M.urder R.eady to E.at (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 2)

by Anita Rodgers

I shrugged, "Sorry little bit, no cake today. But maybe tomorrow."

  Melinda lifted Chelsea off the bed and set her down. "Okay Muppets, find your mom and tell her you're hungry." The girls giggled, then scurried out of the room.

  Melinda turned to me. "He can't eat anything because he's going into surgery."

  I raised eyebrows.

  Steve chuckled. "Yup, busted it up good, huh?"

  I looked at Melinda. "When?"

  She shrugged. "The orthopedic surgeon is on his way. We'll know more when he looks at the X-rays and examines him." She shrugged unhappily. "Maybe later today."

  "Hey, quit talking about me like I'm not here," Steve grumped.

  I frowned at him. "Man, you’ll do anything to get a day off, huh?" I nudged him. "Hope you packed your overnight bag."

  Steve shook his head. "Nah, they'll patch me up, throw on a cast and I'll be back to work Monday or Tuesday."

  I flicked his arm. "You don't say?"

  Melinda looked at me and shook her head slowly.

  Steve pointed a finger at his mother. "God Mom, don't do that. Don't tell her "no." I'm back to work next week, no matter what you think."

  Melinda smiled at Steve's outburst and stroked his forehead. "Sweetheart, it's not about what I think. It's about what the doctor thinks." She kissed his forehead. "And I'm still your mom, so I can cluck over you whether you like it or not."

  Steve's eyelids drooped, and he slumped in his bed as the pain meds kicked in and started to take hold. "But I don't need you to cluck over me." He sounded like a five-year-old railing against eating his vegetables. "I'm a man." His head lolled back against the pillow and was out.

  Quietly we stepped out of the room and closed the door.

  I jerked my head toward the room. "So his going back to work next week was the pain meds talking?"

  Melinda nodded. "I'm afraid so." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I didn't want to worry Ted, but it's more serious than a simple break."

  We hung around outside Steve's room for a while, and Melinda badgered the nurses about when the orthopedic surgeon would arrive. No one had any answers, so we trooped into the waiting room and fell into chairs, prepared for the long wait.

  I texted Ted with an update. His response was a quick, 'Thanks. I'll talk to you later.'

  A couple of hours later, the surgeon came to the waiting room to give us the news. He was a small, serious man with graying hair and alert brown eyes. Matter-of-factly, he told us that Steve had broken his leg in three places and there were concerns about pressure on a major artery. However, he couldn't perform the surgery until morning because Steve's stomach had to be empty to handle the anesthetic. "There isn't anything you can do here. He'll be fine, we'll take good care of him. But you should go home and get some rest. Come back in the morning."

  Everyone but Melinda and I got up and gathered their things. Melinda waved them off and said she'd be right behind them. After they left she smiled at me. "How was your vacation?"

  "It was nice."

  "Until now?"

  I shrugged and smiled. "I'm just glad Steve will be okay."

  "Come back to the house and have dinner with us?"

  I shook my head. "Thanks but I think I'll go home and wait for Ted. I've got an early day tomorrow, and I should get a nap, just in case."

  Melinda gave me a quick hug. "Okay, darling. If you need us, we're only a phone call away."

  "Same for me."

  Melinda left, but I hung around for a while. I thought the surgeon might return with more news or questions, but he didn't. When I realized there was no reason to stay, I gathered my things and left the hospital.

  On the way home I couldn’t help thinking about the evening Ted and I might've had if Steve hadn't been hurt. Was life screwing with me or was it fate? My disappointment told me that I wanted him to propose. But my little voice wondered if I really deserved a man like Ted.

  Ted texted asking for an update. I responded with the few details I had — artfully avoiding saying anything that would make him worry. He said he was trying to get the day dispatcher into the office and still hoped we could have dinner later.

  My mood lifted, and I gave life the finger. Maybe Ted and I could outwit fate and have what we wanted in spite of it.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  My buzzing phone woke me. I opened one eye to the darkened room. "Hello."

  "Scotti, it's Donna."

  Her tone opened both my eyes and I sat up. "What's the matter?"

  Her voice was thick like she’d been crying. "I need your help."

  Fully awake, I switched on the light. "What's wrong Donna?"

  With a shaky voice she said, "Another one of Marika's messes. Can you meet me here? It's really important."

  I squinted at the bedside clock. I had a couple of hours before dinner with Ted. "Donna what’s going on?"

  "Hurry." She ended the call.

  I stared at the phone for a few seconds. Donna was a straightforward woman and never spoke in riddles or avoided direct questions. What could be so important that she couldn't tell me over the phone?

  I called Daniels but got his voicemail. "Daniels, it's Scotti. This may be nothing, but I just got a weird call from Donna Jansen. I'm on my way to meet her at Marika's house. I assume you still have a uni there, but if you don't maybe you could have one swing by? Sounds like she's having some kind of trouble, but I don't know how serious. Oh and good job on nabbing Fuller."

  I splashed cold water on my face, then brushed my teeth. There were no texts or messages from Ted, and it didn't bode well for our dinner date at the Castaway's. I called him.

  Phones rang and radio transmissions droned in the background. "Hi baby."

  "Hi, we still on for dinner?"

  He sighed. "It might be more like nine. The dispatcher is on her way in from Orange County, and there's a big pile up at the 605 and the 5. I'm trying to reroute her, but she's probably a couple of hours out."

  I gnawed on my fist. "Maybe we should reschedule. You have enough to worry about. We can go next weekend."

  "No!"

  I looked at the phone in surprise.

  "I'll make it. It'll just be later than we planned. Okay? Wait for me?"

  "Okay. I have a quick errand and then I'm coming straight home. So, I'll be here when you get here."

  I heard his suspicion before he said a word. "What errand?"

  "There's a problem at Marika's house, and Donna wants my help. I'll be back long before you get here." Ted was reluctant to get off the phone because he wanted to grill me. But I convinced him that the sooner he got off the phone, the sooner he'd be finished. "It's probably no more serious than raccoons in the rafters."

  Ted gave in and told me to text him when I got home.

  Boomer whimpered when he saw me heading for the door. "Sorry Booms, you have to stay and protect the home front. I'll be back soon." I wrote a quick note for Zelda, left on a couple of lights and the porch light, then locked the door behind me.

  I hesitated at the door, wondering if I should go back inside to change for dinner, in case I was with Donna longer than expected. But if we were going to be climbing through crawl spaces, looking for critters, the jeans and sneakers made more sense.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, I jumped in the car and headed down the hill. Traffic was light for a Sunday evening, and I arrived at Marika's in under twenty minutes.

  I parked on the street in front of the house and peered through the windshield. There was no uniform standing watch, so the cops had gotten whatever evidence there was to get. And Daniels either hadn't gotten my message or ignored it. Since Fuller was in custody, they probably didn't want to waste their limited resources on an empty house.

  Except for the porch light, the house was dark. I scanned the street for Donna's station wagon but didn’t see it anywhere. Odd since I expected to find her there, waiting for me, not the other way around. Why would she leave me waiting? I called and got her voicemail. "Donna,
it's Scotti. I'm at Marika’s but you aren’t. Call me back."

  The anxiety skittering in my gut told me to get the hell out of there, but it also told me that Donna was in trouble. So I couldn't leave. The street was dark and quiet in that way that made you feel something might leap out at you. I didn’t see anyone but I felt someone — watching. I tried to shake off my nerves. My stalker was dead, and the man responsible for all the misery was in police custody. Who could be watching? I turned and peered through the rear windshield, half-expecting to see Mike and his homies approaching. But I was the only one venturing out in the night.

  I waited another five minutes, but Donna didn't call back or arrive at the house. If it had been anyone else, I would've given in to my instincts and left. But Donna wasn't the type to pull a prank or exaggerate. Something was wrong, and I couldn't just desert her. Checking my bag I found the mini dispenser of pepper spray that Ted made me carry everywhere. Designed for women, the dispenser was disguised as a lipstick tube. I tucked the sprayer into my front jeans pocket. My cell phone I put on vibrate and tucked into my back pocket.

  I got out of the car with just my keys and locked it. Leaning on my car, I checked the street again, then studied the house for a few seconds — as though staring at it would provide an answer to the creep in my gut. Ted would be at my house in an hour, and there’d be hell to pay if I wasn’t there when he arrived. I sighed, then hurried up the walkway. When I came up the porch steps, I noticed the front door was ajar. That dancy spider of doubt tickled my spine.

  Pushing the door open with my foot, I called out, "Donna are you here?" Squinting into the gloom, I saw a light coming from the back. My heart stopped knocking against my rib cage, and I let out a breath. She was in the back of the house and hadn't heard me. Still, I hesitated on the threshold.

  I backed off the porch and down the steps quietly, keeping my eyes on the door. The push-pull of wanting to flee and yet not wanting to abandon a friend, froze me to the spot where I stood. The cute little bungalow on the nice residential street felt like a trap and me the unsuspecting mouse.

  I hurried across the lawn to the driveway and ducked as I walked toward the backyard gate. If anyone looked out the windows, shadows would conceal me. The backyard gate was closed, and I couldn't see into the yard. I nudged it with my hand and it creaked open a couple of inches. Another nudge and another until I could slip through the gap and into the yard.

  When I entered the yard, Donna's car was parked in the drive. The tension dialed down a little – at least I knew she was there. But why hadn’t she answered me when I called? The kitchen windows were lit and covered with light curtains. No shadows moved against the drawn curtains, and I heard no voices or footsteps from inside. No sounds at all but the crickets and my ragged breath.

  Crouched and moving along the north wall of the house, I scanned the premises. All clear. I came to the edge of house and stuck out my head for a quick glance. All clear. Then I felt stupid for all my paranoia. Nothing there but the scary images I’d conjured in my head.

  Scolding myself for being paranoid, I pulled open the kitchen door and went inside. “What the hell?” Donna sat on the kitchen floor — duct tape binding her arms and legs and covering her mouth. Her eyes widened and she bobbed her head forward. She mumbled through her gag, but I didn’t understand what she was trying to tell me.

  I went toward her and she shook her head and mumbled louder. "It's okay honey. I'm here. I've got you." I heard a small whoosh of air, then a sharp pain exploded my head and sent me down the rabbit hole.

  <<>>

  When I opened my eyes, my skull screamed with pain. I squinted through tears, trying to get my bearings. My arms and legs refused to work. Trying to move only slammed my eyes shut again and made me groan. When I opened my eyes, Drew Fuller 's face was inches from mine. My mind struggled to make the computation. He slapped me hard to get my attention.

  I tried to speak, but the duct tape prevented any words from escaping. My arms were bound behind my back and my legs were wrapped in duct tape from my knees to my ankles. Donna sat next to me on the floor — eyes wide and terrified. And clearly Fuller had tossed the place again but leaving nothing intact.

  Fuller stood over me smiling smugly. "Well, good evening pie lady. Here to make a special delivery?"

  I mumbled, "Fuck you."

  He cocked his head and cupped his ear. "You need to speak up, enunciate your words."

  In response, I put my hands flat against the wall behind me, thrust forward and head butted Fuller's shin as hard as I could.

  Fuller canted backward and howled. "You fucking bitch." Lying on the floor, he clutched his leg and groaned. "Son of a fucking bitch!"

  I'd aimed for Fuller's knee but the shin worked too. I smiled beneath my gag, but my victory was short-lived because he staggered to his feet and came for me. He bared his teeth, grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the kitchen floor.

  He shoved me down and straddled me — panting the sour stench of tobacco and liquor in my face. "If you weren't such a pretty little piece of ass, I'd smash your face in right now." He snickered. "I'll wait for that until after we have our fun."

  I wriggled trying to throw him off, but he outweighed me by eighty pounds and still had me by the hair. I was terrified but refused to look away. No matter what he did to me, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of cowing.

  Fuller bent and licked my face. "Oooh, she tastes good." He squeezed my breast hard and his eyes glazed with lust. "I'll bet these little melons are sweet as pie." He smacked his lips. His pupils were dilated like he was high from snorting coke. "I’ll bet you like it rough, huh baby?"

  Tears streamed down my face from the pain, but I refused to look away. Disappointed, Fuller let go of my hair and sat back on his haunches. He studied me for a few seconds as though puzzled.

  Favoring his injured leg, he climbed off me and limped toward Donna. My gut clenched. Would he use Donna to make me submit? I winced at the idea of having to watch while he raped and tortured her.

  He grunted and pulled Donna to her feet. Our eyes met. I tried to reassure her. Tried to telegraph that help was on the way. Daniels knew where I was, Zelda knew, Ted knew. Everybody knew, so where the hell were they?

  Donna screamed through her gag as Fuller threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Still limping, he carried her out of the kitchen. I listened to his footsteps moving away and Donna's muffled screams; straining to hear anything that would tell me what he was doing.

  I struggled into a sitting position, then scooted and wriggled to the wall. But that was as good as it got — I couldn't bend my legs much less get to my feet without help. I scanned the kitchen floor for anything that I could use as a tool. Broken glass, a knife, a nail — anything that would cut or weaken my bonds. For all the mess there was nothing useful.

  Dragging sounds — like heavy furniture scraping across the floor came from the other room. Hadn't the movers taken all the furniture? What was he doing out there? What was he doing to Donna? I prayed to God to save her.

  Then I felt a gap between my mouth and the duct tape. I pushed at it with my tongue. It gave a little. I kept working at the tape, using my tongue, my lips and moving my jaw back and forth. The little gap became bigger. I mustered as much saliva as I could in my mouth and drooled. It helped a little. My eyes darting every time I heard a sound from the other room, I kept working my jaw back and forth and pushing with my tongue. I couldn't get it off but I loosened it enough to breath through my mouth.

  The kitchen door banged open and Fuller limped back into the room. Sweaty and irritated, he glared at me.

  "What did you do to Donna?" I asked. The words were muffled but understandable.

  Fuller grabbed his crotch and chuckled. "Quite a tongue you got there little lady."

  I kept working my jaw. "What do you want, Fuller?"

  With a grin on his face that said I should know the answer to my question Fuller limped closer.


  I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I get that you want to scare me with the rape and ravage thing. But if that's all you wanted, we'd be there now."

  He stepped back and frowned.

  I squinted at him and nodded. "Oh. You think I know something or have something that you want? Is that it?"

  Fuller scowled and ripped the tape off my face. I felt some of my skin come off with the tape but I ignored the burning on my cheeks. "So now you want to talk?"

  His eyes blazed. "Where is it?"

  I honestly didn't know what he meant. "Where is what?"

  He hunched over me and cocked back his fist. "I'm not fucking around here. Just tell me where it is and maybe I'll go a little easier on you."