“Stay,” I insisted, certain that was a lie.
Roberta hemmed and hawed awhile, but it was all for show. In the end, she agreed, and we were both relieved. All except The Binkster, whose liquid brown eyes followed me around in silent reproach.
I limped through the house, trying really hard to be a better host. I even went so far as to commiserate with her about what a true rat bastard her soon-to-be ex had to be because he’d kicked her out right before the holidays. Roberta didn’t seem all that comfortable with me trashing him, though, so I gave up and returned to work on the Karen Aldridge case.
I was heading to the office when I made a detour, deciding instead to drive directly to the apartment I’d seen Karen enter two days earlier. I had to circle around a few times before I found a parking spot that gave me a view of the building’s front door. I could also see Karen’s silver Honda once again parked across the street. Squinching down in the seat, I settled in to wait.
And wait I did. Damn near half a day. I had to leave my car, as I wasn’t going to lose my spot, and walk to a McDonald’s that was half a mile away to use the restroom, then hurry back. I had this terrible feeling that something would happen the minute I left, but when I returned everything looked so the same that I allowed myself to believe I hadn’t missed anything. Karen’s car was still parked where it had been since I’d started my surveillance, so I crossed my fingers and took up my vigil again.
About one thirty, Karen and the guy she’d met at the door suddenly appeared, walking down the front steps together. Karen went straight to her car, but the dude in the watch cap and baggy pants sauntered around the corner. I was momentarily unsure what to do: Wait for Karen to pass and then drive around to see where he went? Get out of the Volvo and head toward the apartment building, hoping Karen wouldn’t recognize me as I tried to catch up with the dude on foot? Pull out from the curb and cover my face as I drove past her?
In the end, I just sat paralyzed, my eyes barely above the steering wheel, waiting for Karen to drive off. She took an inordinate amount of time, but then suddenly, a gray Altima whizzed past with a beep-beep meant for Karen, and I saw that my dude buddy was heading into town. I caught the license plate and committed it to memory by saying it aloud about a hundred times in a singsong voice. Karen toot-tooted back to him and then slipped out and drove behind him. I eased out of my parking spot, did a three-point turn and joined the procession. Karen peeled off a few blocks later, but my dude friend just kept heading north. I figured Karen was going to work, so I followed the guy instead.
He took the ramp onto Sunset Highway west and drove to a Home Depot. I turned into the lot a few seconds later and saw him park near the exit doors. I nosed the Volvo into a spot a few rows over that allowed me to pull through for a quick getaway, in case he decided to turn and burn.
Inside the store, I was greeted cheerily by a middle-aged man wearing an orange-and-white apron who wanted to know if he could help me. I almost asked him where the dude in the watch cap, oversized gray jacket and baggy pants went, but figured that really wasn’t what he meant.
I found my quarry just inside the door to the outdoor section, looking over a row of picked-over poinsettias. I had a pang of remorse for coming down so hard on Roberta about the elves.
As the guy was standing there, another similarly dressed dude joined him, and they started slapping hands and hooting their delight at this unexpected meet-and-greet. I kept a sideways eye on them as I examined the meager selection of outdoor furniture. Not exactly the most popular Christmas purchase, although the prices had been slashed, slashed, slashed. It occurred to me that I could maybe pick something up for my back deck on the cheap, but I couldn’t in good conscience part with money for an item I might not be able to use, should I need to escape Chuck and move. Sad thought.
The guy talk turned to cars; my dude was very proud of his Altima. Said his sister had gotten it for him. “Man, she’s good,” he crowed. “You remember Brad, that guy she dated for a while.”
“Died in a car accident, right?”
“Yeah, him. Real depressed type. Always talking about suicide.”
I felt myself react and had to turn away lest I inadvertently caught their attention. I bent down to look at a price tag, but my eyes were practically blind as my ears strained to hear every syllable.
“Didn’t you say he left her some dough?” the new guy asked.
“He left her the car. That’s how I got my ride, man. She gave it to me. I’m gonna trade it in for a Corvette, though.”
“No shit?”
“As soon as this next deal comes down.”
What deal? I silently questioned.
“What deal?” the friend asked.
“Can’t talk about it,” he said. “But man, we’re gonna be rich!”
I heard them moving away, so I turned back. My dude had a poinsettia cradled in one arm, and the two of them were walking toward checkout. I moved in the general direction and walked out of the store about fifteen seconds after they did.
They fist-bumped their good-byes and then headed to their respective vehicles. I followed my guy back to the apartment complex and watched him reenter with his poinsettia.
Well, huh. So, Karen was working some kind of scam. I thought about it hard for several moments, then headed back to Joe’s Jo. As ever, it took awhile to find a spot, but I managed one about two blocks over. I glanced up and saw the gray clouds were high, with no sign of snow yet.
Karen was inside, behind the cash register, ringing up a coffee drink while Trina held a cup beneath the foam spigot. The familiar fsssst of the espresso machine filled the air.
I sauntered to the register and said to Karen, “How’s the macchiatto? What’s the name of it?”
She glared at me and said with an effort, “Black Mamba Macchiatto.”
“Ah, yeah. I see it. Black mamba’s a snake.”
“You gonna order something?”
Her voice dripped with venom. Very black mamba-ish. “I’ll take a black coffee,” I said, keeping my gaze on the chalkboard with the range of their coffee selection behind her. “I don’t see Fake Suicide for Money Mocha in there anywhere,” I added conversationally. Sometimes I surprise myself with what comes out of my mouth.
She went white. It sort of took me aback. Half the time I try these things and prepare myself for the furious denial that often comes as a result; I’ve been threatened with bodily harm by a number of colorful lowlifes who’ve taken offense at my tactics. So, I’d expected fury and sputtering denials and I don’t know what else, but she just went dead.
“My coffee?” I prodded when it looked as if she had turned to ice.
She whipped around without a word, grabbed a paper cup and filled it with regular coffee. I plunked down the coinage and waited for her to recover, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. Another customer had come up behind me while she was getting the coffee, so I took my cup and moved out of the way. I sipped at the drink for several moments while she finished with the man, who also just wanted black coffee, but she never looked up.
Huh.
“I’ll see you later, Karen,” I said when I headed out the door. Still no look up. I’d totally spooked her, so whatever the truth was about her attempt at suicide, I was pretty sure I was on the right track.
Chapter 6
On the way back to Lake Chinook, I plugged in my earbud so I could talk on my cell while I drove. I called Dwayne and, after a couple of snide remarks about his neglecting to tell me about the wine bar trip with Darcy, I told him about Karen’s reaction.
“You tweaked her, huh,” Dwayne said, sounding amused.
“I haven’t been in the best mood. She might have received the brunt of it.”
“You hit a nerve. What do you want to do next?”
“I guess I’ll tell Darcy tonight.”
“Yeah, about that. I don’t think I’m going to make it to dinner.”
I counted to three, really slowly, then said, “I was onl
y going because you were.”
“I figured. From the sound of things, she’s got some offbeat idea about you and me.”
“You mean role-playing with our different partners? Yeah, that’s a little offbeat.”
“Me Santa, you Rudolph,” he said, and I could tell he was fighting laughter.
“She’s not kidding,” I warned him.
“Oh, I think she’s putting us both on.”
“Don’t count on it,” I said darkly. “And if I’m going to dinner, you’re going with me. I’ll pick you up.”
I hung up before he could argue further. So, sue me. I didn’t want to be with Darcy and James, but I did want to be with Dwayne. The Christmas goose sounded good, too, but there was going to be no role-playing.
“Me Santa, you Rudolph,” I muttered.
I didn’t go directly home, even though if I was going to get dressed for dinner—which made me wonder what in God’s name that was going to be—I would have to get a move on. Instead, I went to a flower shop and fought through a bunch of last-minute shoppers to purchase an amaryllis for Roberta, sort of a peace offering and a Christmas gift. I walked out the door, stopped, had a talk with myself, then turned around and bought another for Darcy. A small part of me was actually still thinking of bagging out on the invitation. Some last-minute, near-death illness that took out both me and Dwayne. I knew I wouldn’t do it, but I love to entertain these fantasies about myself.
I really wanted to get Dwayne a gift of some kind, but we had never exchanged gifts in the years we’d known each other and it would be weird to start now. I wasn’t looking for a relationship with him anyway. I wasn’t. Still, I wish I’d forked over the cash for a Covet Bar or two. That would have been an okay gift that Dwayne would have appreciated without thinking it was too weird.
By the time I got home, it was nearly five and I was planning another shower and mentally inventorying my closet. A deeply hidden part of myself I didn’t want to acknowledge was looking forward to the evening because it was basically a date with Dwayne.
I pulled up in front of my house to find a familiar truck already parked in front of my garage: Chuck’s. Groaning inside, I climbed out of my car just as he began backing up. His face was a storm cloud.
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
“You’ll be happy to know the bank turned me down,” he bit out. “I’m not your landlord. The deal’s kaput.”
“Who says I’m happy?” I asked, determined to hide my sudden glee.
“Had to pick up a few things I put in the garage.” He reversed with a little spurt of his tires. My heart swelled with schadenfreude. I shouldn’t feel so good at Chuck’s expense. That wasn’t the Christmas spirit, but my heart filled with joy and I could’ve broken into song. Sure, someone else was bound to buy the place in his stead as I didn’t possess the funds to purchase it myself, but I was willing to take my chances. Better the devil you don’t know, than the asshole you do.
I was actually thinking of freeing the elves as I headed for the front door. My old landlord had emptied out his belongings from the garage and Chuck had put some tools inside even though the deal hadn’t been closed. There was a stack of wood inside, too, that I could probably help myself to. I’ve always wanted to use the garage for my vehicle, so I thought I could maybe build myself a fire on Christmas Day and possibly tuck the Volvo under an actual roof.
Best Christmas present ever.
It began to snow as I walked inside the house, and I was glad that Roberta had left the porch light on. I stopped a moment to enjoy the sight, watching the large flakes lazily drift downward, though they were starting to pile up faster and faster.
I stepped in to the scents of roast beef and cinnamon from the kitchen, and the vanilla wafting off the candles on the Christmas tree. There was a small stack of wood on the hearth and I realized Roberta had been able to get into the garage when Chuck opened the door. My soaring heart took a nosedive. She’d set up the Christmas Eve dinner /evening that I’d never said no to. “Roberta?” I called, heading for the kitchen, just as a splash of headlights lit up the outside of the house.
She wasn’t anywhere to be found. She hadn’t taken off and left those candles flickering dangerously away, had she? And where was The Binkster?
“Binks?” I called anxiously, heading back to the front door. “Roberta?” Her car was outside, so she was around. But who was this newcomer?
I stepped back onto the porch and saw a silver Honda pull up where Chuck’s truck had been. Karen Aldridge’s car.
I froze. This wasn’t good.
“Hey,” I said when she climbed out of her car. “How’d you know where I live?”
“Same way you found Bruno and me,” she snapped out. “I followed you.”
“Bruno’s . . . your brother?” I asked, trying to be all conversation-like, pretending that this wasn’t really dangerous, especially considering the forceful way she was coming at me. I had a moment when I almost ran inside and slammed the door in her face. I’ve done enough process serving to have learned the move from the people who attempt to escape me.
“I didn’t like you threatening me.”
“I wasn’t trying to threaten you,” I lied, hoping my voice didn’t give away my pounding heart.
“You think you’re so smart. You don’t know anything. And that bitch of a friend of yours has got way too much money. Oh, yeah, I always knew who Darcy Wexford was. I set it up on the bridge so she’d ‘save’ me.”
I mistrusted this sudden confession. It didn’t go with the image I’d constructed for her. “Why are you telling me this?”
But Karen just rolled on, “She tried counseling my boyfriend and he thought she was a complete wacko. She is. But she’s a rich wacko.”
“Your boyfriend . . . Brad? Who died in a traffic accident?”
“You know about him?” She shook her head furiously. “Some people just have bad luck, y’know? Brad was depressed and wanted to jump off the Vista Bridge, but he couldn’t get near the edge ’cause Darcy was there. She talked him out of it. And then, three months later, Brad is with his friend and there’s a pileup and Brad dies. It’s just not fair!”
“No, it’s not,” I agreed.
She was shaking with rage and emotion. All of her bored attitude had disappeared. “I told him I was gonna make us a lot of money. He didn’t care, but I did. And Darcy went for it. Dragged me off the fence and took me to her place, plied me with that god-awful tea and just talked and talked forever. It was gonna work. She would have paid me, but then you . . .”
“I don’t think she would’ve. She’s very fond of her money. I . . .”
She pulled a gun from her purse. A Glock, I realized. I lifted my hands in front of my chest, palms out, and backed up, saying, “Wait, wait . . .”
She followed me into the house. “I’m suicidal,” she said. “You tried to stop me and were accidentally shot in the process.”
“No one will believe that,” I burbled. “Suicide victims choose one method and stick with it.”
“You were harassing me,” she went on. “People have seen you at my work. I’ve told everyone how depressed I am, and that you wouldn’t leave me alone.”
I backed up some more, my mind racing. I’ve been in tight spots before, but past experience wasn’t helping me now. This woman was going to shoot me unless I did something fast.
Karen’s gun hand was shaking. I wanted to run. Flee. Get the hell out. I half turned, planning to escape, and my shoulder hit the Christmas tree. Two candles fell over in lines of flame and the tree toppled sideways. Karen inhaled a sharp breath and I switched direction, away from the tree and into her. Slam. The Glock flew across the room and the tree smashed into the floor with a loud bam.
Karen’s hands were in my hair, ripping hard, and she was screaming. It hurt. I tried to yank away from her. I’d flung myself at her to knock her down, but now she clung to me like a burr. Lurching to my feet, I dragged her toward the open front door.
Behind me, there was smoke and fire. Damn it. Damn it!
I scrambled and twisted and wrenched and she lost her grip. Staggering to my feet, I ran outside and suddenly was on the snowy ground as she launched herself into me. I rolled over and looked into her eyes. Her teeth were bared and she looked insane with rage. I smacked my fist at her but couldn’t get a good angle. She grabbed my head and tried to slam it into the ground. I twisted hard and threw her to one side. Fueled by momentum and my own rising fury, I jumped on her and tried to pin her to the ground. She was wild with anger, spitting and cursing, and her body whipped around so hard I couldn’t get a good hold. A distant part of myself couldn’t believe this was happening.
You tweaked her ...
You got that right, Dwayne.
She slipped my grip, got one foot beneath her. I clamped a hand on her shin and yanked. She stumbled and fell and swore, and then we were rolling in the snow. It was cold and slippery and I cursed the fact that I couldn’t grab her like I wanted.
Vaguely, I was aware of someone’s approach. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roberta, her arms laden with kindling, coming from the garage with The Binkster at her heels.
“Get back!” I screamed.
Karen started shrieking when she realized we had witnesses. “She’s trying to kill me!”
I was outraged. I wanted to kick and punch and bite, but she wriggled from my grasp, rolling to her knees. I lunged for her coat at the same moment I saw Roberta rush forward. “Stop!” I yelled as Roberta dropped a cascade of kindling onto Karen’s head and she went still.
Gasping, I struggled to my feet. Karen was groaning but half-unconscious. Zip ties, I thought. I’d kept them in my car ever since I’d learned they were a great handcuffing method.
I staggered to the Volvo and grabbed the zip ties I kept in a side pocket. And that’s when I saw the spreading flames. The inside of my little house was shimmering with orange and red as the Christmas tree went up in flames.
“No . . .”
My cell phone was in my pocket and I grabbed it and punched in 9-1-1. I reported the fire and my address, then bent to Karen and tied her hands in front of her. Her eyes were open, but all the fight had gone out of her. The Binkster had toddled over and was snuffling her face. She pulled back, as if in disgust, and I scooped her into my arms.
When the Snow Falls Page 16
