The Devil's Dance Page 9

  Seattle. That was the ticket. Maybe this time my sister would join me. There were software companies up there and we could start fresh. I could finally give up my nomadic ways.

  A hard knock at the door ripped me from my thoughts. I snapped off my rubber gloves and smoothed my apron, panic sizzling through my veins. Was it Daddy? Had Meyerson figured out where I lived? Had Cesar died and Fort Worth police contacted Meyerson to arrest me? When peeked out a window, I spotted the young boy from earlier and was able to breathe again.

  I opened the door. Josh stood on my porch, his father JC two steps down. JC still looked like the blond athlete I remembered. He’d have made a fine quarterback had the high school been big enough to make an entire team. Other than a slight receding hairline and some smile lines, he hadn’t changed in the least. His chiseled face was somber. “Good to see you,” he said.

  “Uh, you too. What brings you here?” I asked.

  JC glanced around as if to see if he were being watched. “Your sister told us she rented this place for you.” He held up a plastic grocery sack. “I’ve got something you need to see.” He gently touched Josh’s shoulder. “Wait outside, and let us talk alone, please.”

  Josh muttered a, “Yessir” and backed down the steps, returning to a large red dually pickup to listen to music on his iPhone.

  I guided JC in though the age-warped screen door, and he handed me the sack once we were inside. It was too dim in the living room to inspect what was in the bag, so I ushered him into my tiny kitchen, and flipped on the overhead fluorescent bulbs. As the sickly bulbs fluttered to life, I spilled the contents onto the counter. My knees almost went out from under me. I whirled to JC. “Th-this isn’t possible. Where did you get this?” My hands shook as I rasped my fingertips across the heavy gold St. Jude, coated in layers of ancient earth like something discovered on an archeological dig. There was also a large brown SAS purse, withered dry and caked in dirt. I pawed it open probing for more, but the inside was empty save for some rocks, stickers, and dried grass.

  His face grim, JC replied, “The boys found the necklace a few minutes before I got there. They’d swept the metal detector over a large pile of fill dirt. When he showed me what he found, I thought it might be your mom’s. I made the boys sit in the truck while I kept searching.” His face creased with worry. “Covered every inch I could before dark. The only other thing I found was the purse. Is it Ilsa’s?”

  Numb, all I could do was nod. I rubbed my temples that now throbbed. “But this makes no sense.”

  “I know. It doesn’t, but then again your mom ditching her family for another man never made any sense either.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded again. “We need to go to the police.”

  JC scrubbed his palm over his close-cropped hair. “Don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why? Clearly this shows that maybe something happened to her. Something bad. We need to find out. She could…” my voice cracked. “She could be out there.”

  JC grabbed my shoulders. He stared into my eyes and calmly said, “I know she could. But be careful.”

  “Careful? What? Why?”

  His lowered his voice barely above a whisper. “Think, Romi. Ferris was the one who claimed he saw your mom run off with some biker. We can’t rule out the possibility he might have had something to do with whatever happened to her.”

  “I don’t like Ferris any more than you do, but maybe he wasn’t witnessing her running away with another man. Maybe he was witnessing her abduction. Maybe the biker was actually some psycho killer.”

  He let go of me and scratched at the stubble along his jaw. “Can’t deny it’s a possibility.”

  “Maybe Ferris could give us a description,” I said, my words sounding insane even to me.

  “True. But my gut says we handle this with care.”

  “Care? The police need to search for my mom. Find her body. You think Ferris had something to do with her disappearance, but Ferris runs this town. Every permit, every land-grab goes through his hands. If he was worried about construction workers unearthing a body, he wouldn’t have let anyone build near that place.” I didn’t know who I was trying to convince more. Me? Or JC? I didn’t trust Ferris as far as I could bowl him.

  JC grimaced. “You have a point.”

  “And why hide a body but then leave these?” I lifted the purse and the necklace.

  “All I’m saying is play your cards close to your chest. I know it’s your mom and your life, but you’ve been away a long time.”

  “But the town is totally different,” I said.

  “Only on the surface,” he said, his tone dark.

  I stared at the shriveled purse. I remembered sneaking into this purse to steal Avon samples, tiny lipsticks, perfumes and body lotions. I raided Mom’s chewing gum and pillaged her colored pens, and she’d always act like she didn’t notice. It wasn’t until years later that I realized she probably put those in there for me to find.

  Another set of headlights illuminated my front window, making me jump.

  JC peeked out the blinds, crispy with dust. “Oh, good, she’s finally here.” He scooped up the purse and necklace and stuffed them back in the sack, then pitched them in a high empty cabinet above my fridge and pressed his finger over his lips.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  His deep-set eyes bored into me. “The necklace was junk jewelry and you don’t recognize it. Got it?”

  “Sure. Who’s here?”

  His face softened. “My wife, Kim. Keep to the story. Two people can keep a secret better than five. We don’t know what the truth is and I’d just as soon keep my family out of it.”

  “Fair point.” I willed my game face.

  Josh burst through my front door arms laden with brown grocery sacks. “Mom and Keith have more,” he said. “Dad? Was it the matching necklace?”

  “No, Son. Some cheap tin thing. Better luck with diving for golf balls,” he said.

  “But Dad it, looked like—”

  “It did look like my necklace,” I intercepted. “Electroplated fake. Real common when I was a kid. Thanks for thinking of me, though,” I said, my lies burning from my tongue to my stomach.

  “Sorry,” he said. “It looked so real.”

  “That it did,” I said, my voice tight. “What’s this?” I asked, speaking as normally as possible even as my mind beat against its cage.

  “Mom’s extras.” Josh unpacked all kinds of fresh produce onto my counter—tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, lemons, and oranges.

  “Is this all for me?”

  He nodded.

  I had no idea how I was going to eat all of it before it ruined, but that was a good problem to have. A moment later, a pixie brunette with rich olive skin entered my living room carrying a stack of bright blue glass bowls.

  JC said, “This is my wife, Kimberly. She offloads all her extras from our garden, and invades people’s homes and redecorates.”

  Kim rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him. I don’t.”

  JC chuckled and kissed her cheek. “The woman speaks the truth. She doesn’t listen to me.”

  Kim set out two large blown glass bowls on my counter and sorted fruits into one and vegetables into another with the fanfare of an artist. “You’ll love these. Fresh grown. All organic. No GMOs.”

  “And that’s good,” I said.

  “Have you seen the picture of those lab rats that ate nothing but Monsanto?” She shuddered.

  “What’s Monsanto?” I asked, but my gaze kept shifting to the cabinet over my fridge.

  “Don’t worry. She’ll print the article for you.” JC fished a cold beer out of one of the bags.

  Kim shot him an annoyed stare. “GMOs are evil Frankenfood. Anyway, all this produce is safe. No pesticides, herbicides, gene therapy or irradiation and I already washed all of it for you.”

  For a moment, I wondered what she’d say about the Vienna sausages I’d been living off for almost a yea
r. Kim stretched up on her toes to give JC a kiss then turned to me. “I own the Designs by Kimberly Boutique off Main. Hope you don’t mind. I brought you some of the extra stuff from my store. Samples from vendors, mismatches. You know. Make this place feel a little less…” She struggled.

  “The Hills Have Eyes?” I offered.

  “You said it, not me. But I would have thought more Texas Chainsaw Massacre .” She smiled shyly.

  JC ribbed her. “Kim, inside words staying inside?” he spoke between clenched teeth.

  I shrugged. “Life’s too short. I have a special fondness for people who get to the point.”

  Keith brought in another box as Kim unloaded colorful dishes onto my counter. “These were part of the Mediterranean collection.” She hugged a plate to her chest, wistful. “This collection was one of my faves. No idea why they discontinued it. Two sets came with broken pieces so they’re mismatched, but don’t worry. Shabby-chic is very trendy.” She opened my cabinets and backed away coughing and waving her hand in front of her face. “I see you already bleached these.”

  “Got a little carried away.”

  “Oh, honey. Not enough bleach in the world to disinfect this place.”

  “Should I be calling the CDC?” I asked.

  JC unwrapped dishes and glasses and handed them to Kim. “Don’t listen to her. She’s a bleach addict too. I had to ban her from buying it because she used so much she made me allergic.”

  “True. I did,” she confessed. “Check out his eyes. Already red. Wimp.” She grinned and elbowed him in the ribs.

  JC offered me a beer, but Kim snatched it away. “Don’t drink that. I brought you this.” She lifted a bottle of merlot from one of the bags, cradling it.

  “How much stuff do you have in there? You’re like Mary Poppins,” I said.

  “People say that a lot.” She pulled a wine tool from her pocket and uncorked the bottle in two swift motions, poured our glasses, and then re-corked the bottle with a fancy little wine-topper that resembled a tiny cubism sculpture made of colored glass.

  “My wife’s a bit of a wine snob,” JC said and set the pack of beers in the fridge. He backed away, gagging.

  “Sorry. Wasn’t expecting company.” I stuffed my hands in my apron.

  “It’s fine,” JC replied as he stood near the open kitchen window for fresh air.

  Kim swirled the merlot in her glass expertly then took a sip. “My husband is a Neanderthal. Drinks Bud Light,” she said with a dramatic shiver.

  JC swirled his beer bottle and sniffed. “Hmmm, an earthy undertone of barley, hops, and testosterone.”

  “He thinks he’s funny.” Kim opened a Zip-Lock bag of flatware and sorted them into a new plastic drawer organizer. “JC tells me y’all went to school together.”

  “We did. Sort of. JC was a few years ahead of me.” I sipped the wine and my head started to feel warm and light within moments. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had wine and Kim definitely brought the good stuff.

  “How did you two not date?” Kim asked, her glance going from me to JC. “You aren’t related, are you?”

  JC shrugged. “She was Cotton Ferris’ girl. None of us were brave enough to steal her away.”

  Cotton Ferris. That was a name from a million lifetimes ago. I began to ask JC where he was, what he was doing, but something in his expression warned me to let it go.

  Kim saved me from myself when she blurted, “We know you’re in a bad spot, and we’ll help any way we can. That is so terrible what your ex-fiancé did to you. I’d shoot the bastard if I ever found him,” she said as Keith entered the kitchen with a cardboard box.

  “Shoot what bastard?” Keith said.

  Kim gave him a stern motherly stare. “None of your beeswax.”

  “I’ll unload the pillows,” he groused and skulked back outside, slamming the screen door behind him.

  “How did you—?” I began.

  JC made a face. “Your sister. She told us everything.” He glared at his wife and said, “Real smooth, Kim. That was supposed to be between you and me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Romi’s smart. Bisby’s small and holds no secrets,” she said, but I was beginning to realize Kim was very wrong. This town held a lot of secrets. Secrets now being dug up. Secrets someone might want to keep buried. Again, I found myself staring at the upper cabinet with my mother’s belongings wanting JC and his family to stay but simultaneously wishing they’d leave.

  Kim rummaged through the new box Keith delivered and unfolded what resembled a giant fitted sheet made of heavy material with swirls of bright turquoise and deep blue. She handed the lump of material and two spray bottles to Josh as he entered the kitchen. “Please go hose every inch of that monstrosity then, vacuum and cover it before we all go blind from ugly. Then use the rest of the spray on all the carpets and bring in the cleaner head. Oh, and then help your brother unload the lamps and take the old ones out. We’ll offload them at donation station.”

  Josh nodded, and I had no idea how he heard his mother’s instructions since I could hear Eminem pumping from his ear buds.

  “Excuse me? What’s that?” I asked Kim and pointed to Josh who was liberally hosing my sofa.

  “Bed bug killer. Don’t worry. It’s all organic and non-toxic, except for the bugs. Shrivels those little suckers into Rice Krispies.”

  I must have looked horrified because she hastily added, “And that’s why I brought over our old Kirby. Josh’ll vacuum those suckers right up. That vac has the power of a jet engine. Then I’ll get him to clean your carpet. Will be interesting to see what color it actually is.” She made a face.

  JC hugged Kim. “That’s how we met. She knocked on my door. Only cost me a twenty-five-hundred-dollar vacuum cleaner to get her to go out with me.”

  “Bugs?” I asked, still fixated on what might be crawling in my couch.

  “You’re fine. The Kirby will clean that couch down to its guts and we’ll toss the bag to be on the safe side,” Kim said. “And that’s a slip-cover for your sofa. Unless you really want to look at that burnt orange nightmare.”

  “Not particularly. Hey, you have any more of that bed bug stuff? They left a mattress…”

  “No. You’re so not sleeping on that thing.” She patted JC lovingly on the arm. “Honey, would you haul that mattress out to your truck? She cannot sleep on that.” She lowered her voice. “You and I both know why.”

  “Why?” I said. I’d been looking forward to sleeping on something other than a thin sleeping bag.

  JC smiled. “Trust us. The mattress needs to be burned.”

  Suddenly it sank in. “Let me guess. That’s where the uh, former tenant…”

  “Expired. Yeah,” JC said sheepishly.

  “At least they were good enough to remove the sheets.” I shuddered. Certain my face was green, I said, “I’ll sleep on the couch.” I drained the last of my wine and thought of what Heather had said about the former tenant moving on. I guessed she didn’t want to spook me by telling me the former occupant had died here.

  “Only for tonight,” Kim assured me, and poured me another glass before I could decline. “I’ll have my crew deliver you a futon in the morning and I have the cutest coverlet and pillows that go with it. You do like blue, I hope.” She grinned and I wanted to tuck her in my pocket and keep her.

  “Kim, I can’t pay you for—”

  She waved me off. “We’d be insulted if you tried. The futon was for guests and we finally upgraded to a double bed. We were planning to donate the futon even though no one’s ever slept on it if that makes you feel better.”

  It did.

  Kim and JC were an amazing team. I’d never seen people work so fast and have so much fun doing it. Were Phil and I ever that way? I wondered. Then I realized we weren’t even close. From the outside, no one would have known we were even a couple and that had always made me ache inside, but I’d believed that Phil was more than a girl like me could dream for. As I watched Kim and JC I
realized what I’d wanted all along. It had less to do with money and comfort and more to do with belonging, being a team. Being better as a couple than apart.

  We laughed, drank wine, ate fruit, cheese and fresh bread and hauled out all the rotting junk from the former tenant, including the Mattress of Death. Kim tore down all the dusty dry-rotted blinds and JC installed new ones from his store with expert speed. I stood in the living room, awed.

  “Better?” Kim asked.

  “It’s amazing. Almost…cheerful.” They’d transformed the horrid orange couch into a soft bed of sea foam and turquoise pillows. Kim draped a rich navy throw blanket over the edge with the same skill as a woman who knew how to wear a scarf fashionably.