Trifecta (87 page)

The water was the one place Michelle really couldn't
fight, but she had never thought of attacking a woman before.  All the women
had turned and were now facing her, and she couldn't make herself use karate
against them.  It was inconceivable.  She might hit some vulnerable soft spot. 
Like a breast.  It was as abhorrent to her as striking a defenseless animal.

Ginger seemed to sense that she would hesitate to fight
them physically for their prize.  Michelle gazed into her contemptuous brown eyes,
made wild with drugs.  No man could be as scary as Ginger was right now, Michelle
thought, as she watched Ginger pushing Heather into the sea.

Heather gave Michelle one frightened glance, before she
was pushed down into the waves, and that look mobilized Michelle, gave her the impetus
to do what was necessary.  Suzanne was chubby and vulnerable, holding one of Heather's
arms.  Michelle ran forward and kicked Suzanne hard, directly in the stomach.

Suzanne let go of Heather's arm, fell on hands and knees
into the sand, and started retching.  Michelle was a little surprised she didn't
get up and attack her.  But Suzanne was a woman.  Michelle was used to fighting
with men, who would take a lot of punishment and get up to fight again.

Michelle was surprised her own angry type of devil's glee
as she watched the dark girl come forward, both hands hooked into claws, with long
bright red talons.  She was strong, a sturdy woman who looked like a native of the
Islands with her long dark hair and chunky body, but she had not been trained to
fight.  Michelle, pretending the wrist reaching out to scratch her was a board,
gave a sharp chop with the side of her hand, which was hard from breaking boards. 
The dark woman sat down abruptly, all fight gone.  She started crying.  Michelle
thought she might have broken her arm.  But in that small space of time, Ginger
had pulled Heather further into the water.  Now she was repeatedly dunking Heather
under the waves.  The depth was almost over Heather's head.

Heather was fighting back, but being short, she really
didn't have any leverage.  She kept trying to lunge away and Ginger would knock
her down and push her head under the water.  Michelle glanced quickly at the
white haired girl, but she was obviously more intelligent than the others and
was not going anywhere near Michelle after seeing her disable two women in a
few brief seconds.

Michelle plunged into the waves after Heather and Ginger. 
She really couldn't fight effectively in the water.  She would have to get Ginger
angry at her, so she would come out.

"You.  Red haired bitch.  Get away from my friend,"
Michelle yelled.  "Trying to pick on someone smaller than you?  Come out and
fight me!"

Michelle thrashed around in the water, pushing at Ginger
and shouting insulting profanities.  She was rather amazed at her own behavior. 
And her vocabulary.  But she really couldn't think.  There wasn't time.  Ginger
kept pushing Heather under the water and Heather seemed to be getting tired with
the continued assaults.  Michelle could see her coughing up salt water.

"You damned cunt.  You witch," Michelle shrieked. 
"You stupid whore."

Ginger turned around, letting go of Heather, and started
after her.  Man, you really made her mad, Michelle though briefly, a little scared
herself at the murderous look in Ginger's eyes.  The woman was totally infuriated. 
In fact, she must be berserk on drugs.  Michelle had heard that some drugs increased
strength, and Ginger seemed to exude an incredible amount of energy as she gave
a mad, inarticulate scream and started after her.  Michelle, panicked herself, took
off toward the beach, trying to run through the sucking waves to get on dry land.

Suddenly there was a blast from a piercing whistle.

Good, the police were coming, Michelle thought.  Then she
wasn't so sure it was such a swell thing.  She had hurt two of the women quite badly. 
She didn't really have time to glance around the beach to see where the police were,
she just tried to get out of the water as fast as she could. 

Ginger was right behind her and grabbed hold of her arm
as they broke free of the water.  Now the white haired woman had closed in too,
believing Michelle would be no match for Ginger.

Michelle let Ginger have her arm and flicked her in the
neck with the side of her other hand, just hard enough for it to sting.  As Ginger
stepped back, one hand going to her neck, Michelle used everything she had to kick
Ginger in the knee.

Bare feet are not the greatest for kicking a hard bony
area, but Michelle thought she heard the knee cap make a snapping sound.  It was
enough. 

Ginger screamed furiously, in pain, and stopped.  She was
hopping on one leg, holding the other knee.  The white haired woman also stopped
her advance, turned around, and tried to push Heather, who was coming out of the
water, back under the waves, but she was pretty ineffective.  Michelle lunged back
in the water.  She was so mad at the little white-haired sneak she almost hit her. 
But she had broken an arm, a kneecap, and may have caused internal damage in three
of the women.  It was enough.

Michelle looked around to see if the police were coming,
but there was only a life guard using his piercing whistle over and over again about
thirty feet away.  She guessed everyone was relieved it wasn't the police.  She
had actually used karate on women and had hurt them badly.  And the women were obviously
drugged out of their minds.  They wouldn't want the police here any more than she
did.

Heather was slowly stumbling out of the water.  She looked
small and bedraggled, shocked and scared.  Michelle went over to her and helped
pull her up on the beach.  They were both breathing like they had run the race of
their lives.

"Lets get the hell out of here," Michelle said
urgently.  "I really hurt those women."

Heather coughed, spat some sea water out, and smiled at
Michelle.  "You were terrific.  I've got to learn karate."

N
akamura thought he was having a hallucination as he sat
in the lobby of Michelle's condominium, waiting for her to drive him to Henry's
party. 

Two bedraggled women, one short and one tall, practically
holding each other up, staggered in through the front door.  For a moment he didn't
recognize Michelle.  He could see the security officer gazing with astonishment
at the women, who had just exited a taxi, drenched with salt water, with sand in
their hair.

Michelle was almost lobster red on her exposed skin, which
was very exposed in a bathing suit and torn cut-off jeans.  She was limping.  But
of the two, the tiny blond looked more exhausted.  Then he realized it was Heather. 
Her long hair was wet, tangled and untidy.  Her blue eyes were red rimmed, as though
she had been crying.  Both appeared near collapse and were visibly shaking.  Neither
was wearing shoes.

Nakamura was worried about their obvious physical condition;
they looked like a tidal wave had crashed over them, but he tried to cover up his
consternation as he walked over,  "Ready to party?"

Michelle glanced at him.  Although the words were frivolous,
his face was concerned.  She was almost too tired to smile.  "Give me a minute,"
she said, brushing wet clumps of hair out of her face.

Heather looked at her seriously,  "More than a minute
might be required." 

Michelle wanted to act dignified in front of her boss,
but she was just too tired to make the effort.  It was impossible anyway, in her
disheveled condition.  "Nakamura, could you pay the cab driver?  He didn't
want to take us home.  We lost our stuff."

"Certainly."  Stuff meant purses and money, also
shoes, Nakamura thought as he walked out the door.

"He sure looks spiffy," Heather murmured, watching
him go outside where the taxi was still running.  Nakamura was causally dressed
in jeans and a sports shirt, but he had long legs and looked sophisticated in a
macho way that was not apparent in his usual suits.  "If I knew he was taking
you, I wouldn't have agreed to go."

"Don't be silly.  And don't make any cracks,"
Michelle warned, trying to straighten up on her injured foot and finger comb her
hair.  The foot she used to kick Ginger was throbbing painfully whenever she put
weight on it.  Ginger must have hit her and connected a few times while they were
in the water, although she couldn't remember it and had not felt anything at the
time.  Actually she couldn't find a spot that didn't hurt.  She was shaking from
the release of excess adrenaline from the fight on the beach, and also paying for
the wonderful day in the sun with a painful sunburn to top everything else.  Her
arms ached and she looked down at her tattered shorts.  She was dripping on the
elegant lobby carpet.

Several couples, dressed up for a night on the town, came
into the building and looked at the two women sideways, obviously trying not to
stare.  They detoured them carefully, as though they were diseased instead of merely
drenched, sandy and scruffy.

Nakamura walked back to them.

"I'll pay you back," Michelle said.  "I
have to take a shower.  Heather's coming with us."

Nakamura nodded and they rode the elevator in silence. 
The few people in the elevator with them were giving them lots of room.

Finally they reached Michelle's door.

"Wait a minute.  I have to talk to Lucifer." 
Michelle went into her apartment and closed the door, leaving Nakamura and Heather
in the hallway.

"What the hell happened?" Nakamura asked Heather.

"Michelle rescued me from some people who were trying
to drown me.  They would have killed me, I'm sure of it."

The door opened and Michelle stood there, holding Lucifer. 
"I think its safe for you to come in now."

The tiny cat was peacefully licking her chin.  One paw
gently patted her cheek.

Nakamura walked in, staring at the cat.  Heather followed
behind him, folding up exhausted on the floor, leaning against the couch.  "I
need a very stiff drink."  Then she glanced at Michelle and said quickly, "Oh,
sorry.  I still feel cold."

"Looks like you both could use one," Nakamura
said, still staring at the cat, who seemed to be ignoring both he and Heather.

"I don't have anything here to drink,"  Michelle
said.  She thought Nakamura looked at her oddly, but she might have been imagining
it.

"See, Michelle can't drink liquor.  It makes her ill. 
Something to do with her stomach..." Heather lied, trailing off rather lamely. 

"Tell me what happened on the beach," Nakamura
said.

Heather started in while Michelle went into the kitchen
to make coffee.  "Well, these four women were stoned out of their minds, drugged
up something awful," Heather began.  She told the story about how they had
grabbed her and pulled her down the beach and finally into the water. 

Then Heather went off to her own apartment to shower and
dress for the party.  When she came back a few minutes later, she was astounded
to see Nakamura slathering some homemade sunburn concoction on Michelle that he
had whipped up in her kitchen while she was taking a shower.

Michelle was protesting, saying that she could do it and
he was shaking his head, telling her it would sting and he knew she couldn't do
it properly.  Heather stood staring at them in surprise.

Michelle had changed into a sundress that exposed her sunburned
back, which was on the edge of blistering.  Nakamura was insisting she couldn't
possibly reach the burn there.  He pulled back her long hair, still damp from the
shower and handed it to her over her shoulder.  Heather watched in amazement as
Michelle agreed with him, commenting that even moving her arms hurt.

Heather watched a man actually touch Michelle.  It was
amazing.  A miracle.  Michelle was acting like it was the most natural thing in
the world.  Heather felt like doing a little tap dance, she was so happy to see
Michelle relaxing in the presence of a male.  She had known that Nakamura was
an unusual man, but wished now that she hadn't pushed Michelle in his direction
so hard that morning.  She wanted Michelle to think about having a relationship
with someone nice, not someone handsome and treacherous who would break her
heart, like she was sure Omar would do.

As Michelle was slathered with some liquid that stung terribly
for a moment and then soothed the burn, she was thinking that she had almost had
an affair with a man who had schemed to kill her best friend.  The women on the
beach were certainly witches; Omar's witches.  He was the person behind the attack
on Heather.  She was sure now.  His newest witch, Suzanne, had been in her apartment
just the night before and suddenly she was an entirely different character, aiding
the other women, trying to kill Heather. 

Michelle had to figure out how to neutralize Omar so he
wouldn't harm Heather, but she couldn't decide how to confront him.  She thought
back to the night before when she tried to have sex with him.  The picture clashed
now with what she knew.  Why would he want to kill Heather? 

Before they left for the party, Michelle went to the kitchen
to feed Lucifer.  She had used up all the scraps of liver that morning for his breakfast. 
Now she had to face the unpleasant task of chopping up the bloody stuff that Suzanne
had brought to her yesterday.  The heart and liver.

She left Nakamura and Heather in the living room.  Heather
was really exaggerating about the fight on the beach anyway, making her sound like
a female Bruce Lee.  It was embarrassing.  Michelle called for Lucifer. 

She got out the plastic bowl and a knife and slid the organs
onto a plate.  Lucifer smelled an enticing aroma and started screaming at the top
of his lungs, very annoyingly.  He jumped up on the counter as she started cutting
up the liver.

"Get off the counter," Michelle said.  She didn't
raise her voice, just wanted to see if he understood her. 

To Michelle's surprise, Lucifer immediately jumped to the
floor, but Nakamura had heard the cat yowling and ran into the kitchen. 

"Are you all right!" Nakamura asked.

"Yes.  Lucifer's hungry."

"Oh."  Nakamura walked over and looked at the
meat on the plate.  "What's that?"

"His owner gave me special food," Michelle said,
pausing for a moment before beginning to cut up the liver again into thin slices.

"Stop that!  Get away from those things."

Michelle turned around, holding up the bloody knife, surprised
that Nakamura was yelling.

Nakamura pushed Michelle to the side gently and stood looking
down at the plate for a long time.  "Do you know what this is?"

"Chicken liver, I guess," Michelle answered.

Nakamura was shaking his head in disbelief.  "No,
Michelle.  It's not chicken."

"It must be beef... No!"  Michelle shook her
head and backed away.  A horrible thought had popped into her mind.

Nakamura picked up the dish and slid the organs back into
the plastic container.  He put it in the refrigerator and then turned around.  Michelle
had never noticed that his skin was a bronze color before, but now she did.  He
had turned white.

"Those organs will have to go to a forensic scientist. 
Or a coroner.  We'd better call the police," Nakamura said.

"How'd you know?"

Nakamura smiled, "Long ago I had ambitions of becoming
a doctor, like my father.  I worked in a medical laboratory and took anatomy classes,
which included dissecting several different types of animals.  I also observed my
father, who is a surgeon, during operations.  I may be wrong about what's in that
container.  But it really looked like a human heart to me.  Can I use your phone?"

Michelle nodded and watched him dial 911. 

"Wash your hands," Nakamura said.  "Then
pour peroxide over them.  You can never tell if blood is contaminated."

The thing going around in Michelle's mind as she washed
her hands, was that she distinctly remembered Suzanne saying that Omar had told
her to cut up the organs before she took them to Michelle.  But Suzanne couldn't
do it because she didn't have a knife in her hotel room.

"We ought to tell the police about the attack on Heather,
when they come," Nakamura said when he hung up.  "Those women sound dangerous."

"I know.  They are.  But Heather doesn't want to press
charges.  She told me specifically not to call the police."

"This isn't a prank.  There was also that strange
incident when she couldn't remember taking sleeping pills."

"Heather's trying to protect me.  I did break one
woman's arm.  And I really messed up Ginger's knee.  They could say I attacked them. 
They have physical injuries to prove it."

"You said Ginger.  Do you know these women?" 

Michelle nodded, but didn't want to tell him about Omar
and his witches.  It was too fantastic a story and she didn't think he would believe
her. 

The burning question was where Omar had obtained the organs,
if they really were human.  Labs don't give them out.  When they harvest human organs,
each one is a valuable commodity used to sustain life.  So where did Omar get them? 
The awful thought, since they were obviously fresh, was that he was the person who
was committing rape and murder.  The man the police had dubbed 'The Heartbreaker'
because the dead woman had been found with their hearts removed from their bodies.

The thought left Michelle breathless.  She thought she
might faint right here on her kitchen floor.  In her own refrigerator might be the
heart of the woman who had lived above her.

Heather broke her thoughts when she peeked into the kitchen
to see what was taking so long.  Michelle was standing, holding a bloody knife and
Nakamura was shaking his head as he passed her out of the kitchen to wait for the
police.  Lucifer had started yowling again.

"What's going on?" Heather asked.  "We're
already late for the party."

Michelle nodded and told Heather that Nakamura thought
Lucifer's special food was a human heart and liver.

"Oh, gross," Heather said, her eyes big as saucers.

Michelle reached up into the cupboard for a can of cat
food.  She put it in a bowl and placed it on the floor.  Lucifer looked at her and
started to yowl.  This time it was a protest and he sounded angry.

"Eat your dinner," Michelle said very softly.

Lucifer looked down at his food for a minute, tail twitching,
then he started eating.  They stared at the cat until he finished the entire bowl.

"You just told him to eat it, and he did?" Heather
said.

"This is a special cat.  Omar's cat."

 Heather sighed.  "A bewitched cat who eats human
organs."

"Yes.  And Omar probably told his 'sisters' to attack
you.  The person who gave me Lucifer's food was Suzanne.  The big curly haired girl
on the beach tonight.  The one I kicked in the stomach."

"They were the ones behaving like animals," Heather
said, indignantly.  "No, worse.  Animals don't attack, except for food."

"Or to perform their master's wishes."