The Vicarage Bench Anthology (25 page)

“Arnie! How the hell did you find out they were in Bury?”

“I have my ways.”

“Did they include any bloodletting or probable jail sentences, by any chance?”

“Nope. Just the threat of there being blood, and a lot of pain can make a person spill his guts, or so I’ve found out over my career. The airline clerk I choked wrote the name of the place on his blotter before you hauled me off him, and before the coppers showed up.”

“How did you get the Scotland Yard bozos to release you this quickly?”

“The clerk decided not to press charges after I told ‘em I’d be leaving on the next flight to Manchester.” Arnie lifted his stubby index finger, and drew an imaginary line across his throat. “This little mind-picture helped do the trick for the bum, also. He almost peed his pants trying to talk the cops into letting me go. Hey, you ever seen such weird cop hats?”

Three hours later, arriving in the Manchester terminal half drunk, Joey followed Arnie to the nearest phone book. The big goon proceeded to flip through pages, looking for a phone number and address for Carrie’s grandparents. How the hell Arnie knew their last name continued to be a mystery to him.

“Tell me again how you know Carrie Parks’ maiden name?”

“I told you. The Vegas papers wrote her maiden name, Temple, as part of her wedding announcement. I just remembered it. I have this name thing. Tell me a name once and I can usually remember it; let me read it and for some reason it sticks like toilet paper.”

Toilet paper? The guy was a complete moron. Unfortunately, he had enough small brain cells to make him dangerous.

“So what are you gonna to do now? Beat up on some old geezer related to Rhett Parks’ wife just to find out where Ashley and the dumb broad are? You wanna make an enemy of his big brother? He’s not Ashley. And he’s not someone you wanna fool around with, at least I don’t. Give it up, Arnie. Anyway, why would granny or grandpa know anything? Chances are they won’t remember Ashley or have a clue where he’d be hanging.”

“Shut up, Joey. You’re beginning to bug me. Back off and keep your yap shut for five minutes.” Arnie’s hard finger prodding Joey’s chest convinced him to follow instructions.

Checking for change, Arnie took out a handful of the English coins he’d traded his American dollars for and shut himself inside the red telephone booth.

Joey’s crossed fingers and quick prayer didn’t work. The happy smirk plastered over the nasty puss of the big man destroyed his hopes for a dead end.

“The old lady couldn’t have been more helpful. Funny thing. Seems they have a close friend called Dr. Andrews. The old crow gabbed on and on, even passed on the address. Easy as pie.”

“Are they near here?” The visible lack of encouragement showed up in his voice. Joey, perturbed and frustrated, wore a long face and a worried expression.

“You don’t want to come along, fine. I never asked you, anyway. Get out of here. Go back to Vegas. In fact, you can go straight to hell.” Arnie headed in the direction of the taxi stand, but Joey quickly shadowed him.

“Hey! What’s up with you? Here I am trying to protect you from making a dumb mistake, and what do I get for my trouble? Shit and abuse! Nice guy you turned out to be.”

Arnie stopped in his tracks. The fresh scars added another dimension of freakiness to his lopsided face, and the gaps from his recently destroyed teeth didn’t help. His head hung low over his chest, and he hummed under his breath in a mumbling kind of way before staring Joey down. “I didn’t realize you came to help me. I figured you’d come to protect your investment—the batter bitch.”

Bluffing came easy to Joey, and he was damn good at it. “Man, you sure know how to hurt a guy. We made a deal, right? Ashley for Crystal. Now why would I ever think you’d go back on your word?”

Joey’s hands separated as if holding an invisible tray, and his shoulders shrugged with attitude.

“Yeah. You’re right. I forgot. They’re in a place called Bury, a few miles from here. We’ll grab a taxi.”

“Hey pal, okay if we find someplace to hole up for a while to catch up on some sleep? I’m so bushed, I hear weird voices in my head, and they’re all blabbering at once.” Joey tried to lighten the mood with his silly wisecrack.

Arnie’s head swung back to face Joey, and his expression brightened. “Hey, I get that all the time. I always figured I was the only one. I’m glad you get what it’s like, Joey. Let me tell you, sometimes they drive me batty.”

Gritting his teeth stopped Joey from answering. He’d been joking about the voices. His thoughts ran rampant, but they all signaled one thing. Arnie was a frigging nutcase! And Joey had to control him. Now how much fun was that?

How the hell did he get himself into these crazy deals? Somehow, he had to get that address and phone number from Arnie, get hold of Ash, give him the heads up before Arnie got to him. He only hoped that big brother Rhett had called Ashley and warned him they were in England. Arnie meant business. There’d be no talking him out of his revenge. That meant somebody would be getting hurt.

Chapter Eleven

Crystal, standing in front of the bench near the old vicarage and staring at the flamboyant foliage of color, swiveled towards the doctor. Her eyes, huge with astonishment, conceded the truth. “I see what you mean, Dr. Andrews. This bush, with all three colors of roses, is similar to the one you have growing in your garden, and so is this seat. Why it’s nearly an exact replica.”

“Yes, the plant is rather close but, unfortunately, not exact. There is a very important difference. Come and sit with me, and I’ll tell you how I came to care about this particular bush—which, by the way, is magical.” Guiding her with his arm tucked under hers, he placed her on the old bench and sat down next to her.

Ashley followed and took the seat on her other side. Careful not to intrude upon Crystal’s captured interest, he nestled close and waited.

“You’re telling me that a man of your distinguished credentials believes in magic? Quit pulling my leg.”

The cheeky look that passed over Dr. Andrews face and his half-smile should have warned her, but they didn’t. The patronizing pat on her hand discomforted her, but she shook the feeling off. Most telling was the wee voice in her head chanting—something is going on here! The message came through clearly. She ignored it.

Ashley interrupted by asking, “Which rose is your favorite? The scarlet, white, or…?”

“I love the pink one. Pink ruled as my favorite color when I was small, until I matured and realized pink didn’t belong in my life. I became more of a blue person, I guess.” The babbling of nonsensical information bothered her somewhat. She never babbled. She must be nervous.

The doctor’s thoughtful glance and pensive smile in her direction were significant signs. She’d spiked his interest. The silent signal he sent Ashley’s way caught her attention, but before she could look to see what his hand flipping gesture meant, Ashley had removed clippers from his pocket and snipped a particularly gorgeous pink bloom.

“For you, sweetheart.” He hid the bleeding wound on his palm when he bowed and passed her the stem full of thorns. As she reached over to accept the flower he closed his fingers around hers, making absolutely sure a sharp point penetrated her skin. A faint sigh emerged from her pale lips as she slumped towards the waiting arms of Dr. Andrews.

* * *

“Ashley, I feel kinda funny.” Her words slurred inside his head. “Something’s wrong with me. Are you okay?”

The sweet darling was worried about him. He’d found himself a true gem.

“What the hell have you done to me, Ashley Parks? What in tarnation is going on? What kind of voodoo black magic is this?”

“Ow!” His true gem screamed so hard his brains rattled. He stood up and moved back, instinct overriding velour. “It’s not voodoo black magic. Dr. Andrews told you the rose bush is magic. Well, the fact is—your spirit has been transported into my body. It’s a way to save your life.”

“By killing me? Look! I’m dead!”

“No! No, you’re not dead, just in a little coma for a while.”

“Oh! Well! A little coma! That’s much better. A little coma! What? Versus a big coma? You imbecile, I don’t want to be in a coma. I want to be back in my body, and I want a bat so bad I can taste it.”

The image she evoked with her sarcasm left him thankful there wasn’t a bat in sight, and that she was incapacitated, or he’d be one sorry Sir Galahad. This sharing of yourself with another person took some getting used to. No wonder his sister-in-law Carrie had looked shell-shocked much of the time when Rhett resided as her inner roommate. Nothing is as easy as it looks. The old adage “walk a mile in my shoes” took on a whole new significance.

“Please calm down and stop yelling. Dr. Andrews will explain everything to you.” Speaking out loud allowed the doctor to hear Ashley’s craven pleas.

The doctor’s arms cradled her body while he turned and aimed his words towards Ash. “My dear Crystal. He did this for your own good. Your body will be well taken care of in a hospital ward until the threat to your life is over. Trust me, it was the best way, in the circumstances, to keep you safe from this Arnie character.” His head nodded as he patted her shoulder, which nestled in his fatherly embrace.

Speaking aloud in Ashley’s voice brought realism to the horror of her situation. “How in the world did you manage this—this transformation? How…?”

“I did tell you this bush is magical, my dear. Over time, I’ve uncovered certain instances where spirit metamorphosis, if you will, has taken place because of the rose’s power. Once Ash explained your dire situation to me, I decided we had no time to lose. We needed to protect you.” Satisfaction rang in the doctor’s smug tones.

“You silly bungling idiots. Arnie isn’t after me. Joey talked him out of taking his revenge out on me. He used the big boss as a threat that Arnie would be fired if he hurt me, because of how my show took off at the casino. Since the fool’s determined to get satisfaction, he transferred his resentment to Ash, whom he now believes instigated the situation. The man is dangerously delusional. Dr. Andrews, please believe me. It’s Ash who needs shielding now, not me.”

Dr. Andrews’ perplexed gaze swiveled from the comatose girl in his arms to the vibrating man hovering in front of him, whose head angled to the right and then shook vehemently, as if he had water in his ear.

“Stop yelling, my love. And quit trying to protect me. I’m a big boy and can take care of myself. Your safety is all I care about.”

“I’m not lying, you big lug. It’s true. Joey came to see me, and I told him if Arnie hurt one hair on your head, I wouldn’t be back to perform in his place. That’s why he’s been following Arnie, to protect you. Stop this madness! Put me back into my own body!” Dread flooded Ashley’s system. He grasped what thoughts exploded in her as soon as she thought them.

“Relax! The switchover can be done whenever I know you’re safe.”

“Do it now! He’s coming for you. I can help stop him.”

“Nope. You’d say anything to get your own way, and I’m not falling for it. Crystal, Joey spoke the truth this morning when he snuck away from Arnie and called to warn us. I heard it in his voice. They’re closing in. And Arnie’s fury hasn’t died away at all. He’s frothing to get his hands on you, and it just ain’t gonna happen. So settle down and behave.”

“You wait until I get back to myself, Ashley Parks. You just wait!” she bellowed. The satisfaction of hurting his head gave her a small amount of solace.

Dr. Andrews motioned for Ashley to support Crystal’s body while he hurried to the car and lifted the wheelchair from the boot. He wheeled it over to where Ashley cuddled the girl, then helped him lift the dead weight of her body into the chair in order to strap her in.

“Get your slimy lips off me. If you won’t listen to me, don’t kiss me. I’m so mad at you right now, I’m glad I can’t see you.”

While they switched her from the chair to the backseat, Ashley looked up in time to see Arnie and his shadow running towards them from up the street. Joey appeared to trip and his leg stuck out in the path of the other’s shuffling feet. Both went down, leaving plenty of time for escape.

* * *

“They were here a minute ago. If it hadn’t been for you tripping me up, I’d have caught ‘em.”

Furious, Arnie pushed the smaller man, who stumbled, caught himself, and then backed away. Maddened, Arnie pushed him again. This time Joey fell against a section of a rose bush. The big ape stood over Joey, quivering angrily. Then, with vicious intent, Arnie reached down to grab Joey’s neck.

Out of his mind with fear, Joey searched for a weapon. Pricking his hands on the vicious thorns didn’t deter him in any way. He managed to thrust the same branch into Arnie’s face, where the bloody thorn slashed the big bruiser’s cheek. Like a felled tree, he went down.

Joey struggled out from under the massive, inert body and scooted away quickly. Other than Arnie’s leg settling, all movement ceased. Joey hesitated, then crawled over and carefully checked the pulse in the thick neck. It beat steadily.

A buzzing started in his own head, making him shake it repeatedly, like a wet dog. Dizziness assaulted him. He flopped down next to the passed out body, his arms wrapped around his bent legs, his forehead resting on his knees.

Gathering his dazed wits into a semblance of lucidity seemed impossible. Thoughts rampaged incoherently. Wow, Arnie’s a mean one—that was a close call—never thought a branch could cold-cock him—figured I was a goner.

“You are a goner. You’re a dead man. You’re a…”

“Hold it! What the hell? Arnie, what the hell are you…? Where are you?” Joey’s voice rang out as he looked around him. Then he double-checked Arnie, lifting his eyelids to watch his eyeballs roll back.

“I’m here. I’m not in my own body. Shit, Joey, I’m inside of you. How the hell did that happen? What did you do?”

Realizing that he could converse through telepathy, Joey stopped talking out loud. “What did I do? You big moron, you attacked me. You were gonna kill me. I saw it in your beady little eyes.” Strange how brave one feels when his adversary is lying in front of him—out cold.