Scrambling for more items, Mary Grace found she had nothing left.
Lolita laughed hysterically behind her.
•
Brogan saw the primer colored Chevy Monza at the same time he saw Jones’ Crown Victoria. The headlights of Brogan’s and Bloodsaw’s sedans revealed that both cars were empty. The headlights also revealed the older dark sedan parked behind the Crown Vic. The windows were tinted and the license plate was missing. There was a sticker on the back window that said, ‘Horn broken. Watch for Finger,’ and a dent in the hood and another one on the roof. It sparked an immediate response in Brogan; it was an icy shiver that ran down the length of his spine. The older sedan was the one that had hit Callie Branch, and one that had almost hit Mary Grace.
Jumping out of the car, Brogan made sure that the dented sedan was empty. He looked up the driveway of the plantation style home. “This is it, Vic? What’s this woman’s name?”
“Lewis,” Bloodsaw called back. “This your partner’s car?”
“Call it in,” Brogan said right back. “They’ve got to be in there. And they’ve been in there for a while, so we need backup. Lewis? Isn’t someone named Lewis connected to the case? Oh, Jeez, it’s the dry cleaning store. Big John’s. It’s owned by the same woman. Lolita Lewis. She’s the suspect? She was at the scene at Pictographs, remember?”
Bloodsaw’s radio crackled as he called the event in. Brogan heard a siren in response nearly immediately. Then Bloodsaw yelled, “Brogan, look at the back of the Crown Vic. It’s got holes in it.”
Brogan came around to the back of Jones’ sedan and looked at the holes in the trunk’s lid. There was about ten of them scattered in random pattern. The metal of the trunk’s lid was bent outward. “Bullet holes,” he said ominously.
Brogan went around to the driver’s side door, opened it, and pulled the trunk release lever. Bloodsaw had his service weapon out and pointed toward the ground. He glanced over the edge of the trunk and put it away. He stepped back and used his shoulder mike to call for an ambulance. The code was guaranteed to make emergency response come on the double; an officer was down.
By that time Brogan was leaning over the trunk, worriedly staring at Jones’ unmoving form. The man’s six feet and a couple of inches was curled into a space too small for his length. His hair was a snarl of messy dampness. His skin was flushed and dotted with sweat. Evidently, at one point he had pulled his weapon out and made what were probably air holes. Brogan put two fingers to his wrist and found a pulse. Jones corroborated it by groaning. “I think maybe he overheated in there,” Brogan said to Bloodsaw. “Maybe heat stroke.”
“Why didn’t he use the emergency trunk release?” Bloodsaw said.
Brogan pointed. “It’s been broken off. Someone broke it off before putting him inside.” He said to Jones, “Hey, buddy, there’s paramedics on the way, so don’t go dying on us.”
“Jesus,” Bloodsaw muttered. “I got some water in the car. I’ll pour it over his head. It must have been 150 degrees in there.”
Jones’ eyes opened and settled on Brogan. “She’s in there,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t know who hit me but Mary Grace is alone in there.” His eyes fluttered shut.
Brogan looked toward the plantation house and started to say urgently, “I’ll get a little closer and-” when there was a gunshot. Then there was another one. He began to run as he bellowed over his shoulder at Bloodsaw, “You coming?”
•
Lolita, (or was it Lilly?), was laughing. It sounded as if she was a light bulb short on the Christmas tree. The wheel was spinning but the hamster was dead. She was a few clowns short of a circus. Her cheese had slipped off the cracker. Mary Grace took a rushed step back with the intent of dodging and evading her way right out the other side of the house. Lolita said rapidly, “Don’t move!”
“Did you know that blue eye shadow is out, Lolita?” Mary Grace said quickly. “It’s more earth tones this year. Lots of glitter in the evenings. Plums and mauves in the fall. With your hair coloring and skin tones you could go with a very dramatic bent. I know the best place to get that kind of stuff on sale. Up to fifty percent off. Did you know that you look a little like Angelina Jolie? Post-Billy Bob Thornton, of course, but before she starting popping out puppies with Brad.”
Lolita stared at Mary Grace. Suddenly her eyes went a little hazy. Then she refocused on Mary Grace. “Who are you?” She realized there was an unfamiliar weight in her hand and looked down at the pistol she held. “Why am I holding a gun?”
Mary Grace giggled hysterically. Lilly had become someone else; she had become someone who didn’t know Mary Grace Castilla from Doris Day’s butler’s knickers. “You were about to give it me,” she said, smothering the frenzied laughter.
“I was?” Lolita said, looking curiously, nearly dazedly, at Mary Grace. The barrel of the gun dipped down toward the floor.
“Lolita?” came another voice. Ivan stepped through the door behind Mary Grace and did not look at her. “It’s not our way to shoot people,” he said softly with his Russian accent guttural. “Give me the gun, please. This woman hasn’t done anything to you. If anything you should be shooting me.”
“Ixnay on the ooting-shay ou-yay,” Mary Grace whispered fiercely. “Umbshit-day.”
The pistol jerked up again.
Ivan put both of his hands up soothingly. “Lolita, this is my obsession. It’s something I need to deal with. She’s not worthy of me. She doesn’t want me or our lifestyle. We need to let this go. We need to let her go. She’s worthless.”
“Hey,” Mary Grace protested weakly.
The angry glare came into Lolita’s eyes again and Mary Grace guessed that Lolita had left the building again. “What do you see in that little milksop, Lolita?” Lolita asked viciously. The pistol’s barrel pointed derisively at Mary Grace. “She’s as bad as that one.”
Mary Grace was going to protest but the dark hole of the barrel abruptly made her mouth go dry.
“She’s nothing,” Ivan said relaxingly. He took a step closer. “An aberration. I’ll take down the photographs right this minute. We’ll burn them out back. You’ll light the fire and the kids can roast marshmallows. We’ll drink some vodka and laugh about this. Our lives will go on, one large happy family.”
“Really?” Lolita said doubtfully. “You don’t want her anymore?”
Ivan laughed meanly. “Look at her. She’s a nonentity. She doesn’t stir my blood as one of my women should. I should have visited her months ago to realize this. I have been insane and now my mind is clear. You’ve made it comprehensible for me. You alone have made my mind as it should be.”
“Oh, Ivan,” Lolita said passionately. The gun’s barrel went down again.
Mary Grace nearly threw up. She was well and truly tired of people talking trash about her as if she wasn’t STANDING RIGHT BESIDE THEM. “That’s not what you said a while ago, Ivan,” she said and then suddenly wished she could cut her tongue out.
Lolita’s volcanic glare came back to her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Ker-ist,” Mary Grace cursed violently. “Why do you think I tased him? He was about to ravish me in the bedroom.” She stepped closer to Lolita and motioned at Ivan in a conspiratorial fashion. “Look at him. Can’t you see it in his face?” She paused and then added for effect, “He’s an unadulterated horndog.”
Ivan had a who-me expression on his face, all innocence and passivity. Mary Grace could see the message behind the face: ‘I would never do something like that. I love you. I worship you. She’s scum. She’s a worm. She’s contemptible and pitiful.’
“IVAN!” Lolita bellowed angrily. “Explain this woman’s words!”
Mary Grace said, “Yeah, Ivan. Explain my words.” She took a step closer to Lolita, and reached down for the iron pot she’d thrown earlier.
Lolita glanced at Mary Grace suspiciously. Mary Grace shrugged. “I’m very sorry I made a mess,” she said contritely and went to place it on a coun
tertop.
“Ivan,” Lolita said warningly and looked back at him.
Mary Grace took the heavy pot in both hands and knocked the gun out of Lolita’s hand with an oddly graceful roundhouse swing. She continued the swing and came around in a complete 360 degree circle, gaining momentum as she went about, bringing the pot slightly upward in order to decisively clock Lolita under the chin. There was a sickening crunch as metal met bone. Lolita fell on the ground and stayed there, motionless. Mary Grace dropped the container on the floor and kicked the pistol across the kitchen. She turned to Ivan and hissed, “You have any other women who want to kill me, bitch?”
Ivan gleefully grabbed Mary Grace and tried to kiss her. “I was lying, of course. I was trying to save your life, oh, my dear babushka.” With an almost effortless move, Mary Grace kneed him in the genitals and he fell on the ground next to Lolita, writhing miserably. Pippa appeared in the doorway behind the pair and looked down in shock.
Of course, that was when Brogan barreled into the room with Vic Bloodsaw just behind him. When Brogan saw her battered face, he had to be restrained from strangling Ivan. Mary Grace sat on a step stool and asked Pippa for some ice. Then she added, “He didn’t do this to my face, Brogan. It was the other women. And the cold-cocked brunette added some color. I think I broke her jaw.”
Brogan was so pissed off that he didn’t get to shoot someone that he broke some bones in his hand when he hit the wall with his fist.
Epilogue – Saturday, July 2nd
Get laid regularly. - Aunt Piadora’s Beauty (and well meaning advice) Hints
Brogan said, “Do you swear that the last month is an aberration?”
Mary Grace said, “I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t. Does that cast itch?”
Brogan said, “You seem to spend a lot of time shopping, and no, it doesn’t. Do you have a fingernail file? Or maybe a wire hanger?”
Mary Grace said, “Yes, and I only buy things on sale. The bigger the discount, the better. I worship sales. Sales are my god.”
Brogan said, “Cops don’t make a huge salary.”
Mary Grace said, “Well, graphic artists don’t exactly make a million bucks a year, either.”
Brogan said, “So how do you afford so much?”
Mary Grace said, “I told you. I buy when it’s on sale. I put it on layaway. Also I have a side business that seems to make a lot more money lately. Publicity has been good for me on the Internet. I got a certain proposition last week that made me very happy.”
Brogan said, “Proposition. What, Ivan proposed to you? I’ll rearrange his smug little face.”
Mary Grace said, “He’s in jail, as you know, until they sort everything out, right down the way from Lolita until they transfer her to a psych hospital. Besides, it’s not like he really did anything wrong, except to be a big, woman and child hungry jerk. No, I do this writing thing on the side. A little column. I give advice about beauty and fashion. They’re talking about national syndication. Very lucrative.”
Brogan said, “I guess you would know about beauty and fashion.”
Mary Grace said, “And sometimes I write about sex. Lots of red hot sex.”
Brogan said, “And that, too.”
Mary Grace said, “I’m an inspired woman.”
Brogan said, “Can we stop shopping now?”
Mary Grace said, “Of course, it’s time to move on to my other big love.”
Brogan said, “What’s that?”
Mary Grace said, “Football. I’ve got Cowboys season tickets. It’s preseason time. And I love football.”
Brogan said, “You’re shitting me.”
Mary Grace said, “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Language. Would I lie about something like that? Shopping and football, my two favorite things in the world. I got the season tickets on sale. Well, not exactly on sale, but I got a deal on them. It’s all in who you know.”
Brogan said, “I love you.”
Mary Grace smiled. “Of course you do.”
The End
Dial M for Mascara Page 26
