Never Too Rich (68 page)

“
Goddammit!” Snake hollered. There
was a sudden crash as a lamp fell and shattered. “Answer
me!”

Billie and Hallelujah both jerked.

Snake gunned the accelerator threateningly. “Shirl!”
he bellowed above the rise-and-fall rumble of the Harley. “God
damn, I know you’re behind there!” With a kick of his engineer boot
he sent one of the bassinets crashing over.

Billie tightened her grip on Hallelujah.

Snake suddenly laughed. “Shiiiiiirleeeeeyyyy . . .”
he crowed. “Yoo-hoo, Shiiiiirleeeeeyyyy ...”

Billie felt everything inside her constrict. He
knows! she thought in a whimpering panic. He knows I’m behind here!
Oh, sweet Jesus, he’s got me cornered!

The Harley’s engine growled louder as Snake let out
the clutch and crept the bike slowly forward. The front tire
touched the screen and made it shake; then he walked the bike
backward a few steps and rode it slowly forward again.

Toying with her.

Same World/Same
Time

In the Realm of Miss
Bitch

Miss Bitch was in a tizzy.

With grim lips and insane eyes, he staggered down
the corridor as fast as his bigh-heeled maribou mules allowed. He
had no idea where the outlaw biker had come from, but one thing was
for certain: no Satan’s Warrior was going to rain on this bitch’s
parade!

Miss Bitch was looking decidedly the worse for wear.
It wasn’t easy to stab stab stab and stay neat as a pin. Anouk’s
damp, blood-matted hair sat askew on his head, his carefully
applied makeup was grotesquely smeared, and crusty dried blood bad
splattered him from head to toe, giving him a rusty-brown
appearance. Innumerable runs made vertical tracks in his black
stockings.

Miss Bitch held the switchblade at his side, his
fist curled tightly around the handle, ready to bring it up and
stab stab stab some more. He’d wiped the blade clean after each
use, and now, spotless again, it caught the glow from the wall
sconces and shone like a sliver of silvery mirror.

Miss Bitch tightened his grip on the knife. He was
not about to let this occasion be ruined—especially not by some
groddy unkempt hoodlum of a caveman who rode around indoors on his
nasty machine, thank you very much! The sheer impudence of it! How
dared that animal invade his personal killing ground! How dared he
be so presumptuous as to go after one of Miss Bitch’s lovelies! It
really was too much to take—he wanted to leap at him from behind
and bite his neck open like Dracula.

But Miss Bitch never killed from behind. Miss Bitch
delighted in making the poor things look at him, making them squirm
like terrified little worms, and watching as their bowels and
bladders—kebang!—let loose.

Ob yes, from the front was best. Head-on killing was
always the most highly satisfactory. The only way, really.

Chapter 73

Billie Dawn’s mind was racing. She knew that she and
Hallelujah had to get out of this house—and quick.

She did some speedy calculations. Between this room
and the stairs stretched at least fifty feet of hallway. And the
elegant circular staircase took its time reaching the ground
floor—it had been designed for sweeping grand entrances, not fast
escapes. At least another forty feet there. And the nearest
neighboring house was . . . how far away? A hundred yards? More?
And would anybody be home? Anyway, it was a moot point. Chances
were, the madman who’d killed Anouk would get hold of them before
they’d ever manage to get off this property.

But. And a big but. A new consideration had suddenly
entered the picture. Snake had the bike. Depending on how she
played her cards, he could well be their ticket out of here—she and
Hallelujah could both squeeze behind him on the pillion seat, and
they could be out of this house and halfway to town in a minute.
That was, if Snake didn’t batter her half to death first.

A sobering thought, that. She really was caught
between the devil and the deep blue sea.

The thing was, did she dare appeal to Snake for
help? That was the $64,000 question.

And would Snake provide help? That was another
$64,000 question.

Her heart pounded. Which was worse? Confronting
Snake or the killer?

She didn’t have to give that one much thought. The
madman was a psychotic. She’d seen the way he’d butchered Anouk,
not to mention Ermine and Obi Kuti. Next to him, Snake was merely a
vicious animal. Rabid, perhaps, but definitely the lesser of two
evils. He liked to hurt and rape and pillage, but as far as she
knew, he hadn’t killed anyone. Yet.

Some comfort.

Gently she pushed Hallelujah away from her and took
her by the hand. “Don’t be scared,” she whispered. “Okay, honey?”
She gave the girl’s fingers a squeeze, trying to convey a strength
and surety she did not feel.

Hallelujah looked at her curiously and then
nodded.

Billie forced a quick smile and offered up a little
prayer. She hoped this wasn’t going to be a case of jumping from
the frying pan into the fire—or into another frying pan.

The bike came at the screen again, this time almost
knocking it over. It rocked back and forth, did a trembly little
dance, and was finally still. Billie could hear Snake walking the
bike back before making another run at it.

Now.

Pulling Hallelujah after her, Billie stepped out
from behind the screen. “All right, Snake. You win.” She held up
her free hand in a gesture of surrender.

“
Well, well, well.” Snake shut the
bike off. “Lookit here! It’s the famous Billie Dawn.” A mean little
grin curled his lips.

“
Look, Snake, I know you have it in
for me, and I can’t blame you. All right?” She locked eyes with
him, refusing to show any trace of unease. He thrived on inducing
fear, and she knew that the only way to get what she wanted was to
stand up to him. It was the best curve she could throw him—and the
only one.

He stared at her. “Damn right I got it in for you,
bitch. We got some unfinished business to discuss. ‘Member?”

“
Oh, save it for later, Snake. In
case you don’t know it, we’re all in big trouble.”

With his steel-toed boot he flipped out the
kickstand, swung his leg up over the seat, and let go of the bike.
It fell sideways, caught on the kickstand, and leaned there
rakishly.

He squinted narrowly at her. “Whaddya mean,
we’re
in trouble?” He stood there, his massive shoulders
hunched forward, his thick arms and huge hands dangling
threateningly at his sides.

“
I need your help.” Billie hugged
Hallelujah close. “We both need your help,” she said
firmly.

He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s a good
one! I ride out here to show ya who’s boss, and whaddya do? You say
you need my
help!”
He stopped laughing and scowled. “You’re
right. You do.”

“
Snake,” she said, “there’s a dead
woman down the hall, a very dead woman who has been scalped. The
killer’s here in this house right now, and he’s after us.” She
tried to keep her voice firm and yet make it sound imploring. “We
can settle our differences later. But right now, just give us a
ride out of this place. Please?”

“
You’re a good storyteller. Yeah.”
He fished into a pocket for a toothpick and stuck it between his
teeth. Then he shook his head. “No dice, bitch. I ain’t gonna put
up with your shit no more.”

“
Snake! You don’t know what’s
happening here!”

Snake replied by lacing his fingers. He cracked all
eight of them noisily. “Maybe not, but I know what’s gonna happen
to
you.”
He leered at her.

“
Please!” Hallelujah piped up.
“Like just listen to her, okay?”

“
That’s right, Mr. Snake!” Miss
Bitch mimicked from the door. “You should learn to listen!” He had
one hand on a hip, and held the steel blade up in front of him with
the other.

Stifling a cry, Billie Dawn shoved Hallelujah behind
her.

“
You’d better make tracks, Mr.
Snake,” Miss Bitch hissed. “You see, these lovelies are mine! These
ladies are spoken for! Catch my drift?”

Snake was not particularly fast on the uptake.
Jerking a thumb at Miss Bitch, he turned to Billie Dawn and asked,
“This freak a friend of yours?” Then he looked from her to
Hallelujah and back to Miss Bitch again. He gave a nasty laugh. “It
ain’t Halloween yet!”

“
You shut your wicked mouth!” Miss
Bitch screamed. “Go wash it out with soap! Have you looked at
yourself
in a mirror lately?”

Something dangerous and yellow glinted in Snake’s
eyes. “All right, twinkletoes,” he snarled. “You asked for it!”

“
Oh
ho!
Aren’t we getting
butch!”
And Miss Bitch decided to showcase his talent; in a
blur, he spun the switchblade like a baton, faster than the eye
could see.

Then abruptly he stopped spinning it, and held it,
point up. His smeared-clown-makeup of a mouth grinned hideously.
“Getting scared, big boy?” Batting his false eyelashes, he started
stalking slow, wide, wobbly circles around Snake.

Never taking his eyes off Miss Bitch, Snake fished
into a pocket and pulled out a little something of his own. There
was a click as his hand came up. The switchblade he held in it was
like a live bolt of electricity.

“
Snake,
don’t?
Billie
pleaded. “Let’s just get the hell out of here! He’s
crazy!”

“
Shut your face,” Snake growled
without looking at her. “I need ta concentrate.” He was bent half
over, following Miss Bitch’s every move.

“
Crazy?” Miss Bitch shrieked. “Did
that naughty girl call me crazy? As in cuckoo?”

“
Yeah. That’s right, she did.”
Clenching his switchblade in front of him, Snake kept turning
around and around as the monstrous thing in drag circled him on
those ridiculously fuzzy high heels. A faint smile hovered on the
big biker’s lips. “Come on, whatever the fuck you are. Put your
life where your mouth is.” With his extended free hand, Snake
curled and uncurled his fingers, gesturing for Miss Bitch to try
something.

A savage joy blazed in Miss Bitch’s eyes. “Here I
come!” he screamed, and kicked off the mules.

Chapter 74

Edwina’s eyes snapped open.

All she could see was the clean white sweep of a
smooth, freshly painted ceiling.

All she could feel was a piercing pain shooting
through her skull.

And all she could smell was the sickening, coppery
odor of fresh blood close by.

Hal! The thought jumped at her.

Instantly she jerked up into a sitting position and
cringed as glass seemed to shatter inside her head. Gingerly she
reached up and probed her skull. Her hair wasn’t sticky, so at
least there was no bleeding, thank God. But there
was
a lump
the size of an egg.

That she could deal with.

Slowly she twisted around and got to her knees. She
looked about to get her bearings, and her eyes found Anouk’s
grotesque, inert form. Quickly she looked away, but not before the
bile rose once more in her throat.

What in all heaven had . . . ?

And in a terrible flash everything came back to her.
The three dead cops in the cars outside. Hearing Hallelujah’s voice
coming from both ends of the hall. Finding Anouk. Running back out
and being intercepted by that ghoulish creature that had rammed an
elbow into her chest and knocked her off her feet, the revolver
flying out of her . . .

The revolver! Where is the goddamn revolver?

Desperately her eyes searched the floor for
it
.Wbere is it?
her mind screamed. Heedless of her splitting
head, she crawled around on her hands and knees, looking under
tables and chairs.

Oh, God! Did that monster take off with it?

She lifted the skirt of a chintz sofa and peered
under it.

There it was!

The relief that flooded through her was almost
painful. She stretched out flat alongside the sofa, stuck an arm
under it, and felt for the heavy cool metal.

Her fingers came up empty.

Oh, hell! Squeezing herself closer against the sofa,
she stretched her arm as far back as it would reach. Groped
desperately.

Still out of reach! She let out a little cry.

Suddenly she froze. From somewhere in the distance
came Billie Dawn’s and Hallelujah’s screams. That monster—
What
was he doing to them!
—must have them cornered—
Oh, God, what
did he want with them!
She jumped to her feet.

Summoning an almost superhuman effort, she lifted
one end of the heavy sofa a few inches. Gritting her teeth, she
moved it out a few feet and let it drop. The floor shook. Then she
jumped on the chintz-upholstered seat, clambered over the sofa’s
back, reached down, and grabbed the revolver.

Just feeling its hefty weight was somehow
reassuring.

Down the hall, the screams continued.

Revolver in hand, Edwina ran.

Below the helicopter, a low fog bank was rolling in
from the Atlantic. Already it was obscuring the lighted windows in
the expensive beachfront houses.

The pilot pointed down. “If it gets any worse, we’ll
never find the place,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“
You could find a whore in pea
soup, and you know it!” Babs Petrie yelled back at him. Then she
twisted around in her seat. “Another five minutes,” she yelled at
Fred Koscina. “You know the house?”

“
It’s supposed to look like a
nightmare castle,” he shouted back. “All towers and
turrets.”