Murder and Mayhem (15 page)

“No, Danny. No regrets.”

When she smiled his heart thumped in his chest and he
felt desire stir in his loins. It had been a long time since he’d felt this
happy.

“Okay then, let’s Rock and Roll.” He laughed as he put
the SUV into gear and drove out of the parking lot. When they joined early
morning traffic on I-95, Danny looked at Nicola and chuckled. “Say goodbye to
Philadelphia, darlin’.”

Nicola’s lips and eyes smiled as she buzzed down the
window and called out in a poor imitation of Danny’s Australian accent,
“Goodbye Philadelphia,” then added the word, “darlin’,” with a strong Texan
accent. As they passed a newsstand, Nicola glanced at the headlines splashed
across the front page of the Philadelphia Enquirer.

“Bodies OF two WOMEN Found
MUTILATED!”

But her mind was on the journey ahead.

* * *

They were perusing the menu when a redheaded waitress
with sharp pinched features and tired, washed out eyes sidled up to their
booth.

“Hi, my name is Donna. Can I getcha some coffee while
you’re checkin’ the menu?”

“You bet,” Danny said and rewarded her with a smile
that would have sent most women weak at the knees but was lost on the
overworked waitress.

When the omelet made from peppers, jack cheese and
onions was placed in front of him, along with the side order of extra bacon,
link sausage and breakfast fries, Danny picked up the bottle of Ketchup and
squeezed copious amounts of the thick red sauce over everything. When he
finished, he followed it with mustard and an eye-watering hot sauce. The French
toast he left untouched. Danny surveyed his handiwork and started to eat.

“Mmm, this tastes good,” he said as he forked another
large helping into his mouth. He looked up and noticed Nicola watching him, her
face and chest slated with shadows from the blinds on the windows.

“What?”

Nicola shrugged and picked up her fork. “Nothing,” she
said.

Danny pushed the plate across the table. “Here. Try
some. It tastes really good.”

Nicola looked at the mixture of red, and brown, and
yellow, and green, and tried not to think what it reminded her of, and pushed
the plate back.

“No thank, you,” she said as she picked up a finger of
toast and dipped it into the soft yolk of a lightly poached egg. “I plan to
live past noon.”

In parking lot, a man in a Toyota was eating a
hamburger and drinking coffee from the take-out next door. He adjusted the
mirror, removed his cap, and ran his fingers through his hair. When he noticed
the dark roots he made a mental note to pick up a bottle of hair-dye, replaced
the cap and adjusted the mirror so he could see the restaurant entrance.

*****

Ross leaned across the bed and ruffled Cody’s hair.
“What do you think little buddy, doesn’t that omelet sound good?”

Even though she was weary from another exhausting day
of treatment, Rosie didn’t want to be alone so everyone crowded into the
bedroom wanting me to read my latest chapter. With Cody there, I had to make
sure that I chose something reasonably mundane.

Cody’s face lit up. “Yeah, Uncle Ross. Do you think
you could cook me one for breakfast, tomorrow?”

I shot Ross a warning look.

“That stuff will give you terrible heartburn,” he
said, and added, “but I’ll cook you a delicious Spanish omelet with mushrooms
and tomatoes and a heap of other good stuff. But you don’t want to go spoiling
it with all that other gunk. It kills the taste of good food.”

“Can I have some country fries as well?” Cody asked.
Growing boys never seem to get enough to eat. Hollow legs my mother used to say
about my brother at the same age.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ross
said and made a playful grab at his nephew.

They tumbled about on the bed
for a while and then Cody said,
“Can I
have a look at your tattoos, Uncle Ross?”

I telegraphed a warning look as
he rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt and showed the lanky teenager the
ink-blue strands of barbed wire that twined around his large upper arms. When
Ross flexed his bulging biceps, Cody wrapped both hands around one of them and
gawked in awe of the fact that the tips of his fingers didn’t even meet.

“Oh, massive,” he said. “Can I have one of these,
Mom?”

“Of course you can, Cody,” I answered for her. Rosie
smiled and waited for the penny to drop. “If you go to the gym and lift
weights, in a couple of years I’m sure you’ll have muscles just like your Uncle
Ross.”

“And eat lots of pizzas and KFC and McDonald’s–” Ross
stopped mid-sentence when he saw the threatening look in my eyes.

“Err…listen to your Aunt, Cody,” he said.

“I meant the tattoos. Can I have
a tattoo like Uncle Ross?”

“Well, then–no, Cody, you can’t have any tattoos.”

“Aw gee, Aunty Bee, Uncle Ross has got them, so why
can’t I?”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the results
of that. Ask me again in about ten years, but if you’re the smart kid I think
you are by then you should know the answer to that question without any help from
me,” I said dismissing the subject. As I’ve said before, I’d cut my teeth on a
petulant daughter. Compared to teenage girls, navigating your way across the
Gaza Strip during a rocket attack would be like a stroll through the park on a
spring morning.

Cody hiked himself up off the bed and slumped out of
the room.

“If you’re going out, Cody,” I called after him,
“don’t forget to comb your hair.”

Rosie laughed. “Oh, yeah right… Well, good luck with
that one.”

*****

The sun cast a warm glow across the landscape as they
drove through small towns and villages built by pioneers and early settlers,
where battles were fought and cemeteries were littered with ghosts, and ancient
grave stones stood testament to times long gone, and people long forgotten.       

By mid afternoon they had arrived at the town of New
Hope nestled on the banks of the Delaware River, and checked into the Logan Inn
on South Main Street.

They sipped cold drinks on the terrace as they watched
angled rays of sunlight rake the landscape with long golden tines. Nicola
picked up a brochure she’d got from the front desk and started to read aloud
extracts of the town’s history.

“‘New Hope, founded in1681, was originally part of a
land grant of a thousand acres given by William Penn to Richard Heath, and all
his heirs and assigns, forever, for the yearly rent of one English silver
shilling for every one hundred acres, embracing the whole of the borough of New
Hope.’”

Danny let out a slow whistle. “Boy, what a great deal
they must have got. Do you think we could pass ourselves off as a couple of
long lost relatives?”

Nicola laughed, and continued reading, “‘The Great
Spring, a natural watercourse that pours cool, pure water from a limestone
ledge was used to generate grain and paper mills in the area, and was a
favorite resort of the Lenape people–also known as the Delaware Indians. More
recently the district has become home to many artists and literary
personalities.’ In other words, you never know who you might run into walking
down Main Street.”

They spent a lazy afternoon exploring the town and the
narrow towpath that ran beside the river; they wandered down streets with large
shade trees and clapboard houses with shuttered windows and porches out front,
where lazy cats slept on wicker rockers painted in soft pastel shades of blue,
and pink, and lilac, and buttercup yellow, and cottage gardens filled with
perfumed flowers grew alongside white picket fences.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun dipped below the
horizon sending out flashes of pink and orange and purple, Danny and Nicola ate
dinner on the terrace at the front of the Logan Inn, and watched people stroll
past.

When the purple evening light gave way to darkness and
lights came on all over the town, Nicola sat alone on the terrace while Danny
went upstairs to change. He appeared a short time later wearing the black jeans
and T-shirt Nicola had come to think of as his Harley uniform; in one hand he
held his baseball cap, in the other, a rolled-up black plastic bag as he
sauntered across the terrace to where Nicola sat. He leaned down and planted a
kiss on her cheek.

“Hate to leave you babe, but Harley oil is pumping
through my veins,” he said with a chuckle as he tucked his hair under the cap
and skipped down the back steps.

“Bye,” Nicola called as she watched him head for the
parking lot behind the inn.

Danny turned and gave her a cheeky grin. “Bye,
beautiful,” he said, blew her a kiss–and was gone. 

Nicola watched the red taillights of the SUV as it
headed down Main Street and merged with traffic at the bridge. The town was
bathed in the warm glow of lights that spilled out from storefronts and
buildings.

When Nicola finished her wine, she slipped her bag
over her shoulder and stepped down onto the pavement. 

* * *

People and music seemed to erupt from every window and
doorway as she threaded her way along the sidewalk past a collection of
restaurants and cafes, and usual assortment of businesses found in most tourist
towns. As Nicola passed Fran’s Pub people spilled out, crowding the sidewalk,
causing her to step off the curb to avoid a group of rowdy revelers. A symphony
of laughter drifted on the night air as people took advantage of the mild
summer weather to enjoy good food and the relaxed atmosphere of the vibrant
township.

Humming softly Nicola looked in shop windows of trendy
boutiques where clothes adorned wafer-thin mannequins that looked like
will-o-the-wisps. And bought stamped postcards for her grandparents, scribbled
a message on the back and dropped them into the mailbox.

When she reached the bridge, a soft wind ruffled
through her hair as she leaned against the rail and watched boats cruise up and
down the river, their navigation lights reflecting on the murky black water
where a liquid moon rolled and shimmered. It was a beautiful night, filled with
stars that sparkled in the black velvet sky like diamonds.

Nicola sighed as she watched the wavering taillight of
cars in the distance; and the warm glow of lights from houses along the river.
The sound of music and laughter drifted up. She looked down Main Street where
people were strolling along the sidewalk in pairs or groups, and felt very
alone.

Suddenly she saw a tall figure dressed in black
pushing his way through people crowding the sidewalk and her face lit up. She
waved her hands in the air excitedly and called out his name as she hurried up
Main Street to meet him. When he looked up and saw her, Nicola laughed. She
waved again, and called out his name, excited as a schoolgirl. And then she
stopped. She watched him falter, turn around, and hurry back in the direction
he’d come from.

As she made her way down the sidewalk sidestepping
people and dogs, the dark figure mingled with people standing outside Fran’s
Pub – and disappeared.

Nicola jostled her way into the pub past noisy drinkers
and rowdy revelers, looking around. She worked her way to the bar and waited
for the bartender to finish serving a woman reeling off a long list of drinks.
She could sense the man standing beside her give her the once over.

“Can I buy you a drink,” he asked as he leaned towards
her. His breath reeked of stale beer and garlic. His sweaty body stank of cheap
cologne, and B.O.

Nicola drew back, gave him a weak smile, and said,
“No, thank you. I’m meeting someone.”

“Suit yourself,” the man said and turned his attention
to a couple of young women jostling their way to the bar.

“What can I get ya, love?” she heard someone ask in
what seemed like a British accent.

Nicola looked up and saw the barman standing in front
of her wiping a damp cloth over the bar.

“What…?  Oh, nothing, thank you. I’m just looking for
someone.” The bartender nodded and moved off.

“Pardon me,” she called after him. “Have you seen a
blond-headed man, six-foot-two wearing black jeans and a T-shirt and a black
baseball cap?”

The bartender shook his head. “No. Sorry, love, can’t
say that I have. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, the accent even
more pronounced.

“No, thank you,” Nicola said, and walked off.

While she lingered outside the men’s restroom she
heard a familiar voice behind her.