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Authors: Stacey Coverstone

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BOOK: Line Dancing Can Be Murder
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She nibbled her lip. “He pulled me into the ladies bathroom and locked the door. I thought that was pretty exciting, just like in the movies. Then he pressed me against the wall and we kissed and his hands roamed all over my body. I felt like I’d fallen into a dream. It’s been so long since a man has touched me, and Keith is so…so handsome. I couldn’t believe he was attracted to me.” She drew in a deep breath.

“Turns out he wasn’t attracted to me at all. It was all about a stupid bet he’d made with Wayne. I overheard them talking early the next morning before breakfast when they thought no one was around. Keith told Wayne I was the first farm animal he’d ever had sex with. They both laughed, and I was so humiliated I could have died. I’ve felt sick to my stomach ever since.”

“Did you have sex with him in the bathroom?” Kim asked.

Crystal shook her head emphatically. “No. We just made out like a couple of horny teenagers and then I put the brakes on. I was afraid of getting caught. He lied to Wayne about having sex with me. I’m disgusted and angry about that, but the part that causes me the most pain is…”

“We know,” I said. “You don’t have to repeat it.” Sighing, I looked at Donna, hoping she’d make her own confession so as to show Crystal and Annette they weren’t the only ones Keith had hurt.

“Keith took advantage of me, too,” she said, meeting my gaze. After explaining her situation about him scamming her out of her savings, I looked at Kim.

“What’s he holding over your head?” I asked.

At first she denied anything. “Keith didn’t do anything to me.”

“We’re your friends,” I reminded her. “We’re not going to judge you. We want to help if you’re in trouble. You can trust us.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re insinuating,” she said stubbornly.

I didn’t have time for games. “Kim, I overheard Keith question you twice about your shopping habits, and the last time he threatened to call the police. You acted strangely in the gift shop in Utah, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that box in your closet back home. What did Keith threaten to expose?”

It took some time, but she finally admitted she’d been shoplifting for close to a year. “I don’t know why I do it,” she said. “It’s not like I need any of the things I take. It’s a thrill, I guess. I feel powerful when I steal something, even if it’s a ridiculous ink pen. The more I get away with it, the more risks I take.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “Keith saw me take something and threatened to call the police and turn me in if I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” I was going to toss my cookies if I heard he’d forced her to sleep with him.

“He wanted money in return for his silence, so I gave him all I had to spare. But that wasn’t enough. He made me withdraw more from my account at an ATM. I’m still afraid he won’t keep his end of the bargain and I’ll be arrested. Every time I hear a siren, I think he’s called the cops. I’m a stressed-out basket case.”

I had a pretty good idea as to why Kim shoplifted. It didn’t take a psychoanalyst to understand that this was clearly a psychological issue for her. It had nothing to do with greed or poverty. Shoplifting was about struggling with her own personal conflicts and needs. “Kim,” I said, “I think I speak for all of us when I say we love you and we want to help you. The first step is for you to recognize you have a problem and then get counseling for it. You can’t continue this behavior or you
will
end up in jail. This is serious.”

My friends nodded their agreement.

“I know,” she said. “In the beginning, shoplifting made me feel in control, but everything has gone haywire and I feel worse than ever. I’m turning fifty, and I have no husband and no children. Eddie’s a bum who doesn’t love or respect me enough to marry me. I’ve wasted my life.”

“It’s never too late for change. Are you willing to start counseling when we get home?” I asked.

“You have no choice,” Jackie chimed in, grabbing Kim’s hand. “I will personally call and make the first appointment and drive you to the shrink myself. We can’t lose you, Kim, to depression or jail, or whatever. You’re too important to us.”

“To all of us,” Annette reiterated.

“Thank you,” she replied, squeezing back tears. “I’ll go for counseling. I’m tired of living a double life. I want to be free and happy, like when we were kids.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Jackie said. “Life was great before men entered the picture.” She slipped a cigarette from the pack in her purse and lit it up. After blowing some smoke rings into the air, she said, “Are you guys ready to hear my sob story involving our infamous tour director?”

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Decisions, Decisions…

 

Jackie had invited Keith to her room for a drink on the night of the rodeo in Utah. She’d flirted with him all day, and yes, she confessed to planning on having sex with him while we were all gone. But when he’d gotten a little rough and verbally abusive during foreplay, she’d changed her mind quickly. When asked, he wouldn’t leave the room.

“I thought he was going to rape me. He was strong and determined. Luckily, I’d placed my purse on the bedside table and was able to grab my Mace from the inside pocket. Do you remember he wore sunglasses the next morning? I sprayed him directly in his eyes.”

I
had
recalled. We all snickered and were thankful Jackie had been prepared and knew how to defend herself.

“Way to go,” Crystal said.

“As he stumbled out the door half blind,” Jackie continued, “he had some pretty nasty things to say about my being a worn out hag. He said he has pity sex with a lot of old women on his tours. I would have been no different. Direct quote.”

Although Jackie had always been a tough chick, and she was still an attractive woman, it was easy to see his words had cut to the quick. Rage flared, and I coughed to clear the emotion lodged in my throat.

“We should contact someone high up at the bus company,” Donna said, balling her fists. “At the very least, Keith needs to be fired and arrested for attempted rape and held accountable for the money he’s stolen from me and Kim. We can’t let him get away with humiliating and threatening all of us. There are six of us. If we stick together, they’ll believe us over him.”

“I went to his room willingly,” Annette reminded us.

“And there’s no law against calling someone names,” Crystal said, sadly.

“But the rest of it,” Donna pleaded. “We can’t let him get away with what he’s done to us! There’s no doubt he’s treated other women this way in the past and he will in the future unless we—”

“Stop him,” I interjected. “And we will, Donna. I promise you. Keith Creswell will never hurt another woman again.” My insides were raked raw, and I felt my heart pounding wildly.

“What do you have in mind?” Jackie asked.

The word slipped from my mouth as smooth as honey. “Murder.”

A chorus of gasps accompanied my friends’ wide eyes. “My God! Are you crazy, Teresa?” Kim exclaimed. “Even if you hate someone’s guts, you can’t murder him.”

“Why not?” My mouth formed the words, and the voice was mine, but it felt like another entity had taken over my body—someone with a black heart.

“What did Keith do to you?” Annette inquired.

I was far more incensed than I’d let myself believe. “Nothing. But he’s degraded all of you. He’s probably hurt dozens more women, emotionally and physically. I’ve never understood why men like him get away with the things they do. They ruin people’s lives and never pay for it. If I thought there was another way to stop him, it would be different. But I don’t think he can stop his manipulating. When I see how his actions have affected you, I’m so furious I could spit nails.” My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. “I’ve come up with a plan.”

“A plan?” Jackie’s jaw dropped. “We just told each other what he’s done. How could you have devised a plan already?”

“I’m more observant than you might imagine. I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of days. Don’t worry. I’m not going to involve any of you. I’ll handle this alone.”

“Handle
what
alone?”

They regarded each other with expressions of doubt and confusion.

“Teresa, I don’t think you realize how much we all care about you,” Donna said, softly, like I was a bomb that would detonate if she raised her voice. “You’re a special person. You’ve always been strong and smart, and a best friend to each of us. You’ve helped every single one of us out of jams through the years. But you are not going to commit murder on our behalf. That’s just ridiculous, so get it out of your head right now!”

“But—”

“There are no buts about it,” Jackie said, firmly. “Together, we’ll think of some way to make him pay, short of criminal activity.”

“Killing him is not the answer,” Kim agreed. “No one gets away with murder. If you go to prison, who will plan our next vacation?”

I stared at her thinking I’d misheard. Then Kim’s mouth twitched into a smile. Crystal chuckled, and within moments, we were all holding our stomachs from laughing hard.

For the past two days, I’d felt like I was walking around in a fog. Keith’s behavior and a recalled incident from my past had sent me spinning out of control. But with Kim’s last comment meant to lighten the mood, the fog suddenly lifted.
Get a grip
, I told myself. I didn’t have the heart of a killer. There was no way I could intentionally set out to murder another human being.

My mouth tilted in an apologetic smile, and I felt my good sense return. “I’m sorry, girls, if I scared you. You’re right. No matter what Keith has done, murder is not the answer.”

“Thank God you came to your senses,” Annette breathed. “Do you promise to forget you had such an idiotic thought?”

I crossed my heart with a finger. “Promise.”

They heaved a collective sigh of relief, and Annette glanced at her watch. “None of us expected this conversation to take place today. It’s been difficult for all of us, admitting our weaknesses and vulnerabilities, but maybe now that everything is out in the open, we can do better to support each other from now on. Although it’s going to be hard, I suggest we try to forget about Keith for the time being and enjoy our final day of vacation.”

“We do have a schedule to adhere to,” Kim added. “If we want to eat lunch before returning to the bus, we’d better hustle.”

After a group hug, we made our way to the café. Although nothing had been settled, not really, the cloud of uncertainty that had briefly driven some of us apart seemed to have lifted.

When it was time to load onto the coach, I purposefully sat in a seat further back next to Winnie and away from my girlfriends. After confessing my notion to murder Keith, there was no way I could look him—or them—in the eyes, because, if the truth were told, I still wanted to kill him.

During the drive through the wildlife preserve, in which he pointed out dozens of beautiful animals, the same darkness that had threatened to swallow me many years ago covered me like a blanket. An icy chill numbed my body. Although I’d promised the girls not to seek revenge on Keith, a feeling hinted that he’d still be dead before the tour ended.

 

~ * ~

 

After breakfast the next morning, Wayne drove us through the Black Hills National Forrest where Ponderosa pines, spruce and aspen forests provide a home for a variety of wildlife. From there, we continued on through the National Grassland prairies of South Dakota and Wyoming en route to Colorado’s capital city of Denver.

The mood on the bus was sedate. Everyone had grown close and would miss the new friendships we’d developed. That night we’d gather for a farewell dinner and short program at our hotel. The next day, all travelers would depart at various times to the Denver International Airport for our return home.

Throughout the long day’s drive, my nerves twitched under my skin. Every time my gaze connected with Keith’s, I pictured him hurting my friends, and my body went as rigid as a steel shaft. As he lectured, I visualized several scenarios, all of which ended with him planted six feet underground. No matter how I tried to shake away the images, I couldn’t stop thinking of ways to murder him.

Poison in food or drink worked well in many of the murder mysteries I’d read through the years. I could see Keith knocking back a cold beer at the farewell dinner and then clutching his throat and writhing on the floor as the poison flowed through his veins and shut down his internal organs. But where would I get the poison? That kind of crime had to be planned way ahead of time.

Another popular way to commit murder was by stabbing. In that fantasy, the six of us hid our steak knives from dinner in our fanny packs, shoved Keith into a dark hallway, and each took a stab at him, like the people did in Agatha Christie’s novel,
Murder on the Orient Express
. But that vision quickly dissolved, because I didn’t want my friends involved.

I remembered a famous case some years back and a more recent one where betrayed wives had sliced off their husbands’ penises and disposed of them. That form of punishment seemed appropriate. I gave it some consideration before realizing I’d have to put myself in an intimate situation with Keith for that to work. That was something I was unwilling to do.

There were all manners of clever ways in which to do away with someone. The problem was, did Keith really deserve to die? Or had he behaved as a pig-dog because women allowed him to? Why did men think they could take advantage of women? And why did women let them get away with it? I slumped in my seat and closed my eyes knowing it was an age-old question that would probably never be answered.

My macabre musings were disrupted when the memory of that night so long ago skated through my mind. After successfully keeping it tucked in a hidden place for so long, the flashes that had been coming over the past couple of days suddenly burst into a full blown slow-motion picture.

My body broke into a cold sweat, and a soft groan tore from my chest. All my senses heightened. I could smell that same strong cologne. Inside my head, my voice cried out in pain. I heard the horrible grunting and felt the tear of flesh. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to mentally erase the horrible image from my mind. Thankfully, Winnie’s voice drew me back to the here and now.

BOOK: Line Dancing Can Be Murder
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