sister is my boss, not you , she wants to say.
“So you thought you’d take a paid and undeclared holiday. We don’t work that way around here, missy. You might have been able to work your charms around my sister, but you won’t with me.” His eyes take on a lustful cast. “Pity. You’re quite the ripe little vixen. But you’re not such a virgin as you make out to be, I hear.”
An uneasy sensation worms down her spine. “What do you mean?”
He crooks his arms and rests upon them. His eyes are filled with a malicious light.
“Don’t think I don’t know who your boyfriend is. He killed my sister and he’s going to pay for it.” Richard’s grin widens. “Bigtime.”
“My boyfriend didn ’t kill anyone. The killer is still out at large.”
“Oh really? I’d say they have caught him alre ady and let him go out on bail. He’s out at large in the streets so he can terrorize and kill more women.”
Abby finds her cheeks going hot. “That’s not true.”
“Oh yeah? Word is that you put up the bail for him.” He sneers at her. “Quite the rich little Southern vixen you are, aren’t you?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“On the contrary, it’s very much my business. For all I know, you could have been in league with your gigolo boyfriend there to off my sister. I can see it now. Jealous of their relationship together, which involved a whole lot of hot sex, you planned it together to kill her in her own bed. I don’t mind telling you I’ve shared my theories with that nice police detective who was here to visit just the other day.” An evil slant twists his face. “He shares the same theories with me, as a matter of fact. You can expect a visit from him real soon.”
Cold hands grip Abby’s gut. What Pat predicted is coming true.
“You don’t seem very upset your sister is dead.”
“Oh, I am, believe me. I am.” His gleeful expression is an aberration to his spoken claims. “I’m broken by it. My own sister who has looked after me since I was a kid. How can I not be cut to shreds if anything happened to her?”
“You don’t sound it.”
“I have done my crying, believe me. When Detective Ford interviewed me, I cried buckets in front of him. Simply buckets.”
Abby refuses to take any more of this, and so she hands him her resignation letter and turns to leave.
“You can’t run away, sweets,” he calls after her. “There’ll be a reckoning coming and you and your boyfriend will be in separate prisons for a long, long time.”
Abby runs out into the sunlight with his laughter chasing her.
FUNERAL
“Rachel’s funeral is today,” Devon announces when he sees the notice in the obituary section of the New York Post.
He has taken up painting again in earnest. He puts his paintbrush into the pot and wipes his hands on his overalls. She hates it when he does that. It takes forever to get the paint stains out. She figures she should buy him plastic overalls.
He has been takin g a lot less ‘clients’ of late. He doesn’t mention it to her, but he has not been going out at night. She doesn’t bring it up. She isn’t sure whether it’s by his choice, or if the clients are staying away from him because they are spooked by what is happening. She would like to think that it is by his choice and their ‘argument’ had something to do with it.
Still, she knows he has to clear this up, or he would be facing a lot less commissions on both his professions. Permanently.
“Why are you packing up?” she ask s.
“I’m going to her funeral.” He does not look at her.
She thinks of Richard and the rest of Rachel’s family there, and the blood freezes in her veins.
“Uh, Devon, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I didn’t kill her and I have nothing to hide. To not show up would be tantamount to admitting I did it. After all, I did know her.”
“No, Devon, that is flawed thinking. Extremely flawed thinking.”
She pictures everyone glaring
“So you thought you’d take a paid and undeclared holiday. We don’t work that way around here, missy. You might have been able to work your charms around my sister, but you won’t with me.” His eyes take on a lustful cast. “Pity. You’re quite the ripe little vixen. But you’re not such a virgin as you make out to be, I hear.”
An uneasy sensation worms down her spine. “What do you mean?”
He crooks his arms and rests upon them. His eyes are filled with a malicious light.
“Don’t think I don’t know who your boyfriend is. He killed my sister and he’s going to pay for it.” Richard’s grin widens. “Bigtime.”
“My boyfriend didn ’t kill anyone. The killer is still out at large.”
“Oh really? I’d say they have caught him alre ady and let him go out on bail. He’s out at large in the streets so he can terrorize and kill more women.”
Abby finds her cheeks going hot. “That’s not true.”
“Oh yeah? Word is that you put up the bail for him.” He sneers at her. “Quite the rich little Southern vixen you are, aren’t you?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“On the contrary, it’s very much my business. For all I know, you could have been in league with your gigolo boyfriend there to off my sister. I can see it now. Jealous of their relationship together, which involved a whole lot of hot sex, you planned it together to kill her in her own bed. I don’t mind telling you I’ve shared my theories with that nice police detective who was here to visit just the other day.” An evil slant twists his face. “He shares the same theories with me, as a matter of fact. You can expect a visit from him real soon.”
Cold hands grip Abby’s gut. What Pat predicted is coming true.
“You don’t seem very upset your sister is dead.”
“Oh, I am, believe me. I am.” His gleeful expression is an aberration to his spoken claims. “I’m broken by it. My own sister who has looked after me since I was a kid. How can I not be cut to shreds if anything happened to her?”
“You don’t sound it.”
“I have done my crying, believe me. When Detective Ford interviewed me, I cried buckets in front of him. Simply buckets.”
Abby refuses to take any more of this, and so she hands him her resignation letter and turns to leave.
“You can’t run away, sweets,” he calls after her. “There’ll be a reckoning coming and you and your boyfriend will be in separate prisons for a long, long time.”
Abby runs out into the sunlight with his laughter chasing her.
FUNERAL
“Rachel’s funeral is today,” Devon announces when he sees the notice in the obituary section of the New York Post.
He has taken up painting again in earnest. He puts his paintbrush into the pot and wipes his hands on his overalls. She hates it when he does that. It takes forever to get the paint stains out. She figures she should buy him plastic overalls.
He has been takin g a lot less ‘clients’ of late. He doesn’t mention it to her, but he has not been going out at night. She doesn’t bring it up. She isn’t sure whether it’s by his choice, or if the clients are staying away from him because they are spooked by what is happening. She would like to think that it is by his choice and their ‘argument’ had something to do with it.
Still, she knows he has to clear this up, or he would be facing a lot less commissions on both his professions. Permanently.
“Why are you packing up?” she ask s.
“I’m going to her funeral.” He does not look at her.
She thinks of Richard and the rest of Rachel’s family there, and the blood freezes in her veins.
“Uh, Devon, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I didn’t kill her and I have nothing to hide. To not show up would be tantamount to admitting I did it. After all, I did know her.”
“No, Devon, that is flawed thinking. Extremely flawed thinking.”
She pictures everyone glaring
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