Killer Cousins (25 page)

“You never used condoms?”

“Sure, I keep a stash. But we went along with him that day. We were laughing about all the different kinds and sizes they come in.”

I tried to smile. Didn’t succeed. Especially when the ice-blue chair she was sitting on blended with the blue of the coffee table, and I stared at the sofa I sat on. Putrid blue. My stomach protested.

“What about Ish?” I needed to ask. “Did he ever mention that name?”

“Ish Muller? Sure, he and Father are good friends.”

“They are?” Blue walls and furniture swallowed me. “I need to go.”

Lark stood, her look sincere. “He really is a fine person.”

I rushed out the door. I dashed to the end of the porch and bent over. Dry heaves made my eyes cry. I fought to shove away the image of Trottier’s blue shirt engulfing me.

I straightened, taking big gulps of air. Assured that I wouldn’t throw up, I slid into my car. I was in no condition to question anyone else. I drove to Stevie’s house, hoping she wouldn’t be home yet.

* * *

Stevie stood in the kitchen. I would have preferred quiet, without the need to talk.

“You look awful,” she said when I stumbled in.

“You look gorgeous,” I told her, noticing her drab tan dress.

“Are you sick?”

“No.” I leaned on the broken stove, then pulled my hand off it. “What kind of stove do you want?”

She squinted at me.

“Okay, I broke it. I’ll get you another one. What kind do you want? Does it matter?”

“
It
is the mouth of the home. Does it matter!” She threw her hands out. Stomped off. Slammed a door.

The mouth of a home. What the hell?

I peered down the hall. The candle-room door was shut. Had she gone in there to meditate? Or call on bad spirits to attack me while I slept?

Cealie, Cealie,
I thought, shaking my head.
You don’t believe in psychic foolishness, yet you keep coming up with thoughts that it might work.

Exhausted, I dragged myself to my bedroom. I shut and locked the door, threw myself across the made bed, and slept.

* * *

Knocking came from my door.

“Cealie,” my cousin said, “if you’re sleeping, it’s time to get up.”

I burrowed my head deeper into the pillow.

She rapped on my door. “Cealie, get up. If you’re sick, I’ll bring you to a doctor, but get up. You won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

I was sure I looked as exhausted as Lark had when she’d opened the door to the priest’s house. I opened mine.

“Ugh,” Stevie said. “You look bad.”

I fought the retort pushing across my tongue only because I had to rush to the bathroom. Gil crossed my mind as I wondered how he’d made it to the bathroom at his restaurant. I would call him. But maybe, like me, he needed a long nap this afternoon. I’d check with him later.

“Food’s ready,” Stevie called soon afterward, hearing me open the bathroom door.

I entered the kitchen, and enticing aromas greeted me. “What’ll we have?”

“Pizza. And special dessert, blueberry pie.”

More blue?

“I’m not hungry.” I rushed out of the kitchen before I had to look at the pie.

Moments later, Stevie came to my room. I sat in a stuffed chair, taking deep breaths and then closing my eyes and sending my thoughts off.

“Were you sleeping again?” she asked.

“No, trying to meditate.”

“Great. Was it working?”

“I don’t know. I was imagining myself on a beach.”

She nodded. “Good start. Now feel the ocean breezes across your skin. Listen to the waves rolling in. Immerse yourself in this scene.”

“I did.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“After all that, I pictured myself on a beach towel in a bathing suit. And my gosh, do you know how much weight I need to lose?”

“What?”

“I’ve been sitting here, trying to hold in my stomach. I’ve imagined the huge weights I’d need to use to tone my arms. And my legs are so pathetic. Cellulite’s striking my behind.”

She actually looked amazed. “You could see all of that in your mind’s eye? Maybe
you’re
the one in the family with extra-psychic abilities.”

“No way. I just know my body’s gone to pot.” I stood up.

“You look great, Cealie.”

I peered at my stomach, which had disgustingly gotten too big to hold in without great effort. And I looked at Stevie’s face.

Her smile looked genuine. Sincere.

I was flattered. “I need to shed some pounds,” I said demurely. “And I’ve got to tone my arms and legs. Probably do some exercises that are supposed to tighten the skin on the neck.”

She turned away, no longer interested. I hadn’t even mentioned my mustache.

Stevie, I noted in her overlarge long dress, could probably stand to do all those exercises and much more to regain any semblance of her previous body size.

But who was I to analyze another person’s changed shape and weight?

“As long as I have to stay here, maybe I can exercise,” I said, following her out my room. “You go to a gym, right?” I groaned inwardly, not believing I’d asked that. We were supposed to work out earlier this week, but problems had stopped us.

“Okay, Cuz, I get the message. I’m too fat. I’ll start doing something about it.”

“No, you’re not fat. I’m fat. Look, this is fat.” I poked out my stomach. Made my jaw slacken.

“You’re right. You need to lose weight.”

I stared at her as she walked away from me. What did she mean? Had I become
that
overweight?

“I’ve got a meeting,” she said, heading for the kitchen. “You can come if you want.”

“Not with those stop-smoking people? You said you wouldn’t go around them anymore.”

“I know, but I need them.”

“One of them might try to kill you.”

She inhaled. Exhaled. “So would a cigarette. And I sure want a lot of them.”

“Are you taking those pills Dr. Wallo gave you?”

She nodded, face tense.

“Good, but don’t go to the meeting. You and I will exercise and meditate together, and you’ll get rid of that urge. You’ll see.” I smiled wide.

“We’ll start tonight, two a.m. But right now, I’m going to that meeting.”

“You can’t.” I clutched her arm.

She swung it away from me. Stevie went through the doorway to her garage. I rushed behind. Jumped in her car and buckled my seatbelt. Watched the dark mountainside without seeing anything while she drove. She did say two a.m., didn’t she?

“Why did you groan?” she asked.

I shook my head. Didn’t need to give up on our exercise plan so soon.

Chapter 24

Only a handful of cars were parked near the building where Stevie’s group met. She left her car with theirs. My hair blew in a warm breeze while she and I walked on the faintly lit sidewalk between shrubs toward the meeting hall. I recalled a smoke smell. The glowing tip of a cigarette.

“I’ll come in there in a minute,” I told Stevie.

She made a face and went inside, possibly thinking I needed to pass gas.

I elbowed through the thick shrubs that someone had hidden between when we met here, the same day Pierce Trottier lost his life.

Behind tall shrubs, I stood in almost total darkness. A faint bit of light reached back here from a pole light near the sidewalk. I kept totally still. No smoke smell lingered from anyone who might have just been outside. Could a person here have seen who was up there on the sidewalk?

I couldn’t. I shifted around, poking my head from one tiny space to another one. I discovered a spot where I could see, and probably no one out there could see me.

A bug flitted near my face. I swatted it, finding I didn’t want to make too much noise or too large a motion. Maybe someone else from The Quitters Group would arrive, someone who could be a killer.

I held my breath. Didn’t want to make leaves rustle.

Sound came of a car moving near. I ducked. Stooped. Someone had smoked back here that night. Maybe put out a cigarette?

I studied the small area I could see and ran my hand across the ground, shoving my fingers as far as I could reach. I felt something soft—a smashed cigarette butt. I slipped it into my purse and felt around for another one.

A car door slammed. Clicking heels approached on the sidewalk.

Before the woman could come near and see me jumping out from behind bushes, I shoved out of my hiding space. I’d just reached the sidewalk when she walked near. The wind blew up her brassy red hair. Here, under the lamppost, I spied her black roots.

“Hey, uh…” she said, trying to place me.

“Cealie Gunther. I came to visit you.” I put out my hand to shake hers. “Hi, Jenna.”

Her frown at my palm made me notice the dirt on it. “Sorry,” I said, and wiped my hands on my slacks. We walked inside the building.

“How’s your story coming along?” she asked.

“Great.”

I’d faked writing a story about her and taken her picture. She was the one who hadn’t quit that first day. She’d walked out of the meeting and hidden behind those shrubs to smoke. Did I have a butt she’d smashed out?

We didn’t have time for more conversation before reaching the room with the others. I did feel braver having her walk in there with me. I doubted that many in that room loved me.

Stevie sat in the same chair as before. Ish stood in front of her. As I entered, he turned away. Kern Parfait sat, his shoes shiny, not one blade of grass on them or his cuffs. He squeezed his face into a prune-like expression, keeping his stare aimed at me. Father Paul Edward wasn’t there. I took an empty chair beside Stevie.

Something wasn’t right with this group. One of them, especially, hadn’t given me answers that made me satisfied.

A poster on a tripod was entitled “Ten Steps to Staying Quit.” Ish passed out papers to everyone except me. Stevie’s paper had the same heading as the poster.

“Tonight we learn how to
stay
quit,” Ish told the group. “You’ve all been through the really hard part of quitting smoking. Now you’
ll find out what methods you might use to keep from ever smoking again.”

“I’ve done number one on the page,” Stevie said. “I take deep breaths and hold them. Then count backwards.”

“Is that really relaxing?” Jenna asked, and Stevie nodded.

Ish eyed me. “What are you doing?” he asked, annoyed.

“Inhaling. Holding my breath and exhaling.”

“But you never smoked, right?”

“Only twice at the graveyard, but I choked.” I grinned at him.

He faced the others. “This number two is an excellent thing to do, especially now that it’s late springtime. Exercise. Any form will do. Running, jogging, swimming. If you get tense, you can walk outside and take a brisk stroll around a block or two.”

I pretended to hold something to my mouth between my fingers. I took a deep breath and then puffed my cheeks and blew.

Ish stared. “Would you stop pretending you’re smoking?”

“I’m not. I’m sucking on a straw. Remind you of anyone?”

A gasp came from Stevie. A sharp inhale from Kern.

“I’m not trying to be rude or defame anyone’s memory,” I said. “I just think somebody needs to be remembered here.”

“That’s a good point,” Jenna said. “Let’s all say a silent prayer for our friend, Fawn.”

I lowered my head. Didn’t close my eyes. I wanted to see what others were doing.

Stevie crossed herself. The men didn’t even lower their heads.

“Now,” Ish said, “let’s move on to point three.”

How discouraging. How little concern for the dead woman I’d thought might have become their friend.

I needed to find out more.

I made my hand form a tight circle and brought it to my lips. I inhaled hard, sucking in my stomach. Then moved my hand aside, puffed my cheeks, and blew.

Ish’s cheeks reddened. “Could you be less distracting while sucking your pretend straw?”

With my hand making a circle, I brought it to my lips. Shoved my chest way out while I inhaled. I blew exceptionally hard into my hand.

“Cealie!” my cousin said, but I ignored her.

Ish stomped to right in front of me. “So what in the hell was that?”

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s not a balloon.” I waited a second while veins protruded in his neck. “I’m wondering what it’s like to blow up a really big doll. One that I could hang from something. Like a rafter.”

Kern let out a sound of disgust. He pushed back in his chair.

Jenna looked at me curiously.

Ish’s vision appeared to go inside himself. He seemed to make a decision. Looked at me.

“I don’t know that it’s any of your business, but maybe I can get you to shut up. Father Paul Edward and I are good friends. We have been for a number of years.”

“Really?” I said. “Did you go to school together?”

“Yes, the seminary. But I decided it wasn’t for me.”

I couldn’t envision this man as a priest.

“We used to play pranks on each other,” Ish said. “Paul was coming over for a barbecue, but somebody needed him at the last minute, so he couldn’t come.”

I pictured four people who supposedly often needed the priest. Pretty people.

“So you got a doll instead of him?” I asked, even more confused.

“He’d been telling me I was too lonesome. That a man shouldn’t stay by himself.”

“So that was your girlfriend we saw?” I said with disgust and pushed to my feet.

“No. That was
me
.” He swung away and walked beyond the poster. “I’m a miserable, lonely man, but no, I don’t stoop to dating a woman you’d buy in a plastic bag. It was supposed to be me.” He poked his chest with his finger. “I couldn’t find a male doll, although I’m sure they exist. And I wasn’t trying to kill it. I’d dressed it like a man and wasn’t trying to hang it. I was only trying to make it stay upright.”

I put my hand up to stop him. He looked too sad, too miserable standing there, confessing to me and this group. “That’s okay,” I said. “You don’t need to go on.”

“Yes, I do.” He aimed his finger at my face. “You’re the one who blamed me. Now I want you to know. I want all of you to know what a pathetic creature I am.”