Alarums (25 page)

    'I don't like the idea of leaving you holding the bag. Melanie made a real mess of things, and you'll be left with the consequences.'

    'I'll be okay. I wasn't involved in the hairy stuff. With you and Melanie gone, Harrison might figure he's won. He'll probably pretend the whole thing never happened. He's good at that.'

    'What do you mean?'

    Pen shook her head. 'He won't try anything with me.'

    'I hope you're right. But Melanie said he thinks you were behind all this today.'

    'Let him think what he wants.' Pen lifted a chip to her mouth. Some cheese clung to her upper lip. She chewed, then licked it off. 'Maybe you shouldn't tell Melanie at least not before you're gone - but I plan to visit the police tomorrow and tell them everything.'

    Bodie frowned. 'Do you think that's a good idea?'

    'It's self-preservation, for one thing. Once I've talked to the police and accused those two, I don't think they'd dare to come after me. It wouldn't look good if anything happened to me after that. Besides, I plan to make believers out of the cops. Maybe they'll turn up some evidence.'

    'Better them than us.'

    'That's for sure,' Pen agreed.

    'I don't know where we'd go from here, anyway.'

    'Melanie might have a few ideas about that.' She glanced around as if to make sure that her sister wasn't sneaking through the kitchen, then said, 'I suspect she might have one last move up her sleeve. It's a long time from now till morning.'

    'Yeah,' Bodie said. 'Yeah, I see what you mean. She takes a nap now, and sneaks out tonight after you and I are asleep. I wouldn't put it past her. We'll have to make sure she doesn't get the chance.'

    

    

    When they finished eating, Pen and Bodie cleaned off the table. Pen wrapped the remains of Melanie's burger and put it in the refrigerator. She took out a can of coffee and began to prepare a pot.

    'Good idea,' Bodie said. 'It's going to be a long night.'

    'We could sleep in shifts,' Pen said.

    'I didn't bring one.'

    She laughed. 'You can borrow one of mine.'

    'A tempting offer,' Bodie said. He excused himself and headed for the hallway.

    While he was gone, apparently to use the toilet, Pen finished making the coffee. Then she carried a kitchen chair to the front door and tipped it backward, bracing its back under the knob. Just like Friday night, she thought, and remembered her terror the next morning when she saw an arm reaching in, trying to dislodge the chair. It had been Bodie, though, and she'd stabbed him.

    'I don't think that will keep Mel in,' Bodie said as he entered the living room.

    She smiled at him. 'Oh, darn.'

    'What's it for?'

    'Just in case.'

    'You afraid Harrison might try something?'

    'I doubt it. But you never know.'

    'You're about the most cautious person I've ever met.'

    'A streak of paranoia,' she said. 'I think it runs in the family.'

    Bodie sat near an end of the sofa. 'A broken clock has the right time twice a day, and even paranoids have enemies.'

    'Sometimes imaginary enemies. Look how I stabbed you yesterday.'

    'A mere nick.'

    'Fortunately. But it shows what can happen if you lose control.'

    'Hell, I was trying to force my way in. You didn't know who I was. I'd say the attack was justified.'

    'Justified, maybe, but a mistake. The coffee's probably ready.'

    She went into the kitchen, filled two mugs, and brought them out. She gave one to Bodie. 'Did you look in on Melanie?'

    'She's zonked out.'

    'Good. I need to get something.' Pen set her mug on the table and went to her bedroom. The closed curtains kept out the dim evening light. Melanie was a vague shape on the bed. Pen crept close to her. She heard the girl's long, slow breaths.

    
Zonked, all right.

    With those Quaaludes in her, she wouldn't be waking up for a very, very long time.

    Pen thought of her father in a coma.

    
I did this to Melanie.

    
She'll come out of it, Dad won't.

    
Yes, he will. He has to.

    Crouching, Pen slipped the shotgun out from under the bed. She carried it back into the living room. Bodie's eyes widened. 'What, me worry?' Pen asked.

    'Lordy lordy, I'd sure hate to get on your bad side.'

    'Damn right. I'm one bad dude.'

    'Can I see it?'

    'Sure. It's loaded, by the way.'

    'Wouldn't do much good otherwise.'

    She handed it to him, then picked up her coffee mug and sat at the other end of the sofa. She turned sideways to face him, bringing her knees up against the back cushion.

    'A beaut,' Bodie said. He shouldered the weapon, aimed it across the room, lowered it onto his lap and stroked its walnut stock. 'Real nice.'

    'I just bought it this morning.'

    'Twelve-gauge?'

    Pen nodded. 'With special magnum cartridges.'

    'Wicked. I guess Harrison better not mess with you.'

    'I didn't have him in mind,' she said, and took a drink of coffee as Bodie turned to look at her.

    'The caller?'

    'Yeah.'

    'I'd almost forgotten about him. All this other stuff going on.'

    'I wish I could forget about him,' she said, and drank more coffee. 'I'd better put that shotgun someplace.' She set her mug on the table.

    Bodie leaned sideways and passed the weapon to her. She stood up. 'I want to keep it handy in case.'

    'You don't want Melanie to spot it,' Bodie advised. 'You must be a mind reader.'

    She propped the shotgun against the wall between the front door and the end of the sofa, hidden behind the curtains. Then she pulled the draw cord. The curtains skidded shut. 'A symptom of paranoia,' she said. 'You don't want people looking in.'

    'An uncle of mine was killed that way,' Bodie told her. 'He was in his living room one night with the lights on and the drapes open. Someone out on the street plinked him.'

    'My God, really?'

    'It was just one of those random things. I guess he made an irresistible target.'

    Pen shook her head. 'The things that happen in this world.'

    'Can't be too careful.'

    'My motto.' She turned on a lamp. 'More coffee?'

    'Sure.'

    She took the mugs into the kitchen, filled them and returned. She gave a mug to Bodie, then sat at her end of the sofa. 'It's all a little frightening,' she said.

    ' "We are here as on a darkling plain swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight…" '

    ' "Where ignorant armies clash by night," ' Pen said. Bodie grinned. 'Hey, how about letting me read one of your stories?'

    Pen's stomach did a little flip. 'Okay,' she said. 'If you're sure…'

    'Sure.'

    Nervously, she took another drink of coffee. Then she got up and went to the bookcase. She pulled down a copy of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and handed it to Bodie. 'Remember, William Faulkner I ain't.'

    'They paid you for this, right?'

    'Yep.'

    'Then, Faulkner or not, it's quite an accomplishment.'

    'Thanks,' she muttered. 'Page 93.'

    He opened the magazine and began to read.

    
My story,
Pen thought. She was pleased, but embarrassed. She didn't know what to do with herself while he read it, so she crouched over her suitcase and took out the paperback she had started reading Friday night in the tub.

    She sat on the sofa and opened it.

    Bodie turned a page.

    She wondered if he liked the story so far.

    It was pretty shallow, really.

    She tried to read the paperback, but her gaze kept straying from the page to Bodie at the other end of the sofa. His face looked solemn. He brushed a hank of light brown hair off his forehead, but it flopped down again.

    Pen forgot about the book on her lap and forgot to worry about Bodie's reaction to her short story. She stared at him - his hair glossy in the lamplight, his shirt rumpled in front from the way he was slouched, one foot propped on the other knee, the old running shoe half off and dangling from his toes, a disk of pink skin showing through a hole in the heel of his sock.

    She wanted to scoot over the sofa to his side.

    
Ah, but you won't,
she told herself.

    
Melanie's out for the count.

    
Don't even consider it.

    Bodie, eyes still on the story, shook his head and muttered, 'Oh, my God.' He closed the magazine. He looked at Pen and shook his head some more. He grinned. 'Man, I was worried sick about her and all the time she's the one hunting them.'

    'Does that mean you liked it?'

    'You reversed everything. The final line of the story, you turned it all upside-down. Yeah, I think it's terrific. Nice writing, too. I felt as if I were inside her, feeling everything she felt, going through it all. Really nice. If you turned this in to me as a student, I'd give it an A minus.'

    Pen, delighted, forced herself to scowl. 'Why the minus?'

    'To keep you from getting cocky.'

    She laughed. 'Thanks, anyway.'

    'Do you have some more I could read?'

    'That's the only published one.'

    'I don't care.'

    'Let's quit while I'm ahead.'

    'Come on,' he said. 'We've got all night.'

    
And only tonight,
Pen thought.
I don't want to spend it all watching him read my stories
.

    'Well, maybe one more.'

    She drank the rest of her coffee, then went into her office and turned on the light. She felt shaky and excited.

    She needed badly to use the bathroom - all that coffee. But she sat at her desk and slid open the deep bottom drawer. Each of the manila folders was labeled with a story title. She flipped through them with trembling fingers.

    Better pick one fast, she thought, before I burst.

    She pulled out the folder for The McDougal Stone' and opened it on her lap. On top of the paper-clipped manuscript were three rejection slips.

    
Maybe he can tell me what's wrong with it.

    
Hell, I thought it was good.

    She took out the manuscript and put the folder away.

    As she stood up, her eyes met the answering machine. The voice filled her head, tearing apart her good feelings, turning her insides cold and tight. She looked quickly at the window. Its curtains were shut.

    
He can't see me.

    
Maybe he saw the light come on. If he lives in the building…

    
But he can't call and he knows I'm not alone. Nothing to worry about. Not tonight.

    
He has my panties.

    She rushed out of the office and some of her fear eased when she entered the living room and saw Bodie in the lamplight, looking so calm and comfortable - and happy.

    'This one's been rejected a few times,' she said, handing the story to him.

    'Must really stink.'

    She laughed. 'Back in a minute,' she said, and hurried to the bathroom. Bodie had left the toilet seat down. Very considerate. She quickly opened her white shorts and pulled them down her legs. She hooked her thumbs under the sides of her panties, tugged them down, and sat.

    And stared at the skimpy lace panties drawn taut between her ankles.

    Bodie heard the toilet flush. Expecting Pen to return in a few seconds, he watched the dark entrance to the hallway. And waited.

    Apparently, she wasn't coming back right away.

    He read more of the story, and almost finished it before he heard a door open. Pen's footsteps were slow and quiet in the hallway. Then she stepped into the living room.

    She raised a hand in a hesitant greeting. A smile faltered on her face. Her nose was a little red and her eyes were red and puffy. 'More coffee?' she asked in a chipper voice.

    'No thanks. Are you all right?'

    Nodding, she sat at her end of the sofa. 'Finished the story yet?'

    'No. What's wrong? You've been crying.'

    'It's ridiculous.'

    'It can't be ridiculous if it upset you that much.' Leaning forward, he dropped the manuscript onto the coffee table. He turned toward Pen. She was bent forward, elbows on knees, her head drooping. Bodie, frowning, scooted closer and put his hand on her back. She didn't flinch or tell him to stop. He rubbed her gently between the shoulder blades, aware of her warm smoothness through the blouse.

    'Ever get the feeling that you've lost your grip?'

    'Slipped a few cogs?'

    She nodded. The hair hanging over her face shimmered in the lamplight.

    'Yeah,' Bodie said. 'Sometimes. What happened?'

    'It's that guy who called Friday night. Even with everything else, I haven't been able to get him off my mind.'

    'That's understandable.'

    'My God, he had me so rattled that I stabbed you. I mean, I blew everything out of proportion. I put that stupid trip-cord across my doorway and damn near cracked my head open, then I stabbed you, for Christ-sake.'

    'I'm not complaining.'

    'I was so messed up, I actually believed he would come here and try to rape me. I was certain of it.'