Page 121 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
WAS ON
WES UN
Merida said the letters were blurred and she wasn’t sure she correctly remembered them.
WASON
WESUN
WES. The killer was Wesley somebody? Maybe, but that was a big pool to choose from.
WASUN…
WA could be Washington. Washington SUN? Was that a newspaper? Was the killer someone tanned?
Benedict snorted and dropped the card. But his brain worried the problem as he packed his clothes. Washington something. WA S UN.
He stood up straight. WSU. Washington State University.
That was where Dawkins Cipre was supposed to teach next year.
Sitting down at the computer, he immediately found Dawkins Cipre, his honors, his teaching credentials. Then he dug deeper.
Dawkins Cipre wasn’t on the WSU autumn schedule.
Benedict looked out the window.
Dawkins and Elsa Cipre had the attic room above Merida. One small light shone in the attic. All of Merida’s lights were on.
Picking up his phone, he called Merida.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Elsa stood, dragged one of the heavy dining chairs out and, hooking her arms under Merida’s, deadlifted her onto the seat.
Half blind with pain, Merida tried to lunge away.
With her bony fist, Elsa hit her behind the right ear.
Merida retched and blacked out.
She woke seated in the chair with her joined hands behind the chair back.
With calm severity, Elsa said, “I don’t like to compromise the finished product, but I will. The important thing is doing the job. And getting paid.” She spoke briskly, instructively, like a… like a professor.
Merida’s vision returned, dissolved in watery agony, returned again. She looked at the door. It was shut and locked.
Elsa saw her. “Have you ever heard the world’s shortest ghost story? A man stayed in a bedroom reputed to be haunted and before he slept, he locked all the locks on the door and windows and barricaded himself in. When he was done, he climbed into bed, turned off the light and a cheerful little voice said, ‘Now we’re locked in safe for the night.’” She laughed merrily. “Just like you and me.”
Merida’s phone rang.
Elsa located it, lifted her booted heel and stomped as hard as she could.
The glass shattered.
It rang again.
Elsa lifted her heel and stomped, stomped, stomped, each time the force of her blow growing greater. She stomped until the ringing ceased, then stomped again. When she at last stopped, she was breathing heavily. As if her frenzy was Merida’s fault, she said, “We don’t have an unlimited amount of time. We’ll have to get the job done ASAP.Of course,I’m prepared and I’ve practiced, so don’t worry. We’ll get there!” She removed her ugly, misshapen black cape and spread it on the table, the lining up. She smoothed the material. Scissors, knives, sewing tools, box cutters: their handles stuck out of a myriad of pockets. In that instructional tone, she said, “I found a purse to be an inefficient way to carry the necessities a woman needs. So when I design my clothing, I add a holder for each item. A place for everything and everything in its place. Tonight, of course, I was wearing my cutting cape.”
