Catch & Neutralize (13 page)

Chapter 24

The sun’s evening ritual of sinking behind mountains had begun. Shadows and dust motes danced across the kitchen. Tiffany sat at the breakfast nook with Scott following. Angie set the
Party Girl Fund
jar near the sink, ceramic clanking once against marble. She picked up the potato peeling instrument, inspecting its blade.

Angie reminded: “Tiffany, I thought you said something about cocktails.”

“Sure did.” Tiffany stood and made her way over to the pantry. Before opening the door, she turned and asked, “I hope Bahama Mamas are okay. It’s all I’ve got.”

“That’ll do,” Scott said pulling his head to the side, attempting to crack neck bones. “I don’t drink very often, but this is a special circumstance.” He pulled his head to the other side and back again. No crackling sounds were heard.

Angie replaced the potato peeler on the counter, tossed an eye roll at Scott, and then moved to help Tiffany.

Inside the pantry, Angie waited for the door to click into place before she resumed speaking, this time in a whisper. “Here’s some Percocet. They’re leftovers from my husband’s gallbladder surgery.”

She opened her hand revealing a palm full of blue tablets, the number ten etched into the sides. “Bottle said one every six hours as needed for pain. I think we should crush two for Scott’s drink. When he starts getting woozy, we’ll escort him to my car. He’ll fall asleep while I’m driving back to Macaroons. Then I’ll dump him in the parking lot near the dumpster. Make sure you get his phone. That’s your job.”

Watching Angie’s lips move, Tiffany nodded agreement.

“I figured you wouldn’t take his Dumbo ear.” Angie leaned closer. “I didn’t really want you to do it anyway. I was just mad. Besides, he’s not worth it. Too many people have seen him with us. We’d get caught.” She placed the Percocet tablets on the shelf. “You crush a couple of those and mix them into Scott’s drink. I’ll take him upstairs and keep him busy, so try not to take too long.” She made a face that resembled gagging. “Hurry, okay?”

Tiffany collected the pills, slipping them into her pocket. “Sounds perfect.” She grabbed a basket from the wall and started placing the required drink items inside.

“Hey, do you really want a threesome with this idiot? I mean, you seem into him.”

Tiffany turned to face Angie and whispered, “No. I’m acting. I don’t like the guy at all.”

Angie’s eyes searched Tiffany’s. “Glad to hear it. He’s not a good guy. I’m not into that kind of thing either.” She grabbed a jar of strawberry preserves and said, “I’m going to take this and put it on the counter so it looks like I was helping you.” She winked. “I’ll be upstairs with Scott. I don’t want to be alone with him for long. He creeps me out. Seriously, hurry.”

After Angie left the pantry, Tiffany took four of the pills and placed them inside a snack sized baggie. She collected the remaining ingredients and counted to fifty before leaving. Good thing she did. Walking to the sink, she heard mumbles from Angie and Scott as they shuffled upstairs.

After filling four hurricane glasses with the alcoholic mixture, Tiffany placed the baggie of pills on a bamboo cutting board. She felt under a spotlight of deception. So many things were going on right now. Lie after lie after lie, lying to everyone.

Tiffany pressed down on the pills with a scalloped serving spoon until the consistency of fine, blue powder.

Two glasses with straws, the other two—in case one wasn’t enough for Scott—got pill powder. The scalloped spoon tolled high-pitched clangs against crystal as the blue dust dissolved. Tiffany piled all four glasses onto a silver tray. The potato peeler shimmered on the counter in the overhead glow.

She didn’t trust Scott Dovy. He had some weird grudge against Angie that didn’t make any sense. Either something else was going on, or he was a fledgling psycho about to turn serial killer. Tiffany grabbed an inconspicuous weapon for her own safety.

Tiffany walked slowly, a precaution against spilling the drinks. Dim wall lamps barely illuminated the hallway. Her shoes whispered against tile. The potato peeler hidden inside a pocket thumped her thigh with each step.

Chapter 25

Scott watched Angie turn the desk chair so it was facing the bed and plop onto it. She hiked one leg over the chair’s arm. He imagined the sensation of cool air floating up her dress and wished he could be that air.

His eyes crawled up her leg, attention lingered where her dress began mid thigh before trolling back down. When he got to her ankles, he asked, “Why don’t you take off your shoes, Mrs. Carter, and let me touch your feet? How about a foot rub?”

“All right.” She lifted a leg, crotch nearly exposed. And, maybe it would’ve been if the lighting were better. “Oh,” Angie returned her leg to the arm of the chair, “before I take off my shoes, will you grab the lotion from the bathroom?” She pointed. “It’s in there by the sink. I like the yellow one. It’s honeysuckle, I think.”

“No problem.”

Scott disappeared into the dark cave of the bathroom. He shut the door to reach the sink behind it. After switching on the lights, he saw a sparkle of metal just before his left cheek was pummeled.

Three sharp thrusts threw Scott back against the door, its knob digging into his kidney. He slid down to the tile, dizzy and already feeling swelling under the targeted eye. This not being his first ride down Beat Down Lane, Scott knew from the pain he wouldn’t be able to see through it much longer.

He looked up to see a tall man in police uniform holding a gardening shovel. “What the hell, man? Are you crazy?” Scott touched his wounded cheek and winced. “Why would you do that?”

“I could ask you the same questions, assface, but I don’t give a flying fuck about your answers. This is what happens to shitheads that try to steal my girlfriend.” The officer spoke through prominent neck muscles and clenched teeth. “You’re going wish you’d never even seen her.”

Scott scrambled to his feet. He remembered Tiffany said she used to date a cop.

“Wait. I didn’t know Tiffany had a boyfriend. I thought you were her ex.” Scott held his hands up as Officer Stockton Wood pulled his gun from its holster. “I’m here for the other girl anyway. Angie Carter, she’s the one I want. Seriously, please. Don’t shoot me.”

Stockton’s finger shook against the trigger, clearly struggling not to press. It took a full fifteen seconds for him to bring the gun down. It felt like an eon to Scott.

After a deep breath, Stockton warned, “You keep your dirty little pecker strokers off my girl. If I see you touch her again or even look at her… let’s just say, you don’t want to know.” Stockton shuffled his stance to the other foot, arms held away from his sides with gun in one hand and gardening shovel in the other. “Got it?”

Scott’s heart beat fast and hard like it was trying to knock out his chest. “Yes, sir. I swear, sir.”

“You swear what, asshole?” Stockton’s icy eyes glared with hatred.

“I’ll keep my dirty little pecker strokers off your girl.” His voice cracked as if he were either going through puberty or about to cry. “Please officer, I didn’t know. I’ll never touch her.” Although the gun was no longer pointed at him, Scott kept his hands in the air. “I swear.”

Movement in the doorway caught their attention. Tiffany stood dressed in a skimpy maid uniform like ones often worn by hot Halloween sluts or married old ladies seeking fantasy bedroom activities. She held a platter supporting four glasses of red liquid at the same level as her cleavage.

“Hello, Stockton,” Tiffany said, red lips glistening. “That’s not very nice. My friend won’t be happy about you hurting her boyfriend.”

Stockton’s eyes devoured Tiffany. Scott kept his head facing the tile, but his peripheral vision couldn’t avoid the sexy servant.

“Why don’t you boys come out here and have a drink? Us girls get lonely without the company of our designated escorts.” Her tongue glided sensually over shiny lips before she turned away.

As soon as Tiffany was out of sight, Stockton placed the gardening shovel on the counter and holstered his piece.

Glaring at Scott, he warned: “Remember what I said. Keep your hands and eyes off Tiffany or,” he drew his hand up like a gun, placed it on Scott’s forehead, and pretended to shoot, “you’re dead.” Stockton’s fingernail dug into Scott’s skin before he pulled it away.

“I won’t,” Scott said putting his hands up again and shaking his head, eyes wide. The angry half-moon indentation on his forehead might have vouched for his credibility.

“Good.” Officer Wood turned and left the bathroom.

Not far behind, Scott carried a yellow bottle of honeysuckle scented lotion.

They entered the bedroom to find Angie on her stomach, lying across the bed studying her fingernails. Tiffany held the drapes apart peering out the window. Drinks were perched on a small table near the fireplace along with a potato peeler.

Tiffany released the drapes, a heavy
whoosh
as they fell into place. Pushing her glasses up, she asked, “Who’s ready for a drink?”

Angie crawled over the bed, her rump gloriously rounded and high-reaching. An inch or two more, and Scott would catch a glimpse of everything he wanted from her.

“I know I am,” Angie said. Off the bed, she grabbed two frosty glasses and immediately sucked on a straw. The other she held out for Tiffany.

“Thanks, snow pea. Let’s give our guests one too.” Tiffany brought the straw to her glossy lips, nothing more than a sip. “Stockton, there are two drinks without straws. I don’t see a man like you needing one.”

She licked the tip of her own straw as if that proved her point.

Turning eyes to Scott, Tiffany asked, “Why don’t you grab one, Scott? There’s no reason why we all can’t be friends. Two couples, four friends, having a drink.” Eyes back on her ex-boyfriend, “Right, Stockton?”

Stockton smiled at Tiffany, shot Scott the evil eye, and returned his gaze to Tiffany with a nod. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem as long as Tweedle Dumb here keeps his hands off you.”

Another angry glare thrown in Scott’s direction before Stockton took two large gulps of the red concoction. “Thanks for the drink, Tiffany. It’s not as sweet as I thought it’d be.” He raised it towards her before downing the last of it.

Angie sat on the edge of the bed still holding her drink. Using the front of one shoe, she peeled down the back of the other and removed it. The freed shoe clanked against the hard wood.

“Scott,” she pointed at the pillows leaning against the headboard, “I see you’ve brought the lotion. Come sit over here.”

Scott did as he was told. Sitting in the spot indicated by Angie, his eyes focused on her toes. She placed one foot on his lap and held out her hand, palm up. When Scott took the offered hand, Angie pulled her hand back as if burned.

“No. I want to hold the lotion,” she said with a sigh. Her head shook slowly and at an angle as though Scott were the biggest idiot she’d ever encountered.

As soon as he granted her request, Angie’s lips curled into a grin. Holding the bottle by its neck, she brought it back towards her armpit and slung it forward. The bottle struck Scott in the already swollen area of his cheek, breaking the skin. Pale yellow lotion splattered, mixing with the fresh ooze of blood. The strange combination ran down his face, looking like the world’s largest puss-filled boil just exploded. Scott yelped, grabbing at the wound.

“Why, Mrs. Carter?” His voice had the whiney, squeaky sound of a misshapen Ferris wheel.

Angie drew her foot back from his lap and slammed the heel against his crotch. Scott let out a high-pitched shriek and fell on his side, hands grabbing at the pain.

“Because you’re a moron. I tell you what, Scott, this is not going to go down with you getting laid and walking away with fifty-thousand dollars.” Angie snickered and continued, “This is going to end with
you
giving me that phone and going away nicely, never to be seen by
us
again. Or, my preferred method, this ends with
me
taking that phone and
you
going away, never to be seen by
anyone
again.”

Scott sat up holding his crotch, his face red and eyes damp. A skinny line of snot dangled from one nostril. It felt sticky, and he imagined it looked like some kind of alien brain-eating snail trying to escape the misery of starvation. He figured Angie thought he was as a halfwit, and at this point, he felt like one.

Fine, you hateful bitch. Enjoy the scene.

Scott let the snot glisten on his upper lip for a full minute before wiping it away with the back of his hand. He sniffled and smeared it against the bed, spreading the residual slime. He pulled an edge of the comforter up and gently patted the crud from his face. The gesture left an oily trail of snot, lotion, and blood on the luxurious comforter.

“Okay,” he said at last, “I’ll give you the damn phone.”

“Oh, that’s so nice of you, Scotty boy.” Angie held out her hand, palm up. “You wouldn’t want me to ask Stockton for assistance, would you? He seems to like you about as much as I do. Maybe less, if that’s possible.”

“No. Here it is. And, don’t call me that anymore.” Still protecting his manhood with one hand, Scott used the other to dig the cell phone from his pants pocket. His hand shook as he laid the phone on Angie’s palm.

A snore, like an oddly timed joke, erupted from Stockton drawing Scott’s and Angie’s attention. The strong prescription painkiller had done its job. Tiffany already held Stockton’s police issued gun and now pointed it directly at Scott’s bruised eye.

“Take off your clothes,” she ordered.

“What?” Scott’s voice rose. “Why? What the fuck are you doing, Tiffany?”

Tiffany made circles in the air around Scott’s torso with the gun. “I said, take off your clothes.”

Angie clapped, blonde hair bouncing. “Yes, Scott, take them off!” She clapped again, more bouncing. “Get naked!”

Scott pushed himself from the bed and began doing as told. Hands moving slowly, he fumbled with the button of his pants.

Tiffany held the gun at his chest. “Hurry up, Scott. We ain’t got all night.”

“I… I’m… My hands are numb.” He squeezed his hands, rubbed them together. Why do you want my clothes? Mrs. Carter said I wasn’t, ya know, getting laid.”

Both girls laughed.

Tiffany answered, “You’ll see.”

Scott worked at unfastening the button of his pants then sat on the bed to remove his shoes. He kicked them underneath and appeared to check his socks before pulling and tossing them on the floor. They looked dingy but without holes. Standing, he pulled his pants down.

“Now, step out of the pants. And don’t forget to remove your shirt.”

Tiffany looked behind Scott at Angie and ordered, “Delete the pictures.”

“What’s the code to unlock your cell, Scott?” Angie asked with a mixture of disgust and excitement racing over her features.

“It’s my month and day. Zero, five, one, two. May twelfth, my birthday.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Typical,” she said through an exhalation.

Angie pulled up photos stored in Scott’s phone, sliding quickly through.

“Nice shots, stalker” she said glancing at Scott. “They’re all just me.”

Deleting dozens of pictures, she said, “How were you planning on blackmailing me with pictures like this? I mean, nice shots of my chest, face, and behind, but all this trouble and not a single photo of me with anyone else? You really are an idiot.”

Scott stared at the floor while trying to hide his nakedness behind his hands. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Mrs. Carter. I really need the cash.” He sniffled. “Plus, you’re gorgeous.”

“So you think blackmailing is the answer? Maybe a little rape on the side?”

Scott could see Angie’s fury bubbling.

“No. I’d never do that. I swear.”

Angie held up his cell phone. “I should break your nose with this and then shove it up your scrawny ass. Instead, go over to Stockton and take his clothes off too.”

“What?” Scott couldn’t believe it. “Are you serious? That cop will kill me the second he wakes up. He almost killed me in the bathroom over nothing, fully clothed.”

“Do it.” Tiffany nodded from Scott to Stockton. “Do as Angie says. This is not an option for you.”

“Oh, come on!” Scott turned to follow instructions, showing his pale, muscular buttocks in the process.

From the corner of his eye, Scott saw Angie leap from the bed just before feeling a hard slap to his ass. The sound pierced the quiet room and stung tears to his eyes.

He turned to see Angie flapping her hand around trying to cool the heat. Scott felt the perfect imprint of her palm, an outline of burning numbness.

Angie and Tiffany giggled.

Scott fell to his knees trying to rub the pain away.

He yelled: “This really sucks! Dammit, Tiffany! This is not the way this was supposed to go down.”

He knew humiliation and anger had turned his face a blushing shade of pink, felt the warmth radiating from neck to scalp.

“Well, Scotty boy, you’re the one that put himself in this position,” Angie stated matter-of-factly. “I can only imagine what kind of horrors you had lined up for me.” She placed her hands over her cheeks, mouth and eyes wide circles of mock shock. “Failure of the epic sort.” Angie lowered her hands, resting them on her hips like a scolding mother. “So here we are.”