Alarums (16 page)

    'Not at all. It tells me a lot about you and Melanie - this thing she has about you. It's been putting a certain strain on me, you know.'

    'I can imagine. I'm sure she thinks we just can't wait to jump in the sack together.' Immediately, Pen wished she hadn't said that. She felt a heat wash over her face. 'Let's get back to her visions,' she said.

    'Right. Her visions.'

    'She's had at least two that were totally off: Steve and I, and the airliner that didn't blow up.'

    'She doesn't believe she was wrong about you and Steve,' Bodie said, 'but you'd think the business about the airliner explosion would've shaken her faith a bit.'

    'You'd think so.'

    'Well, this thing tonight has her absolutely convinced that Harrison 's the one who ran down your father. She's also sure that Joyce helped set it up. And she plans to do something about it.'

    'Like what?' Pen asked.

    'She said, "They're gonna pay." '

    'She's thinking about revenge?'

    'It looks that way.'

    'Oh, Jesus.'

    'That's why I had to talk to you. I think we need to do something.'

    'Maybe you'd better take her back to Phoenix.'

    'I don't think she'd go along with that.'

    'What's your idea, then?' Pen asked.

    'The main thing is, we need to keep an eye on her.'

    'She's never been violent. That I know about.'

    'Nobody ever tried to kill her father before.'

    'We don't know that they…'

    'She knows. She's absolutely certain. And I think there's a possibility that she's right. Those visions of hers have been on the mark more often than not.'

    'I'd say they're about fifty-fifty.'

    'I think she's right about those two being lovers. What do you think?'

    'I'm not convinced,' Pen said, 'but I have my suspicions.'

    'If they are, it's conceivable that they did decide to eliminate your father.'

    'That's pretty hard to buy.'

    'People commit murder every day.'

    'I know that.'

    'And the people they kill, more often than not, are friends or members of the family.'

    Pen nodded. 'I've done some research on the subject.'

    Bodie shrugged the comforter off his shoulders and leaned forward, elbows on knees. 'I'm not saying they're guilty. The thing is, Melanie thinks they are. She might or might not be right, but there's a strong chance she'll do something about it. I say we not only keep an eye on her, we help her.'

    'Help her do what?'

    'Nail them,' Bodie said.

    'What?'

    'Only we control Melanie, we channel her… First, we convince her that the vision isn't enough. Then we offer to help investigate. I think she'll go along with that.'

    'And do we investigate?'

    'Just some minor-league snooping. Who knows? We might actually turn up some evidence.'

    'Fat chance.'

    'If we do, we take it to the police. If we turn up zilch, at least we've kept Melanie out of trouble for a while, and maybe she'll even end up convinced they had nothing to do with it.'

    'One problem. I'm not supposed to know about this vision she had, and I don't imagine she'd be overjoyed to find out you snuck into my bedroom to fill me in.'

    'Tell her that you're suspicious. Right now, she thinks you'd take Joyce's side.'

    'Did she say that?'

    Bodie nodded.

    'I guess I can't blame her.'

    'But if you let her know that you have doubts of your own about Joyce, I think she'll see you as an ally and confide in you.'

    'It's like conspiring against her.'

    'Joyce?'

    'Melanie.' She sighed. 'I don't know. If we start looking for clues or whatever, we might just end up feeding her delusion.'

    'If it is a delusion.'

    'Yeah, if. And if she's right, I'd be as anxious as anyone to see those two get what's coming to them.'

    'Tell Melanie that.'

    'Maybe I'd better.'

    'I think she'll be glad to know you're with her.'

    'Maybe.'

    Bodie stood up. 'I'd better get out of here.' He lifted the comforter and carried it to the foot of Pen's bed. 'Talk about feeding delusions… if she woke up and found out I was over here…' He put the comforter on the bed. 'She'd never, no way, believe it was innocent.'

    'I don't know how innocent it was.'

    Bodie's eyes widened.

    'I didn't mean that.' Again, she felt herself blush. 'I meant the way we're plotting against her.'

    Bodie nodded and went to the door. He paused with a hand on the knob, and looked back at Pen. 'The times are out of joint,' he said.

    'I think that should be Melanie's line.'

    He smiled. 'Goodnight, Pen.'

    'Goodnight.'

    

    

    Melanie was not in the room.

    Bodie snuggled down and shut his eyes again. The bed felt too warm and cozy to leave. Briefly, he wondered where Melanie had gone.

    Then he pictured Pen in her room last night sitting cross-legged on her bed: her mussed golden hair, her blue eyes, the light sprinkle of freckles across her nose. He saw the shiny blue pajama shirt open at her throat, the way it lay smooth over the mounds of her breasts and how it draped her lap. The pants legs were stretched taut to her knees. Her ankles were slim and bare.

    Bodie ached as he lingered on the image of her. If only… If only what?

    Maybe if she had started to cry. She hadn't been close to it, though. But if she had cried, he could've comforted her - moved to the bed and put an arm around her, and she would've turned to him. He could've held her gently as she wept. Kissed her.

    God, to kiss her. Just to hold and kiss her.

    Thinking about it made a hollow ache in his chest.

    
Don't worry, Melanie,
he thought,
it'll never happen.

    
If Whit dies…

    
Nice thought. Damn.

    But to hold her, to kiss her.

    He remembered his shock of alarm when Pen had asked, last night, if he was cold. For just an instant he'd feared - and hoped - that she would ask him to come to the bed.
No funny stuff,
she would've said.
Promise? Oh, yes.

    It didn't happen.

    Nothing happened.

    Not quite nothing. She hadn't told him to go away. They'd sat for a long time, alone in her room, she in her pajamas and he in his robe, and they'd talked. She'd told him things, shared secrets. There had been an intimacy to it all.

    
Thank God for Melanie's vision. Without that for an excuse… It was not an excuse,
he told himself. It was his reason for going to her room.

    His intentions had been entirely honorable.

    
But God, what if something had happened!

    
It didn't. It won't. Don't even think about it.

    Suppose she'd said, 'Bodie, I've been lying awake thinking about you, wishing you were here with me. I love you. I can't help myself.'

    With a moan, he tossed his covers aside and got out of bed. When he was dressed, he stepped into the hallway. The bathroom door was shut. He heard water running -someone about to take a bath? So he combed his hair in the bedroom, then went downstairs.

    From the silence, he guessed that nobody else was around. Someone had been in the kitchen, though. He poured himself a mug of hot coffee.

    On the center of the kitchen table was a note folded in half to make it stand like a tent. Bodie picked it up.

    

    

    
Hi!

    
I've gone to Mass and I have some errands to run. Expect me when you see me. Make yourselfs at home. Their's bacon and eggs in the fridge as well as coffee cake in the freezer. So help yourselfs.

    
Love,

    
Joyce

    

    

    
Good speller,
Bodie thought, and put the note down.

    Gone to mass? That would mean she's Catholic. Will you be confessing today, Joyce? And what sort of sins will you be whispering in the Father's ear? Adultery? Attempted murder?

    Beyond the glass door, the patio was bright with sunlight. Bodie stepped to the door. He gripped its handle. He saw Pen off to the left, reclined on a lounger and reading a paperback. She wore a blue and yellow plaid blouse and white shorts. Her legs were stretched out, long and slender, her bare feet crossed at the ankles. She had a coffee mug in one hand.

    Bodie wanted to go out there and pull up a chair beside her.

    What could it hurt?

    He didn't know what it could hurt, but maybe she wanted time to herself and maybe Melanie would put in an appearance full of suspicion and maybe he had just damn well not find himself alone with Pen first thing in the morning.

    So he backed away from the door.

    He carried his coffee mug into the living room.
The Sunday Los Angeles Times
was on a lamp table. He searched through it until he found the book section, then sat on the couch to read it while he drank his coffee and waited.

    When his mug was empty, he returned to the kitchen. He filled it. He stepped to the door and looked out again. Pen was still on the lounger. Her knees were drawn up, and she held the book open against her thighs. Her hair glinted in the sunlight.

    With a sigh, he turned away. He took his coffee back to the living room and sat down.
This is crazy,
he thought,
and I'm a rat. She's Melanie's sister, for Godsake.

    
I haven't done anything.

    
And I'd better not.

    It would probably blow up in my face, anyway. Even if Pen were interested in me (a damn big if), she's loyal to Melanie. Look what happened when that Steve character put moves on her.

    Bodie found the newspaper's 'Calendar' section and began to look at the movie ads.

    

    

    Then Melanie came down the stairs. She wore her tan corduroys and a gray sleeveless sweatshirt with the neck stretched out so it hung below one shoulder. Her choker was black.

    'Where is everyone?' she asked as she approached him.

    Bodie stood up. 'I don't know where your sister is. Joyce went to mass.'

    'Mass?' She smirked.

    'All squeaky clean?' he asked, and stroked the back of her head. Her thick black hair felt damp. She moved against him, and they kissed. Her hands slipped into the rear pockets of his pants. As they rubbed him, Bodie eased his own hands under her sweatshirt. Her skin felt smooth. There were no straps. He ran his hands up and down her back. Velvety. Warm. Bare. She felt wonderful and she was his and he was nuts to want Pen when he already had Melanie. He pushed a hand beneath the waistband of her cords.

    'Aren't you ever not horny?' she whispered against his lips.

    'Not when you're around.'

    She smiled slightly. She kissed him again, then eased away. 'I wonder if the bitch left us something to eat.'

    'Bacon and eggs in the fridge, coffee cake in the freezer.'

    They headed for the kitchen.

    'She sure got out of here early,' Melanie said.

    'Think she's avoiding us?'

    'I'd avoid us, if I were her.' Melanie lifted the note off the kitchen table. 'Mass. That's rich. Wants us to think she went off to pray for Dad?'

    'Maybe she did.'

    'Yeah, to pray he dies.'

    Bodie stepped over to the door. 'Oh, there's Pen. I wonder if she's eaten yet.'

    'Ask her.'

    

    

    He slid open the door. The sound made her look around. 'Good morning,' he said.

    'Hi, Bodie.'

    His heart beat a little faster. 'Are you hungry?'

    Nodding, she swung her legs off the lounger and stood up. Bodie caught himself staring at her legs as she walked toward him. He turned away.

    'It's wonderful out there,' she said and entered the kitchen. 'I never sit out at my place.'

    'Maybe you can find a new apartment with a private patio,' Melanie said.

    'I should try. Sleep well?' she asked.

    'Fine,' Melanie answered.

    'Me, too,' said Bodie. 'Zonked right out.'

    "The jacuzzi will do that to you. That and the booze.' She met Bodie's gaze and looked away. 'I was out like a light.'

    'Did you see Joyce's note?' Bodie asked.

    'Guess she's making herself scarce. Who could blame her?'

    'What do you mean?' Bodie asked.

    'Just that she can't be very comfortable around Dad's family. She's obviously sleeping with Harrison, after all.'

    'I thought you didn't believe that,' Melanie said. 'What changed your mind?'

    'Being around her, I guess. I can't even put my finger on it, but there's something about her. Maybe the way she's been acting - I don't know - ingratiating. It's as if she has a guilty conscience so she's bending over backwards to be sweet. You add that to the fact that Harrison was here yesterday morning… and what you told me about the bed.' Pen frowned at her sister. 'It makes me think that maybe you've been right about her all along. She wouldn't be sleeping with Harrison if she loved Dad.'