Big Lu screamed. “Oh my god! That was my twenty-inch monitor!”
She lunged at Mrs. Aird, but Evelyn, still sitting on the floor, caught her ankle and sent her sprawling.
“What’s she hollering about?” Mrs. Aird nonchalantly pounded an ink-jet printer into fragments. “Tell her to speak up. There’s a fair bit of noise in here.” She flattened an outboard modem.
“Stop her! Somebody stop her!” Big Lu shrieked.
She was trying valiantly to regain her feet, but each time, Evelyn pulled her down again. In the confusion Timothy slipped past them both and lifted the chain link from its fastenings. Gently he helped Dianne up the stairs.
“I’ll just keep at it till she tells me to stop,” said Mrs. Aird, stepping into the soft radiance of the computer on the desk.
“No, no, NO!” Big Lu implored, beating her fist on the floor. “That’s my latest addition! It’s worth ten thousand dollars!”
“Bad investment,” commented Evelyn. “I think it’s about to depreciate.” Mrs. Aird swung the axe. There was a delayed explosion this time, a shower of whirling, scintillating sparks, then a cloud of gray-white smoke, and finally a dance of fluid bluish flame licking up from the machine’s wrecked innards.
Mrs. Aird rested on the axe a moment, shaking her head and clucking her tongue.
“This,” she said, “is what happens when your high-tech and your low-tech meet.”
The room was a shambles. Smashed equipment, broken plastic, and glass shards lay everywhere. A thin smoke haze and a stink of scorched plastic filled the air.
“Hey. Where’s Dianne?” asked Evelyn, glancing around suddenly-
“Timothy took her out,” said Mrs. Aird, her hearing unexpectedly keen.
“Thank heavens.” Evelyn bent over Big Lu who was curled up on the floor wracked with great frame-shaking sobs. “All right, you! Don’t carry on. This is nothing compared to what the police will do to you. They’ve been trying for weeks to get a line on the Internet Predator.”
“The what?” Big Lu blew her nose on her shirtfront.
“Don’t play dumb. You’re a famous killer.”
“And you’re crazy. I never killed anybody.”
“You must have. It’s in the newspapers.”
“It’s not me they’re talking about. I don’t have a clue what happened to those other girls. I didn’t even get to meet them. I arranged to meet them, all right. But when I showed up, they didn’t.”
Evelyn snorted. “You expect us to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe. It’s the truth. Somebody got to them first.”
Something in her voice made Evelyn hesitate. “But who? How would anyone else know?”
“We’re talking Internet, lady. It’s like CB radio. Anyone could have seen our arrangements. The Net is dangerous. Or didn’t you know that?”
“Oh my God,” said Evelyn to Mrs. Aird with a sudden intake of breath, hearing her own admonitions thrown back at her. “That’s right! That’s exactly right!”
And she made for the stairs at a lumbering gallop.
Timothy was so very gentle, so kind and considerate. He helped her into his car, a low-slung sports model, one with darkened windows that were impossible to see through, then he got in himself, slammed the door, and locked it. They were alone. He held her hand.
“Did that madwoman hurt you?”
“No. I’m all right — I think.”
“I saw you at the bridge,” he said.
“I saw you, too.”
“I knew it was you. At least I thought it was. But then you suddenly rushed off so fast, I couldn’t get to my car in time. You got clean away on me.”
“How... how did you find me, then?”
“Persistence.”
“You mean you wanted to?”
“I had to.” He smiled at her. “Oh yes. I couldn’t help myself.”
Dianne was touched. She felt the trickle of tears on her cheeks. She fumbled for a tissue, automatically reaching for the glove compartment release.
“Don’t do that!” Timothy suddenly blurted, thrusting out a hand to stop her. But he was too late. The glove compartment opened, and two large wooden spools fell out, connected by thick blue twine.
Dianne stared. She rubbed her eyes. Tried to make sense out of what she was seeing. Then things clicked into place. A pall of fear dropped over her.
“You!” she said. “You’re the one!”
He returned her gaze evenly.
“I had hoped for a more romantic spot, but now I guess I’ll have to take care of you right here.” He yanked the spools from her hands and threw her back against the seat. A fresh wave of emotion rose up and engulfed Dianne. All the fear, all the terror, all the anger and hurt inside her came together like a fast-moving stormfront. A mental tempest. She brought her hand up in one swift motion, feeling the weight of the cuffs that still hung from her wrist. She swung them hard, hearing the dull thump as they connected with her assailant’s head. He yelled with pain. She struck again and again till he fell away from her. Then her door was suddenly jerked open, and Evelyn Culver was peering in.
“Well,” she said, taking in the scene. “Looks like your f-2-f didn’t go so well.”
The four of them sat around Evelyn’s table trying to keep their minds on their cards but not having much success at it. Evelyn was especially agitated. It had been a shock to realize that she had practically befriended a killer. Chief Robideau had explained the details, passing on information received from the city police.
Timothy’s real name was Harold Kurtz. He’d been tracking Big Lu’s assignations with the clear intention of striking first. He had meant to confuse investigators, and it had been working. His attacks had naturally been attributed to Heloise Walker as the cops gradually closed in.
“How was I supposed to know who the real murderer was?” she demanded earnestly. “He didn’t look like a murderer, did he?”
“What’s a murderer look like?” asked Winona Delmare. “I mean when he’s not actually murdering people?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well then, stop blaming yourself. That madwoman could of been a killer. If she’d stuck that screwdriver into you, you’d of wound up dead. Completely dead.” She looked approvingly at Mrs. Aird. “Thank goodness somebody showed some deft action.”
“Who’s deaf?” Mrs. Aird flung down a club.
“Not deaf, dear. Deft!”
“I heard you the first time. I’m not deaf!”
Evelyn sighed. “I admit I learned something. Dianne was able to take care of herself after all.”
Dianne shrugged. She still had a pale look about her. “I guess that’s true. But I still should’ve listened to you. But I learned something, too. That’s why I sold my computer.”
“You what?” Evelyn mouth fell open. “Who’d you sell it to?”
Dianne raised her chin slowly and looked across the table. Following her gaze, Evelyn suddenly sucked in her breath.
“Oh no!”
Winona Delmare said, “It’s fascinating. Last night I found this chat room all about insects, and I learned about this spider — which isn’t really an insect — that doesn’t spin its own web, but preys on the bugs trapped in other spiders’ webs. And I met the nicest person. A real spider expert. And the two of us are planning to have dinner together one night...”
Welcome to the Rattlesnake Farm
by Kenneth Gavrell
It began over lunch with Lourdes Delgado. Over enchiladas. When she started, I was more interested in looking at the lovely Lourdes and listening to the lilt of her voice, but before I reached my second enchilada, she definitely had me hooked.