“Anyway,” she said, “you were going to tell me about this case you were working on.”
As they finished dinner, Marlin told her everything he was at liberty to reveal, without using any names. He left out the remark Vinnie Mameli had made, and he also didn’t mention anything about the dam. Garza wanted to keep that information under wraps until the dam had been inspected, in order to avoid unfounded panic about a damburst.
By the time Marlin finished his tale, Inga had stopped eating and was staring at him. “So you basically solved a murder investigation by yourself?”
“No, not by myself. The sheriff-”
“Yeah, but you were the one who kept digging around and found all the evidence.”
“Got lucky on a couple of things. But Bobby Garza was the one who got the confession. He has these questioning skills that they can’t teach you at the Academy. Played the guy just right.”
“Well, I’d say he was awfully lucky to have you around.”
Marlin was embarrassed, and he tried to conceal it with a nod. “It was interesting,” he said. “But now it’s almost over and then I can get back to my regular patrol.”
They cleared the dishes and made their way to the sofa in the living room. It was a beautiful evening, and a cool breeze drifted in through the open windows. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Marlin felt at peace. He had been wondering if it would be awkward to have Inga in his home-but it felt completely comfortable. He knew there was an unspoken attraction between them, but there was also the beginnings of a friendship. He thought it would be best to keep it that way.
That’s when Inga suddenly leaned over and kissed him.
It was gentle at first, but then their lips parted and their tongues found each other. Wordlessly, their mouths still pressed together, Inga straddled him and began to unbutton his uniform. She ran her fingers through his chest hair and moaned softly deep in her throat. Marlin pulled her shirt free from her shorts and she slipped it off over her head. She gazed into his eyes as she removed her bra, then placed his hands on her breasts, the nipples round and hard. They kissed again, and a few seconds later, he could feel her hands tugging at his belt buckle.
Angela finally went to bed after the weather report, as usual. Smashed on vodka, also as usual. Sal had tuned to an Austin station instead of KHIL because he was getting tired of hearing about all the shit happening in Blanco County. The last thing he needed right now was an update on the Emmett Slaton case. His nerves couldn’t take it.
He had to get that shell, there was no getting around it. It was the only piece of evidence linking him to Slaton. Once it was destroyed, he could relax, let the cops sniff around all they want. But the thought of going into Maria’s cottage sent chills down his spine. If she had half the powers of Aunt Sofia, she could put some kind of wicked-ass curse on him and make him fall dead in his tracks. And there was that damned cat, too. A thing of pure evil. If it attacked, he’d be done for.
On the other hand, he’d rather be dead than go to prison. If he could just talk some sense into Maria, keep her calm, maybe the cat would stay calm, too. It was the only option Sal had.
He gave it a good thirty minutes, then stuck his head into the bedroom. Angela was out cold.
He clomped down the hallway on his crutches and went out the back door. Good. There was still a light in Maria’s window. He followed the path to her cottage.
Thomas Peabody double-checked his supplies, found everything in order, and set off through the darkness. He moved slowly, painstakingly. Stealth was imperative now. One small error could mean disaster.
Maria was sitting cross-legged on the floor, meditating, feeling more at peace with the world than she had in years. At the center of it all was this wonderful man named Smedley. He had been a sensitive, caring lover… though his sudden departure had left her a little puzzled. But he would come back-she was certain of it. Why else would he have left behind his badge and his gun? She had not known Smedley was a police officer, but now that she knew, it made her feel protected. She would have felt uneasy being involved with a police officer back in Guatemala, for they were often corrupt and immoral. But here in the United States, it was known as an honorable and noble profession. Holding the badge in her hand, caressing its gentle curves, gave her a feeling of security. The gun, however, made Maria very nervous. She had even draped a towel over it to help her put it out of mind.
Maria meditated for ten more minutes and was just about to go to bed when there was a knock on the door. She was startled at first, and she instinctively flinched.
Just as she was wondering if perhaps Smedley had returned, she heard Mr. Mameli calling out to her. It had been seven days since Maria had been subjected to Mr. Mameli’s advances, and she had hoped he would no longer try to inflict his abuse. Obviously, though, Mr. Mameli had no intention of leaving her alone.
He knocked again, more firmly this time, and called her name once more.
Much to Maria’s surprise, the feeling of dread that normally accompanied the sound of her employer’s voice had vanished. In its place were anger and outrage and defiance. Her relationship with Smedley had somehow liberated her, transforming her meek submissiveness into a steely resolve. Tonight, she said to herself, it will all end!
Maria Consuelo Garcia Rodriguez had had enough!
She made a move to lock the door but was not fast enough. The doorknob turned, and Mr. Mameli limped into the room on his crutches. He gave her a large, false smile, the type Americans were always giving.
“Go away!” she hissed at him. She suddenly remembered she was dressed in nothing but a long nightshirt that draped to her thighs-but instead of feeling a sense of vulnerability, she now felt empowered and strong. “You go now!” she hissed again.
He made a meaningless gesture with his hands. “Aw, come on, Maria. Don’t get all crazy on me,” he said, his eyes darting left and right. “I just need to get something from you.”
Maria knew exactly what that something was-and she vowed that he would never “get it” again.
Sal was relieved that the cat was nowhere to be seen-but Maria was the problem right now. She had it all wrong. All he wanted was the damn bullet shell from around her neck. He could see it now, plain as day, glistening on her necklace.
Peabody made his way to the first BrushBuster, one of six hunched together on the west side of Sal Mameli’s house. There was a structure on the east side of the residence-a cottage of some sort-but it was too far away to be of concern. He went to the closest tree-cutter and unscrewed the gas cap.
Mr. Mameli was blatantly staring at her chest now, and Maria responded by planting her feet squarely and giving him an icy stare. She was giddy with power, and she was delighted to see the fear in Mr. Mameli’s eyes.
He took another step forward on his crutches, asking her to calm down. Nonsense! She would never be calm again in the face of oppression!
He reached out toward her breasts and she swatted his hands away. He flinched, like a small child caught misbehaving. He reached again. And Maria was surprised by the harsh words she heard leaving her throat: “Go to hell!”
Peabody struck the match, touched it to the trail of gasoline on the ground, and sprinted like a jackrabbit back to the woods.
It was so close, just inches from his fingertips. If only Sal could make Maria understand. All he wanted was the shell-the goddamn shell. He reached for it again…and she cursed him! In a voice full of rage, the witch told him to go to hell! But it was more than her anger, it was the evil gleam in her eye that sent a shudder through his body and caused a tremble in his hands.
And at that moment, she fully unleashed her powers.