Dead End (11 page)

Pushing with both fists, she really struggled to get away from him. If he let her go he was sure she’d fly out of the house and he’d be chasing her until she got too tired to run anymore. “Settle down, Reb. Let’s get some tea.”

“I don’t want any
tea.
Okay, this is the way it is. The killings you mentioned yesterday, the ones that happened a couple of years back. I got involved—professionally—because I was the first doctor on each scene. Afterward I was threatened. If I didn’t say certain things—tell lies—I’d die too. Then it was all over, just like that.” She passed a hand across her mouth. “A man was arrested and convicted of attacking another woman. He wasn’t found guilty of the murders, but everyone around here believes he did them. I didn’t get any more warnings after that, so I thought it had gone away.”

“Shh,” Marc said. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. You’re overworked is all, and dealing with what happened in that belfry shook you up. I’m not going to make things hard for you, cher. Simple questions are all I’ve got. This other thing you’re talkin’ about is in the past. Forget it.”

“It’s
not
in the past. It’s come back. And dealing with Bonnie made me sad, not shaken up.” She was dry-eyed again, but colorless.

“You think you—”

“I don’t think, I know. You don’t. It’s started again. They’re after me. I’m being followed, and this afternoon they showed how easy it’ll be to get at me…when I’m alone.”

She closed her eyes, and terror passed over her face like pain. “It’s just been little things I noticed that made me suspect I was being watched. I hoped I was wrong. Now I know I wasn’t.”

Mark laced his fingers around her neck and supported her head. And when her eyes started to open again, he kissed her.

No way was the bitch he’d married going to hold him up and squeeze him dry. No sir. Chauncey Depew checked himself over in the bathroom mirror and slicked his hair back one more time.

She’d put him off for days, since the deputy pulled him in, but tonight was showdown time. He’d remind Precious that regardless of what she thought she could hold over his head, he was bigger, stronger, and smarter than she was.

“Down, Big Boy,” he muttered, smiling at himself. The thought of teaching Precious a lesson had brought the big boy to attention.

He heard the bedroom door close and turned so he could see his dear wife in the mirror, but she wouldn’t see him until she got a lot closer. She walked in, pausing between steps to kick off the fuck-me heels she favored. If she knew he was watching her, she’d probably keep the shoes on because she liked what they did for her legs.

At her dressing table, she took a brush, and hung her head upside down while she worked on her black hair till it was straight and gleaming. When she threw it back, her face was flushed. She unbuttoned her blouse and took it off, then untied a wraparound skirt that would make a better belt. Music burst from the CD player she kept on the dressing table, and she hummed and wiggled to the beat.

Her black bra fastened between her breasts. She unhooked the clip and let the thing hang from her shoulders while she kept on dancing. She played with her nipples, watched her tweaking fingers with her tongue between her teeth.

Chauncey pressed a hand over his zipper. His dick pressed back.

She stripped without missing a beat. That’s when she fluttered the fingers of one hand at him and he realized she’d known he was watching. A show for him? How sweet. Too bad she’d used her naked body to punish him for so long, and too bad he hadn’t figured out a way to make her pay for the torture without jeopardizing the nice little fortune she represented.

He moved around the door and leaned on the jamb. He didn’t wave. From what he could tell, not a soul but himself and Precious knew that her mother didn’t live on social security and the droppings from whatever she did at St. Cecil’s. She liked fooling people. Oribel Scully was no fool herself. She’d inherited, and made the right moves to turn what she got into major money. He got regular updates on how much she was worth. It was all going to Precious, and the two women made sure Chauncey didn’t forget it. Let them enjoy the power. Once Oribel was gone, Precious—who didn’t believe in divorce—would add her windfall to the nice heap he’d built. And she wouldn’t have her devil mother to tell her how to handle her husband.

“You’re lookin’ lovely, you,” he told Precious. Why not try some sweet talk first. It had been a long time since he’d offered her much more than silence—which she seemed to enjoy well enough.

Precious put one hand flat on her belly and rolled her hips.

“Oh, baby”—he spoke low, the way that made most women feel like warm taffy—“I do believe you’re a natural belly dancer. Let’s us get you some of those scarves and pants what you can see through. Some strings of coins to jingle. I’ll help with the lessons, me. Hell, I’ll give you the lessons. I don’t forget how much you like my hip action.”

She kept on dancing. Mrs. Depew didn’t need any bra. “I wouldn’t want you coverin’ up those boobs—not even with somethin’ I could see through.” The nipples turned up. Nothing moved much since the operation, but he did love the way those things felt. “With what they cost—although I always told you that you didn’t need a thing extra to turn me on—but for what we paid, you gotta make sure they’re appreciated.”

“Oh, sugar,” she said. “They’re appreciated.”

She lived to rile him. Chauncey pulled his T-shirt over his head and made sure his hair still looked good.

“Why did you take that off,” Precious said, and stood still with her hands on her hips.

“Too hot,” he told her, and winked. “In more ways than one.”

“At your age you look better with the shirt on,” she said, staring pointedly at his stomach.

She never missed a chance to remind him about the sixteen years that separated them.

“That so?” he said. “Maybe the same goes for you, but you parade around in front of me like that every chance you get. And we both know why you do it, don’t we?”

“Do we?” she said.

He wouldn’t make her day by pleading even one more time for her to stop punishing him for what she considered his sins. If he wanted to, he could force himself on her, but he was too smart for her, he knew that was what she wanted—one more story to add to her list of imaginary grievances. Well, mostly imaginary. Women were like that, they exaggerated. “Hell, you ain’t given me none in two months and you want to make sure I know what I’m missin’. Well I do, but you gotta make up your own mind ‘bout things like that. I love you and I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

She rolled her eyes and strolled from the room. Chauncey followed her downstairs and into the kitchen, where she poured herself a tall gin and tonic. Rolling the glass against her brow, she trailed into the all white living room. He closed the white shutters over the windows while Precious arranged herself on a shiny damask couch. White was, she liked to say, her color because it showed off her tawny skin and dark hair.

That was
it.
Now she’d learn he wasn’t taking any more shit from her. “What you doin’ talkin’ to Devol? I think you interferin’ in my business. That never was part of the deal and never will be. Get out of my way, woman, and stay out. And I better never find out you’ve got friendly enough with that big, brainless nothing to say things that would take us both down. You never trust the law, Precious baby. Even when they admirin’ you assets and tellin’ you they on your side.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Deputy Spike’s a friend of mine. If you’ve got a problem with that you’ll have to live with it. You aren’t in a position to point any fingers.”

He laughed but his throat was dry. “What you been sayin’ to him?”

Her light brown eyes were so innocent he almost believed them. “I’m not sayin’ anything you need to worry about, Chauncey. A girl has to find company where she can. Be grateful I’ve chosen an upright citizen as a friend. At least he respects me and doesn’t try to get inside my pants.”

“What would you do if he tried?”

She giggled and raised her shoulders. “Why, I’d give ‘em to him, sugar, and tell him to put ‘em on. But it’s nothing like that. Honest. All we do is talk.”

Sweat on his back turned cold, and his skin crawled. Somewhere in the room a horsefly buzzed loud enough to drive a man mad, but Chauncey couldn’t see the critter. “Why’d you tell Devol I was havin’ you followed?”

“You are.” A long, long swallow of gin moved her throat. “And you’re scarin’ me, so I had to say somethin’ to buy a little insurance. Life insurance.”

“Damn you.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You know I wouldn’t do nothin’ to you. I love you. You ain’t put out diddly for me in weeks, but have I touched you?”

“You know better.” With one knee drawn up, she rested the opposite ankle there and turned her foot in circles. “I told you a long time ago that if you cheated on me again, you was never gettin’ inside this body again. And you went right ahead and did it anyway. You went back to sleeping around because you can’t help yourself, Chauncey Depew. You’re like a cock in the henhouse. How is Big Boy these days, anyway?”

Every way she could think of turning him on more, she did it. Right now it was with crude talk and a view of those heavenly gates. “This big boy’s more than ready to go whenever you say the word,” he told her. “Always has been, remember? I wouldn’t try to make you, Precious. But you sure are makin’ it hard on a man.”

“You’ve got that nasty man from New Orleans creepin’ around after me. Then you have him in this house watchin’ those movies I don’t like as if there wasn’t a thing goin’ on with the two of you. He’s someone bad, isn’t he? He never speaks to me, just watches me. If he really is your friend you ought to tell him how you feel about him lookin’ down my blouse every chance he gets. And he shows up everywhere, followin’ me, and either he wants me to know he’s there or he’s real bad at his job.”

Chauncey sat down where he had a good view of her and spread his legs, not that he could do much to make himself comfortable. “I’ll speak to him.”

“You’re scared,” Precious said. “You could have plenty to be scared about if you push me too far. And in case you got ideas about having Dante deal with that, don’t, because I’ve taken precautions. There’s letters in several safe places to be opened when I die.”

“Damn you, woman.” Fear shortened his breath. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ to you. I told you that over and over. Why you punishing me?”

“I knew you sniffed around that woman again. There’s others got to know if they think about it hard enough. Someone must have seen you watchin’ her, followin’ her around. They just got to have their memories jogged. It’s the little things that give you away.”

His eyes stung. “When you mess with me, you do something dangerous, sugar,” he told her, deliberately whispering because she hated it. “Take yourself out of what I’m doin’ and you won’t have a thing to worry about.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Allow me to decide what’s best for both of us, and
stay
away from Devol’s office.”

Precious turned on her side and balanced the glass on a hip. “No one’s linking you to that woman’s death—yet. They think the Rubber Killer’s back. They think what happened to May Lynn didn’t have anything to do with the other things. May Lynn never was too strong in the thinkin’ department anyway. Also, from the evidence at the time, whoever killed those two women covered his face, and May Lynn insisted she saw Leach’s face. I think the gossip is right. There was two different men. One was a murderer—a psycho—and the other was Leach, who didn’t want nothin’ but May Lynn’s body. The guy’s sexy. Lookin’ the way she does, I think she should have grabbed a rare opportunity and enjoyed herself.”

Chauncey didn’t care about May Lynn. He turned cold. “What you sayin’? Why they thinkin’ about any killer? She wasn’t murdered, that Bonnie Blue.”

“How do you know that?”

“The docs said so,” he told her. He really started to sweat. “She fell and broke herself up.” He swallowed and said, “And she wasn’t raped like those others. You gotta give me what I want, Precious. You never should have taken what was mine in the first place.”

Chauncy wouldn’t be on the receiving end of any favors, not if she could help it. “We’re getting to that,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “How do you know the law isn’t doin’ what it does a lot these days: not makin’ the real evidence public. They like to make sure no one gets too much information and figures out a way to muddy things up while the cops are still workin’. For all you know, she could have been murdered.”

He got up and stood beside her. From her position she’d get a real good idea of what little chance she’d have if he did turn on her. “What happened at St. Cecil’s wasn’t nothin’ to do with me. Why you makin’ all these suggestions?”

“I’m not suggestin’ a thing, just having a discussion.”

The temptation to take her by the throat was dangerous. Violence wasn’t his thing, but any man could be pushed. “Drop it. Where is the place—your place you’re keepin’ so damn secret?”

“I said I’m gettin’ to that. In a way. Every woman ought to have somewhere she can call her own. Makes her feel like her own person. I like that. But I’m not givin’ a thing away that I don’t want to give away—and until I decide I’m feelin’ like sharin’. So call off your little snoop because there isn’t any way he’s going to catch me with my guard down. I won’t lead him anywhere that interests you, Chauncey. And in case you haven’t figured it out. That boy’s got fuckin’ on his mind. He watches those movies and gets all worked up, then he looks at me and he doesn’t have to say what he wants.”

“Give it up.” She had to. He couldn’t live under this much stress. It bothered his stomach.

“You know Marc Girard’s here?”

“Who...Girard? No, I fuckin’ didn’t know.”

“You do now. He’s lookin’ for his sister. Yeah, he loves his sister Amy and intends to make sure she gets treated with respect.”

“What you do with them little pills for my stomach?”

“Your pills, for your stomach? Why, I wouldn’t know, but I guess they’re wherever you put them.”