Illusion of Luck (16 page)

She spun around as though a jewel thief had
robbed her of a priceless necklace.

“
What are you doing? Did you
just sniff my hair?”

He hesitated. “Yes. Chaucey, I need to tell
you something.”

“
No, no. Don’t.”

“
I’m in love with you.” He
wished he hadn’t blurted it out. He had wanted it to be
romantic.

“
No. I can’t do this,
Crow.”

“
Why not?”

“
I’ve got to go.” She
hurried out the door, and across to her apartment.

He wanted to run after her, but he knew it
would only make things worse. Had he just ruined everything? He
wanted her to be his girlfriend. But he didn’t want to destroy
their friendship.

Crow had finally reached out for her love.
But he had squeezed it too hard in his big, strong, clumsy hands.
He hated himself for upsetting her.

**********

Sandy was enjoying his nap so much he didn’t
want to wake up. He was on his side, and his back was cool. But his
front was cozy warm, against Rebecca. What an amazing dream. Her
firm butt felt wonderful nestled in his lap. And the feeling was
growing stronger by the second. His right arm was wrapped around
her, his hand gently cupping her right breast.

He began to massage her nipple with his
thumb. She moaned ever so faintly and arched her back slightly,
forcing her rear end tighter against him. He responded by pushing a
little harder against her.

It was unquestionably his best dream ever.
And it seemed so real.

There’s something about taking a nap in the
middle of the day when you’re dead tired. He could remember a
summer camping trip at the lake. That first day, after swimming all
morning and most of the afternoon, he took a nap before dinner. He
dreamed he was still in the water, floating around and playing
games with bright-colored fish. Thank goodness his mom woke him up
when she did. He was just about to pee in his pants.

How long would this dream
last? And how far would it go? He couldn’t wait to find out. Then
he heard Greg snore. Poor guy, he thought. But why was he hearing
Greg snoring? This was
his
sex dream—he didn’t want
Greg interrupting it.

But what if it
wasn’t
a dream? What
if he really was spooning Rebecca? What if he really was caressing
her breast?

She twitched, and he
realized—it was
not
a dream. He was a
dead man
. He
released her breast and pulled his arm back.

Rebecca sat up.

Sandy was frozen in the dark. He couldn’t
see anything. At any moment her fist would be launched toward his
head or crotch. And he’d never see it coming. But he deserved
whatever he got. He had gone way over the line. But, in all
fairness, he had thought he was dreaming. Would she buy that?
Doubtful.

“
It’s nighttime—almost seven
o’clock,” she said. “We’d better get up.”

Is that it? Sandy wondered. Or is she just
waiting for the right moment? He pictured the three of them at a
nice restaurant, talking and eating, when suddenly she would pick
up her steak knife and stab him right through the heart, and then
calmly and casually say, “I warned you.”

Or maybe she didn’t even
know what he had done. Maybe she had slept through it. Or…maybe
she
liked
it.

Chapter
21

“
We should check for another
chapter.” Greg was sitting on the side of the bed, still groggy
from the three hour nap.

“
I’m on it.” Rebecca already
had her laptop open at the table.

Sandy had not bothered to sit up yet.
“Anybody hungry?”

“
I thought for sure we’d
find his car if we checked all the apartments,” said
Greg.

“
Well, they’ve got some
fancy ones,” said Sandy. “Must be nothing but rich people living
around here. One place even had garages. At first we wondered where
all the cars were.”

“
Yeah, I ran across one of
those, too,” said Greg. “Did you go into the office and ask if they
had any new tenants?”

“
Yeah. They had a woman who
moved in this morning, so I figured it couldn’t be
them.”

“
But what if he made
Cynthia
do it? You
should have gone to the apartment and checked it out.”

“
Oh, we did.” He nodded at
Rebecca. “Miss Private Eye insisted.”

She didn’t even look up from the computer.
“I don’t take anything for granted.”

“
So, we met the woman and
her five cats,” said Sandy.

“
Single, huh?” said
Greg.

“
Oh yeah,” said
Sandy.

“
No new chapter,” said
Rebecca. “But we’ve got more comments. This Chaucey woman is still
after him.”

“
She’s gonna be plenty sorry
if she ever
catches
him,” said
Sandy.

“
He’s got a couple of lines
of that Old English junk we saw in his last comment. Then he’s got
this weird poem.”

Such a rare treat, I dare not waste it:
From yonder tree a delicious cherry.
Come forth and meet in the woods to taste it;
If you believe, make it one for three.

“
The guy is nuts,” said
Sandy. “But he thinks he’s some great poet.”

“
Most great poets
are
nuts,” said
Rebecca. “Actually, most of them are
dead
.”

“
But maybe it means
something,” said Greg.

“
So?” Sandy
yawned.

“
There might be some clues
in there somewhere,” said Greg. “He does mention
woods
in the poem.
Hopefully that means they
are
here in The
Woodlands.”

“
Where? We’ve already
checked all the apartments,” said Sandy.

“
We could try the
hotels.”

“
Yeah, but in the book he
said he rented an
apartment
,” said
Sandy.

“
Oh, this is interesting,”
said Rebecca.

“
What?” said
Greg.

“
I googled a line from this
Old English stuff. It’s not
Old
English—it’s
Middle
English.”

“
Well,
that’s
good to know,” said Sandy
sarcastically.

Rebecca ignored him. “It’s
from Chaucer’s
Canterbury
Tales
.”

“
And her name is Chaucey,”
said Greg.

Sandy sat up. “Okay, that’s pretty weird—but
I don’t see how it helps us.”

“
Let’s see…that particular
passage is from
The Franklin’s Tale: a
feast in the garden
.”

“
Wait,” said Greg. “Now
we’re getting somewhere—I think. In Larry’s poem, he talked about
meeting in the woods. The woods…a feast in the garden…a garden
feast woods…a feast in the garden woods…”

“
Oh, wow,” said Sandy.
“You’re right, Buddy. Now we know their
exact location
. They’re out in
the garden woods having a feast. And, of course, we know from the
poem that they’re feasting on a single cherry.
Yum—delicious.”

“
Yeah, that’s it, I think,”
said Rebecca. “And Cynthia is the cherry.”

“
What?” said Sandy. “I was
joking.”

“
And he wants Chaucey to
join them, to share the cherry,” said Greg. “He wants to have
a
threesome
.
That stinking pervert!”

“
Garden woods—weren’t there
some apartments with that name?” said Rebecca.

Greg reached into his pocket and pulled out
his crumpled list. “Yes. Gardenwoods Luxury Apartments. I remember
that place. It was the one with the garages.”

“
But you went into the
office and checked, right?” said Rebecca.

“
Yeah. And there
was
a guy who moved
in this morning. But the lady said he was foreign. She could barely
understand him. She thought he was from India or
Pakistan.”

“
What was his name? Did you
write it down?” said Rebecca.

“
No, but it was…Reebo…or
Reelo…or—“

“
Reevo?” said
Rebecca.

“
Yeah, that’s
it—Reevo.”

“
Do you remember the first
name?” said Rebecca.

“
Uh…”

“
Was it Enim?” said
Rebecca.

“
Yes—I think it was,” said
Greg.

“
How in the world did you
know that?” said Sandy.

“
Think about it,” said
Rebecca. “Enim Revo. Now turn it around backwards.”

Greg thought for a few seconds.
“Mine…over.”

“
Good. Now swap the two
words so that
everything
is backwards,” she
said.

“
Over mine,” said
Sandy.

“
Get it?” said Rebecca.
“Over mine…
Undermine
?”

“
Barry Undermine,” said
Greg.

“
This guy really loves to
mess with your head,” said Sandy. “He thinks he’s smarter than
everybody else.”

“
And so does Chaucey,” said
Greg. “They think they’re so smart that they can say whatever they
want because we dummies don’t have the intelligence to decipher
it.”

“
But we
did
. And now we know everything
but the apartment number,” said Sandy.

“
Hold on,” said Rebecca. “I
think he might have even given us
that
. He
had
to tell Chaucey so she could
join him, right? Listen to the last line of his poem.”

If you believe, make it one for three.

“
We thought he was referring
to a threesome, and maybe he is,” she said. “But it could have a
double meaning.”

“
Make it one for three…”
said Greg. “Make it 1-4-3. He gave her the apartment number:
143!”

“
Right,” said
Rebecca.

Sandy jumped up. “Let’s go get him!”

**********

They had decided to take one car—Greg’s red
1965 Pontiac Bonneville convertible. Sandy had suggested Rebecca
ride in front with Greg. But he wished the Bonneville didn’t have
bucket seats. He would have preferred sitting up front, with her in
the middle. Although, if his arm or leg had touched hers, he might
have gotten a hard elbow to the nose. Or maybe she would have
grabbed his head in both hands and planted a huge kiss on him.

“
Why didn’t he just get a
hotel room instead of an apartment?” said Sandy. “I mean—what’s he
using for furniture?”

“
Gotta be a furnished
apartment,” said Rebecca. “They’re great for business people that
need to hang around for a month or two—doing consulting or
whatever.”

“
So, what is he
thinking—that he’s going to set up housekeeping with Cynthia?”
said Sandy. “Surely he didn’t think he could kidnap her and then
make her want to be his live-in girlfriend or wife?”

“
He’s a wacko,” said Greg.
“How knows
what
he’s thinking.”

“
Well, apparently he’s
decided he needs more than just Cynthia,” said Rebecca.

Greg was quiet for a moment. “Unless…”

“
What?” she said.

“
Unless he doesn’t
have
Cynthia
anymore,” said Greg.

“
No, I’m sure she’s okay,”
she said.

“
But he killed your
partner,” said Greg.

“
Yeah, but Cynthia is
different. He loves her,” she said.

“
In his own sick way,” said
Sandy.

“
Here it is,” said
Greg.

“
Why don’t you drop me off
at the office,” said Rebecca, “and I’ll go in and make sure
apartment 143 belongs to Mr. Revo. Y’all go watch the apartment and
make sure he doesn’t get away.”

“
Okay,” said
Greg.

Good thing this was an expensive place,
Rebecca thought. At a typical complex, the office would be closed
at night.

“
Excuse me,” said
Rebecca.

The woman behind the counter gave her a look
that said, ‘You must have gotten lost, Lady, because you certainly
don’t look like you belong here.’ “May I help you?”

Rebecca realized how awful she must look
after spending all night and most of the day in a car and then
sleeping in her clothes. “Yes. I came to see a friend of mine, but
I’m not sure about the apartment number.”

“
Well, why didn’t you just
call her and ask her?”

Rebecca wanted nothing more than to jump
over the counter and bludgeon the snooty woman. “It’s a guy. And
my cell phone is—it’s a long story. His name is Enim Revo. I think
he said he was in 143. I just wanted to be sure.”