A Date With Fate (43 page)

Questions crowded my mind. Why were Luke and John here before the police? How had the Hammer gotten into my building without leaving a trace of breaking in? How come my brother’s head wasn’t sliced off, or at least bleeding? Most importantly, did the falling glass hurt anyone on the sidewalk below?

For once, I was too overwhelmed to ask. I was filled with relief Reggie and I survived the ambush. I was even more ecstatic the stinking, homicidal Hammer hadn’t. I lay back and nestled my aching skull into the warmth of Luke’s chest, letting his fingers lightly rubbing my temple do their magic. I hurt everywhere, but the drumline banging away in the back of my head was the worst.

The apartment doorbell starting ringing, the shrill, buzzing noise distinctly audible even up here.

Luke stated, “Circus time begins. You two ready for this?”

Reg and I groaned, but we both agreed we wanted to get it over with immediately.

John strode off quickly and went downstairs. The three of us sat quietly in the lull before the shit storm heading our way arrived. Over the last twenty four hours, I’d become an old pro at handling police investigation procedures.

A minute later, Luke’s cell buzzed. When he answered, Jazy’s yelling voice could be heard clear as a bell. “I don’t care who you are, you damn well better let me up these stairs. Anabel! Reggie!”

Reggie started laughing. My head rose and fell with Luke’s chest when he sighed loudly in irritation.

His response was a deep rumble against my ear. “It’s the sister. Let her up, but only to the top of the stairs so she doesn’t fuck with the crime scene.” I could hear John’s voice raised in question. “Yeah, it’s the friend. Let her up, too. Yeah, John, she’s gorgeous. Yeah, sure, like Zena, Warrior Princess is about right.” Luke ended the call on a muttered, “Christ.”

Reg snickered. “Tre J has that effect on all men, don’t worry.”

Luke gave a snort. “You’d better worry. He was talking about your sister, Reggie.”

Then we were all snickering and snorting, Reg and me interspersing our mirth with the occasional moan of pain.

Jazy and Tre were at the top of the stairs in no time. John had to use his body and outspread arms to ban them going any further towards us. Luke added his warning to the mix, and the girls settled down after seeing Reg and me in one piece, more or less, lying in the sunlight at the other end of the room.

I had to sit up and turn around to face them. Groaning under my breath, I made this slow maneuver. Actually, it felt better moving around. I carefully flexed my shoulders. Even with all the extra padding, my butt ached almost as much as my head.

Peering around the human fence, Jazy took in the scene before her. She glared at John accusingly and shouted, “What the hell? I thought you said she wasn’t hurt!” Jaz called down to me, “Anabel, are you shot?”

I reassured her quickly. ‘No, we’re banged around some, but only The Hammer got shot. He’s dead.”

Whistling in admiration, Jazzy sang out, “Hallefuckin’luelah!” Then her voice turned wondering. “Tre, take a look at Bel. That’s gotta be The Hammer’s blood and guts totally covering her. How cool is that!”

“Waaay cool!” was Tre’s enthusiastic reply.

I vaguely heard Tre in the far recesses of my mind. I was looking down the length of my body. I heard more yelling start from the direction of the stairs and my mind registered Chief Jack had arrived, but only from a far-off galaxy in another world. Woozily, I was staring in growing horror at the sight of myself. There was wet, gooky stuff on me everywhere I could see. I twisted painfully to get a better look. It was on my chest and stomach, and continued down the length of me to my bare feet. My slacks were dark purple-red with it. I could not begin to imagine the origin of what some of the slimy chunks may be.

I was dizzy and gagging in disbelief that I had been laying here oblivious to the effluvium of the bloody gore I was coated with while we chit-chatted about concussions and whatnot. I swiped my dripping, sweating forehead with a forearm. Glancing at the glob of bloody, gelatinous substance now smeared on my bare skin, I started making tiny, gasping, squeaking noises. Tingling and swaying, I was comprehending it wasn’t sweat or perspiration I had on my face, in my hair, and drenching my body. It was the brains and blood and guts of Gustav Hammerschmidt.

Everything went black.

Chapter XX

“Haven’t Got Time For The Pain” by Carly Simon

Sunday, 11/18/12

3:45 PM

I survived the police investigation…barely. The yelling I’d heard was Chief Jack kicking Jazy and Tre out immediately from the third floor. Under escort, they were allowed to deliver and put away my groceries on the second floor. Once the evidence techs checked out the apartment, the two girls helped fainting me into the shower.

Yes, I have to face the unbearable truth and admit I fainted. The men upstairs are lucky I did that instead of tearing them apart from limb to limb, and then beating them over their heads with their own arms. It is seven hours later, and I am still shaking my head over Luke or Reg saying nothing about the filthy crud covering me from head to toe. Jack doesn’t count. Luke let me touch him, and actually held me in his arms. He voluntarily touched my hair and my face. I may have to reexamine the whole concept of thinking I know men, much less like them.

After taking Advil, I sat on the ledge seat in the shower under the hottest water I could stand. Above the noise of the pounding water, I told Jaz and Tre about The Hammer, and about Cheryl Crookston’s murder. I needed to be distracted from the slime I swear was still circling down my drain while I compulsively washed my hair for the fourth time.

When I was done, the girls left. They gleefully promised to contact Mac, Anna, Stella, Kenna, and Billy to share all the news occurring since last night. The store would be closed today, but. I was still planning on having our family dinner. I did beg them to tell everyone not to come over any earlier than four thirty this afternoon. I need to be alone and recharge my batteries. Then I’ll be ready to celebrate surviving another Final Destination attempt this weekend and give friendship support to Crookie; even if it kills me.

Happily, I was right about the shower diagnosis. After finishing scrubbing myself so shiny clean I squeaked, and after the pills kicked in, I was feeling more human. Then after repeated gargling, vigorous teeth brushing, and lavish applications of Japanese Peony body lotion, I finally got my sniffer back in order. I’ve discovered the hard way; actually not smelling death every second is necessary before you can start not thinking about it every second.

Chief Jack was ominously silent after shouting his orders at the girls, but anyone knowing him could tell he was in a towering, black rage. The cops and assorted personnel were busy on the third floor, but it was a solemn, carefully quiet busy.

In the organized confusion of the first hour after the police arrived; Luke and I were separated. With his special talent of observation, I knew he always had his eye on me wherever I was, even if we didn’t speak.

The County Attorney, Wade Patterson, showed up in my dining room to listen to Reg and I give our statements and answer questions on the shooting death of Gustav Hammerschmidt. Mr. Patterson is a high strung, anxious gentleman. When he saw Luke, a stranger leaning a shoulder against the wall and quietly listening, the head prosecutor of crimes in Rice County peevishly suggested Luke wait somewhere else.

Luke straightened up, pulled a chair out beside me, and quietly informed Mr. Patterson that he was representing me until it was determined conclusively that I didn’t need to hire a criminal attorney. This is how I found out Mr. Secretive has a law degree.

This announcement was a double-dipper of a good time for Chief Jack. His grim countenance lightened up briefly for the first time since arriving at seeing the stunned look on my face at Luke’s reply to Wade’s invitation to leave. Plus, Luke had no way of knowing Wade Patterson has been in love with my grandmother since before we were both born. Mr. Patterson is an old sweetheart, and while he’d probably draw the line at letting me get away with cold-blooded murder, even that is debatable if NanaBel is in town. Shooting a full clip at a known bad man in self-defense while being attacked in my own home is a slam dunk, even with a weapon not registered to me. I learned chances were high it was Reggie’s bullet that killed him first. As Chief Jack liked to say, this meeting was strictly for crossing the fucking T’s.

Once they were done with my interview, I made no effort to speak with Jack. He seemed to be avoiding me, too. I was okay with being alive due to my decision to trust my own instincts. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about his emotional well-being due to professional embarrassment, or whatever else was causing his mood. His insistence to keep me in the dark had almost accomplished that permanently. This was one of those times that my silence would speak much louder than any words.

My brother will try to lord it over me the rest of our lives that he saved me with one head shot compared to my ten fired below the belt. I informed him this would be true except for one fact. I was aiming based on my theory that most men’s brains are in their pants. He proved my theory by only needing one bullet in the man’s head. He was still thinking that over when he left.

I assured Reggie, in fact I insisted, that he should go home to shower and relax. I wasn’t up for cooking any breakfast right now. He said he’d be back for dinner and took off as soon as the cops were done with him. Turns out his head wasn’t sliced to ribbons because it never hit the glass, it was his shotgun that broke through the window. His head had been smacked hard against the wooden frame of the window when Moth Man landed on him. It stunned him insensible for a few seconds. It probably saved his life. The Hammer didn’t mess with him anymore, but came right after me.

Luke and John left soon after my brother. They were the first on the scene within seconds because they weren’t out ordering women for breakfast like I had grumpily imagined, but had been keeping my building under surveillance. It was too bad Gustav Hammerschmidt didn’t get the memo he was supposed to come from the outside to attack me.

Luke saw the turret window shatter. He was on the stairs when the first shots started. It was over by the time he burst into the attic. Like he’d told me earlier, he knew right away I was still alive. I was doing the croppy on the floor. I was wriggling like a fish out of water while trying to get my wind back and squirm out from being half buried under The Hammer’s revolting body. That image is nearly as pleasant for me to contemplate as fainting twice this weekend.

I don’t know what Luke was thinking about today’s events. He was closemouthed on the subject of The Hammer being overlooked in the police search when Reg brought it up. He was silent in general, he and John staying in the background as the police took over the scene. I was also keeping silent. This wasn’t the time or place to discuss any personal issues. I had a feeling this near death experience may drive home to Luke the necessity to lighten up on the macho madness with me in a way no casual discussion could ever get across. If not, he was too thick to ever get it.

When I was done being questioned, John waited by the stairs to leave while my unsolicited Solicitor took me aside in the foyer.

I didn’t say a word, but Luke held up a hand as if I had barraged him with a firestorm of questions. “I need to take care of some business, and then I’ll come back in an hour. We’ll talk about everything then.”

I shook my head. “No, please don’t come back before five tonight for dinner.”

Brows meeting in surprise, he rapped his knuckles against the arm of the church pew bench while digesting my blunt refusal.

“I know we have things to talk about, Luke, but I am simply not up to it. I’m all yours later tonight after dinner. Frankly, I’m not feeling very cooperative or compliant. You won’t be happy with anything I have to say right now.” I frowned up at him. “I know I won’t be happy with anything you have to say to me right now, that’s for sure.” I almost patted his jacket arm. “I’d love to really kiss you good-bye, but I know you are disgustingly smeared with dried gook in spots under your jacket. Please have a heart, get the hell out of here, and let me be alone a few hours.”

For some reason, Luke’s face lit up and he grinned broadly at my words. I heard a muffled snicker from the stairs and shot a questioning glare John’s way. His face was bland and he shrugged innocently. I sniffed. We still hadn’t been officially introduced, but I begrudgingly thanked him politely for his efforts on my behalf, fruitless as they were. He bowed slightly in return. Luke laughed as they departed down the stairs.

By eleven o’clock everyone was gone but the police. While the police followed their protocols and did their thankless, routine work; it felt good to keep busy doing my own thankless routine of work around the apartment.

The housecleaning service came on Fridays, but any woman worth her salt can always find a load of laundry that needs doing. I changed the sheets on my bed and did a pass of the guest bedroom before Crookie showed up. I found myself humming as I slowly worked. My head still hurt a little and I was going to be one sore, whining baby tomorrow, but it’s interesting how having a death threat off the table makes you appreciative of the mindlessly mundane.

Finally, the police left after taping closed the door to the attic. A few hours went by, and keeping busy also helped me sort my muddled thoughts. Not that I came to any great conclusions because I am still me. I don’t really want to change the status quo of having no definitive status quo in my life. Regardless of where Luke and I were headed, I knew I couldn’t take the “protect me for my own sake” attitude. It was a matter of trust, in my opinion, and nonnegotiable. I realized it may take some time, but Luke had to be willing to compromise on this--and mean it.

Anna texted her plan of the day was to break it off with Jim Mardsen this afternoon. Mum was the word on that score; Anna wanted to see Reggie’s face when he heard. Today, Mum was my middle name, so no problem there.