Chapter Seventeen
Lou suggested I take one of the paper’s delivery vans. My first instinct was to refuse – he’d already done too much for me – but when he pointed out the vehicle would be less conspicuous in his driveway than my car, I agreed.
From the paper, I drove straight to Amy’s, circling the block a few times searching for suspicious cars. I didn’t know what a suspicious car looked like but I was certain I’d recognize one when I saw it.
After the quiet and almost empty block satisfied me, I pulled into Marie’s driveway behind my car and gazed up at Amy’s apartment. Nothing appeared out of place. Everything in the apartment seemed as I’d left it. The window blinds were still closed. That went for the windows, as well. But it didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone in the apartment waiting for me.
At the thought of coming face to face with the someone who wanted me dead, my legs turned elastic and my hands trembled. I told myself to get a grip and grabbed the can of pepper spray from my bag and hopped from the van. I never had the opportunity to test the effectiveness of the spray and had to trust the police officer who advised the spray could reach up to a distance of thirty feet and temporarily blinds. The tip might save my life.
Marie came out of the house, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “I wondered who that was,” she said. “Nice ride.”
I smiled at Amy’s landlady and looked at the white van advertising The Freedom Times & Transcript in black chancery script and grinned. “Do you mind if I leave my car here? I’ll be using the van for a few days.”
“It’s not in my way.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Marie helped me transfer my belongings from one vehicle to the other.
“Did that nice man get in touch with you?” she asked.
I stopped fast, like I’d been shot. “What man?”
“The biker. He said it was imperative he speak with you.”
“Did he say what about?”
She shook her head. “Just that it was urgent. Extremely urgent, I believe were his exact words.”
Extremely urgent, like life and death, namely mine urgent. “Did he say anything else?”
“Nothing.” Marie stared at the ground, as though she remembered something. I prompted her to tell me. “He seemed impatient,” she said.
“How so?”
She shrugged. “It was just a feeling. Are you in trouble, Josie?”
I shook my head. “I’m working on a story.” What a crock. If I weren’t careful, some hot shot reporter would be writing my story and the paper running my obit in the next day or two.
“I’m going to visit Amy this afternoon,” Marie said. “Would you like me to give her a message for you?”
“Tell her I’ll be in to see her tonight. Thanks.”
“Okay.”
Marie concerned me. I didn’t want her telling Amy about any of this. Not even God knew what Amy would do if she thought I needed her. I waved my hand toward the van and twirled my fingers in the air. “This stays between us. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
“If the biker comes back, what would you like me to tell him?”
I couldn’t ask Marie to lie. “That you gave me his message, and I had no comment.”
Marie looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “But that’s the truth.”
“It is.” From the expression on her face, she’d hoped to take part in my story. I couldn’t disappoint her. “On second thought, maybe we should give the man something to think about.”
I rapped my finger against my lower lip and paced, the crushed rock beneath my feet crunching. I could virtually feel Marie’s suspended breath.
I stopped and looked at her. “Tell him...tell him I will never carry his child, not for any amount of money.”
Marie slapped her hands together. “I knew it. Men today they want the babies, but not the mother. Good for you.”
I crooked my finger, beckoning her closer. When our faces were inches apart, I lowered my voice and said, “There’s more.” I hesitated to build suspense. My plan worked. Marie’s face lit like a hundred watt bulb.
“Tell me,” she said.
“He’s gay.”
“No way.”
I measured her reaction. If her eyes grew any larger, they’d explode. “Uh-huh. Frootie-tootie. And not only that, he wanted a ménage-a-quatre – him, his two boyfriends and me.