Runaway Mistress (11 page)

“I’ll sweep the sidewalk before I leave. Okay, boss?”

He leaned on the counter. “You’re a good girl, Doris, even if you do your hair funny.”

“Thanks, boss,” she laughed.

The sidewalk didn’t need sweeping so much as Jennifer liked to do it. The streets in the afternoon were quiet—very few cars and not many people about. When she got outside she thought about how peaceful this town was, how good life in general seemed to be here. Then she noticed a black sedan with darkened windows parked down the street. Something about it gave her pause.

Then she saw them—a couple of men going in and out of the little shops across from the park. One of them was Lou, she didn’t know the other. The one she didn’t know seemed to be holding a sheaf of papers. He could be a new “butler,” or maybe a police officer? She settled on the new goon—he was about as large as Lou. She hoped he was about as smart.

But there was no question in her mind—they were looking for her.

She felt light-headed. A little dizzy. They walked into the next shop and Jennifer got a grip. Sweep, she told herself. Nick might be in the car. Just sweep and try to act natural. But her mind was racing. Should I run? Had the message to the police through the Internet been traced to Boulder City? If it had, her first contact would come from the police, not these goons, right? Unless the police called Nick and said there’d been a message and then—She stopped herself. She was over-thinking it; she had no way of knowing what had transpired behind the scenes, if anything. Sweep. Just sweep. Look down at the sidewalk as though those two lunkheads don’t interest you.

Momentarily they came out of the shop and stood talking on the sidewalk. They stopped a man as he passed by and showed him the paper. Ah, she thought. They’re showing a picture around town. The man shook his head and kept walking. As he got closer, Jennifer glanced up from beneath lowered eyes and recognized him as someone who came into the diner regularly. And he didn’t recognize her from the picture!

This is the moment of truth, she thought. Let them come. Look right at them. Don’t blink. And don’t
smile!
Look at the picture. If they don’t recognize me now and if no one else in town says they’ve seen the blond woman in the picture, maybe they’ll go away and not come back.

Unless Nick was in the car. If Nick saw her, she’d be found out. He wouldn’t be fooled so easily.

She swept. It seemed to take years for them to make their way to the Tin Can. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She forced herself to remember her long blond hair was gone, her eyes were a different color, her lips were thinner, her eyebrows thicker. Her face had been transformed. Plus, these idiots were probably looking for a blonde in a short skirt and four-inch heels. Sweep and don’t think too much.

“’Scuse me,” the man said. She looked up. Lou stood back about ten feet, cleaning under his fingernails with a penknife, waiting. She was really short in her flat shoes. Every time she’d been shopping, with Lou carrying her packages, or at the airport, with Lou carrying bags, she’d been considerably taller.

“Yeah?” she said, chewing a nonexistent piece of gum.

“Any chance you’ve seen this woman around here?”

“No. Why? You lose her?”

“Somethin’ like that. You’re sure?”

“Buddy, someone like that would stand out. Don’t cha think?”

“Yeah. Don’t know what she’d be doing around here, anyway.” He looked around and, if Jennifer wasn’t mistaken, sniffed the air derisively. “This place doesn’t have enough action for our girl.”

“That a flyer?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Gimme a bunch. I’ll put ’em up for ya.”

“Hey, thanks. Hey, Lou, you want a cup of coffee or something?”

He looked right at Jennifer. Not the slightest question or recognition registered on his face.

“Naw, I’d rather get back. You done here?”

“Yeah. Enough is enough.”

They went back to the car and drove slowly down the street. When they were gone, when the sedan had turned the corner and was out of sight, Jennifer started to tremble. She leaned the broom against the diner window and made fast tracks to the bathroom, holding the flyers against her stomach as she went, slamming and locking the door. She tried to slow her breathing, but she was panting.

She had been missing for six weeks. Nick had either returned to Las Vegas sooner than his usual three months, or sent his boys. In either case, she was obviously still a hot item. That Nick hadn’t just left this to the police indicated his determination to find her. He must be certain she could do him harm.

She looked in the mirror. She held the picture on the flyers up next to her face. She smiled at herself. Ew, Louise was right—she could hide with this face, so different from before, as long as she didn’t smile. But the way her lips parted in a smile was identical to the picture, except that now her lips weren’t quite as full. It didn’t show in the picture, but her bottom teeth were just a little crooked. But the shape of her smile…

You might know.

Her cheeks were flushed. She splashed them with cold water. There was a
tap-tap-tap
at the door and Hedda asked, “You okay in there, Doris?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said. “Give me a minute, okay?”

“Take your time. Buzz just wanted me to check on you.”

She felt weak. She needed to go home. It was almost quitting time, anyway.

She opened her pants and untucked her shirt. She put the flyers against her belly and tucked in her shirt and cinched her belt. She bloused her shirt loosely and left the bathroom.

Her eyes glassy and her cheeks pink, she approached Buzz. He took one look at her and said, “Oh-oh. That hit you kind of sudden.”

“I’ll be all right. But I think I better head out, if that’s okay with you.”

“You bet. I’ll call and check on you later.”

“No,” she said, a hand on her stomach. “In case I lie down for a while. All right?”

“Sure, Doris. Gosh, I hope it wasn’t…” He turned suddenly and spoke over the counter to the grill. “Adolfo? Check the expiration date on the eggs.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said weakly.

“You want a lift?” he asked as she was heading out the door.

She just shook her head without turning around and lifted her hand to wave goodbye.

The way she held the flyers against her waist might look as if she had a precarious control on nausea, but she was only trying to keep them from slipping down the baggy leg of her trousers.

She took a deep breath, the cleansing breath of a bright, crisp, fragrant spring. It was so clean in Boulder City. So quiet she could hear the birds sing. And twenty-five miles away was the glittering gem of Las Vegas, where, very possibly, Nick Noble played poker while his thugs combed the outlying towns for Jennifer.

But they hadn’t found her! They would go back to the city and tell Nick about the little town they had visited, about how the fanciest restaurant in town was just a café. Well, that wasn’t entirely true—there were some ritzy places associated with country clubs, but they were membership-only clubs and Jennifer hadn’t been anywhere near them. If Nick’s boys had gone to those places, no one would have reported seeing her. If Nick was going to send his boys to all the little towns in Nevada looking for her, they’d be very busy. And they had
already been
to Boulder City!

There was absolutely nothing to link her to this place. Nothing! They had asked around about her and no one had seen her. They had looked right at her face and not known her. They had no reason to come back.

By the time she got home she was smiling. Her cheeks were still a bit flushed, but now it was from relief. Happiness. Alice lay on the cold stone hearth, her favorite spot. Jennifer rushed to her, fell to her knees and took her big Lab head in her hands and kissed the top. “Al, baby, I did it! They looked right at me, didn’t know me, and
left!
” Alice’s tail thumped on the floor twice. “I think we’re going to be okay!”

Jennifer turned on the old radio. Frank Sinatra sang out of the box as usual. She turned up the volume and started dancing around the living room. She let her pants drop and kicked them aside. Flyers fell to the floor and she gave a loud whoop of laughter, giving the pages a kick. Next went the shirt, which she twirled over her head before letting it fly, stripper fashion. In bra and panties she danced and sang, “I’ve got the world on a string, I’m sitting on a rainbow…Got the string around my finger…”

Alice sat up and watched this crazy display, cocking her head right, then left. Jennifer did a little cha-cha, a little twisting, a little Charleston and knee-slapping. She twirled around in a couple of circles, coming to stop as she faced the doors to the screened porch where, just on the other side of the screen with a hedge clipper in his hand, stood a man, looking in at her, mesmerized by her underwear dance.
Alex.

She screamed, tried to cover herself and ran to the bedroom.

Poor Alice didn’t get her walk. Once Alex was gone, she had to make do with the backyard. And Jennifer didn’t get her walk, either, because she was just too mortified to show her face outside of the house. She opted for an amazingly long soak in the tub with extra-high bubbles. Still, she could not wash away the stunned look on Alex’s face every time she closed her eyes.

Well, it was slightly better than what she’d gotten from him in the diner the past few weeks. If he looked at her at all, his expression seemed disapproving.

When Louise said Alex looked after the yard, it never occurred to Jennifer that he’d be lurking back there while she wasn’t home. She hadn’t thought about it much, but she would have expected him to knock on the door and say, “I’ll be doing a little clipping and trimming in the yard now.”

He wasn’t much older than her—a few years. Passable in the looks department. Maybe a little more than passable. And she’d only seen him in a polo shirt or sweatshirt in the diner. The shoulders and chest that strained against the fitted T-shirt were muscled. All that yard work…

After her bath, she lay on the bed in the darkened bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Great way to not draw attention to yourself.

The doorbell rang and she sat up with a start. She turned to look at the clock. Five-thirty. She could see that the sun was making its downward slant into evening. The doorbell rang again, insistent. Oh, God, she thought, if he’s coming to apologize or laugh at me I’ll kill myself.

She rummaged around in Louise’s closet for something to cover herself with. Louise had moved almost all her clothes to the second bedroom to give Jennifer plenty of room for her scant belongings, but she’d left behind a few blouses, jackets and a wonderful old chenille robe. She slipped into it and realized it smelled like her. Talc and violets and soap. She went to the living room where Alice was already at the door, her nose right in the crack where it opened, her tail swishing back and forth.

“Who is it?” she asked the door.

“It’s Rose.”

“Oh. Um. It’s not a really good time, Rose.”

“Oh, phoo. Be a good sport, Doris. What could you possibly be doing? Not fixing your hair…”

Jennifer made a face. Grain of salt, she remembered. “Well, just a minute, then.”

“Hurry up. I have my hands full.”

Jennifer looked around the little living room and porch. Tidy. The flyers were in the trash can under the sink. On the off chance Rose made herself that familiar with the house and saw them, she plucked them out and stashed them in the bedroom, under the pillow. Then back to the front door, where she asked, “Are you alone?”

“Well, of course. Who in the world would I bring with me?” Jennifer cracked the door and there stood Rose in all her splendor. She wore turquoise capri pants and a blouse that looked more like several flowing, multicolored silk scarves than a shirt. Heeled sandals adorned her long, slim feet. Then there was jewelry…plenty of it. And in her hands, a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, two wineglasses and a plate of canapes. “Louise asked me to look in on you from time to time. I thought it was high time we got to know each other. We can toast your summer with Alice.” She bent at the waist and got nose to nose with the dog. “Hello, dear.” She came inside, gently pushing Jennifer out of the way.

Rose seemed to fill the small room with her beauty, her erect posture, her sheer flamboyance. She placed the tray of canapes on the coffee table that sat between the sofa and two overstuffed chairs and went about the business of opening the wine. Jennifer took note of her graceful fingers, manicured nails in a color that not only matched her toes and lips, but her blouse as well, a cheery mauve that blended perfectly and somehow did not do battle with her red hair.

“Did you notice that Louise has no wineglasses here? She broke the last one about the time the doctor suggested that alcohol and arthritis medicine probably didn’t mix. After that it was only the rare drink for her, and if I didn’t bring the glasses we had to drink out of jam jars.” She twisted and twisted and popped. “Ah,” she said, pouring. She handed a glass to Jennifer and then, pausing to sniff the air, said, “Oh—someone’s been primping.”

“Louise left me a basket of bubble bath and smelly soap. And lotion and things. It was very sweet.”

Rose wrinkled her brow. “I admit I’ve only seen you at the diner, but I didn’t think you were the bubble bath type. I guess I was wrong. Well,” she said, lifting the glass toward Jennifer. “To a pleasant summer in a small town.”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

Then Rose draped herself gracefully on the couch, more reclining than sitting. What had Louise said? That Rose was seventy? She didn’t look it. Or perhaps it was that she looked as if she
could
be seventy, but she was such an excellent seventy it was hard to believe—her skin was luscious. She’d probably had a little work done. And another thing, she was incredibly fashionable, from her clothes and hair to her makeup, which was flawless. Many women had the awful tendency not to change their hairstyle after the age of forty, which resulted in all these seventy-year-old women wearing thirty-year-old hairstyles. Their makeup was usually the same stuff that worked for them when they were in their thirties and forties. And with failing eyesight, the lining of lips and eyelids tended to be a tad sloppy, not to mention what happened to the rouge on cheeks.