Read A Life of Death: Episodes 9 - 12 Online
Authors: Weston Kincade,James Roy Daley,Books Of The Dead
“Be quiet,” I told her and deposited the small, purring animal into a cardboard box. She mewed through the gaps of the top flaps as I began tying a length of ribbon and bow around it. “Coming!” I yelled.
I shut the bedroom door behind me and sat the box on the kitchen table before opening the front door for Paige. Again, she looked breathtaking, now wearing a deep-blue top under a thin, open sweater, and black slacks. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“How’s it going, handsome? I see you found your way back into those comfortable flannels I love.”
“Always. I about froze this evening…” I paused, then couldn’t help the evil grin that perched on my lips. “You know, I think these pants are lined with flannel.”
“God, don’t I know it. Whoever’s idea it was—” She stopped as soon as my second sentence registered. Then she slapped my arm. “Alex Drummond, you should be ashamed of yourself,” she chided, but a subtle smile played behind her words.
I winked. “Maybe later?” We both laughed as I escorted her into the new trailer.
“Wow! I like what your mom did with the place. Looks like y’all got the boxes unpacked quickly.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice, but doesn’t take much to surpass the last hellhole.” Even the memory of the Drunk’s cigarettes and beer-can-strewn living room made me gag. “Have a seat. I’ve got something for you.” Showing her the way to the couch, I picked the box up off the table and held my breath when a soft mew came from inside. Turning around, I sighed with relief when Paige looked at me with bright eyes, but gave no indication she’d heard.
With soft steps, I carried the box over and sat it on her lap. “Congratulations,” I whispered.
She looked down with confusion. “You didn’t wrap it? That’s not like you, Alex. You sure you’re okay?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Just open it,” I said with a smile. “I promise I’ll wrap the next one.”
She began untying the folds of red ribbon until the box shifted on its own and another questioning mew echoed from inside. Her eyes widened as she lifted it out. “Oh, Alex. You didn’t? It’s adorable,” Paige crooned, “but what’s…?” Her mouth fell open, speechless, and her eyes danced from my smiling face back to the tiny diamond ring hanging from the collar.
She caught her breath and stared at me, kitten still in hand. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she shouted, pulling me and the little feline into a tight hug. I breathed in her hair and perfume, relishing the scent of the woman I’d be lucky enough to call my fiancée while the kitten squeezed out another mew. Paige pulled back and kissed me, her sweet lips closing on mine. The ecstasy of the moment filled me until she tilted her forehead against mine. Nose to nose, she gave me a peck on the lips and whispered, “Now I have a surprise for you.”
“What’s that?”
She nibbled on her lower lip for a moment and then said, “I’m pregnant.”
At that moment the world spun into night, taking my consciousness with it.
Twelve
Last to Know
June 8, 1996
“Sweetie, are you okay?” asked my mother, her graying ponytail hanging over her shoulder.
I propped myself up on an elbow. “I think so,” I replied, my voice wavering a tad. As I did, I spotted Paige’s face amongst Mother’s and Abby’s and remembered my fiancée’s last words:
I’m pregnant.
Then Mr. Kurtley’s words echoed from earlier that day:
Got to make sure our baby’s safe.
Looking up at Paige, I asked, “Does your father know?”
She glanced at Abigail and my mother, eyes wide. “I don’t think so. Did you tell him?”
I caught the double meaning, but changed the path of our conversation. “Of course,” I said as I rose to my feet. “I had to get permission to ask for your hand.”
I wrapped an arm around Paige’s waist and smiled.
Mom’s hands slapped her knees. “And you said yes?” she asked Paige, more excited than I’d ever seen her.
Paige nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Enough of that, missy,” Mom said, taking Paige into her arms. “You can call me Vivian—no, better yet, call me Mom.”
Paige looked at me, wide-eyed, then back at my mother. “This is so new. Why don’t we go with Vivian and take it from there.”
“Okay,” my mom said, rubbing Paige’s shoulders, “we can do that.”
“By the way, where’s the poopster?” I asked.
“Poopster?” both women said in chorus.
“He means the kitten,” Abby answered, holding the purr machine in her arms.
I looked at Paige and smiled, then gave her a subtle, sensual kiss.
“That’s not Poopster. Her name’s Diamond,” Paige said after taking a breath.
As Abby was rubbing the little feline’s chin, she caught her breath and held the cat up like it was the world cup. “Look, look, Momma.” Paige and I both smiled as they passed the cat around, neither wanting to give it up long enough to remove the diamond from its collar.
“Let me,” I interjected. Abby held Diamond still as I removed the ring and took Paige’s hand in mine. Abigail—who was blossoming into a woman herself—and my mother watched with tears in their eyes as I slipped it onto Paige’s finger. When I looked back into her eyes, I found that they were tear-filled, too. “I hope those are tears of joy,” I whispered. She nodded and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I clutched her tight and whispered into her ear, “Do we tell them the rest or wait for later?”
“Later,” she answered, pulling back to give me a smile. A few joyful sobs came from behind us, and we turned to make our exit. While Mom gave me a hug, Paige took Diamond from Abigail and crooned into the kitten’s wide, blue eyes.
“We’ll be back later,” I said, taking Paige’s free hand in mine. “Don’t wait up.”
“Be safe,” was my mother’s only response. Then mother and daughter grinned at one another, as though conspiring about our future.
On the way out to the car, I mumbled, “I think your dad might know more than he’s letting on.”
Paige gave me a quizzical look. Then her eyes widened. “I’m gonna kill my mother!” she hissed, but even then her mood was too good for the smile to fully disappear.
“So how do you think he found out?” I asked. “It’s not like you’re far along.”
She turned a skewed look on me. “Alex, you may not be able to see it yet, but the mornings have been rough for a while. Mom caught on, but she swore she’d wait to tell Dad until after we saw what you were going to do. After how serious we’ve discussed things, I hoped you would propose, but wasn’t sure.”
“Well, I guess she told him… Hey, at least your dad hasn’t killed me yet. That’s a plus,” I added, trying to make it sound like a joke.
She squeezed my hand. “And now he won’t. Dad likes you, Alex. You know that.”
I spun her around just as we reached the car. “Yeah, but I
love
you,” I whispered to her lips and tasted them before running around the car and jumping into the passenger seat.
She shook her head and whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
“Marry me,” I answered once she’d gotten in.
“You bet your butt. There’s no getting away from me now,” she answered with a grin.
“Well, technically I’m the one that collared you.”
She slapped my chest and gave me a playful, “Keep it up, bub.” Starting the car, we headed back to her place and the waiting graduation-party guests.
* * *
September 16, 2011
After running a comb through my wet, black hair in preparation for meeting Jessie’s girl, I shoved it into my back pocket and pulled out my phone. A few quick numbers and the phone rang.
“Hello?” asked a feminine voice I’d grown to love.
“Hey, darlin’. How are you?”
“Alex? Hey baby. I’m doing fine. The hospital’s running me ragged though. How’re things going?”
I let out the sigh of frustration. “Well, progress, but I feel like I’m back to square one.” I told her about what had happened with Irene and the meeting with the professors, even the visions of Egypt, but I left out how long each vision took. She didn’t need to worry about that. The likelihood of me encountering a vision from something old enough to put me in a coma was almost nil.
“So how’s Jamie?”
“He’s good,” she answered. “Misses his dad though.”
“I know. I miss him, too. Is he still up?”
“Honey, it’s not even nine. You do realize he’s a teenager now, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know. So you’re telling me he isn’t in bed.”
“He’s not even home yet,” she said. “I think they went to see a movie, and you won’t believe this…”
“Yeah?”
“It’s a double-date.”
“Well ain’t that somethin’,” I mumbled, almost in disbelief.
“Yep. You weren’t much older than him when you proposed.”
“Yeah, but three years makes a hell of a lot of difference at that age,” I muttered, remembering my own horrifying high-school years.
“Yeah it does,” she whispered, her own voice sounding nostalgic, too.
“We’re getting old.”
“No we aren’t. Get your head out of the Washington clouds and get home. I’ve got a surprise or two waiting.”
“Wh-what?” I stuttered, but her end of the line clicked off. The words she used so many years ago when I proposed echoed through my mind once more:
I’m pregnant
. I shook it off, dismissing the possibility.
No way. Not after this many years,
I told myself.
Dialing my partner Hector Martinez, I brought him up-to-date with what was going on and what we were looking for. “Oh, and by the way, can you look into a guy for me? He grew up in our neck of the woods.”
“Any connection to the case?” asked Hector, his Latino accent evident in his words.
“Nah, I don’t think so, but there might be another murder up here, and I need to find out all I can. His name’s Rayson, Greg Rayson. They’ve found all they can up here: some DUIs, a domestic-violence call and subsequent divorce and such, but nothing serious. I need to know more about his past.”
“Sure, Al. No problem.”
“Also, take a look at the victims from last year. If Victor Harris wasn’t victim fifteen, there’s probably someone that hasn’t been accounted for.”
“We checked out the people reported missing in the area during that time, but I’ll check again.”
“Yeah, and search the surrounding counties. Might have been someone from out of town, or maybe they were reported later.”
“On it. Any idea when you’ll be back?”
“Tomorrow night’s the plan. That’s when I scheduled the return flight for, at least. Got a few loose ends to tie up here. Finishing up with the Egyptian professors, and then I’ll be heading back.”
“Alright. Well, make it quick. I think Sergeant Tullings said he was taking this time out of all that vacation you’ve got built up.”
I knew when he was pulling my leg. “Miss you too, buddy. I’ll be back to help you pull the rest of those cats out of the trees soon enough.”
“You won’t believe it, but I had to rescue a dog the other day,” Hector added. “A freakin’ doberman pinscher somehow got up a tree. Damn thing nearly took my hand off. Wound up tranqin’ it.”
We both chuckled. “You serious?” I asked.
“Yeah, it was the damndest thing I ever saw.”
At that moment the doorbell rang. “Hey, I gotta go. Take care of yourself, and get me what you can on Rayson.”
“Yep,” he answered and ended the call just as a brunette in her late twenties sauntered through the front door to give Jessie a kiss.
“Hey, Jess,” she said, tossing her black purse on the couch. Her high heels, short skirt, and frilled, shoulderless blouse gave her a Latin flare that any man would find arousing.
“Hey, doll. I’d like you to meet my best bud.” Touching a hand to her lower back, he led her into the living room where I was pocketing my phone. He gave me a wink. “Alex, this is Liz.”
“Oh, so this is the man Jessie’s always talking about. Nice. Not looking too shabby either,” she said, walking around me as though deciding what outfit she should show me next in a clothing store. She slapped my butt as she strode past and slipped an arm around Jessie’s waist. “Good to meet you, Alex.” Her dark-brown eyes danced with an energy not unlike Jessie’s. Both of them smiled.
“W-well, it’s nice to meet you too, Liz,” I said, clearing my throat at the awkward introduction and telling myself,
This is going to be an interesting night.
* * *
The evening began with a late dinner at a local French restaurant on the top story of a high-rise. It was called Jardin de Nuit. I thought the thirty-story elevator ride was bad enough, but when the maître d’ checked Jessie’s name off the registry, I was shocked.
“How’d you get us a reservation?” I hissed as the balding, gray-haired man took our coats and hung them in a massive closet in the front foyer. A dark-haired waitress in a black apron and white polo motioned for us to follow her.
Liz interrupted by saying, “Jessie’s got connections.”
Jessie nodded. “Pretty much.”
I just shook my head, wondering how large the bill would be for a DC establishment where each table had pristine, white tablecloths and a pale hanging light centered over the table with a seamed, alabaster-glass shade. The room was almost pitch black except for the tables, each illuminated like solitary islands in a sea of darkness. A string quartet was even playing softly in one corner of the room, the musicians’ shapes silhouetted by the faint light of their music-stand lights. I followed behind Jessie and Liz, barely glimpsing the chair backs and heads of people around me. A soft chatter emanated from each table.
I took a seat at the vacant, lit table that the waitress indicated, and Jessie explained, “I’ve worked for lots of people with money over the years. Believe it or not, when you’re good at something, people notice and keep coming back.” He winked at Liz, and she took his hand in hers. “I’m good,” he whispered in a tone that seemed half sarcastic and half serious. “The foreman says I’ll probably replace him some day.”
“Evidently,” was all I could come up with.
“So, Alex, I hear that you’re a cop?” Liz said, breaking her gaze with Jessie.
“Detective,” I said with a nod.
“And you followed someone up here?”
“Yep, he did. Turns out it was a bit of a downer though,” Jessie added. Evidently he hadn’t spoken with her about me in the last twenty-four hours, but she certainly was up-to-date with my arrival.
“Oh, how so?”
“Well, it’s an ongoing investigation, so I’d rather not talk about it much.”
Jessie’s brows furrowed. “Alex, really? I’ve been a part of it every step of the way.”
“Yeah, but it’s different—”
“No, it’s not,” he interrupted.
“It’s okay,” Liz began, “if he—”
“No, it’s not,” Jessie repeated. “It’s fine to tell you. It isn’t like we have any new suspects or anything.” Turning his attention back to me, he added, “Right, Alex?”
I shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. I shouldn’t have involved Jessie, but he knew the lay of the land. “We’re in DC, hours from Tranquil Heights. It’s not like this will get back to Tullings. Go ahead.”
Jessie nodded. “True. So, basically we found out that Irene Harris, that lady that burnt down her house with her husband in it, like I told you before…”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.”
“She’s innocent,” Jessie finished. “While she got away with murder with practically a slap on the wrist, she couldn’t be our serial killer. She wasn’t even in town at that point.”
A quizzical look appeared on Liz’s face. “Then who did it?” she asked. My gaze found its way down to the bare cleavage revealed by her shoulderless shirt, but then I became distracted by a gold ring on a slim, woven chain around her neck. She fondled it in her fingers while listening, and it glimmered under the table light.