three
Baron Dolce
“This is hella nice,” Duke says, looking around as we set our stuff down inside the Cape Cod style house. “It looks small from the outside, but you didn’t skimp on materials, did you?”
“Why would I?” Mabel asks, unlocking the cat carrier and opening the door. “Just because I couldn’t have insurance cover it, that doesn’t mean I want it to be cheap.”
Boots stalks out, waving his tail in irritation, ignores Mabel, and jumps down to walk away. He stops in the doorway to the hall, ears flicking, and looks up and down.
“The builders didn’t clean up very well,” Duke says, picking up an empty, clear plastic cup from the sink. Half a dozen more are cluttered there, takeout iced-coffee cups with the local coffee shop’s logo printed on the side.
“I guess I forgot to have them buy a trash can,” Mabel says, going to the cabinet under the sink. She opens a box of trash bags and shakes one out, holding it open while Duke drops the cups in.
“Wait.”
Duke stops, the last cup hovering in midair, waiting for my inspection.
“There’s lipstick on the straw,” I point out.
“So?” Mabel asks.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Was your aunt here?”
“I had someone come in and furnish the place,” she says. “They left their cups, that’s all.”
“Who?” I ask, scowling at her.
She shrugs, looking into the bag when Duke drops the last cup. She ties it without looking at me, then starts for the front door.
“It was that pink-haired bitch from the ice cream shop,” I say. “Wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know that many people around here,” she says, letting the screen door bang shut behind her.
I don’t know why it irritates me, that she’s still in contact with the coworker we met last summer.
I could go through her phone and see all their correspondences if I wanted.
I check her phone sometimes. I like to know what she’s looking at, who she’s talking to.
And sometimes I do it just because I can.
“Who cares?” Duke says. “It’s a chick. She’s not fucking her, and even if she did before, so what? She fucked those men too. It’s in the past. Let’s go check out the rest of the house.”
He goes to the French doors, sliding them open to step out onto the deck. Icy December air barrels into the room, and he steps back in quickly. “Damn. That’s brutal.”
None of us have seen the new house she had built while we were in Tennessee, so we go to explore the other rooms. After Duke burned down her aunt’s house, Mabel couldn’t file an insurance claim without the risk of them finding out it was arson, or worse, going through it and finding evidence of the murder I committed there.
My first kill.
The first one that was entirely on my hands.
I let myself savor the moment in my mind often—the sensation of the knife sawing through his throat, the gush of warm blood.
I only wish I’d seen his face when I did it.
Still, the power I took from him remains.
It’s faded now, but the dissatisfaction of not seeing the light disappear from his eyes lingers.
I want to try again, but I haven’t let myself indulge. The risk is too great.
Who would I kill, anyway?
“Looks like she made herself at home in here too,” Duke says, gesturing to the California king in the master bedroom.
It’s made up and ready for us—or someone else.
The two guest rooms have furniture, but the beds haven’t been made.
Mabel didn’t have her set up everything or decorate.
It’s supposed to be furnished, nothing more.
I decide to look into the girl more after all. I didn’t bother with her after we left last summer. It didn’t affect us anymore. We were back in Tennessee, and everything that happened here was behind us, including a random coworker with no social media to speak of.
Or so I thought.
Maybe I can finally see the light fade from someone’s eyes after all.
Once I satisfy the craving, exactly as I want it, it’ll go away.
The thrill will last me a lifetime. It won’t be like the man I killed in the house that used to stand here, or the one who stepped off a bridge.
I still remember the way the wooden beams underfoot shuddered when he hit the end of the rope.
The look of terror and surrender in his eyes when Royal ordered him to jump.
That brought me higher than if I’d pushed him.
But I shared that kill with my brothers.
Jane was mine alone. The closest I’ve come to the kill I wanted.
In the dark, though, I couldn’t see her eyes as the light faded, as she struggled to draw her last breath before it gave out.
I left her in her shallow grave before I had time to really savor my victory, my triumph, because I saw that Mabel wasn’t at home, that her location wasn’t where it should have been, where I told her to stay.
Next time, I’ll get it right, do it perfectly, with more precision and leisure.
I want time to revel in my kill, not to do it in a moment of passion, without a plan to dispose of the body or enjoy it while it’s happening.
Each kill was purposeful, intentional, and none were mistakes.
But they were practice for the next one, the one I crave, the perfect crime.
Ingrid Wells.
She could be exactly what I need.
Later, after dinner, I hook up my computer and set up everything I need.
While Mabel and Duke go to the store to stock up on supplies for the week, I start digging.
By the time I hear them return, it’s later than I expected.
I lost track of time, and I’m impatient to talk to Mabel. I head into the kitchen to meet them.
“What took you so long?” I demand, my gaze moving from one to the other.
“We took a little drive up the coast,” Duke says with a shrug, like I wasn’t here waiting for them.
“To where?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Nowhere special,” he says. “Just to see the moon on the water.”
“I got you those breakfast drinks you like, just in case,” Mabel says, holding up a 4-pack. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want real food over the break.”
“Those are real food,” I point out. “It’s complete nutrition in a can.”
“I’m sure that’s what they tell all the old men in the nursing home,” Duke says, holding up a box of cereal that’s completely devoid of all nutrition. “But lucky for you, I also snagged this, so you can eat solid food like a big boy.”
“That’s for kids,” I point out. “And it’s nothing but sugar and dye.”
“You forgot about the artificial flavor,” he says, grinning. “That’s the best part.”
“I got eggs and toast,” Mabel says. “I’ll make everyone a real breakfast in the morning. Or we can eat in town. The coffee shop has a bakery.”
“The one where those cups came from,” I say, studying Mabel for a reaction.
“It’s the only one in town,” she says. “Havoc Harbor’s not big enough for a Dunkin.”
“Does Ingrid work there?” I ask.
“No, I don’t think so,” Mabel says, turning away after putting up a box of cereal bars. “Why?”
“How much do you know about her?” I ask, leaning back against the counter and crossing my arms.
“I don’t know,” Mabel says. “A little?”
I narrow my eyes. “How much?”
She sighs. “Not that much, okay? We worked together in the summers. Then I go back to Tennessee. The ice cream shop closes in the winter. I don’t know what she does then.”
“Does she live here all year?”
“As far as I know,” she says. “Why?”
I think about telling her what I found, but I want to research a little further, and I’m not sure if she’s lying to me.
Mabel didn’t used to lie, so one might think she’d be a bad liar, but the opposite is true.
She’s learned deceit, but I haven’t learned her tells, which irritates me.
I should know everything about her by now, but I still can’t find anything to indicate when she’s not being truthful.
I need to find out more about Ingrid before I confront her with what I know.
“There’s not much online about her,” I say, opting for my own partial truth. “I’m just trying to fill in the gaps.”
“I don’t know why it’s important, but okay,” Mabel says. “If she lives around here, she might just do odd jobs in the off-season, like furnishing the house.”
“We’ll see,” I say, turning and going back to the room I set up to work from.
It’s too cold for them to hang out on the balcony, so they settle in together in the den.
I like being able to overhear, even if I don’t join them.
They make popcorn and watch Dexter, and then I hear the glass door of the shower slide open and shut.
They fuck, their bodies bumping and sliding against the wall, squeaking on the shower floor.
I think about joining, but Duke needs more one-on-one attention than I do, so I let them have their time together.
It’s important that we all get what we need, not just what we want.
When they’re done, I hear Mabel calling for Seeley Boots to show him where she put his litter box and food. A few minutes later, she comes in wearing a fluffy new bathrobe and slippers.
“Where are you going?” she asks when she sees me in my coat.
I lean in to plant a kiss on her damp, warm forehead. “I’ll be back by morning.”
“Where are you going?” she asks again.
“Out for a drive,” I say. “Like you.”
She hesitates like she might offer further explanation than they did earlier, but then she nods, her lips tightening. “Be careful,” she says. “Goodnight.”
A minute later, I’m sliding into Duke’s new Lexus LX.
Like Mabel, he gets attached to things, and he didn’t want to give up the old Hummer he’d been driving for years, even when I pointed out that Mabel had gotten a new car and I’d upgraded every year since then.
Finally I bought him this for Christmas so he couldn’t drag his feet and make excuses anymore.
Of course, the moment he got in and turned it on, he had to admit it’s a huge upgrade.