The Year's 25 Finest Crime & Mystery Stories 2nd Annual Ed. (1993) by Mystery Scene Staff

Author:Mystery Scene Staff [Staff, Mystery Scene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780881849998
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Avalon Publishing Group
Published: 1993-09-27T21:00:00+00:00

Cat Got Your Tongue

BARBARA COLLINS AND MAX ALLAN COLLINS

Max Allan Collins, known for a variety of mystery and suspense achievements, is teamed here with his talented wife, Barbara Collins, in another tale from Cat Crimes III, this one worthy of the kind of high regard one felt at the end of the best of vintage “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” television episodes. Appearances don’t always lead to the kind of end one might imagine. . .

The warm California breeze played with Kelli’s long blonde hair, which shimmered in the brilliant sun like threads of finely spun gold. Stretched out in a lounge chair by the pool—its water sparkling like diamonds, blinding her in spite of the Ray-Ban sunglasses—she looked like a goddess: long sleek curvy legs led to an even more curvaceous body that spilled over and out her bathing suit, as if resenting having to be clothed. Next to her, on a wrought-iron table, lay fruit, caviar and champagne. Her pouty-pink lips were fixed in a smug, satisfied smile. She was in heaven!

“Oh, poolboy!” she called out to the muscular, shirtless, sandy-haired man dragging a net across the back end of the swimming pool. “More champagne!” She waved an empty crystal goblet at him.

He ignored her.

So she stretched out even more in the lounge chair, moving seductively, suggestively. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she said, her tongue lingering on her lips.

Now he came to her, and looked down with mild disgust. Sweat beaded his berry-brown body. “Put the stuff back, Kel. It’s time to go.”

“Just a little longer, Rick,” she pleaded.

“It’s time, Kel.”

She sat up in the chair, swung both legs around, and stomped her feet to the ground. “How am I supposed to get a tan?” she whined.

He didn’t answer but stood silently until she finally got up and picked up the fruit, caviar and champagne, and shuffled off to the house.

“Hurry it up!” he called after her. “They’ll be home soon!”

Rick collected his gear, and after a few minutes Kelli returned, standing before him like a dutiful child.

“Everything put back?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And straightened up?”

“Yes.”

“Do I have to check?”

“No.”

As he turned away, she made a face and stuck out her tongue.

They left, out the patio’s wooden gate, and down a winding cobblestone path that led through the gently sloping garden bursting with flowers.

“Why can’t we live like this?” she complained.

He grunted, moving along. “Because I work for a pool cleaning company and you’re on unemployment.”

She sighed. “Life just isn’t fair.”

“Who said it was?”

They were at the street now, by his truck, a beat-up brown Chevy. He threw his gear into the back, then went around to the passenger side and opened the door for her.

“But this is America!” Kelli said, tossing her duffel bag inside. “Don’t we have a right to make things fair?”

He looked at her funny.

“What?” she asked.

“Are those your sunglasses?”

“Yes, those are my sunglasses!” she replied indignantly. Anyway, they were now.

She got in the truck, and, while waiting for him to get in the other side, checked herself out in the visor mirror.

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