Deadly Satisfaction

by Trice Hickman

  He kissed her again and slowly, they made their way over to her bed. He removed her peach colored lace panties and she slid off his black boxer briefs. They kissed, caressed, sucked, nibbled, and fondled, until Phillip couldn’t take it anymore. He reached over to his pants on the floor and pulled a condom from his wallet. When he returned to the bed, he saw that Donetta was searching for something inside her nightstand. She pulled out a tube, which he could see was lubricant, but what had startled him were the other objects that caught his eye inside the drawer. Even with the hazy, indirect light, he’d been able to see that she had four or five vibrators lying inside.

  She caught him looking at them. “I have them for a reason.”

  “Most women do. But you won’t need them tonight.”

  Making love to Donetta had been tender, hot, exciting, and sexy. But more than anything, it had been a game changer for him, because it had been the first time Phillip had made love to someone whom he wanted to be in a relationship with.

  Now, as Phillip stood beside Donetta’s bed, watching her sleep peacefully, all he could think about was how right it felt to be with her. It had felt natural for him to help her the way he had moments ago. He looked at her again, studying the peaceful expression on her face as she slept. He felt bad that she’d been in so much pain, but he was glad she was getting some rest. He hoped she’d be feeling better by this afternoon so he could come over and spend time with her.

  Phillip stood in place for a few moments, enjoying the silence. He looked up at the ceiling and smiled. “Wow,” he whispered. It had been dark when they’d come in during the wee hours of the morning, but now that it was daytime, he had the opportunity to take in his surroundings, and the first thing that stood out was the crystal-and-chrome chandelier hanging above. It was bold and glamorous, and he thought it fit Donetta’s style perfectly. As he looked around, it was clear to see that she had given attention to detail in the way she’d decorated her home. The color scheme in her bedroom was a mixture of varying shades of grays, purples, and creams, all mixed in with metallic accents. Her large upholstered headboard was outlined with bold stitching and rich fabric, and her bedding was equally as elegant. When Phillip had drifted off to sleep after they’d made love, he remembered thinking that her bedsheets were the softest he’d ever lain under.

  He was drawn from his thoughts when Donetta turned on her side and pulled the comforter up to her neck. He decided it was time to leave, and because it was still so early he had time to go back to his mother’s house and freshen up before driving to the airport. He walked into the living room and stood for a moment, admiring the tasteful and stylish décor, just as he’d done in Donetta’s bedroom. Even though her design and color palette was made up of bold colors that grabbed his attention, her home still felt cozy. Phillip walked around her living room, which was an open concept design, and saw that she had left food on her kitchen counter. He was about to store the turkey sausage and eggs in her refrigerator when an idea came to him.

  Twenty minutes later, Phillip sat at Donetta’s kitchen table eating breakfast. Instead of putting the food away, he’d sautéed the turkey sausage with seasonings from her pantry and made cheese omelets and toast. He quickly finished his meal and then washed and dried the dishes before putting them away. He sent Donetta a text letting her know that her breakfast was waiting on her in the microwave when she got up, and to call him later. Then he texted his mother, who he knew was more than likely still asleep with her hangover, and told her that he would pick up Lauren from the airport.

  Phillip walked back to Donetta’s bedroom and found her still resting comfortably, which put his mind a little more at ease because he was worried about her. He sat on the side of her bed and watched her sleep. He wondered if she had problems like this every month. He knew some women had difficulty with their periods, while others didn’t. Her pain must have been bad because it had caused her to cry out while she’d been in the bathroom. He didn’t think he was the cause of her bleeding—or at least he hoped he wasn’t. Nothing like this had ever happened in the past after he’d made love to a woman.

  He ran his hand gently over her hair, enjoying the softness of each strand that slipped through his fingers. It was amazing to him to think that of all the places to find love and of all the times, it had snuck up on him in his hometown, out of the blue. He stroked Donetta’s hair again and smiled, but then she let out a painful-sounding groan. He waited a few minutes to see if she would do it again, but thankfully, she continued to sleep as soundly as she had before. He made a mental note to ask her about her health when he saw her later that afternoon. Then he gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and headed to the airport.

  Chapter 18

  GENEVA

  After eating a large breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, cheese grits, home fries, freshly brewed coffee, and biscuits with strawberry jam, Geneva, Samuel, and her in-laws were all satisfied and full.

  “Geneva, you outdid yourself,” Herbert said. “This breakfast was better than anything I could’ve ordered in a restaurant.”

  “It was absolutely delicious,” Sarah complimented. “And you must give me your recipe for those biscuits. They melt in your mouth!”

  Geneva smiled. “Thank you both.”

  Samuel walked behind Geneva as she stood at the kitchen sink and he hugged her. “My baby can throw down.” He kissed her on her cheek. “Mom and Dad are right, everything was delicious. Thanks, baby.”

  Geneva loved cooking, and it made her feel good to feed people a meal made with love, especially if it was her family members. But although she appreciated their gratitude and kind words, right now her mind was focused on something far more complex than bacon and eggs. She wanted to be alone with Samuel so she could tell him about the dream she’d had last night.

  Even though her in-laws knew intimate details about Geneva’s past with Johnny, having received information directly from her and Samuel, as well as from online articles during the time of the trial, Geneva didn’t want to involve them in her worries about the dream she’d had and what it might possibly mean. She needed to think of a way to get them out of the room so she could talk privately with her husband.

  When Gabrielle woke up, it gave Geneva the opportunity she’d been looking for.

  “Look at my precious little granddaughter,” Sarah said. She walked over to Gabrielle and lifted her out of the playpen, kissed her on her chubby cheek, and cooed. “Did you get enough rest, my little sweetie pie?”

  Gabrielle giggled and laughed as though she’d been given a new toy.

  “She’s probably ready for a changing after her morning nap,” Geneva said.

  Sarah smiled. “Grandma’s got that covered.”

  “Maria usually takes her for a morning walk after her nap,” Geneva said, referring to their sitter who came to the house three days a week and took care of Gabrielle during the day while Geneva worked at the salon. “It’s a beautiful fall morning, why don’t you and Dad take her for a stroll?” Geneva suggested.

  Herbert perked up. “We’d love to. Sarah and I go for a walk every morning, and now we’ll be able to keep up our exercise routine while we enjoy our granddaughter.”

  “Yes, this is perfect,” Sarah chimed in. “We’ll take turns watching her while we shower and get dressed, and then we’ll head out for a nice long walk around the neighborhood. But before we head upstairs, do you need help cleaning up the kitchen?”

  Herbert nodded. “Two hands are better than one, and you’ve got four right here, willing to help.”

  Geneva smiled. “No, Mom and Dad, don’t worry about the kitchen. Enjoy this time with Gabrielle because I know it’ll be a treat for you two as well as for her.”

  Geneva watched as Samuel’s parents walked upstairs with Gabrielle. Now she had to find a way to get Joe out of the room. Luckily, she didn’t have to try to persuade him with anything because he had plans of his own.

  Joe stretched his arms and yawned. “This is my vacatio
n, so I’m gonna relax. I think I’ll go back upstairs and take a nap so I can sleep off some of this food.” He rubbed his plump stomach and shuffled down the hall toward the stairs.

  “Honey, can you help me with the dishes?” Geneva asked her husband. “I want to talk to you while we get this kitchen back in order.”

  Samuel grabbed a kitchen towel and shook his head. Frustration was etched across his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Geneva asked.

  “He saw all these dirty dishes in this kitchen, but unlike my parents, not once did he offer to help wash a single plate. And beyond that, he was the only one who didn’t thank you for getting up early to cook us a delicious breakfast, yet he ate double what everyone else did.”

  “You know how Joe is.”

  “Yeah, I do, and it pisses me off. Whenever Joe does something rude or inconsiderate, or acts like a complete ass, like he did last night, everyone always says, ‘You know how Joe is.’ I’m sick of it.”

  Geneva knew that Joe got on Samuel’s last nerve, as his brother did with most people, and they’d been adversaries since their days in the sandbox. But normally Samuel didn’t let Joe get to him. Other than Geneva’s late mother, Samuel was one of the most calm, easygoing people she’d ever known. But this morning he’d seemed irritated from the moment he’d come downstairs. Geneva knew her husband well, and she knew something was wrong. “Honey, are you okay?”

  “It was a bad idea for Joe to come here. I tried to be okay with it, but I don’t want him in our house.”

  “I know you two have your issues, and you’ve never quite seen eye to eye. But it’s the holidays and he’s family, so try to tolerate him for the next two days. After that he’ll be on a flight back to Maryland.”

  “If I’d known he was planning to come, I would’ve told him to stay home, and I think he knows it. That’s why he didn’t tell me ahead of time.”

  “He said he wanted to surprise you.”

  “He fed our parents that same story, and asked them not to say anything, but I know he’s lying through his teeth.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know my brother. He’s a selfish bastard.”

  Geneva nearly dropped the plate she was loading into the dishwasher. “Samuel! What’s gotten into you?” She’d initially been focused on telling him about her dream, but now her concern had shifted to why her husband was so upset with his brother. Samuel rarely used harsh words, and the only time she could ever remember him cursing was during the time right before Johnny’s murder, when Samuel had wanted to kill Johnny for causing the accident that had led to Geneva’s miscarriage.

  “Geneva, I want him out of this house. There are plenty of hotels in town with vacancies.”

  “Honey, it’s the holidays.”

  Samuel looked at her as if to say, So?

  “Joe has always gotten on your nerves, but this is something different. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Samuel looked away from her. “I just want him out of here.”

  “Samuel, please tell me what’s wrong. What’s the real reason you’re so upset with Joe?”

  After a pause filled with silence, Samuel let out a deep breath. “Let’s sit down so we can talk,” he said as he led Geneva into the family room.

  Geneva sat on the couch in the exact spot where she’d been sitting yesterday afternoon when she’d been speechless while listening to Vivana’s interview, and now, she was speechless again as she listened to Samuel tell her the real reason he was so upset with his brother.

  Chapter 19

  CHARLENE

  Charlene had been sitting at her breakfast table all morning, unable to move as her mind continued to race. She’d been concentrating so hard that a worry line had formed across her forehead. “Who could’ve sent that text?” she questioned, trying to figure out who had sent the cryptic message to her phone. She desperately needed that answer because she knew it was going to be the key to preventing her undoing.

  She wished she’d dealt with the troubling situation when she’d first received the message. But at the time she’d been stressed beyond her limits. She’d justified killing Johnny by likening herself to a moral Robin Hood, exacting justice for the innocent. It had been the only way she’d been able to live with the sobering fact that she’d allowed her hurt and anger to turn her into a cold-blooded killer.

  But at the time what had concerned Charlene even more than the fact that she’d killed someone were the disturbing changes she’d begun to see in her daughter. After Lauren and the rest of the family had discovered that Lauren’s boyfriend was actually her half brother, it had changed her daughter from the inside out. Her mannerisms and her outward appearance began to morph into those of a person whom Charlene didn’t recognize. Charlene had also been so drained from the multitude of her life crises that a few times she’d actually considered turning herself in so at least she’d finally have peace of mind about something. That was one reason that, although the text had frightened her, she’d never acted upon it.

  Charlene had fully expected to receive another cryptic message right behind the initial one, this time asking for hush money, the way Johnny had done. She’d been prepared to tell the mysterious blackmailer no, and let the deck of cards simply collapse around her, because she had no intention of entering into the same type of blackmail scheme that had led her to become a murderer in the first place. But a few days went by without so much as a peep. Eventually, days turned into weeks, and those weeks morphed into months. “I can’t worry about the things I can’t change,” Charlene had told herself. “I have to move forward with my life, regardless of what happens.”

  Charlene shook her head. “I should’ve put fear aside and gotten to the bottom of it a long time ago,” she said. “I should’ve addressed that text the same way I addressed all the other problems going on in my life. But instead I put it off, and now it’s coming back to bite me.” Charlene let out a deep breath of frustration. But again, she knew she couldn’t beat herself up over something she couldn’t change. She couldn’t undo Johnny’s murder, or the fact that there was someone out there who knew she’d done it. Suddenly an idea occurred to her. “The person who texted me has got to be Leslie’s source of evidence.” But the more she thought about it, the more confused she became.

  The mysterious texter had said they had proof that Charlene was the murderer, and during Leslie’s solo interview this morning, she’d hinted that the new evidence she’d uncovered had come from something Vivana had said in a conversation that she and Leslie had had. This meant there were actually two separate sources that could point the finger back to Charlene. She knew she had to think strategically about what her next move should be. “I’ll handle each problem one step at a time,” she told herself. She’d deal with Leslie next Monday morning when they were scheduled to meet for coffee. But right now, Charlene’s main focus was to uncover the identity of the person who’d sent her the text.

  “I need to think about everyone who has my number.” Charlene used two cell phones; one for business and one for personal calls, and she rarely allowed her contacts lists for the two to merge. The text had been sent during business hours while she’d been in her office at City Hall, but it had come through on her personal phone. By the process of elimination, she knew the texter had to be someone within the tight-knit group of people who had access to her private cell. She immediately eliminated her children and other close family members as suspects, then she thought about her friends and acquaintances. Charlene had always been very private and selective about her home life and who she allowed into her world, so the list was small.

  “The texter probably knew Johnny, as well,” Charlene mused aloud. “Who could that be?” She thought about the other women whom Johnny had blackmailed. But she dismissed that theory, because each one of them had said that although they didn’t kill him, they’d wanted to shake the killer’s hand and thank them for a job well done. Then Charlene thought about Mark and
Marjorie Thomas, the couple who’d referred her to Johnny. But then she dismissed them, as well, because the two had been far too busy at the time with a toddler and a newborn to involve themselves with murder. “It has to be someone who wants something from me,” Charlene said aloud. “But then again, they haven’t asked for any money.” The only other person she could think of who had her private number, and who’d been associated with Johnny, was her stylist, Geneva.

  She’d become close to Geneva in the nearly two and a half years that Geneva had been her stylist. Charlene admired Geneva’s professional skills, and she respected the fact that she always stayed above the fray of petty salon gossip. Geneva was one of the few people Charlene truly trusted. After Johnny’s death, ironically, Geneva had come to Charlene privately for legal advice. The two lead detectives assigned to Johnny’s murder had begun to hound Geneva and Samuel, and although both of them were innocent, their motives were the strongest of nearly all the other suspects. Charlene had been more than happy to help Geneva, though, as it kept Charlene close to the investigation with inside information.

  But as Charlene thought more and more about Geneva possibly being the texter, she had to dismiss her, as well. She’d gotten to know Geneva during the dozens of times she’d counseled her, and there wasn’t anything about her character to make Charlene believe she’d do something so conniving.

  “It has to be someone who’s devious, deceptive, and cunning,” Charlene whispered to herself. The person didn’t want money, so she knew there had to be something non-tangible they stood to gain. She also knew the person had to be someone who enjoyed playing games, because they’d dangled the threat over Charlene’s head, probably taking pleasure in knowing Charlene would live in fear of it each day of her life. “The person wants power and control.” Then, as if a light switch had been turned on, Charlene knew exactly who it could be. “Why didn’t I think of her before now?!”

  Just then Charlene heard a loud thump that jarred her from her thoughts.