It was night. I sat on the sofa and listened to the These Immortal Souls record I had received through the mail that day. The bass thundered, the drums pounded, and the growl of the singer was almost like the real thing. But my mind was somewhere else tonight. Instead I thought of Pauline, wondering if I had somehow missed on something that I would never have again. It wasn’t that the world was short of women, quite the contrary, but only a few special ones were worth falling in love with. I was never quite sure if Pauline was one of those or not, but it would have been nice to find out.
I turned my mind to other things – the stacks of cash I had given to Kim Kinney after the funeral of Cleora. It felt like blood money, and though it would never atone for the death of her sister, at least she could take comfort in knowing that her financial situation was secure. It was a faint comfort but one that would grow in strength as time went on.
As for my share, I lied when I told her that it had already been deducted. The money had too many unpleasant associations – mainly the feral nature of Keith Miller and the trail of victims he had left behind. I was glad that I had killed him, knowing that the world would be a better place without his sort. Nonetheless, I felt hollow inside, like I had somehow failed. And perhaps I had by not protecting Cleora. That was one wound on my psyche that would take a long time to heal.
My cellphone, which was on the coffee table, lit up. I looked at the number and did not recognize it. I got up and went over to the stereo to turn the volume down.
“Hello?” I said into the phone.
“This is Valerie.”
“Yes?” I asked suspiciously. I was a little tired of rescuing wayward women.
“I’m downstairs. I tried ringing but there was no answer.”
“What are you doing here?”
“You said I could stop by anytime I wanted. Is that okay?”