Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [55]
She ordered a brandy and soda from the bartender, whose expression said he knew this girl named Louise only too well and didn’t think much of her.
Jeanine turned away from them and focused on the bottle of beer in front of her. The tap on her shoulder startled her. She looked up into Allan’s face. “Hey, glad you came back,” he said.
“Oh, hi.”
“You’re with your friend again.”
“Mitzi. Her name’s Mitzi.” She realized that her voice was shaky. He was leaning against her; she could smell aftershave or cologne, and beer on his breath.
“Buy you a beer?” he asked.
“I already have one. Thank you.”
Jeanine split her attention between him and the conversation Mitzi was having with Louise. “I get by,” she heard Louise say, “doin’ a little of this, a little of that. I don’t see you in here much.”
“We don’t come much,” Mitzi said. “Our parents—” She didn’t want to appear to be an overprotected white girl.
“Feel like a walk?” Allan asked Jeanine.
“Oh, I don’t know. I—”
“You lookin’ for some good weed?” she heard Louise ask Mitzi.
“I don’t think so. We have some.”
“Good weed, the best, better than what you get on the street. I got some snow, too.”
“Snow?”
“Coke. The Big C. Snort it up. Take you up to heaven.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. But thanks.”
“Come on,” Allan said to Jeanine. “Let’s get some air.”
Jeanine indicated Mitzi. “I’m with my friend and—”
“What, she can’t be alone for a few minutes?”
She liked his deep voice.
“So?” he said. The feel of his hand on her bare arm was blissful.
She said to Mitzi, “I’m going out for some air. It’s stuffy in here.”
Mitzi gave her a knowing smile, which prompted Jeanine to punch her arm before getting up and following Allan outside. They walked through rows of cars until reaching a secluded corner of the lot where a metallic-blue Mustang convertible was parked. “It’s mine,” Allan said.
“It’s beautiful. My father is into cars. He has six of them.”
“He must have some loot, huh?”
“He’s—he’s a businessman.”
“Yeah? So am I.”
“It must be exciting discovering new talent. Is there anyone I know who you—?”
His answer was to pull her to him and kiss her hard on the mouth. She struggled against him as he ground his pelvis against hers.
“Hey, cut it out,” he said as she pulled back. “Come on, you want it. You know you do. Get in the car.”
“No, I won’t. I’m going back inside.”
One hand went to her throat. He pushed her back against the car, her head pressing into the soft convertible top. With his other hand he reached into his pocket. He withdrew a switchblade knife and clicked it open, held it up in front of her eyes. “Don’t make me use this, baby. Just get in the car and—”
Jeanine brought her knee up into his groin. He grunted and doubled over but continued his grip on her neck. The knife came up again, this time the point of its blade was at her throat. “No!” she shouted as she grasped his wrist and twisted with all her strength. Now the knife was pointed at his midsection. She pushed against it and felt it cut through his skin and penetrate his chest cavity.
“Jeanine!” a female voice shouted.
Jeanine heard Mitzi but was too shocked to respond. She felt as though all life had been drained from her. She leaned back against the car as he slid down, his hands on her in search of something to grab, down to his knees, and then keeled over to one side.
“Jeanine!” Mitzi said again as she arrived at her friend’s side. “What—?”
Jeanine collapsed against Mitzi, who kept her from falling.
“Oh, shit!” Louise Watkins said.
Jeanine looked down at her pale blue blouse, which was stained with his blood. Her hands shook uncontrollably and her breath came in spasms.
“We have to call the police,” Mitzi said.
“No,” Jeanine said. “I can’t—”
Louise bent over the body. She grabbed the knife and pulled it from him. “Got to get rid of this,” she said, more to herself than to them.
“Please, let’s go,” Jeanine said. “It was an accident. He tried to rape me.”
She leaned on Mitzi as they headed for their car. Louise followed, muttering about not wanting trouble. When they reached the car, Mitzi