Midsummer's Eve, Page 7

  “We don’t know anything about where she shops or spends her time when the Neanderthal isn’t with her.” Teri murmured and closed her eyes as she licked a dab of stray whipped cream from her lips.

  “We need her phone number so Eric can call her,” Mallory said attempting to pull her distressed gaze from the sight of Teri, who had already scooped out half of the 9 x 13 forbidden delicacy.

  Unfortunately Mallory knew, as did Tammy and I, that we would all be on the receiving end of harsh phone calls riddled with obscenities when Teri either remembered this lapse in judgment or stepped on the scales, whichever came first. She would berate us repeatedly for not having the common sense of a warthog to chop off her fingers in an effort to cease the dreaded sweets from contributing to the ruination of her perfect figure.

  “Is it in the phone book?” Teri mumbled around a cherry.

  “No, I’ve already checked.” Mallory, Tammy, and I shoved Teri’s spoon aside and ladled out desert while there was still some left.

  Think, Eve, think! How could we get her phone number?

  “I’ve got it!” Teri shrieked, her glazed eyes evidence of a sugar high. “It would be on Adam's home phone.”

  Yes, her number would be on Adam’s home phone. According to Justin, he and Chia wiled away many lazy afternoons on the phone. On the rare occasion when they weren’t in each other’s arms that is. “You are absolutely right.” I gave Teri a high five. “It would be, wouldn’t it? How did you get so dang smart?”

  “It’s a gift,” she answered in her typical matter of fact fashion, all the while scraping the dish for the last smidgeon of desert and seeming overwrought that it was gone. Tammy saw Teri eyeing her dessert dish and ate faster.

  “Can you get in the houth and get the number?” Tammy asked, peeking at Teri from under her lashes.

  If I know Tammy, and I do, she would take her phone off the hook until Teri had been given sufficient time to rake Mallory and me over the coals and, hopefully forget about her in the process. Somehow, I always got stuck with the dirty work.

  Getting into Adam’s house - now that could prove to be somewhat of a challenge. I had to ponder that for a minute. I was certain that he locked the doors to his house of ill repute before leaving. Then it hit me like a lightening bolt streaking through the window behind the sink. “He told me once that he leaves one of his kitchen windows unlocked in case he loses his keys.”

  “The absentminded lunatic does have cause for concern.” Teri rubbed her temples as if the mere thought of Adam caused her head to ache. “But there you go! Crawl in the window and get it off his caller ID.”

  Well, didn’t Teri make it sound like the easiest and most perfectly legal act of breaking and entering in the world? Of course, I would do it. It would be worth shivering on a cot in a jail cell for one night to bring Adam a little pain and suffering. Yep, I would do it, but not without an able accomplice. “Will you come with me, Mallory?”

  “You know I will.” She grinned and excitedly rubbed her hands together. She was always game for any adventure. “When do you want to do it?”

  “Tonight. I am so ready to show Adam first hand just how painful love can be.”

  Teri and Tammy said their goodbyes and Mallory and I put on our spy gear. The only thing missing from this Mission Impossible scene was Tom Cruise.

  Adam’s shift ended at 11:00 and he would be home by 12:00, on the off chance that he wasn’t sleeping over with his paramour. It was 10:15, so time was of the essence.

  Don’t you know two grown women had never looked quite as ridiculous as we did skulking around in our black coats, gloves and toboggans? The gloves were so we wouldn’t leave fingerprints, of course. You know I read every single word Patricia Cornwell writes and never miss an episode of CSI.

  And what about my Jeep? Was I supposed to park it in his driveway during our daring venture into espionage? No, there was a wooded lot across from his house. I could park on the back side and cut through the woods. Then we would cross the dirt road, hopefully without being seen or heard. Damn! I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten the duct tape for Mallory’s mouth.

  I parked the Jeep as close to the edge of the woods as possible. Adrenaline gushed through my veins as I switched off the engine. Thankfully clouds were covering the full moon, so we felt semi‑safe. “Let’s do this!”

  Stepping out, we were greeted by a chorus of croaking bullfrogs, buzzing mosquitoes, chirping crickets and a hooting owl. Now that was unusual. Whoever heard of mosquitoes being a nuisance in the dead of winter? I might have given that thought further contemplation, if Mallory hadn’t rushed up beside me and began her nonstop, nervous chatter. We stealthily scooted from tree to tree, like amateur cat burglars, trying to stay in the shadows.

  “Hush, Mallory!” The girl had squealed like a pig when a whippoorwill in the tree directly overhead issued an alarm. He was fulfilling his duty as night watchman by signaling the forest creatures that a stranger was in their midst. “It was just a whippoorwill.”

  “Well, he needs to be quiet!”

  “Don’t count on it. Once those birds start singing they never hush.”

  “What if the cops ride by?”

  “They won’t.”

  “What if Adam has an alarm system?”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “What if a neighbor has dogs and they start barking?”

  “They don’t.”

  “I just know someone is standing at the window watching us.”

  “Well then, stop talking so much and start moving your big ass!”

  “Men never complain about my big… Oh! Oh! Oh! I just felt something scurry over my foot!”

  “It was your imagination, Mallory. Please, be quiet! When you feel something slither across your foot, then you will have reason to worry.”

  “Why did you say slither? There could be a copperhead pilot or a rattlesnake at our feet and we wouldn’t even know it until it was too late.”

  After a short while the girl’s eternal whining could start to grate on your last piece of nerve and she would no doubt wake even the neighbors with hearing aids.

  “What if the window is locked?”

  She was such a worrier. “I brought a credit card, just in case. Have you ever opened a door with a credit card?”

  “Lots of times.” She chuckled as we cautiously raced across the street. “It’s easy.”

  Somehow I knew she had, but we had reached Adam’s house so I didn’t question her motive for having acquired that particular life skill. With our backs pressed against the house, we slid around the brick wall checking windows until we finally hit pay dirt. The one in the dining room was unlocked.

  “Crawl in, Mallory.”

  “Me? Why don’t you crawl in?”

  “Because I am 10 years older than you. Now stop all your caterwauling and crawl in before someone sees us!”

  “Eve, sometimes you worry the piss outta me!” She complained loudly, but raised the window and hauled her oversized derriere over the windowsill. Although she let it be known by loud huffing and puffing that she was far from happy about having the duty delegated to her. I heard her stumbling around inside, then she finally found the back door and opened it. “How are we going to see? Surely the neighbors will notice and call Adam at work if we turn on a light.”

  I slapped my palm against my forehead in frustration. “Of all the idiotic things! Can you believe I forgot to bring a freaking flashlight?”

  “Well, it was kinda spur of the moment. We didn’t exactly case the joint and plan for days like most master criminals would. Where’s the phone?”

  “To your right on the wall.” I was anxiously feeling around in the pitch-black room and praying that Adam hadn’t had the forethought to set booby traps for a situation just such as this. But, never mind. As a general rule Adam doesn’t have forethought.

  “Ouch! Shit!” Mallory yelped, banging her thigh against the kitchen table. “Here!” She handed me the cordless
phone followed by the sound of her vigorously rubbing her thigh. “That’s gonna leave a bruise and you know I hate bruises!”

  “Just turn out the lights and the man of the hour won’t even notice it.”

  My eyes aren’t what they used to be and I hadn’t thought to grab my reading glasses, so I grabbed the phone and opened the refrigerator door for light. I hit scroll on his caller ID and there was Chia. About a hundred times! The talkative tramp!

  Grabbing the pen and paper from my pocket, the only things I had remembered to bring in my haste, I jotted down her number and suppressed the urge to send the phone sailing through the nearest window. As I was writing, my eyes were drawn toward a blinking red light in the corner. His answering machine! Well now, I wonder who was leaving messages. It certainly hadn’t been me. Should I or shouldn’t I? I pressed play!

  “Hey, baby.” A sultry, Asian voice purred from the machine. “Are you wake? How you sleep without me in you arm?”

  Well gag me with a frigging fork!

  Then, yet another Asian voice, “Hey Adam, call me when you wake up. I think I can stop by tomorrow around noon.”

  I had been hearing depressing rumors lately that Chia wasn’t the only one sharing Adam’s crumpled bed. The pain in my chest felt like someone had my heart in a vise grip. “Let’s get out of here.” But as I turned to leave I noticed one of those disposable cameras on the kitchen table. Who still uses those? Let’s see. Should I or shouldn’t I? I was already breaking and entering. I might as well add theft to the charge. I slipped the camera into my pocket without the worrywart even noticing.

  The woods were even creepier and more ominous walking back to the Jeep with the song of a whippoorwill echoing through the still forest. “Whip-poor-will. Whip-poor-will.”

  I had a serious case of jitters and prayed that the sounds I heard were only the workings of an over stimulated imagination. The sounds such as limbs breaking too close to us with loud snaps that echoed through the woods like a rifle shot penetrating the darkness.

  Maybe it was a deer.

  Dead leaves being crunched on the damp, moss covered ground as if someone were skipping over them a short distance from us.

  Maybe it was a deer.

  The sound of leaves rustling and stirring in the trees, when the leaves had long since fallen from the trees. Okay! I doubt even Bambi could make leaves appear on barren trees!

  At that moment, the moon shone through the clouds and illuminated the skeletal limbs that towered over us. We stopped dead in our tracks, as the woods were suddenly filled with the haunting melody of a child’s playful laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Mallory demanded.

  “It wasn’t me.” I whispered peering into the trees with building apprehension.

  “What tha…what do you mean, it wasn’t you?” She screeched and took off in a sprint.

  Glancing up, I saw a small shadowy form or something considerably larger than a whippoorwill or an owl perched on a limb in the tree directly overhead. I stood still, too terrified to move a muscle.

  “Mallory, look up at that tree,” I whispered hoping not to draw undue attention to myself. But Mallory was long gone. The girl left me in a trail of dust and evidently didn’t slow down until she stood trembling and gasping for breath beside the Jeep. When I realized that I was alone, in the woods with. . . something… you can believe I wasn’t far behind her.

  “Why did you lock the door?” Mallory whimpered, her breath catching in her throat as I caught up to her. “Did you see him, Eve?” Then, without waiting for me to reply, she answered her own question. “It was the little boy, wasn’t it? It was the same little boy your Dad saw, wasn’t it? I saw him… in the tree! He was laughing! Did you hear him laughing? Oh Lord, we have a ghost after us for real! You know I can’t take this shit, Eve! Why did I let you talk me into doing something this stupid? Did you hear that sinister laughter, Eve? He was laughing!”

  “Yes, I heard laughing and no, I don’t know who or what it was. And I thought I saw something, but it was probably just my imagination.” Leaning back in the seat, I took a deep breath and tried to calm my frazzled nerves. “It gets kinda spooky around here at night.”

  “Spooky? Hell, that ain’t even the word for it! These woods are downright evil! They remind me of the woods in the Blair Witch Project!”

  It had to be my imagination, didn’t it? Of course it did! When I could finally get my trembling fingers to fit the key into the ignition, I put the Jeep in reverse and backed out into the road slinging gravel. I drove home terrified that the little boy would skip across the road in front of us, or be swinging from an overhanging tree limb as I drove under it, then leap onto the hood and press his hideous face against the windshield. Here I was selfishly worrying about myself. Poor Mallory would have a seizure on the spot!

  When we returned to my house, Mallory adamantly refused to drive home alone. I heard her rummaging through my dresser drawer until she found pajamas that fit over her supersized backside and crawled in my bed. I double checked the locks on all the doors and windows and joined her. It was then the delayed thought struck me that if the child could appear and disappear at will - a locked door probably wouldn’t present much of a challenge for him. Screw the electric bill. I left every light in the house on.

  I had just pulled the covers over me and was reaching to set the alarm when the phone rang. Picking up the receiver I heard, “I cannot believe how truly ignorant the lot of you are! The Three Stooges in female form. You know how taxing it is for me to maintain this perfect figure, yet you sit idly by and allow me to stuff my mouth with enough pure cane sugar to send me into a diabetic coma and….”

  I handed the phone to Mallory. “It’s for you.” Then I put a pillow over my head to drown out Teri’s ceaseless tirade and went to sleep.

  I was awakened sometime during the night when a whippoorwill perched on the ledge outside my window and called, “whip‑poor‑will, whip‑poor‑will, whip‑poor‑will” in his mournful echo through the otherwise quiet night.

  I felt like one of the walking dead when I rolled out of bed the following morning, but I was grateful for the light of day. Visions of the little boy had danced through my head for the better part of the night. And when the child had finally taken a break from disturbing my sleep, the whippoorwill had filled in with his haunting lament.

  Stumbling down the hall to make coffee I heard Mallory rapping in the shower to a song about the joys of sex, smoking pot, and drinking something purple.

  Only after I had my first cup of the steaming aromatic brew in my hands did I remember that I was anxious to drop off the pilfered roll of film and then get to work and talk to Eric. Hopefully he would agree to the plan the girls and I had devised and Operation Pay Back is A Royal Bitch could commence.

  Six

  Eric agreed totally and enthusiastically to the plan. Especially after Mallory’s gushing rendition, she told it to anyone who would listen, of the Fair Chia’s resemblance to a frigging supermodel. Quite frankly, I had long since tired of the comparison. When was the last time she had witnessed a 4 foot 9 model sashaying down a runway?

  There were still a few kinks to be worked out of our plan. Eric couldn’t call Chia from work, because we couldn’t block calls and I couldn’t have my work number showing up on her caller ID. He didn’t want to call from his cell because he didn’t trust the block feature on cells. His number at home was private, so I gave him an extra long lunch break to call from home.

  I ordered barbecue chicken with creamed potatoes and green beans for lunch in the cafeteria, but the first bite settled sourly on my stomach. I slid the plate toward Mallory who mumbled, “Thanks,” around her cheeseburger. The girl was a bottomless pit and I had never once known her to lose her appetite. You can talk about snot ‘til the cows came home and she won’t even flinch.

  How could I concentrate on toilets and scuffed floors at a time like this? I was a bundle of nerves waiting on Eric’s return. This was tortur
e! I had to do something to occupy my mind! And why was I sitting here waiting on Eric when I could be at CVS picking up the purloined photos?

  I sat in the parking lot staring at the unopened pack of photos. Did I really want to see what was inside? Yes! My hands shook violently as I settled back in the Jeep and found the courage to open the pack. Believe me, what I saw made me wish I had left the damn roll of film on his table. I should have known nothing good would come from stealing.

  The first photo was of Adam and Chia standing in front of the Biltmore House with their cheeks pressed against each other as they stood arm in arm behaving like a much in love, blissfully happy couple.

  At Thanksgiving, Adam had told me his parents were flying in from Maine to meet him in Asheville and spend the holiday in the mountains. I remembered his exuberance over what I had thought was a family gathering as I helped him pack. Instead, he had evidently taken Chia to the scenic destination. This reality and the depth of Adam’s lies was another crushing blow as I sat alone in the parking lot and had a good cry.

  I shook off the building despair and continued through the photos. There were snapshots of each of them plopped down on boulders with Grandfather Mountain in the background. Chia’s photo was of her blowing a disgusting kiss to the photographer. There were shots of them holding hands, evidently taken by an innocent bystander while crossing the Mile High Swinging Bridge. Shots at snow covered Blowing Rock. There were even a few shots at Tweetsie Railroad with Chia giggling and clearly flirting with a wild-west gunslinger.

  There were still more photos of her in provocative poses on the bed in a hotel room, with a come hither look in her seductive gaze. Then I came to the shots of her in a bikini at the indoor pool and hot tub.

  Oh Joy! Oh Joy! Oh Joy! There is a God!

  Her stomach looked like someone had pulled the plug on a hand grenade just under the skin. I grinned wickedly at the sight of her wrinkled globs of lumpy, over‑stretched folds of mottled flesh spilling over her bikini bottom. Ugly red stretch marks, at least an inch wide, riddled her abdomen causing it to resemble a road map. And the girl had the guts to wear a bikini! Had she no pride? It was a profound relief to know that she may be extraordinarily attractive from the neck up, but her stomach resembled that of a 500-pound woman a year after gastric bypass surgery.