Killer Cupid (The Redemption Series: Book 1) (4 page)

Sweat beaded on his forehead. Everett was laughing at him from his watery grave. He was back on that damn bloody boat. Again.

There was a knock at the door.

“Just a minute.” His voice bounced off the sink harsher than he wanted to sound.

Who was Debbie Aldridge? George and Marion Aldridge
—
hospital benefactors. George Aldridge: businessman, campaign contributor, Everett’s golf partner.
Yes, they knew Senator Everett. But they knew nothing of his criminal exploits, as far as he could tell. And he knew everything about Everett. He’d been around the Senator long enough to know.

Some girl in a hospital bed wouldn’t bring him down. He was smarter than the lot of them. Everett was history, and his job was nearly done. He had more than enough evidence to put them all away
—
including the good doctor
—
Payne
—
and Albert Santoro.

One more job. South America.
He’d blow those bastards straight to hell. Then he’d be free. Free to put a bullet through his own brain and escape to the relief of nothingness.

The knock at the door was louder, more insistent.

“Just a minute.” He looked up into the mirror. Watery eyes and sweaty brow wouldn’t do. He straightened his tie.

He tore paper towels from an elegant dispenser, noticing the manufacturer’s name etched in gold.
Revelation Technologies, # 3-1920.

He was back at home, the last time he’d seen his cousin Cat. He kissed her goodbye, and she placed a slip of paper in his hand. When he glanced at it, he shook his head and tossed it in the trash.
Revelation 3:19-20.
Cat would never quit.

He wet the towels, mopped his face, and wiped his eyes. Then he dried his face.

Another knock at the door. He flung it open. There was no one in the hallway.

***

He’d get to the bottom of this if it killed him. He opened the door to the hospital’s chapel
—
a fitting church for Beverly Hills, he thought. It had been pretty well sanitized of the crosses and religious icons he’d seen the last time he darkened the doors of a church.

But he did find the Bible he’d been looking for on a table at the back of the chapel. He turned to Revelation 3:19-20 and read silently.
Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.

He swallowed hard, but the nausea welled up. It would take that bullet to the brain to leave that damn bloody boat.

He had to talk to Debbie Aldridge. He looked at his watch.
Shit
. There wasn’t time for insanity. He had business to take care of.

Debbie

It was very early in the morning, and I was trying to figure out what day it was. I was pretty sure New Year’s wasn’t over. My easel beckoned, but there was no way I could get over there. I was still too weak to do anything.

“You look as though you’re feeling much better today, Debbie.” David appeared out of nowhere and kissed my forehead.

He kissed me. I was so dumbfounded I almost couldn’t reply. “Ohhh… yes… David.” Another brilliant retort.

I was breathless again. But I consciously tried to take in everything about him. His features, the softness in his eyes when he looked at me, his touch, his scent, his calming voice – all of these were burning into my memory. I felt a sense of well-being wash over me.

Noticing a pile of watercolors stacked on a chair, David picked up the top one and examined it by the light of the window. He seemed to be drawn into my pastoral scene.

I watched him as intently as I could, but I was slipping into a fog of emotion. “I always like to jump into my paintings. Like Mary Poppins. I like to pretend that I’m there. It’s always more fun having adventures in those worlds than staying in this one.”

He looked up from the watercolor with a startled expression that jolted me back to reality. I was hot with embarrassment, wondering if David thought me completely ridiculous.

“You do beautiful work.” His voice had so much intensity in it – I wondered how and why this little watercolor had affected him so much.

I couldn’t believe that he was genuinely impressed with my painting. It made me even more uncomfortable, so I decided to try and change the subject. “Where are you from in Germany, David?”

“Hamburg.”

“And… and… you have family there?”

“Yes. Why don’t you tell me about your family?”

“Well, it’s just my parents and me.” I didn’t really know what else to say about them.

“Doctor Payne tells me your father is a very successful businessman. What does he do?”

“Daddy had an insurance company. And some other businesses that go along with that. But he’s thinking of slowing down, now that he’s sixty-two. So I – I guess he’s just going to be on the board or something like that. He sold his companies for a lot of money, I think. But he still goes to the office every day.”

“Oh.” David pondered over my watercolor. “And your mother?”

“Mama does lots of work for her clubs and charities. She’s very active in the community.” I nodded for emphasis, and then I realized my comment sounded like it came out of a public relations brochure.

He choked back a laugh. “Ah, I see. And do they support you in your artwork?”

“Well … yes… David.” I wasn’t so sure what he was getting at.

“That’s good. Sometimes it can be difficult and lonely being so creative and artistic, if you don’t get the support and encouragement you need.”

I wondered if he could see into my soul. I wanted to hide. But my body wasn’t strong enough to move. Then Grammy’s face filled my mind, and I knew I didn’t need to hide any more.

David fixed his attention back on the painting, and seemed to study every detail. He looked up at me after a while, almost embarrassed, like he’d been in his own little world too.

I felt bolder. “David, do you know what a Prayer Warrior is?”

It was then I got a glimpse of his soul, right there in his eyes. There was an instant of pain and confusion, then trust, then peace. “I don’t know if there’s a formal definition, Debbie, but I’d say it’s a person – a righteous person – who prays diligently and often. Someone who wants a close, personal relationship with God, and who wants to be changed, or wants others to change or be healed.” He put my painting on the bed stand and took a couple of tissues and wiped his face. I thought he wasn’t used to emotion. I wondered why.

I decided I was in love with him.

“I need to find Cat the Prayer Warrior. How do I do that, David?”

He cleared his throat. I had a feeling he knew this Cat. But he shook his head. “I don’t know.” He tossed the balled up tissue over the bed and into the waste basket.

He sat on the edge of the bed and raised me into his arms. I hugged him with all my strength, and he kissed my cheek.

“Will you paint something for me?”

“Of… of course. What… what would you like, David?”

He exhaled into my ear. “Hmmm.”

It stirred a whirlwind of emotion I wasn’t sure I could bear.

“Whatever you’d like to paint. We both know it’ll be perfect,” he whispered.

He held me, and stroked my hair, until the aide came in to take my vital signs. I could only imagine the numbers would be crazy. David excused himself, and he was gone.

Later, I noticed the painting was gone from the nightstand too.

***

“You won’t believe this one! I ran into pain-away Payne, and I mean ran into! I thought he was gonna ask me out or something. He pressed me against his crotch. I mean the guy is old. He must be pushin’ fifty. Ick! What a lecher! I don’t care if he is richer than God.” Glori’s voice was loud. “Yeah, I think he stalks women in the vending area.” She looked up from her texting to acknowledge me, as she came through my door.

Cindy gave Glori one of her looks as she dropped her sweater and bag on a chair, and grabbed my hand. She gave me a big smile. “You’re looking great today, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” I squeezed her hand.

“Good. They’re coming in with your breakfast in a minute.”

“David came to visit me this morning.” I blurted it out before I could think it might not be wise to let on
—
especially to Glori the constant communicator. My message could be transcribed and in my parents’ email account before I could say, “Stop!”

Glori took a good long look at me with her mouth hanging open. Why wouldn’t I think that would shut her up? A girl like me with a man like him? It was impossible.

I saw concern all over Cindy’s face. “This morning? When?”

“I don’t know.” I really didn’t. The Mildred Wolcott suite had no clock. But the nurse always showed up on time for meals. I wasn’t hungry.
Glori decided to be encouraging. “Yeah, honey, I think he really likes you. I bet he shows up to see you tomorrow. We need to get you ready.”

“Ready?”

“Yeah, you need to eat something. You know, you need some energy. And we’ll do your hair.” Glori stroked my straight, baby fine hair. The static caused it to float around my head. I couldn’t imagine what she could do with it to make it look any better.

Cindy would always compliment me on my hair, I think because it was such a pale blonde. I guess it matched the rest of me. Everything about me was pale.

Cindy started nodding her head as Glori fooled with my hair. She was always my biggest cheerleader, and anything that brought me back to life would be okay with her. But I knew she was concerned about me and David. My parents would blame her if they ever found out. But she’d use any excuse to get me to eat.

“He’s from Hamburg, Germany. Please don’t tell Mama and Daddy about him, okay?” I still didn’t have the hang of making sentences that made sense together.

Cindy and Glori agreed it would be best not to breathe a word to my parents. Then Glori resumed her texting, and Cindy gave me a speech on nutrition as she fed me breakfast. It was tough to get it down.

When that was done, Cindy tried to quiz me on David. I had nothing. I had to admit, I knew he was from
Hamburg
,
Germany
. That was pretty much it. Glori looked impressed. Cindy was aghast. Then my parents walked through the door.

“Thank you for taking good care of Debbie today, dear.” Mama addressed Cindy, ignoring Glori.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Aldridge.”

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. A.” Glori made an effort to be polite. She received a cool nod in return.

“December 27
th.”
Daddy looked at his watch. Mama wondered aloud what the New Year would hold for me, as Daddy paced the floor. Cindy and Glori watched him and shrugged. Daddy wasn’t comfortable unless he was yelling. And this was a hospital. Thankfully, he didn’t have much to say.

Mama nodded to Cindy. “It’s a great comfort to us to know you are here with her.”

Mama was pleased that Cindy looked after me as she would a baby sister. The daughter of their best friends, Cindy came from a good family. Her father was the legendary actor, Bud Bainbridge. As a matter of fact, all three of her older brothers were successful in the entertainment field. Rod and Geoff were actors; Doug was a producer in the music business.

Although Cindy had finished college, Mama was pleased she did not pursue a “real” career. Cindy was a great swimmer, and she devoted herself to the sport and also to her charity work. Mama knew in her heart it was Cindy who kept me alive. With her conscience eased, Mama was free to concentrate on her social clubs and activities.

Her only concern about Cindy was Glori. Glori was a tart, as far as Mama was concerned, and a bad influence on me. She really didn’t know what a nice girl like Cindy saw in her.

“Well, I know you’re busy today with your charity work. And Mr. Aldridge needs to get to the office.” Cindy was probably as stressed as I was at having them around.

They finally took the hint and left.

***

The next morning I woke up early and waited for David. When poor Cindy arrived, she had to listen to me wonder about him for the umpteenth time.

Despite my upset, she said breakfast went remarkably well. Lunch was a little more difficult, but Glori arrived to distract me with more gossip. By midafternoon I was tearful and restless, losing hope.

“Let’s go sit out on the balcony. It’s a beautiful day, honey,” Cindy offered. Glori had the wheelchair at the ready.

Carefully, Cindy helped me into a lush terrycloth robe. “That soft pink does wonders for your complexion.” I knew I must have looked like a ghost.

Glori felt compelled to take out her brush in an attempt to do something with my flyaway hair. I felt a little better for all the pampering. Even Dr. Gallagher stopped by to comment on how well I was looking.