Reflections of a Stranger

by Linda Hanna

  A hateful sneer came to Rita’s face. “Five million dollar will buy new life. No more debt, and no more bad job.” She frowned and pointed to Emily. “And no more religious kooks!”

  Cora shook her head. “Greedy people like him are all alike. He has no intention of giving you your share of the money.”

  “You do not know. Keep your mouth shut.” Rita rubbed the tender spot on her forehead.

  Obviously this new injury took a toll on the young woman. An angry man who manipulated everything would be stressful enough, but this unplanned kidnapping must’ve pushed her over the edge.

  Rita rubbed her head and cringed as if the action caused great discomfort. “My head aches,” she complained.

  Headache? Did she say headache? A mischievously brilliant plan popped into Cora’s mind. Was this their open door? As if on cue, the twins looked at each other.

  Cora cleared her throat, and tried to keep as subdued as possible. “Em had a doozy of a headache when we first got here. Well, you know, you saw her. Couldn’t stand the light or the noises. And all the smells, well, let’s not go there.” For a moment, her guilt almost convinced her to ditch the idea. Her heart raced. She had to do it. This might be their only chance.

  “You think I am fool?” Rita looked at her skeptically, then pointed to Emily. “The old bandido said she was not so much sick.”

  “He wouldn’t have caught us if I hadn’t been ill,” Emily said.

  “What did you do for pain?”

  “I took one of my little pills. Within five minutes I noticed a big difference!”

  Rita’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of drugs. “Is it prescripción? You got more?”

  “Oh, yes. I have to keep them with me all the time. I never know when I’ll need one.”

  Cora noticed Emily’s mouth quirk as if to fight a smile.

  “Give me this pill.”

  “No, no, no. It’s a prescription meant just for me. I couldn’t possibly give you one. Maybe you should go to the corner drug store and get something for yourself.”

  “I take any prescripcións. I want this pill, now.” Rita sternly patted the gun in her waistband.

  “You certainly drive a hard bargain. There should be some in my robe pocket, unless they fell out when your friend threw me on the bed. Untie my hands and I’ll get one for you.”

  The captor held her head and eyed Emily suspiciously. “What? I am loco? You will kill me and run, sí?”

  “I couldn’t overpower you if I wanted to. Just look at me. I’m a shriveled up old lady. I’ve been tied up on this bed for hours and my bladder’s bursting. My legs are so stiff and sore, it’ll be hard to stand let alone make a run for it. Let me go to the bathroom while you take one of my pills.” Emily waited for Rita to answer.

  “The pain is too bad. I…I cannot think.”

  “If you don’t want my pill, fine, but I’ve really got to go.” Emily squirmed for effect.

  “How I take wonder aspirina? El augua stinks.”

  “You don’t have to use water. They’re very small,” Em reassured. “Just let it dissolve under your tongue. That’s what I do.”

  Rita reluctantly loosened the nylon rope that bound Emily’s hands and feet. “I will trust you.” She pulled the gun from her waistband. “Do not escapar. I will shoot.”

  After Emily dispensed a nitroglycerin pill, she scooted to the foot of the bed and stood.

  Cora watched her lean against the wall for support and shuffle unsteadily into the bathroom. The medicine might not worsen Rita’s headache, but it was worth a try. A smidgen of hope formed in her chest.

  Without hesitation, Rita placed the tablet under her tongue.

  A few minutes later, Emily called from the bathroom, “How are you feeling, Rita?”

  “¡Ay! ¡Caramba!” Rita’s gun fell to the floor as she slumped into the faux leather chair. With muffled moans, the suffering woman grasped her head. The drug-induced pain had struck.

  “Em, now!” Cora yelled. “Come untie me and let’s get out of here.”

  Emily poked her head out the bathroom door, and cautiously looked at Rita. She knelt to untie her twin’s ankles. “You’ve got a gash on your foot. What happened?”

  “I got cut on that broken coffee cup when ol’ Sasquatch caught me.” When Cora was freed from the ropes, a searing pain rushed through her foot as she stood for Emily to untie her hands. “Where’s my slipper, Em?”

  Emily scooped the limp duck off the floor. Her finger went through a bullet hole. “Poor little thing’s been shot through the quacker.”

  Cora grabbed her slipper, jammed her foot inside, and stepped down. Phttt!

  With a giggle, Emily glanced at the chair-borne Rita. “Oooh. Her face is gray.”

  A tinge of guilt pricked at Cora’s conscience. “I hope she doesn’t suffer any permanent damage from your medicine.”

  Emily frowned, grabbed Rita’s glow-in-the-dark purse and retrieved its scattered contents, and then shoved the loaded gun in, too. “We can’t worry about that now. This is self-preservation and as they say, all’s fair in love and war.”

  23

  Cora eyed the telephone before she left the room and was tempted to use it until Rita stirred in her chair. Fearful their kidnapper would rally, she opted to find another phone. With one last look at their foe, Cora hobbled outside. Her slippers protested. Quack…phttt! Quack…phttt!

  In spite of their dangerous situation, Emily snickered. “Oh Cora, leave it to you to bring a whoopee cushion to the party.” Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks and pointed to the only vehicle in the parking lot. “Tell me that’s not our get-away car.”

  There, in all its blazing glory, sat a fluorescent lime green car.

  Cora groaned. “How are we supposed to make an inconspicuous escape in this thing?” She plopped into the driver’s seat, fumbled with her robe, and searched for car keys in the confiscated purse. “Where are they? Oh, wait, maybe they’re in this little zippered pocket.” She pulled out a cell phone and looked at Em.

  Em squealed. She grabbed it from Cora’s hand and poked buttons with her finger. “Well, it’s dead. We’ll have to find a pay phone after all.”

  “I’m still looking for the keys.” Cora shook the bag. “I hear them jingling. Here they are.”She tossed the over-sized bag into Emily’s lap and inserted the ignition key. A heady rush coursed through her. Then, her stomach dropped as she reached for the automatic gearshift. She looked heavenward. “Oh, no. It’s a stick shift. I can’t drive this thing.”

  “Hey! Calm down,” Emily urged. “I learned to drive with a stick, surely I can remember enough to fake it to a telephone. Let’s trade places.”

  A hasty, but modest, Chinese fire drill followed.

  “Let’s see, I want reverse. Here it is. Now clutch, shift...and away we go.” A loud clunk sounded from the rear as the car jerked backwards, shuddered and died.

  Emily threw a frantic glance at the motel room. With shaky hands, she shifted back to neutral. “I can do this.” She took a deep breath and repeated the steps. Her next endeavor was as discouraging as her first, but the third attempt was successful. Em found first gear and the lime green auto finally made a jaw-rattling bunny hop out of the parking lot of Catchpenny Motel.

  Cora glanced to the rear of the car. “What’s that noise?”

  “Well, we can’t worry about it now.”

  The road sign caught Cora’s attention. “This is Old Yucca Road! I’ve seen this on the news. Oh Em, it’s a high crime area.”

  Her sister’s eyes grew large. “Lock the doors.”

  Cora’s mouth dropped at the sight of vacant buildings, painted with graffiti and gang signs. “Look how rundown this place is. I think it used to be the main drag through Saguaro Valley until the downtown stores moved to the shopping malls.”

  Emily pulled the lime green car to a halt at a bent stop sign pitted with bullet holes. “Sis, we’re on the lam. While I concentrate on keeping this bucket on t
he road, you need to be on the look-out for a payphone.”

  “Point taken.” Cora looked up and down the chipped, uneven sidewalks and spotted a payphone in her peripheral vision. “There’s one down this side road. Let’s see if we can find a secluded place to park this thing.”

  The right rear fender rattled as Emily pulled into an empty lot behind the now defunct Shady Sadie’s Pawn Shop.

  The sisters, clad in bathrobes, walked up the nearly deserted street. Quack…phttt! Quack…phttt! Cora limped as they approached the phone booth in front of E-Z Finance and Dusty’s Bar and Grill. The smell of greasy food and frying onions hung in the air.

  The phone booth door squeaked as Emily stepped inside. “I’ll call Jeff.” She frantically dug through Rita’s purse for change. “He’ll know what to do.” The bag was a conglomeration of cosmetics, medicines, and…the gun. Old, crumpled tissues cascaded to the floor as she pulled out a driver’s license. “Rita Santalis. Santalis? Isn’t that your housekeeper’s last name?”

  Cora took the card. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the ID. “I hope this is just a coincidence.”

  Emily found Rita’s coin purse, opened it and scraped together enough change for one call.

  The blaring jukebox from Dusty’s Bar and Grill grew louder. “I can’t hear a thing.” Emily kicked the trash from Rita’s purse out of the booth and closed the door. Before long, she joined her sister. “That was a waste of time. Jeff’s out looking for us. He was in such a hurry, he forgot to take his cell phone. I couldn’t find enough change to make another call, so we’ll have to venture into one of these fine establishments.”

  Cora gulped and looked at the businesses up and down the street in search of the best option. “There’s The Tat House Tattoo Parlor and an old, deserted bus station next to the Wet Your Whistle Liquor Store. Oh, Em,” her voice quivered. “I don’t want to go into any of them.”

  They decided on The Tat House, and walked around a homeless man asleep next to an old, scruffy, malnourished dog. Inside the tattoo parlor, they came face-to-face with a middle-aged Goth-chick.

  Her black, spiked hair, several tattoos and facial piercings were bad enough, but it was her feline-inspired contacts that overwhelmed Cora.

  The woman’s cat eyes were heavy with layers of black mascara and liner. “Well, well, well. Looks like you silver foxes are finally getting hip to our lifestyle.” She scooped up her tarot cards and shuffled them. “So, are you here for a tat, a pick-up, or a reading?”

  Cora grabbed Emily’s arm. A pick-up? Was this a dating service? She could only imagine what kind of specimen Catwoman would come up with. Or was she hawking pulverized bat wings and eye of newt?

  “Oh honey,” Emily said, “we’re not here for that sort of thing.”

  The woman dealt the first row of cards. “Don’t you want to know about your love life?”

  “Actually, we just came in to use the phone.”

  “Customers only. Unless you want a tat, you’ll have to go somewhere else.” She squinted her cat eyes and held up her piercing gun. “Or, I’ll do a piercing for ya. Just name the body part.”

  Emily’s eyes grew wide. “Umm, no thank you, dear. We’ll go elsewhere.” The sisters turned and scurried out the door. “Sure lights up a room, doesn’t she?”

  The Wet Your Whistle Liquor Store was next in line. They took a deep breath, and nervously crossed the threshold. Quack…phttt! Quack…phttt!

  The lady at the cash register wore a tag that proclaimed the name Rhapsody. Cora glanced around, relieved the shop had no patrons.

  The old floorboards groaned as Emily walked to the counter. “Could I make an important phone call without a purchase?”

  “Long distance?” the clerk questioned as she studied their strange attire.

  “That all depends. Is Phoenix long distance?”

  Rhapsody shook her head and pointed to the telephone on the counter.

  “Jeff wasn’t at his office, so maybe I can get June at home.”

  When June failed to answer, it was Cora’s turn to call home. The line was busy and she was near tears.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Emily exclaimed. “I left my cell phone on your kitchen counter.” She dialed the number. “It’s ringing. Hello? Who’s this? Oh, Wendell McGibbons.” She let out a sigh of relief, and her voice trembled. “You’re Dahlia’s husband. This is Emily Morgan, Cora’s sister. Cora’s here with me, I’ll let you talk to her.” She motioned for her to come closer and handed the phone to her.

  “Wendell? Wendell? This is Cora.”

  “Cora? Everybody’s lookin’ for ya!” Wendell’s voice boomed. “Where are ya?”

  “Can you put Ed on the phone?”

  “He’s bein’ innerviewed by cops,” Wendell replied. “An’ they won’t let me in the house.”

  Crestfallen, she uttered, “Oh, can you at least get a message to him some way? This is a matter of life and death.”

  “Like I said, they won’t let me in. By the way, we found Patrick.”

  “Oh good. Look, I don’t have much time to talk. We’re in real trouble and need help right away.” She covered the phone and turned to look at Rhapsody who couldn’t help but overhear. “What town is this?”

  The clerk’s face showed concern. “We’re in South Basin, the oldest part of Saguaro Valley.”

  Cora relayed the information to Wendell. “Now, you’ll need to tell the police all this, so you’d better write it down.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ll wait for you to get more paper, but hurry.” She impatiently tapped her fingers on the well-worn counter.

  Emily moaned. “It’s twenty after four, Sis.” She nervously looked out between the bold lettering on the storefront window. “The nitroglycerin pill must’ve worn off by now. Rita’s going to be hot on our trail.”

  “Hurry Wendell.” Cora glanced at her throbbing foot. “Oh, my ankle’s bleeding again.”

  Rhapsody brought her a chair and a bottle of water for each of the sisters. The clerk twisted off a cap and handed it to Cora. “You look thirsty. I’d better get the first-aid kit for that cut, too.”

  Cora smiled. “Thank you, dear.” She took a welcomed drink while Rhapsody left the room. “Wendell? What’s taking so long?”

  “All these reporters an’ I can’t find no paper. Wait a minute, there’s that wind-bellied newspaperwoman.” Wendell’s voice grew intense as he called out, “Hey there, Vi. This is important, can I use your notepaper?” His volume lowered. “Cora, ya still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. Do you have something to write on? Good. Now get this down right because I won’t be able to call you back. Rita Santalis is one of the kidnappers. Right now she’s indisposed at the Catchpenny Motel, but I don’t know how long she’ll be there.” She paused to give him time to write the information down. “Tell Ed and the police we’ve managed to escape, and to please hurry before Rita catches up with us.”

  “Right, got it. The cops are crawlin’ all over this here place. When I tell ‘em about this, we’ll all get there quicker’n a hiccup.”

  “Listen, we can’t stay here, so we’ll start for home. How do we get there from here?”

  “South Basin. Let’s see. Get on Ol’ Yucca Road an’ it’ll take ya clean to the north side of town. You’ll see signs for the Saguaro Valley complex. Just foller ‘em.” Wendell stopped to think. “Wait a minute. There’s too many news people here. Ya might get trampled. So tell ya what, we’ll meet ya at Lickety Splits Ice Cream. It’s on the way. While they go after the kidnappers, I’ll escort ya back here.”

  “Great. We’re in a lime green car, can’t miss it.” After Wendell’s confirmation, Cora hung up and turned to Rhapsody. “Would you call the police and send them to room 19 at the Catchpenny Motel? A young lady may need medical help there.”

  Emily looked out the front window and then snatched the fuchsia handbag. “Never mind, Rhapsody. There she is.”

  The supportive clerk pointed to the back door. “G
o this way and I’ll distract her.” She shoved a box into Cora’s hand. “Take this first-aid kit with you and hurry.”

  The sisters ducked out the back exit and with the clerk’s help, they successfully eluded the felonious señorita.

  ****

  Finished with the police interrogation, Ed looked out the living room window. Reality hit when he saw the sun shine on the yellow tape that kept a flock of reporters at bay. His chest stung with anguish. Their neighbor, Patrick, had been found murdered. Cora and Emily were missing.

  Where were they? Would he ever hold Cora in his arms again? Why would the Lord bring them through two years of grief and sorrow only to take her away from him? A soft prayer formed in his heart. Please, Lord, put a hedge of protection around my wife and her sister.

  Ed released a deep breath as his gaze settled on a familiar white cowboy hat as it bobbed through the crowd. Oh, no. Wendell. Just what he needed.

  The Texan stooped down to enter the cordoned off area. Then, maroon-haired Violet Ashton, with her ever-present cigarette, followed the leader.

  Wendell must’ve lured the newspaperwoman into one of his harebrained plots.

  Ed rubbed the back of his neck. The temptation of his name in print would only spur the cowboy into a gumshoe tizzy.

  Reluctantly, Ed went to the door to receive the confident couple as they approached the uniformed policeman at the door.

  The officer crossed his arms and refused to let them pass.

  Ed stayed out of Wendell’s view and strained to hear what they were up to.

  “I’m sure yer chief’s gonna want the highly confidential details in my possession. I got it straight from the horse’s mouth, that them women ain’t far from here. Now, let me speak to yer chief.” In spite of Wendell’s spiel, the policeman took another step closer, which forced them off the porch. “Well, if that ain’t a kick in the caboose.” Wendell turned to Vi. “Officer Knob Head, here, just blew it big time. Jack ain’t comin’, so I gotta do it by my lonesome.”