I quickly reopened the door. “Wait! I didn’t get your name.”
But she didn’t hear me as she walked through the door to the stairwell.
My heart still thumped rapidly. Faster, faster, faster…
I shouldn’t be frightened. She hadn’t done anything. But Brad… Brad would never…
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Then the curtain fell.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brad
Murphy came home with a woman who wasn’t Patty Watson. Hey, none of my business.
“This is Sloane,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Hey,” I said.
He grabbed a few beers out of the fridge and then led Sloane and her big blond hair into his bedroom. I figured he was gone for the night, but he returned to the kitchen.
“Wendy’s on the warpath,” he said, his voice still off.
I rolled my eyes. “When is she not?”
“I’m serious. Sloane and I ran into her at the convenience store. She was buying a pack of Marlboros.”
“She said she quit.”
He cleared his throat. Then again. “Apparently not. Anyway, I tried to sneak us out of there before she saw us, but no deal. Sloane had to use the john.”
“What happened? What’s wrong, Murph? You’re not acting like yourself, and you sound like a frog is living in your throat.”
“She asked where you were.”
“Fuck. What did you tell her?”
“I told her you were out, man. I’d never give up your locale. Except…”
“Except what?”
“You won’t believe me if I tell you.” He shook his head. “I can’t even believe it myself. I’m lucky I didn’t piss right there.”
Not a good sign. My nerves jumped inside my skin. “Are you kidding? This is Wendy. I’ll believe anything.”
“She fucking pulled a gun on me!” He took a swig of the beer he was holding. “Held it at my head.”
“A gun?” I raked my fingers through my hair. I’d taught her how to handle firearms. “Fuck, bro. I’m so sorry.”
“Does she even know how to use that damn thing?”
I purposely didn’t respond to his question, though the answer was yes, all due to me. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of this.”
“That’s not the point. I told her where you were. I’m sorry, man. I’m going to start carrying my own piece. This is ridiculous.”
“This all happened in the store?”
“No, after I left the store. Sloane went to the bathroom, and I went ahead out to the car. Wendy followed me and pulled out the piece.”
“Sloane doesn’t know?”
“Hell, no. You know women. They take forever in the can. And thank God, because I really need to get laid now. If I tell her what happened, she’ll bolt, and I wouldn’t blame her.”
“Wendy didn’t show up at Tante Louise. Did you tell her I was with someone?”
“No. She didn’t ask.”
“Thank God. She’s a loose cannon when she gets like this. She needs some help. I’ve tried to get her to go to therapy, but—”
“Therapy? She needs to be arrested, man.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?”
“Because of you, Brad. I can still call the cops now.”
I nodded. “Go ahead and call the cops. She deserves it.”
“Man! I’ve got a woman with curves going into next week ready to spread her legs—”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Call the cops tomorrow, then. I swear, Murph, your dick is your God.”
“I won’t deny it.” He grabbed his crotch and walked out of the kitchen. Seemed okay for someone who’d recently been held up at gunpoint. Either that or he just wanted to get into Blondie’s pants.
Fucking Wendy. I knew she wouldn’t go quietly. At least she hadn’t shown up—
Oh, fuck.
I knew Wendy like the back of my hand. She had showed up, and she had seen—
Daphne.
Damn.
I grabbed my wallet and keys off the counter and raced to my car.
Daphne’s door was cracked.
I opened it. “Daphne? Oh, shit!”
She lay on the ground, her eyes closed, her burgundy robe open with her breasts spilling out. Next to her, her toothbrush, toothpaste, and some skincare products had fallen out of a bucket.
I knelt down and touched her cheek. “Daphne? Daphne, can you hear me?”
She opened her eyes. “Brad? What happened?”
“I don’t know, baby. You’re lying on the floor.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. Can you sit up?” I helped her get into a sitting position and closed her bathrobe.
She twisted her lips, her forehead wrinkling. “I think…someone was here. A woman.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me her name. Yeah, now I remember. She told me… She told me you used women and that I should stay away from you.”
Wendy.
Could only be Wendy.
“Did she hurt you?”
“No. She seemed nice. She sure doesn’t like you, though.”
“She didn’t have a gun?”
Daphne gasped. “God, no!”
Thank God. “What did she look like?”
“Shorter than me, brown hair, blue eyes. Jeans and a tank top. Tight.”
That was Wendy all right.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll take care of this.”
“How can you take care of it? Do you know her? She didn’t tell me her name.”
“Yeah. Her name is Wendy, and I won’t let her bother you again.”