Catch & Neutralize (8 page)

Chapter 13

Scott Dovy snuck behind the building. He witnessed the entire scene, even heard some of what had been said. As his fingers slid through pictures captured by his cell, Scott’s lips curled into a wicked sneer. A bout of laughter erupted as he zoomed in on the photo of Mrs. Carter’s perfect tits.

She’s so easy, nothing but a drunkard slut sponging off her rich husband.

YOU ARE NEXT huh?

You bet I am. I’m going to squeeze you dry, Mrs. Carter.

Scott started concocting his latest plan, which included using these pictures to get Mrs. Carter into bed and make her hand over some cash. Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he strode into the restaurant with head held high and a snicker of delight.

What’s so special about that Land Rover guy anyway? He looks like a cocky prick.

As Scott reached the podium, Angie reentered the building. “Hello, Mrs. Carter. Would you like a table? How about a date with me?”

Angie’s laugh rang genuine. “You’re too funny,” she hesitated, taking a step closer to see his nametag. “So funny, Scott. No date and no table, thanks. I’m headed out to the patio.”

After fumbling to take the phone from his pocket, he held it up saying, “Wait, Mrs. Carter. I’ve got something to show you.”

She turned with a noisy exhalation, making an obvious point of looking at his nametag again. “Scott, I’m not in the mood for games, not in the mood for busboy flirtations. Keep it professional, or I’ll file a complaint.”

He plucked at his phone –
tap, tap, swipe, tap –
and turned the screen to Angie.

Taking a step closer, Angie looked at the photo then glared at Scott. Through gritted teeth she whispered, “Why are you following me? I don’t care about your pictures, you little irrelevant boy. Those are pictures of me talking with my attorney. Maybe I should call him and file a suit against you for privacy invasion.”

Scott stared at her, mouth hanging open. “Oh, Really?” After sliding fingers over the screen, he flashed Angie the photo of her scantily clad breasts, “Is this how you
pay
your attorney?”

“All right.” Angie sighed. With another glance at his nametag, she ran a hand through her fair-haired mane. She gave a second attempt, her tone like venom. “All right, Scott, what is it that you want exactly?”

Now we’re getting somewhere!

Eyes gliding over Angie’s curves, Scott answered, “Just one date and a little cash.”

Angie’s eyes narrowed. “How much is a little?”

Scott pursed his lips and rubbed his chin thinking, “Uhhhh, fifty thousand should do it.”

Clenching her fists, Angie growled, “No! Too much.”

“Actually, it’s not too much.” Scott voice deepened, head held at an angle. “Your car alone costs more than three times that amount. I’ll delete the pics if you give me fifty-K and go on a date with me. I’ll pay for the date.”

“You’ll pay, huh?” Angie’s eyes tapered to slits. She sucked on her bottom lip then ejected: “All right. Fifty thousand dollars and you handover the phone. You can buy a new one with that kind of cash.”

Scott could tell Angie was pissed, but since his plan was working it didn’t matter. “And don’t forget a date with me.”

Scott watched Angie grind her teeth with pressure hard enough to make her jaw muscles twitch. FURY: today’s heat churning atmosphere.

“Fifty-K, one date, and then you will delete the pictures and hand over your cell phone.” She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “Deal.”

Pleased with the agreement, Scott held out his hand to shake on it. Angie looked down at the offered hand and shook her head with a hard blink. “Whatever, asshole.”

“Okay, um, when do you want to meet? My shift ends at 10 p.m.”

“I can’t today, jerk off. I don’t have that kind of money laying around, and the banks are closed at this hour.”

“What about tomorrow? It’s my day off, but I have class until noon. I’d skip it, but I’ve got a test to take.” Scott wouldn’t miss calculus with Miss Turner for anything, test or no test. Miss Turner had the sexiest legs he’d ever seen. She liked wearing those lacy garter-things with short skirts. Once, she bent over treating Scott to a glimpse. He’d been fantasizing about it for months, but details were fading. He didn’t want to miss any chances of refreshing that memory. “I definitely can’t miss that test, but I’m free anytime after, say, 2 p.m.”

“Fine, 2 p.m. We’ll meet here in the parking lot.”

Angie looked as if her head would explode, red-faced and fuming. Scott didn’t care, not one bit.

“Great!” A smile crept over him like the Joker winning an argument against Batman, completely satisfied with his cleverness. He’d won! “Let’s exchange digits. Just in case.”

Scott felt hatred pouring from Angie, dangerous and smothering. She added his phone number to her contacts. Scott’s fingers
tap, tap, tapped
over his cell display as she recited her number.

After repeating the information, Scott smiled triumphantly. “I guess that’s it. I’m looking forward to our date. Wear something sexy, if ya know what I mean.” Scott provided an open-mouthed eye wink.

After giving another head shake, Angie turned and stomped through Macaroons to the patio bar. Scott watched until Angie was out of sight before retrieving the picture of her breasts and assigning it to her contact name. He chuckled thinking about the way her perky tits would light up the screen whenever she called.

Chapter 14

Dr. Tiffany Bell still sat in the same seat sipping another Appletini.

Where is that dumb bitch?

Scott’s never going to go through with his part of the deal if I can’t keep track of her.

Tiffany glanced around the patio and waved as Angie approached. “Is everything okay? I was just about to come check on you.”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I got caught up in a couple of idiotic conversations along the way. It seems like you’re the only person not trying to piss me off tonight.”

Tiffany slid her glasses up. “I’d never do that. Not on purpose anyway. I think we’re going to be great friends, you and me.”

“I’m sick of being here. You want to go somewhere else?”

Tiffany nodded. “We could hang out at my place for a while.”

“Sure. Let’s stop by the liquor store first… unless you’ve got a fully stocked bar. With the way tonight’s going, I’m going to need numerous drinks to function properly.”

“No,” Tiffany confessed. “Not stocked, but there’s a store on the way.”

Tiffany paid with her credit card. Angie wrote on the slip, “Scott is rude and obnoxious!!!” The words were written with enough force to tear through the flimsy paper.

Scott. That little scammer better get to the manor as soon as his shift’s over,
Tiffany thought.
I’m an idiot for agreeing to his stupid plan.

Tiffany and Angie headed out arm in arm. Tiffany wobbled along pretending to be in no condition for driving. Angie helped her onto the Spyder’s passenger seat.

Neither one knew Scott watched from his post, or that his thoughts immediately turned to girls kissing and naked pillow fighting.

Chapter 15

Pandora played In This Moment’s latest single. Angie hummed along as she followed Tiffany’s directions towards the outskirts of town.

The drive took them through a dense portion of Jemez Springs. Looming mountains and stooping trees gave an eerie feeling of being watched. At this hour and with winding two-lane road, it was nearly impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. Night caved around them, an all-encompassing black hole. Music silenced as cell phone reception failed.

“It’s kind of spooky this way at night.” Angie switched on the Spyder’s high beams. Two lights showing nothing much turned into two larger lights showing the same.

“I’m used to it. The worst part is no cell service. We’ll have it back in about 15 minutes.” Tiffany pulled out her phone jabbing it with a finger, the wrong finger, the one with a blister. “Damn!” she said waving her hand to ward off pain.

“What is it?” Fear shadowed Angie’s concern. She leaned forward, pressing on the gas pedal.

“It’s okay, nothing really. I forgot about this blister on the tip of my finger and tried using it on my phone. Seriously, it’s not a big deal. You can slow down.”

Angie eased off the gas pedal but continued her usual ten over the limit. “I got a little freaked.”

“It’s okay.” Tiffany was about to put the throbbing finger inside her mouth but blew on it instead.

“So, what happened to your finger? Rub one out too enthusiastically?”

“You’re a real funny girl.” After slipping her middle finger over an eyebrow, Tiffany slid her glasses up. “It was really weird actually. After seeing my last patient today, I locked up. When I got back to my office, there was some goop on the carpet. I tried figuring out what it was and when I touched it, this happened.” She held her blistered finger up, using her phone for light.

“Looks like a chemical burn,” Angie said shifting her eyes back to the road. “You should probably get a doctor to look at it. Not only that, you should get a company that deals with toxic waste out there to clean up.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a clean-up crew coming tomorrow morning,” Tiffany said looking away. “It’s more expensive on weekends, but I’ve got a full patient load Monday. And, I’m not going to a doctor for this. It looks worse than it is.”

“If you say so.” Angie sensed Tiffany was lying. “Any idea what the goop is?”

“No, not a clue.” Babying the blister, Tiffany fluffed her curls. “When I left my office to lock the front door, it wasn’t there. At least, I didn’t see it. But when I came back, about a minute later, there it was.”

“It’s probably something that leaked from building material. I’d get it cleaned up and not worry about it anymore.”

“Building material?” Tiffany paused, pressing her lips together. “I’m probably being slowly and systematically poisoned. Just renting the damn place, so you never know.”

“Maybe you should consider breaking the lease, threatening a lawsuit?” Angie remembered the incident with Kyle Caldwell and rubbed an earlobe, one of her nervous habits. “And speaking of lawsuit, I met a really nice attorney today. I’d be happy to contact him for you.”

“Let me get it cleaned up and figure out where it came from. Thanks for the offer. I’ll let you know.”

They drove in silence, each contemplating her future. As soon as the Spyder made it through protected territory, music began pumping through the stereo again. It was a trash tune from a band Angie had never heard. She listened a few seconds before hitting the thumbs down symbol. The stereo stopped abruptly before discharging “Reincarnate,” a previously thumbed up tune, composed by Motionless in White.

A glance at Tiffany verifying she was busy with her own thoughts, Angie mouthed the lyrics as she drove, lip-syncing each word perfectly. Rage danced over her features as their smooth, dramatic lyrics silently emitted from her lips.

Angie’s mind whirled, pupils expanding to match her imagination. What if her next mission was at a concert or video shoot? Either would be an interesting assignment. She could get autographs, take photos, maybe hang out. Fun stuff.

Angie smiled. Although her job could get adventurous, she highly doubted a musical project was in her future. It was fun to daydream.

“Go left at the next turnoff,” Tiffany announced startling Angie out of her fantasy rock star assignment. “There’s no stoplight or anything, so you might want to slow down. You don’t want to miss it because the next turn around isn’t for another eight miles. The road is too tiny and the mountain too steep to maneuver a turnabout without killing us.”

Angie did as she was told, making the exit without hassle.

“You live pretty far from the city. You don’t mind driving all this way to work every day?”

“It’s only about an hour away. I like living out here in the mountains and on the river, no one to bother me. Plus, I doubt anyone would drive out this far for therapy. Most patients like doctors close to their homes.”

“You live on the river? I mean, directly?” Angie was surprised that this modestly dressed therapist wearing nerdy glasses and worn shoes could afford such a piece of property. “Do you rent or own?”

Tiffany sat up straighter obviously trying to impress. “Oh, I own it. The property is a family heirloom. It’s been passed down through generations.”

“When’s the next turn off?”

“There’re no more turns. Just follow this road and we’ll run into it.”

Angie’s eyes grew wide. “So, you’re saying this road is your driveway? Seriously?”

Tiffany’s eyes glistened in light cascading from lampposts lining the two-lane street. “This road belongs to the property. So yes, I suppose it’s my driveway.”

“You sure are full of surprises, Dr. Tiffany Bell.”

“Life is nothing without surprises.”

As Tiffany’s house came into view, Angie’s eyebrows raised and her mouth opened.

Tiffany gave full disclosure. A gothic style, three-story brick building situated in the middle of sixty-eight acres. Although the riverfront property could be considered worth a fortune now, it was originally obtained through an exchange of cattle in the late 1600s: seven horses, three goats, and a donkey named Daisy. The property’s name and street address reflected the buyer and original price: Bell Manor at 731 Daisy Lane.

The structure looked more like a European college hall than a New Mexican residence. It appeared well kept with several recent updates. Rustic bricks matching the house formed a fence with wrought iron gate. It seemed quite capable of keeping its occupants safe from intruders or keeping its occupants from escaping. Focused in a slew of lights, a large fountain shot water over an enormous marbled pitchfork.

Angie marveled at the near perfect beauty. She could hardly believe this psychologist with a cheap, goofy sense of style lived in such a grand setup. She blinked once and asked, “Where should I park?”

“In the garage, either side. It’s basically empty.”

With wrought iron accents, the garage sported two large doors, one double and a single. Angie pulled up to the single and waited while Tiffany fumbled in her purse until the electric door rumbled open.

Pulling into the garage, Angie asked, “Is there some meaning behind the pitchfork?”

A crease formed between Tiffany’s brows. “Pitchfork?”

“Yes, the pitchfork fountain.”

“Oh,” Tiffany laughed. “That’s a trident, weapon of the water god Neptune. My grandfather added it when he inherited the place. He was totally in love with mystical impressions of the ocean. You know, mermaids and sea monsters like the Kraken, all those sorts of things. He had most of the house redecorated in nautical style. It’s cool, so I left it.”

Tiffany took Angie’s hand. “Come on. You’ll see.”

The garage apparatus grumbled again as the heavy door made its way back down. Tiffany led the way inside with her comfortable clodhoppers thumping and Angie’s overpriced stilettos clacking.

Angie’s grip tightened as they entered the dark house. Tiffany pulled her closer. With a touch to the wall, the kitchen lighted in reverse dimming fashion.

Angie made an audible inhalation before whistling. “This is so fancy. Your home is incredible.” Her eyes scanned the room, drinking in its splendor. “Does it also have a secret dungeon?”

Tiffany threw a side look, bouncing a shoulder dance. “I guess you could call it that.”

“That’s so cool!” Angie laughed at Tiffany’s goofy movement.

“I’ll take you to see it in a bit, give you the full tour if you’d like.”

Angie could barely hold her excitement. “Hell yeah! But first, an alcoholic beverage is imperative to my good mood and self-love.”

“I could use one myself.” Checking the bubble on her finger, Tiffany said, “I’m going to put a Band-Aid on this and then I’ll fix us something fruity. Is a Bahama Mama okay for you? We forgot to stop at a liquor store, and that’s all I’ve got.”

“Sure thing, sounds delicious.” Angie was too busy inspecting the décor to care about cocktail flavors. Anything alcoholic would do.

“It’s got four kinds of rum, pineapple and orange juices, a splash of grenadine. I learned the recipe from my Uncle Phil. Hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Angie took Tiffany’s hand, examined her finger. “I don’t think you should cover this. A blister is nature’s Band-Aid. Seriously, you should just leave it alone.”

Tiffany shrugged and opened a wooden door leading into a walk-in pantry. The inside illumined as the door opened. She grabbed a woven basket from a wall hook and started filling it with rum bottles.

“You use a shopping basket in your own pantry?” Angie shook her head.

“I just put this in here,” Tiffany jiggled the basket making the bottles clank, “so I don’t have to walk back and forth twenty times. The house is too big for me, but I can’t sell it. According to the will, nobody can.”

Tiffany walked to a set of double doors that looked like another pantry but was actually a refrigerator. After collecting the remaining ingredients, Tiffany placed the basket on the marble island with a grunt.

“Here, let me help you.” Angie removed items from the basket placing them on the countertop. “Where’s your shaker and glasses?”

Tiffany pointed to a cabinet near the main sink. Its front was made of glass etched with busty mermaids sitting atop the arms of a colossal octopus. The requested items were clearly visible.

Angie headed over. “Right in front of my face.” She grabbed the largest drink mixer and chose two hurricane glasses. Without turning, she held them up. “These okay?”

“Perfect. Bring them over.”

After shaking the rum concoction, Tiffany filled their glasses.

Angie grabbed one, downing half in record time. “Ahhh,” she exhaled. “Guess your uncle taught you right.”

“Thanks.” With the tinkle of shifting ice, Tiffany took a sip. “The sky’s really nice tonight. Want to sit by the pool? It’s indoors and heated.”

“Sure.” Angie gulped down the last of her drink. “You should make another batch and then we should totally go for a swim. But, I’m not going to let you forget about showing me that dungeon.”

“It’s mostly empty. I haven’t been in there in quite some time, so it’s likely filled with dust and cobwebs. It’s not as interesting as you’re probably thinking.”

Angie shrugged, mocking Tiffany’s tone: “I bet it’s more interesting than you’re probably thinking.” She grinned, impressed with her impersonation.

“Not bad.” Tiffany stifled a giggle. “Did you want another drink before or after?”

“Both.”

Tiffany created a double batch and refilled the glass. “All set?”

Angie nodded. “Is there a restroom along the way?”

Pointing to another door at the far end of the kitchen, Tiffany said, “You bet. Right there.”

“I can’t believe you’ve got a bathroom attached to your kitchen.” Angie made her way over.

Tiffany followed. “It’s been updated, of course, but I believe it was originally built for house servants.” Opening the door, she tapped the wall to initiate lighting.

As dimness brightened, Angie huffed.

Tiffany’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell?”

The pearly paint of the underwater style washroom was splattered with burgundy. Thick droplets of the dark substance hung, bulging as though ready to give birth. Magazines were strewn haphazardly. Seashell printed toilet paper hung from the fixtures, waving in the draft. A large rock, the culprit of the broken window, now rested in a corner. A bizarre message dripped down the mirror:
YOU ARE NEXT
.

Angie cupped a hand over the bottom half of her face and stumbled backward out of the room.

Tiffany slammed the door, gulping to force more air into her lungs. Then, trying to avoid hyperventilation, held her breath. She bent over with eyes closed until her breathing steadied.

“Who could’ve done this?” Tiffany looked around, hands on hips. “It’s as if the curse is true.”

Angie wrapped arms around herself as though protecting her augmented chest and asked, “What do you mean by curse?”

“It’s nothing really. Just an old campfire tale told to scare teenagers, to keep them from sneaking off. Not that it ever worked.” Tiffany took a deep breath exhaling audibly. “Anyway, this bathroom issue is exactly like the ones I used to hear at camp. Right down to the ‘
YOU ARE NEXT
’ message.”