Dovetail: A Novel(77)
“Never heard of it.”
“You never heard of Flashdance? Really? It was a big deal. Came out this spring.”
“Well, that explains it. I was an inpatient at Trendale at the time.”
As they were finishing their wine, the opening notes of Lionel Richie’s “Truly” came over the speakers. Joe took Kathleen’s hand and led her out to the dance floor with a confidence he didn’t even know he had. “Pretty smooth, Arneson,” she said as they began to sway back and forth. “I can tell you’ve done this before.”
He said, “I’ve imagined dancing with you a million times.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
1983
Ricky parked down the street from Kathleen’s house and hunched down in the front seat, watching and waiting and eventually being rewarded when Joe and Kathleen came out the front door. He noticed the weird clothing that pansy-ass Joe wore and snickered. Kathleen had on some odd old-timey dress too, but at least she looked good in it.
While he waited for them to get into Joe’s truck, he double-checked the glove compartment to make sure his black ski mask and handgun were right where he’d left them.
They pulled away from the curb, and he followed at a respectable distance. Once they’d arrived and entered the Barn Dance, he reached over to the passenger-side floor mat and grabbed the plastic bottle he’d filled with water before leaving Lorraine Whitt’s house.
Ricky casually got out of the car, bottle in hand, and nodded to a couple walking past. Nonchalantly, he strode over to Joe’s truck, unscrewed the gas cap, and poured the water into the tank. Afterward, he quickly screwed the cap back on, tossing the bottle into the weeds and heading toward the barn, smiling. Joe’s truck wasn’t going to get too far, and once they were stuck, he could enact the plan in which he was Kathleen’s savior. He’d thought it through, and it went like this: either Joe would leave her in the truck and walk for help, or both of them would leave the truck and walk together. Either way, Joe was going to come to a bad end when a masked gunman robbed and attacked him, coming out of the woods, seemingly from nowhere.
And who would reconnect with Kathleen once Joe was dead or in the hospital? He would. He’d show up just when she needed him most, sans beard, of course. After what happened to Joe, she’d be traumatized and in need of a protector, and Ricky was good at that. His size alone made women feel safe. He’d say that he’d tracked her down through one of her friends and had a dream that she was in danger, drove across the country nonstop to get to her side. Kathleen was trusting. She’d believe him.
He thought of every possible scenario and decided that unless some interfering Good Samaritan came along, his plan was a sure thing.
Just to play it safe, Ricky waited another fifteen minutes in the parking lot before going inside. The entrance fee was ridiculous. Three dollars, and for what? A joke of a DJ and decorations that looked like they’d been designed by high school students. The beverages cost extra too. At least the snacks were free.
Ricky got himself a can of Schlitz and a handful of pretzels. He stood with his back to the wall and surveyed the room, looking for Kathleen. He’d purposely worn his gray-tinted sunglasses. The lenses were light enough not to look too odd worn indoors but dark enough to obscure his identity. Between the sunglasses, beard, and the baseball cap, he was fairly certain Kathleen wouldn’t recognize him.
When he finally caught sight of Kathleen, she was slow dancing with Joe, her body pressed right up against his, cheek resting on his shoulder, eyes closed. He watched, feeling anger build until rage threatened to overtake his body. Ricky dropped the remaining pretzel, and his fingers tightened at his side. He could almost envision the sound of his fist as it slammed against Joe’s jaw. That wuss would be no match for a real man. Ricky could pulverize him in no time at all.
He wanted to take those cheesy suspenders and wrap them around Joe’s throat, tightening and tightening until Joe couldn’t breathe, and then, once the loser had passed out, he’d finish him off by grabbing his jaw and snapping his neck.
But if he did that right now, he’d look like a monster to Kathleen.
Ricky took a deep breath and willed himself to look elsewhere, glancing around the barn and finally settling on a woman pushing a boy in a wheelchair around the perimeter of the crowd. One of the wheels was askew, and she had to keep shifting it constantly to get it to work smoothly. The boy’s head lolled to one side. Why the woman even bothered to bring him Ricky didn’t know. If it were up to him, he’d leave the kid at home. She was probably one of those martyr types who thought her good deeds would earn her a crown in heaven.
Ha. She wished.
The truth of it was that there was nothing after death but a black void. That was the reason Ricky went for what he wanted every single time. This life, this moment, was all there was. Grab and get it while the getting is good. The idea of a heavenly reward was a myth for the stupid and gullible.
Watching the woman and her boy distracted him for the better. His anger subsided; his heart rate slowed.
A young woman came up to him. “Hello there.” Her hair was feathered and curled, her white T-shirt sheer enough that he could see the black lace bra underneath. When he glanced down, he noticed her mouth was shiny with lip gloss. She said, “Are you here by yourself?”