Die Smiling (13 page)

“Don't know yet. He'll probably make a decision in the next few hours. Do you think it should?”

“Yes. Hilde would want it to. I know that for a fact.”

“A fact? Why do you say that?”

“Because this other girl was killed once, just before a pageant, and everyone agreed it should go on. It did, and everyone dedicated it to her.”

My ears perked. My heart raced a bit. Bud leaned forward, on the same wave length, and asked, “When was this?”

“About two years ago, I guess. I happened to be down in Miami, visiting some friends. They found her in her car near Okeechobee Swamp, nude and strangled. It happened about a week ahead of the pageant.”

“Do you remember the victim's name?”

“Yes. She was a client of mine, too. Her name was Reesie Verdad. Cuban descent, gorgeous, with all this ebony hair and big glowing jet-black eyes. A nice girl. It was terrible, but they said she was into cocaine and messed with the wrong guys.”

I made a notation of the name and year. It bore looking into, especially if Charlie sent me to South Beach to check out Vasquez, and I was pretty sure he would. I thanked Mr. Race and watched him move off toward the staging area where the dressing rooms were. Bud's phone rang, and he moved off by himself to take the call.

“Excuse me, Claire, I was hoping we could speak for a moment.”

I turned and met the almond-shaped, green eyes of the ex-Jude-of-the-one-name and felt my insides cringe like I had to eat a worm. Whoa now, what was this all about? I had a feeling it was about one good-looking shrink with the bluest eyes this side of Frank Sinatra. And it seemed that Jude and I were already on a first-name basis. Not that she had any other names.

“Actually, I'm here today on official business.” Here we go again. My old standby,
official
, used to stave off the unwanted, unnecessary, unsavory.

Jude's smooth brow dented with concern, but still looked damn good. “I know, Nicky told me you were conducting interviews down here, so I came down, hoping to get a word with you. What a terrible thing to happen to that young girl! I didn't know her well, but I did meet her at another pageant. I thought she was very special.” She looked across the room at Bud. “I'd like to say hello to Detective Davis, too. He interviewed me last summer in New York, and Nicky said he had a close relationship with Hilde's sister. I lost my own sister when I was a child, so I know how she must feel.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” I didn't want to think about losing family members, so I played nice.

“Well, I'm glad I got to see you again, Jude.” See, I'm in a generous mood. As long as she didn't come on to Black in my presence, we'd probably get along just fine.

She smiled. I smiled. I was trying to get over the
Nicky
thing. I don't know why it bugged me for her to call him that. Okay, I'd called him that a couple of times myself, but I was usually being sarcastic. Nicky didn't fit my image of him, I guess. Sounded like something everybody called Steven Seagal in his dumb movies, except for that one I liked where he was in a coma for about a hundred years then got his muscles back overnight by lighting some incense candles on his body. Black, on the other hand, was a name that did my guy justice.

“Am I on the list for you to interview? Nicky wasn't sure. He said I should ask you.”

“You were acquainted with Hilde Swensen, right?”

“Yes. But not well. She was active in the business and successful, so her name was well known around the circuit.”

“I understand that she did some modeling as well as entering pageants.”

“I believe she did, yes. Mainly in the Miami and South Beach areas, I think. I never saw her in New York, but she could have been there from time to time.”

“Maybe I should ask you a few questions, if you've got a minute.”

I got out my trusty pad and pencil. She sat down beside me and crossed some very long, shapely legs encased at the moment in some very stylish black silk pants. A black silk blouse was unbuttoned far enough down her throat to alert me that she didn't have on a bra and that
Nicky
had probably had a lot of fun in the cleavage arena when they were a marital duo.

“I hope we'll get to be friends, Claire. I can tell you, and you might be surprised at what I'm going to say, but I do wish you and Nicky well. This is the happiest I've seen him in a long, long time.”

So what the devil was I supposed to say now? “Thanks, ma'am, for letting me know how I stand in your regard.” or “Yeah, I make everyone happy like that.” So I said, “Is that right?”

She laughed softly, and to my surprise, it sounded downright genuine. And I knew a genuine laugh when I heard it. “You bet. I tried but I just didn't have what it took to intrigue him the way you do.”

Intrigue him, huh? I debated if that was sarcasm and decided to make light of it. “He's just impressed with all my bullet wounds.”

She laughed again and didn't seem the least bit catty or two-faced, not that I could tell for sure yet. I haven't hung around with any of my lovers' ex-wives before, though, and in fact, I haven't had many lovers before, period. But I am pretty good at detecting phonies and snobs because I hate them worse than a mug full of arsenic. Jude wasn't snooty, either. But I wasn't really surprised that Black had chosen to wed a nice woman. He was pretty good at judging character and picking girlfriends, if I say so myself. However, our conversation was getting way too personal, so back to official business we go.

“Did you ever spend personal time with Hilde Swensen, Jude? For instance, did you ever go out to dinner together or to a movie? You know, just hang out together, girl talk, stuff like that?”

“Not really. We didn't know each other that well. We did have lunch once at the same table—at the Miami Four Seasons. It was the pageant mixer, but we never discussed anything remotely personal. She asked me questions about how to break into modeling in New York. I do remember that much.” She gazed into my eyes. Hers were like, well, exotic, I guess you'd say, and the pupils were large and dark because of the dim lighting. I could almost see my reflection in them. She smiled again. “I do hope I haven't made you uncomfortable talking about Nicky.”

So Jude was astute, too. “Don't worry, it takes a whole lot to make me uncomfortable.”

“It's just that he speaks so highly of you. And I can't tell you how much I admire you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I've read all the newspaper accounts about your career. You're very good at your job. I always thought I'd like to be a police officer. Modeling can be so tedious. It's hard work, don't get me wrong, but we certainly don't help people in trouble the way you and Bud do.”

Her whole spiel sounded just so sappy, but I forced myself not to agree out loud with wholehearted conviction. I envisioned her as Starsky to my Hutch. It didn't go down well. She'd probably wear a Moroccan leather holster lined in purple paisley silk by Prada and snap shiny, solid-gold, diamond-studded handcuffs on all her perps. Hell, perps would probably line up for her to run them in and want their mug shot taken with her.

Well, okay, hating her guts, which I'd expected I'd do, was out for the moment. She was being honest, I could tell, and she admired police officers. What more could I want? Shock of the universe, I couldn't find fault with the famous Jude, which was highly unlike me. We probably could've been friends if it weren't for that one tanned and muscular hunk thing we had in common.

Jude was not finished. “I'm sure there's no need for me to tell you this, because I can tell you're about as self-assured as they get, but I want you to know that Nicky is absolutely crazy about you. I mean, his eyes actually light up when he talks about you. He said you make him happy. He said his life didn't start until he met you.”

Jeez, now I was really squirming in the saddle because that life starting thing sure didn't reflect well on her, the first wife, now did it? But hey, was that a neat thing for him to say about me, or what? I glanced around, hoping Bud would get off the phone and come fawn over Jude. I didn't know what to say, so I returned to business. “Well, I guess that wraps up all the questions I have for you. If you think of anything else, please give us a call at the sheriff's office.”

Black chose that time to enter the room, his entourage of highly attractive employees awash in his wake. When he caught sight of our little tête-à-tête, he came straight for us, no doubt concerned she was filling me in on all his syrupy compliments about me.

“I've decided to postpone the pageant until next week. I've offered the contestants a free stay at Cedar Bend until then. That way the girls who want can attend Hilde's services.” He looked at me as if soliciting my approval.

So I said, “Okay.”

Jude said, “I might have to reschedule an appearance in Los Angeles and go back to New York for a day or two, but I'll do my best to be back in time to judge.”

Great, an extra week with an ex-wife living in Black's apartment. But then again, that would place Black in my house, at my disposal, which definitely had its perks.

“Claire and I have been getting to know each other,” Jude said, smiling like that was true.

Black said, “That's good.” His eyes were on me, however, saying,
Or is it?

I said, “Jude knew Hilde. Did you know that?”

Black looked surprised. “Really? How?”

Jude shrugged a graceful shoulder. It made the great big, dime-size diamond studs on her ears wink and blink at me. “We met at a pageant mixer. I hardly knew her, actually.”

One of Black's cell phones rang and he moved away to take the call, and I began to wish I was more popular with callers. I decided it was time to escape. “Well, nice talking with you, Jude. Bud and I need to wrap up these interviews and get back to the station.”

“I hope we'll see each other again soon. Maybe the three of us can have dinner together one evening while I'm here.”

Yeah, right, just what I'd been dreaming of. I said, “That would be very nice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I better get back to work.”

After that first time, the older one met the boy often. Later, after his father returned home and wasn't playing golf on the weekends, they would meet secretly in a large Winnebago camper that his dad used for hunting and fishing trips. It was parked inside a specially made garage behind the pool house. These visits to the boy's house were like reprieves for the older one, and it was wonderful to be around somebody who liked her and was helping her look pretty. Nobody knew where she went after school and on weekends, and nobody seemed to care. Soon it would be summer vacation, and they could spend even more time together.

On one particular day they planned to play Dungeons and Dragons again because it had become their favorite game, but when she arrived, she was surprised to find that the boy's twin sisters were sitting at the Winnebago's dining table with him.

“It's okay, they won't tell Mom and Dad.”

The boy frowned darkly at his little sisters as a warning, and they nodded solemnly. They were pretty little things, but it still didn't matter. They weren't as pretty as Sissy. “I'm Sissy's sister, you know, the one who always beats you at the beauty contests. Did you know that?”

“Yes. We hate her.” They spoke it together, almost in unison.

“I know. Everybody does. She's a horrible little brat.”

The three of them smiled together, and then the boy said, “Okay, let's play. We'll figure out new characters for everybody. I'll be the Dungeon Master, of course. And I already have figured out some of the quests. It'll be fun, you'll see.”

Instead of being wizards and dragons, they decided to be film characters. The boy insisted on being Freddy Krueger.

“He's my favorite character, and I've already got the costume. The rest of you can be Jason and the other bad guys, or whoever you want. We'll scare people we don't like.”

They all agreed, and the older one found that the two little girls were not at all like Sissy. They were actually rather sweet, and they seemed to like her. They even admired the way her freckles were beginning to fade.

“Don't forget that you can't get out in the sun or they'll come back,” one of them told her. “Mom always gives us sun-block to wear on our faces.”

The boy smiled at the older one, in a way he did so often now. She felt her face grow hot and knew she was blushing. He said, “I've got an idea. Let's make a quest to scare Sissy. We all hate her, and she's an evil little bitch. Go ahead, tell my sisters what all she does to you.”

So the older one began to tell them about the bathtub and the makeup and the Barbie dolls and the time Sissy pushed Bubby down the stairs and the older one got a terrible whipping from Stepdaddy. She told the boy and the twins things she had never told anybody, and their faces grew more and more sympathetic.

“She's really mean,” said one twin.

“She deserves to be whipped,” said the other.

The boy frowned and said, “Okay, let's think up a way to scare her really bad, to make her think she's actually gonna die.” He turned to the older one. “She's always making you feel bad and getting you in trouble. Let's see how she likes it.”

They began to plan what they would do to Sissy, and the boy had lots of good ideas that he could make into quests for each girl. By the time the quests were decided upon, the older one felt happier than she had in a long, long time. She was finally going to get Sissy back for all the mean things she'd done. She couldn't wait.

The first quest was for the boy to complete, but the older one was going to have to help him get Sissy alone. So she listened carefully to his instructions and walked home smiling because Sissy was going to get hers very soon.

The minute she got home Momma started yelling at her from upstairs. “Where have you been? You know Russell and I are going out to dinner tonight. You're supposed to watch Sissy and Bubby, so you get in there right now and watch them in the tub while I finish getting ready. Russell will be home soon to pick me up.”

The older one went into the bathroom, and Sissy made a face at her. Both of the children were in the tub together, and the older one knelt beside the tub and began to lather Bubby's arms and back. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Where've you been?” Sissy demanded. “I know you're sneakin' off all the time to do something bad and you better tell me what it is.”

Still smiling at her brother, the older one ignored her. Soon it would be payback time, and Sissy would be sorry for all the things she'd done to Bubby and her.

“You better tell me, or I'll make up something and tell Momma and she'll lock you up in the barn.”

“All right, I'll tell you. I go down to the river and read a book. I'm reading a Shakespearean play now. I'm sure you know what that is.”

By the expression on Sissy's face, the older one knew Sissy didn't have a clue about the English playwright and that pleased her, too. The boy was teaching her a lot of things that she had never even dreamed existed. Things that her momma and stepdaddy didn't know, either.

“You're lying. Tell me the truth or you'll be sorry.”

Ignoring her sister, the older one carefully rinsed the soap out of Bubby's strawberry-blond ringlets. He sat calmly and allowed it. He was a good kid and never caused trouble for anybody.

“That's a good boy, Bubby,” she whispered softly. “You're a good boy. I love you, and you love me, don't you?”

The little boy nodded, but Sissy moved so fast that the older one barely had time to react. She had Bubby by his hair, pushing his head under the water. She was laughing at the way his legs were splashing, and the older one grabbed her and shoved Sissy until she let go and fell back into the water herself. Both kids came up sputtering and screaming, and then Momma was there and Sissy was screaming accusations.

“She's tryin' to drown me and Bubby. She hates us, she hates us!”

Momma grabbed the older one by the hair and dragged her down the steps and outside to the backyard. The older one screamed and fought, but Momma was too strong. Momma pushed her into the barn, slammed and bolted the door, then picked up Stepdaddy's rawhide riding crop hanging by the door.

“No, Momma, no, please…Sissy did it, she did it, I didn't…”

“Shut up, you little bitch.”

Momma raised the crop and the girl felt it whip down on her bare thigh. She felt the agonizing pain, saw the blood oozing from a long thin cut and she scrambled away on her hands and knees, but her mother followed, striking her over and over again. Her white blouse was torn in back, and she could feel blood running down her back.

“Please, Momma, don't…I'll be good…”

Momma grabbed her by the hair and forced her up the steps to the loft. “You can just get in the punishment box and stay there, forever, for all I care.”

The girl hurried to obey before the whip came down on her again, crawling quickly into the low wooden box. Momma snapped the padlock shut, and the girl peered out through the bars. She had been imprisoned here one other time, when Momma had found out that her real daddy didn't want her. But now she was glad to be there, safe from the whip and Momma's rage.

Momma climbed down the steps, and the older one could hear her locking the barn door. She began to cry as she tried to stop the bleeding on her thigh. She felt so bad that she began to wish she were dead. It would be better then, so Momma couldn't hurt her anymore.

Momma left her there all night and all the next day. She could hear Sissy and Bubby playing on the swings, and once Sissy yelled something ugly through the window at her, but she didn't care. She had finally wet herself, and she was hungry and her legs hurt from being bent and cramped up. When her Momma finally came after her, she walked slowly back to the house behind her, and Momma said, “I hope you've learned your lesson, girl. And don't be thinking to complain about your punishment to Russell when he comes home. He's already mad at you for making us miss dinner last night.”

The older one didn't cry, didn't react to Sissy's gloating look, or Bubby's frightened one. She walked upstairs and shut the bathroom door and cleaned herself up. She stared at her dirty face in the mirror, and she vowed that she would kill Sissy and her Momma someday, in the worst way possible, and she would laugh while she did it.

 

The older one met the boy and his sisters about a week later. She hadn't dared get in trouble again. Even Stepdaddy was harsh with her, now that he thought she had tried to harm his precious son. He warned her to stay away from him and his children, or else. So she kept away and to herself.

When she finally could, she went to the boy's house and climbed into the Winnebago. The others were playing the game, and he was dressed in his Freddy costume. They were glad to see her and gathered around, and she was so touched by their friendship that tears welled up and she began to weep.

Then she told them everything, and the story spilled out in all its dirtiness and ugliness, and they sat staring at her, shocked, and then angry, when they saw the healing stripes on her legs and back.

“Your own Momma did that to you?” one of the twins said in disbelief. “She really did hit you with a whip?”

But it was the boy who was the most angry. He took her hand and held it and then he said, “We're gonna get Sissy for this. And your Momma, too. We'll make a quest right now, a way to hurt them back, to make them pay for what they did to you.”

“Momma will tell your parents, and she'll whip me again. She's turned everyone in the family against me. They all hate me. And I hate all of them. I wish I could kill them.”

The boy looked at her then at his sisters. “Okay, let me think of the best way to do it.”

She stared at him, wondering if he truly meant it. “You mean kill them, really?”

“Yes, that's what you want, isn't it?”

She stared at him, a little shocked that he said it so casually. And then she thought how it would be without Sissy and Bubby and her Momma and Stepdaddy. “I would be all alone.”

“No, you'd have us.”

“How could we kill them?”

“We'd make it look like accidents. People get killed in accidents all the time. I read about it in the papers, and it's on the evening news, too.”

“But how? We're just kids. I don't know how to kill anybody.”

“Neither do I, but let me think on it. I don't make the A-plus honor roll every time for nothing, you know.”

His little sisters laughed and clapped and said they'd like to see her Momma dead and gone forever. The older one frowned, not sure she really wanted to kill her mother, after all, even though she did hate her, sometimes she loved her, too, sometimes she just wanted Momma to love her back and be nice and tell her she was pretty.

“I don't think I want to kill them, but I want to pay Sissy back.”

The boy looked disappointed for a moment, then he said, “Then let's scare the hell outta her. I just got a good idea. It can be our next quest—a quest of vengeance against your sister.”

So the four of them sat there and planned it, and the more she heard about it the more excited she became. It could work. It really could, and so she walked home with the videocassette and a bundle of clothes in her backpack, and strange, dark joy in her heart.

That night when her parents went out to play bingo, the older one got out the videotape and took it into the den. She shut the door and told Sissy she couldn't watch it, and just as the boy had predicted Sissy barged in and said she could, too, or she was going to tell Momma on her.

“Okay, I guess I have to let you, but you're gonna be scared,” she said. She pushed the cassette in, and
The Nightmare on Elm Street
began to play. By the end of it, Sissy was scared to death, her blue eyes round and terrified, and the older one smiled to herself, thinking that she hadn't seen anything yet.

“I told you not to watch it.”

By bedtime, they were both drowsy and Bubby was already in his bed fast asleep. They went into their room and lay down, and it wasn't long before Sissy was snoring with her mouth open. But the older one stayed awake, waiting. At one o'clock her parents came home, and she could hear them downstairs for a while until Momma came upstairs to kiss Sissy good night. Then all got quiet but the older one lay there, grinning, and waiting for the hands on the clock to point to three.

“Nightmare time, dear little Sissy,” she whispered. She rose from her bed and softly raised the window. She looked outside and could see the boy on the ground below. He waved, and she could see his teeth shining white in the moonlight. She quickly dressed in the boy's Freddy Krueger costume, pulled the orange-and-blue striped sweater down over her nightgown, put on the mask and then the horrible glove with blades for fingers. She tiptoed to the door, listened, but knew her parents were sleeping behind their closed door on the second floor.

Then she began to chant Freddy's little rhyme in a hoarse whisper, just like the boy had instructed. She waited until Sissy sat up in bed, and then she switched on the flashlight beam right under her chin. Sissy let out the most bloodcurdling scream imaginable, and the older one swiped down at her with the deadly glove. Sissy leapt from the bed and tore down the hallway, screaming bloody murder, and the older one laughed to herself, tore off the costume, and tossed it all out the window to the boy. She flung out the videocassette, too, shut the window, and climbed back into bed.