Unholy Matrimony (20 page)

Lucille jumped. Someone was sitting there, and he appeared to be tied up—his hands and feet were bound with rope, and there was a gag across his mouth.

Maria flipped on a light and Lucille gasped. It was Alex Grabowski.

He didn’t look so high and mighty now, his eyes large with fear and sweat staining his pale blue cotton shirt. He looked at Lucille and she shrugged. There wasn’t nothing she could do. Least not as far as she could see.

Maria sat on the sofa and kept her gun trained on the two of them. She kept glancing at her watch.

“Not much time,” she announced. “Our flight is in three hours.”

Lucille nodded. “Yeah, but they want you there early now. Rita, she’s the one who cuts my hair over at the Clip and Curl, flew down to Florida with her husband. She said they do all these inspections now and you gotta have your stuff in one of them little plastic bags you put leftovers in and take your shoes off and everything. Sheesh, that’s no way to treat people. Makes me glad I ain’t planning to go nowheres.” Lucille stifled a burp. This here thing was giving her heartburn something bad.

“So where are you going?” she asked Maria.

“To the Cayman Islands.” She jerked her gun toward Alex. “He’s going to tell me where he’s hidden all his money, and I’m going to get mine back.”

Alex made a noise behind his gag.

“Talked me into putting all my savings into his fund. I worked hard for that money. I scrimped and saved so I could retire someday.” Maria motioned toward the furniture. “I didn’t buy stuff, I made do. I managed to put away a nice sum. Then Alex here tells me about this great investment deal. I didn’t want to go for it, know what I mean?”

She looked at Lucille, and Lucille nodded.

“I wanted to keep my dough locked up in the bank where it was nice and secure. Sure, it wasn’t making much interest, but I wasn’t losing anything either.” She glared at Alex. “Then Mr. Big Shot here tells me about this great investment opportunity. How his clients had doubled and tripled their money in no time.” She looked down at her hands. “I admit it, I got greedy. I thought, why not me? You know what I mean?” She looked at Lucille again, and Lucille nodded.

“He and that sister of mine were going to flee down there to the islands and live high on the hog off my life savings.” Maria poked a finger at her own chest. “I told Donna she had to get him to give me my money back. According to her, he’d hidden plenty of it down there in those banks where they don’t ask any questions. But she just laughed at me. Said those were the risks you took when you invested in something.”

“So you got her to go over to the church—”

“Yeah. I called her and told her there was a problem with the flowers. That she needed to get there right away. Donna always had to control everything herself. She never could leave something to someone else.”

“Then you killed her.”

Maria nodded.

“So if Alex is here”—Lucille nodded toward where the trussed-up Alex was sitting—“then who was the guy in the casket?”

Maria grunted. “I don’t know. When the cops found him, he had Alex’s wallet on him. I figure he’s the guy who’d lifted Alex’s wallet earlier in the week. The cops called me down to identify the body. I hadn’t planned it, but it worked out perfectly. Everyone thought Alex was dead, so I was able to kidnap him and bring him here.”

“And now?” Lucille didn’t think she wanted to know what the final act of this drama was going to be.

“I’ve got my bags packed, and that scumbag and I”—she waved her gun in Alex’s direction—“are going to the Caymans and he’s going to give me my money. Or else. And you—” She turned to Lucille. “Well, I’m real sorry, but you’ve got to go.”

“You’re right.” Lucille started to push herself up from the chair. “I’ve got to get going. No telling what Bernadette is up to, and Frankie will want his dinner on the table at six o’clock as usual. He’s been working hard all day and deserves a hot meal when he gets home.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Now Maria had the gun pointed at Lucille.

“But you just said . . .”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant you’re going to be joining my sister in the great beyond.”

“No, you can’t, that’s not—”

Suddenly the front door flew open and Flo burst into the room. “You’re not going anywhere in my Mustang.”

Maria started to raise the gun but Lucille lunged forward and smacked her on the arm with the edge of her hand, just like she’d seen them do in those Bruce Lee movies Frankie liked. Maria howled and dropped the gun.

Lucille bent to grab the gun but it wasn’t easy—she was stiff and her stomach got in the way. She sent up a prayer to St. Thomas Aquinas, who was known to have battled the bulge himself. She was sure going to do a better job of her diet in the future. If there was a future.

Maria managed to get her hand on the gun. She stood up, smoothing down her skirt and hair.

She pushed past Lucille and ran for the front door, shoving Flo so hard Flo lost her balance. Flo’s heel got caught in the fringe on the throw rug and she fell over backward. Maria was already out the door, slamming it behind her. Before Flo could even get up they heard the low growl of the Mustang and loose gravel churning as Maria shot out of the parking lot.

“Come on,” Flo gestured to Lucille. “We’ve got to stop her.”

“Why don’t we just call the police, Flo. Let them handle it.”

“She’s got my car! I’m not waiting for anyone. I’m going after her.”

“All right, then I’ll come with you. But what about him?” She gestured toward Alex.

“He can stay here. We can call the police from my cell phone and tell them to come pick him up.”

Lucille turned around.

“What are you doing? We’ve got to get going.”

“I can’t leave the bird here. Who knows what might happen to it.”

“For chrissake, Lu, get a move on then, would you.”

Lucille picked up the birdcage and followed Flo out the door. She put the bird in the back of the hearse and joined Flo up front.

“I’ve never ridden in a hearse before,” she said as she fastened her seat belt.

“You were about to, if I hadn’t shown up when I did,” Flo said as she started the engine and tore out of the parking lot. “Did Maria say which airport she was going to?”

“No, but her flight was at three o’clock. She would have had to leave a lot earlier if she was going out of JFK.”

Flo grunted. “She’s got to take Route 24 to 78 to the airport. With any luck we’ll catch her before she gets there.” Without looking, Flo dug around inside her purse and tossed her cell phone to Lucille. “Here. Better give the cops a ring. Tell them to pick Alex up at Maria’s house. I bet there are going to be a lot of people who are glad he’s been caught. Not that that will get them their money back. The bastard.”

Flo floored the gas and they rocketed down the on-ramp to Route 24. Lucille clutched the door handle as they took a turn on two wheels.

“Be careful. Be careful,” the bird cried from the back. For once Lucille was in agreement with it.

“Slow down, Flo. It ain’t going to do us no good if we crash.”

Flo grunted but barely let up on the gas. Lucille could see the startled looks on the faces of the drivers in the other cars as they blew past them, the flags on the front hood of the hearse flapping furiously in the wind.

“Slow down, Flo,” Lucille said again. “It’s not right going this fast in a hearse. People are giving us funny looks.”

Flo quickly glanced at Lucille. “Do you want to catch Maria or not?”

“Okay, okay, just be careful, would you?”

They drove the next couple of miles in silence, Flo gripping the wheel with both hands and Lucille gripping the door handle for dear life. The car in front of Flo suddenly slammed on its brakes and she did the same. Lucille was thrown against her seat belt so hard she was sure she was going to have a whole bunch of them black and blue marks tomorrow.

They heard a noise from the back of the hearse and Lucille twisted around to see over her shoulder. The birdcage had tipped over, and the parrot was one pissed-off-looking bird. He was pecking furiously at the bars of his cage.

Traffic began to move again. “Look”—Flo pointed ahead of them—“I think that’s her.”

Lucille saw a flash of red. It did look like Flo’s Mustang. They were now approaching the turn-off for Newark Airport. Flo guided the hearse into the right lane, ready for the exit.

“She can’t have gotten that far ahead of us,” Flo said as she scanned the traffic in front of them.

They heard the rumble of a jet overhead and Lucille looked out the window to see a FedEx plane descending for a landing. They were almost to the airport now and the traffic had thinned.

“There she is,” Flo shouted, tromping on the accelerator and sending Lucille flying back in her seat.

The airport was just ahead of them. They blew past the sign for long-term parking, closing the gap between themselves and the Mustang.

“Come on, baby,” Flo said as she hit the gas harder.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” the parrot said from behind them.

They were right in back of Maria now. Flo blew the horn but Maria didn’t stop. Flo pulled into the left lane and suddenly they were abreast of the Mustang. They could see the furious expression on Maria’s face as she held the car steady on the road.

“What are you going to do?” Lucille momentarily closed her eyes.

“I’m going to run her off the road,” Flo said as she moved closer to the speeding Mustang.

“You don’t want nothing to happen to your car,” Lucille said as metal hit metal, sending sparks flying into the air. It looked like some kind of Fourth of July display.

“I can get the fender fixed. I just want my car back.” Flo veered to the right and metal hit metal again. This time it was accompanied by a slight crunching sound.

Lucille stuck her fingers in her ears and scrunched her eyes closed.

“What’s the matter with you,” Flo said as she edged the hearse ahead of the Mustang, “it’s not your car.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that you’re scaring me. I want to live to see my grandchild being born.” That thought made Lucille’s stomach turn over. What if Bernadette was in labor right now? She would need her mother.

“I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry.”

By now Flo was well ahead of Maria in the Mustang. She slowed down and angled the car so that it blocked the roadway. Maria would be forced to stop.

The sound of screeching brakes and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. Maria managed to stop just shy of the hearse blocking her way.

“My baby has good brakes,” Flo said smugly to Lucille. “You did call the police, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, they ought to be on their way by now.”

Flo leaned back in the driver’s seat, opened her purse and pulled out a pack of Marlboros.

“I don’t think you ought to smoke in this here hearse,” Lucille said. “It ain’t your property. Ippolito’s probably wouldn’t like it.”

Flo’s lighter flickered. “What do they care? Is the corpse going to complain about the smell?”

Just then they heard the wail of a siren in the background.

“The cops is here,” Lucille said, feeling all the air whoosh out of her. Now it was up to them to take over.

“What the . . .” Flo said, looking in the rearview mirror.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Maria is trying to make a run for it. I don’t believe it. Where is she going to go?” Flo buzzed down the window and threw out her half-finished cigarette. She waited for a moment and then opened the door. “I’m not letting her get away with this.”

“Wait for me. I’m coming with you.” Lucille opened the passenger door and began to get out. She left it ajar so hopefully the poor parrot would get some fresh air. It was probably choking on Flo’s smoke.

By now Maria was running down the shoulder of the road heading toward the airport. Flo took off after her. Even though Maria was wearing a pair of sensible flats and Flo had on high heels, Flo was closing the gap between the two of them.

Lucille ran after them. She hoped all this exercise didn’t give her no heart attack. Her breath burned in her chest and her pulse was pounding in her ears.

Flo managed to get abreast of Maria and grab her by the arm. Maria stumbled and nearly fell. Lucille was close enough now to see Maria’s face. She looked crazy. Of course, Flo didn’t look too normal either. Lucille had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

They’d both forgotten that Maria had a gun. As Lucille got closer, she could see the pistol in Maria’s right hand. She waved it in Flo’s face.

“Get out of my way,” she screamed. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“I don’t think so,” Flo said. The sound of sirens in the distance grew louder.

Maria looked over her shoulder. Lucille could see the beads of sweat standing out on her forehead. Lucille bet she wasn’t going to buy no cheap deodorant no more either.

Maria tried to go around Flo but Flo refused to budge. Finally, frustrated, Maria raised the gun and leveled it at Flo’s forehead. Lucille could see Maria’s finger twitching on the trigger.

“Flo!” she called. “Forget about it. Let her go. You’ve got your car back. What difference does it make?”

Flo’s features settled into that look that Lucille recognized all too well. It was like clay hardening—there was no going back.

Maria began to pull back the trigger, and Lucille shut her eyes and sent up a prayer to St. Michael, patron saint of death.

Suddenly there was an enormous squawking coming from the hearse, and the parrot, looking as pissed off as ever, emerged through the open door. “Yeah, baby,” it cried as it flew straight at Maria and landed on her head.

Maria screamed, dropped the gun, and began clawing at her hair in an attempt to unseat the parrot. Lucille could see its yellow claws curling under as it clung to Maria’s head.

“Get off me, you wretched beast,” Maria screamed.

Just then two police cars arrived, kicking up dust as they skidded off to the side of the road. Four uniformed officers—three men and a woman—emerged from the cars and surrounded Maria, their guns drawn. Maria, seeing that she was overpowered, threw herself down on the ground and pummeled the macadam furiously with her feet and fists. She looked just like Bernadette did when she’d have a tantrum back in the days of the terrible twos, Lucille thought.