A Chance Mistake (13 page)

“Ed could keep track of me and put me through my own horror book. The first one that was never published. You know…inspire my creative juices.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand you Americans.”

“It’s not all of us.” He smiled although feeling sad. He picked up his backpack by the front door and carefully emptied everything out. Thankfully his phone with the pictures for Luke was still there. An oval metal piece the size of a coin landed on top. He looked at it with disbelief. “Well, that’s how they found me.”

Dafina looked at the object, held up an index finger for him to wait, and left the room. She returned with a hammer. He promptly brought it down on the piece, smashing it.

“I’m not sure if it was a tracking device or a bug—or maybe both. They could’ve slipped it in my backpack when I exited the plane.”

“We’d better call the coppers—but you think it was all a sort of
helpful
hoax? Where is Biggins? How did they—”

“Don’t know. Let’s check out the kitchen. That’s where all the sounds came from.”

Searching the kitchen gave no clue, not even a goat hair.

“I can’t believe they left the dinner and the treacle sponge pudding untouched,” Dafina said.

“It looks amazing.” The roast and vegetables made his mouth water. “You’re quite the fine cook.” He observed the dessert. “Treacle sponge? Did it come from the ocean?” Visions of divers going after sponges and sea urchins came to mind. Not something he wanted to eat. Looking at the dessert though, it proved to be more of a cake than a pudding. Why was he not surprised?

“The ocean?” Her eyes widened and she laughed. “Goodness, no. It’s a pudding made with flour, eggs, and butter—no sea animals.” She laughed again. “Wanted to serve you a fine Welsh dinner at least one more time. You don’t think they tampered with it?”

“I’ll try it out first and if nothing happens—well, then it’s safe.” He half smiled.

“Not sure I like the sound of that.”

“It’s almost like they weren’t even here. Nothing is out of place. But we know they were—here.” He pointed to the place where he stood. One place they hadn’t searched was the trash. He stepped over to the metal bin and pulled out a white butcher paper that was on top. Part of it had what looked like watery blood then he saw a price sticker. He looked to Dafina.

“That’s not mine.” She stood beside him to examine it. “It’s from the meat market. The sticker says stew meat.” She sighed in a relieved manner.

“That’s what was thrown at us in the basement. Unbelievable—but good news.” He looked to see if anything else could be a clue, but only found potato and carrot peelings.

“I’m going to check around outside. To make sure they’re really gone.”

“Kory, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He ducked through the kitchen and headed out the backdoor without an answer. He hoped she understood. Even though it hadn’t shown in his voice or actions, his insides pumped with anger. He wanted to get a hold of the two and clunk their heads together and break their plastic gun. Had to be plastic.

The backyard was still, quiet. The cottage stood like an innocent sentinel. He wanted to make sure it was locked up and no one was hanging around. He turned the doorknob and tried pushing the door. Locked tight. He stealthily made his way around to the back. A lone figure stood motionless in the moonlight. Broad shoulders, shoulder length hair. “Hoover?”

“Uh…yeah. Just getting Biggins. He got away again.”

The goat chewed on long grass next to some lumpy forms. He’d never been so relieved to see a goat.

Hoover continued. “I think there’s something strange going on. Do you know those blokes?” He pointed to the dark shapes on the ground, and Kory jumped, realizing that they were men.

He crept closer. It was Shorty and Laces without their ski masks. They looked like they were knocked out cold. “Did you do that?”

“No. I just got here.”

Kory leaned over them. Shorty had a nasty bump on his head, and Lace’s jaw had a nasty gash with bruising, but otherwise their color was good and they were breathing. “They’ve been knocked out.” Nearby a rock with a dark red substance shone in the moonlight. “You’re sure you didn’t do it? I mean, they were trespassing.”

“No,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I’ll go and call the police straight away and send for an ambulance. Strange, that is. Come on, Biggins.” The goat remained chewing. Hoover reluctantly stepped to the goat, fastened a leash on his collar and pulled him away.

“Thanks,” Kory called after his retreating figure.

“Yeah. The police won’t think we did it, will they?”

“I don’t know why they would.” Why did Hoover act so guilty? Was he guilty?

Kory headed back to the house, a strange feeling coursing through him. If Hoover hadn’t done it, who did? He picked up a quick jog and reached to open the back door. It breezed open without him turning the knob. Dread snaked down his spine. Now what? He knew he’d closed the door tight.

Back in stealth mode, he slipped inside, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Something wasn’t right. On his way through the kitchen, he picked up a heavy skillet. Not the first weapon he would choose, but he needed something—anything. He turned toward the hall and heard Griff send out a grisly warning growl, deep and vicious.

Griff stood in front of Dafina, with his teeth bared. A man headed toward her, his back to Kory. Hoover? How was it possible? He flicked his wrist, and a blade glinted in the faint light. But the man’s shoulders weren’t wide enough to be Hoover. And although the intruder’s hair was long and wavy, it was tangled and dirty. Griff sprang an attack, his jaws sinking into the man’s leg.

The intruder’s attention turned to Griff, but Kory was already in action, hitting the man on the back of his head with the heavy skillet. A sickening clunk rang out. Hopefully Kory’s force was enough to knock him out, but not enough to kill him. The man sank to the floor and remained unmoving. Kory rushed to Dafina and held her.

“That man. I think I saw him outside the bookstore,” Dafina said in a trembling voice. “I’m so thankful you were here.”

“You’re safe now.” He hugged her tightly. All he could do was thank God that Dafina was safe. Kory’s imagination threatened to take him to what would have taken place if he happened to be two or three seconds late. He totally wasn’t going there.

As he hugged her, Griff let out another growl. Although the intruder was unconscious, Griff still held the man’s pants leg in his mouth and tugged it back and forth.

“Hey, buddy. It’s okay. You can let him go,” Kory said.

Griff let go, but kept a steady vigil on the man. 

Chapter 19

The police and ambulance came, but there wasn’t any sign of Shorty or Laces. Dafina still trembled inside at knowing she almost became the slasher’s next victim. She could see the coppers’ expressions of surprise that the fugitive had doubled back to Wales, and they were exceedingly relieved to have the slasher in their custody. The killer had started to regain consciousness before the ambulance took him away.

After everyone had left and she and Kory had eaten dinner, he sat with her on the sofa.

“Dafina?”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“Could I crash on your couch tonight?” His forehead wrinkled and his grin somewhat embarrassed.

“Of course, don’t be silly.”

“With all that’s happened, I don’t want to be far away—you know?”

“I know.” Her heart fluttered, and she held his hand.

“Come to New York with me. To give Luke the travel pictures—and well, to meet my family.”

“I don’t know, Kory Slate.” She smiled at his sudden deflated features. “What intentions ‘ave you?”

“My intentions? My intentions are all good. We can stay with my parents.” His expression relaxed.

She smiled and decided to tease him further. “I know. Flip that coin of yours. Heads I go with you. Tails I stay.” She rested an index finger on her smiling lips. Surely, he wouldn’t take such a chance if he wanted her to go.”

“You really want me to flip a coin over it?”

She knew him well enough by now that he struggled to keep his voice monotone with no emotion. He was a tad vexed, and she kept bubbles of laughter hidden inside. No way for him to know. She waited for him to say he would in no way let it be a chance decision.

“Okay, then.” His voice strained.

He slipped his hand in a side pocket, found a coin, and turned it over a couple of times in his hand. Then flipped it in the air. He caught it with one hand and slapped it on his wrist. He took his hand away revealing the same American coin that he’d used before. “Heads.”

She took in a breath, surprised at how fast it had happened. “Well now, that’s a relief.”

“Is it?”

“Of course, it is.” She smiled brightly or what she thought to be brightly. Oh no. She hoped it hadn’t taken on a false look. How could she put into word that she only meant to tease? Why hadn’t he stood up against her idea of the ridiculous coin flip? Ah well, what did it matter? She was going with him. “I’ll call Gweneth in the morning and see about scheduling time off. A week?”

He nodded. “A week is good—seven days not five. Nine would be better. You know, a work week of five days, plus two weekends.”

Chapter 20

A week later Dafina stood inside Kory’s sister’s old room and looked out the window onto a side street of New York City. The street below, ten stories down. What a different life they lived. She’d never in her life thought she’d be in a city of eight million and experience culture shock.

The last several days had been a whirlwind of plans, getting her passport, explaining everything to Mum, then Kory meeting her mum, finding someone to take care of Griff, and packing. She’d almost backed out of the trip when it came time to board the jet. Even though she’d warned Kory that it was her first flight, she plastered on her pleasant, bored expression that was useful in so many difficult situations.

Dafina was awed by Kory in how he took everything in stride. The airport and New York City were mammoth with a myriad of travelers hurrying this way and that. She grabbed the crook of his arm and held on for dear life. He took her through the subway, on a bus, then a taxi to finally arrive at his parent’s apartment.

His father, an older representation of Kory, had answered the door, surprise written all over his face. His mother was a pleasant looking woman with a dark brown hair. She crowded near and gave a whoop of joy.

“Finally. Don’t do that to us again. You know you’ve been gone over a month?” his mother chided. Dafina decided right then and there that she liked her.

“Mom. I told you I could be gone that long or even longer. Here I am though.” He laughed. “I want you to meet Dafina Perry. She’s from Wales.”

“You were in Wales?” His dad slapped him on the shoulder. “I agree with your mother this time. But it’s a pleasure to meet you, Dafina.”

“It surely is,” his mom chimed in. She whispered out of the side of her mouth into Kory’s father’s ear. “Such a lovely girl.”

****

Six days into her American holiday, Dafina could honestly say that she enjoyed staying in Kory’s sister’s old room. The off-white walls with dusky pink decorations and fluffy, rose colored bed cover made her feel relaxed. But her bedroom and every room in the home followed a color scheme. The middle room—what they called a living room—was subdued in grays, the kitchen in white and polished steel waited for a spill or drip to happen, and the bathroom mellow in sea-foam green. Chic and all that, but stifling to her. Where was the life, the living—the spots of bright unexpected color?

Kory was quite the host, giving her a tour each day. They’d seen the 911 Memorial, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, and Central Park. All loomed brighter and larger than life and made her senses spin. But the culture shock that she’d experienced had morphed into homesickness.

A thought of a short brown and white dog came to mind. When Griff had realized that she was leaving his ears and tail drifted down. Replaying the memory in her mind was almost more than she could take. “Griff, I miss you,” she whispered. Aye, and she missed her mum, home, and the bookstore.

Her feelings for Kory continued to grow, but how to know if he felt the same? She saw the warmth of love in his eyes, but if it were real, how could he decide her visiting New York by the flip of a coin? She’d tried to put it out of her mind. It was probably nothing.

As Dafina had finished getting dressed for the new day in jeans and a light pink sweater, a knock sounded at the door. She opened the door and stepped outside of her room.

“Hey. I hope you don’t mind, but I have to go see Ed.” Kory stood before her in a smart looking jacket, button down shirt, and gray trousers. She bit back a smile, realizing the clothes were the ones he’d purchased in Wales.

“Ed? The one who sent those two darrens after you?”

“Yes. The one and the same. Don’t worry, you can stay here while I’m gone. There’s a lot of reading material here.” He half smiled. “Or if you want company, Mom is here.”

Reading material? His books? Her face became warm, remembering Fanny’s outburst over the love scene.

“I want to go with you. I want to see that Ed bloke with my own eyes.”

“It’s better if you don’t.”

“Oh, I—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”

Ah, Kory. How unlike him to cut her off and leave her hanging. She’d go see about that reading material.

****

Kory headed out the apartment door with a quick, “See ya,” to his mother. He’d given her an abbreviated run-down of his suspicions about his editor. She hadn’t thought it possible that a business would do such a thing. But she didn’t know Ed. He was a ruthless type, plus a creative mastermind—an explosive combination.

The elevator ride down couldn’t possibly go fast enough. At the street, he boarded a bus and not finding a seat, remained standing and held onto a rail. All he could do was think of the stress Ed’s plan had caused Dafina. Even if Ed’s intentions erred on trying to do something helpful, it could have been a disaster. What was Kory thinking? It was a disaster, and all he could do from storming to the man’s office the minute Kory was in town. Using time for a buffer would hopefully keep him from a heated outburst. He, at least, wanted to remain professional.

He had a mind to give up writing horror, but the scribbles in his journal had made it clear that he couldn’t write anything else and be happy about it. He’d written down snippets of ideas for historical fiction, Amish fiction, and young adult to no avail. Each idea had twisted itself into the horror genre. He wanted to do something worthwhile—something inspirational. To be meaningful to the reader. But how?

A curious thought presented itself to him. He remembered coming up to Dafina as she read. She’d spoken to the character out loud unaware that he stood nearby. She’d told Carl that he needed to get down on his knees and pray. That was the answer. Something good could still be found in writing horror.

Now if he could convince Ed not to add cussing on every page and leave out the sex scenes. That wouldn’t be an easy sell. Why should Kory have to write what he was against including? He could write a thrilling, gripping story without those things.

He exited the bus and headed to skyscraper that housed Ed’s office on the second floor. No lofty office for Ed. Probably what made him so cranky. Kory took the stairs and headed to the front desk.

“I’m here to see Mr. Wappelhorst.”

“I don’t see your name listed. Did you have an appointment?” Molly searched her monitor.

“No appointment. It won’t take long.”

“Go on back. I’ll let him know.” She motioned him on.

Kory strode down the hall, and reached Ed’s half open door. He took in a breath in effort to keep calm and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” He motioned to a chair that Kory declined. Ed held an old fashioned phone in his thin fingered grasp, thanked Molly, and hung up the receiver. “Hey, don’t take off like that again. I had some questions for you about your next book.” His dark eyebrows came together in wrinkle. Kory must have had a rather agitated look on his face because Ed burst out laughing. “Just kidding, you’re fine, but I am glad that you’re back.”

What was it with this guy?
“Ed. Was it worth it? Wasn’t it taking too much of chance of someone getting hurt?” Kory struggled to keep his voice even. His heart pounded.

Ed pushed back his dark hair, adjusted his black rectangle glasses. His hand rested on the chair arm, his fingers tapped in a nervous manner. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about.”

“You didn’t send two goons to follow me? I half expect them to pop out of the woodwork.” He glanced at the wooden chair rails along the burgundy wall.

“You
thought
two guys were shadowing you?” Ed took on a sympathetic, worried manner.

“It’ not in my head, Ed. It really happened.” His legs felt weak—much to his distress. He’d wanted to stand, but sat in the offered chair. “They bound me up and stole my money. Then later they caught up with me again—”

“I know you’ve been under a lot of stress. But you’re saying—”

“Why did you do it? I put out bestsellers. There’s no reason to try to scare another one out of me.”

“Kory. I didn’t send anyone after you.” Ed’s eyes appeared honest, willing him to see reason. “I don’t have money for that. The publishing house wouldn’t okay such a thing. You’ve already got what it takes. No need to make you better.”

Whoa.

“Kory. Think about it. There’s no funding for anything like that. We’ve been working on paring down—working with the bare minimum.”

“It makes no sense. Why—” He fumbled for some sort of answer.

“Maybe you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Ed’s eyebrows contorted in a puzzled manner. “Cliché, I know. Don’t put it in your next book.” He laughed.

Kory left the office with a rather sick feeling, breaking out in a sweat. Thankfully, Dafina had seen Shorty and Laces to know that it really happened. Otherwise he’d be tempted to believe his overactive imagination had made up the whole thing.

Would he enter his mom and dad’s apartment to find Dafina wasn’t there either? His delirious, scrambled mind had concocted everything? He hated the thought.

Or maybe he’d wake up from a coma to learn it was all a dream, and he’d suffered injury in the same accident as Luke. He lifted his line of vision, following the lines of the lofty buildings up to the blue sky. Horns honked, cars and busses whooshed by. Being a writer was the most creative wonderful thing, but he wished he could turn it off sometimes.

****

Dafina headed to the sounds in the kitchen to find Kory’s mum. She looked to be preparing a pudding from a box mix. Chocolate. Certainly the woman was a brave soul, wearing a white shirt in a white kitchen, working with chocolate.

“Good morning.” Kory’s mum smiled and held a spoon that dripped liquid brown over the bowl.

“Good morning. Anything I can do to help?” Dafina offered, but deep down she hoped not. She wanted to get hold of
The Unseen
.

“Oh, no, I’m getting ready to put the brownies in the oven.”

Brownies. Odd name that.
“Kory mentioned that there were books I could look over and read, but I can’t seem to find any in the lounge—I mean, living room.”

“All the books are in Kory’s old room. Help yourself.”

“Ah. Thank you. I’ll see what I can find.” Dafina made her way out of the kitchen and headed down the hall to his room. He’d always kept his door shut, so she had no idea what she’d find.

She opened the door, slightly guilty, feeling that she was invading his old space. But she remembered his half smile as he’d told her about the reading material. She stepped into his room, amazed to see one whole wall was a book case. She took in a breath at seeing his Agatha Christie collection. He had them all, including
The Man in the Brown Suit
. Yet, he’d purchased a copy from her.

She glanced to his nightstand where another copy laid—the copy she sold him. His bed, neatly made with a red plaid cover. The walls in his room, a dark green. Thank goodness for some rich colors. Movie posters decorated the walls.

She focused her attention back to the wall of books. A large blue section of the bookcase was all of the original Hardy Boy books, number one through fifty-eight. And numbers one through forty-three of Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators. He had all of C.S. Lewis’s books, as far as she could tell, along with J.R. Tolkien. Some Goosebumps books and Stephen King books. Various sci-fi and detective books filled the rest of the shelves. She smiled and tapped an index finger on her lips. Poor child didn’t have a chance other than to be a writer.

Seeing this glimpse into his childhood and young adult life made him even more endearing.

But where were the books that he’d written? There they were. All of the books except
The Unseen
. The shelves were full though—no room for anything else. Perhaps he had it stashed somewhere in a closet or under the bed.

She felt kind of silly crouched down looking under his bed, imagining him to happen upon her. A quick search showed nothing.

He’d left the mostly empty closet open. The orange suitcase stood in the corner along with his back pack. A few shirts and pairs of pants hung above them. The right side of the closet proved more interesting with a simple type desk with a single central drawer. On top of the desk sat a container with an assortment of pens and pencils, paperweights and various books that looked like journals. The drawer stood ajar. She could make out a stack of papers—a manuscript? Oh, how she’d love to read his writing, before it had become a book. Was it his first story that hadn’t been published?

She stood in front of the desk for several long seconds, not wanting to be nosey, but yet wanting to enjoy his early writing. Feeling like Pandora opening the box, she slowly pulled the drawer open. A stack of paper at least eight centimeters thick was bound together by an oversized red rubber-band. Typed on the top sheet was the wording:
Sleight of Hand
  by Kory Slate.