Killertrust (10 page)

Randolph eased into the bedroom
,
balancing a small tray with fresh coffee and wheat toast. He set it down
carefully on Rhetta’s nightstand just as she woke up.

“How’re you feeling?” he
asked, fluffing the pillows behind her so she could sit up.

“Kinda like I got hit with a
baseball bat.” Rhetta fingered the small bandage on the back of her head that
covered the stitches and the shaved spot around them as she scooted upright,
balancing against the pillows.

After arriving at the
hospital, they spent over three hours in the emergency room getting X-rays and
a CAT scan, and then waiting for a radiologist to read them, and a staff
physician to clean and stitch the wound. They hadn’t made it home until after
two.

“What time is it?” Rhetta
twisted to peer at the clock.

Randolph caressed his wife’s
cheek. “It’s nine-thirty, but don’t worry about what time it is. It’s Saturday
and you don’t have to go anywhere.”

Relieved, Rhetta lay back
against the pillow.

“Oh, great.” Rhetta squeezed
her eyes shut. “It’s the Saturday before Christmas. Yikes. I had shopping left
to do, and stuff to get ready for the open house,” Rhetta lamented. She began
to sit up.

“Let’s cancel the open house.
I don’t know what other shopping you need to do, but whatever it is, it can
wait until after Christmas. Besides, everything will be on sale the day after
Christmas.” He kissed her gently. “Don’t worry about it. Our friends will
certainly understand.”

She reached for her coffee.
“I really don’t feel all that bad, Randolph. Can’t we at least have the open
house? I was so looking forward to seeing everyone. That’s three days away.
I’ll be up to it.” She set her coffee down, and slid the covers back. She
searched the floor with her feet until she found her slippers. “That coffee
went right through me, so look out, I’m heading for the bathroom.” With that,
Randolph helped her to her feet. She listed to the left, but managed the rest
of the way unassisted.

As she made her way back,
Randolph said, “If you feel better and still want to do this, I bet Mrs. Koblyk
would probably love to help hostess the open house. She planned to bring some
of her famous baked goods anyway. If you’re better tomorrow, I’ll talk to her.”
He kissed Rhetta, then helped her back into bed. “But not until tomorrow, when
we see how you’re getting along. If you’re still walking like a drunken sailor,
then I’ll cancel.” He picked up the coffee cup. “You want a refill?”

“Please,” she said, smiling.
“Mrs. Koblyk would be perfect.”

Rhetta began practicing
walking straight as soon as Randolph left the room.

The phone startled her, but
she ignored its insistent ring. She knew better than to hurry to answer it. She
didn’t need to fall. Randolph could answer it. It stopped, but a minute later,
it began again and continued belligerently until she finally reached it. When
she picked it up, she heard only the steady hum of a dial tone.

Randolph returned just as she
set the phone down. “Who was that?” He handed her an oversized mug of steaming
coffee, which she accepted gratefully.

“There was no one on the
line. Probably a sales call or, worse, a political call.” She made a face as
she reached for her toast.

Randolph said, “By the way,
Woody and Jenn brought Streak home last night, so you don’t have to worry about
that.”

Crap. She had forgotten all
about her vehicle!

He went on. “I’m going to
feed the cats, then head to the studio. I have my cell,” Randolph said, as he
waved it at her. “Call me if you need me. That way you can practice walking and
I won’t disturb you.” He grinned, but his smile faded. “Your pistol is in your
nightstand. I may have to run to Albertson’s Supplies for some odorless paint
thinner, but I won’t be over ten minutes. Make sure you can get to your pistol.
I’m locking the house when I leave.”

Rhetta stretched across the
bed to the drawer in the nightstand and verified her weapon was at the ready.

After hoofing it around the
bedroom until she could navigate without listing, falling or getting dizzy,
Rhetta headed for the shower.

After rummaging through her
travel bag, she produced a shower cap that she had scored from a hotel room
when they were on vacation a couple of years ago. She normally washed her hair
with every shower, and as short as her hair was, it was usually dry by the time
she finished dressing. A little gel and a blow dryer was all she ever needed.

She eased the plastic cap
gently over her head. The doctor had warned her not to get the stitched area
wet. Turning the water on as hot as she dared, she pointed the nozzle away from
raining directly down on her, and then stepped cautiously into the shower. Now
would not be a good time to fall.

After showering long enough
to deplete the hot water, Rhetta stepped out feeling almost human again. She
picked her favorite giant white towel to dry off with, then donned a dark blue
jogging suit. She returned to the bathroom mirror to study the skid marks on
her face, and apply some antibiotic ointment. The phone began to ring. She
ignored it, hoping that Randolph would hear it in the studio and answer. After
six rings, it quit. Within seconds, it began again. She padded out of the
bathroom and to the desk in the corner of the bedroom, the closest phone to the
bathroom.

“Yes?” she said abruptly,
unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. If it turned out to be a sales
call, she’d give someone a giant piece of what little was left of her mind.
None of her friends or business contacts ever called her on her home number.
She preferred using her cell, so she was sure this was not a call she should
have even answered. Their home number was on the “No Call List.” She looked
forward to blasting whoever it was.

“Rhetta, I need you to meet
me. Today.” His voice still sounded like it was gurgling through a barrel of
water. Her immediate urge was to hang up. Instead, she said simply, “No.”

A raspy cough finally broke
the silence. “You must. This is critical. I’ll explain everything.”

“Then let’s hear it.”

“Not on the phone. Meet me
behind the Tri-County Impound Yard on Highway 177. Can you be there in two
hours?”

“Not just no, but hell no! I
was attacked and robbed last night, my skull took a pretty good smack and I was
thrown into a Dumpster the size of a Burlington Northern rail car. I’m not
driving anywhere today, especially not to meet you.”

The line went quiet except
for a few gurgling sounds. Getting angry, Rhetta spouted, “Did you hear me?”
When she didn’t hear an answer, she reached over to slam the phone down. Frank
began speaking again before she disconnected.

“My God, Rhetta. That was no
robbery. Someone’s after you. Someone who thinks you know what I’m going to
tell you, and for that he’ll kill you. You have to be very careful. You can’t
come alone. Bring your husband with you. And a gun. I’m sure you have one.”

Icicles of fear tickled her
spine. “Why can’t you tell me on the phone? I had our lines checked, and they
aren’t tapped.”

“I don’t trust conventional
methods of checking lines, Rhetta. There’s so much you don’t understand. Meet
me and I’ll explain it all to you. You deserve to know all of it. The impound
yard sits on high open bluffs. You have to find a way to get there. I’ll be
waiting. If anyone follows you, I’ll be able to spot them, and I won’t show
myself. Please be very, very careful. And don’t forget. Bring your weapon.” He
disconnected.

Rhetta flung the phone across
the room.

Her heart thudded against her
ribs in fear, while at the same time anger sliced through her like a meat
cleaver through butter. She couldn’t believe she’d just tossed her new
phone-cum-clock radio across the room.

Damn
him anyway! What does he mean that someone tried to kill me? It was a snatch
and grab, according to the police. What the hell is so mysterious?
I don’t want to meet him. I
won’t go!

She retrieved the phone and slapped
away a tear.
Stop it.
Put the phone back and think about what you’re going to do
.
You know you want to go if for
no other reason than to get to the bottom of this
.

She plopped down on the side of the
bed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Ow,” she yelped. She’d unthinkingly
run her hand over her tender spot.

She went to the bathroom,
peered at her reflection and checked out her head.
Au naturel
would have to be her
coiffure du
jour.
She wasn’t going to blow dry or
spike her hair today. She still bore skid marks that were now bruising a nice
purple shade where she’d greeted the concrete face-down. She splashed cool
water on her face, toweled it gently, and then applied a light dab of makeup.

She thought about what her
father had said as she donned a pair of freshly-ironed jeans and a tan sweater.
What exactly did he have to tell her that was so critical that she had to meet
him in person? Did she dare meet him? She pulled a few strands of hair this way
and that to cover the circle of stitches, but her hair was too short. She gave
up and pulled a loose sock hat on her head instead. She decided she had to go.
She’d persuade Randolph to take her.

Downstairs, she called out to
Randolph. He didn’t answer. He was probably in his studio. She spied her iPhone
in its charger on the kitchen counter and called him. The call went to voice
mail. Tossing her phone into her purse, she decided she could drive down to the
barn, find him, and persuade him in person. As she began backing Streak out of
the garage, a blue, seventies-model Chevy C-10 pickup truck roared up behind
her, blocking her exit. A petite figure in green coveralls wearing a Camaro cap
bounced out and jogged to her. Ricky clasped Rhetta fiercely.

Ricky’s cap tipped back and
several tendrils of red hair escaped, curling down the side of her small oval
face. Her green eyes glittered. “I was so upset when I heard. Are you all
right?” She released her hug and held Rhetta out at arm’s length, scrutinizing
her up and down.

“Just a little smack on the
head,” Rhetta said, turning around, and pulling up the sock hat to display the
results of her misadventure.

“Ow, that looks painful,”
Ricky said as Rhetta carefully repositioned the sock hat.

“Randolph called and told me
what happened. I was under a car, but I showered and came right over. Can I do
anything for you?” She narrowed her eyes as she took in the open garage door and
Streak idling. “Wait a second, just exactly what were you doing? Were you going
somewhere?” She put a hand on her hip and tapped her foot.

“I was only going down to the
barn to get Randolph to see if he would drive me to the Tri-County Impound
lot.”

“To the impound lot? What
for?”

“It’s a long story. Back your
truck up over there.” Rhetta pointed to the circular turn around. “Come with
me. I’ll explain.”

Ricky bounded over to her
truck and backed it to the designated spot. She scurried into the passenger
seat of the Trailblazer. “Are you supposed to be driving?” Rhetta shook her
head. “Then I’ll drive.” Rhetta put Streak in park and the two women traded
places. Rhetta reached over and turned down the oldies she had blaring out of
the Bose sound system.

Ricky wheeled Streak out of
the garage and veered toward the barn and Randolph’s studio while Rhetta filled
her in about the most recent phone call as well as the robbery and attack.

“I can’t believe you got
tossed into a nasty Dumpster.” Ricky made a face. “I’m sure glad you’re okay.”
A smile teased her lips. “I have to ask, Miss Fashionista, what did you do with
the clothes you had on?”

Rhetta wrinkled her nose.
“The slacks are toast. There’s a hole in the knee from where I must have fallen
because I have a bruise on my knee that matches the location of the hole.”
Rhetta touched her knee gingerly. “I tossed the pants into the trash. I’ll take
the blazer to Lenderman’s Cleaners. I hate to throw it away. It’s one of my
favorites.” She sighed, and shook her head sadly. “I’m not sure anyone can ever
get the smell out, but if anyone can, it would be Lenderman’s.”

Ricky nodded. “Your face is
pretty messed up too.”

Rhetta touched her bruises.
“Yeah, where I face-skidded on the sidewalk.” She peered in the mirror on her
visor. “I guess I don’t have on enough makeup. I remember having my purse, and
I think it broke the fall, or I might look worse. Of course my purse was gone
by the time I woke up in the Dumpster.”

“I knew you carried that
ginormous purse for some reason! It finally got put to good use.” Ricky smiled
as they reached the barn. Pointing to the purse Rhetta now carried, she added,
“I figure you wouldn’t miss one purse anyway. You have several more.”

“True, but it’s my wallet
that I’m upset about. Randolph said he would notify all the credit card
companies to stop the accounts. What a pain.”

They pulled around to the
studio. Randolph’s truck was gone.

Rhetta fished in her purse
for her cell phone. Before she could dial, she spotted a voice mail from his number.
“I didn’t even hear this thing ring,” she groused, tapping on the message. “Our
service out here is horrible.”

A tinny version of Randolph’s
voice said, “Since you’re not answering, I guess you’re taking a nap. I’m out
of thinner, so I’m going to get some. Be right back. Keep the doors locked.
Call me if you need me, okay? Love you. And, Rhetta? Get some rest.”

Rhetta dialed his cell
number. The call went to voice mail. “Sweets, Ricky is here and is taking me to
Tri-County Impound. Call me and I’ll explain.”

Ricky threw up her hands. “I
guess this means I’m taking you to Tri-County Impound.”