With Her Last Breath (12 page)

Maggie was pure business. “Watch that, okay? It isn’t good publicity for me if a client collapses while in my care. When you see Beth again, tell her I’m looking for her, okay?”

Later, Celeste would look at her hand and see the locket, hear the girls laughing, the sisters who looked alike. What had happened that caused Maggie to seem so alone? And why, suddenly, would she step out of her safe shell to ask about Beth?

She’d already tried to stop one woman’s freight train ride to hell and failed. The agony of that experience should have taught her something. She shouldn’t be doing this, getting involved with Beth, Maggie thought as she opened the camper door to the young woman’s knock.

In the third week of May, Beth appeared at Maggie’s door. Her open leather jacket revealed a lacy crop top, a belly button ring on her bare midriff, and low-slung, worn, tight jeans. The platform shoes looked as worn as the battered car parked near the camper. Beth’s hair was naturally blond and boy-cut, her eyes heavily painted.

Beth hitched up her small leather backpack on her shoulder and looked at the small wind chimes Maggie had hung outside the door. “Yeah, so I was wearing a wig when you saw me. Some men like blonds with big hair. I have a wig. Celeste said you wanted to see me. Why?”

“I thought we could have dinner and talk, relax a bit.”
I made too many mistakes with Glenda. I was so righteous…Glenda was doing the best she could…

Beth checked her watch. “Yeah, well, not too long. Celeste
said you were lonesome, or I wouldn’t be here. I owe her.”

What did Celeste see in Beth that gave her hope?

What had Maggie missed in Glenda?

“Come in. I just made a tuna casserole. Nothing too fancy.”

Beth entered slowly. “I used to stay here when I needed to hole up. The lock is easy to pick. You should get it changed…What’s this?” she asked as she picked up a red ceramic frog. “It’s ugly.”

“It’s a feng shui three-legged money frog. He’s got a Chinese coin in his mouth and is sitting on more. It’s supposed to bring money.”

“I could use one.” Beth took in the Native American leather and feather beaded ornament hanging at the window. “What’s this thing?”

“A mandella. It’s supposed to bring good luck. Do you believe in good luck, Beth?”

“No. I believe you have to take what you want.” Beth plopped her backpack down on the couch and sprawled beside Scout, petting her. “Nice dog.”

Easily swayed, Scout placed her head on Beth’s lap. “What do you want?” Beth asked as she petted the dog.

Maggie began to set the tiny table. Why did she so desperately need to help Beth? To replace Glenda? “I could use a friend.”

“I’m not listening to any preaching, so get that straight right away. And besides, you’ve got Celeste and the Alessandros, Ole and Eugene—I like old Eugene—and the women in your class think you’re something. I don’t know why you need me.”

Edgy, wary, on alert, Maggie decided as she slid into the small booth opposite the couch. “It’s just a dinner, okay? Don’t make more of it than it is.”

“Sure. Smells good.” Beth looked at Maggie as a car slowed and pulled onto the gravel area by the camper. “Expecting someone?”

“No, I’m not.” Maggie got up to open the door to Lorna.
Her late-model BMW contrasted with Beth’s dented mini-car and Maggie’s practical light pickup. Lorna’s denim jacket and jeans were designer and expensive.

Lorna glanced past Maggie to study Beth. “Well, well, well. I thought so. Lesbians,” she concluded. “Sorry to interrupt your romantic dinner. I’m Lorna—”

“Lorna-bitch,” Beth muttered. “You know we’re not lesbians. You just like to toss stuff around and see what trouble you can make. Vinnie Alessandro is too good for you, babe. Why don’t you let him off the hook? Maybe I’ll help him see what a real woman is about—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I see him look at you. And you look back, even though you were married at the time. Now you’re after Nick, because you know he’s someone you can’t have, and your sick mind works like that—you want what you can’t have. And you’re too good for Vinnie, who just runs an auto supply store and works as a mechanic, aren’t you?”

Lorna flushed. “You’re a fruitcake. Talk about trying to start trouble.”

“What can I do for you?” Maggie asked briskly. She sensed that Lorna and Beth had battled many times.

“Lay off Nick. You picked this place to be closer to him, and he’s already taken.”

“By who?” Beth asked sharply. “You? He’s smarter than that.”

Lorna smiled coldly. “I’m not bothering with you. You’re not worth it.”

Beth was on her feet, crowding Maggie from the back. Maggie braced herself, blocking Beth’s advance on Lorna. “You’ve delivered the message. Now you can go.”

Lorna’s blue eyes narrowed. “Okay, let me put it like this. I can help Nick, you can’t. He may want to play a bit, but he needs big money to turn that tiny vineyard into a paying proposition. He needs someone with class. In the end, he’ll come back to me. I’m on my way to see him now.
There’s a buyer for a private client coming into town and I’m going to arrange a meeting for Nick. He’ll want my help.”

“You just do that.” Maggie didn’t want to think of Nick holding Lorna, kissing her in that sweet, hungry way he had kissed Maggie.

With that, Lorna walked to her car. She leveled a cold stare at Maggie and burned rubber as she left.

“Bummer,” Beth muttered as she dug into the casserole. She plopped a hefty amount of salad onto her plate and poured half of the small oil and vinegar cruet mix over it. “Just because Lorna inherited Big Daddy’s money, she thinks she’s hot stuff. She won’t lower herself to date Vinnie, and he’s really a nice guy. Watch out for her. She has a thing about getting what she wants.”

“Put some sunflower seeds on that.” While Beth spooned out her second serving, Maggie sat and closed her eyes. She tried to cleanse her mind of all anger, to enjoy the meal with Beth. She didn’t succeed and ended up pushing her food around on her plate. She didn’t need to be involved in anyone’s business but her own, and here she was thinking that she could help Beth, and on the bad side of a woman who wanted Nick.

She wanted Nick. Or sex. Somehow the two mingled together and were difficult to separate. His black eyes carried sultry messages that turned the air steamy between them, and tiny motors within her body had started humming at the sight of him.

When Beth had cleaned her plate, she leaned back on the couch and studied Maggie. Scout sat beside her on the small couch, and Beth slung an arm around the dog. “She got to you, didn’t she?”

“I don’t like being attacked in my own home, for something I didn’t do. Nick isn’t on my agenda.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

Maggie couldn’t help smiling. “Smarty pants.”

“What a nice way to say ‘smart ass.’ But then you’ve got a lot of class. It shows.”

Beth grinned, looking very young beneath her makeup. She settled back with the bottled water Maggie handed her. “Nick is hot stuff. So is Dante. Nice, you know. Good guys. Not for me. Nick is still in love with his wife. If Lorna got a piece of him, it was because he was messed up at the time. I know about stuff like that—that missing someone who died, or who left you, can make you reach out for the wrong things. You try to fight it, but you’re human, you know? And you make mistakes. Oh, maybe not you, but me. I make mistakes.”

“I make plenty of mistakes.”
She hadn’t understood Glenda’s pain; Maggie had been so righteous…

Beth’s head tilted. “So what’s the deal? You’ve got class, enough to match Lorna-bitch, and no one knows anything about you…except maybe Celeste, and she’s not talking.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“I saw you run the other day, working it, sweating, fighting something inside you. I’m not much, but I can listen. And if you want to get in the running with Nick, try looking like a girl. Loose sweat suits and grubbies don’t cut it when it comes to men. I can loan you something if you want.” The quiet, heartfelt offer was atypical of Beth’s reported hardness.

Maggie smiled at that; she’d wanted to help Beth, and now the girl had turned the tables. She scraped the remainder of the food into containers and placed them on the table. “Take those. Come by and see me now and then. If you hear of anyone needing a sports massage or personal trainer, tell them about me, okay?”

Beth’s hard, knowing eyes were solemn. “I mix with the summer crowd after the bar closes. Ed thinks it’s good for business. There’s good money to be made on those private yacht parties. But some of the guys might think the massage bit should include extras, you know?”

“No extras provided,” Maggie stated flatly.

“Your call. Gotta go. Got an appointment. Thanks for the dinner.”

At the door, Maggie touched Beth’s arm. “Listen, Beth, if ever you need someone, I’m here. You can crash here when you want. I’ll make up the couch.”

“Yeah, right. See you.”

Maggie couldn’t let her go just yet. She couldn’t bear to think of Beth being used as Glenda had been, dying of a drug overdose. She gripped Beth’s shoulders. “Don’t let him beat you, Beth. It isn’t worth it.”

“He doesn’t mean it. He was raised rough. It doesn’t happen that much and I owe him. I’ve been with him a long time. He took me in despite Shirley’s squawling—she was his girlfriend for a long time, and maybe some nights she still is. They go way back…Listen, you’re all worked up. Did that happen to you?”

The nightmare of Glenda’s descent tore by Maggie. “To someone I knew. I don’t want it happening to you. And stay off drugs.”

“They can lighten the load. I’m not a regular user—”

“Don’t,” Maggie stated fiercely. “Look, I’d offer you a job if I could, but I can’t. Isn’t there something else you can do? They’re looking for help at Nick’s winery.”

Beth shrugged, that hard, determined look on her face. “I’m not qualified for anything that pays good, and I don’t want to screw up Nick’s business. I’ll be around, but it won’t help your business to be seen with me. I know about class distinction and money making. And you look like you could use some money. Take it easy.”

“Beth?”

“Hmm?”

Maggie stuffed the feng shui frog and the mandella into Beth’s backpack. “For luck.”

Maybe she should have given her sister more support of any kind, instead of condemning her for her affair. Maybe she should have understood how a predator could fasten onto Glenda’s insecurities and use them. Never strong in her self-worth, Glenda was perfect for the seduction that ruined her life.

Maggie couldn’t deny her feelings for Beth—to protect and help, and just maybe to love as her own sister.

For a moment, Beth’s youth and softness slid through the hard look. “Are you sure you want to give me these? You might need them for good luck.”

“I’m going to be okay. I had to start a new life, and yours is waiting there for you, too.”

Stark pain washed across Beth’s face. “I’ve blown it. My life is crap.”

“No, you haven’t. I know. And Celeste thinks you’re wonderful. So there’s the two of us. How many do you need to believe in you?”

“How many to turn a dumb blond’s light bulb, right?” Beth asked sadly.

“We can do it, Beth. All of us together. In my way, I need you.”
If I couldn’t help Glenda, maybe I could help you and then myself…

When Beth was gone, Maggie sat down to hold Scout and allowed the tears to come. “I miss Glenda so much, Scout. I shouldn’t try to make Beth into my little sister, and yet I can’t help myself. What if I would make the same mistakes again? Is this about what she needs, or about what I need, another chance to save someone like my sister and to do it right this time?”

Maggie cared more for others than for herself. To harm them first would make a payment on what she owed him…to make her know that she caused their deaths…

Far from San Francisco, on a long stretch of Interstate, Brent tightened the garrote on the prostitute. Now tied to the bed and squirming beneath him, she’d been easy enough to spot at the Interstate’s truck stop, so easy to get into the motel, so eager to feed her drug habit. He’d needed to get away from the city to feed his own personal habit, practicing the murder of Maggie.

“Tell me you love me,” he ordered, angry that she wasn’t Maggie—or someone Maggie knew.

How often had he played this game with Glenda and others?

But pseudo-Maggies never really completed the game. No woman’s voice had ever matched hers, their bodies not as sleek or powerful.

He had to be careful and not let his obsession rule him too soon, controlling his need to punish Maggie.

He fought himself and yet when the prostitute croaked that she loved him, sex rose and consumed him. When he returned to control, the woman lay dead and limp beneath him.

Garbage, not like Maggie at all, he thought. Maggie would have fought more, given him more pleasure. This woman was low-life garbage that he had to manipulate into the trunk of his car, driving to an isolated place to dump her.

“Maggie, this is all because of you,” he whispered cheerfully later, as he drove away from the woman’s shallow grave. “You’re out there. I feel you breathing. It’s your fault if others die because of you.”

Nick took his time in the shower; he was sweaty and tired and restless. The sap was moving in the grapevines, warming to the sun, and he wasn’t exactly certain that the same thing wasn’t happening to him—kissing Maggie, holding her, had only made him want more.

He tried to turn his mind to business. The mortgage was due, and despite himself, he wanted to meet the buyer for the rich client as Lorna had offered. With the wine-tasting festivals and the fall fairs coming up, he might make a few connections, but satisfied wealthy customers who bought by the caseload were the best promotions.

But Maggie kept coming back to his mind. He tried not to remember the way she had crooned as she bathed, a feminine symphony of orgasmic sounds that haunted his nights.

He dried, tugged on his boxer shorts, and slung the towel around his shoulders just as he heard a dog’s excited barking. He opened the back door and Scout raced in to jump on him.
Nick shoved the dog in play, and Scout raced around the house. “Hey, she’s not going to like this.”