Sunset Beach(105)
Forkner pursed his lips and examined the passbook again. He handed it back to the clerk, gave a slight nod of his head, then slithered back to his office.
Colleen placed the train case on the counter, popped the lock and gave Christopher a naughty little wink. “Big bills, please.”
As he was stacking the paper-banded stacks of bills in the case, she remembered the business envelope she’d stuck in her pocketbook just before leaving the office. She took it out, removed her last paycheck and endorsed the back. “This too, please,” she said sweetly.
* * *
Vera Rennick was ridiculously pleased when Colleen asked her to go shopping that afternoon. Her coworker was the closest thing she had to a real girlfriend, and Colleen felt almost guilty about making her an unwitting accomplice to her escape plan.
“I’d love to,” Vera said, her face flushed with happiness. “But I promised to stay late for one of my regular patients. Can you wait ’til after two?”
“Okay,” Colleen said. She had plenty of time until her bus left.
When the office closed, Colleen suggested they drive her car over to Maas Brothers. “It’s too hot to walk,” Colleen explained. “And anyway, I’ve had my eye on a new outfit, and I don’t want to have to haul it all the way back here.”
“Good idea,” Vera agreed.
She parked the Camaro on the second level of the parking deck, feeling only slightly anxious about the train case she’d locked in the trunk.
Shopping always relaxed Colleen, especially now that she felt no compunction about actually buying whatever the hell she wanted.
The yellow sundress was on end-of-season clearance sale, and Vera agreed it was a steal. “It fits like a dream,” she said, watching enviously as Colleen handed over the pale blue Maas Brothers charge card. They took the escalator down to the first-floor shoe department, where Colleen found a pair of yellow patent leather platform sandals that looked like they’d been designed to go with the sundress, and then, back upstairs to juniors’ sportswear, for a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt designer jeans and a slinky print top.
“I’d kill for a pair of those jeans,” Vera commented, when Colleen emerged from the dressing room to model her purchases. “Won’t Allen blow a gasket when he sees how much you spent today?”
Colleen shrugged. “He’ll get over it. Come on, let’s go get an early dinner.”
Vera grimaced. “I promised my sister I’d babysit tonight.”
“It’s just now five,” Colleen said. “And the store closes at six. Come on, it’ll be fun. My treat!”
She hardly had to twist the girl’s arm. Vera ordered the club sandwich and Colleen had the chicken salad plate, and at Colleen’s insistence, they each had a glass of Chablis.
“This has been so much fun,” Vera said, giggling as she gathered her things to leave. “But I really have to scoot now. We should do this more often. Especially the wine part!” She took a five-dollar bill from her billfold, but Colleen waved the money away. “My treat, remember?”
“Okay,” Vera said, rising. “Have a great weekend. See you Monday.”
Her bus to Atlanta wasn’t leaving until seven-thirty. Colleen ordered another glass of Chablis, gulped it down and paid again with her credit card. Then she went into the ladies’ room and changed into the tight-fitting new designer jeans and platform heels. She pulled a floppy-brimmed straw hat from her pocketbook and tucked her long hair beneath it. At the last minute, she took off her bra and put it in her pocketbook, enjoying the sensation of the silky fabric against her bare breasts, as well as the thought that Allen would have been apoplectic about her walking around braless in public.
When she got to the orange Camaro she unlocked the trunk and removed the train case, flipping the lid just to make sure her runaway money, as she’d come to think of it, was intact. All was well. She folded the new dress, still in the shopping bag, on top of the cash. She opened the driver’s-side door and placed the clothes she’d been wearing, including her bra and pantyhose, carefully folded, on the bucket seat. She tossed the shoes she’d worn onto the floor and thought for a moment. And then she had a flash of genius.
Allen enjoyed inflicting pain, so maybe she’d hurt him a little, as a parting gesture. She took the nail scissors she always carried and carefully punctured the tip of her right index finger, squeezing with her left hand, spattering droplets of blood onto her clothes and the seat, even smearing some on the steering wheel. For good measure, she slashed the pantyhose and bra, smearing blood on them too. All in all, it made for a ghastly little crime scene. It also made her a little light-headed, so she sat in the Camaro for a good ten minutes, waiting to regain her equilibrium.
When she emerged from the parking deck onto Second Avenue, she donned a pair of oversize Jackie O sunglasses and set off down the street, swinging the train case. With each swaggering step she took her mood lightened.
Colleen was standing at the corner, waiting for the light to turn, when a car pulled up to the curb. She heard a voice call her name, and when she glanced over, found she was staring down the barrel of a gun. “Get in,” the voice said.
49
The Gulf Vista security guard, who was so young it appeared he might have bought his uniform and badge at Toys “R” Us, had difficulty opening the sliding-glass door in Room 133, outside of which Drue was gloomily perched on a cheap plastic chair.