Red - Jack Ketchum [27]
Betty nodded but then just stood there a moment in front of his desk.
“Mr. Cleek? May I say something?”
“Of course, Betty. What is it?”
He wondered if she knew how cute she looked when her brow got all furrowed like that.
“It’s none of my business, really. But in this economy, are you sure you aren’t…”
“Overextending?”
He’d considered it. If some downturn in his stocks hit him big time or if somebody in his family got seriously ill he could be in a bit of trouble here. It was possible. Betty probably knew his finances better than Belle did, so he could understand her concern. But Dean’s asking price was ridiculously low.
Well, it had gotten ridiculously low after their little chat over lunch today.
“I’m sure, Betty. Don’t you worry. That’s a nice perfume by the way. New, is it?”
She was cute when she blushed too.
“You like it?”
“It’s very nice.”
“Thanks!”
It was then that she finally noticed the bandage. Hell it was a big bandage. She reached out for his hand.
“What in the lord’s name did you do to yourself, Mr. Cleek?”
Her hands were very soft and smooth. Then she seemed to realize she’d committed a tiny little indiscretion here. She released him.
He held up his finger as though inspecting it.
“Got too close to a pretty-smelling lady and she just…”
He snapped his teeth together. Chomp.
Betty laughed, shook her head at him as if to say, you big kidder, you and turned to walk away.
Hide in plain sight, his father used to say.
Well, some things, anyway.
FOURTEEN
There were times Belle thought her daughter acted like a little puppy and this was one of them, Darlin’ standing right beside her hip, impatient as a puppy at feeding time while she whipped the cookie batter. She turned off the mixer and tilted back the beaters and then decided to tease her.
She unlocked the one of the beaters and tapped it on the bowl. Then ran a finger along one side. Tasted it. Mmmmmm, she said.
“Hey!”
“What?”
“Gimme some!”
“Now is that a nice way to ask?”
“Please, momma? I love you!”
“That’s much better.”
She leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek and handed her the beater. Darlin’ sat down and went to work.
“Can we make the little men?”
She pulled a cookie cutter out of the drawer. An elephant.
“This one?”
“No.”
A dinosaur next. “This one?”
“No.”
Then a bird. “How about this one?”
“Noooooooo!”
And finally the one she wanted all along. The gingerbread man. Even if they were vanilla cookies.
“Yes!”
Darlin’ fished the last of the cookie batter off the beater with the tip of her pinky.
“Do you think that animal lady will eat a little man?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s ever had a cookie before.”
“Why’s the lady here?”
“Papa’s helping her. You heard him.”
“Can I have the other one now?”
“Sure, honey.”
She tapped the second beater free of loose batter and handed it to her daughter. Conversation closed. She thought, well, that was easy.
~ * ~
In the morning the man has removed the broken bowl and what little the mice have left behind and hauled her upright again. There is very little slack but some. She works her wrists back and forth trying to loosen the bolts but they have remained solid and unyielding and she has been at this all day, so that her wrists are raw. She has tried steady pressure. She has tried sudden jerks. All she has attained are bleeding wrists. She accepts the pain and tries again.
She senses something and stops, listens. There is someone at the door. The sliver of afternoon sunlight at the bottom of the door flickers with movement. She scents the air.
It is not the man. The man wears a scent of flowers and musk. She stands silent and a moment passes. No one enters. Then she hears voices, the woman’s voice far away and angry — and then the boy’s voice, defensive, just outside the door.
She thinks she knows why he has been here.
~ * ~
“Brian! Young man? What do you think