Excerpt



PROLOGUE



The woman turned away from the man lying on the tile floor and whispered into the phone, Please. Listen to me. I have a particular reason for calling you.

Yes?

Its about your husband. Her gaze at the injured man was keen. Hes here in my kitchen.

If hes fooling around with you, I hope you want him. The woman at the other end didnt seem surprised to learn that her husband was in another womans house.

No...no, of course not. The pain in her wrist was so sharp from his earlier attack that she switched the phone to her other hand. Still, she had to talk with this wife. Never before had she been afforded such a unique opportunity.

Bitch, you help me up, the man snarled. His skinny legs were folded funny on the floor, his brown work shoes pointed inward like a pigeon-toed doll. The woman shuddered and pulled the phone cord to the far side of the kitchen, fighting her need to kick this man. And kick him. And kick him. Her vision blurred from the intensity of her anger and she licked her dry lips. Bile surged into her mouth forcing her to swallow it down.

Do I know you? asked the wife, her voice suspicious.

No. But that wasnt exactly true.

Her memory of their meeting was clear. She recalled how the frail wife had exposed the bruises on her chest and arms, looked directly at her and said, Theres no corner on this earth where I could hide from this son of a demon.

The woman returned, now, to the moment. Please, I think your husband is dying.

Dont I wish he was dying! Hes probably just drunk. Be careful you dont rile him. He gets awful vicious.

Why you talking to my wife? You should be calling an ambulance after what you done to me. The man tried to shout up to the phone, but his voice had grown weaker so his wife couldnt hear him. Strings of blood bubbled from one nostril, but he seemed paralyzed and unable to wipe them away.

The woman went on. I promise you. I will kill him completely as soon as Im certain you have an alibi for the time of his death. She heard a shallow gasp.

What are you talking about? The wifes voice was abrupt.

The injured man moaned. His florid, drunken face was so disgusting she looked away, remembering her rage minutes earlier. Nevertheless, she was grateful for this rare chance to be helpful to a woman she had met only once.

Where are you? The wife spoke slowly as if stalling for time to think.

Shall I call back later?

No! There was a pause. Let me think. This is Friday afternoon. Ill go someplace for the weekend. Heaven help me.

I dont want trouble. Ill say you never called. She hung up.

My...wife...comin? Slurred words drifted across the room.

The sight of him made her feel sick to her stomach. Remembering how difficult it was to lift dead weight, she sat to think the problem through until the pain in her wrist eased.

How had all this happened? Just a few hours ago, on a whim, she had hired this vagrant to do kitchen repairs and yard work. Simple-looking, standing there wearing a funny white painters cap, carrying a sign reading WORK FOR A MEAL, he had seemed all right.

But he had found a dusty bottle of brandy in her cupboard while she was out sweeping. When she had gone in to check on him he was standing in the kitchen, a swaying, brutal-looking man, eyes unfocused and mean. Before she could back away, he had lunged for her, twisting her blouse in his filthy hand, trying to kiss her mouth.

You bitch! he had snarled, when she used all her strength to push him away.

Now, a low growl came from the floor as he strained desperately, freakishly, drunkenly to move his body.

Ignoring him, she sipped some water. Smiling. It had to be more than coincidence that he had appeared on the side of the road. Like an offering. Like an apology.

His eyes were closed! Lord, dont let him have died. In a panic, she rushed over to him, frantically trying to get a pulse at his temple. She shrieked in terror when his head turned, gripping her fingers in its broken teeth. Saliva and blood from his mouth and tongue dripped onto her hand.

With a horrified sob, she beat his face until the bite loosened, then snatching her hand from the horrid mouth, she kicked viciously at his side. Stop it! Youve hurt her. I mean...

She scrubbed her hands with scouring powder at the kitchen sink, rinsed them, and scrubbed them again.

* * * * * *

The woman sat all night in the dark room, reliving how she had smashed his neck with the hammer on the counter with such power his head snapped back. He had fallen like a dropped scarecrow, his face rubbing against her stomach as he sank to the floor.

Before dawn, she phoned the wife. When there was no answer after nine rings, she dragged the moaning body into her car.