Hard Eight

I went still, hoping not to show emotion. Truth is, he knocked the air out of my lungs. And he sent a stab of revulsion into me that sickened my stomach. I’d expected he’d say something about the photos. I hadn’t expected this. “I guess you need to pull these idiot pranks to compensate for the fact that you’re not having any success at locating Evelyn,”

I said. “She’s got something you want and you can’t get your hands on it, can you?”

Now it was Abruzzi’s turn to go still. For a single terrifying moment I thought he was going to hit me. Then his composure returned, and the blood rushed back into his face.

“You’re a stupid little bitch,” he said.

“Yep,” I said. “And I’m your worst nightmare.” Okay, it was sort of a hokey movie line, but I’ve always wanted to say it. “And I’m not impressed with the rabbit thing. It was clever the first time when you carted Soder into my apartment, but it’s getting tired.”

“You said you liked bunnies,” Abruzzi said. “Don’t you like them anymore?”

“Get a life,” I said. “Find yourself a new hobby.”

And I turned on my heel and stalked off.

Lula was waiting at the mouth of the tunnel that led to our seats. “What’d you say to him?”

“I told him to let it ride on Peaches’ Dream in the fourth.”

“The hell you did,” Lula said. “Not often you see a man turn white like that.”

By the time I got to my seat my knees were knocking together, and my hands were shaking so bad I was having a hard time hanging onto my program.

“Jeez,” Lula said, “you aren’t having a heart attack or anything, are you?”

“I’m okay,” I said. “It’s the excitement of the horse racing.”

“Yeah, I figured that was it.”

A hysterical giggle escaped from my mouth. “It’s not like Abruzzi scares me.”

“Sure, I know that,” Lula said. “Nothing scares you. You’re a big badass bounty hunter.”

“Damn right,” I said. And then I concentrated on not hyperventilating.

**********************

“WE SHOULD DO this more often,” Lula said, getting out of my car, unlocking the Trans Am.

She was parked on the street in front of the office. The office was closed, but the new bookstore in the house next door was open. Lights were on, and I could see Maggie Mason unpacking boxes in the window.

“I had a setback in the last race,” Lula said, “but aside from that I had a very good day. I just let it ride. Next time we could go to Freehold, and then we don’t have to worry about running into you know who.”

Lula drove off, but I stayed. I was like Evelyn now. On the run. No place safe to settle. For lack of something better, I went to the movies. Halfway through the movie I got up and left. I got into my car, and I went home. I parked in the lot, and I didn’t allow myself to hesitate behind the wheel. I got out of the CR-V, beeped it locked, and walked straight to the back door that led to the lobby. I took the elevator to the second floor, marched down the hall, and unlocked the door to my apartment. I took a deep breath and stepped inside. It was very quiet. And dark.

I flipped the lights on… every single light I owned. I walked room to room, avoiding the cootie couch. I went back to the kitchen, removed six cookies from the bag of frozen chocolate chip cookies, and put them on a cookie sheet. I popped them into the oven and stood there, waiting. Five minutes later, the house smelled like homemade cookies. Bolstered by cookie fumes, I marched into the living room and looked at the couch. The couch looked fine. No stains. No dead body imprint.

You see, Stephanie, I said to myself. The couch is okay. No reason to be creeped out by the couch.

Hah! An invisible Irma whispered in my ear. Everyone knows you can’t see death cooties. Take my word for it, that couch has the biggest, fattest death cooties that ever existed. That couch has the mother of all death cooties.