Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [49]
“I’m hoping she likes it. She’s had a bad year. She lost her husband. . . .”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Marian’s face had just oozed sympathy. “Look, here’s my card. If you decide you want the pendant, you call me. I’ll open the shop tomorrow night for you.”
“Why, you’d do that for me?”
“Of course. Why not?”
“Well, then, maybe . . . Nah, you wouldn’t want to . . .”
“Want to what?”
“Well, I was just thinking . . . not to put you on the spot or anything . . .”
“What?” She leaned on the counter and smiled.
“Well, maybe . . . since it might be a little late by the time I get here . . . maybe I could take you out for a bite after we conclude our business.” He lowered his eyes, thinking it made him look shy, unassuming.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” And she actually blushed!
“But I’d like to. Unless, of course, there’s someone . . .”
“No, no.” The blush deepened.
“Then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you a call either way, let you know what I decide about the pendant, and then we’ll go . . . well, why don’t you decide where we’ll go? Someplace nice.”
“All right. I’ll do it.” Marian had looked very pleased with herself.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And if I decide against the pendant . . .”
“Yes?”
“Maybe you can show me something else that I might like.”
Vince laughed out loud in the dark room. There was just nothing in the world like a single, middle-aged woman. He could wrap any one of them around his little finger, just like that.
He figured she’d be waiting all day for his call, so he’d put it off until almost five. Using a phone card, he’d called the shop from his mobile phone and told Marian he’d be there by eight-thirty. She said she’d probably close at the regular time and come back later to meet him.
And she had. It had been all just as he’d pictured it. She was wearing a simple dress, a knit in a subtle shade of green. She’d looked nice, happily expectant. He’d wished he’d had time to play it out a little more with her, maybe have a few dates, just to see how far he could go with her, but he didn’t want to risk having anything go wrong. For one thing, she’d have time to start talking about him to her friends and family. A woman like that would be talking if she thought she had a live one, and that just wouldn’t do. This way, he was in, he was out, the deed would be done, and no one could connect him to her.
He patted himself on the back for passing on the gun. He’d really felt little satisfaction plugging the queer. It had been over just like that. Of course, having had experience with a gun in the past, he’d expected that. This last time was different, though. There’d been no burning anger, no blind rage, no real emotion to speak of as he pulled the trigger. It had just been bam! and done. Where was the fun in that? Not much fun at all.
At least Marian had been a bit more lively. His arms were stretched over his head, and he flexed his hands. The Band-Aid he’d wrapped around his right thumb pulled a little, and he loosened it. He’d somehow cut himself, wasn’t sure how. Maybe they’d ID his blood type as being different from Marian’s, maybe they wouldn’t. Not that it mattered. They’d never be able to connect him, Vinnie Daniels—or Vince Giordano, either—with this. No one had seen him going in or coming out, just like he planned. He’d been smart, all right. It had all gone so smoothly. Just right. Right down to bringing a towel and a clean change of clothes with him, and a brown paper bag to carry away the dirty ones. Somehow, he’d just known he was going to make a mess.
Oh, yeah, this had been much better than offing someone with one shot to the head.
Of course, stabbing Marian had been so much harder than shooting Derek. He rubbed his sore right shoulder. He’d had no idea of how much strength—the amount of pressure—it took to stab through to someone’s heart. You really had to push down hard on that knife. One handed, no less, since the left hand was covering her mouth when she started