After Midnight

About halfway there, I swung onto a little sidestreet. I pulled over and stopped the car in front of a house that had a For Sale sign on the front lawn. The house looked empty. Across the street was a vacant lot. Looking all around, I saw nobody.

So I grabbed one of the legs that I’d cut off Tony’s jeans last night and climbed out of the car. With the denim leg, I wiped the exterior door handles and everywhere else that I might’ve touched.

Then I climbed in and did the interior.

Then I double-checked the whole car, inside and out, to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. Judy’s purse was still on the floor, partly hidden under the driver’s seat. Fine. It could stay there.

Satisfied that I’d removed every trace of myself (to the extent that it can be done in a few minutes with a rag), I tossed both the legs into my grocery bag, started up the car again, and drove the rest of the way to the mall.

Plenty of other cars were coming and going.

I entered a parking lot over on the Macy’s side of the complex, found an empty space, pulled in and shut off the engine.

Just for the heck of it, I left Judy’s key in the ignition.

I wiped off the keys and key case, the shift handle and the steering wheel.

My purse and grocery bag were on the front passenger seat. Leaning sideways, I grabbed them.

I climbed out of Judy’s car. Purse hanging by my side, I set down the bag. Then I looked around. Several people were in sight, some heading toward mall entrances, others returning to their cars. None paid any attention to me.

With one of the denim legs, I cleaned the interior door handle.

Then I flopped the leg back into the sack, hoisted the sack off the pavement, stepped out of the way, and flung the door shut with my knee.

Even as the door thunked, I realized that I’d forgotten to lock it.

I’d meant to lock it.

But this is better.

Leave it unlocked, key in the ignition.

With any luck, some creep might come along and steal the thing.

Walking away from Judy’s car, I couldn’t help but smile.

41

GOING HOME

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to fear.

As soon as I walked away from Judy’s car, I felt hugely, enormously, wonderfully free.

I was done!

I’d severed my last major connection with the series of accidents and/or crimes that had started last night when I killed Tony. Sure, I still had possession of a few items such as the money and autographed book, but nothing that could draw me in as a suspect.

I was, as they say, “home free.”

But several miles from home.

I started to hike across the parking lot, the grocery sack clutched to my chest. It was heavy enough that I needed to hold it with both hands.

Gonna be a long hike.

I hadn’t walked very far, though, before I noticed that many of the kids roaming across the lot were carrying book bags on their backs.

Just what I needed!

Instead of striking out for home, I made a detour into the mall.

It was good to be in such a familiar place. Rarely a week ever went by that I didn’t visit the mall at least once. I would spend a couple of hours there, just wandering, browsing through the stores, having a nice lunch at the food court. It was a quiet, pleasant place—and just about the only place in town worth going to, except for the cineplex.

Wandering the mall, a person can pretty much stay anonymous.

Pretty much but not completely.

If you visit the same shops or food stands time after time, certain employees will start to recognize you. They have no way to learn your name unless you introduce yourself or pay with a credit card or check, but some are bound to know your face.

Some might even know it well enough to wonder how come, today, I was wearing a bright red wig.

So my first stop, after entering the mall, was the ladies’ restroom.

As I understand it, California has a law against security cameras in toilet cubicles. You can’t blow your nose in this state without breaking the criminal code, but this is one law I really go for. I mean, you don’t want some horny degenerate of a security guard watching you on TV while you’re doing your stuff, if you get my meaning.

They’re allowed to spy on you with hidden cameras just about everywhere else, but not when you’re in a stall.

So that’s where I went.

First, I availed myself of the toilet since it happened to be there anyway and it didn’t look hideous. Unbelievable as this may seem, the last person using this public toilet had actually flushed it. Not only that, but (hold on to your hat), she hadn’t left a puddle—or worse—on the seat! I was impressed and grateful.

Shit, I wanted to meet her!

Never mind.

With my purse hanging from a hook on the door and my grocery sack down on the floor, I hoisted my skirt, pulled my panties down around my ankles, and hovered a couple of inches above the seat. (Even if the seat looks clean, you sure don’t want to sit on it. You don’t even want to think about what’s been on it.)

The toilet paper dispenser, of course, turned out to be empty. Always prepared, I used some tissues from my purse.

Then I flushed the toilet.

I’ve possibly done some lousy things in my life, but I’ve always flushed after myself.

Anybody who doesn’t is nothing short of a pig.

After flushing, I pulled up my panties, stood in front of the toilet, and let my skirt drift down around my legs. Then I took off my gaudy red wig and stuffed it into the grocery sack.

Anything else I should do while I’ve got some privacy?

Of course!

It wasn’t easy to do in the confines of the toilet stall, but I bent over, reached down deep into my sack, and pulled out a few packets of cash. I transferred some denominations back and forth. Finally, I ended up with about three hundred dollars, mostly in twenties and tens. I put that money into my purse.

Then I crumpled down the top of my sack so nobody would be able to see inside. I picked it up, took my purse off the hook, unlatched the door, and stepped out of the stall.

I stopped in front of a mirror. The redhead was gone. I looked like myself again. Almost.

Nobody else was using the restroom, just then, so I set down the bag, took a brush out of my purse, and spent a couple of minutes working my hair into shape. When I was done, it still wouldn’t win any prizes. It no longer looked frightful, though.

Now that I was resuming my own identity, I fastened the upper buttons of my blouse. I also took off my big, hoop earrings and tucked them away in my purse.

All set, I picked up my grocery sack and walked out of the restroom. I strolled the length of the mall, entered J.C. Penney’s, found myself a nice green book bag (or backpack, as the case may be), and bought it with cash.

Right in front of the clerk, I removed its tags and stickers, stuffed my grocery sack inside, then swung the