by Amy Vansant
Bing! Just call me Alex. I don’t have a cute nickname. No one knows about me. I’m that good.
She grimaced. What a little snot.
What do you want, Alex? she typed.
Bing! Your tally.
Was that some sort of slang the kids were using now?
My what?
Bing! How many victims. I want to know your tally of victims.
The emails were coming and going so quickly Jamie felt as if the man was outside her window. As if they were connected. It was unsettling. Who was this?
Bing! You probably think you’re the most prolific serial killer of all time, but not for long. I imagine you’ll never tell me your tally, so I propose this: Let’s have a contest.
Jamie scoffed, both at the notion of a murdering contest and the idea that this idiot had killed more people than she had.
Why would I do that?
Bing! If you don’t, I’ll reveal your identity to the police.
Jamie’s fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before typing. She felt rising anger.
You’re bluffing.
Bing! Am I, Jamie?
She gasped. She hadn’t used her given name with anyone other than her daughter in nearly forty years. She stared at the screen for so long that another email arrived.
Bing! Need some time? You can pick the game. You have two days.
She typed four letters.
Time.
She hit send, shut off the computer and sat, stunned. Then she stood, picked up the laptop, and dashed it to the ground.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m just glad it doesn’t have claws,” said Charlotte.
Darla, Mariska and Carolina had stopped by to usher her to water aerobics. They hadn’t been in her home for more than two seconds before they’d burst into giggles, but she couldn’t blame them. She had an eight pound naked cat wrapped around her neck. The Sphinx she’d inherited from the poisoning case was terrified of her terrier. She couldn’t move without it wrapping itself around her neck like the world’s ugliest furless stole.
“How can you move with that thing around your neck?” asked Darla.
“I make do. He’s terrified of Abby-dog and the poor thing has already been through enough. Lost his mommy and daddy.”
“Why don’t you lock Abby in the bedroom?” suggested Carolina, petting the cat.
“Why should my dog have to be locked in a room just because an uninvited guest is scared of her?”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” agreed Mariska.
Charlotte reached up and scratched the cat behind his ears. “When he’s actually around my neck it’s easier to leave him there, because when he’s not, he’s hopping from place to place trying to get high enough for a running leap at my head. The first day he made a wild jump from the kitchen counter and attached himself to my face like one of those creepy-crawlies from Alien.”
The women continued to cackle.
“Poor thing,” said Charlotte, petting the Sphinx’s face, which was pressed against her cheek. She could feel his body rumbling with a low purr. It wasn’t unpleasant; maybe cat neck massages would be the new rage. “I feel bad for him. It won’t be the end of the world if I have to wear him for a day.”
“What happens in a day?’ asked Carolina.
“The poisoning victim’s kids are coming to close up their parents’ house and I can drop him off. I was finally able to reach them and let them know I had him.”
“Oh, that’s good. What a terrible thing they must be going through, losing both parents in a matter of days.”
Charlotte nodded, walked to the bedroom and pulled the cat from her shoulders to plop him on the bed. The cat spun and tried to make a leap at her, but she was ready for it. She dodged, ran out of the room and shut the door.
“You look like you’ve done that before,” said Mariska.
Charlotte smiled. “Guilty as charged.”
“That’s how I used to get away from my children,” said Darla.
On their way out, Abby ran up the hallway and positioned herself on her stomach, nose pressed against the crack at the bottom of the bedroom door, snuffling.
“That poor cat is going to have a nervous breakdown,” said Carolina, peering down the hall at the curious dog. “How’d you’d like to be locked in a room with a monster sniffing outside the door?”
“Reminds me of my ex-husband,” said Mariska.
Darla slapped her arm, laughing. “You’re terrible.”
Charlotte led the ladies out of the house. “If poisoning didn’t kill him, I don’t think a little stress will.”
“Oh!” Darla touched her arm as they walked down the driveway. “Frank told me to tell you that they found puzzle pieces next to the crossword guy, whatever that means.”
“It means the few deaths we’ve been investigating are probably related and probably murders,” said Charlotte, mulling over the news. She realized she was smiling and Darla was staring at her.
Darla rolled her eyes. “You people are a bunch of sickos.”
The four of them took Mariska’s golf cart to the community pool. Darla gave Carolina her usual seat beside Mariska and perched on the rumble seat beside Charlotte. As Mariska screeched around the corner, Charlotte had to grab Darla to keep her from tumbling off. In the process, she accidentally slapped Darla’s left breast.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” said Charlotte. “I was just trying to keep you from falling!”
“No problem,” said Darla. “That was the best sex I’ve had in years.”
Charlotte grimaced and laughed.
“Mariska!” Carolina’s knuckles were white, holding the rail beside her seat.
“What?”
“Slow down! You drive like a crazy person!”
Mariska pulled into the parking space beside the pool.
“You’re all a bunch of wimps,” she said, gathering her towel and foam floating noodle.
They waved to Jackie, Seamus’ girlfriend, as she set up the boom box for blasting the water aerobics cassette tape. Things were always the highest tech in Pineapple Port.
Struggling to disrobe from their cover-ups, Charlotte was the first to spot the smooth operator making his way toward them. It was Lester, the same tiny, tanned man who’d attempted to proposition Carolina at lunch in St. Pete Beach.
“You’re right, he is from here,” said Charlotte, tapping Mariska’s arm and nodding towards the approaching man.
Mariska followed her motion and spotted Carolina’s admirer. “Oh boy, this should be good,” she muttered to Charlotte. “He wants a pussy cat but he’s going to get a tiger.”
“Hello ladies!” said Lester, holding his hands in the air as if he’d just completed a marathon. “Look at you!”
Charlotte watched as Carolina’s eyes squinted into tiny slits.
“Trying a little aerobics today?” he asked, winking at Carolina.
“No, we thought we’d try the horseback riding,” she said. “But it looks like only the backend has shown up.”
Darla tittered.
The man plowed ahead as if he hadn’t heard her.
“I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot—”
“My feet are just fine,” said Carolina, and she walked into the pool without another word.
“Excuse my sister,” said Mariska. “She’s a married woman and she doesn’t like any nonsense. Are you new in town?”
His gaze lingered on Carolina a moment longer and then he turned his attention to Mariska. “I am. Just moved here a couple of months ago. I’m renting the Tilladays’ house.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “Have some business in the area.”
“What sort of business are you in?”
Before Lester could answer, the music blared to life.
“We better get going,” said Darla, pulling on Mariska’s arm. She caught Charlotte’s eye and whispered, “She’d talk to a tree stump if we let her.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Char
lotte.
With a tight smile she offered Lester a nod and entered the pool with the others.
The ladies lined up and began swinging their legs to the music.
“Charlotte, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” said Jackie, taking a spot beside her.
“What’s up?”
“I’d like to hire you.”
“Hire me? Why? Your boyfriend is a private eye. Just tell Seamus to get on the case.”
“Well that’s just it—Seamus is the reason I need you. I want you to follow him.”
Charlotte stopped swaying to the beat. “Follow him? You think he’s cheating on you?”
“Something’s up. I can tell. I went through all of this with my husband and I am not getting caught off guard again.”
Charlotte sighed. “I don’t know, Jackie. I don’t feel great about following him. He’s kind of my boss. And he’s definitely my boyfriend’s uncle—”
“I know. I’m putting you in an awkward position. I’m sorry. Maybe you could just keep an eye out when you’re around him? Generally?”
Charlotte thought about Seamus’ new client. Simone. Maybe Jackie had caught him talking to her and confused her for a girlfriend. She shrugged and nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to keep my eyes open. Unless I find something, of course. That would hurt.”
“Yes, it would,” said Jackie, her expression souring.
“Charlotte, did you hear about the plants?” said a voice from the opposite side of the pool.
She turned to see Penny Sambrooke wading towards her. She and her husband George owned Pineapple Port.
“Hi Penny, it’s good to see you,” said Charlotte. Penny was about as friendly as a shrew with heartburn, but she’d been having some marriage problems lately. Charlotte thought it would be nice to give her the benefit of the doubt before bracing herself for the worst.
“I said, did you hear about the plants,” Penny repeated, in a sharper tone.
So much for kinder-gentler Penny.
“What plants are those?”
“Someone has been stealing plants from all the houses in Pineapple Port.”
“All the houses?”
“Well, not yours. You never bother to plant any.”
Charlotte winced. “They always die—”
“Someone’s stealing plants?” said Mariska, moving toward the conversation in a slow, half-dancing, half-walking pace. “I thought an animal dug up my sunflower!”
“I’m missing some marigolds,” said Darla. “Well, I’ll be. I just figured Frank found them dead and tossed them in the bin.”
“What kind of neighborhood is this?” said Carolina aloud to no one in particular. “People stealing plants, Lester the Molester lurking about—”
Mariska laughed and the two of them began to giggle. Penny shot them both an evil glare.
“Penny, tell me what you know,” said Charlotte, trying to distract her from the Cackle Twins. She didn’t want to see a war between Penny and Carolina. With that many sharp tongues flying around no one at water aerobics would survive.
“Someone’s stealing plants,” said Penny, turning her sharp glare back to Charlotte. I don’t know how else to say it.”
“So, they’re taking a few plants from each house?”
“Exactly.”
“At night?”
Penny scowled. “If I knew when they were stealing things, I could catch them. That’s your job.”
“My job?” Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. “Am I on the Pineapple Port payroll now?”
“Catch him and we’ll talk,” said Penny, turning and tossing her hand into the air to be sure Charlotte knew she’d been officially dismissed.
Charlotte looked at Mariska. “Nice to see she’s back.”
Carolina lifted her nose and hand in the air, imitating Penny. “La te da.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jamie watched Charlotte and her dog stroll down Pineapple Port’s neighborhood street. Now was her chance. She’d slip inside and look around. See if there were any skeletons in Charlotte’s closet and get a feel for the layout of her home, just in case. Anyone involved in your life, in any capacity, was worth having leverage against. If Charlotte was involved in Stephanie’s life, she needed to be vetted.
And who knew? Jamie didn’t like the idea of Stephanie devoting herself to a slice of white bread like Declan, but maybe clearing the path to love for her daughter would allow the silliness to run its course. She’d come to her senses and move on.
Of course, Stephanie said she wasn’t allowed to kill Charlotte, but maybe she could make the girl less attractive to Declan. Maybe a little accident. Charlotte might lose a leg...maybe a disfiguring fire...
She sighed. Best not to start making plans. For now, spying on Stephanie’s rival would keep her mind off Alex, her homicidal fan. She still had to decide how to handle that situation and she didn’t want to think about it.
Her phone rang.
She grimaced. She hated cell phones. She should have left hers at home. The little squawk boxes were too unpredictable.
“Hello?”
Stephanie began talking without the usual pleasantries. “I got your message. Why did you say the computer I gave you is in pieces all over your floor?”
“Because I threw it to the floor.” Jamie looked up and caught a glimpse of Charlotte disappearing around the corner.
“Why? Where are you? Are you at home? Tell me where you live and I’ll bring you another, but—”
Jamie bit her lip. Stephanie was angry about the computer, but she would be furious if she knew she was anywhere near Charlotte.
“I’m food shopping.”
“Look, we need to talk about this situation. Did you talk to the killer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what did he say?”
“He’s confirmed his name is Alex.”
“Do you know him?”
“Look, this will have to wait. I have errands to run after this. A hair appointment—”
“I thought you were food shopping.”
“I am.”
“You’re going food shopping and then running errands all day?”
“I’m not getting frozen goods. Just, uh...cans of things and whatnot.”
Jamie dropped her head into her hand. How could she be such a terrible liar when it came to such mundane things? Maybe she’d been alone too long. She’d forgotten how to talk to normal people about normal things.
“So you’re out specifically shopping for canned goods?” asked Stephanie. “Are you building a bomb shelter?”
“No, look, I’ll talk to you later. Make an appointment. Pick a time.”
Jamie hung up the phone and turned it off. She had to get moving if she was going to have any time in Charlotte’s house before she returned. She’d timed the girl’s walk during the previous day’s surveillance. Charlotte circled the neighborhood three times, and it took her twenty minutes for each revolution. She still had time to get inside before the girl finished her first loop.
Jamie hopped out of her car and strode to Charlotte’s unlocked door. Slipping inside, she made a quick scan of the depressing mediocrity within. The wall leading into the kitchen had been painted with chalkboard paint. On it, was a food shopping list and a list marked Cases. Scrawled beneath that heading was Catch Puzzle Killer?
Jamie smiled.
Good luck with that.
She moved down the hall to the bedroom. The door was cracked open. If the girl had anything to hide, it would be in there. A person’s bedroom always belied their true nature.
Jamie entered and yelped before slapping her hand across her mouth. A small, dark-haired man with skin the color of nutmeg echoed her surprised squeak and scrambled out of Charlotte’s bed. As he stood, a pair of women’s underwear slid from his chest to the floor.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a heavy Latino accent.
She looked to her side and spotted what was obviously Charlotte’s open underw
ear drawer. She squinted one eye at the man.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
He held up his hands. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“It looks like you’re lying in Charlotte’s bed with her underwear on your chest.”
“What? Where?” he looked down and slapped his chest. “There is no underwears. You are crazy. I am here to fix the pipes.”
Jamie scowled. “I think you are here hoping to clean her pipes, creep.”
The man’s eyes assumed the glazed look of someone not listening and his hips shifted slightly. Jamie could tell he was concentrating on pushing the dropped panties under the bed with his foot. She chuckled silently at his ridiculous plight and pondered her decision. Kill him or let him go? He’d seen her face, but he couldn’t tell anyone about her without incriminating himself. Still, she didn’t like lose ends. Or creeps.
She sized him up. Physically he wasn’t large and even in her fifties, she reckoned she could take him. He’d be caught off guard by her strength, skill and determination. But even a little wrestling would make a mess. Charlotte would know someone had been in her house and DNA would be littered all over the room. And while no one would do a DNA test on a tossed room after an apparent break-in, if for some reason Charlotte later went missing... No. Too risky.
“I’m Charlotte’s aunt. I want you out of here right now!” she demanded, making her eyes blaze with what she hoped looked like angry indignation.
He nodded and held up his hands. “Yes, yes. I go. No problem. I...I fix the pipes later.”
She stepped aside and let him hurry past her, resisting the urge to hook his throat with her forearm. She walked to the bedside and plucked the pair of pink panties from the ground, folded them and placed them back in the drawer.
She returned to the kitchen and paused to give the house one last visual sweep. Time to abort today’s mission. It hadn’t been a successful visit but, on the upside, she hadn’t had time to make any mistakes. Still, she liked to think a moment before she left a room to be sure she didn’t leave anything behind, or miss a detail that could cause her trouble down the road.
A shuffling noise caught her attention and she felt something hit her back, high, near her shoulder. She grunted and whirled, expecting to find the Peeping Tomas. Nothing was behind her but the kitchen island, but she could still feel skin against her neck, a weight, as if someone had dropped a sack of flour, wrapped in warm soft leather, around her neck.
