Weekend Warriors (11 page)

“Do you think your dog is starting to like me, Kathryn?”

“Yep. Show Yoko how much you like her, Murphy.” The Malinois wiggled around, placed his front paws on her lap, and barked for her to lower her head so he could lick her chin. “Okay, you’re his bud now. It’s comforting to know there’s someone, even if it’s an animal, who will protect you with their life. If I tell you something, Yoko, will you promise never to tell anyone? You have to swear to me.”

Yoko looked across at Kathryn, noticed the grim set of her jaw, the white knuckles on the steering wheel, the stiff set of her shoulders. “I swear,” she said solemnly.

“I’m afraid. Every time I get in this truck, I’m afraid. I’m afraid to fall asleep for fear someone will break in and attack me. I’m afraid to go to strange places. I’m afraid of everything. I tried to put up a good front for Alan, but he knew. He did everything he could humanly do in his condition to help me but it wasn’t enough. I tried to be so strong and so tough but it was all an act. I bluster, I say outrageous things just to get me over the bad moments.”

“I know that. We Chinese are an intuitive lot, you know.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m turning off here. This place is called Sam Slick’s Truck Stop. There is no Sam but there is a Samantha. Everyone calls her Sam. She owns the joint. Nice lady. A little hard around the edges but she’s good people. Good food, too. She likes to deck out in diamonds and spandex. Beats the hell out of me how she’s never been robbed. Course she could be lying by saying they’re diamonds when they’re really zircons, but who cares. She says she likes to sparkle for the drivers. You’ll like her, she’s a hoot. The best part, though, is she’s got clean showers and bathrooms. That counts when you’re on the road. I’ll gas up and meet you in the shower, okay?”

“Okay, Kathryn.”

An hour and a half later, Kathryn slid into the booth across from Yoko. “What looks good today?”

“Actually everything
sounds
good.” She pointed to the chalkboard over the cash register.

“Kathryn, long time no see,” a pretty waitress with rough, red hands said.

“Hi Penny. Yes, it’s been a while. How’s everything? Did you get married?”

“No,” the waitress sighed. “One of these days. Sam’s out back. She’ll be real happy to see you. Now, what can I get you?”

“I’ll have the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, carrots, French dressing on my salad and cherry pie for dessert. Coffee of course, and I need an order to go for my dog. Three hamburger steaks, double order of carrots, and a cherry pie. Two bottles of water and fill our thermoses.”

“Miss, what will you have?”

“I’ll have the carrots and string beans. Cherry pie, apple pie and chocolate cake. Ice cream on all three. Coffee, too,” Yoko said.

“Whoa, little lady, that’s some dinner. Did you ever hear of the three food groups?”

“Yes, but I do not care for them. Thank you, my order stands.”

Kathryn was finishing her pie when she felt a poke to her shoulder. “Move over,
sister.
Hey, hey, what’s the matter? You turned white as a ghost. It’s me, Sam. Sorry, kid, I didn’t mean to spook you.”

“You didn’t, Sam. I guess my mind was somewhere else. Sam, this is Yoko. She’s riding as far as San Fran with me. It’s good to see you.”

Sam Slick was as flashy as her neon establishment. Today she wore her waist-long hair piled high on her head with little ringlets cascading around her ears and down her back. Diamonds winked in her ears. Not just one but three to each lobe. Alan always said she put her makeup on with a trowel. He was probably right. She had a perfect smile and beautiful teeth that glistened when she talked.

Sam wiggled inside the lemon-yellow spandex dress that was two sizes too small. “We were just talking about you not long ago, Kathryn. Haven’t seen you in a while and then one of the boys told me about Alan. I’m real sorry, kid. I didn’t know. I would have sent flowers but none of us knew where . . . where you were when it happened. The boys took up a collection. Yeah, yeah, they did. They wanted to, Kathryn. All the girls kicked in, too. You okay, kid?”

“No. It’s hard, Sam. Alan was part of me. Now I have a dog. It’s not the same.”

“Of course it isn’t the same. I felt like that when Beau passed on. Life didn’t have any meaning for a long time, but time has a way of taking care of everything. I know you don’t believe that right now, but in time you will. Let me get that collection for you. I’ve been keeping it in the safe all this time.”

“I see what you mean about her being a nice lady,” Yoko said.

“Salt of the earth. Did you see those diamonds on her hands?”

“I felt like putting my sunglasses on,” Yoko giggled.

“Here you go, kid,” Sam said, holding out a shoebox that said Pappagalo on the side. “We collected over ten grand. You’re not going to bawl and embarrass me, are you, Kathryn? If you start howling then I’m going to howl, and I don’t feel like gluing on these eyelashes again much less applying my makeup all over again.”

Kathryn struggled for the words but her tongue felt too thick in her mouth. “I didn’t have enough money for flowers and I had to put his funeral on tick. Will you thank everyone for me?”

“No. You just get on that CB and thank them yourself. Listen to me, kid, don’t ever be too proud to ask for help. You should have called me.”

Tears burned Kathryn’s eyes. “I wish I had called you. No one came to the funeral except me and a local trucker named Carl Manning. Maybe it was better that way. Thanks, Sam.”

“My pleasure, kid. Drive with the angels. You hear.”

“I hear ya, Sam.”

“Grab the food, Yoko, while I pay the bill. Leave the waitress twenty bucks. She has to hustle here and she’s trying to put two kids through college.”

Kathryn paid the bill, fed Murphy, and then walked him.

They were back on the highway in less than thirty minutes.

Fifty-two hours later, with catnaps of an hour or so along the way, Kathryn pulled the rig alongside the loading dock of the Home Depot. While her cargo was being unloaded she used the CB to call the dispatcher at the wholesale produce mart. “Vernon, this is Kathryn Lucas. Listen, I’m sorry but I can’t take that load of carrots to Denver for you. My husband passed away and I need to get away for a few days. I’m going to park the rig and get a flight to someplace where I don’t know anyone. Four, five days, I’m not sure. I can take some lettuce that way if you want when I get back. If you don’t have anything for me on my return, I’ll just head on home on empty. I appreciate your condolences, Vernon. Thanks. I’ll call you the minute I get off the plane.”

“Now what?”

“Now we head for Los Angeles and the motel to wait for the others. Call Myra and tell her we’re right on schedule. Find out if everyone else will be on time. I really need to get some sleep. I can’t wait to fill the tub and take a good long bubble bath. We have to find a laundromat once we check in. Sometimes motels have a facility but just as often they don’t. I suppose we could buy some clothes. We certainly have enough money to do that.”

“I can take care of all that while you sleep, Kathryn. I will call Myra now.”

“Be careful what you say. Just generalities. She’ll get the drift. We can’t be too careful.”

“Myra, it is Yoko. How are you? We’re fine. A little tired. And the others? That’s nice to hear. I hope you’re well. The weather is very nice. I’ll call again when we both have more time. Goodbye.

“She said everything is whirring. I have to assume she meant everything is in motion and we’re all on schedule. It’s just a matter of days now, Kathryn. Tell me something, if you could have anything you wanted right now, what would you wish for?” Yoko asked.

“A little cottage somewhere near the water. Maybe a lake or the ocean. A couple of acres so I had some privacy and Murphy could run. A house with a front porch with rocking chairs. A nice kitchen you could eat in. Modern appliances. A pretty bathroom with flowered wallpaper. A walk-in closet. I’d like one of those canopy beds with white lace. I’d like one of those big televisions and a chair that would hold both Murphy and me while we watch it.

“I saw some dishes once in a catalog that had tiny little bluebells on them. They were so delicate and so pretty. I’d like to eat off dishes like that instead of Styrofoam. I want big, fluffy pink towels with my initials on them so I know they belong to me. I’d like some bookshelves with lots and lots of books to read on cold winter nights. A fireplace, of course. I’d want a stack of cherrywood because it smells nice when it burns. I want to learn to cook and bake. I love looking at the pictures in cookbooks.”

Kathryn laughed ruefully. “Since I’ll be around eighty when I get out of debt, I doubt I’ll ever get a house like that. It’s okay to dream, though. I know how Alexis must have felt when she had to sell off her house to pay her legal bills. She told me she owes over two hundred grand in legal bills. I’m right up there with her.”

“I think it’s a wonderful dream, Kathryn. I hope it happens for you someday.”

“I hope so, too. If it doesn’t, my life won’t be ruined. I’m going to get on the CB now and thank all my friends for the . . . you know. Go to sleep, Yoko. You look as tired as I feel.”

“That’s a very good idea, Kathryn.”

Kathryn brushed at her eyes as she reached for the CB. “Hey you guys, this is Big Sis. Anyone out there?”

 

The room Myra called the sunroom was a beautiful room. It was an addition she’d added to the old farmhouse the year Barbara and Nikki turned thirteen. The year when sleepovers, scout meetings, and parties took up both days of the weekends.

The sunroom was always both girl’s favorite room in the entire house. They did their homework at back-to-back desks listening to loud music while the television blared in the corner. Back then there had been a litter box in one corner and a dog bed in another corner. More often than not, Sophie and Bennie could be found snuggled together in the tufted dog bed. Both were gone now, dying of old age. Irreplaceable, Myra had elected to forego animals in her life because it was too painful when they passed on.

The room was alive with luscious green plants and tall, bushy ficus trees that somehow had managed to survive her two-year hiatus in the nether world. Charles had seen to everything, making sure he fed the plants, trimmed them back and watered them faithfully because he knew how much Myra loved the room.

He knew his beloved Myra was troubled when she lowered herself into one of the his-and-hers chairs she’d bought for them when the girls moved out. More often than not they dined off trays while they either watched or listened to television.

Life until just recently had been placid, worrisome, and boring.

“I think we should get married, Charles,” Myra blurted.

Charles lowered himself into his chair and kicked up the footrest. “That’s probably the best idea you ever had, Myra. Name the date and I’ll be there. Do you want to talk about it or is this just something that came to you in your dreams?”

“I do dream about you, darling. All the time. No, I’ve been thinking about marriage a lot since we began our little project. The main reason is, I love you. I loved you the minute I spotted you standing at the foot of Big Ben. I took your picture, remember? Then we kept meeting up at different places. Husbands and wives can’t be forced to testify against each other.”

“That’s because I was following you and the others. I was smitten the minute I saw you. I’ve always loved Americans. I can’t say I loved your parents, though. They wanted no part of me. So, you are worried about this project.”

“Anxious might be a better way of phrasing it. My parents were not a romantic couple. They were afraid you would coerce me into staying in England. That’s why they whisked me back home. The moment they found out I was pregnant they somehow managed to get Andrew Rutledge to make an honest woman of me. I regret that so deeply, Charles. I wish I had been more defiant. Andrew was a kind man, but so much older. He didn’t have a fun bone in his stodgy body. I felt terrible when he passed on. I tried to find you, to tell you we had a daughter but you were gone. I grieved for you night and day.

“I still, to this day, remember the moment the call came from your embassy asking all those questions. And then your people came to interview me and to check out our security at the candy plant. They said you would arrive in twelve hours if I agreed to hire you on and never breathe a word of it to anyone. I was so speechless I could only nod. Those twelve hours until you walked through the door were the most anxious hours of my life. You just smiled at me and all those empty years were gone.”

“I never stopped loving you, Myra.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“We should have told Barbara. She grew up and died never knowing you were her father. I regret that. We should have told her, Charles.”

“No. She adored Andrew. You can’t rip a child’s world out from under them. I think in time she grew to love me as a substitute father. That was good enough for me. We’ve had a wonderful life, Myra. I have no complaints.”

“Charles, don’t you think it strange that Barbara’s beau hasn’t been in touch with us? The last time I saw him was at her funeral.”

“Ben did call, Myra, many times during that first year, but you were so wrapped up in your grief you would just nod when I told you. Ben Gerrity is a fine young man. He moved to New York shortly after . . . after the funeral. He works for Goldman Sachs in the city and is doing well. In fact, he’s getting married in June to a lovely young girl who is a physician’s assistant to an OBGYN doctor. They’re going to live in Bronxville in an old Tudor house.”

“How do you know all this, Charles?” Myra asked in amazement.

Charles smiled. “I made it my business to find out. It wasn’t that hard. I knew you would eventually get around to asking me and I wanted to have the answers for you.”

“Whatever would I do without you, Charles?”

“For starters, you’d have to learn to cook. You’d muddle through, Myra.”

“You’ll be leaving in the morning. Isabelle left on a four o’clock flight. I’ll be all alone here worrying myself to death.”

“Nikki will be here, Myra. I gave her enough to do to keep her busy for weeks. She’s such a quick study. You tell her once and she grasps it immediately. By the time this first case is over, she will have complete dossiers and files on each case. She’s worried about Jack Emery. I have to admit I have some doubts myself where he is concerned. I think it was a stroke of genius on your part, Myra, when you had Isabelle draw up plans for remodeling the bathrooms upstairs. You even took it upon yourself to order four bathtubs, four vanities, four toilets and four shower inserts, not to mention the toilet seats, and store them in the garage. That covers us as far as Jack seeing Kathryn’s truck parked here. However, my darling, you goofed up when you said the driver was a man. If he had the presence of mind to run a check on the license plate, he’ll know it was a woman. Unless the plate and truck are registered in Alan’s name.” He slapped at his forehead. “How could I have let that get past me? How, Myra?”

“A senior moment?” Myra quipped. “Nikki’s heart is breaking, Charles, and I feel responsible. If it wasn’t for Marie Lewellen, Jack might have put the ring on her finger by now.”

“You can’t think like that, Myra, nor can you blame yourself. It’s better she finds out now how power hungry Jack Emery is and to what lengths he’ll go to achieve that power he craves. Sex,” Charles said, looking up at the ceiling, “isn’t everything.”

“How long do you think he’ll keep at it before he gives up on Marie Lewellen, Charles?”

“People like Jack never give up. The Lewellens are safe where they are in the Amish country. In a month’s time they’ll adapt. It’s as good as it gets, Myra.”

“I’m going to miss you. What should I do while you’re all gone? If I just sit here and think, I’ll go out of my mind.”

“You could act on what Yoko told you on the phone last night about Kathryn and her little dream house. Or, you can see what you can do about buying back Alexis’s house for her. On the other hand, my dear, you could do both. Vienna or Fairfax would be a nice area for Kathryn. You might want to think about possibly going a little further out to Culpepper. More land out that way. I’m not sure about water. If necessary you could build her a pond and put some ducks in it.”

“That’s an absolutely brilliant idea, Charles. Do you think I should arrange some surveillance for Mr. Emery?”

Charles threw back his head and laughed, a deep belly laugh that made Myra smile. “I already took care of that. It never ceases to amaze me, Myra. You think like I do. Just when I think I one-upped you, you come up with the same idea a short while later. The reports will be coming in over the computer. Nikki is aware of it.”

“Why did Nikki go back to town this evening? Did she say anything to you, Charles?”

“Nothing, other than there were some loose ends at the office. I think she wanted to check for bugs. She said she’s going to be staying at the farm for a while. I know that makes you happy.”

“Oh, it does. I understood why she had to move back to town. The commute is long and often she has to be in court very early. Then there was Jack. I hate to see her paying that sky-high rent, but she said it’s necessary. I wonder if Jack knows or is aware of Nikki’s financial situation.”

“When people are in love, they tend to share such things, Myra. I think it’s safe to assume he’s well aware of Nikki’s holdings. Just like I’m aware of his. The man’s got dick, Myra. He’s maxed out on his credit cards and has a hard time making his lease payments on his Lexus. Nikki told me a while back that he wanted to move in so they could share the rent. She said no.”

“Thank God,” Myra sighed. She covered her mouth in a delicate yawn. She hoped Charles wouldn’t insist on watching one of his favorite western movies.

Charles looked at his watch. “I think we should head off to bed, Myra. I have an early morning flight. I’m issuing an invitation here, Myra.”

“And I’m accepting it,” Myra twinkled.

 

 

Isabelle Flanders adjusted her floppy-brimmed straw hat and dark glasses as she stepped from the taxi. She paid and tipped the driver. She waited another moment until a bellboy loaded her baggage onto a cart to take indoors.

A headache hammered away at the base of her skull and before long she was going to have a full-blown migraine. If not a migraine, then one of the hateful visions that had plagued her since the car accident. She didn’t know which she hated more.

At the registration desk she handed the desk clerk Kathryn Lucas’s Visa card. She scrawled Kathryn’s name across the bottom of the reservation form and waited for her key. She mumbled a muffled “thank you” when the desk clerk slid the key along the marble counter.

She turned to follow the young man and her luggage to her private cottage. She was grateful that the walk was a short one. Later, after the migraine or the vision, she would check out her surroundings. For now she needed water and some aspirin. She tipped the young man and waited for him to leave.

“This is a swinging place, miss. We have five tennis courts, every water sport you can think of, and our nightly entertainment is the best on the island. The Seahorse Pub is where everyone meets in the evening unless they want to go to town. We have a mini-bus if you don’t want to walk up and down the hills. The health club is new. The guests like to dance under the stars on the beach terrace. If you need anything, just call the front desk. Enjoy your stay, Miss Lucas.”

“Yes, thank you,” Isabelle said, handing him a twenty dollar bill. For sure he would remember Kathryn Lucas as a good tipper.

The moment the door closed behind the young man, Isabelle ripped off the sunglasses and straw hat. She rummaged in her purse for her aspirin bottle and gulped down four of them with a swig of water from the mini-bar. She walked out onto the lanai and sat down under the shade of an umbrella. She closed her eyes and waited. Either the headache would come on with force or the vision would appear behind her closed lids.

Why couldn’t she be normal like everyone else?
Because Rosemary Wexler ruined your life, that’s why.
She could hardly wait till it was her turn so she could rip Rosemary’s face to shreds.

It came then in the form of jagged streaks of bright light and then the grainy, gray forms she didn’t recognize that were people. This time she saw a car and something that looked like a black marble. The gray form was sticking the marble under the bumper of a BMW. And then it was over. She rubbed at the corners of her eyes with the knuckle of her index finger. For some reason her eyes always teared after a vision.

The first time it happened, she’d gone to a doctor thinking she’d torn her retina or perhaps something worse. The eye doctor had sent her to have her arteries tested, saying possibly a piece of plaque might have broken off. The test had shown nothing wrong, at which point the doctor told her not to worry, her eyes were fine. When she’d gone back a second, a third and then a fourth time, the doctor had lost patience with her and referred her to another doctor who basically said the same thing. There was nothing wrong with her eyes.

The day she’d ruled out all medical reasons, she’d gone to the library and researched all things paranormal. She saw things but she never knew what they meant. She never recognized the places or the gray, grainy people that appeared before her. Until today. She’d seen the BMW clearly. What did it mean?

With nothing on her hands but time, Isabelle headed for the shower. It was such a relief to take off the heavy, red wig.

An hour later, dressed in shorts, T-shirt and sandals, her own hair piled high on her head, the straw hat on top, Isabelle fixed herself a stiff drink and carried it out to the lanai.

As she sipped at the scotch and soda, she wondered if she would be able to enjoy herself on this brief vacation. It had been six years since she’d gone on a vacation and even then the vacation had only been a four-day-long weekend with a man she thought she would one day marry. After the accident he’d disappeared, the way her business and bank account had disappeared. A businessman in town, he didn’t want to be tainted with the same brush. “Screw you, Steve Whitmore!” she muttered. “And screw all the rest of you who believed Rosemary Wexler’s line of bullshit. My day is coming!”

Isabelle downed the remains of her drink and eyed the mini-bar through the sliding glass doors. Why not? She was on vacation. She could use a little glow in her life, even if it came from alcohol.

“Shit! Damn it, I was supposed to call Myra.” Her movements were frantic as she fumbled through her purse for the cell phone Charles had given her. She screwed her face into a grimace as she tried to remember Charles’s instructions. She finally got it on the third try. “Hi,” she said.

“Well hi yourself,” was Myra’s response.

“I should have called sooner but it’s incredibly hot here and I wanted to take a shower. I had . . . one of those . . . you know.”

“And?”

“I saw something I never saw before. A detail. In the past, everything was always vague, unidentifiable. This time I saw a man doing something with a marble to a BMW. I don’t know what it means, since I don’t know anyone who has a BMW. I can’t seem to function after . . . afterward.”