The Devil You Know

by Mary Monroe

  “I think you should decide what’s best for you.” Joan paused and gave me a hopeful look. “Me, personally, I wouldn’t have a problem living next door to some ex-cons. I have a few ex-cons in my family and they’ve never bothered me. I’d take a chance on that house.”

  * * *

  Maisie and Samuel Cottright, the elderly couple who owned the grocery store where I worked, offered their employees some damn good benefits. In addition to paid vacation and holidays, they allowed us to take off up to three days with pay to attend a family member’s funeral. I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself for the next two days. And I certainly didn’t expect Joan to babysit me. She did enough for me already. I decided to spend the rest of my time off looking for a place to live. And I told myself it wouldn’t hurt to check out the place next door to the halfway house. I decided to sleep on that thought first though.

  Around midnight, we returned to the liquor store and bought another bottle of rum. After we finished it, we decided to turn in for the night. I gave Joan one of my nightgowns and she went to sleep almost immediately. I was glad the room had a king-size bed, because she was the kind of person who tossed and turned and flailed her arms throughout the night. Even with all the space between us, she kicked me so many times I slept in spurts.

  Joan was still asleep when I got up at nine a.m. Then minutes later, she scrambled out of bed yawning and looking around with an amused look on her face. “Damn! I really am in a cheap motel,” she snickered. “I thought I’d had a nightmare.”

  I rolled my eyes and ignored Joan’s remarks. “I’m going to check out that house you called about yesterday,” I told her. I was surprised when she insisted on going with me.

  We showered and left half an hour later. After coffee and some pastries at a nearby coffee shop, we went on our way. When we got to High Street where the house was located, I suddenly felt an extremely cold breeze on my face even though it was April and the temperature was in the midseventies. “Joan, did you feel that?”

  “Feel what?” she asked, giving me a curious look.

  “That cold air that just blew through here. Didn’t you feel it? It was so icy it made me shiver.” All of my windows were rolled up and I had not turned on my air, so there was no explanation for the temperature in my car to suddenly drop to what felt like a below-zero level.

  “I didn’t feel any cold air. I think you had one rum and Coke too many last night and now—stop the car. It’s that house on the right.”

  I parked and looked to my right. What I saw made me shiver even more, even though I could no longer feel the mysterious cold air I’d felt only a few seconds ago. I held my breath and began to tremble. “It’s . . . yellow.”

  “I can see that. Hey, this place is not half bad. Shit. I wouldn’t mind living over here myself!”

  “Joan, I can’t live in a house that color,” I whimpered.

  “Girl, puh-leeze! I can understand you being afraid to wear yellow clothing, but living in a yellow house is a whole different ball game. If you don’t get over that insane fear, you’re going to miss out on a lot of things in this life.”

  “I know that.”

  “I think you should at least consider this place before somebody else grabs it.”

  “Yeah . . . but a house with three bedrooms and two baths? What would I do with all that space?”

  “You could make an office out of one of the bedrooms and a guest room out of one of the others. I can crash with you whenever I need a break from Reed instead of going to my mother’s house.”

  “Well . . .”

  “‘Well’, nothing. I know you don’t like people telling you what to do, but this time I hope you will take my advice. If this lady is willing to rent to you, go for it. And I’ll even pay your first month’s rent.”

  “I wonder how much the security deposit is.”

  “Oh! I forgot to tell you that the lady said she’s not charging a security deposit.”

  I gave Joan an incredulous look. “Damn. She really is desperate to rent this place.”

  “And you’re desperate too. Look, you’re not going to find a deal better than this one. If you don’t take this place, I will. I’ll make it my home away from home.” Joan laughed.

  I laughed too. And then I gave the landlady a call.

  Chapter 41

  Calvin

  IT WAS ELEVEN P.M. WHEN I ENDED MY RENDEZVOUS WITH MARIA. She didn’t want me to leave, and I didn’t want to, but with Sylvia waiting for me to return from my important “meeting” and spend some time with her, I had no choice.

  “I thought that damn man would never stop talking,” I complained when I let myself into our hotel room. Sylvia lay crossways in her nightgown on the king-size bed.

  “How did your meeting go?” she asked dryly.

  I stomped across the floor waving my arms. “It was boring as hell. He went over the same bullshit so many times, I could repeat everything he said! And the dinner I had to suffer through with that punk was even worse.” I flopped down on the bed. “Baby, I am so sorry I couldn’t make it back before now. Do you want to go out for a snack? There’s a fish place a couple of blocks from here.”

  “That’s okay, Calvin. I had a pizza delivered,” she said. I ignored her whiny tone and the sad look on her face. Pulling her into my arms and giving her the most passionate kiss I could manage perked her up right away. When I released her, there was a glow on her face. “I hope you’re not too tired,” I whispered.

  “I’m not,” she said quickly. “I’m never too tired for you.”

  I was still fired up from my fuckfest with Maria. All I had to do to perform like a porn star with Sylvia was pretend I was still with Maria.

  * * *

  After I dropped Sylvia off at her house a few minutes past five p.m. Thursday, I rushed home and literally fell onto my couch.

  Around six p.m. I sent Lola a text:

  Hello, beautiful. I’m back from my San Ysidro run. Can’t wait to see you.

  I had a feeling I’d hear from her soon, but I never thought it’d be less than a minute later. That silly bitch probably walked around with her phone in her hand day and night. Her text was just as annoying as all the others:

  I would love to hook up with you again real soon! I attended my stepmother’s funeral yesterday and I have a few things to take care of before I can see you. Let’s talk soon. Love, Lola

  How soon? I questioned. I didn’t have that much time left, and neither did she. I needed to dispose of this beast before I married Sylvia next month. I wanted to go on my honeymoon with a clear mind and return to begin my new life as a “free” man.

  I poured a shot of vodka and flopped back down on my living room couch. All I wanted to do for a while was think, and I had a lot to think about. I still wanted to have sex with Lola at least one more time before I put her out of her misery, but with the unexpected changes in her personal life, there was no telling when I’d be able to see her. I had to revise my plan again. If I didn’t get to sleep with her before I killed her, I’d be disappointed but I’d get over it.

  An hour after the text from Lola, I drank more vodka and passed out on my couch. When I woke up at six a.m. Friday morning, I watched the local news, made coffee, and called Lola an hour later. She answered two seconds into the first ring. “Hello, Calvin!” Her shrill tone irritated my ears like fingernails scraping down a blackboard.

  “I’m sorry to be calling so early, but I wanted to catch you before you left for work,” I began.

  “I have today off. My employers give us up to three days bereavement leave when a family member dies so we can attend the funeral and have a little time to grieve.”

  “How was the funeral? I’m sure you’re glad it’s behind you.”

  “It was real sad and I’m so glad it’s over. But it was a mess. My stepsiblings were so mean, they had me kicked out of the church right after the service ended.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I’m
not, but in a way I was glad. I didn’t want to be near either one of them. Anyway, I found a house and I’ll probably move in either today or tomorrow.” She paused, but before I could respond she started up again in the same shrill tone. “Calvin, I’m still mourning the loss of my stepmother, but I’m moving forward and everything seems to be working out just fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I hope you found a nice place.”

  “I did. The landlady showed it to me yesterday and I told her I wanted to move in right away. I signed the lease on the spot. It’s a real cute little house with a nice front and backyard, and a garage. There’s a convenience store directly across the street with a Laundromat next to it, a strip mall two blocks away on the same street with some of my favorite discount stores, and an Italian restaurant.” Lola sighed. “Even though the rent is only five fifty a month, they haven’t been able to get a new tenant since the last one moved out months ago. I thought that because of the low rent, the place was haunted, but it’s not. There is something else I’m concerned about though.”

  “Oh? Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “There’s a halfway house next door at the corner, where some ex-cons live.”

  “Hmmm. I can understand why people would be skittish about moving next door to a bunch of ex-cons, and that’s something you should be concerned about. So this house is in a rough neighborhood, huh?”

  “Not really. It’s in a nice, quiet area. The police department is only a quarter of a mile away. The landlady shared quite a bit of information with me about the other neighbors. There’s a duplex on the other side of the house I’m moving into. Two middle-age gay men have lived in one of the units for almost ten years. A retired secretary and her disabled husband have lived in the other one for twenty-two years. The landlady also said that none of the neighbors have had any trouble with the ex-cons since they moved in two years ago. I did a Google search anyway. Except for a drunken snow cone truck driver rear-ending a school bus, I couldn’t find anything on any crimes, big or small, committed on that street in the past five years.”

  “Well, with all the other positive things about the area, I wouldn’t worry too much about the dudes in that halfway house.”

  “I guess I won’t, but . . . the house is yellow. I told you why I don’t like yellow, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember that quite well, but I thought that fear applied only to yellow clothing.”

  “That’s what I thought until I saw that yellow house, a real bright shade at that.” Lola laughed. “I’ll probably never wear yellow clothing again, but I don’t think I have to worry about anything bad happening to me because I live in a house that color. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

  “Lola, it sounds like you’re making some progress with your fear and I’m happy to hear that. Would it be possible for us to get together in your new place once you get settled?”

  She let out a loud gasp. “Um, you mean instead of a hotel?”

  “We can still have a little fun in a nice hotel room from time to time. I just thought it’d be nice for me to help you get comfortable in your new home at least once. Especially since you no longer have those stepsiblings from hell all over you.” I laughed. Lola did too. “Is the house located in South Bay City?”

  “Uh-huh. I don’t have the ad nearby and I don’t remember the address off the top of my head.”

  I silently prayed that she’d reveal enough vital information so I wouldn’t have too much trouble locating her. She didn’t disappoint me. The only thing she didn’t provide was a bull’s-eye on her neck. “But it’s the only yellow house on High Street in the block between Franklin and Webb. And it’s the only house on that block with an orange tree in the front yard.” I almost wished that I could delay her murder so I could savor my exhilaration a little longer, but it would also mean that I’d still be in pain, and even more women would have to die. “It’s on the other side of town, so I’ll have to drive my raggedy old car to work. I don’t mind though. My credit’s pretty good, so I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting my bank to finance a new car.”

  “I am so happy to hear that you’re moving on with your life, Lola. You’re one of the few women I’ve met in the club that I’d like to . . . uh . . . see more frequently, and I hope you feel the same way about me.”

  “I am so glad to hear you say that, Calvin,” she swooned.

  “Well, I’ll let you go. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. We’ll hook up when you’re ready.”

  “Calvin, I told you that I can cook a mean pot of collard greens. When you come over, that’s what we’ll have for dinner.”

  “That’s something to look forward to.”

  “The place needs a little maintenance work, but the handyman just went on vacation yesterday to visit his relatives in Mexico for two weeks. I insisted on moving in right away because I can’t afford this motel much longer. It’s only a couple of minor things that need to be fixed anyway. The kitchen faucet leaks, and the lock on the back door doesn’t work.”

  “So, you’ll have to live for two weeks with a door you can’t lock?”

  “Yup! And the leaky faucet.”

  “Thank God it’s nothing major. Uh . . . I hate to rush off, but I really need to get going. My brother is coming by and I think he just pulled up. Have a good evening, Lola.”

  I hung up and started laughing. I had to rub my ears because I could not believe what I’d just heard. Lola was the poster girl for idiots! “Bitch, you just told a man you hardly know where you’re moving to and that the place has a broken back door lock that won’t be repaired for at least a couple of weeks!” I yelled through clenched teeth.

  I couldn’t take a chance on the landlady hiring someone else to do the repairs before the handyman returned. Lola Poole had only days to live.

  Chapter 42

  Lola

  THE HOUSE I WAS GOING TO MOVE INTO HAD A DECENT-LOOKING couch in the living room, a coffee table, some matching end tables, and kitchen appliances. I still had to get my bedroom furniture and a few other things left in Bertha’s house.

  In the last two days, I had left Libby several messages asking her when I could arrange for somebody with a truck to collect the rest of my stuff. She had not responded yet. Friday morning at seven-thirty, I called Marshall’s number and got his voice mail. I left him a message, but I didn’t expect him to return my call either. Finally, a minute after I’d left the message for Marshall, I caught up with Jeffrey and told him I wanted to get my stuff. I scolded myself for not calling him first. “I’ll take an early break and meet you at the house in about an hour. I’d like to be there to keep Libby in line,” he told me.

  I was in a much better mood now because of my conversation with Calvin. I felt stronger and more relaxed, so it was going to be a little easier for me to return to Bertha’s house to get the rest of my property. I was glad Jeffrey was going to be on the premises to prevent another confrontation between Libby and me, but it was still difficult for me to drive in that direction.

  It was eight-thirty when I turned onto the street where I had lived most of my life. Two blocks from the house, I pulled over because I felt as if I was about to have a panic attack. After taking several deep breaths and drinking half a bottle of water, I felt fine so I drove on.

  Libby’s car was in the driveway. It had been a little over an hour since I’d spoken to Jeffrey, so I thought he’d already be at the house when I got there, but he had not arrived yet. I parked and got out anyway.

  It saddened me to see a For Sale sign already in the front yard. I took several more deep breaths before I had enough nerve to approach the front door. When I knocked, nobody answered. I could hear the television blaring, so I knew somebody was inside. Suddenly, the living-room window curtains parted and I saw old Mr. Fernandez’s scraggly face. He gave me a pitiful look and then he abruptly disappeared. I knocked some more, but nobody answered. A few moments later, the curtains parted again and Libby’s pug-ugly
mug appeared. She gave me a dirty look before she disappeared. I didn’t even bother to knock again. I returned to my car and called up Jeffrey again. I was glad he answered right away.

  “Lola, I was just about to call you. I’m stuck in a major traffic jam on Interstate 880 and I’m not sure when I’ll make it home,” he explained.

  “Libby and Mr. Fernandez from next door are inside, but they won’t let me in. I just need to talk to her about when it’d be convenient for me to bring somebody over here to help me pick up the rest of my stuff.”

  “Well . . . uh . . . that’s another thing.”

  “What’s another thing?”

  “When I called home earlier and told her what you wanted to do, she hung up on me. I knew Mr. Fernandez was there to check out some of the junk in the garage to see what he could use. I called his cell phone, and he told me that right after Libby hung up on me, she called somebody to come haul away everything you left behind.”

  My head started throbbing so hard, it felt like I’d been dropped on it. Tears flooded my eyes. I was so angry that if Libby had been close enough, I would have beaten her to a pulp—and that could still happen when and if she opened the door. I could barely speak, and when I did my words oozed out of my mouth like mud. “She gave my stuff away?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “To Goodwill or the Salvation Army?”

  Jeffrey cleared his throat. “Something . . . like . . . that.” I could tell from the slow way he was speaking that this conversation was as uncomfortable for him as it was for me. “She called a junkman. The dude and a couple of his workers rushed over and picked up everything.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Libby had my stuff hauled to the junkyard?

  “I’m afraid so. I tried to get there in time to stop her, but I couldn’t. I’m going to read her the riot act when I get home. And if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll replace everything myself. One of my poker buddies works for Sears, so I can get a good deal on whatever you need.”