Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [104]
Yellow crime scene tape still floated from the back door, and the light just inside still burned. Dolores unlocked the back door and stepped into the quiet of the shop.
There was the smallest spot of red-brown on the floor inside the outline that marked where Connie’s body had lain. Dolores stood staring at it, unable to look away, rubbing the ring between her fingers as if trying to conjure up her lost friend. When her fingers were all but raw, she went to the receptionist desk and sat down, staring into space.
She spun around and around in the chair mindlessly, trying not to think. Trying to push it all away. Trying to pretend that it was all a bad dream. On one of her spins around she saw a newspaper folded up on the shelf near the hair care products, where Connie must have left it. Funny place to leave the paper . . .
Dolores got up and went to the display and pulled the paper out from between the rows of hair spray and gel and conditioners and took it back to the desk. She opened the paper and spread it out flat, skimmed the stories on the page.
In the lower left corner was a drawing of a necklace that looked an awful lot like hers. She sat down and read the accompanying article.
Stunned, she put a hand on her chest. Her heart was pounding so badly she thought she was going to pass out.
Taking the paper, she grabbed her purse and left the shop.
As she locked the back doors, she could see their faces in her mind’s eye.
Connie, her best friend.
Vinnie, her lover.
How could it be that one might have murdered the other?
And just what was she going to do about it?
Dolores drove around the block three times before pulling into her driveway, just to make sure that Vinnie’s car was not parked out back or along the side yard. Convinced that he was not there, she parked as close to the back door as she could. Once inside, she ran up the steps to her room, threw open the closet door, and pulled out the suitcase. She tried not to pack haphazardly, but the thought that he might come through that door any minute now had her totally unnerved. The hell with it. She’d take just a few things, her jewelry, one pair of shoes, some underwear, and the box containing the pendant. She snapped the lid closed and dragged it down the steps and out the door. She opened the trunk and slid it inside, then went back into the house.
“Cujo?” she called as she ran down the basement steps, looking for the cat carrier.
Hearing his name, Cujo sauntered out from under the dining room table and rubbed up against her legs.
“No time, sugar,” she whispered as if afraid to be overheard.
She picked up the cat, tucked him inside the crate and lugged it outside, where she slid it across the backseat. One more thing, and she’d be gone. Cat food, cat dish, cat toys, cat treats, all into a grocery bag.
“What the hell am I doing?” She laughed nervously. “Packing more for the cat than I did for myself . . .”
Back out to the car with the cat bag.
What else? she demanded of herself. What else . . . ?
Nothing else. You’re fine. Leave. Get out of here.
She dug in her pocket for her keys, then realized she’d left them and her purse on the dining room table. She ran, tripping up the steps and over her own two feet.
Calm down, she laughed crazily. Calm down. Done. It’s done. Just go.
Go . . .
She got her balance and went into the dining room. She had just swung her purse over her shoulder when she heard the back door close. She froze where she stood.
“Dolores?” Vinnie called from the kitchen. “Dee? You there?”
“In the dining room.” She ran her dry tongue over her suddenly dry lips.
“Hey, you’re up, you’re dressed. You must be feeling a little better today.” He dropped his keys into a dish on the sideboard, a habit he’d developed the first night he’d spent there.
“A little.” She nodded her head. “Like you said, I have to move on.”
He drew her into his arms, and it was all she could do not to scream when