Cuts (27 page)

PART TWO

AUGUST, 2000

SIXTY-EIGHT

MALIBU, CALIFORNIA

The ringing doorbell woke Lisa up. Rolling onto her back, she opened her eyes. Her bedroom was bright with sunlight. The curtains
above her head swelled outward, filled with a cool morning breeze. She heard the squeal of seagulls, the smooth
shushhhh
of the surf.

The doorbell rang again.

Frowning, Lisa sat up and looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand.

8:17.

Who would be coming to the door this early on a Saturday morning?

None of her friends even knew she was staying here.

She climbed out of bed and slipped into her moccasins.

Whoever it is, she thought, let him wait. Maybe he’ll get tired of waiting and go away. Him, her, whatever.

She certainly had no intention of answering the door in her nightshirt.

The bell rang again.

Insistent son of a bitch.

She pulled off her nightshirt, folded it and stuffed it into her dresser drawer. Then she took out a pair of faded red shorts and put them on. In the closet, she found the blue work shirt
that she liked to wear around the beach house.

The doorbell rang again.

“Hold your water,” Lisa muttered.

She put the shirt on and buttoned it. On her way to the door, she rolled its sleeves up her forearms.

“Just a minute,” she called.

She opened the oak door. Through the mesh of the outer security door, she saw a man standing on the front porch. His gray
hair was pulled back in a ponytail; he wore dark sunglasses and had a thick mustache and beard. His white knit shirt hugged
a pumped-up torso and flat belly. A beeper hung on his belt. His tan trousers looked brand-new. So d id th e white Top-Siders
on hi s feet.

Has
to be a movie guy, she thought.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I’m here to see Evan Collier,” he said. There was a thickness, a sluggishness to his speech as if his tongue didn’t work
quite the way it should.

“I’m afraid he’s not here this morning.”

“Oh? This
is
his residence?”

“It’s his beach house, but he isn’t here. Was he expecting you?”

“I
thought
he was. I’m Wayne Kemper. I’m here to interview him for
Film Weekly
.” He shook his head. “There must be some sort of a mix-up.”

“Looks that way,” Lisa said.

“Would you know how I might reach him?”

“Far as I know, he’s at the other house.”

“Oh, dear. I suppose
that’s
where I’m supposed to be. I’m afraid I don’t even have the
address
for the other house.” He glanced at his wristwatch, then shook his head. “I’m
already
late. Oh, this is awful. I’ll be in
so
much trouble.”

“Let me give Dad a call,” Lisa said. “I’ll let him know…”

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you must be Lisa!”

She nodded.

“I didn’t recognize…well, of course, I can’t
see
you through this door. But I haven’t laid eyes on you since you were…oh, four or five years old, I should think.”

“We’ve met?” she asked.

“Why, of course. I knew your father and mother
very
well. In fact, I knew Janet before she married your father.”

“You knew her
before?
”

“Oh, yes. Very well. They’ve never spoken of me?” he asked. “Wayne Kemper?”

Lisa shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see her through the door’s mesh. “I’m not sure. The name
does
sound a little familiar.”

“Anyway, I
am
late for our interview. Your parents must be wondering why I haven’t shown up yet.
Would
you give your father a call, explain the situation and tell him I’ll be over as soon as possible?”

“Sure. Glad to.” She unlocked the security door and swung it open. “Why don’t you wait inside while I call?”

Wayne smiled. “Oh, there you are.” He entered the house. “And what a lovely young lady you’ve turned out to be.”

“Thanks.”

He stepped into the house and pulled the security door shut behind him. “So,” he said, “how does it feel to be the daughter
of two such famous writers?”

“It’s all right,” she said.

“Do you have ambitions in that direction, yourself?”

“No way. But my little sister might turn into a writer.”

“And what do
you
do?”

“I’m a teacher.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Your mother was a teacher, wasn’t she? Before she became an author?”

“Yeah, for a few years. But you’re supposed to be interviewing Dad, not me. I’ll…”

“You bear a
striking
resemblance to your mother,” Wayne said. “
Astonishing
.”

“Well, thanks.”

“I knew your mother when she was just about your age. She was a stunning beauty.”

“She still looks pretty good,” Lisa said.

“You could be her
clone
.” Wayne took off his sunglasses. “Such a beauty,” he said.

She tried not to stare.

He looked as if he’d had a very bad accident at one time—an accident that destroyed his eye and scarred his face from the
corner of his eye almost to his ear.

The left eye was obviously fake. Not a good fake, either; it gazed downward at a lower angle than his real eye so that it
seemed to be studying her breasts.

“I’d better make that call,” she said, and turned away.

She took only one step before the sunlight started sliding out of the foyer. She looked back. Wayne was shutting the main
door.

“You don’t have to shut that,” she said.

“Yeah, I do,” Wayne said. “We don’t want anyone hearing your screams.”

Lisa went cold and numb.

Wayne reached behind him, took something out of the seat pocket of his trousers, and raised it in front of his face. A blade
suddenly flicked out and snapped into place.

A long, thin blade that tapered to a point.

“Hey,” Lisa said.

“Hey, yourself.”

Her heart pounded hard and fast as if trying to smash its way out of her chest.

“What do you want?” Lisa asked.

He grinned. “I’m Albert Mason Prince.”

“Big whoop.”

“You don’t
know
about me?”

“What am I supposed to know?”

“Your mother did this to me.” He swept his empty

hand in front of his face. “She never
told
you about her encounters with the infamous killer, Albert Mason Prince?”

Infamous killer?

“I never heard of you,” she said.

“Ever see
scars
on your mother? On her hands and arms, on her leg, on her
belly?
”

“She walked through a plate-glass door.”

Laughing, he said, “
I’m
the door.”

“
You
made those cuts on her?”

“With my little knife.” He gave his switchblade a twirl. “And I fucked her, too. Her
and
you.”

“Huh?”

“I fucked
you
, too. You were
in
her when I did it. So I got both of you at once.”

“She was pregnant with me?” Lisa asked.

“And
so
scared I’d hurt you, her precious little fetus.” He gave his knife another twirl. “I was all set to cut you right out of her.
Sure glad I didn’t, though. I’d done that, we wouldn’t be having our little fun this morning.”

“
I’m
not having fun,” Lisa said.

“Let’s see what you look like naked.”

“Let’s not.”

“Oooo, you’re a fiesty one. I like that. Your mom was fiesty, too. She nailed me good.” He grinned again. “But now it’s payback
time. She only
thinks
she won. She’ll have another thing coming after I get done with you. Now take off your clothes.”

“You don’t want to do this,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“That’s what you think.”

He stepped toward her.

She stood motionless, trembling.

“When I get done with you,” Albert said, “your mom’s gonna wish she was never born. She’ll wish
you
were never born, too.”

“Don’t do this, Albert.”

He slid the knife down the front of her shirt. After slicing off every button, he raised the knife toward his mouth. For a
moment, he looked as if he might clamp it between his teeth. Then he let out at iny huff of laughter and moved the blade
close to Lisa’s eye.

“Take it off,” he said, “or I’ll take your eye out. Just like your mom did to me.”

She spread open her shirt, slipped it off her shoulders and let it slide down her arms.

Albert lowered the knife slightly. As he pressed its point against her cheek, his other hand began to fondle her breasts.
He moaned. His good eye slid shut, but his glass eye remained open and seemed to be watching the activities of his hand without
much real interest.

“Know the last time I felt one of these?” he asked.

She didn’t answer, but she winced as he squeezed her right breast.

“I was just seventeen, and it was your mom’s. She had the last set of tits I ever saw…or felt.” His good eye opened
and peered at her. “She was the last gal I ever fucked, too.”

“Been in prison?” Lisa asked.

“Something like that.”

Oh, God, he’s probably got AIDS!

He twisted her nipple, laughed as she cried out in pain, then said, “Loony bin.” He pinched it. “Thanks to your mom.” He released
her nipple and shoved his hand down the front of her shorts. “But now I’m out.” He spread her, fingered her. “I’m all well
and free as a bird.”

“Stop that.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Stop right now. Please.”

“Oh, honey, this is just the start. This is gonna be
so
sweet.”

“Somebody’s going to get hurt.”

“I know, I know. That’s the fun part.”

“Don’t do this, Albert. Get your hand out of there.”

“Mmmm.”

His fingers slipped into her.

“Don’t,” she said.

They slithered in deeper.

“I’m not my mom,” Lisa said.

“Oh, you’re
better
. I can already see that. I can already
feel
that. You’re so smooth and juicy and…”

She clutched his knife hand and twisted it. As Albert gasped with pain and surprise, the knife flew from his fingers. Then
she
broke
one of them, snapped it backward so it popped like a twig. Before he could get his other hand out of her shorts, she’d popped
two more of his fingers.

“Mom’s the
nice
one,” Lisa said.

She drove a thumb into Albert’s good eye and gouged it out.

“This time you picked the wrong babe…”

As his knees pounded the marble floor, Lisa drove her right knee into his nose.

“…to fuck with.”

He slammed down on his back.

Lisa pulled off her moccasins and picked them up. Holding them in one hand, she stepped out of her shorts. She picked up her
shorts, then her shirt. She took her clothes and moccasins into the living room, dropped them to the floor and came striding
back into the foyer naked.

“Don’t get excited, Al. I just don’t want to get blood on my stuff.”

He writhed on his back, clutching his bloody face.

“Oh,” Lisa said. “Forgot. You can’t
see
me, can you? Too bad. I’m bare-ass naked. Guess you’ll have to use your imagination.”

She stepped past his feet, jerked his legs apart and knelt between them.

“I
do
know who you are, by the way. Mom and Dad told me all about you.”

She drove a fist into his groin. He grunted and his knees jumped up.

“Why do you think I let you into the house? Did you think I was a fool? I don’t let
strangers
in.”

She grabbed one of Albert’s feet and jerked the TopSider off it. She tossed the shoe over her shoulder, then went after his
other foot. “I always thought you should’ve gotten the death penalty.”

She scurried across the marble foyer, snatched up the switchblade and hurried back to him.

“For that matter,” she said, “I thought
Mom
should’ve killed you when she had the chance.”

She picked up one of his bare feet and slashed through the Achilles tendon.

Albert screamed.

“Mom’s always been too nice.”

She picked up his other foot and slashed the tendon. Albert’s howl of agony made her ears hurt.

“Mom thinks
I’m
mean-spirited. Do you think so, Al?”

He didn’t answer.

“I think I’m just
practical
,” Lisa said. “I didn’t cut your tendons to be
mean
, just to keep you from getting away.”

Lisa tossed the knife across the foyer.

“This time, Albert, you don’t go anywhere.”

Slipping and sliding on the bloody marble, she made her way around to the side of Albert’s thrashing, writhing body.

“Mom and Dad aren’t
at
our other house, by the way. They’re on a three-week cruise to Hawaii with their good friends Meg and Mosby. My brother and
sister are spending most of the summer in New York City with May Beth Bonner. The actress? I guess you know who
she
is, don’t you? Hell, you helped launch her career. All that publicity…”

Lisa squatted, reached out and unfastened the buckle of Albert’s belt.

“Life works in strange ways, doesn’t it?”

She opened the waist button of his trousers.

“The upshot is, everyone’s far, far away for the next three weeks, I’m on summer break from school, and
I
have the only key to the house.”

She slid his zipper down.

“Just you and me, Al. Won’t this be fun?”

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