and along came SPIDER ( A Martina Spalding Thriller ) (Spider Series Book 1) (11 page)

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

The following morning,
Gloria pranced around the living room as Martina looked on.  “How do I look?”

“The makeup is fine. 
You can hardly tell.  And I love the dress.  Do you have it on?”

“Yep.”  Gloria raised
the dress to expose the holster, pistol in it, strapped just above the knee on
the inside of her left leg.

“Did you do what I told
you?”

“Yes.  I slept with it
in my hand the entire night.  And, yes, I practiced injecting a cartridge into
the chamber every time I got up to pee.  I felt like Ma Barker sitting on the
pot, pumping that thing.”

“Okay, give it to me. 
I’ll load it.”

“Oh, Marti, do you have
to?”

“It isn’t going to do
you much good without bullets, now is it?  Just pretend it’s a cap gun.  Like
the one you played with as a kid.”

“You keep saying that,
but this thing is deadly,” she said, handing it over.

“Then pretend it
isn’t.  Just pull it and point.  You won’t squeeze the trigger unless your
life’s in danger.  I guarantee it.”

“Why are you that
sure?”

“Because you’re not a
killer, Gloria!  And neither am I.  But we will hurt someone to save ourselves. 
That’s only human nature.”  Marti handed the gun back fully loaded.  “Now come
on, I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“Oh my, this is heavier
now.”  She pulled up her dress, popped out a leg, and reinserted it into the
holster.

“You’ll get used to
it.”  Martina took a freshly pressed Spencer House uniform from the knob,
gathered her purse, and unlatched the door.  “Just remember, that’s part of you
now, day and night, from here on.”

An hour later, Marti
deposited her uniform in the nurse’s locker room on the fourth floor, then
passed by Gloria’s desk on the way out.  “Well, I’ll see you at four. 
Everything okay?”

“Yeah.  Except Mister
Harris looked at me strangely as he passed through.”

“You look fine.  I’m
going to see Parker.  Then I have some shopping to do.”

“Oh, Martina, while
you’re doing that, will you pick out a sexy night dress for me?”

With a question on her
lips, Marti glared.  She knew Gloria slept in the nude.  And there wasn’t a
lover in her life now…

“I thought if I’m
expected to sleep with a pistol, I may as well give it the same respect I would
a man.”  She smiled broadly.  “They’re kind of the same, don’t you think?  I
mean they’re both loud, have a hot breath, and can fire off when you least
expect it.”  Gloria chuckled.

“That’s the spirit,” Marti
said, and laughed.  “Any particular color?”

“You choose.”

“So you’re serious?”

“Never been more.”

Marti looked at her
strangely.  “Okay.  Any particular shop?”

“Try Natalie’s on Main,
downtown.”  Gloria reached in her purse under the desk and came up with a
twenty dollar bill.

“You got it!”  Marti
took the money and walked away, still wondering if Gloria was alright.  Once
outside, she turned toward the apartment building parking lot, just up the
street.  Downtown, thirty blocks away, would require her car.  But she still
planned to visit Parker at the hospital, first.

Twenty minutes later
she was doing just that.  However, she found him in not such a good mood as
he’d been on her previous visits.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, wanting to snatch
that gloomy look off his face.  For a brief moment he appeared glad to see her,
then looked away.  The breakfast tray was still on the bed table, and it
appeared he’d hardly touched it.

“It’s Monday.  I ought
to be at work.”  He met her eyes.  “Needless to say my boss wasn’t too happy
when the hospital called to report my condition and said I couldn’t possibly
return for two more weeks.”

“Oh, Parker, I’m so
sorry.”  She dipped in for a kiss, which he did respond to, at least.

“Thanks, Doc.  I needed
that.”

“Me too!” she said
cheerfully, then giggled in an attempt to build his spirits.  “Any more naughty
dreams?”

“Every night,” his
voice cracked as he smiled deviously.

“Well, it’s good to
know your libido hasn’t suffered from all this.”

“Yeah.  I guess it pretty
much has a life of its own.  But then, it doesn’t need to punch a time clock to
survive.”

“Parker, are you in
need of money?”

“No.  I’m fine.  That
was just a miserable attempt at humor.”  He chuckled.  “It would be nice,
though, if he became more actively stimulated.”

“When you’re well,”
Marti said, with an uneasy smile.  She felt the need to kiss him again, but
began feeding him some fruity gelatin, instead.  Then, after the milky,
somewhat cold oatmeal and glass of juice, she undid the straps and gently
rolled him to his side.  In that position, she used the lotion available to
massage his back.  After a half hour of that, to Parker’s happy groans, she
reversed the process and reapplied the straps.

“Thanks, Doc,” Parker
said gratefully.  “A nurse just did that about an hour ago.  But I must say,
you did it better.”

“Well, thanks a lot,”
Marti said, smilingly. “You wait till now to tell me that?”

“I said you were much
better…”

“Two timer!” Martina
accused and went in for another kiss.

It was near noon before
she left the hospital, but to her credit, Parker was in better spirits when she
did.  After promising to return the following morning, she headed for her car,
intent on driving downtown.  Actually, when she told Gloria she planned to do
some shopping, it was window shopping she had in mind.  But now that there was
a real purpose to it, she was actually excited.  Maybe Natalie’s would have
something appealing for her, as well.

Marti hadn’t noticed
the baby blue Thunderbird follow her to the hospital.  Nor did she see it pull
from a side street and fall in, at a distance, behind her now.  And it wasn’t
that she wasn’t alert to her surroundings — she was.  But hers was
most concentrated on the immediate area of her travel, as opposed to a half
block or more away.

Natalie’s shouldn’t be
too hard to find, she thought.  After all, the library was at the crossroads of
First Avenue and Main.  It was just a matter of left or right, hit or miss,
until she found it.  How large could the downtown shopping district be anyway,
five or six blocks in either direction?

Once there, she went to
the right first, pulled into a gas station five blocks up, and circled back. 
Then, two blocks past First Avenue, she spotted the sign a half block up and
began looking for a parking spot.  She found one within a hundred feet of the
front door and pulled in.  However, the Ford Thunderbird behind her had to go
to the next block to find the first available opening thereafter.

Marti made one pass
through the almost exclusively lingerie establishment to get a feel for what
they had before circling back to the night dresses.  She found a pretty one
right off and held it up to herself in a nearby mirror.  Unfortunately, it was
made of cotton, and Gloria just wasn’t a cotton kind of gal.  Another rack
produced an array of silk gowns in great colors and patterns.  One in
red — Gloria was partial to red — had a low neckline,
puffy sleeves and a slit up both sides to the thigh.  Holding it up to herself
in the mirror — Gloria and she were near the same
size — Martina couldn’t believe how beautiful it was.  Checking the
price, she found it to be eighteen ninety-five.  With tax added it would come
to almost exactly twenty dollars.  Perfect!

Wandering back through
the store, several times she had to pause to avoid other
customers — female of course — as they shopped as
well.  Coming to a table of panties on sale, she dug through them and found a
frilly red pair to match the nightgown, and held them up to the light to see
how transparent they were.  That’s when she saw him, a man in a ten gallon
white hat with his back to her, going through a rack of terrycloth robes.  Just
the sight of a man present while she was shopping for panties, albeit not for
herself, embarrassed her.  She dropped the panties instantly and rushed to the
check-out line with the gown.  Looking back now, she saw the man moving farther
back in the store, where other customers were avoiding him like a plague as he
traveled.  Probably just some guy in need of a gift for his wife… or mistress.

Back in the car, Marti
checked her watch and saw that it was twelve thirty-five.  After that big
breakfast at eight, she really wasn’t all that hungry.  That’s when the little
coffee shop across the avenue from the library came to mind.  And perhaps if
she hurried, Gwyn Raizel would still be there, taking her lunch break.  And, if
she were, would Marti tell her of the violent attack that had occurred at her
apartment building, night before last?  Not likely.  Why dredge up old memories
for the octogenarian, forcing the poor woman to relive the horror of her
granddaughter’s murder all over again?

Pulling up to the curb,
she locked the car and went inside to a crowded dining room.  It seemed every
table was filled to capacity.  All except one — a booth by the
window.  And there sat Gwyn Raizel, her satchel-like purse on the table,
sipping an iced tea.  The empty white plate there as well indicated she had
already eaten.

“Gwyn,” Marti said,
coming up to face her, displaying a pleasant smile.

“Susannah?”  The old
woman’s mouth fell open as she focused on her.

“No, it’s Martina,
Gwyn…  Remember, you gave me the…”

“Of course it is.  I
know that.”  She recovered and drew up a slight smile.  “I was just thinking
about her, how beautiful she was.  You look so much like her.  Did you get your
hair cut, dear?”

“I did,” Marti said
cheerfully.  “Do you like it?”  She eyed the empty seat hoping to be invited to
sit.  But when that didn’t happen promptly, she eased down on it anyway, as if
just temporarily, her legs still in the walkway.

“Very pretty.”  Gwyn
continued to glare.  “It’s a fad, I guess.  Women always wore their hair long,
in my day.  Now it seems everyone is doing it.  Susannah had hers long until
just after she divorced Raym Koffee.  Then she whacked it all off.  Did it
herself.  I was so disappointed.  She looked like a porcupine for the longest
time.”  She chuckled and took a sip of her tea. “In fact, and I never told
anyone this before, but my pet name for her was
Sprout
,
and it was particularly fitting for her then, I thought.”

“Sprout,” Marti
repeated.  “Oh, that’s so cute.  But you didn’t call her that?”

“Oh, no, never.  It
would have hurt her feelings, even as a child, and I didn’t want that.”  Gwyn
laughed.  “Would you like something, dear?”

“Yes.  I think I’ll
have the apple turnover.  I bought one to go for my roommate last time I was
here with you.  She said it was scrumptious.”  Marti thought it was alright to
move her legs under the table now, seeing the waitress Gwyn had signaled coming
her way.

“Apple and black,” Gwyn
said before the girl could ask.  “Did I do okay?”

“You did fine.”  Marti
smiled to her, then nodded approval to the waitress.  “You remembered I drink
my coffee black.”

“Perhaps there’s hope
for me yet,” Gwyn said, sarcastically.  “I think I would be better if I had
some closure on Susannah’s death.  It consumes me, Martina…. leaves little room
for me to think of anything else.”

“Oh, Gwyn.  I’m so
sorry.”  She reached over and laid a hand on hers.

“Did the things I gave
you help, dear?”

“They did.”  Marti
brightened.  “At least I know what he looks like now.”

At that moment,
unbeknownst to either of them, the baby blue Thunderbird pulled into the Koffee
building parking lot across the street, and from it stepped Raym Koffee,
wearing a large, white, western hat.  Determinedly then, he marched to the
building’s entrance and went inside.

Acknowledging what she
said, Gwyn looked out the window, expecting to see across the street.  “Usually
he shows up over there this time of day.”  She leaned, in an attempt to see
around Martina’s 1949 Chevrolet sedan parked at the curb, but discovered that
impossible from where she sat.

Since Mondays were
predominately slow days at the library, Gwyn lingered on with Martina until
after three pm.  And by the time the two finally parted, plenty of laughter had
passed between them.  Marti had successfully brightened the day for another
person dear to her, and hope seeds were planted for a lasting friendship.  She
discovered Gwyn was a charming and delightful person, once her mind was taken
away from what troubled her the most.

Entering Spencer House
a half hour later, Marti saw Gloria was with a client.  She did, however,
signal she wanted to speak to her, when finished there.  “Give me ten,” was the
double hand sign used.  From that, Marti gathered she had time to go upstairs
and change, so as to be ready when her shift began at four.