Page 15 of Poisoned Promise
“No,” Caterina wails. “No, no, you’re lying! You’re lying!”
“What’s happening?”
The phone slips from her hand and lands on her lap. “He’s dead,” she wails. “He’s dead!”
“Who’s dead, Caterina?” My heart suddenly pounds as the familiarity of her tears and yelling drags me right back to that night fifteen years ago. I crash down onto the sofa next to her and she clutches at my arms.
“My man!” she wails. “He’s been murdered!” Tears well on her lashes and pour down her cheeks, taking streaks of her mascara with them. “Dead!” She wails again and then her jaw jerks to the side, then she grits her teeth as she glares at me.
“Fuck the Russians. You get out there, Felix. You get out there and you bring me the head of the fucker who killed him!”
5
DOVE
“What do you think?” I run my fingers through the beautiful black curls I’ve spent the past forty minutes perfecting for my client. “Do you like them? If they’re too tight for you, I can brush them out a little more, but not too much, and we’ll end up with waves.”
“Oh I love them!” Addison covers her face with her hands for a moment, then lifts her head and looks at me. “Thank you Dove. You always make me feel so beautiful!”
“It’s because you are beautiful,” I reply. “I just enhance what’s already there. I can’tmakebeauty.”
“Oh sure.” Addison rolls her eyes. “I like the blonde on you, by the way. I wish I could change my hair color as often as you.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Leaning close, we’re cheek to cheek as I eye her in the mirror. “Wigs.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Mhm. Much cheaper and easier on the hair.”
“Oh my god. Well, either way you look amazing!”
“Thank you.” With a soft laugh, I lean up and pat your shoulder. “Okay, if you’re satisfied with everything, just head to the till and Delilah will ring you up.”
“Thanks a bunch, seriously!” She blows a kiss at me as she stands and then hurries through the salon to the front desk where her presence draws Delilah out of her book.
I watch until the process starts and then sneak off to the back room for a break.
With coffee brewing on the counter, I rest against the table and scan through my phone.
Countless reminders have come through from my insurance already as well as emails from the hospital about Alex’s return visit to check on the care of his cast.
On top of that, another cop dropped by about the crash - a real one this time - and Social Services phoned, informing me of a meeting at the end of the week.
It’s a lot.
Too much.
My quiet little life stands on the verge of collapse and my only relief comes from the lack of any news about the people I killed.
Sleep has become a thing of the past over these past few days, but not because I took three lives.
That’s as easy as dyeing hair.
I worry for Alex. His face when I told him his friend had died scars my mind and keeps me awake through the long hours of the night, searching for a solution that fails to present itself.
I’m fighting another yawn when Mary shuffles into the room and flashes me a smile. “You alright, dear?”
“Yeah, fine.” I motion with my phone. “Just bills.”
