Her pace quickened, heedless of her sore everything. And when she spotted a pair of headlights coming down the road, she thanked God.
For salvation.
And for vengeance.
Chapter Forty-two
Alice trailed Grady into the house, acting grief-stricken, and he hugged her as the door closed behind them.
“I know what you need,” he said softly. “Remember my specialty, from our Vermont trip? When you saw that deer and got all upset? I’ll make it. You haven’t eaten all day.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
“Not at all?” Grady pulled away from her, surprised. “It’ll cheer you up. Do you have the ingredients?”
“I doubt it.” Alice was playing the odds. Whatever the ingredients were, Bennie wasn’t the homemaker type. “But I should get to work, I have a new client coming in tomorrow. Rexco. It’s a big meeting and I should prepare.”
“You can’t work now, you know that.” Grady touched her cheek tenderly. “Why don’t you go up and rest? I’ll bring you dinner in bed. Is that bodega still on Spring Garden?”
God knows. “Yes.”
“I’ll go get the stuff and be right back.” Grady gave her a quick kiss, then went to the front door. “You’re going to go rest?”
“Yes. Promise.” Alice flashed him a smile, and he left.
As soon as the door closed, she dropped the smile. Something was bugging her and she felt antsy. Hinky. She should have known about the Vermont thing. She hoped Grady wasn’t getting suspicious. She fetched the messenger bag and went upstairs to the home office. She scattered the Rexco file around the desk and fired up the computer so it looked like she’d been working. Then she went to the bathroom and switched on the light, checking her reflection.
I don’t look sad, I look horny.
She wet a bar of soap, worked up a lather, and rubbed a little into her eyes. They stung like hell, and tears flowed. She rinsed and dried her face, but spilled water on her shirt by accident. She crossed to the dresser and opened the middle drawer to find something dry. She grabbed yet another oversized T-shirt. VESPER ROWING, it read, and she was slipping into it when she spotted something strange outside.
She went to the window. She didn’t have the best view, and her eyes were killing her, but it looked like Grady was on a pay phone, down the street. It was too far away to be sure it was him, but she thought it was his blond hair and he was holding a paper bag in his left hand.
Who used pay phones, except people whose cell phone batteries had run out, or who had something to hide? Or both?
She watched him hang up the phone and hurry toward the house, so it was definitely Grady. Her thoughts raced. If he had stopped at Bennie’s on impulse, he probably hadn’t told his friends or family where he was going. And if he’d asked his law partner to cover for him on a family emergency, then his office didn’t know he was at his old girlfriend’s. Odds were, no one knew Grady was here.
Perfect.
Alice grabbed a wad of Kleenex from a box on the night table and flopped face-down on the bed, burying her face in the pillow as if she’d been crying. In the next minute, she heard the front door open and close downstairs.
“Come on up!” she called out, forming a new plan. If Grady didn’t mention that he’d made a phone call, it could mean he was getting suspicious of her.
Boyfriend might have to get dead, after all.
Chapter Forty-three
Mary put the realtor’s card back down on the bedspread. Anthony hadn’t called, but she wasn’t about to stand on ceremony. Partners didn’t play power games, except when it was billable.
She speed-dialed him and listened to the phone ringing. Once, twice, three times, then his voicemail came on. The sound of his voice gave her a familiar pang, but she didn’t give in to a love attack. She thought about leaving him a call-back message, but she didn’t want to do that either. Why hadn’t he picked up? Was he blowing her off?
She put down the BlackBerry. Maybe he was in the bathroom or the shower. She got up, stretched her legs, and went to the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later, made a beeline for the BlackBerry, and speed-dialed him again. Still no answer. She could feel herself start to simmer. When the voicemail came on, she no longer felt a pang when she heard his voice.
Would it kill you to pick up?
She felt grumpier by the minute. She had a right to buy a house if she wanted one. Anthony should be willing to talk about it. Who was he to not take her phone calls? They said they loved each other, didn’t that mean anything? At the very least, it should mean I-take-your-calls-even-when-I’m-pissed-at-you.
She picked up the laptop on its pillow desk and logged on to her email, killing time before the next phone call. She’d gotten two zillion emails from clients and she kept opening them without really reading them, preoccupied. Anthony could at least pick up. His mother spoiled him. He was the darling of the family, just because he wasn’t on parole.
When she figured about fifteen minutes had passed, she called him again. No answer. She found herself boiling over, but when the beep came on, she restrained herself and hung up. She would give him one last chance. And by the way, she was sick of always being the one to make up after they fought.
She tried to return to her email, but she’d worked herself up too much. She called Anthony and listened to the phone ring again. Frustrated, she picked up the realtor’s card and called her cell, and the call was answered in the middle of the first ring.
“This is Janine Robinson.”
“Hi, it’s Mary DiNunzio, and we met today at the open house. I came with my boyfriend.”
“Yes, I remember you. How can I help you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you after hours, but I’ve been thinking about that house all day. I wanted to ask you a few questions, like how long it’s been on the market and—”
“Let me stop you right there. I already have two offers on the listing.”
Mary’s mouth dropped open. “You mean two people have already put in bids?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Does that mean I couldn’t have the house, even if I wanted it?”
“You weren’t working with anyone, correct?”
“I have no broker.” Mary could almost hear Janine running the numbers in her head, coming up with a boatload of dough.
“I can tell you, confidentially, that neither of these bids is for the asking price. You’re free to make an offer, and I can come to your house with the paperwork. Do you live in the city?”
“Yes. How much time do I have to decide?”
“I’m in the car as we speak, driving to meet with the owner. If you give me the word, I’ll stop by my office, pick up the papers to bring over to you, and take all three offers to the owner.”
“At this hour?”
“Yes. If you’re going to make an offer, it will have to be within the next half an hour. I warned you, houses like this don’t come along all the time. In fact, the best listings are going off the market. Sellers are figuring that the prices will go back up in a few years, when the economy rebounds. Are you looking for a decent house in the next three to five years?”
“Yes.” I want a baby and a house and a husband, but not in that order.
“Then you’d better act now.”
Mary swallowed hard.
Chapter Forty-four
“Help! Help!” Bennie hurried to the white pickup truck that was pulling over to the side of the road. The door on the driver’s side opened, and a man stepped out, a shadowy figure behind a tiny flashlight beam, jittery as a lightning bug.
“Somebody there?” he called out, and as he got closer, she could see that he was a small, older man in a mesh John Deere cap and a white T-shirt. She stutter-stepped to him, her knees finally buckling, and he caught her, dropping the flashlight. “Good Lord, lady! What in the hell?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so tired.” Bennie sagged against him, and he almost fell over.
<
br /> “You stink to high heaven! Is that blood? What happened here?”
“My twin buried me in a box and there was a wolf. I almost died and—”
“Buried you? With a wolf? Are you crazy, lady?” The old man struggled to support her, and Bennie tried to rally, straightening up.
“I need to get to the police and tell them about Alice.”
“Hold on now. Put an arm around me. You’re a sight! Cover yourself, I’ll get you to a hospital, sure enough.”
“No, please, let’s call the police. Do you have a cell phone?”
“Lady, I can’t hold ya. Put your arm ’round my neck. You need a doctor.” The old man took her upper arm and wrenched it around his shoulder.
“We have to call the police, do you have a cell phone?”
“My wife does. Lady, please. Walk to my truck, would ya?” The old man half-lifted and half-steered her to the pickup, and Bennie couldn’t seem to stop talking, the words spilling like a torrent.
“We can use your wife’s phone and call, then the cops will come and find Alice, she won’t get away.”
“Here we go.” The old man led her to the truck, opened the door with difficulty, then helped her inside. Her foot grazed a chainsaw that sat on the floor, filling the cab with a gasoline odor. She practically fell into the seat, and he closed the door. “Now stay here. I’m goin’ back for my flashlight.”
Bennie slumped in the filthy truck, wondering where his wife was with her cell phone. Clothes sat mounded next to old newspapers, coiled rope, empty bags of Doritos. There was a can of orange soda in the cupholder, and she upended it, but it was empty. She searched for another can, tossing aside some newspapers and receipts, but couldn’t find anything to drink.
“Got it,” the old man said, returning to the truck. He opened the door and sat inside, with a grunt.
“I’m so thirsty. There’s nothing to drink, do you have any more?”
“Drink?” The old man twisted on the ignition, setting a large key ring jangling. “Some pop in the holder.”
“It’s gone, and I’m so thirsty, I haven’t had a drink in so long.” Bennie tried to think. “What day is it? I last had a drink on Friday.”
“Oh, so that’s the deal here.” The old man chuckled, and the truck took off. “You like to drink?”
“What day is it, is it Saturday night?”
“No, it’s Sunday night. So, you need a drink? Sounds to me like you had enough. Lord, what a stink, if you don’t mind my sayin’.”
“I need a cell phone, where’s your wife?”
“At home.” The old man pointed to the pile of clothes on the seat. “I got some shirts there. You wanna put one on? Cover your unmentionables?”
“Oh, yes.” Bennie looked down, and her bra was exposed. She sorted through the clothes in the dark. “I’m just so tired, and I can’t see, where is the cell?”
“Take the blue one on the top.” The old man steered with one hand and handed her a work shirt with the other. “So you been drinkin’, that it? I didn’t see no car aroun’. Somebody drop you off ’n leave you there?”
Bennie struggled into the shirt, willing her brain to function. “I’d really love a drink.”
“Hang on.” The old man rummaged in his door pocket while the truck cruised down the dark road. “I bet you and your boyfriend were on a bender, then he dropped you off? Or are you a workin’ girl?”
“What, no, I work in Philly and I need something to drink—”
“I never met a girl like you and I never been to Philly, neither. Now calm down, I know what you need.” The old man produced a flask from inside the door, twisted off the cap, and passed it over. “Wet your whistle. Don’t think the doc will mind. You’re already lit up like the Fourth of July.”
“What is it?” Bennie asked, but it smelled like whiskey. She held the flask with difficulty but was so thirsty she took a big gulp, then coughed. The truck turned onto the highway, and by then she had taken a second swig and a third, sucking on the bottle. She knew she’d get drunk but she suddenly didn’t care. “Do you have any more?”
“You got a wooden leg, lady?” The old man chuckled. “We’re almost there. Be patient now.”
“I will, do you have any more?” Bennie felt groggy and it was hard to think. “We need to get Alice.”
But the old man just laughed and slid the flask from her bloodied hands.
Chapter Forty-five
Alice stifled a fake sob as Grady sat down beside her on the bed, leaning over.
“How you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, stroking her hair.
“Don’t look at me.” Alice peeked at him with one eye, hopefully bloodshot. “I look awful.”
“No, you don’t, you look beautiful. You are beautiful.”
“I tried to get some work done, but no dice.”
“Forget work, for now.” Grady’s hand moved down her back, and he rubbed it lightly. “I knew you were going to crash. You were holding together too well.”
“I feel silly. He was just a dog and I have so much to do.”
“Don’t feel that way.” Grady segued from rubbing her back to kneading it with strong fingers, but Alice told herself not to get turned on.
“I miss him already.”
“I know. Me, too. You’ll feel crummy for a while, there’s no avoiding it and no denying it.” Grady kept kneading her back. “My mother used to say that you have to let bad news sink into your bones. You absorb it, and all the losses and setbacks in your life become a part of who you are.”
Oh give me an effing break.
“How about I go downstairs and make us something to eat? If you’re still awake when I’m finished, it’s there for you. How’s that sound?”
“Good, great. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Grady eased off the bed, and if Alice was going to find out about his secret phone call, this was the time to see if he’d tell her or hide it.
“You were gone so long, I was a little worried. Did you have trouble finding the bodega?”
“No, it was where it always was, with the same surly guy behind the counter. I forget his name.”
Strike one for boyfriend. “It’s not the best neighborhood around that store. I thought something might have happened.”
“Nah, I’m fine.” Grady walked toward the door, his tone suspiciously casual.
Strike two. “I’m just being paranoid. I don’t want any more surprises today.”
“No way.” Grady was leaving the room, his footstep heavy on the hardwood at the threshold.
“You sure it’s okay with your office, you staying here?”
“Don’t worry so much. I’ll check on you in about half an hour. You want the light on or off?”
Strike three. “Off, please.”
“You got it.” Grady shut the light, and the bedroom went dark, leaving Alice alone with her thoughts.
So he hadn’t mentioned the phone call. The person he’d called was probably Mary. He could have followed up on her call, or worse, warned her of his suspicions. She didn’t know if he had reached her, but she couldn’t take any chances. She had her gun with her, but it would be too noisy. She was good with a knife, but he was strong. The clink of pots came from downstairs, so he had already started to cook his stupid specialty, which gave her an idea.
What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.
She got out of bed, dug underneath for her cloth bag, and got what she needed.
Chapter Forty-six
Mary hung up with the realtor, confused. It was all happening too fast. She had never Acted Now. On the contrary, she specialized in Delaying, Second-Guessing, Doubting Herself, and Stalling Whenever Possible.
She called Anthony, but the phone just rang and rang, then the voicemail clicked on again. This time she left a message: “The house that I love is available, and I have to make a decision right away. Please call me back.” She pressed END, feeling her grumpiness go into overdrive.
Still as
king permission, partner?
If he wouldn’t pick up the phone, it would serve him right if she bought the house. One fight, and he walks out of a master bedroom that wasn’t even theirs. And why do they call it a master bedroom, anyway? Why not a mistress bedroom, especially if a woman bought the house? The world was sexist, including Anthony. He couldn’t handle it when the discussion was anything but academic. The man could talk Dante, but not down payment. Well, they had come to the point of no return.
Buy the house!
She felt a stab of heartache. If she bought the house, she could lose the guy.
Don’t buy the house!
She had to make a decision, and fast.
So what’s it going to be?
She told her inner voice to shut up. It was time to stand on her own and decide. It was her money and her love life, and it would be her house.
She sat still on the bed, listened to her heart, and said a little prayer, and in the next minute, her mind cleared, and she knew what to do. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was her choice.
And because of that, she knew she could live with the consequences, come what may.
Chapter Forty-seven
Bennie heard voices around her and felt the sensation of being lifted and borne forward. She opened her eyes, and a nurse in blue scrubs was rolling her into an examining room with medical equipment. They stopped when another nurse in pink scrubs appeared, and Bennie tried to stay awake, but couldn’t. She wanted to call the police and go find Alice, but she could barely stay awake long enough to listen to what they were saying.
“What do we have here?” one nurse was asking the other.
“A Jane Doe. Not an emergency. A farmer found her in a field, drunk. BP and other signs are normal. I started the drip and tried to get her to talk to me, but she kept passing out. Vomited on herself. God, she stinks, doesn’t she?”