Slow Squeeze (Iris Thorne Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  “All Iris’s fault. Miss Prissy-ass. Some people think they can get away with anything.” Lorraine put on underwear, jeans, and a blouse.

  The phone rang.

  “Lorraine? It’s Art.” The mobile phone amplified the freeway sounds.

  “Arturo! Lover man.”

  “Is Barbie there?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Let me talk to her.”

  “Unh-nh.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s done with you. Got it? And we’re goin’ away, on your money, honey. And Iris’s too.”

  “What do you mean, going away? Let me talk to her!”

  “You two had a hot time, but you should know one thing. She likes girls better.”

  Art handed Iris the phone. “I can’t deal with this.”

  “Lorraine, it’s Iris.”

  “I-ris. Little Iris. Hi, Iris.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To a cabin on a cliff where I’m gonna make her forget she ever saw you.”

  “Where is it?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  Barbie came out of the bathroom. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Lorraine, let me talk to Barbie. Art! Watch where you’re going!”

  “Sorry, wrong number.” Lorraine hung up.

  Barbie looked steadily at Lorraine. Lorraine smirked back.

  “Let’s go,” Barbie said. She pulled the incoming message tape from the answering machine and flushed it down the toilet.

  In Art’s car, Iris clicked off the mobile phone. “She hung up.”

  Art sped around a corner, flinging Iris against the passenger door.

  “Let’s get there in one piece, okay?”

  “Where are they going?” Art asked.

  “She said a cabin on a cliff. It’s probably the Mariah Lodge. That’s where John was taking me on my birthday. Barbie knew that. She even ripped off my place.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Las Pumas. About a four-hour drive. I’ll see if she made a reservation.”

  Iris got the lodge’s number from directory assistance and called the reservation office. “Hello, this is Iris Thorne. I’m calling to check on a reservation…” She looked at Art. “You have the Cabin in the Woods ready? How many nights did I say I was staying? Friday and Saturday. Great. Thank you.”

  She ended the call. “So I guess she’s done with Barbie Stringfellow and now she’s going to be Iris Thorne.”

  Art darted through the Marina’s street traffic, speeding down Via Marina and making a tire-squealing left on Tahiti Way. He parked in front of Barbie’s apartment building, halfway on the sidewalk. He jumped out and ran toward the carport. Iris ran into the apartment complex.

  Barbie’s carport space was empty. Art ran up the stairs to Barbie’s apartment.

  Iris was knocking on the door. “Barbie! Open up.” She pounded on the door with her fists.

  “Her car’s gone,” Art said.

  “Shit.”

  “Lying bitch!” Art pounded on the door.

  “Art, she’s gone.”

  He kept pounding. Red imprints of the side of his palm appeared on the door. He’d split the skin on his hand.

  Iris tried to grab him. He shook her off, then took a step back and charged the door with his shoulder.

  “Art, she’s gone!” Iris yelled.

  “Bitch!” He charged the door again. “Whore!”

  The frame broke and the door flew open. Art’s momentum carried him almost through the sliding glass door on the other side of the apartment.

  Iris went inside and surveyed the broken coffee table, the spilled flowers, the bottle of bourbon, and the glasses. The phone machine was still on the floor, the hinged plastic lid over the tapes standing open.

  “What a mess.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” Art ran out the front door.

  Iris followed, pulling the broken door closed as best she could.

  Art was well ahead of her. He’d already started the car by the time she’d run down the stairs. She got inside the Mustang.

  “We can catch her on the road or at that lodge,” he said.

  “Art, call the police about your money.” She punched 911 into the mobile phone.

  He snatched the phone from her hand and disconnected the call. “I can’t call the police.”

  “You have to.”

  “I can’t let anyone know what happened. How can I let my family know what a fool I was?”

  “Art! She stole fifty thousand dollars from you.”

  “What about what she did to you?”

  “What can I tell them? I don’t have any proof about the mugging other than Lorraine having the key to my safe-deposit box. Then they’ll ask what was in the box. And I’ll say, ‘Oh, half a million dollars in embezzled money.’ I’m sure. I’d be bounced out of the industry so fast my head would spin.”

  “How did you get that money, anyway?”

  “That idiot John Somers. Alley left me an envelope with this cash in it. I tried to give it to John. He’s the police, after all, and he goes, ‘Just keep it. It won’t get past the cops who process it.’ That was a bad call all around.”

  Art drove back down Tahiti Way. “We have to get the money back ourselves.”

  “No. You should call the police, then we should both go home. Let her have the dirty money. If it brings her one iota of the bad luck it’s brought me, that’ll be revenge enough.”

  “If she was after your half million, what was I? The hors d’oeuvre? The two-point bonus? I’m sorry, Iris, about how I went after Barbie with that nightclub idea. It was stupid, stealing your client for that. It was just…all the sex and gifts and plans…She set me up.”

  “She set us both up. You know that first instant you set eyes on a person, that gut reaction? It’s like the essence of them is there, if you just pay attention to it. My gut reaction to Barbie was, ‘This woman’s not for real,’ then I spent the next four months convincing myself otherwise. Hell, it was real for a while. She gave us what we wanted. Then the bill came due.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Barbie pulled into the Mariah Lodge’s circular driveway. Two well-groomed, fresh-faced young men wearing khaki pants, pink polo shirts, and webbed, military-style belts with shiny brass buckles ran up to each of the Mercedes’s doors. The one who ran up to Lorraine’s door stopped before opening it. Lorraine was leaning against the inside, asleep.

  “I’ll park it,” Barbie said. “Just let her alone.”

  Barbie walked inside the rustic and charming lobby, registered as Iris Thorne, and paid cash in advance for two nights. Armed with a map of the grounds, she got back in the car.

  Lorraine stirred. “Are we here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Barbie drove down a gravel road that wound around the hotel grounds. A golf course was to their left, bungalows were well spaced from one another on their right, and the ocean was just beyond the bungalows. The road twisted and turned. At the end was a lone cabin surrounded by trees.

  Barbie got out of the car, unlocked the cabin’s door, and pushed it open. Still standing on the doorstep, she exclaimed, “Rainey, look at this. It’s just beautiful!”

  Lorraine got out of the car and shuffled inside.

  Barbie went through the bungalow, opened the back door, and walked down a gravel path edged with rocks, which led from the doorway to a cliff, thirty feet away. A sturdy wood fence coated with many layers of white paint bordered the cliff, keeping the blue-blooded guests from accidentally toppling into the surf during the black nights. Flowers grew in well-tended beds on either side of the path—gold marigolds, candy-striped petunias, pink vincas, blue salvia, and white alyssum. A rustic wood patio table and chairs were on the grass to the left of the bungalow. Pine, eucalyptus, and cypress trees surrounded it, the fragrance of the eucalyptus overpowering that of the other trees. The ground under the trees was littered with pine nee
dles, pine cones, long, pointed eucalyptus leaves, strands of bark, and hard, round eucalyptus and cypress seed pods.

  A few bungalows were clustered to the north. The lodge’s main building was further north still. The tall trees hid the Cabin in the Woods from the rest of the complex. To the south was a state forest and wildlife preserve.

  “Lorraine! Come out and see this.”

  Lorraine plodded out.

  Barbie breathed in the ocean air. “Isn’t this beautiful?” She looked over the railed fence at the edge of the cliff. “Pretty far down there.”

  Lorraine followed her. “Maybe we can push each other off.”

  Barbie planted a hand on her hip. “Is this how it’s gonna be? You think we can at least be nice and enjoy this place?”

  “How’d you find out about it?”

  “Iris stays here.”

  “Of course. I-ris. I guess I have to hear about fucking Iris for the rest of my fucking life.” Lorraine walked back inside the bungalow.

  Barbie turned her back to her and continued looking out across the ocean. The sun was beginning to set. The last light of the day sparkled across the surface of the water through breaks between the dark storm clouds that were moving inland.

  “You can do this, Barbeh girl,” Barbie said in a low voice to herself. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and squeezed her eyes closed. “You can free yourself from that terrible woman. You can!”

  “Over there, I guess.” Barbie heard Lorraine’s voice from inside the bungalow.

  She walked back inside. A uniformed waiter had rolled in a cart with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket, two cut-crystal champagne flutes, and a large platter of assorted fruit, cheeses, and crackers.

  “The fruit and cheese platter is compliments of the manager, Mr. Stanford, for guests in our deluxe rooms. Shall I open the champagne now?”

  Barbie grinned. “Please do.”

  He pulled off the cork with a pop, filled the flutes, half submerged the bottle in the ice bucket, and wrapped a towel around the neck.

  Barbie signed the check. “Say, could y’all bring us a bottle of bourbon and a bottle of soda water and some ice?”

  “Right away, Ms. Thorne.” The waiter bowed and left.

  Lorraine raised her eyebrows. “I’ll put on her suit again if you want to pretend you’re with her.”

  “Darlin’, we’ve had our differences, but we’re in this beautiful place. Let’s enjoy it. To your health, sugar.” Barbie raised her glass toward Lorraine.

  Lorraine met Barbie’s glass with her own. “And to yours.”

  “Umm-mmm. Isn’t that good?” Barbie topped off her glass again and held the bottle out toward Lorraine. “There’s nothing like good champagne. Just kind of tickles your mouth and fizzes all the way down.”

  “First you don’t want me to drink and now you do. You trying to get me drunk so I’ll pass out and you can split?”

  “I just want to have a li’l celebration. Or are you gonna ruin our entire holiday?” She shoved the bottle back into the ice. “Why don’t you put on somethin’ more comfortable, Rainey? I’ll unpack the car.”

  She went out to the car and brought in Lorraine’s suitcase. Lorraine poured herself another glass of champagne.

  “Help yourself, darlin’. Once it’s open, it’s just gonna go to waste.”

  Barbie went out to the car again and dug through the mound of garments. She returned with a purple silk blouse, jeans, cowboy boots, her purple chiffon and satin negligee, and her fur-topped, heeled boudoir slippers. She carried a small cosmetic bag under her arm. She casually tossed the clothes over a rough-hewn chair next to the door. The chair’s frame was made of varnished tree branches. The cushions were made out of a fabric printed with a guide to horses that looked like a color plate from an old encyclopedia. Each drawing was labeled: Morgan, Tennessee Walker, Arabian.

  Lorraine sat in a matching chair beside a small lamp table. Her legs were crossed; she swung the one on top. She finished the rest of her champagne and held the empty glass toward Barbie.

  “More?” Barbie asked gaily.

  “Yes, please.”

  Barbie refilled her glass.

  “You didn’t bring in very much stuff, Charlotte.”

  “I can’t bring it all in. I’ve got so much, and it’s not packed good.”

  “So you’re thinking of cutting out on me in the middle of the night. You’ve had enough practice lately.”

  “Lorraine! Stop this, now.”

  Lorraine raised her hips from the chair and reached into her jeans pocket. She pulled out her hand and pointed her index finger toward Barbie. Barbie’s car keys dangled from it.

  Barbie glowered at her. “Now you’re stooping to digging through my purse.”

  “No, darlin’. You left your keys right here on the table.” Lorraine again raised her hips and shoved the keys back into her pocket. “Shouldn’t matter since you’re not gonna need your car tonight anyway. Right?”

  “That’s not the point.” She picked up the purple negligee. “It’s the principle. You shouldn’t mess with other people’s belongings.”

  Lorraine started swinging her leg again and chewing on her nails. “Look who’s talking.”

  “I’m gonna freshen up.” Barbie took the negligee, slippers, and cosmetic bag into the bathroom.

  The room service waiter knocked on the door and brought in the bourbon, ice, soda, and two squat glasses.

  After Barbie heard the waiter leave, she came out of the bathroom. She pirouetted in front of Lorraine in the purple negligee. “Remember the last time I wore this for you?” She knelt on the ground in front of Lorraine, took the champagne flute from her hand, and set it on the lamp table. “That was so romantic, but not nearly as romantic as our night here’s gonna be.”

  She reached to stroke Lorraine’s face. She unbuttoned Lorraine’s blouse, stood, and tugged on her hands. Lorraine got up. Barbie pulled the blouse out of her jeans. Lorraine pushed it off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. Barbie kissed her neck. Lorraine held Barbie’s head to her chest and leaned her own head back.

  Barbie straightened and licked Lorraine’s lips. She looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes and murmured, “Why don’t you get into that little pink thing I bought you?”

  Lorraine picked up her suitcase and took it into the bathroom.

  As soon as Barbie heard the door click closed, her eyes darted around the cabin. She spotted Lorraine’s purse on the bed and ran to it, frantically pulling out different brown plastic prescription containers and looking at the labels.

  She found the small blue tablets, opened the container, took out several pills, put them in the bottom of one of the glasses, and mashed them with the handle of the knife from the fruit and cheese tray. She poured in bourbon and soda and mixed it with the knife blade, holding the glass up to the light and swirling the liquid until the pills appeared to be dissolved. She dropped a few ice cubes into the glass, then set the drink on the lamp table. Then she made herself a drink, going easy on the bourbon.

  Firewood and kindling were already arranged in the fireplace. She took a long match from a box on the mantel, struck a flame, and put it to the kindling. The dry wood caught easily and began snapping as it burned.

  She plumped the pillows on the bed and lay back against them. She spread the negligee’s layers around her and adjusted her breasts in the bodice so that they pressed against the sheer chiffon and spilled over the purple satin trim. She took a sip of her drink.

  The bathroom door opened.

  “Finally. I was gettin’ lonely out here.” Barbie abruptly sat up on the bed. “Where you goin’?”

  Lorraine was wearing the slinky black cocktail dress with black stockings and black high-heeled sandals. She’d done her hair and put on dramatic makeup and red lipstick. “Out.”

  Barbie pouted. “I thought we were havin’ a private party here.”

  “I’m tired of partying with you. You’re a drag, Char
lotte. All you do is order me around.”

  “At least have a drink with me before you go out. I made you one, over there on the table.”

  Lorraine picked up the bourbon and soda and took a sip.

  Barbie crawled forward on her hands and knees on the bed. “Rainey, don’t leave me. You always hated to go out alone.”

  “I’ve gotten used to it since you left me. I might even get lucky.” She took another sip of the drink, then set the glass on a nightstand by the bed. “I could do better than you.”

  “Won’t you at least finish your drink with me?”

  Lorraine puckered her lips. “Tastes funny.” She poured champagne into an empty flute and took a sip. “Get the taste out of my mouth.” She set the flute on the rolling cart next to Barbie’s.

  She walked outside. Barbie heard the Mercedes’s trunk release. Lorraine came back in with the zippered bag that held the fox.

  “What are you doin’ with that?”

  Lorraine took the fox out, threw the bag on the floor, and put the coat on. She modeled it for Barbie. “Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

  “All right. Go ahead and wear it. But I want you to sit here and have a civilized drink with me first.”

  “I’ve already had enough drinks with you tonight.” Lorraine picked up her purse, made a display of dropping Barbie’s car keys inside, and swung open the cabin door.

  “You shouldn’t drive!” Barbie shouted.

  “You know, it feels good to be in charge. Instead of sitting around, letting life happen to me, I’m controlling what’s going on. I guess I can thank you for opening my eyes. Things are going to be different for me from now on.” She stepped through the doorway and reached back in to close the door behind her. “Have a nice evening.” The door slammed closed.

  Barbie picked up Lorraine’s cocktail from the nightstand. Blue sediment had settled to the bottom. She put it down, threw herself against the plumped pillows, and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Last call for alcohol was at two in the morning. Shortly before three, Lorraine stumbled back down the road to the bungalow. She wasn’t alone. An executive on a weekend business trip had taken off his tie, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and spent a good portion of the night on a bar stool next to Lorraine trying to put his hands up her dress. They had many drinks. He insisted on walking her back to her room.