Devil’s Waltz. By: Jonathan Kellerman

spent three minutes in this blue-tile dungeon, but it felt like a

weekend. Unlocking the door, I padded across the threshold into the

bedroom, grateful for thick, tight-weave carpeting that swallowed my

footsteps.

The room was darkened by drawn shutters and furnished with a king-size

bed and clumsy Victorian furniture. Books were stacked high on one of

the nightstands. A phone sat atop the stack. Next to the table was a

brass-and-wood valet over which hung a pair of jeans.

The other stand bore a Iiffany revival lamp and a coffee mug. The

bedcovers were turned down but folded neatly. The room smelled of the

pine disinfectant I’d found in the bathroom.

Lots of disinfectant. Why?

A double chest ran along the wall facing the bed. I opened a top

drawer. Bras and panties and hose and floral sachet in a packet. I

felt around, closed the drawer, got to work on the one below, wondering

what thrill Dawn Herbert had gotten from petty theft.

Nine drawers. Clothing, a couple of cameras, canisters of film, and a

pair of binoculars. Across the room was a closet. More clothes,

tennis rackets and canisters of balls, a fold-up rowing machine,

garment bags and suitcases, more books-all on sociology. A telephone

directory, light bulbs, travel maps, a knee brace. Another box of

contraceptive jelly. Empty.

I searched garment pockets, found nothing but lint. Maybe the dark

corners of the closet concealed something but I’d been there too

long.

Shutting the closet door, I snuck back to the bathroom. The toilet had

stopped gurgling and Cindy was no longer talking.

Had she grown suspicious about my prolonged absence? I cleared my

throat again, turned on the water, heard Cassie’s voicesome kind of

protest-then the resumption of mommy-talk.

Detaching the toilet paper holder, I slid off the old roll and tossed

it into the cabinet. Unwrapping a refill, I slipped it onto the

dispenser. The ad copy on the wrapper promised to be gentle.

Picking up the white box, I pushed open the door to Cassie’s room,

wearing a smile that hurt my teeth.

They were at the play table, holding crayons. Some of the papers were

covered with colored scrawl.

When Cassie saw me she gripped her mother’s arm and began whining.

“It’s okay, lion. Dr. Delaware’s our friend.” Cindy noticed the box

in my hands and squinted.

I came closer and showed it to her. She stared at it, then up at me.

I stared back, searching for any sign of self-indictment.

Just confusion.

“I was looking for toilet paper,” I said, “and came across this.

She leaned forward and read the gold sticker.

Cassie watched her, then picked up a crayon and threw it. When that

didn’t capture her mother’s attention, she whined some mor “Shh,

baby.”

Cindy’s squint tightened. She continued to look baffled. “How

strange.”

Cassie threw her arms up and said, “Uh uh uh!”

Cindy pulled her closer and said, “Haven’t seen those in a long TIME ”

“Didn’t mean to snoop,” I said, “but I knew Holloway made equipment for

diabetics and when I saw the label I got curiousthinking about Cassie’s

blood sugar. Are you or Chip diabetic?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Those were Aunt Harriet’s. Where did you find

them?”

“Beneath the sink.”

“How odd. No, Cass, these are for drawing, not throwing.” She picked

up a red crayon and drew a jagged line.

Cassie followed the movement, then buried her head in Cindy’s blouse.

“Boy, I haven’t seen those in a really long TIME I cleaned out her

house, but I thought I threw all her medicines out.”

“Was Dr. Benedict her doctor?”

And her boss.”

She bounced Cassie gently. Cassie peeked out from under her arm, then

began poking her under the chin.

Cindy laughed and said, “You’re tickling me. . . . Isn’t that odd,

under the sink all this time?” She gave an uneasy smile. “Guess that

doesn’t make me much of a housekeeper. Sorry you had to go looking for

paper-I usually notice when the roller’s low.”

“No problem,” I said, realizing there’d been no dust on the box.

Pulling out a cylinder, I rolled it between my fingers.

Cassie said, “Peh-il.”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *