Hot Rocks (20 page)

forty-nine

I returned my attention
to Tomasco. “Here’s the deal. This weapon holds five rounds.” I waved the pistol. “When I went into the hall, I unloaded four of them. Now it’s time to play Beth’s version of Russian roulette. You can guess the game, can’t you? I spin the cylinder, point and pull the trigger. If we have an empty chamber under the hammer, nothing happens. If it’s the one with the bullet … well, oops, we have a boom.”

I pointed the pistol toward his limp manhood as I talked. Its shrinkage increased with each word. “However, instead of holding the gun against my temple as in the normal game, I’ll just point it at your Mr. Happy. Ready?”

He covered himself with his hands and closed his eyes.

“Damn, deary, you are tough,” Dot said. “Hell, even I ain’t never shot a man’s dick off.” She cackled. “This I gotta see. Hope that bullet’s in the right hole.”

I cut my eyes at Dot and grinned, then back to Tomasco. Without taking my eyes off him, I spun the cylinder. “Open your eyes, you creep. You made me look at your photographs. You can face this.”

He didn’t move.

“You either open your eyes and move your hands, or I use the automatic. I know there’s a round chambered in that. It’ll leave holes in your hands and still take off all they cover.”

His eyes crept open and stared at the .32. His face was greener and tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Much better. Now, move your hands so we can get on with the game.” I took careful and slow aim.

His hands stayed in place.

“You’re still doing it. Do you want me to shoot through them? Then, not only will you have no penis, but your hands will be useless.”

Slowly, his hands moved to the side and rested on his thighs. “Please don’t do this. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll give you anything you want. Please, please.” His head bowed, and the trickle on his cheeks became a flow. Mucous ran from his nose as he bawled like a two-year old.

I hesitated, enjoying his suffering. He was the bastard who put me through hell worrying about my mother and David. I waited until his eyes came back to me, then pulled the trigger.

The hammer slammed down on the empty chamber. At the instant of the click, he flinched and cringed, looking like he was trying to shrink inside himself. He stayed that way while the clock moved. I held my position.

Dot whispered, “Damnedest thang I ever seen.”

The bimbo never moved under the coverlet. You have to love people who follow orders.

After giving him a moment to thank his lucky star, I said, “You were lucky this time. Understand me though. If you bother me, anyone around me, or anyone I know, I’ll be back, and we’ll repeat this exercise with a fully loaded pistol, an automatic. You know I can do it, and rest assured,
I will
. Mr. Tomasco, if you give me the slightest reason, I’ll blow your nuts off with the first round, your dick with the second. After what I consider the right amount of time for you to consider your gender change, I’ll put a bullet through your gut and hang around to watch your life trickle away. Your only solace will be knowing that when I leave, you’ll be a dead man, never to suffer again. I can’t make it any simpler than that, and I doubt I need to. Do you understand?”

His head stayed down.

I nudged his chin upward with the barrel of the .32. “I hate to repeat myself. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“Not good enough. Say it, you bastard, or I start now.”

He refused to meet my eyes. “Y … yes. I understand.”

I stared, wishing I could inflict more pain without killing him. Nothing came to mind. I was out of my body, a person I’m not sure I would have recognized had I been able to observe. I turned away and paced the room, getting myself under control. When my turmoil settled a bit, I came back to him. “Since I suspect you need to go, get in the bathroom. Sit there until your butt goes to sleep.”

Tomasco stood and, walking with a staggered step, followed orders, his head down. The sheet stayed in the chair, but he showed no thoughts of his nakedness. He was a beaten man. The door clicked shut behind him. I foresaw no more problems with him.

“Let’s go,” I whispered to Dot. “Our job is finished for tonight.”

“Whatever you say, deary. I ain’t never messin’ with you agin.”

fifty

As Dot and I
exited the rear door of Tomasco’s mansion, I set the lock. It seemed like the right thing to do since he was in no condition to defend himself against an intruder. I suspected the next one out would be the prostitute. I hoped she’d secure the house as she disappeared into the night. Be a shame if a burglar broke in.

Bob waited for us on the beach. There was no sign of Bruce, Gerald, or Lodo. “Everybody split?” I asked.

“Yeah. Bruce said he figured you were even. He left his card though, and said if you need him again, just call. Of course, he’ll charge for the next service.”

I took the proffered card and studied it. “Langston Security Services, Inc. Pretty nebulous name for what he does. But general enough to get him business from all kinds of customers. Who knows? I may have to hire him down the road. At least I know he can do the job.”

“You’re kidding,” Bob said. “You wouldn’t really hire him.”

“Don’t you bet on it,” Dot said. “You didn’t see what I did. This is one badass woman. Her and Bruce are two of a kind.”

Bob gave me a look. “Do I want to know?”

“No,” I said. “But I think Tomasco’s out of the picture as a threat, at least for a while. He discovered there are things more important than harassing me.”

“Yeah, his dick,” Dot said and cackled.

Bob looked at her like he expected an explanation, so I jumped in. “It’s time to get moving. We’ve been lucky so far. A beach patrol could come along any moment. Besides, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” I started toward where we parked my car.

Behind me, I heard Dot whisper, “I’ll tell you later. Damnedest thang I ever seen.”

_____

I dropped Bob and Dot at Bobby’s Bar and continued to my place. While I preferred to curl up next to David, I decided that might not be my best destination. He needed his sleep, and I might not be inclined to let him have much. Besides, it was almost five and he’d have to get up soon to prepare for hospital rounds. However, that didn’t change the fact I was still hyper, and he knew how to relax me.

At home, I changed and crawled into bed, replaying the scene with Tomasco, wondering what I should have done differently—if anything. I figured he would take one of two courses after he recovered his equilibrium. He would leave me alone, believing I had the capacity to follow through with my threats. Or he could come after me. Either way, he shouldn’t bother Mom and David. If he wanted vengeance, it would be against me and me alone. That’s how I’d work it if I were in his shoes. I’d have to stay on my toes for the next few weeks—at least until I could turn the whole mess over to the police.

It was reassuring to know I wouldn’t have to face Bruce, Gerald, and Lodo again. After watching them operate, I was even more impressed than I’d been when they staged the kidnapping and hauled me off to Tomasco’s audio-visual room.

I forced my mind to clear, then allowed an image of David to slip in. That man had definitely gotten under my skin, and I wanted him where he could scratch long and often. Reaching across the bed, I dragged the extra pillow to me, hugging it as I wanted to hug him.

Sleep came. I dreamed I slept with a huge smile on my face.

_____

I woke with a start, sunlight streaming into the room. I lay there, every sense functioning at full capacity. What had awakened me? A noise? Listening as hard as I could, I heard … nothing. I glanced at the clock radio—seven thirty—then slipped out of bed. Imitating a church mouse, I rummaged in my purse for Bruce’s Beretta.

Door or window? Where should I start? I chose the door, and crept to it, shouldering in close alongside the opening, squinting with the effort to hear. No sound. No breathing except mine. I peeked into the hallway. Only the ticking of my clocks. They were a weakness of mine. Wall clocks, table clocks, watches. Even one grandfather clock. I liked them all and bought far too many. Moving the collection from Texas had doubled my expenses.

After a moment, I decided whatever woke me must have come from the outside, so I inched my way across the room. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. A few cars and kids on their way to school.

Grimacing, I accused myself of being paranoid. How long would I jump at imaginary situations? I took several deep breaths, then crawled into bed after stuffing the pistol under my pillow. Somewhere, I read that being paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. And, with the humiliation I’d heaped on Tomasco, it could well be true. Somehow though, I didn’t think he had recovered that quickly.

I lay there, my hearing attuned to any sound out of the ordinary. There were none. Only the ticks of the clocks and the expansion noises of a house heated by the Florida sun. Yet, something had awakened me—what?

Perhaps a dream. I searched my mind, trying to find a thread. Nothing appeared. Two-thirds of me begged to sleep, however the other one-third, the common sense third, said get out of bed. I had work to do.

Shoving the idea of sleep behind me, I puttered into the kitchen and made coffee. After it reached a satisfactory drip stage, I sneaked a cup and headed for the shower. With minimal thought, I chose my clothes for the day. Jeans, sneakers, T-shirt, and a large purse. The clothing because it blended in and the bag to carry the M9 Beretta. I wasn’t sure where Bruce obtained it, but I didn’t want to give it up just yet. When this was over, I’d look into getting one for myself—one I could register without fear of having a SWAT team descend on me.

By the time I dressed, the hands of my kitchen kitty clock had worked their way around to eight thirty. I figured it was late enough to call David, even though I might interrupt his hospital rounds. To heck with it. I needed him more than his patients did.

fifty-one

“David,” I said when
he answered the phone. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Are you okay? Why didn’t you call me when you got home? I was awake all night worrying. Darn you, Beth. You’re the most frustrating, most—”

“Music to my ears,” I said. “Is this your way of telling me I’m more than a one-night stand?”

“One—” He laughed. “Not only are you frustrating, you’re sneaky. However, if you need to hear it, yes, you’re far more than a one-night stand. Well, on my side anyway. I hope the scalpel cuts both ways.”

“Rest assured, it does. I missed you when I went to bed last night and when I woke up this morning. The bed seemed so big and lonely.” Throwing caution to the wind, I lunged through the opening he’d given me. “What about tonight? Will I see you? Am I invited for a sleepover?”

David hesitated. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. I want the answer to be yes, but I have a patient who is critical. I may spend the night at the hospital. If I miss you tonight though, I’ll make it up to you later—I promise.”

“Picture me disappointed, but understanding. Don’t expect this treatment every time though. I’m a demanding woman, and I’m demanding you.”

He laughed. “Don’t forget frustrating. Look, I’d love to talk to you all day, but I really need to run. Before I go though, did your trip to Boca last night work out the way you wanted?”

“Better than you can imagine.”

“Damn. There goes my beeper. I’ll call you later.”

“You’d better.” I wanted to blow a kiss into the phone. When your heart sings like a teenager’s, why not act like one? Before I could follow through, there was a click in my ear.

I sat for a moment, savoring his words. The future was indistinct as it always is, but I felt good about it. “David Rasmussen. What a wonderful name. Ms. Elizabeth Angeline Bowman-Rasmussen. Yeah, that has the right ring to it.”

My coffee cup was past empty so I floated to the pot for a refill. After plopping at my breakfast table with a fresh brew, I called Bob, but heard his canned voice mail message. At the beep, I said, “It’s Beth. Call me when you get a moment. Otherwise, I’m headed your way.” It didn’t concern me that he didn’t answer. I figured he was working his corner and didn’t want potential customers to know he carried a cell phone. Probably had it set on mute or, maybe, vibrate.

I checked the kitty clock and saw eight forty five—that was seven forty five in Wisconsin. Time to call Mom at my brother’s. She should be up by now. I sipped, then topped up the cup. I needed fortification.

“Dolores, it’s Beth.” Dolores was Harve’s wife and mother to his children, a fact Mom reminded me of far too often. We exchanged pleasantries, then I asked, “Is Mom available?”

A couple of ticks later, I heard, “Are you all right? I had a dream last night. When I called, you didn’t answer. Where were you?”

“Uh … Mom.” I thought fast and came up with the only response I thought would force her off the subject. “There are some things a daughter
does not
tell her mother. There are some nights when phone calls are not appreciated.”

There was a pause on the line before she said, “Is this the man you mentioned the other day? What’s he do for a living?”

That was my mom. Occupation first, then whether he was a serial killer or worse. “He’s a doctor.”

“General practitioner or specialist? Specialists make more, you know.”

“Mom. Be nice now. He’s a wonderful person who treats me like a princess.”

“Uh-huh. You have a ring yet?”

She had me. I had successfully switched the subject. Now I was stuck with it. If my mother had one interest beyond her premonitions about my getting hurt, it was marrying me off again. “No, we haven’t gotten that far. But I have hopes.”

“You just remember, men don’t buy what they can get for free.”

I laughed. “Free samples help close the deal. You told me that once.”

Now it was her laughter that came through the line. “Maybe I did, but I never remarried, did I? Probably gave away too many samples.”

“That wasn’t it,” I said. “You had plenty of offers. Even a couple of doctors.”

“Okay, I give up. You just be careful. Don’t let him take advantage of you.”

That was another thing about Mom. She had no confidence in my ability to manage my life. There was always something just around the corner ready to take advantage of me.

“Now, why did you call?” she said. “I’m sure it wasn’t to tell me you slept with some man last night. And, in spite of what a mother might dream, it wasn’t to tell me you’re married.”

If I hadn’t been in such a great mood, I might have said something I’d rue later, but my success the previous night still had me on a high. “You can start packing. You should be able to go home in a few days. Things are looking up here.”

“Good. I suspect Dolores would like the guest room back.”

That took us into a conversation about Harve and Dolores, and their wonderful kids. At every opportunity, Mom slipped in jabs about my having given her no grandchildren. It didn’t matter that she was my number one cheerleader when I told her I was dumping Sonny-the-Bunny. My lack of a husband and little ones to bounce on her lap trumped all. Most of my contributions to the conversation consisted of, “Yes, Mom.”

Twenty minutes later, I hung up after telling Dolores how much I appreciated her putting up with Mom. I was sure I heard a tone of relief in Dolores’ voice when I said Mom would be leaving soon.