Drop Dead Gorgeous (31 page)

“I never told anyone.”

“You were a teenage girl! You were supposed
to spill everything to your best friend, me.”

Lori shook her head, sipped her drink. “At first, I didn’t know. And I had my pride. I mean, I think I did have a terrible crush on him, but I couldn’t admit it, because as far as I knew, he and Mandy were hot and heavy.”

“You didn’t even say anything to me!”

“Well, I just did. Now.”

“Almost fifteen years later—and only because you were finally caught!”

“All right, enough about me. I—”

“No, no, not yet. More about Sean. Was he really that angry? He covered it well at our house—you gave away much more than he did.”

Lori frowned. “Yes, he’s really angry. He told me what he thought, and left. And I haven’t spoken with him since.”

“I can’t believe that. He’s so protective of you!”

Lori shrugged. “He slept at the house.”

“Ahh!”

“Downstairs.”

“Oh.”

“It’s all right.”

“It will be. You’ll get it together, you know.”

“Maybe. Now, Jan, your turn. You tell me about yesterday.”

Jan flushed. “It was fine,” she said, adding, “I drank a bottle of champagne in about five minutes flat.”

“Really?”

Jan set her left hand on the table. A dazzling diamond twinkled from her ring finger.

“You’re remarrying him!” Lori gasped.

“Well, I told him I wasn’t sure yet. Oh, Lori, it was so strange, I thought I’d die. I refused to be bribed, and Brad said it wasn’t bribery, just a last fantasy to be fulfilled before
…
” Her voice trailed away. “I—” she began again, then broke off. Lori saw that she was staring at the news that had come on the television situated on a ledge at the back of the bar.

“Oh, God, look!”

Lori looked. The young anchor was speaking in a dramatically grave voice, saying that another body had been discovered, apparently the victim of the same killer who had murdered Eleanor Metz.

“Not Sue—!” Jan breathed.

A picture flashed on the screen.

Not Sue.

Jan and Lori gasped in unison.

“Muffy!” Jan and Lori cried simultaneously.

The two women stared at one another. “You knew Muffy?” Jan demanded.

“Yes,” Lori said. “She, er, worked for Andrew now and then. How did you know her?”

“She, she—” Jan stuttered, her face crimson.

“Oh, no!” Lori gasped. “Muffy Fluffy was
…
your third person?”

“Oh, my G
od! Just yesterday… and now…
oh, my God, she’s dead.”

“
A
ll I can tell you is that there’s something your mother isn’t telling you,” Tina said to Brendan. “I could hear my parents talking about
it last night. Then my mom talked to yours on the phone and got all whispery. And your uncle! Did you see his face when he caught us in my room? He looked as if he were completely wacko!”

“He lost it,” Brendan said, staring at a pair of boots in the window of a shoe store. “That’s all.”

“We’re old enough to date.”

“Yeah, but we were fooling around in your room at your house.”

“There’s more. Your mother and Sean Black went
away mad—I know, cause the lit
tle big-mouth next door saw it all and told me. Brendan, your mother did something really wrong—”

“She did not!” he snapped angrily, but he was afraid, and he didn’t want Tina to see it. Something was going on. He could feel it, and he was confused—because his mother should have been telling him about it.

“I don’t think your father was your father at all,” Tina announced.

“What do you know about my father? He was a talented musician; everybody liked him!”

“Don’t go getting ballistic on me!” Tina said.

“Well, you’ve all but called my mother a whore and me a bastard!”

“Brendan, face facts—”

“I’m going into the sub shop for a Coke,” he said. Spinning around, he left her.

“Did you want me to join you?” Tina called.

“Suit yourself!” he said angrily, assuming she would follow.

Watching him go, Tina bit into her lower lip. She hadn’t meant to get mad, and she hadn’t meant to make him mad. She had rather thought the whole thing exciting—apparently, Brendan didn’t agree.

She stood on the street, feeling hurt, and very much alone.

She turned around. A van was moving along the street. She frowned, not recognizing it, yet the driver was slowing down as if he meant to talk to her.

Then the van suddenly sped up, passing her by.

She felt very uneasy, and she didn’t know why.

L
ovely, he thought. The girl was lovely. Fresh, innocent, pretty as a picture. Ripe. So deliciously ripe. He was tempted. Her eyes were so blue, her hair so light a gold. She’d be so good to touch. And she'd be so stunned and so terrified
…

The compulsion was great.

Yet he had a different taste for death today.

Still, watching her, he could almost smell her, feel her soft young flesh, ah, yes, the taste
…

W
omen!

They were enough to drive a guy nuts!

He was half crazy about Tina, and now she was giving him all this talk about his mother. He didn’t want to hear it.

Even if he did know that it was probably true.

He strode angrily and quickly along the street, then stopped and looked back.

He didn’t see Tina. She hadn’t followed him.

He frowned, seeing that a van was slowing. He couldn’t see the driver as yet, but he sensed a familiarity. The van pulled to the sidewalk right by him, and the driver called to him.

“Brendan! Brendan Corcoran, th
ank God! Come here! It’s Tina…
”

Hell, yes, he knew the driver, the man looking at him now with such concern. Brendan rushed forward anxiously. “Tina? What’s wrong, what happened?” he demanded.

“Get in with her, hurry!”

He threw open the side door, worried sick. Had she tried to come after him, had she been hit by a car, hurt some way, what the hell
…

“What is it, please, what’s happened, what’s wrong?” Brendan demanded, looking in.

The driver gripped him by the shoulders with powerful hands; pulled him in. No rear seats, Brendan saw quickly.

And no Tina.

“What’s going on? If you’ve done anything to Tina, if you hurt her, I’ll kill you!” Brendan said sharply, afraid, and determined not to be, and suddenly knowing
…

“Hey, little man, tough guy, big talk from a kid. Tina’s just fine right now. Her time hasn’t come yet. It will. Trust me, it will. Can’t wait to taste that young honey, but for now, son, well, boy, welcome to my party.”

Like hell! He knew how to fight, and so help him, he would fight. Fight and fight
…

But a wet towel was suddenly slapped over his face. He struggled to move it, trying hard
to fight, to lash out. Make noise, if he could only scream
…

But even as he inhaled, he knew there would be no sound. He breathed something sticky and sweet
…

He struggled no more.

The fight was over.

21

“
I
’ve got to go to the ladies’ room,” Jan said, staring at the television. She was pure green.

“Are you all right?” Lori said, not sure that she was all right herself.

“I think… I don’t know…
”

“I’ll come with you—”

“No… no…
I’ll be right back,” Jan said, offering her a weak smile. “Lori, Muffy’s
dead.
”

“I know. I saw. Listen, let me help you—”

“No, no. I’ll be back.”

Lori nodded, stared at the television, and thought about Muffy. Muffy Fluffy. So nice, so sweet, strangely innocent despite the way she had chosen to make a living.

Lori listened to the news, trying to register the facts. Muffy, too, had been discovered in swampland, out on Alligator Alley.

“Ma’am, can I get you another?”

Lori looked down. She’d inhaled her drink. She shook her head. “Water, if I could, please?” He brought her water. The anchor continued speaking, telling more details about the ghastly murder.

Andrew had known Muffy well
,
worked with Muffy, was rude to her. Oh, God, Andrew
…

Brad.

Brad had used her to fulfill his fantasy. Had that fantasy been much, much more than Jan had ever imagined?

“No,” she whispered anxiously aloud.

“Excuse me?” the bartender said.

She shook her head.

It seemed that he was back immediately. “Sorry, is your friend coming back?”

“What?”

“Your friend. Her drink has melted. Did she leave, or is she coming back? I’ll fix it up for her.”

“Oh
…
uh, she just went to the rest room.”

“She okay? She’s been gone a long time.”

“Has she?” Lori asked.

“About twenty minutes.”

Lori jumped up, worried that Jan might have been really sick. “Hold the seats, please.” She started for the rest room, but the bartender called her back, lifting the phone receiver to her. “Are you Lori Kelly?”

“Corcoran,” she said. “I mean, yes, sorry. I’m Lori. My maiden name was Kelly.” God, she was absolutely babbling.

“Phone call.”

“Jan?”

“Your friend? Does she usually call you from the ladies’ room?” he teased her, but she looked at him blankly. The young man shrugged. “Sounds like a man. You might want to
move down to the corner there…
less noise.”

“Thanks.”

Phone and receiver in hand, Lori moved down the length of the bar.

“Hello?”

“Lori.”

The voice was a whisper with a rasping sound to it.

“Yes?”

“Take care, Lori Kelly, take care from this moment onward. I’m watching you. I can see your every move.”

The voice itself was enough to send a wave of cold dread sweeping into her.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she demanded.

“First, just listen, Lori Kelly. You’re wearing black slacks and a navy knit top with a scalloped neckline, smart little Timberland hiking boots. Your hair is down. Nice. I always liked it that way.”

“I don’t need a fashion assessment,” she snapped, her wits suddenly completely restored. “Who are you, what do you want?”

“The assertive female! Don’t try that bravado with me, Lori Kelly. I just want you to know that I can really see you, that I’m
watching every move you make…
ah, there you go, looking around, but you won’t find me.”

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

“What I have already is very important,” he told her. There was sibilant hissing mid-sentence, making his words rasp against her nerves as if she were listening to sharp nails snake down the length of a blackboard.

“What do you have?”

“Your son.”

She stood dead still, a feeling of dread and terror unlike anything she had known in all her life crawling over her.

“My son? Why?”

“Why? If I have your son, I have you,
don’t I, Lori Kelly? That is…
unless you simply want me to kill him now?”

Her mind began to race. Was she talking to the killer, the real killer? Was this a hoax, someone out to taunt her, hurt her, tease her, someone who knew she was associated with Sean, someone mean and cruel, just playing with her?

No. She felt it in her bones.

This was the real killer, the same killer who had drowned Mandy Olin, who had robbed them all of their youth and innocence. The same killer who had so viciously attacked Ellie, Muffy, and probably Susan, and maybe many more.

And he had Brendan.

“Where’s Jan?” she asked, suddenly knowing he had her, too.

“Sick. She won’t wake up for a while. It was really her turn. She’ll have to wait a bit now.”

“Tina?”

“Tina. Tina is luscious, delicious. Oh, am I going to enjoy her. Anticipation is sweet. But it was always you, first, Lori Kelly. Oh, yes, Lori. Always.”

“What do you want?”

“It’s time to play again. Remember how we
all
used to play? Well, it’s time to play again.”

“Who are you? Tell me? Then, I’ll know if we used to play.”

“Lori, please, don’t take me for such a fool. I’m growing impatient. I don’t want to have to finish this too soon. It will be fun, you thinking that you have a chance. Hope is such a charming quality. I’ll get to see it die in your eyes. But you do have hope, and I do have your son. So listen. And don’t forget, I’m watching you. I’m close. When we hang up, you pay your tab, walk out the door, head east, and then into the parking lot across the street. Don’t pick up a phone, and don’t ask the bartender or anyone else for help, and don’t try to leave any cute little notes with SOS messages on them or anything. I can see you. You make the slightest mistake, and I’ll start cutting your boy’s fingers off, one by one, then his ears, tip of his nose
…
You get my drift?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. I’m waiting for you, Lori Kelly. I’ve been waiting for a long time.”

“If I come, will you let Brendan go?”

“Maybe. But if you don’t come, I’ll definitely kill him. Slowly. I’ve already been fairly descriptive on that point, I believe.”

The phone went dead in her hand. Lori tried desperately to think of some means of finding help, but she knew that he was watching. She didn’t dare try to dial the operator, hit 911, or speak with the bartender, except to pay her tab. Was the killer close enough to
hear
her as well? She didn’t know. If only she could call Ricky
…

How did she know that Ricky wasn’t the killer?

Didn’t matter, she had no choice, he had Brendan, oh, God no, God no
…

“All done?” the bartender asked cheerfully. He was about thirty, bearded, pleasant.

She nodded, staring at him, trying to convey something in her eyes.

“You all right?”

She jerked her head up and down. “What do I owe you?”

“Ten even.”

She groped in her bag for a twenty, hoping he would remember the exorbitant tip if anyone came looking for her.

Who would come looking? Did anyone even know where she was? Yes, of course. They’d find Jan, and Tina, hopefully. He’d said that Jan was sick, so he must have snatched her from the bathroom through a back entrance. He also said that he anticipated having Tina
…

How had the killer gotten Brendan away from Tina, or was Tina with him had she seen anything, was she all right?

Sean, where are you?
she wondered desperately.

A strange fear, unbidden, taunted her. Perhaps he was closer than she thought. Perhaps
…

He could
not
be the killer, he couldn’t possibly want to kill his own son!

Sean had left angry. He didn’t trust her anymore. He felt that she had betrayed him.

But
he loved her, he had said that he loved her
…

He could not be the killer.

“No, change, thanks,” she said, setting the twenty on the bill for the bartender.

He was putting a glass back on the rack; he didn’t see what she had left. “Thanks. Have a good night.”

Lori exited the restaurant, walked down the street, and crossed over to the parking lot.

There were dozens of cars in it. She saw that someone in the parking lot might have a clean view of the restaurant; then again, whoever had called her might have walked out, and walked back.

Her body seemed frozen. She moved with long, jerky steps along the rows of vehicles. Many of them were vans and trucks, vehicles too large to park in any of the mall garages.

Night was falling. Dusk filled the lot. She suddenly felt that there were shadows everywhere.

She heard a noise behind her. She tried to turn.

A foul-smelling blanket was thrown over her. She struggled against it, trying to scream. A powerful arm shot out, knocking her in the head and slamming her down to the pavement. Her head rang; the blanket smelled sweet.

Oh,
God, Brendan,
I
wanted to save you!
she thought.

And lost consciousness.

S
and…
a gritty kind of sand had been found under Muffy’s nails.

Sean thought that it should mean something to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on the
nagging thing that sat in the back of his mind, refusing to come forward.

While they were at the morgue, Bill Crowley and Alex Hanson, the two homicide cops Sean had previously met with Ricky, arrived. They were determined to study the corpse themselves in search of any small detail that might help in their investigation.

While Ricky Garcia, Crowley, and Hanson were in with Gillespie, Sean bought bad coffee from a machine. Lieutenant Joseph Trent, Dr. Gillespie’s ex-husband and homicide official, came up behind him.

“My wife is right, wouldn’t you say? We’ve a really sick killer out there.”

Sean sipped from the styrofoam cup, then turned to Trent, shaking his head. “Your ex-wife thinks that I can solve this, if I can create a scenario for the last living moments of the victims.”

“My ex-wife thinks that you’re smart, and that you’re a catalyst.”

He arched a brow. “This guy was going nuts down here long before I came back.”

Joseph Trent nodded. “Yes. But he chose one of your old friends when you came back, someone involved with what happ
ened at the rock pit. And now…
well, it appears that he’s losing control. Typical of such a killer. And frightening. He’ll become careless, and perhaps greedy. And want to kill more quickly. The killer has already speeded up, as if he’s running too fast. I think he’ll trip himself soon. But it may not be soon enough.”

“Well, I think there’s something you and your team should do without wasting any more time.”

“What’s that?”

“Start with us. Ricky—me—all of us. The group from high school.”

Ricky had come up while he was speaking. His dark eyes showed a flash of anger, but it quickly faded.

He stared from Trent to Sean. “What’s this about? Back to the rock pit again? Sean, we were all there, remember? It was the cops at the time, not any of us, who thought that Mandy had been murdered. Jesus, you went to jail, you went to trial, you were all but nailed on a cross—”

“And I didn’t do it. But I do believe now that Mandy was murdered. And it’s the same killer we’re looking for now.”

Ricky smiled. “So we start with you—and me?”

“Every one of us should be suspect.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Trent said.

Ricky lifted his hands in disgust. “So grill me, Lieutenant. Make my
friend
here happy.”

“I will. And there’s a task force meeting later. I’ll be taking over control of this investigation. We’ll do some research into the whereabouts of your entire high school crew for the last fifteen years. Check out when everyone involved did so much as sneeze.”

Ricky lowered his head, then slowly raised his dark eyes to Sean’s. “Bye, buddy,” he said heatedly.

Sean nodded. “Yeah. Bye.”

“You suspect me. I’ll suspect you!” Ricky said angrily.

“Ricky, you know, I
don’t
think you’re—” Sean be
gan, but Lieutenant Trent inter
rupted. “Leave it alone. I’ll handle this.” Ricky turned around and walked away. Trent sighed softly.

“You think he’s guilty?” Sean asked.

Trent stared at him grimly. “No. But I think that you’re right. One of your group is. We have to find out who. Fast.”

When Sean finally left the morgue, he called Arnie. They compromised on the distance between Palm Beach and Miami, meeting at a diner in Ft. Lauderdale.