Murder and Mayhem (13 page)

Taking care not to get blood on his clothes and
sneakers, he proceeded to smash her face in with a piece of wood he’d picked
up.

“That’ll take the fucking smile off your face, bitch!”     

*****

“What was that?”

Rosie, who’d been dozing, on and off, was suddenly
awake.

“What was what?” I said with a shrug–nonplussed.

She glared at me accusingly. “You’ve killed her,
haven’t you?”

It doesn’t do to give the plot away too early in a
story, so I said,
“If you kill one person,
it’s only a small leap of faith to killing another.”

“But I don’t understand why you had to kill her at
all. I liked Nicola,” she whined like a petulant teenager.

“Because that’s what us writers do.”

“Okay. Let’s see how you get yourself out of this
mess.”

Nicola roused from her slumber…

Rosie sat bolt upright. “Stop!” she demanded. “You
just stop right there, sister!”

“What is it, Hon?”

“What’s going on? Is Danny turning into a serial
killer?”

“I didn’t say anything about Danny killing anyone.”

“If it’s not Danny who’s been killing these
women−then
w
ho is it?”

“Do you want to hear what happens… or not?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Everyone has choices, kiddo. It’s up to the
individual to decide.”

She harrumphed loudly and waved her hand in a
theatrical gesture. “Will you just get on with it? I haven’t got all day.”

I was about to say, ‘Could have
fooled me,’ but instead said, “Now we come to the good bit.”

She settled back against the
pillow… and let out a sigh. “Ah… I like to hear those bits.”

“That’s why I write them. I like
to give you something to dream about when you close your eyes at night.”

…Danny knelt on the floor beside the bed and pulled
back the sheet.

Groggy from sleep, Nicola felt his fingers trailing a
sensual path down her body. She moaned as she felt all her senses come alive.

His lips lightly touched her ear, his breath warm on
her face. “Are you awake,” he whispered.

“Mmm...”

His kisses were as soft and gentle as a butterfly on a
flower. His lips caressed her eyelids, her cheeks and her nose. When he reached
her mouth he devoured her. Then, with soft, tender kisses he worked his way
down her throat to her breast. He took one erect nipple after the other into
his mouth and sucked gently. His tongue traced a wet path around the areolas –
his teeth gently nibbled.

Nicola let out a long slow breath and shuddered as his
hand moved slowly down her belly…, his fingers barely touching her skin. Her thighs
parted and she felt his fingers slip inside. Nicola moaned, her body rising as
she pushed against his hand. The feel of his fingers inside her sent waves of
pleasure coursing through her body.

Danny raised himself up and straddled her body then he
leaned down and kissed her. And, when he entered her every muscle in his body
was as taunt
as a spring.

Nicola wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him
in. He could feel the feathery touch of her breath on his face, her fingers
digging into his back as he breathed in the smell of perfume on her skin, the
tangy fragrance of her shampoo. When he looked into her eyes he could see a
kind of mystery and a beauty in them–and he thought he could see her soul.

And then he felt something burst inside him, and what
sounded like the roar of a waterfall in his ears, and he rushed towards that
moment where he could finally let go of all the pain, and sadness, and
loneliness that had built up inside him.

FOURTEEN

 “I wish you would stop reading my mind and get a mind
of your own,” my sister protested as we walked down the hospital corridor and
noticed our reflections in the plate-glass window at the end of the hallway.

As is often the case, we were wearing almost identical
outfits–today, blue jeans and green T-shirts. The only difference aside from
the slight variation in color was Rosie’s T-shirt had a round neck while mine
had a V.

“Me? I’m up and in the shower while you’re still
dunking your Vegemite-toast in your tea.”

“Just because I’m still in my PJ’s doesn’t mean I’m
not planning my wardrobe for the day.”

“Planning! What planning? You go to the closet and
grab the first thing you put your hand on. Where’s the planning in that?”

As I pushed open the door and followed her inside, I
noticed her face light up in a wide, open smile.

“Hi everyone, beautiful day isn’t it?” she said.

People looked up, acknowledged our presence, and
greeted us warmly.

As we headed for our usual seats at the back of the
room, Mr. Takamura looked up from the newspaper he was reading, dropped it to
the floor and climbed onto the chair, with an agility that surprised me–for a
man his age. From his perch he smiled down at my sister and me.

“J.J,” he said nodding, bending slightly at the waist.
“Channel–Five, C.B.S. Yes?”

Sometimes good things come from the most unexpected
places.

When I said, “You’re a gem, Mr. T. Your bloods worth
bottling,” he looked at me strangely, even though I’d spoken slowly and
clearly. Maybe I need to brush up on my language skills.

As we strolled down the room, chairs were shuffled to
accommodate our arrival. I noticed the newcomers from yesterday were already
settled into the routine; big smiles on their faces, heads nodding up and down.
As I nodded a greeting, I noticed the man who usually sat next to Linda had
moved to the other side of the room. Like a new puppy–it’s all in the training.

Rosie handed me her bag. “Now, don’t you girls go
talking about me while I’m gone,” she said as she grabbed a gown from the table
and headed to the change room.

“Hon, we would only have good things to say about you,
wouldn’t we, Linda?” I called after her… and gave Linda a nudge.

Linda tilted her body leeward,
away from me, and started to chow down on a loose piece of skin on the side of
her thumb.

Thinking she must have been
hungry, I said, “There’s a cafeteria on the next floor, Linda.” But she chose
to ignore me. It was only when I added, “their specialty is braised pig’s
trotters and lamb’s tongue in aspic,” that I saw her draw blood.

. . .

Rosie dropped her clothes on my lap and raised her
arms in the air, extended her fingers gracefully, like a ballerina in full
flight, and did a dainty pirouette twirl.

I clapped my hands.

“Bravo! Although you might want
to be careful about raising your arms too high. Those gowns weren’t made for
tall people.” But then I remembered our Japanese friend, and amended my
warning, “or short ones,”

“Oh, right-o,” she said as she dipped in a curtsy then
sat on the chair next to Linda.

Without any preamble, she said,
“Gee, Linda, I don’t know how to tell you this, but she’s committed another
cold blooded murder.”

“M... m… murder! Wha… what do you mean?”

Rosie leaned towards over and lowered her voice. “Just
between you and me, Linda, I think she’s turning into a serial killer.”

Linda was stunned, her eyes fever bright. She was
trapped in a conflict of flight–or fight. “O… oh m… m… my… oh my...,” she
spluttered. She was anchored to the chair by indecision as the door to the
treatment room opened, and a hushed silence fell over the room.

The nurse scanned the room and found my sister. “Mrs.
Albertson we’re ready for you now.”

I waved my hand in the air to get her attention, and
called out loudly, “Pardon me. I don’t wish to sound like I’m questioning your
qualification–I’m sure you’ve attended the very best medical schools.” Everyone
looked up as my words hung like a question mark over the room. “And,” I
continued, “I wouldn’t dream of telling you how to read names on a list, even
though some are real tongue twisters, but I thought I should alert you to the
fact that you seem to have skipped over… or somehow… left a name off your
list.”

The woman fidgeted with the
stethoscope draped round her neck and gave me a confused look. “Forgotten
someone?” The silence was loaded leaving no room for contradiction. Everyone
waited… not daring to breathe. They knew something really important was going
on.

“Yes ma’am. You seem to have forgotten, Mr. Takamura.
He always has his treatment before my sister.” You would think they would know
the order in which their patients were treated because they have to adjust the
specifications on the equipment… and I don’t want my sister going in to have
dangly bits zapped when she doesn’t have any dangly bits–nor is she likely to
acquire some any time soon.

The nurse smiled. “Oh,” she
said. “Mr. Takamura came in early today. He’s finished his treatment. I think
he must be waiting for someone.”

An audible sigh breathed over
the room and everyone resumed what they’d been doing, safe in the knowledge
that they had placed their lives in the hands of people who actually do know
how to read names on a list.

I looked at our friend sitting quietly beneath the
television screen…, his face said it all. Mr. Takamura was waiting for our
mentor; the great leveler of society; our very own modern-day King Solomon,
Judge Judith Scheindlin, to dole out truth and justice, the American way– i.e.
On Prime Time television.

The nurse looked at my sister and smiled. “Are you
ready, Mrs. Albertson?”

I gave Rosie a sisterly nudge. “Off you go then, my
little chicken-pot-pie.”

“You seem awfully anxious to get rid of me.”

“Linda and I have things to discuss.”

“Like what?”

When I said, “The disposal of bodies,” I heard someone
gasp. I looked down the row of people and noticed a gray-haired woman sitting
on the other side of Linda, hiding behind the large pages of a magazine, a
habit she had obviously acquired from her neighbor. When I cleared my throat,
loudly, the woman realized her mistake–the magazine was upside down. Another
bad habit she had picked up. The woman hastily righted it and eyed me over the
top of the pages. I decided to allow her this one small transgression… and said
nothing.

*****

They stepped out of the hotel air-conditioning into a
warm summer’s breeze that came off the river, bringing with it the sound of
laughter and music. Danny took Nicola by the hand and they wandered down to
Penn’s Landing where a Latin Festival was in full swing.

A band was playing Latino music, people were dancing,
and vendors were selling hot, spicy food. The place was alive with sounds,
smells and languages of different cultures. The atmosphere was noisy and
infectious.

They shared a low concrete barricade with a family of
four and ate food that flooded their senses with tastes and smells they had
never experienced before, their feet tapping in time with the rhythm of a
salsa.

Danny scraped the last morsel of food from the plate
before setting it down on the concrete barrier. He looked at Nicola taking
dainty bites and said, “Have you ever danced to this kind of music?”

Nicola swallowed and dabbed her mouth with a napkin.
“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“No. We don’t have a very big Latino population in
Australia. Most immigrants to Australia come from Europe and Asia. Although in
the last fifteen years we’ve been getting refugees from Africa and the Middle
East. Here the immigrants are predominantly from South America and the
Philippines. Our two countries have an entirely different racial mix.”

Nicola closed her eyes and lifted her face to the
warmth of the sun as a soft breeze blew up from the river and ruffled through
her hair.

On the walkway that connected Penn’s Landing to the
old part of town, a man wearing a black baseball cap and wrap-around-sunglasses
was talking to a young woman who stood with her back to the river. The sudden
breeze off the water sent her hair dancing about her shoulders, catching the
sun in a shimmering haze. The man reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair
behind her ear in a familiar gesture. He said something that caused the woman
to laugh as he stepped back and brought a camera up to his eye. The shutter
clicked.

* * *

 They crossed the bridge and stopped at the Irish
Memorial; a monument to people who died during the potato famine in Ireland,
and to those who took the treacherous voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to start
a new life in America, then turned north on Chestnut Street and headed uptown.