When Bobbie Sang the Blues (26 page)

A drawer slammed—what was in the drawer? Then she counted his steps to the front door. She crawled over to stretch out behind the boxes, her arms flattened against the dirty concrete. Her breath jerked through her chest. She waited. Keys rattled in the lock of his front door.

She lay still, scarcely breathing as the screen door slammed. Silence. What was he thinking now? Which way was he looking? Had he decided to check out this unit again?

T
he cool concrete floor dampened with her perspiration as Christy lay still, her ears strained for Hornsby’s next movement. She could hear footsteps on gravel, then a truck door opening and closing. When she heard the engine start up, she moaned with relief. She waited until the sound of the trucks engine faded down the street before she moved.

She jumped up, weak-kneed, and wiped her perspiring face. She had to get out of here. She didn’t want another close call like that one. Her mouth felt like the Sahara desert, and she looked around for the drink. Hobbling over to pick it up, she guzzled down a long swallow, then recapped it.

Where was her purse? She set the drink down on the floor and looked around.

Tires crunched gravel, a softer crunch. A tenant bringing something to their unit.

Christy let out another deep breath as she located her purse at the back of the unit near the hole. She peered through the hole one last time. The furniture had been neatly placed, honoring her request to leave the peephole free.

The door of the unit rolled up, and Christy whirled. Roseann stepped inside, pulling the door down behind her.

Christy tried to conceal her sudden anxiety. “Leave it open. I’m just walking out,” she called.

“You’d better get your purse,” Roseann said, pointing to the back wall.

Christy turned and reached down for her purse. Just as she straightened, something cracked against the back of her head, sending an explosion of pain through her. She saw stars, then darkness, as she crumpled.

When she came to, she had been dragged to a corner and set upright against the wall. Her hands were bound behind her, and her mouth was covered with duct tape. She tried to scream, but only a muffled sound came through the heavy tape.

“You lied to me about the money, didn’t you?” Roseann asked, towering over her. On the floor at her feet lay one of the two-by-fours, which would account for the throbbing pain in Christy’s head. She heard a click. Roseann held a switchblade knife, the blade pointed at Christy. A cry of fear died in her throat as she stared at the sharp blade.

God, help me!

Her mind screamed the plea while her lips moved uselessly beneath the gray duct tape. Behind her back, she twisted her wrists against the heavy binding. She had to break the binding and free her hands, or she would die without a fight.

Roseann moved closer, the switchblade pointed at Christy’s neck. The sharp blade pricked her skin, and Christy felt a trickle of blood.

“You lied to me, just like Eddie lied to me about the insurance money. Why do people think they can keep using me and I’ll just take it? That I won’t fight back?”

Christy tried to reason with her, but the tape reduced her words to incoherent mumbles.

“I have one friend,” Roseann said. “Only one friend. I’ll let you meet her.” Roseann sank to the floor, stretching out her long legs. In her lap, she held the doll Christy had seen in the motel room.

Christy stared at her.
She’s crazy. She has to be. Why didn’t I see it, or at least get a hint of it
?

“Millie’s the only friend I can trust,” Roseann said. “Let me show you why.”

She removed the pearl choker, and Christy saw the crack in the doll’s neck. Roseann twisted the doll’s head, and it came off in her hand. Bills sprouted from the doll’s neck. Roseann stuffed the money back in the body of the doll. As she did, she pushed down a vial of pills.

Christy felt sick. It all made sense now, but it was too late.

Roseann gave her a sly grin. “Momma and I watched a documentary on deadly combinations of medicines. You don’t give nitroglycerin to a healthy heart, and you sure don’t combine it with Viagra. I knew Eddie took Viagra.”

A look of satisfaction settled over her face. “Momma said, ‘If that Eddie ever stands you up again, I guess you’ll know what to
do.’ And she was right. I knew exactly what to do. So I grabbed a handful of Momma’s pills and put together my little mix here. Then I hid it in my lingerie drawer in case I needed it.

“I was sick of Eddie within a month, but I kept hoping his trucking company would pay off. And then I found out he lied about that. He was in hock up to his eyeballs. When he insisted on chasing after Bobbie, I left Millie home but brought my little mix along in case he mistreated me. He still loved Bobbie, even though he pretended he hated her. Every time he got drunk, he talked about her. That night at the Last Chance, I’d had it with him. When I told him to shut up about her or I’d leave him, he was just drunk enough to challenge me. ‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘I don’t really love you.’

“I knew then what I would do. We’d already been out here to these units earlier, when he’d picked the lock to go in and snoop. We even left it unlocked so we could get back in later if we needed to. I pretended not to be hurt by what he said about not loving me. I just smiled at him, thinking in my head how much I hated him. ‘I just thought of something,’ I told him. ‘We didn’t look in the bottom of one of those boxes.’ He said, ‘You were supposed to look.’ I said, ‘Honey, I forgot.’ Anyway, we went back to the motel so I could change out of my orange blouse and I wouldn’t be so easy to see. After we got in the motel, he made it so easy for me. He wanted more ice cubes in his drink, and I was glad to freshen it up for him. I went in the bathroom, dumped the mix in his drink, reached into the bucket for ice, then stirred it up.

“He took his drink with him, too addled to notice the taste. By the time we got out here, he wasn’t too observant. While he got out
of the truck, I put on the gloves he kept under his seat. The unit was still unlocked, so I just pushed the metal door up and got him inside. Took, Eddie,’ I said, pointing, there’s a box down in the barrel.’ When he walked over to look, I grabbed the jack handle and hit him in the back of the head. Then I shoved him in the barrel.

“I meant to wait for him to die, but I heard something and realized somebody was in the unit behind us. I had faith in the poisons, so I left. I drove the truck to the street behind the Blues Club and parked it. Then I walked to the motel.”

Roseann sighed. “You want to know why I’m telling you this, don’t you? Because in my whole life, I never did anything smart. I mean, I never did anything that other people considered smart. This was my masterpiece, but I couldn’t tell anybody. Now I get to tell you, the smart mystery writer. But, sad thing is, you won’t get to write about it.”

She paused and studied Christy. “You look like you’re dying to say something. I’m gonna loosen that tape around your mouth for just a minute. But if you start to scream, I’ll cut you. Not enough to kill you right away, just hurt you bad.”

She yanked the duct tape down, and Christy gasped for air. “You killed him so my aunt would take the blame, right?”

“Yes, little Christy.”

“I do have the money you asked for,” Christy said, praying for the right words, “but if you kill me, you’ll never get it.”

“Oh, I think I will.” Roseann leaned forward and put the tip of the blade on Christy’s bottom lip. “Where is it?” She removed the blade so Christy could answer.

“In the box.” She nodded toward the box of books and magazines she’d gone through earlier.

“I don’t believe you,” Roseann said.

Christy kept her body still, but behind her back, she worked her hands against the binding. She felt it loosen. “I had some cash when I came to the motel,” she said, “but your mother was half-asleep, and I didn’t want to just leave the money without talking to you. I did intend to come back to the motel, Roseann, whether you believe me or not. But when I came here and saw some things were missing from that box, I hid the money in the big book on the bottom.” The excuse sounded lame to Christy, but maybe Roseann would at least turn her back and check the box.

Outside, the daylight faded, making the unit darker. Roseann became a silhouette of curly hair, dark clothing, and white sneakers. “Well, Millie,” she said, looking at the doll sitting primly on the floor, its blue eyes iridescent in the dim unit, “I guess we’ll find out if she’s lying.”

Christy twisted her wrists so hard that she heard something pop. She thought it was a bone, and it might have been, but it was also the tape. She wiggled her hands. They were free.

Roseann went to the boxes, looking to see which one held books. She looked over her shoulder. “Now keep your mouth shut. If you scream, I’ll be back in a flash and make mush of that pretty face.”

She turned back to the box. Christy slowly brought her hands to her side, wiggling her fingers to pump the circulation. She stared at Roseann’s long back.

No matter how smart you think you’ve been, you’re still dumb
, Christy thought. She knew this was her moment to make a move. Her eyes jumped to the two-by-four. She couldn’t pick it up quickly or quietly, and she dismissed it, her gaze moving to the thick bottle of energy drink. She could grab the bottle and use enough force to stun Roseann for a moment.

She stood up slowly, her movement masked by the slam of the first book on the floor. Roseann reached for the second book. Christy steeled herself to wait until Roseann dropped the book. Greed had made Roseann careless. She hadn’t bothered to look over her shoulder again. The book hit the floor.

Christy ran lightly across the floor and grabbed the bottle just as Roseann turned around. She slammed the bottle against the side of Roseann’s head. The bottle top flew off, and red juice cascaded down Roseann’s face.

The blow stunned her long enough for Christy to knock the knife out of her hand. It bounced and rattled against the floor, disappearing into a dark corner of the unit.

“Now I really will kill you,” Roseann sputtered, trying to stumble to her feet, the red drink filling her eyes. With the loose end of her shirt, she swabbed her face.

Christy ran toward the door. She yanked it up just enough to dip under, stalling Roseann, who would have to push the metal door higher to get out.

Through the mellow light of late afternoon, the white Lincoln graced the parking space in front of the unit. Christy ran to it, grateful the door was unlocked. She jumped in the car just as the
metal door flew up and Roseann stumbled outside. She looked like a clown with red streaks on her face and clothes. Her hair hung in a damp mess, red juice dripping from the curls. She gripped the two-by-four like a club.

Christy punched the lock on the doors. She glanced at the ignition, but Roseann had taken the keys.

“Help!” she screamed.

She heard a screech of tires as Jack’s SUV roared up the driveway.

Roseann slammed the wood against the window of the Lincoln. Christy scrambled to the passenger side, watching in horror, waiting for the glass to crumble. It didn’t. She thanked God for the strength of glass in new cars.

Jack’s SUV skidded to a halt behind her, and both doors flew open. Roseann whirled, holding the wood as a weapon.

Jack dove into her, knocking the wood from her hand and wrestling her to the ground. Bobbie yelled into her cell phone. “Get out here now!”

Christy unlocked the door and toppled out of the car.

“Your neck is bleeding,” Bobbie cried, tearing off the corner of her T-shirt to press against Christy’s neck.

Horrified, Christy watched the wrestling match. Roseann was younger than Jack and almost as strong. They rolled over, and Jack pinned her to the ground, facedown.

Christy stepped into the melee, lifted her foot, and pushed on Roseann’s back. “I think you’ve got her, Jack,” she said.

“Not yet,” he said, tugging at Roseann’s arms, trying to pull them behind her back.

“Jack, be careful!” Bobbie yelled. She shoved her hands into her pocket. “I don’t have the hammer,” she mumbled, “but I’ve got the nail.” She dropped to her knees beside Roseann and pointed a nail at Roseann’s eye. “Be still, if you don’t want to lose an eyeball,” she snapped.

Roseann stopped wiggling, and Jack gripped her wrists with one hand. He unbuckled his belt and whipped it loose from his pants. Then he circled Roseann’s wrists with the thick leather and wound the ends into a knot.

“That should hold her,” he called over his shoulder, his breath coming in gasps.

Bobbie jumped up to hug Christy. “Oh honey, when the guys came back without you, the big one remembered he had your cell phone—”

“—and mentioned you were hiding from Hornsby,” Jack turned to her, looking pale and shaken. “I couldn’t get here fast enough.”

“We were scared to death.” Tears rolled down Bobbie’s cheeks. “If anything had happened to you.

“But it didn’t.” Christy hugged her back. “Thanks to you and Jack.”

A siren screamed, and everyone looked toward the gate. A fire truck appeared and roared to a stop. Two strong-looking paramedics bounded forward, ready to take charge.

Behind them, the deputy sheriff’s car skidded through the entrance. The car shuddered to a halt, and Big Bob leapt out. He
lumbered, wide-eyed, toward the crowd and then turned to Christy, slack-jawed with disbelief. For a split second, no one spoke.

Christy tried to calm herself. Her voice shook, but she couldn’t resist asking the question that suddenly popped into her mind. If she didn’t make a joke, she was going to burst into tears.