The Deadly Rose by J M Lominy

Author:J M Lominy [Lominy, J M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FIVE SONS PUBLISHING
Published: 2013-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

By nine o’clock that morning, Grimo and Marie-Anne were coasting down Rue De Carrefour in Marcel’s Buick, heading west toward the town of Carrefour, leaving dust clouds in their wake. Grimo was in deep thought, scratching the wound of unfulfilled vengeance on his belly, as he contemplated Marie-Anne’s recap of last night’s events to the police officers.

The killer crashed through the front door half an hour after Chief Legros departed, surprising Gilbert, the yard boy, and his dog. Marie-Anne was washing her feet next to the outdoor shower and nearly screamed from the commotion. Christo was nearby keeping watch and shushed her to silence before quickly dousing the lamp. It was his quick thinking that brought her to the latrine. With no other viable escape route, he used a bedsheet from the clothesline and eased her into the dark pit, then sat as if he was in the process of relieving himself.

Looking at Marie-Anne curled up asleep in the passenger’s seat brought some semblance of peace to Grimo’s fiery thoughts. She was dressed in a soft yellow dress with accordion seams that covered her ankles. Her face was lightly covered with makeup, a touch of rouge at her cheeks. Her full lips were pink enough to not want for any lipstick.

It had been more than twenty-four hours since Grimo last slept. He was too angry and focused to be concerned with rest. Getting Marie-Anne to safety was his priority. They were on their way to her sister’s home in Petit-Goâve, a town that was small but big enough for her to remain hidden.

Adorable as an angel at rest, Marie-Anne twisted and faced him. Her hair was wrapped with a yellow silk headscarf, in the same fashion that most island women, rich or poor, kept their hair up. Her skin was spotless, a smooth canvas of brown perfection. She opened her eyes.

“Why do you stare at me when I’m asleep, love?”

“You resemble my mother when you’re asleep.”

“You never met your mother.”

“You look just like her in her picture.”

“I didn’t resemble your mother when I was a girl, and you watched me then.” She slid closer to Grimo with a seductive smile, slipped her hand in his shirt and started to rub his chest.

He drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the seat. He avoided her eyes; their tenderness often made him feel ecstatic, as if running on the beach with the wind carrying him, or on a soccer field with a quivering goalie a thin obstacle to his winning goal.

The sun was beaming hot, but the breeze carried with it the coolness of the sea. They drove past Carrefour. Grimo was driving fast and hard, not concerned about the few pedestrians walking on the side of the road.

He caught a glance of her through the corner of his eye. She had a look of mischief, seductively pursing her lush, plump, red lips. With lustful eyes, she looked at his crotch, trying to work her charms and entice him, a game she often played.

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