Fiends

low enough in front to hide how the diaphanous nightie, drifting in the breeze, brushed against the dark tuft of hair between her legs.

    He used to make love to her, Barbara thought.

    Here, on this same bed.

    Does she know? Does she know he’s doing it to me, now, right in front of her? Is she jealous?

    Don’t be ridiculous.

    Barbara tried to shake off the notion. But couldn’t.

    At the proper moment, she faked an orgasm.

    It took a while for Darren to recover. Soon after he was breathing normally again, he whispered, ‘See, it was just fine.’

    ‘Yeah.’

    ‘She didn’t bother you at all, did she? Joyce, I mean.’

    ‘Not really.’ A lie. Why not?

    ‘I bet she made it better for you. She did for me.’

    What Barbara thought was, Oh my God. What she said was, ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

    A while later, Darren said, ‘Maybe I should turn the lights off now.’

    ‘No. Leave them on.’

    ‘You aren’t still spooked, are you?’

    ‘Just a little.’

    ‘Well, that’s all right. I’m sure she’ll take a little getting used to.’ I’ll never get used to her, Barbara told herself. Never.

***

 Soon, Darren fell asleep. Barbara tried to sleep, but her mind was in a turmoil. She’d just married a man who kept his dead wife in the bedroom. Liked her there. As much as admitted that it turned him on to have her standing nearby while he made love.

    Weird. Disgusting.

    But it calmed Barbara whenever she thought about how things would be once she’d gotten rid of Joyce. Calmed her enough so that she was almost able to fall asleep.

    Each time she started to drift, however, she lurched awake with a sickening dread and had to look. To make sure Joyce hadn’t moved, hadn’t pulled the robe off her head, hadn’t crept closer to the bed.

    The bitch seemed to be staying put.

    Of course.

    All that ever seemed to move was the nightie, blown by the breeze so it floated against her belly and pubic curls and the tops of her legs.

    When Barbara woke up, the bedroom was bright with sunlight. She’d fallen asleep after all. Somehow. In spite of Joyce.

    Joyce.

    She didn’t want to see her, fought the urge to turn her head, instead gazed at the ceiling and tried to appreciate the feel of the warm breeze caressing her body.

    I can’t spend another night in the same room with her, she thought. Just can’t. I’ve gotta make Darren listen to reason.

    She turned her head toward the other side of the bed.

    Darren was gone.

    No! What if he took his robe with him? What if she’s uncovered?

    Barbara snapped her head the other way.

    Joyce was gone.

    Gone where?

    Barbara bolted upright. Heart thudding, she scanned the room. No sign of the corpse. She blew out a shaky breath and filled her lungs with the sweet morning air.

    Not here. Maybe Darren came to his senses and…

    She went cold inside and her skin crawled with goosebumps.

    He put her under the bed!

    Moaning, she flung herself off the mattress. She rushed to the middle of the room and there, a safe distance away, dropped to her hands and knees and peered into the space beneath the bed.

    No Joyce.

    Thank God.

    But where is she? What’s Darren done with her?

    At least she’s not here. That's the main thing.

    Calming down slightly, Barbara got to her feet. She brushed some carpet lint off her hands and knees. She was still trembling, still shivery with gooseflesh.

    I can’t live like this, she thought as she returned to the bed. She put on her silk kimono, wrapped it snugly around herself and tied the sash. Then she turned toward the closet. She wanted her house slippers.

    What if Joyce is in there?

    She stared at the shut door. And decided it could stay shut. She could do without her slippers.

    Heading for the bedroom door, she noticed that her suitcase was missing. Darren must’ve taken it out to the garage.

    Maybe he’d also taken Joyce out to the garage.

    If only.

    Fat chance.

    She halted at the doorway, leaned forward and swiveled her head from side to side. The corridor looked clear. She rushed for the bathroom. Its door was open. No sign of Joyce. She entered and locked the door. Then had a few bad moments as she approached the tub. But the tub was empty. Barbara sighed, relaxed a little.

    She used the toilet, washed her face, brushed her teeth, sat on the edge of the tub and tried to work up her courage for venturing out of the sanctuary of the bathroom.

    This is crazy, she told herself. Why should I be scared of Joyce? She can’t hurt me. Can’t do anything but freak me out. And make me wonder if I’m married to a crazy man.

    He’s not crazy. He cares about her, that’s all. Can’t bear to part with her.

    Jesus H. Christ on a crutch.

    He damn well will part with her. It’s her or me.

    Right. What’ll I do? Where’ll I go? I gave up my apartment. I already quit my job, for godsake. Guess I can always find…

    Why should I be the one to leave? She’s the dead one.

    Just gotta talk to Darren. If he’ll only listen to reason and put her away someplace, everything will be okay.

    Barbara forced herself to leave the bathroom. As she walked down the corridor, someone stepped out of the bedroom. She flinched before realizing it was Darren.

    He’d already gotten dressed. He wore one of the bright red aloha shirts they’d bought on Maui. It hung loose down past the front of his Bermuda shorts. His legs looked darkly tanned above the tops of his white socks. He had his Reeboks on.

    ‘Morning!’ he said, smiling as he hurried toward her. ‘You sure slept in, didn’t you?’

    Then she was in his arms. She hugged him, kissed him. My Darren, she thought.

    He felt solid and warm and comfortable.

    When they released each other, he said, ‘I have a surprise for you.’

    ‘You’ve put Joyce in storage?’

    His smile faltered. ‘Don’t be silly. I made a trip to the doughnut shop. Maple bars!’

    He knew how she loved maple bars. But she couldn’t work up much enthusiasm as she said, ‘Oh, that’s sweet.’