Dead In The Water (Rebecca Schwartz Mystery #4) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series) (23 page)

From my toes to my scalp, fury rose, a palpable current, and I felt my focus come back, white-hot, single-minded. All right. It was up to me to get Libby out of this. I would.

“Tie her wrists behind her back.”

I didn’t have the heart to cut off her circulation. Even so, I tied the cord so tight I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out when I pulled it.

“Let me see,” said Warren.

“Get up, sweetheart, and turn around.”

She stood, turned, and quickly sat down again.

Warren moved forward very slowly. He whapped not me but Libby this time, very deliberately and not very hard, just a little slap that made a nasty pop. The nausea started, but this time I swallowed it. I couldn’t afford to lose control again.

“Tighter.”

I tied her wrists tighter, now biting the insides of my cheeks to keep from screaming and flying at him. She was whimpering steadily.

“Tie her feet with the other one.”

I couldn’t bear to lay her down like a roped calf. I let her sit, and sat on the floor to tie her ankles.

“My dad’s expecting me,” she said. “I have to call my dad.”

Damn! If she was missed, we might have a chance.

But Warren only smiled. He’d already thought it out. “No, you don’t. Rebecca will do that. You know Don, don’t you, Rebecca?”

I nodded, not sure where this was leading.

As if the mention of it had brought it to life, the phone rang, making me jump.

“Nervous, Rebecca?”

“A little.”

“Answer it and act normal. Find out who it is and say you’ll call right back. Then hang up and report to me. Got it?”

I nodded.

“You better do this right.” He moved to the bed and trained the spear gun on Libby.

I lifted the phone. “Rebecca, are you all right?” It was Julio.

“Fine, Julio.” My voice was as bright and cheery as if I were at a party. Damn the acting lessons! “Listen, I just stepped out of the shower. Can I call you right back?”

“Sure.”

I hung up.

Warren said, “Julio,” a fresh smile playing at the comers of his mouth. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“Of course not. We’re just friends.” I glanced at Libby. It was crazy, but I was upset that he’d used the F-word in her hearing.

“Friends.” He leered.

“Warren, I have to tell you I’m really offended by your language.”

He put the spear gun in his lap and roared. Maybe I could get it… .

But I couldn’t—he kept a tight grip even as he laughed his nerdy head off. “Offended by my language!”

When the joke wore thin, he turned serious, nasty. “Call him back, Rebecca. Make a date with him. For now.”

“Julio?”

“Julio?” He mimicked me. “Of course Julio. And quit playing dumb.”

I reached for the phone book, but Libby reeled off the number. As I dialed, Warren said, “One more thing: Tell him to order a pizza, but leave it there. If he wants you to meet him anywhere, say your car’s broken. He’s got to come here. Got that?”

I nodded.

“Oh, yeah, and one other thing. Call Don first.”

“Shall I say she’ll be a little late?”

“Say you and Julio are taking his kid on an overnight camping trip. And Libby wants to go.”

Don answered on the first ring, even his “hello” sounding nervous. She was late. He was waiting by the phone. He wanted her home, argued with me. I finally had to tell him we’d already gone, I was calling from Big Sur. Hearing me, Libby started to cry.

Seeing her convulsed, sobbing her heart out, I made on-the-spot plans to kill Warren, and I believe I could have done it, but he grabbed my free hand and twisted it behind me as soon as I’d set the receiver down.

He tossed me aside, into a chair. For a moment he seemed at a loss. He surveyed the room while I breathed heavily. Libby continued to sob.

“Find a sock,” he said. “And gag her.”

I found the sock and sat on the edge of the bed, but I could go no further. “I can’t do it.”

He touched the spear to Libby’s eye. “You’d rather she go blind?”

God, it was horrible. When I was a kid, I held my dog while the vet put him to sleep, and it wasn’t as bad as stuffing the sock. Not by a long shot.

“Okay. Call Julio now.”

I was shaking, didn’t think I could do it. But I did, palms sweaty, voice steady—a regular Sarah Bernhardt.

“Pizza?” he said when I got to that part. As I hung up, I heard him say again, “Pizza?”

Maybe the pizza would make him suspicious. More likely he’d just think I’d forgotten we didn’t eat pizza together.

With the cord from a lamp, Warren tied my ankles together, cutting off the circulation. I had no idea why he didn’t tie my hands. He experimented until he had the tableau he wanted for Julio. Me sitting on the bed in view of the door; he and Libby in chairs just out of sight, the chairs touching, the spear gun at Libby’s heart. When twenty minutes had passed, he unlocked the door.

I tried to think.

Warren sweated and delivered a monologue about how hungry he was. He rifled my luggage and purse for food, finally coming up with menthol-eucalyptus cough drops, not a wimpy snack. He chewed loudly. I thought I saw him pocket something from my makeup kit, but I couldn’t see what.

It was another twenty minutes before Julio arrived.

“Come in,” I called, following orders. I had my legs curled behind me, hiding my bound ankles. I stretched out an inviting arm, once again as ordered.

Maybe I’m beautiful when I’m terrified. Or maybe the pose really was as sexy as Warren apparently thought it was. Without a word, Julio strode over, gathered me up, and began kissing me as if there were no tomorrow. Which I was beginning to think there might not be.

I didn’t respond, which should have been some sort of clue, but the scene on the beach must have left him frustrated. He didn’t stop until Warren said, “Hello, Julio.”

He dropped me, spinning toward the voice.

Warren was not only smiling, but looking like a man who’s just finished dinner at some place like Stars or Oliveto and can still taste chocolate and cognac. “Sit down or I’ll kill her. ” He nodded at Libby.

He turned back to me. I had to look at the second face that day that said I’d betrayed it. I uncurled my legs to show my feet, now swollen from their bonds.

“What the hell is going on?”

Warren tossed me another lamp cord. “Rebecca, tie his hands.” And then I knew why he hadn’t tied my wrists.

When I was done, Warren asked me to come to him. I had to drop off the bed and slither like a snake. When I arrived, he made me turn around, facing Julio. He wrapped his legs around my body, holding me down, digging his heels into my abdomen, and holding me by the hair. This time, for Julio’s benefit, he brought out a new weapon—my nail scissors, taken from my makeup bag.

“Later tonight I’m going to be asking you to do something for me,” he said. “And while you’re doing it, I’m going to keep Rebecca and Libby with me. I’m showing you these so that you’ll understand what we’ll be doing while you’re busy.” He took the scissors and started to jab them into my eye. Julio lunged. “Don’t do that.” Warren raked my face. I felt the sting and the wet of the scratch. Involuntarily I made a little sound. “Ohh. Just like Libby. I guess we’ll have to stuff you, too. Bring me a sock.”

I slithered till I found one, brought it back, and let him stuff my mouth. Julio’s rage filled the room, thick as motor oil. I could feel it, erratic and dangerous, building steam.

“Now back to business, Rebecca, dear. Close your eyes.”

Julio tensed. It was as if someone had played a high-frequency note that wouldn’t stop.

“I’m going to give you an eyelash trim.”

From my end, it wasn’t so bad. Not being able to see the scissors, I hadn’t a sense of sharp-pointed things close to my face. In fact, it was kind of a relief to be able to tune Warren out for a few minutes. But from Libby’s whimpering and Julio’s heavy breathing, I guess watching was a little nervous-making.

“Open your eyes now.” I obeyed. “You’re ugly, Rebecca. That really made you ugly.”

I nodded in a way that I hoped he’d find properly submissive. Who cared if I was ugly?

To Julio he said, “You know, I really enjoyed that.”

“You’re sick.”

“Yes. Before we leave here, I want to make sure you know who you’re dealing with. I have killed two people and I enjoyed it. I will kill more if I need to. I just want you to know that. We’re leaving now. Rebecca will drive. You will ride in the front seat with her. I will ride in the back with Libby. It would give me the greatest pleasure to shoot this child through the heart and watch her die.”

My ears rang. Dear God, he couldn’t be saying that.

“If I see that you have jeopardized my chances, I have nothing to lose by killing her—and I will have the pleasure of claiming a third victim. Is that clear?”

Julio said, “Warren, you don’t sound like yourself.”

I didn’t know him well, but that was my impression, too. He sounded pompous and professorial. I didn’t realize he had such presence, could be so sure of himself.

Warren said, “I’m not myself, Julio. I have come into my own.”

“Where are we going?”

“Your house, of course. But one question. Where is Esperanza?”

“At Amber’s. Sleeping over.”

She was safe. It was something to hang on to.

Warren ungagged me, untied my ankles, and let me rub them awhile before attempting to drive. They hurt a lot. While I recovered, he ripped out the phone.

“Rebecca, pick Libby up. We’re going in your car.”

“I need my keys.”

He searched my purse, tossed it over.

He made Julio walk ahead and get in the shotgun seat. Then he got in the back with Libby, holding the spear gun on her, as I walked around to my side, and started the car.

When we arrived, he made me tie Julio’s ankles, and then he tied me, wrists and ankles. He sat us on Julio’s pathetic couch, and then, taking Libby and the spear gun for insurance, went on a tour of the house. He came back pointing a revolver.

“Shit!” said Julio. “My mama told me not to buy that thing.”

“Cut the conversation. Where’s the pizza?”

“Pizza?” said Julio. “I thought that was a joke. Rebecca and I—”

“You didn’t get the pizza?”

“No.”

“You idiot!” He slapped Julio’s face with the pistol. Libby made an animal sound. “I was going to ungag her,” he said. “But you can forget that now.”

Warren went into the kitchen.

“Warren! I could make you something.”

He came back with chips and salsa, stuffing them into his mouth mechanically. “You can cook, Rebecca?”

“Some things.” The salsa gave me an idea. “How about
huevos rancheros
!
''

“So you can cook, can you? Very interesting.”

“Shall I make you something fabulous?”

He looked at his watch. “Oh, by all means. But not yet. We have to go out again—as soon as the party’s over.”

That had a nasty sound to it. “What party?” I asked.

“The one at the aquarium. What do you think this charade’s about?”

For a long time he didn’t say another word—just stared into space. That was okay. He wasn’t torturing Libby.

But after a while, she began making urgent noises in her throat.

“What does she want?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

He pulled the gag out. For a moment Libby didn’t speak, seemed to be adjusting to the feeling of having her mouth to herself. Warren said, “What is it, kid?”

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Wee-wee in your pants.”

I had a weird sense of deja vu. There was something familiar, but I couldn’t think what.

I said, “I have to go, too. Shall I wee-wee in
my
pants?” I was being deliberately crude, hoping to gross him out.

He grimaced. “All right, all right, you can both go. You, too, Julio?”

Julio shook his head.

He left Julio where he was, untied my feet and Libby’s. At the bathroom door, he untied Libby’s hands and told her to go while we watched, the gun trained on my ear.

Cheeks flaming, she turned slightly away so at least he couldn’t see her face. When it was my turn, I took a different approach. I stared at him as I unzipped, not sexual, just boldly immodest. Then I dropped my drawers and pretended to examine them.

I cried out in high alarm, “Oh, yuck, I’ve got my period! Jesus, what a mess.”

The man who could stick a letter opener in another person’s eye and apparently not bat his own practically turned pea-green before my eyes.

“I’ve got to get a Tampax.”

“Shut up and pee.”

“Warren. I’m not kidding. I’ve really got to. It’s going to be all over my jeans, on Julio’s couch. …” I held up a piece of toilet paper, thinking chances were good he’d never find out there was nothing more revolting on it than a saccharine flower design. “Look at that.”

I was right. He averted his eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“I’ve got spares in my purse.”

“Go get them.”

I got up and started to waddle, jeans around my ankles. “Pull up your pants, goddammit!”

I complied, virtually hearing the creak of wheels as he tried to figure a way to avoid witnessing unimaginable grossness, yet keep me in sight. I made a big show of tearing off a wad of toilet paper and stuffing it in my panties to catch the overflow.

Warren brought Libby with us to find my purse, keeping her covered while I rummaged for the Tampax. While my hands were out of sight in the purse, I took three of Mickey’s Seconal capsules—all I had left—out of my plastic pill container and stuck them under the sleeve of my turtleneck.

Triumphantly I extracted a tampon, waving it in his face. He looked as if he were witnessing ritual butchery.

Good.

* * *

When he’d destroyed the last of the chips and salsa, he glanced again at his watch. “Time to go. The travel arrangements will be the same. Only this time I will be threatening Little Miss Muffet with this example of modem weaponry.” He waved the gun. “She’ll go first; then Rebecca; then Julio. All three of you will be dead in about five seconds if anything untoward happens.”