth.”
“Wow, you still remember that?” His dark bushy brows, which were actually one large one, shot up.
“Yes. She’s an only child, see, and we take the time to celebrate a lot of little ‘firsts’ together.” Lexie’s mouth was really dry, like a tumbleweed, and she took another sip of soda.
“I’m lucky if I even see my kids these days,” Whitehead said. “And they only call when they want money.”
Lucy sauntered up, an expectant look on her face. “So, how are you two getting along?”
“We’ve been having a nice little chat,” Lexie said. “But I need to get back to the café.” Lexie began to back away, intending to make like a ghost and disappear. Fast.
Lucy quickly death-gripped Lexie’s shoulders. “Don’t you two have big plans for tonight?”
An ambush! By her very own sister.
“Lexie says she’s busy. It’s the anniversary of when her daughter lost her first tooth and they’re going out for a celebration dinner.”
“Really?” Lucy fixed Lexie with her famous, I’m the big sister and I know you’re up to something, look.
“Really,” Lexie repeated emphatically, praying Lucy wouldn’t blow her excuse out of the water.
“It must have slipped your mind, Lexie.” Lucy grinned. “The anniversary is next Friday. Remember?”
Lexie glared at her.
Whitehead grinned ickily at Lexie. “That means we’re on for tonight.”
Her heart flopped to the ground and rolled around like a tennis ball in a metal garbage can lid. Why me, God?
“Excuse me for a moment, ladies.” Taking the dirty diaper smell with him, Whitehead trotted toward the restroom.
Lexie punched Lucy’s arm. “Lying is a sin, you know.”
“At least I can confess to Reverend Lincolnway. You, however, must live with your sin.”
“Oh, brother.”
“Henry’s a nice man, Lexie. I’m sure you two will have an enjoyable evening.”
“Depends on your interpretation of ‘enjoyable’.”
“Give him a chance before you draw and quarter him.”
“Whatever. But I refuse to go out on any more charity-case dates for you.”
You’ll feel differently in the morning.” Lucy gave a Cheshire cat smile, as though she’d just made the match of the century.
Lexie watched as Whitehead trotted back out of the restroom, hairy belly jiggling like Jell-O. “Somehow I doubt it.”
Lexie practically flew back to the café. Eva had handled the busy lunch hour, so the afternoon consisted of stragglers and the time dragged. Thinking of the night ahead, Lexie’s nerves tangled like loose rope in the Wyoming wind. Why, oh why had she agreed to that stupid date with Whitehead? She would much rather have her big toe removed. Make that both big toes.
She had half a mind not to even show up, but she knew once Lucy caught wind of her playing hooky she’d be in big trouble. No, it would be best for her to do her duty and go out with him this one time, then go underground. No more blind dates, no charity-case Casanovas. Nada.
Life was too damn short for this kind of misery.
Since it was so quiet at the café, Lexie left Eva in charge and headed to her back yard for some garden therapy. She retrieved her gloves from the shed and stared at her dry, dusty attempt to grow anything this past summer. With the water rationing restrictions, her garden was a pitiful version of its former glory and her sad harvest had hardly been worth the effort.
Oh, well. Chopping thistles and dandelions always calmed the soul. Forty-five minutes later, Lexie had half the garden weeded and she did feel a little better. After uprooting a basket of underdeveloped carrots for tomorrow’s soup-of-the-day, she slipped back inside and went upstairs to shower.
She changed into a fresh pair of jeans, a blue short-sleeved summer sweater and went downstairs.
Eva, seated at the order counter, looked up from a zoology book she’d been reading. “Mom. Aren’t you going to be late for your date?”
“Probably. And if I’m lucky, maybe he’ll leave for the carnival without me. Too bad, so sad.” Lexie snagged her purse from a closet.
“Is it all right if I use your computer while you’re out?” Eva’s brows arched qu
estioningly. “I have to write a paper for history.”
Lexie winced. She preferred Eva use the computer she’d sent her with to college. But that was forty miles away in her dorm room. What could she say? “Sure, go ahead. Do me a favor and don’t fiddle with any of the settings. OK?”
“Sure, Mom. See ya later.”
Lexie walked out into the backyard where long purple shadows stretched across the ground. She glanced at the weeded half of her garden, deciding she’d do the other half on Sunday when the café was closed. Making her way down a set of ancient, crumbling concrete steps, which she decided to get fixed soon before someone fell and broke their neck, she entered her old garage.
It had been built long after the Victorian had been erected—probably around the 1940s. It was dark and musty and in ramshackle condition, but it did the job of keeping Lexie’s truck and Eva’s little car out of the wind, rain, and snow.
As her truck chugged along the dusty streets, she resigned herself to suffering in silence through the evening. She’d insisted upon picking Whitehead up at his place. That way, she would be in control and had a means of escape if things got ugly.
Before long, she came upon the address of his man-cave, an old, pumpkin-colored house with scruffy, overgrown bushes. She had parked and was walking toward it when suddenly a dog leapt from behind a stand of tall, dry weeds, hackles raised and teeth bared. It was a big mutt with gray shaggy hair and a humped back. He made Cujo look well mannered.
“Nice, doggie,” Lexie soothed as she backed up. Unfortunately, the more she inched away, the more the dog snarled at her.
“Back off, Tiny,” a whiny male voice called out.
Lexie noticed Whitehead at the door, a piece of meat in his hairy hand. Tossing it to the mutt, Tiny snagged it between his fangs and scarfed it down with a gulp. Then he stared at Lexie again with beady black eyes.
“Tiny?” Lexie blinked in surprise.
Whitehead galumphed down the front porch steps. “Yeah, he keeps away the boogie man and my battle ax ex-wife. Unfortunately, he keeps getting loose.” Whitehead grabbed Tiny’s collar and led him toward the bushes, hooking the canine up to a thick chain.
Lexie released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
Whitehead grabbed her arm. “Let’s get a move on. Everyone’s waiting for us.”
At least he’d changed into a button-down jeans shirt that covered his hairy, Jell-O belly. He must have taken a bath, too, probably in Old Spice cologne. And while Whitehead’s cologne scent was nearly overwhelming, almost enough to peel the socks right off your feet, it was definitely preferable to his former eau-de-dirty-diaper scent.
The carnival was its usual self. This was the first time since she’d come home Lexie had attended the cheesy affair that an even cheesier company brought to Moose Creek Junction every year. It offered the same glittery, noisy activities she remembered. Along with the same smells of corn dogs, greasy sausage, and powered sugar covered funnel cakes. Despite its tackiness, Lexie totally loved it. It was just too bad she was with Captain Caveman, the nickname she’d bestowed on Whitehead.
She managed to avoid going on any rides with him until he finally dragged her onto the Ferris wheel. She suffered through his fake yawn and ancient slither-arm-around-the-shoulders-trick by leaning forward and coughing, thus leaving his hairy paw to embrace nothing but air. When the ride finally ended, Lexie said she needed to powder her nose and vamoosed.
Managing to avoid Captain Caveman and his motley crew for the next hour, she snuck into the house of fun and hooted at her reflection in the freaky mirrors, hopped on a car that took her on a hilarious ride through spook alley, and finally wound up at Madame Evangeline’s fortune telling booth.
The elderly gypsy woman, wearing a bright scarf and colorful long skirts, took Lexie inside her darkened tent lit only with candles and lanterns. She sat on a chair covered with silken, tasseled pillows and placed her hands palm down on the table in front of her. She waved her hand toward a chair on the other side of the table, indicating Lexie should sit.
Madame Evangeline closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the patchouli incense curling around the room in snakes of smoke. She tossed her long black and gray hair over her shoulder and her golden earrings tinkled. Her gaze bore into Lexie like a drill.
“I have told your fortune before, have I not, my child?”
“A long time ago.” A shiver crawled up Lexie’s spine. Lucy would think she was a complete fool for coming here and listening to this stuff, along with being sacriligious. But what the heck. It was fun.
“I knew it was so,” the gypsy woman exclaimed, black eyes flashing. “Back when you were but a child and untainted by the world’s cruelties.” She rested her hands on the crystal ball, long red nails like specks of blood on the glowing surface.
“What do you wish to know about your life, child?” she asked Lexie.
Lexie was basically just killing time to avoid Captain Caveman and gang, so it didn’t really matter to her. “Whatever you see in the future for me.”
Madame Evangeline closed her eyes. “I see danger. Danger that lurks in the darkness. Someone from your past seeks to destroy you with his or her jealousy. Be mindful of those around you lest you befall their snare. Beware the Greek.”
Wait a minute—back up the train.
Lexie figured Madame E. would give her the standard line about marrying someone tall dark and handsome and having six kids. Not that she was in danger. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
She pushed money toward the gypsy woman and stood. “Thank you.”
“Please, I’m not finished.”
“Yes, you are.” Lexie blew out of the tent like she’d been stung by a bee. Who believed that fortune teller crap, anyway?
Lexie ferreted out Whitehead at Mort’s duck-shoot and dragged him home, despite his gripes that he wasn’t ready to leave. She took him back to his pumpkin-colored house and deposited him on the front porch.
“Come inside for a while,” he urged.
“No.”
“Ah, come on. Just for a minute so we can talk.”
Lexie finally relented and went inside with him.
Without warning, he leaned forward and embraced her in a hairy bear hug, then shoved his wet, bumpy tongue in her ear. Lexie struggled in his straitjacket embrace.
“I bet you probably haven’t had any nookie in a long time, Lexie. I bet you’re hot. And I can go at it all night—
“Cut it out, Whitehead.” Lexie continued to squirm. “I do not want to make out with you.”
But before she could make her escape, he planted a warm, slobbery kiss on her mouth. With a cry of disgust, she finally broke loose and pushed outside. She flew down the porch steps, wiping her lips on the back of her hand.
Whitehead followed her. “Does this mean you won’t go out with me again?” Disappointment etched his face as Tiny started to growl from somewhere in the dark bushes.
“You got that right. Go find somebody else to play footsies with.”
Digging her keys out of her pocket, Lexie rushed to her truck. She peeled out, flinging tiny asphalt rocks in her wake. Rule number one of dating, she decided, was to stay in public places where men had to behave themselves. She fought back tears of frustration. What a hideous date. But at least it was over. Sister Lucy would pay for this humiliation.
Darkness closed around her truck like a black cloak as she drove home. Anxious to get there as quickly as possible, Lexie turned down Elm Street and stopped for a red light at the intersection. Her heart had stopped racing and she leaned over to turn up the radio to drown out her thoughts. When she sat back up, she noticed the pair of headlights in her rearview mirror. To her amazement, the headlights continued to approach, despite the red light.
She cried out when the vehicle smacked her old truck from behind and her head snapped forward, then back, like a rubber band. Her brain hammered like it had been bounced across the floor. Outraged, Lexie turned ar
ound to holler at the dark vehicle.
Amazed and still somewhat in shock, she watched as the mystery car, neat as you please, pulled out around her truck and shot through the intersection. Squinting, she tried making out the license plate. Nice try, no cigar. It was too dark and her head hurt like hell.
Butt wipes. They could have at least stopped to make sure she hadn’t conked her head on the dashboard and swallowed any teeth.
The light turned green and Lexie still sat in a daze. A wicked bout of hiccoughs jolted her back to reality and she put the truck in gear and drove home. Should she call the cops? No. She really had nothing to report—no license plate, no car description.
Besides, this is what would happen if she tried to tell her brother-in-law, the sheriff. He’d sit back in his office chair, hands laced over his potbelly, chewing on a pen cap. To make it look good, Otis would nod occasionally and pretend to jot notes in dog-eared notebook. Then he would proceed to do nothing.
Hiccough. Hiccough. Lexie’s hands trembled on the steering wheel, but she was really all right. And her old, dinged-up truck would live to fight another battle.
Only two more years, she told herself as she parked and went inside her house. Then she’d have Eva’s car paid off and she could buy herself more reliable transportation. That wasn’t so far off. She could keep her truck band-aided together till then.
“Eva, I’m home,” she called wearily as she started up the stairs, her feet heavy as boulders and her knees still watery. In the small living room she walked past Eva who was plinking away on the computer. Eva didn’t even look up when Lexie sighed and flung herself onto their old, overstuffed couch. Her mind reeling from the night’s events, she stared like a zombie at a Venus flytrap atop Grandmother Castleton’s antique fern stand.
“Back already?” Eva twirled around in the office chair, one leg crossed over the other. She stared at her mother with a perplexed expression.
“It was perfectly awful. Just like I expected.” Lexie hiccoughed.
“What happened?”
“He was all over me.”
“So, did he kiss you, or what?” Eva popped her gum.
“Slobbered me,” hiccough, “is more like it. Then I went home.”
The Saucy Lucy Murders Page 3
