Page 82 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

“I thought we could get together.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if we can meet tomorrow.”

“I’m talking about tonight.”

“I know.” He was covering, trying to hide the fact that he was talking to her because of the other person or persons he was with. That was the trouble with cell phones, the double-edged sword of anonymity. Not only could the person you called not know where you were, but you too had no idea where he was when he picked up. He could well be in the city, across the country, or at home in bed…with whomever.

She felt a burning in her gut, but disguised it. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I told you this wasn’t a done deal.”

“You know where I’ll be,” she said in a low voice. “And you know what I’ll be wearing…. We’ll have ourselves a really good time.”

“I just don’t know.”

“Trust me, you want to see me. To touch me. To kiss me. I’ll do things to your body you can’t begin to imagine.”

He laughed a little then. “Look, I’ll be in the office in the morning. I’ll call you.”

And then the bastard hung up.

“You goddamned cocksucker!” she hissed, knowing full well that he’d show. He couldn’t resist her. Oh, sure, there were other women in his life; she knew that. He wasn’t the kind of man to be satisfied with only one woman, but hell, she intended to change that. Maybe tonight. She was sick to the back teeth of him admitting that he still loved his wife. What a crock!

“Bastard.” He’d better be careful.

Now that the phone was properly ditched, she swung the car around again and headed back to Sausalito, to the place to which she knew he would return. It was there that they laughed and made love, there that they’d plotted out how to spring Marla from prison, there that they’d laid out their plans.

He’d show up.

He couldn’t resist. She knew that about him.

She considered meeting him in her Marla garb, but decided against it. Once she was back at the house, she’d ditch the green contacts, red-brown wig, padding in her bra, enhancers in her cheeks, and lifts in her shoes.

She didn’t look that much like Marla, but the power of suggestion was a strong and wonderful thing, especially if one was seeing ghostly elevators open or staring down the barrel of a handgun.

She smiled to herself, gave herself a pat on the back. “Good work, Marla,” she said and thought of the real Marla Cahill, that pathetic creature in the basement.

She couldn’t wait to take off anything that remotely resembled the woman. In only a few minutes, she’d shower and be herself again.

And then she’d wait for the turn of the key and the familiar sound of his footsteps as he climbed the stairs to her bedroom….

“The Sausalito police just called,” Janet Quinn said, strapping on her sidearm as she reached Paterno’s desk. It was ten in the morning, and she was serious. “Looks like we’ve got another dead relative of Marla Cahill.”

“What?” He glanced up from his notes. The homicide unit was bustling this morning, conversation loud, phones ringing, computers humming, shoes scraping against the floor as detectives walked from one area to the next. “Who?”

“Cherise Favier. Shot

dead in her own house.”

“Jesus!” Paterno said. He hadn’t seen that one coming.

“The neighbor she usually goes walking with called 9-1-1 this morning. She was so upset the operator could barely understand her. Come on, I’ll drive and fill you in.” They walked out of the station together and headed for Quinn’s car rather than use a department vehicle. Paterno forced himself into the passenger side of Quinn’s red Jetta and clicked on his seatbelt as she tore out of the lot. The traffic was thick, morning rush hour still creating gridlock in the city, but a few rays of sun filtered through the thick, gray sky.

“This is what we know so far,” Quinn said, turning on her blinker and looking over her shoulder as she wove her way into the next lane. “Cherise was alone. Her husband was in Sacramento on church business.”

“He’s got an alibi?” Paterno had never liked the Reverend Donald and thought the preacher was full of hot air and BS, heavy on the BS.

Quinn’s mouth twisted wryly. “You’re going to love this one. Turns out he was with Heather Van Arsdale.”

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