Alarums

  God, to kiss her. Just to hold and kiss her.

  Thinking about it made a hollow ache in his chest.

  Don't worry, Melanie, he thought, it'll never happen.

  If Whit dies…

  Nice thought. Damn.

  But to hold her, to kiss her.

  He remembered his shock of alarm when Pen had asked, last night, if he was cold. For just an instant he'd feared - and hoped - that she would ask him to come to the bed. No funny stuff, she would've said. Promise? Oh, yes.

  It didn't happen.

  Nothing happened.

  Not quite nothing. She hadn't told him to go away. They'd sat for a long time, alone in her room, she in her pajamas and he in his robe, and they'd talked. She'd told him things, shared secrets. There had been an intimacy to it all.

  Thank God for Melanie's vision. Without that for an excuse… It was not an excuse, he told himself. It was his reason for going to her room.

  His intentions had been entirely honorable.

  But God, what if something had happened!

  It didn't. It won't. Don't even think about it.

  Suppose she'd said, 'Bodie, I've been lying awake thinking about you, wishing you were here with me. I love you. I can't help myself.'

  With a moan, he tossed his covers aside and got out of bed. When he was dressed, he stepped into the hallway. The bathroom door was shut. He heard water running -someone about to take a bath? So he combed his hair in the bedroom, then went downstairs.

  From the silence, he guessed that nobody else was around. Someone had been in the kitchen, though. He poured himself a mug of hot coffee.

  On the center of the kitchen table was a note folded in half to make it stand like a tent. Bodie picked it up.

  ***

  Hi!

  I've gone to Mass and I have some errands to run. Expect me when you see me. Make yourselfs at home. Their's bacon and eggs in the fridge as well as coffee cake in the freezer. So help yourselfs.

  Love,

  Joyce

  ***

  Good speller, Bodie thought, and put the note down.

  Gone to mass? That would mean she's Catholic. Will you be confessing today, Joyce? And what sort of sins will you be whispering in the Father's ear? Adultery? Attempted murder?

  Beyond the glass door, the patio was bright with sunlight. Bodie stepped to the door. He gripped its handle. He saw Pen off to the left, reclined on a lounger and reading a paperback. She wore a blue and yellow plaid blouse and white shorts. Her legs were stretched out, long and slender, her bare feet crossed at the ankles. She had a coffee mug in one hand.

  Bodie wanted to go out there and pull up a chair beside her.

  What could it hurt?

  He didn't know what it could hurt, but maybe she wanted time to herself and maybe Melanie would put in an appearance full of suspicion and maybe he had just damn well not find himself alone with Pen first thing in the morning.

  So he backed away from the door.

  He carried his coffee mug into the living room. The Sunday Los Angeles Times was on a lamp table. He searched through it until he found the book section, then sat on the couch to read it while he drank his coffee and waited.

  When his mug was empty, he returned to the kitchen. He filled it. He stepped to the door and looked out again. Pen was still on the lounger. Her knees were drawn up, and she held the book open against her thighs. Her hair glinted in the sunlight.

  With a sigh, he turned away. He took his coffee back to the living room and sat down. This is crazy, he thought, and I'm a rat. She's Melanie's sister, for Godsake.

  I haven't done anything.

  And I'd better not.

  It would probably blow up in my face, anyway. Even if Pen were interested in me (a damn big if), she's loyal to Melanie. Look what happened when that Steve character put moves on her.

  Bodie found the newspaper's 'Calendar' section and began to look at the movie ads.

  ***

  Then Melanie came down the stairs. She wore her tan corduroys and a gray sleeveless sweatshirt with the neck stretched out so it hung below one shoulder. Her choker was black.

  'Where is everyone?' she asked as she approached him.

  Bodie stood up. 'I don't know where your sister is. Joyce went to mass.'

  'Mass?' She smirked.

  'All squeaky clean?' he asked, and stroked the back of her head. Her thick black hair felt damp. She moved against him, and they kissed. Her hands slipped into the rear pockets of his pants. As they rubbed him, Bodie eased his own hands under her sweatshirt. Her skin felt smooth. There were no straps. He ran his hands up and down her back. Velvety. Warm. Bare. She felt wonderful and she was his and he was nuts to want Pen when he already had Melanie. He pushed a hand beneath the waistband of her cords.

  'Aren't you ever not horny?' she whispered against his lips.

  'Not when you're around.'

  She smiled slightly. She kissed him again, then eased away. 'I wonder if the bitch left us something to eat.'

  'Bacon and eggs in the fridge, coffee cake in the freezer.'

  They headed for the kitchen.

  'She sure got out of here early,' Melanie said.

  'Think she's avoiding us?'

  'I'd avoid us, if I were her.' Melanie lifted the note off the kitchen table. 'Mass. That's rich. Wants us to think she went off to pray for Dad?'

  'Maybe she did.'

  'Yeah, to pray he dies.'

  Bodie stepped over to the door. 'Oh, there's Pen. I wonder if she's eaten yet.'

  'Ask her.'

  ***

  He slid open the door. The sound made her look around. 'Good morning,' he said.

  'Hi, Bodie.'

  His heart beat a little faster. 'Are you hungry?'

  Nodding, she swung her legs off the lounger and stood up. Bodie caught himself staring at her legs as she walked toward him. He turned away.

  'It's wonderful out there,' she said and entered the kitchen. 'I never sit out at my place.'

  'Maybe you can find a new apartment with a private patio,' Melanie said.

  'I should try. Sleep well?' she asked.

  'Fine,' Melanie answered.

  'Me, too,' said Bodie. 'Zonked right out.'

  "The jacuzzi will do that to you. That and the booze.' She met Bodie's gaze and looked away. 'I was out like a light.'

  'Did you see Joyce's note?' Bodie asked.

  'Guess she's making herself scarce. Who could blame her?'

  'What do you mean?' Bodie asked.

  'Just that she can't be very comfortable around Dad's family. She's obviously sleeping with Harrison, after all.'

  'I thought you didn't believe that,' Melanie said. 'What changed your mind?'

  'Being around her, I guess. I can't even put my finger on it, but there's something about her. Maybe the way she's been acting - I don't know - ingratiating. It's as if she has a guilty conscience so she's bending over backwards to be sweet. You add that to the fact that Harrison was here yesterday morning… and what you told me about the bed.' Pen frowned at her sister. 'It makes me think that maybe you've been right about her all along. She wouldn't be sleeping with Harrison if she loved Dad.'

  'She never loved Dad,' Melanie said. 'She just wanted his money.'

  'But that doesn't mean she tried to kill him,' Bodie pointed out.

  Melanie stabbed him with her eyes.

  He grimaced. 'Woops.'

  'What are you talking about?' Pen asked. 'Tried to kill Dad?'

  Bodie tried to look sorry for his slip of the tongue. With a shrug, he said, 'Maybe you'd better tell her, Melanie.'

  'Neat play.'

  'It just came out.'

  'I wish somebody would tell me what the hell's going on,' Pen demanded. 'My God, I think I have a right to know. He's my father, too.'

  Leaning back against the refrigerator door, Melanie folded her arms across her chest. She sighed, gave Bodie another fierce glance, then met Pen's eyes. 'Joyce and Harrison fixed it up
so Dad would get hit by the car.'

  Pen's eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open. She shook her head. That's insane,' she muttered.

  'I told you she wouldn't listen.'

  'Go on,' Bodie urged. Tell her the rest.'

  'What's the point?'

  Bodie looked at Pen. ' Harrison was driving the car that ran your father down. Melanie saw him. It was that vision she had last night in the hospital room.'

  'I saw him behind the windshield,' Melanie said. 'It was as if I were looking with Dad's eyes.'

  'You can't make an accusation like that based on nothing more than… your imagination.'

  'It wasn't my imagination.'

  'Maybe it was telepathy,' Bodie suggested. 'Maybe your father communicated it to her.'

  'Don't tell me you believe it, too?'

  'I don't know. I guess maybe I do.'

  'You're both bananas.'

  Bodie wondered if, perhaps, Pen was playing it a bit too skeptical.

  'Joyce made the dinner reservations,' Melanie said, a certain eagerness sneaking into her voice. 'She knew Dad always parked behind the bank, knew he'd have to cross the street. Harrison parked and waited till Dad started across.'

  'It could've happened that way,' Bodie said.

  'It did.'

  'You'd need proof,' Pen told her. 'You can't base this whole thing on some kind of psychic experience.'

  'Let's get proof,' Bodie suggested.

  'I already know,' Melanie said.

  'Your visions aren't always right,' Pen pointed out. 'Remember Dad's honeymoon?'

  'That was a fluke.'

  'Maybe this is a fluke.'

  'It's not.'

  'Then let's get some proof we can take to the police,' Bodie said.

  Melanie sighed.

  'We'd need to take a look at Harrison 's car,' Pen said. 'If he hit Dad, the car might've sustained some damage. And there'd be… traces. Even if he tried to wash it off…'

  'Joyce claimed it was a sports car,' Bodie said. ' Harrison drives a Mercedes.'

  'Joyce could've lied,' Melanie said.

  ' Harrison owns a Porsche,' said Pen. 'He has a Mercedes and a Porsche.'

  'You would know that.' Melanie smirked at Bodie. They were lovers, you know.'

  'We were not lovers.'

  'Uh-huh, sure.'

  'We went out a few times, that's all.'

  'Do you know where he lives?' Bodie asked.

  'Of course she does.'

  Bodie wished he hadn't found out about Pen and Harrison. Thoughts of them together… 'Let's drive out to his place,' he said quickly, 'and see if we can get a look at his Porsche.'

  Melanie shrugged. 'I guess it can't hurt.'

  'Why don't we have breakfast first?' Bodie suggested. 'I'm starving.'

  'You and your stomach.'

  ' Harrison 's house is only a few miles from here,' Pen said. 'Why don't we eat afterwards?'

  'Two against one,' he said, 'it ain't fair.'

  ***

  Bodie drove west on San Vicente. Melanie sat in the van's passenger seat. Pen, crouched behind them, held onto the seatbacks, her left hand inches from Bodie's shoulder. Her face was in the gap, and he saw it each time he looked to the right. Her shampoo, or perfume, had a fresh clean scent.

  Bodie's stomach didn't feel right - maybe simple hunger, maybe being so close to Pen, or maybe a reaction to finding out about her and Harrison. Lovers? She'd denied it. But she had admitted going with him. Bodie didn't like that. The guy was movie-star handsome, cool and smooth.

  Drives a fucking Porsche.

  An asshole.

  Even if they hadn't been lovers, Pen must've liked him. They must've kissed. He must've had his hands on her.

  Such thoughts didn't improve the condition of Bodie's stomach.

  Whatever went on between them, he told himself, it's over now. Pen doesn't seem to like him. Maybe he dumped her. I hope she's the one who did the dumping.

  'Make a left at the light,' she said.

  Bodie steered into the turn pocket and waited for the green arrow.

  'You know,' Melanie said, 'he probably didn't use his own car.'

  'He's arrogant enough,' said Pen. 'Maybe he did.'

  'Arrogant doesn't mean stupid.'

  'It's still worth checking,' Bodie told them, and made the turn.

  'You'll want to hang a right on the third street down.'

  He nodded.

  'Either rented a car or stole one.'

  'Not necessarily,' Pen said. 'Renting would leave a trail.'

  'He could've paid cash.'

  'You have to show ID. Maybe he's got a fake ID, but that's tricky to pull off. The driver's license has your photo.'

  'It's not that tricky,' Melanie argued.

  'Besides, the rental person could identify him.'

  'Not if he wore a disguise.'

  'I don't think he'd do anything that elaborate - and risky. As you said, he's not stupid. He would know that the simpler he made it, the less chance of tripping up.'

  Bodie turned right. The residential street was shaded by trees. The houses, mostly two stories, looked old but well kept. A peaceful neighborhood, its occupants probably well-off if not filthy rich.

  'Two blocks,' Pen told him. 'Then make a left.'

  'He must've stolen it, then,' Melanie said.

  'That's not so simple, either. It's not as easy as they make it look on TV. Especially if we're talking about a sports car. You can't just jump in and hotwire the thing in five seconds and take off. You've got to bypass the steering wheel lock - and most of these newer cars have alarm systems.'

  'Sports cars get stolen all the time,' Melanie told her. 'Mostly by pros, guys with the equipment to pull the ignition…'

  'You sound like a pro yourself,' Bodie said.

  'I've written about this kind of stuff. I had to do some research.'

  'I just can't believe he would use his own car,' Melanie said.

  'There must be a thousand Porsches in LA. At least. He slaps some stolen plates on his Porsche before he goes after Dad, and he's home free as long as he doesn't take it in for repairs. He's got the Mercedes. He can leave the Porsche in his garage for a few weeks, then maybe get it repaired out of state. Turn here, Bodie, then take the first left.'

  He slowed, steered around the corner, saw the intersection a short distance ahead, and flicked the arm of his turn signal.

  'It'll be the third house on the right,' Pen said. 'What'll we do,' Bodie asked, 'drop in and ask to see his Porsche?'

  'Just go by, for starters. Don't even slow down.'

  Even as he made the turn, he spotted Harrison 's gray Mercedes parked in the driveway of the third house. 'Damn it,' Melanie muttered.

  'Too bad he's not at mass with Joyce,' Bodie said.

  Harrison 's home, unlike those of his neighbors, was a single-story ranch house. It looked more modern than the others. Red brick, a red tile roof, white trim. In front of the Mercedes stood a wrought-iron gate.

  Pen's head blocked Bodie's view as she strained forward between the seats to look out Melanie's window. When she settled back, they were beyond the house.

  'The Porsche must be in his garage,' she said.

  'So what'll we do?' Bodie asked.

  'We can't do anything while he's there.'

  'Why don't we get some breakfast?'

  'All right.'

  He stopped at the corner, waited for a Mustang to go by, then drove through the intersection and saw, parked at the curb, a black Lincoln Continental. His heart gave a kick.

  'My God,' Melanie gasped.

  Bodie hit the brakes.

  Pen leaned forward again. 'It's Dad's, all right.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'That pipe holder on the dash? I gave it to him for Christmas a few years ago.'

  Bodie shook his head. 'Guess who's not at mass.'

  'That miserable bitch,' Pen muttered. 'She really is making it with… oh, man. Oh, that dirty…'

  'I knew i
t all along.' Melanie sounded proud of herself.

  'God, if Dad ever found out he'd die. How could she do something like this!' Pen dropped backward out of sight. 'I want to go home,' she said in a small voice.

  Bodie started his van moving again.

  'Not to her home.' She sniffed. 'I never want to see her again.'

  Melanie grinned.

  'Your apartment?' Bodie asked.

  'Please.'

  'What about the caller?'

  'Who cares?'

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Bodie insisted on escorting Pen up to her apartment. Melanie stayed with them. This time, no note had been left under the door.

  'Are you sure you'll be all right here?' Bodie asked.

  'I just need to be alone.'

  'I don't know why you're so upset all of a sudden,' Melanie said. 'I thought you already believed they were screwing around. All that happened is that we confirmed it.'

  'Yeah, we confirmed it. I'll see you guys later, okay? Could you do me a real favor and bring my stuff over sometime? I really don't want to go back there unless I have to.'

  'Sure, we'll do that,' Bodie said. 'Maybe you should reconnect one of your phones in case we need to get in touch about something.'

  She nodded.

  Then they were gone.

  Pen sat on her sofa, propped her elbows on her knees, and rested her chin on her hands. She stared at the wall.

  Hell no, she hadn't believed that Joyce was making it with Harrison. She'd suspected it, of course, but she hadn't believed. It was too damned outrageous.

  Probably in Harrison 's bed right now, this instant, fucking. And Dad in the hospital, barely alive.

  And yeah they did it yesterday, too. Right from the hospital to Dad's home and fucked in Dad's bed.

  What kind of scum is she?

  The kind of scum, maybe, who would try to kill Dad. Why not? A piece of shit like that doesn't have any conscience.

  How about Harrison?

  Yeah, how about him.

  Dad trusted him, treated him like a son, thought I'd lost my mind when I refused to see the guy any more, probably had our wedding all planned in his head and was looking forward to the grandchildren. I damn near wept at the pitiful look on his face. 'You two are so perfect for each other.' Right, Dad, but he's a shallow egocentric sadistic sleaze. Only I couldn't hurt you by telling on him. Big mistake.