The Postman Always Purls Twice (30 page)

Lucy met Suzanne at Prestige Properties, a few blocks down Main Street. They were soon cruising past the Marshes and heading for the Beach Road in Suzanne's SUV. Suzanne seemed uncommonly distracted and anxious.

“Thanks for coming with me, Lucy. You're a pal.” Suzanne turned to her briefly, with a thin smile. “I just want to get this over with. I don't know what's rattling me more—visiting the spot where poor Heath died or waiting to see if the cops trashed the house.”

“Maybe both? I feel sad going back there, too,” Lucy admitted. It was impossible not to think of Heath today. “If I saw all of this in a movie—everything that's happened to these Hollywood people this past week—I'd say, that is totally unbelievable.”

“I hear you. Has it only been a week? It feels like a freaking month,” Suzanne moaned.

They drove in uncommon silence for a few minutes. Suzanne turned on the road parallel to the beach and the house soon came into view.

The trucks that transported the movie equipment were gone, but Lucy was surprised to see the big white RVs still parked on the side of the road, a few strands of crime scene tape drifting in the wind around them like yellow streamers.

“I didn't think the trailers would still be here,” said Lucy.

“The police didn't release the crime scene until late last night. I guess nobody dealt with removing the trailers yet. Jennifer is in jail, Nick is in the hospital and . . .” Suzanne didn't finish. They both knew the rest.

Suzanne parked on the side of the road, a short distance from the trailers. They climbed out and she paused, fishing through her big black leather purse for something. “Drat . . . I must have the keys to this place in here somewhere . . .”

While Suzanne searched, Lucy gazed around. It was so quiet and empty here now. So different from the night Heath died. She could hear the waves rolling into the shore, a hollow, crashing sound. A few birds swooped and dipped above the tall beach grass, chirping to one another, as a light breeze shifted the reeds.

Then she heard another sound, one she couldn't quite identify. Like a hammer striking wood.
Crunch, crunch
. Then it stopped.

Suzanne had found the keys and sighed with relief. “If I had forgotten these babies, I was just going to scream—”

“Shhhh . . .” Lucy touched her arm. “Did you hear that?” She turned and met her friend's surprised, puzzled frown. “That sound.”

“I don't hear anything . . .”

Suzanne had not even finished speaking when Lucy heard it again. She could tell from Suzanne's expression she'd heard it, too.

“It's coming from inside this trailer.” She spoke quietly, pointing to the nearest vehicle. Lucy already recognized it. It was Jennifer Todd's, and they were standing at the back end.

“Maybe it's someone from the movie company. Here to drive the trailers somewhere.” The explanation was logical, but Suzanne whispered also.

The hammering got louder and faster now. Whoever was inside, handling the tools, was intent. They probably didn't even hear us drive up, Lucy realized.

“Let's walk up to a window. Maybe we can see what's going on,” Lucy suggested quietly.

She led the way, walking close to the trailer, on the side opposite where the hammering sound was taking place. They had reached the middle of the long vehicle and could see the door. The glass on the door window was shattered.

Someone had broken in.

Suzanne saw it, too, and nodded. They stood at the middle of the trailer, not as far as the sitting room where Jen had entertained them. Probably near the bedroom Lucy had noticed when they were inside, having tea.

“There's a window up there.” The shade was pulled down but Lucy thought she could see a little through that space near the sill. “Give me a boost,” she whispered to Suzanne.

“Are you kidding? I can't walk around with a bad back all week. I have a life,” she hissed back.

Lucy gave her a look. “Hey, this is my adventure, okay? I'm calling the shots today. I always do the stupid things you tell me to do.”

Suzanne seemed shocked, then nearly laughed out loud.

“Whoa . . . hear her roar,” she whispered with uncommon respect. “You have a point. What do you want me to do?”

“Cup your hands so I can jump up and look in the window. I can hold myself up after that.”

Suzanne sighed and leaned over as Lucy slipped off her shoes. “Cirque du Soleil, here we come . . .”

Lucy jumped up, clinging to the side of the RV. There was a wheel well nearby and she stuck one foot on a big tire and the other in Suzanne's hand. She reached the window and held on with both hands, her fingers curled on the narrow ledge as she stared inside.

The window was in a bedroom, as she'd guessed. She couldn't see anyone in the room at first. Then she saw a figure reflected in a large mirror at a dressing table. Of course a star would have a gigantic mirror framed by large lights in her movie location trailer.

Someone was squatting on the floor in the corner, at a large wall-to-wall closet, the folding doors pulled open. Lucy couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. They wore a sweatshirt with a hood pulled up. The person held a sledgehammer in one hand and a large metal chisel in the other. Tools used to break up bricks or concrete. They leaned into the closet and seemed to be working with the hammer at the back wall, which was covered by wooden paneling.

“Gonna drop you in a minute . . .” Suzanne gasped. “Hope you're okay with that?”

“Wait . . .” Lucy hissed back as the hammering began again. “Just a—”

The intruder stopped hammering and suddenly tossed the tools aside. Lucy held her breath, expecting the intruder to come to the window. But the mystery figure jumped up and impatiently grabbed at clothes on a rack above the spot where they worked, pulling everything out of the closet and flinging it to the floor. Then pieces of wood came flying across the room as well.

Lucy saw the prize in the closet, a safe that was hidden in the wall. The intruder seemed frustrated and angry. But doubly determined. The hammer and chisel was grabbed up again and as the thief set to work, the sweatshirt hood fell back. Lucy finally saw the thief's face and gasped.

But before she could say a word, Suzanne groaned and Lucy felt the bottom drop out of her support. She was suddenly falling to the ground and only managed to soften her landing by clinging to the side of the RV and sliding down.

She practically landed on Suzanne, who was squatting close to the ground, breathless and grumpy.

“It's Alicia . . . she's trying to break into a wall safe in Jen's bedroom. She probably knows the combination, once she gets to it.” They sat on the ground, side by side, checking for bodily damage and searching for a second wind.

“Alicia? I thought she went back to LA for Heath's memorial service.”

“I guess she had some business to take care of here first,” Lucy said quietly, rubbing a bruised knee. “We'd better call the police.”

“I know . . . but we can't let her get away. That little rat . . . and she always acted so devoted to Jen. What a phony!” Suzanne had seemed exhausted a second ago but was suddenly totally energized.

“Suzanne, she might be dangerous. We can't go in there.”

Suzanne frowned. “Oh right. She might hammer us?”

“Be serious. I'm calling 911.” Lucy waved her hand. “Let's go down toward your car. So she can't hear us.”

Lucy led the way on tiptoe and Suzanne followed. She heard the pounding hammer, slow and steady. Alicia was hard at work on the wooden wall. But Lucy was still cautious and spoke to the emergency dispatcher in a whisper. She reported the address and a robbery in progress and gave her name.

“The police are on the way, ma'am. Where are you now?”

“On Plum Beach Road, right across from house number 107.”

“You need to leave. Find a safe place,” the operator advised. “Do you want me to—”

The call suddenly broke up. Lucy stared at the phone as the line went dead.

“Bad cell service out here,” Suzanne observed.

“She said to find a safe place. Let's go. We can drive down the road and wait for the police in your car.”

Suzanne put her finger to her lips and pointed. Lucy saw a little motor scooter leaning next to the other side of the trailer. There was a bike and scooter rental shop in town, right next to the Lord Charles Inn. Alicia must have picked it up there.

“That's why we didn't see a car. Let's hide it so she can't make a fast getaway,” Suzanne whispered.

Lucy nodded. “Good idea.”

They tiptoed toward the scooter. The hammering had stopped and Lucy winced at every crunch of sand under her feet.

The scooter was right under the window. It was a light scooter, little more than a bike with a motor on it, but they soon found the rear wheel was locked and it could not easily be rolled away.

“Great,” Suzanne said. “Now we need Houdini, too, to unlock this darn thing. Maybe Alicia will loan us the hammer.”

“Just pick up your end. We can slide it,” Lucy whispered harshly.

Suzanne grabbed the back end of the scooter and started walking backward, toward the rear of the trailer again. “Let's put it in the marsh grass. Where she won't see it.”

Lucy nodded, holding the handlebars and rolling it along as best she could.

Suzanne turned her head to see where they were going, then looked back at Lucy. Her expression went slack. “Oh . . . crackers . . .”

Lucy turned to see what Suzanne was staring at. Though part of her brain already knew.

“Drop that scooter, damn it!” Alicia ran toward them. The hood was up again and she wore big sunglasses. She had a huge pack on her back, bulging with booty, Lucy suspected. And in one hand, she brandished the big sledgehammer.

Lucy stood back against the trailer, every nerve ending tingling. But didn't let go of the scooter handles. Suzanne dropped her end, but crouched down, in a squared-off, bulldog stance.

Lucy didn't think Suzanne knew martial arts. But she sure looked like she did now.

“You little punk . . . You cheap, two-faced little rat,” Suzanne shouted at Alicia. “Jennifer trusts you. Don't you have a shred of conscience?”

“Shut up. What do you know about anything? Why don't you ask Jennifer Todd about her conscience? Or any of them.” Alicia scoffed. She tried to grab the scooter away from Lucy, but Lucy held on fast, without saying a word. “Let go, you idiot.”

Lucy didn't answer, just bit her lip and tightened her grip. Alicia pulled a slim key from her sweatshirt pocket and snapped open the ignition lock. The rear wheel was free now. Alicia started the motor with a twist of the handle bar, even with no one on it.

“Let go of the damn scooter, or you'll never knit again. I promise you . . .”

Alicia aimed the sledgehammer at Lucy's knuckles. Lucy stared into her eyes as she swung back the metal head to take a solid swing.

“Ava . . . stop. I know you loved Eileen . . . but none of this will bring her back.”

Alicia stared at her in shock. Lucy knew her wild guess had hit a bull's-eye. Alicia's face turned beet red, her eyes narrowing with anger.

“They deserved to die. They all do. I hope Jen rots in jail and all over again in hell,” she screamed as she focused again on Lucy's hand, and began to lower the hammer.

Lucy braced herself, about to let go of the scooter. But Suzanne had snuck behind Alicia, and suddenly pounced. She grabbed on to the pack and pulled Alicia back, the hammer dropping from her hand. Alarmed and caught by surprise, Alicia clung to the straps of the backpack with both hands. She wasn't going to let go of her prize so easily.

Taking full advantage of Alicia's greed, Suzanne pulled with all her might, standing solidly in one spot as she swung Alicia around in a circle. For a moment, it looked like Alicia was on a carnival ride. She screamed, her feet flying out from under her, turning in a full circle and finally coming to a stop. Alicia staggered, looking dizzy and drunk; Suzanne pounced on her, pushing her facedown on the ground. Then quickly straddled her body, leaning over the pack to grab Alicia's flailing arms.

It all happened so quickly; Lucy stood there dumbstruck.

Alicia twisted and squirmed, while Suzanne held her down, as if riding a bucking bronco.

“Help me, for pity's sake! I feel like I'm wrestling an alligator!”

Lucy let go of the scooter and it crashed to the ground, motor sputtering. She grabbed one of Alicia's kicking legs and held it to the ground while Suzanne continued to hold down their captive's arms.

“Let me go . . . I can't breathe!” Alicia managed.

“Stop moving . . . and I'll let you breathe. Just a little. You're lucky the police are on the way. Every time I think about what you did to my Heath, I can't trust myself,” Suzanne growled at her. Obviously, from what Lucy had said and Alicia's reaction, Suzanne had put the pieces together, too.

Lucy wasn't sure if Suzanne was serious. But she sounded serious enough to put a scare into Alicia—Ava Litowinsky, actually.

Suzanne was a tiger when cornered. Lucy had no idea what a street fighter she was. Though she'd never doubt her friend would be fierce defending—or avenging—anyone she loved.

Finally Alicia's body went limp. She was exhausted and knew she wasn't getting away. Lucy felt relieved but still held Alicia's leg with both hands. Suzanne was vigilant, too, as they heard the siren in the distance grow louder.

The police car pulled up to the trailer and two officers jumped out. Not brandishing firearms, but looking ready to, Lucy noticed.

“We got her, Officer,” Suzanne called out. “She was trying to escape on that scooter, but we nabbed her.”

The police officers stared at the scene in amazement. Lucy had to admit, they must have made a strange sight, Suzanne on Alicia's back and Lucy holding her leg, the fallen scooter with its motor still chugging.