Resurrection Dreams

  “Maybe she did do it. That’s what the cops say.”

  “You don’t have to play games with me, Melvin.”

  Maybe you’re the one playing games, he thought. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He didn’t want to believe it. This was all too good to be real, but why can’t it be real? Resurrecting Patricia had been too good to be real. It had happened, though. This could be happening, too. Vicki might honestly like him—even love him—for what he’d done to Pollock.

  “I’m curious about something,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me, but…it was fascinating the other night when you explained about digging up Darlene and setting up your science project. So how on earth did you manage to make it look like Patricia…took care of that creep?”

  “Can’t we talk about something else?”

  “Sure. I’m sorry.” She took a sip of wine and looked around as if searching for the waiter.

  “Somebody could hear us.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked. Forget it. I mean, I’m interested, that’s all. But I can understand how you might be afraid of saying anything…too specific. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Ah, here comes the food.”

  This time, Melvin felt grateful for the waiter’s interruption. It saved him from getting in deeper. He didn’t know what to do. Vicki was pushing to find out everything. Maybe she needed to be convinced that he really had done the job on Pollock. Maybe she was starting to doubt it. What if she should decide he wasn’t involved, after all?

  The waiter left, and Vicki began to eat.

  Melvin looked down at his plate. Steam was rising off the asparagus and white rice. The prawns were smothered in a brownish sauce that smelled strongly of garlic. He forked one and tried it.

  “Good?” Vicki asked.

  “Yeah.” He supposed it was very good, but he had no appetite. He went ahead and ate, anyway. He ate, and drank wine, and watched Vicki. Though she sometimes glanced up at him, she didn’t speak.

  I should’ve told her, Melvin thought. I’m gonna lose her.

  Then he reminded himself that she had eaten her salad with the same concentration. It’s just the way she eats. Doesn’t mean nothing.

  What if I do tell her? he wondered.

  That would mean explaining about Patricia. Would Vicki even believe him? She’d believe, all right, if he showed her Patricia.

  Can’t do that.

  He could just imagine the scene. Patricia would fly into a jealous rage and Vicki, herself, might freak out when she realized what he’d been up to. Killing, resurrecting, living with a zombie. Even if she could accept all that, she was bound to figure out what he and Patricia had been doing together. That’d be bad enough, even if Patricia was just a regular person. But doing it with a zombie?

  Can’t ever let her find out, he decided.

  She isn’t gonna find out, long as I keep my mouth shut. I’ll get rid of Patricia before Vicki ever steps foot in my house. She’ll never know.

  When she finished eating, she picked up the wine bottle and inspected it. Melvin saw that there wasn’t much left. They had both been refilling their glasses during the meal. She poured more wine into Melvin’s glass, then emptied the bottle into hers. “Would you like some coffee or dessert?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  They’d have more time in the restaurant if they lingered over coffee and dessert. He wanted more time with her. But it would be even better if they were alone.

  Maybe we can go someplace.

  She has her own car. Ace’s.

  But she’s had a lot to drink.

  “You wanta have another margarita or something?” he asked.

  Smiling, she shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think that’d be such a good idea. I know my limits. I wouldn’t be in any condition to drive.”

  “I’ll drive you. You can leave the car here.”

  The waiter showed up. “Would you care for coffee?”

  “No, I think we’re all done.”

  “Very good. Did you enjoy your meal?”

  “Everything was delicious,” Vicki said.

  He left.

  Vicki lifted her purse off the seat beside her and set it on her lap. Melvin felt a pressure growing inside. As soon as she paid the bill, they would be leaving.

  What’ll happen then?

  “I oughta drive you,” he said. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

  “Don’t be silly, Melvin.”

  “We can take Ace’s car. I can come back and get mine.”

  “What would you do, walk all the way over here?”

  “Sure. It ain’t far.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” she said. “I really do. But that’d be so much trouble for you.”

  The waiter returned. He had the bill on a small plastic tray. He set the tray on the table. Vicki quickly picked up the bill. She studied it for a few moments, then took cash from her purse. She placed three twenties on the tray, covered them with the bill, and smiled at Melvin. “All ready?”

  “Don’t you gotta wait for your change?”

  Shaking her head, she scooted to the end of the booth and stood up. Melvin saw that her blouse hung loose past her waist, draping the top of a white, pleated skirt. The skirt covered her almost to the knees.

  She waited for Melvin to rise, then took hold of his hand. Her warmth seemed to flow up his arm. He felt as if his heart were swelling.

  This is so great, he thought. This is so great—it can’t end.

  We’ll go somewhere, now.

  It’ll be her idea. Just wait and see. We’ll get into the parking lot and she’ll say, Why don’t you follow me in your car? We can go to my place. Ace isn’t home. We can sit around and have a drink and talk some more. I’d like that, wouldn’t you?

  It’ll happen. That’s just what she’ll say. She just paid for my dinner, for Christ sake. And she still wants to know how I wiped out Pollock.

  He opened the door for Vicki, and they stepped into the night.

  “Will you walk me to my car?” she asked, still holding his hand.

  “Sure.”

  They started across the parking lot.

  “Did you enjoy your dinner?” she asked.

  “Being with you.”

  She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll do it again soon, all right?”

  “Yeah.” Melvin felt himself sinking. She was getting ready to tell him goodnight. She wasn’t going to say they should go somewhere now. Her suggestion that they soon have dinner again didn’t help dispel his gloom. He wanted to be with her now—tonight. “Next time, I’m gonna pay.”

  “Next time,” Vicki said, “maybe you’ll trust me enough to be honest about things.”

  Her words, though softly spoken, struck him like a punch.

  “I trust you.” He sounded whiny to himself.

  Vicki stopped beside Ace’s Mustang, released his hand, and took the keys out of her purse. She faced him. “I wish you did, Melvin. I don’t know what kind of relationship we can have, if you feel you need to keep things from me. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed. If you can’t be open with me…”

  “I’ll be open. It was just…we was in a restaurant.”

  “We’re not in the restaurant, now. Nobody’s anywhere around.”

  “Can’t we go someplace? Can’t we go someplace and talk? Like maybe your house?”

  “Ace is there.”

  “Well, how about we just drive? We can park someplace and…”

  “I have to get home. I can’t be away from a telephone. One of my patients is about due…”

  “Huh?”

  “I might have to deliver a baby tonight. In fact, we’re lucky we made it through dinner. I can’t go anywhere but home, Melvin. I’ll give you a call in a few days.”

  “A few days?”

  “I need some time to think. I’m not at all sure about things anymore.”

  “Just ‘cause I didn’t tell you about Patricia?”

  “I don’t ca
re about that. I’m interested, but…it’s the fact that you’re keeping me closed out. You’re afraid to reveal yourself to me. That’s what hurts.”

  His mouth was dry, his heart slamming. “What if I tell you I sent Patricia to waste him?”

  “Did you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “See? You still won’t open up. What do you think, I’m going to tell the police? Do you think I’ve got a tape recorder here, or something?” She suddenly pulled open her purse and thrust it toward his face. “Look. You see a recorder in there?”

  The lights of the parking lot were bright enough for him to see a billfold, a compact, a tube of lipstick, and a small pack of tissues inside the purse. Nothing that resembled a tape recorder.

  “Satisfied?” Vicki asked. She snapped the purse shut, whirled around, fumbled with the keys, got one into the door lock and opened the door. She tossed her purse onto the car seat. Then, she turned and faced Melvin. She shook her head. “I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  “Well, yeah. Sure it’s all right.”

  Leaning forward, she brushed her lips lightly against his mouth. “I’ll call you,” she whispered.

  He stood there speechless, amazed and thrilled, and watched her climb into the car. The door thumped shut. The engine stuttered to life. The headlights came on. The driver’s window slid down.

  Lurching forward, he reached through the window and clutched Vicki’s shoulder. “It was Patricia,” he blurted. “She did it, but I made her do it. Hypnosis, that’s how. Okay? Okay?”

  She reached across her body and pressed Melvin’s hand down on her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said. “I’ll call. Ace is going away, so we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

  She released his hand. She slowly backed up the car, and he felt her shoulder slide away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She pressed herself against Jack. He embraced her. The muscles of his chest and arms were big and hard. Wrapped by him, Vicki felt small, protected, safe. She kissed him. She opened her mouth and tasted Jack’s lips and tongue.

  It was like standing in the first rays of sunlight after a night of awful darkness and numbing cold.

  Too soon, he eased away from her and shut the door. “That was well worth the wait,” he said. He reached out and lightly stroked her cheek. “You look wonderful. And a little rattled.”

  “It wasn’t much fun.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Coffee?”

  He nodded. He took her hand, and led her across the foyer. They entered a living room that seemed huge and plush compared to Ace’s. The thick carpet felt soft under her shoes. “This is very nice,” she said.

  “Did you have any trouble finding your way?”

  “Not much,” she said. In fact, she had been so distracted and dazed by the encounter with Melvin that she’d driven past the street and didn’t even notice her mistake until she found herself a block from Ace’s house.

  She bashed her forearm against a dining room chair.

  “Ouch!” Jack said. “You all right?”

  Grimacing, she let go of his hand and rubbed her arm. “Like you said, I’m rattled. And a little…tipsy. I had a drink before he got there. I don’t think I could’ve faced him sober. Then, I wanted to loosen him up so we both kept drinking.”

  “And who was this mystery date?”

  “Melvin Dobbs.”

  “You’re kidding.” He led her into the kitchen, past a breakfast table, and pulled out one of the stools at the serving counter. While he held her steady, she climbed onto the stool. She leaned over the counter and braced herself on her elbows. “Crazy Melvin?” he asked. “That’s who you had dinner with? The guy who’s smitten with you? The guy who’s missing a screw?”

  “That’s him.”

  Jack frowned at her from the other side of the counter. “Why?”

  “I wanted him to admit killing Pollock.”

  “And did he?”

  “He did.”

  Jack’s eyes widened.

  “That missing nurse? Patricia? He said he hypnotized her and made her do it.”

  “Good God.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  Vicki nodded.

  “Well.” Jack rubbed his jaw. He turned away and walked over the the coffee maker at the far end of the kitchen. “No wonder you wouldn’t tell me what you were up to.”

  “I just didn’t want you to worry. Or try to talk me out of it.”

  “I would’ve done both,” he said. He scooped ground coffee into the filter and looked around at her. “I knew you had guts, lady, but…”

  “But you didn’t realize I’m crazy?”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re crazy. Hey, you might slug me again. But why did you do it?”

  “He has to be put away.”

  Jack slid the filter into place, poured water into the top of the machine, flicked a switch that turned on a red light, and came back to her. He stood at the other side of the counter. “Why do you suppose Dobbs made this confession to you?”

  “He wants me to…approve of him. I let him believe he was doing me a big favor by killing Pollock. I mean, Pollock had insulted me in front of him. I as much as told him I thought it was great that he’d…stood up for my honor. By nailing the guy.”

  “So he told you what he knew you wanted to hear. Whether or not he actually did the deed.”

  She stared up at Jack. “Hey, whose side are you on, here?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “You’re making it sound like the whole things was a waste of time. God, I damn near seduced him.”

  “Under which circumstances, any reasonable man—not to mention social outcast with questionable emotional stability who has been fantasizing about having you as his lover—would’ve admitted almost anything.”

  “Come on, don’t say that. It was awful. He…he loves me, Jack. And I encouraged it. I felt like the biggest liar of all time. I felt like such a shit, and you’re telling me it means nothing that he confessed?”

  “No, I’m not telling you that. His confession would be admissible in court.”

  “So it’s real evidence?”

  “It is. But very weak. Any decent attorney would have no trouble at all convincing a jury that it was given under a form of coercion. You were dangling yourself in front of him like bait. Confess, and I’m all yours.”

  Vicki felt herself blushing. “I didn’t say that.”

  “From what you’ve told me, the implication must’ve been pretty clear to him.”

  “So is it evidence, or isn’t it?”

  “It’s enough to set an investigation into motion. It’s probable cause for a search warrant.”

  “Even to Raines?”

  “He’d be a fool not to act on it.” Jack smiled. “Of course, he is a fool. But Bob Dennison isn’t.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “The District Attorney. And also my fishing buddy.”

  Vicki felt a grin stretch her face. “Well, it sure pays to be well-connected.”

  “That it does. One way or another, I’m sure we can arrange it so that Dobbs will be visited by the authorities first thing in the morning.”

  “Then what?”

  “We hope they find something tangible.”

  She nodded. “Like Patricia.”

  “Or her body. In fact, with what they apparently have on that woman, any physical evidence of her presence in the house should be sufficient grounds for hauling Dobbs in. And you never know what they might find. Pollock’s service revolver. His badge. Even some of his blood might’ve gotten into the house. If Dobbs was involved, there’s a very good chance they’ll find something to tie him in.”

  “Suppose they don’t?”

  “Then you’re in trouble. Dobbs will know you’re the one who fingered him, and he might not love you anymore.”

 
“There’s a mixed blessing.”

  “You’ve gone this far. I don’t suppose you’d let a little matter like that stop you.”

  “I don’t suppose I would.”

  “We’ll see to it that he doesn’t get a chance to…visit his displeasure on you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jack looked over his shoulder. “Coffee’s ready. Do you take cream or sugar?”

  Melvin wished he could read the fucker’s lips.

  He had a very good view of Vicki’s back. She had been sitting on the stool since he found the kitchen window. For a while, he hadn’t seen anyone else. Then the man had come up to the other side of the counter and started talking to her. The angle was good, so Melvin could see him beyond Vicki’s shoulder.

  A big guy. He looked like a goddamn football player. He wore a white knit shirt that showed off his muscles.

  Melvin didn’t know who he was. He for sure wasn’t the pregnant lady, though.

  Keeping a safe distance back, Melvin had followed Vicki when she left the restaurant’s parking lot. He wished she would drive faster. He ached for her to reach Ace’s house. Though he couldn’t be with her, at least he could watch her—find a window and spy on her. That’d be something. He was sure she’d change clothes as soon as she got there. He might get to see her slip out of that shiny blouse, step out of that long white skirt, maybe even take off the rest.

  If she didn’t take off her clothes, it would still be great to watch her. He knew he could look at her for hours, and every moment would be exciting.

  But Vicki didn’t drive to Ace’s house, the way she’d said she would.

  She lied to me, Melvin thought.

  Did she lie about everything?

  His mind reeled with confusion and loss.

  Then, her car stopped at a curb. Melvin slowed down. He drove by just in time to see her reach the front door of a big two-story house.

  I know! he told himself.

  He felt like a fool for doubting her.

  It was nothing. Instead of going straight to Ace’s house, Vicki had decided to pay a visit to the pregnant gal. Just look in on her, check on her progress.

  She’ll be there for a few minutes, then she’ll head on home.