Read Online Hotter than Helen (The "Bobby's Diner" Series) by Susan Wingate - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Wingate
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her stomach tied in knots for weeks.
Gangster whispered out a raspy yowl. She wiped her mouth with her arm. Looking at Gangster, her mind spinning in all directions. She noticed him but didn’t all at the same time.
“Hey, cat.” Her words were as brisk as her steps past him. She practically leapt over him.
Gangster ambled a few steps after Helen but stopped in the living room where he jumped up on the couch and began washing his face.
A thick lump bubbled up into her throat on the way to her room—the guest room, she corrected herself.
Flipping through papers on the desk, she found a blank piece to write on.
Swallowing hard, trying to make the knot in her throat subside, she grabbed at her stomach, sat down and flung open a drawer. Finding a pen, she pushed the drawer back in hard, causing it to sound like a slap across the face. Then, she rubbed her fist into her gut. The pain had intensified over the past week, since leaving Georgette’s and getting a room at the hotel.
After writing the beginning, after starting her letter to Georgette off with an apology, she began crying again. The embarrassment had started with her own husband. Why couldn’t she shake his ghost? He still haunted her.
After finishing the note, explaining everything, how Pinzer contacted her in Seattle, out of the blue and how the idea seemed almost too simple, too perfect. But after realizing she could slip back into life in Sunnydale, how nothing of his plan needed to go through, how she didn’t need Pinzer at all, she decided she would just back out. She and Georgette could just as easily have become business partners. There really would be no reason to “dispose of ” anyone. Life could just go on as if Pinzer had never contacted her.
But then Hawthorne happened. They became involved and she unraveled when he exposed his true intentions.
She laid the letter out clearly so when Georgette came to clear her things from the room, she would find it and understand how Helen had changed her mind about the whole thing. How she was merely a dupe in Pinzer’s scheme.
But, as she began to tongue the flap of the envelope, she heard the rumbling sound of an engine. She heard it pull into the driveway, then stop.
Helen jumped at the silence the truck left when the engine died. Still gripping the envelope, she folded the lip inside itself.
Peering out from the hall, she spotted Hawthorne’s truck. He’d found her.
Helen heard two doors slam, then men’s voices nearing the house.
She couldn’t remember if she’d relocked the kitchen door.
She peeked out into the hall. Except for Gangster sitting by the door, her path to the bathroom was clear. She slipped across the hall and ducked inside. The cat slipped in behind her. Helen didn’t notice he’d followed her. Then she clicked the door locked. The bathroom had a second door that led directly into the garage.
The men pounded at the front door. Then it was quiet.
Then she heard the door open.
And heard it slamming shut.
Trying to make no noise, she sneaked open the garage door and hoped they wouldn’t find her in there. But, as the thought occurred, Hawthorne spoke just outside of the bathroom in the hallway.
“Helen, honey. Don’t make this difficult. Open the freaking door.” He jiggled the bathroom door’s knob. Gangster wrapped around her legs and jumped.
Then she heard their footsteps pad away. They were walking into her old room.
She looked down at the envelope in her sweaty palm. Turning the knob slowly, making no sound, Helen opened the door, letting the cat follow her as she crept into the garage.
“Check the door again,” his voice boomed. They had returned to the bathroom. She could hear the bathroom door jiggling again.
He started talking to her. “I know you’re in there, Helen. Your car’s outside, Helen.” He said it in a sing-song-y manner, taunting her then the sound of something being inserted into the small hole of the doorknob in an effort to
Gangster whispered out a raspy yowl. She wiped her mouth with her arm. Looking at Gangster, her mind spinning in all directions. She noticed him but didn’t all at the same time.
“Hey, cat.” Her words were as brisk as her steps past him. She practically leapt over him.
Gangster ambled a few steps after Helen but stopped in the living room where he jumped up on the couch and began washing his face.
A thick lump bubbled up into her throat on the way to her room—the guest room, she corrected herself.
Flipping through papers on the desk, she found a blank piece to write on.
Swallowing hard, trying to make the knot in her throat subside, she grabbed at her stomach, sat down and flung open a drawer. Finding a pen, she pushed the drawer back in hard, causing it to sound like a slap across the face. Then, she rubbed her fist into her gut. The pain had intensified over the past week, since leaving Georgette’s and getting a room at the hotel.
After writing the beginning, after starting her letter to Georgette off with an apology, she began crying again. The embarrassment had started with her own husband. Why couldn’t she shake his ghost? He still haunted her.
After finishing the note, explaining everything, how Pinzer contacted her in Seattle, out of the blue and how the idea seemed almost too simple, too perfect. But after realizing she could slip back into life in Sunnydale, how nothing of his plan needed to go through, how she didn’t need Pinzer at all, she decided she would just back out. She and Georgette could just as easily have become business partners. There really would be no reason to “dispose of ” anyone. Life could just go on as if Pinzer had never contacted her.
But then Hawthorne happened. They became involved and she unraveled when he exposed his true intentions.
She laid the letter out clearly so when Georgette came to clear her things from the room, she would find it and understand how Helen had changed her mind about the whole thing. How she was merely a dupe in Pinzer’s scheme.
But, as she began to tongue the flap of the envelope, she heard the rumbling sound of an engine. She heard it pull into the driveway, then stop.
Helen jumped at the silence the truck left when the engine died. Still gripping the envelope, she folded the lip inside itself.
Peering out from the hall, she spotted Hawthorne’s truck. He’d found her.
Helen heard two doors slam, then men’s voices nearing the house.
She couldn’t remember if she’d relocked the kitchen door.
She peeked out into the hall. Except for Gangster sitting by the door, her path to the bathroom was clear. She slipped across the hall and ducked inside. The cat slipped in behind her. Helen didn’t notice he’d followed her. Then she clicked the door locked. The bathroom had a second door that led directly into the garage.
The men pounded at the front door. Then it was quiet.
Then she heard the door open.
And heard it slamming shut.
Trying to make no noise, she sneaked open the garage door and hoped they wouldn’t find her in there. But, as the thought occurred, Hawthorne spoke just outside of the bathroom in the hallway.
“Helen, honey. Don’t make this difficult. Open the freaking door.” He jiggled the bathroom door’s knob. Gangster wrapped around her legs and jumped.
Then she heard their footsteps pad away. They were walking into her old room.
She looked down at the envelope in her sweaty palm. Turning the knob slowly, making no sound, Helen opened the door, letting the cat follow her as she crept into the garage.
“Check the door again,” his voice boomed. They had returned to the bathroom. She could hear the bathroom door jiggling again.
He started talking to her. “I know you’re in there, Helen. Your car’s outside, Helen.” He said it in a sing-song-y manner, taunting her then the sound of something being inserted into the small hole of the doorknob in an effort to
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