Relative Danger (22 page)

More emotions rose. Hatred was a sentiment I didn’t like to harbor. I struggled but couldn’t shake it from my body. I felt the need for human contact. It was too late to call my friends in distant places. Too late to immerse myself in a crowded theater. And plant lovers all over the world were surely angry with me now. I couldn’t even go to their chat rooms.

Gil was snuggling with his lover. I could toss on my slut outfit, drive out, and pick up a man. I could show Gil. Yes, I could.

I shivered. Returning to the laptop, I saved “Beginner’s Guide to Growing Cactuses” on a disk that I would take some place to get printed out. I slid the disk into my purse and then checked e-mail. Live people would have sent that.

Nine messages popped up. One promised to lengthen my penis. Three others said their cream would increase my bust measurements. Had Marisa Hernandez ever been tempted by such an ad? Hannah had high breasts for a woman her age. Maybe she’d discovered the Wonder Bra like Millie, who cursed the papers she ran off in the lounge. Anne Little, dubbing herself “keeper of the keys,” was a big woman with medium-sized breasts. Tom Reynolds had called in sick yesterday. The only time he’d missed, a few hours before that, it seemed, was to attend Grant Labruzzo’s funeral. Who pulled the fire alarm? And who dumped the cleansers? A man died at that school.

Flirtation. Jealousy. Motives for any of those horrible events?

Let’s go back to Cairo
, a subject line on my screen said, and the tension in my jaw relaxed. I clicked for that message, sent by Betsy Tullis. Betsy and I had met while riding camels near each other. Betsy first belted out her contagious joyful laugh when I’d said I wanted to sit up on their humps—I said I always liked to straddle humps. Betsy was someone I planned to keep as a friend for a long time.

Cealie, have you been to Serengeti? If not, you need to rush right over. The stars are brilliant tonight and seem set in a velvet carpet. They look like they’re right overhead—I believe I could touch them. I’ve watched exotic creatures in the wild and yesterday, took a sunrise balloon safari. The wildebeest have been traveling in columns several miles long. They must’ve spied a sexy female up ahead. Sexy like you and me.

Miss you, Betsy.

I grinned. I thought of a sexy female, conjured an image of Legs, and lost my smile. I typed up a reply.
Betsy, I’m coming right over! Leave the door open. (Oh, you probably don’t have one.) Well, leave a space by your side and I’ll be there.
I considered a moment and then wrote,
I’d really like to, but I’m near Chicago, about to watch my granddaughter graduate.
Was I telling the truth?
I told you about Kat. (I also mentioned Gil. He’s here too, but that’s another story.)
I smiled as my message went off toward the stars of Serengeti.

I deleted other messages until the second-to-last subject line said,
Come visit us, Cealie.
Wilma Setton, whom I’d met on another trip, wrote it. Wilma had advised me about what to see and places to avoid while in Singapore. When we met on the plane, she’d just left her fourth husband. I didn’t want to keep close company. Wilma believed she’d evolved from a cat, since her favorite activity was stretching up against males and sometimes trying to claw out their eyes. Here she invited me to visit her and her new mate in Denver. I deleted Wilma’s message. The final subject line read
YOU’RE IN DANGER!

Tightness gripping my chest advised me not to read the message. My semi-psychic cousin Stevie had sent it. I ignored my instincts and read what she wrote anyway.

Stevie’s entire message shouted:
CEALIE, YOU AND SOMEONE NEAR YOU ARE IN EXTREME DANGER! YOU MUST LISTEN TO ME. MUST—STOP—WHAT YOU’RE DOING. I HAVE HORRIBLE VIBRATIONS. I SEE VISIONS. THEY SHOW THREATENING PEOPLE AROUND YOU. LEAVE THAT PLACE, CEALIE. I’M NOT KIDDING!

YOUR FAVORITE COUSIN, STEVIE.

Chapter 17

Stevie’s warning dried my mouth. I touched the delete button, not wanting to believe her e-mail message. More often than not, my cousin’s foretelling missed the mark. But she had helped her local police solve a crime they’d considered unsolvable. And there were threatening people at Kat’s school. What if Stevie was right this time?

My mail truck bore a message:
Leave or die
. How clear was that?

Who else around me might also be in danger? My arms hit my sides with their shaking, and I said, “Kat.”

A person had died at her school. Another had been taken off on a stretcher. I could avoid Sidmore High forever, but would Kat? Should she? I pondered alternatives, walking out the condo’s back door into the dark. How important would graduation really be in Kat’s future? Could ending her school years by going to take final exams bring about an end to her?

A knot balled up in my throat. I dropped to a lawn chair, barely noticing that people walked past. Night veiled the surrounding apartments. I stared out, my mind viewing unwanted scenes, trying to sort them to discover what seemed wrong. The threatening Sledge. The nonthreatening appearance of Marisa. Blood covering Grant Labruzzo, draped across folded chairs. Roxy, lips painted brown. The flap-flap of papers running through a copy machine, Deidre’s pen bleeding red across tests. Coach’s murderous voice. Hannah’s jutting breasts, and Anne’s swinging hoop earrings. Abby’s eyes hidden beneath bangs. Clashing voices and symbols.
Leave or die, bitch
.

All was silent now in the dark. I stood and found my legs unsteady.

Dashing into the condo, I slammed the sliding door to the courtyard. Turned the bolt lock. My pulse pounded. Who might threaten Kat? She was a child. I needed to protect her. I needed help.

I ran out front and took off in the Mustang. I drove, veering through Saturday-night-out-on-the-town traffic, and neared Cajun Delights. Staring ahead, I passed by it. I tore through streets while Stevie’s warning bounced through my mind.

Kat’s car was gone from the driveway when I reached her house. I parked behind Roger’s truck. Lights were on in the kitchen and his bedroom. I shoved the bell at the back door.

A flicker of surprise crossed Roger’s face, and then the smallest smile appeared. “Hello,” he said, looking weary.

“Hi.” I attempted a chipper tone, pecked a kiss on his cheek, and walked in.

He looked askance toward shiny appliances. “Can I get you something? Tea? A beer?”

I dropped to a chair, and Roger shifted his feet. “No thanks,” I said. I forced myself to chitchat first. “Kat and I had a nice morning shopping.”

“I saw the panda.” He glanced toward the door. “Kat’s at a movie with a friend.”

“A girlfriend?”

Roger nodded, and I leaned forward, unable to keep up any pretense. “How do you think she’s doing?”

“Doing?” He gave me a blank look.

“Toward graduation. Life in general.” I wasn’t exactly sure of what I wanted from my son. But I needed something. Someone. I required the comfort of knowing that Kat would be supported. And safe.

Roger’s response came from the bottom of his sigh. “I’m not sure.” Unable or unwilling to express his real thoughts, he pulled out a chair and sat beside me.

“How is she, Roger?”

“Kat seems to be doing all right in school. As usual.” His breathing appeared shallow. “She’ll graduate. And then go off to college…” His gaze shifted toward the far wall. He resembled a man who was lost.

I touched his hand, the realization striking like a blow to my chest. His daughter, just like his wife, would soon leave him. And then he would be all alone. “You’re really going to miss her,” I said.

He swallowed hard, a small sound coming from his throat. “I will miss her.”

“I could stay in town a while.”

He made a sad laugh. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need my mother staying around to take care of me.”

Yes, maybe you do
. But I could see his point. Having a mom hovering might make him feel less of a man. But I might possibly help. As the time neared for Kat’s graduation, I’d have to feel out the situation.

This was certainly no time to intensify his worry. He had to know that a custodian died at Kat’s school, but he didn’t seem to have an inkling of how that death was affecting her. I couldn’t tell him everything, couldn’t make myself discuss the possibility that she might not graduate. I squeezed my boy’s hands. “She’ll do fine. So will you.”

Uncertainty gripped Roger’s face. His eyes looked haunted. I kissed his cheek and said, “Can I do anything to help?”

His lips made a shaky, sad smile. “Kat will be leaving home soon. What can you do about that?”

Both of us slowly got to our feet. I hugged Roger and he draped his arms across my back. My eyes burned. With a final squeeze, I went for the door. “You don’t need to tell Kat I was here,” I said.

Roger kept his semblance of a dazed person. I heard the door lock click behind me.

My chest felt like a heavy weight was in it while I drove. Besides trying to get over the loss of Nancy, Roger had been experiencing this extra grief. He dwelled on knowing he’d soon lose his daughter. I knew of a possible threat to Kat but hadn’t been able to tell him. What kind of mother and grandma was I?

Headlights heading toward me all blurred. I swiped a hand across my eyes. They wet my fingers.

I wished the police would tell me what they knew or thought. I returned to the condo and let a long, hot shower sting me. Needing consolation, I powdered with a fluffy mitt and draped on a lightweight granny gown. I sat on the edge of the bed, held up the fabric, and admired the tiny yellow flowers on a white background, and tried to recall when I’d last worn the thing. The months while I’d been shedding my old self, I hadn’t put it on. Instead I chose to wear nylons and silks. Especially during my tenure with Gil. I shoved away his image and the picture of what was surely his car, parked in darkness near his girlfriend’s.

I sighed. This gown brought me comfort. It had attracted my focus in the closet, drawing me to it as though to an old friend. Bereft of spirit, I stretched beneath the bedcovers. I reached under the sheet, drew the gown’s bottom down to my ankles, and curled to my side, willing my mind to shut down.
Sleep
, I said, using self-talk. Don’t think of problems. Only positives.

When I couldn’t do that, I urged my mind to blank out. No pictures. No faces. No threats. But someone had just warned me again. My mail truck. And now cousin Stevie. The image of Roger’s face creased in misery came, and I willed it away, blanketing my mind with a black wall.

I awoke to glowing numerals on the clock near my bed. It was almost two a.m. Stevie would be getting ready to leave for her nighttime workout. I hustled up, grabbed my cell phone, and called her.

“Cealie!” she screamed, answering. “It worked!”

“What worked?” My mind only focused at this hour because of the heaviness weighing on it. Stevie was the only person I knew who purposely woke up in the middle of the night. She’d jump up from sleep, toss on workout clothes, and drive across town. After an hour and a half at the gym, she’d crawl back into bed for a final three hours of deep slumber.

“My message worked,” she said.

“Yes, I received it. Oh my God, Stevie, I was afraid of that.” My heart thump-thumped as I relived the fearful threat that she’d brought to my attention. I was in extreme danger. So was Kat.

Her laughter sputtered. Stevie’s annoying laugh sounded as if she were choking. I used to think I’d have to pull off the Heimlich.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked.

“I’m talking about the warning. You know, your message.” It dawned on me that I hadn’t noticed when she’d sent it. But a threat was a threat. She snorted. Stevie sounded like she was holding her breath between cackles.

“What!” I shouted.

“Oh Cealie, I knew that would get your attention. That’s why I made it up.”

“You did
what
?”

“I don’t know why you’re mad. I don’t even know where you are. But I miss you, favorite cousin. I just wanted you to get in touch with me.”

“Stevie, I can’t believe you!”

“I’m sorry. But please come over to visit. I have this big prob—”

I’d give her a problem, I promised myself, slamming my phone shut and tossing it down like a hot coal. My ears burned from fury. Fire might’ve come from my nostrils. My dear relative had made a fool of me. She’d percolated my emotions so that I’d feared for my granddaughter’s life. And all had been done just for kicks. To get my attention.

She had my attention, all right. As far as I was concerned, Stevie needed lots more problems, and as soon as I could come up with a few catastrophic ones, I’d send them her way. What she’d done was unforgivable. Making me fear for Kat?

I stomped from the bedroom, flicking on every light. Sleep wouldn’t return during the final hours before daylight. “Minnie,” I cried in the kitchen, “you see why I try to avoid most of my relatives? They just get you in an uproar!” I nibbled on cheese and crackers, telling Minnie all that bugged me, especially my cousin. I still wondered about the advisability of Kat showing up for the commencement ceremony, but I was too irate to consider the reasons.

Negative talk might not be healthy for Minnie, but what were friends for, if not to listen? Minnie was a good listener. Daylight broke through the curtains by the time I was done with pouring out misery, and Minnie looked none the worse for it. I showered and then in my undies, did some big stretches. The exercise helped rid me of worry. Stretching loosened the last tightness in my muscles from the Hula Hoop and playing Twister.

I tossed on pretty clothes—a fuchsia linen dress and pantyhose without a control top—and made plans to have my son and his daughter for a meal. Of course, not on my cooking. And the restaurant we’d go to would
not
be Gil’s. First I needed to convince Kat to talk to me. I’d try to go through Roger. But it was still too early to call their house.

From the pantry I grabbed the box holding my New Balance walking shoes. I put them on and went out, finding a misty morning that promised sunshine. I was the only person wearing a dress and stockings during my brisk stroll, but I wasn’t bothered. My mind was clearing of murder. Most of the school people I had thought of last night couldn’t be killers. I was certain of that now. They were ordinary people: teachers who got angry at teens and teens who acted up to challenge adults’ authority. At the schools I’d attended while growing up, there had always been a few vocal teachers who criticized many students, and always a few students who attended, it seemed, only to give their teachers misery. That situation probably still occurred at every school.