hand of hate 01 - destiny blues (4 page)

With a shaking hand, I slipped the key into the ignition, and started the car. I sure hoped the exterminator people could handle both these guys.
 

“You two better hope Merle gives me a discount.”
 

#
 

I drove to my apartment in Shore Haven, a lakeside suburb about three miles from Picston City Hall. As I changed out of my uniform, I remembered a Laundromat located a couple blocks from Merle’s. It would be an easy to do a few loads while I was at my appointment. Clever girl, Mattie.
 

With Four Starr Pest Abatement shut down for the foreseeable future, here were only two other places in town to go to get rid of demon breath. Tourists preferred the local fortuneteller experience of course, but I wanted a professional. Merle Shine had been in the pest control business for more than fifty years. They were a member of the Better Business Bureau and had a strict customer privacy clause right there in the contract. The best part was that they were located in Picston, so I faced less chance of running into anybody I knew.
 

The neat chignon I always wore to work now resembled a squirrel’s nest, so I brushed it back into a tight ponytail. I piled the laundry into the basket, and headed out to the car. I had almost an hour to kill before my appointment with Merle. This was going to work out just perfect.   
 

#
 

I drove with the windows rolled down and the radio turned up, determined to recover from my disastrous morning, singing along with Credence Clearwater Revival. Bad Moon Rising is one of my all-time favorites. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I thought I saw Blix bobbing his head to the beat, but couldn’t be sure.  
 

“Won’t be long now, boys,” I warned them.   
 

The car behind me honked, and I swerved back into my lane, red-faced.
Focus Mattie.
The trip back to Picston wouldn’t take long. Shore Haven is geographically separated from Picston by Sentinel Hill, which rises some six hundred feet above the lake shoreline. In the green months, my twenty-minute commute past dense woods and parkland was one of the highlights of my day.  
 

I drove past Merle Shine’s Pest Control on Seneca Avenue, about a mile past City Hall. As I cruised by, I checked out the parking lot, which looked pretty full. I still had twenty minutes before my appointment, plenty of time. I zipped past four more blocks to the Spanky Kleen Laundry, situated in a tired strip mall on the seedy edge of an industrial neighborhood. This was not a great part of town. My knees had stiffened up on the drive over and I hobbled inside with my dirty laundry.  
 

I’d never used this place before, and it wasn’t as nice as my usual spot, Tidy Whiteys. I debated leaving my undies unattended, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I filled the washers, added detergent, and fed my quarters into the slots. I was ready to go meet Merle.
 

I limped back out to my car, put on my seatbelt, and started up the engine. I released the parking brake and put the car in reverse before checking the rear-view mirror. I’d barely touched the gas pedal when I noticed a third djemon staring at me from the backseat.
 

I froze, my body clenched into a rigid spasm of revulsion. My foot stomped the pedal to the metal, and Trusty Rusty zoomed backwards across the parking lot. My hands gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled vise. A nausea of disgust washed over me, petrifying my foot on the gas. I prayed there was nothing behind me.  
 

With a loud bang, the car collided with something solid and bucked me right out of my seat. For the second time that day, velocity held me airborne. My stomach rolled and my foot slipped off the gas pedal. The car jerked to an abrupt stop beneath me and I slammed back to earth. The engine died without a whimper. The silence was deafening.  
 

CHAPTER 6
 

My heart pounded with a sick sensation. “Enough already, I can’t take this!” I shook myself against the steering wheel.  
 

No one seemed to have noticed anything. Fortunately for me, the strip mall did not appear to offer much in the way of commercial viability, as the parking lot appeared mostly empty, and no one had come running out to investigate. I checked the side mirrors, but didn’t see any bodies.  
 

I couldn’t believe how narrowly I’d escaped killing anyone. Twice. I forced myself to unclench and made a quick physical inventory. No new injuries, thank you very much. I rubbed the sweat off my face with a jittery hand.
 

“Look what you made me do, you little shits.” I glared at the stupid things behind me. The new guy reminded me of the bearded dragon lizard Lance kept as a pet when we were kids. Heavily-muscled jaws sported a wide reptilian smile. A regular Larry the Lizard. A fit of hysterical giggling came over me. In no time, I was cackling like a mad rooster. I clamped my hand over my mouth and closed my eyes.
Get a grip
.  
 

I climbed out of the car and gingerly walked around to inspect for damage. We hadn’t crashed or anything, but the Honda now straddled a cement parking block, and poor old Rusty had a flat. Dang.
 

I gave the tire a couple of halfhearted kicks, but it was kablooey. A nasty hole bloomed where the bald tire had blown out. I thought about the spare in the trunk, but I was worried about the time. An auto parts store stood two doors over. I debated going over and asking for help, but decided I didn’t need to mess around with this right now. If I didn’t start walking, I’d be late. That flat wasn’t going anywhere.  
 

“Looks like you could use some help,” my brother’s voice sounded behind me.     
 

My heart sank. Lance strolled toward me from the direction of the Vinnie’s Auto Parts. Oh boy, this was perfect.
 

We have different fathers, and except for our smiles, don’t appear related. I’m dark-haired with a natural tan. Lance is ten years older than me; tall and lean, with slicked-back blond hair curling around his ears. When he smiles, he gives Brad Pitt a run for his money. Most women tended to overlook the work-stained mechanics overalls and black fingernails. He carried a box of parts carelessly under one arm. What was he doing here?  
 

I looked around. “Where’s your car?”
 

He nodded toward the sleek torpedo shape of a vintage yellow Jag convertible. Must be a customer car.  Lance had practically raised me, and had been appointed my legal guardian when I was sixteen. Any other day, I would have been glad to see him, but not today, and definitely not at this particular moment. I had to get out of here.     
 

“What happened?”
 

A trickle of sweat rolled past my ear.  
 

“Ah, nothing. Just a little accident.” I choked back a giggle. “I ah, guess my foot slipped.”  
 

Lance set the box down on the pavement and leaned over to inspect my rear wheel; hung up on the wrong side of the parking block, and noted the flat. He took the keys out of my hand and opened the trunk without saying anything. I fidgeted impatiently as he lifted out the jack and tire iron.  
 

“Do we have to do this now? I’m kinda running late for something.”
 

Lance gave me a sharp look. Too late, I shouldn’t have said anything. If he suspected what I was up to, I’d never hear the end of it. I glanced down the street to where Merle’s sign beckoned to me.
 

“What are you doing here, Matt?” He appeared calm, his movements slow and sure as he loosened the lug nuts on Rusty’s rear wheel.  
 

I blew my breath out my cheeks.    
 

“Laundry.” I squeaked, and pointed to the Spanky Kleen. “I figured I’d try this place. What are you doing here?”
 

“This is not a good part of town. The police found another Night Shark victim half a block from here this morning.”  
 

So that was what sent them off in such a rush. “I had no idea. Thanks for the tip.” I edged closer to the sidewalk.  
 

Lance slipped the jack under the rear bumper and gave the lever a few slow pumps. I could tell he had something on his mind. I hoped he’d get to the point pretty soon.
 

“Listen, I’ve got an errand to run. Do you mind if I, ah--”
 

“I talked to Kip.”  
 

I kicked at the asphalt in frustration. “Why does he keep calling you? He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”   I could feel destiny slipping though my fingers.  
 

“You want to tell me about it?”
 

“No.” I struggled to keep my emotions off my face as I gave him my highly-edited short version, and he pretended to believe me.  
 

“Suspension isn’t so bad.”
 

Before I could answer, a black and white cruised up beside us. I gazed over into the grinning faces of Picston’s finest, Bart Kitterman and Jason Jaekel, better known as Heckle and Jeckle. Bart was a second-generation policeman, and the first boy I ever kissed. I’d known him all my life. Jason was a loudmouth jerk and Kip’s best friend.
 

I groaned. Any chance I had of getting to Merle Shine’s today had just about left the station. Sorry Merle. All that begging to get that appointment down the drain. Man oh man, could this day possibly get any worse? Of course the whole police department must have heard about my suspension by now. Probably the fire department, too.
 

“Hey look, it’s Mad Mattie,” Kitterman said. “What’s the problem, beautiful? Need some driving lessons?” They both hooted with laughter. I rolled my eyes and grinned in spite of myself.   
 

I used to wish Bart’s dad was my father. Hank Kitterman was the neighborhood cop who showed up when people complained about the noise every time Mom’s s drug-dealing ‘boyfriends’ beat the crap out of her. To me, police officers represented everything noble and respectable; they brought order to chaos. To a kid growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, Officer Kitterman was Superman. He’d inspired the dream in me to become a cop. I wanted to be just like him.
 

“Very funny.” I smoothed my hair. These two would show me no mercy.
 

“Hey, maybe all you need is some training wheels. I’ll ask my four-year old if you can borrow hers. You’ll like ‘em, Mattie, they’re pink.” Bart winked at me.  
 

“Don’t you two have crimes to investigate or something? Bad guys to arrest?”
 

“I’m lookin’ at you, Blackman,” Jason answered. “You wreak havoc and mayhem wherever you go.”
 

The smile faded from my face. “No donuts for you, Jerkle.”
 

“Is that the best you can do? You’re losing your touch.”  
 

“Now now, kiddies, play nice.”  Kitterman nodded to Lance. “Hey McNair, how’s it going?”
 

Lance stood and casually draped an arm over my shoulder. I leaned into him. I had to give Lance a lot of credit. He looked out for me, but never tried to make me feel like an idiot when he did so. Most of the time he hung back until I worked things out on my own. We both knew these guys enjoyed yanking my chain, but at this particular moment, I was glad to have Lance around. He raced motorcycles when he was younger, and in addition to being the best mechanic around, my brother was way cool.  
 

“We’re just about done here, fellas, but thanks for asking.” He let go of me and went back to the wheel. With an easy movement, he lifted the old tire off the axel and laid it on the ground, then picked up the spare and placed it into position with no apparent effort.  
 

“Lance told me you guys found another body today.”
 

Jason nodded.  “Not a pretty sight.”  
 

“We’re stepping up patrols in the neighborhood, looking for any suspicious activity.” Kitterman watched Lance with a speculative expression. The police radio bleeped out a garbled message, and then both officers went to work.
 

“Okay Mattie; we’ll leave you to your knitting. See you in the funny papers.” Kitterman grinned like the madman he was, and gave me a little toodle-oo finger wave. He gunned the engine and they sped off with lights flashing.  
 

I sighed and crumpled to the pavement next to Lance.
 

“Cop groupie.”
 

“Shut up, grease monkey.”
 

“Every time one of those guys shows up, you go all gaga.”
 

“My life is in the toilet and you call me names. Why can’t you do something constructive?”  
 

“I’m fixing your flat, lady. And you’re welcome. What’s the matter with you?”