Read Online Tea and Tomahawks by Leanore Elliott, Dahlia DeWinters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Leanore Elliott, Dahlia DeWinters
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was on a mission, and he was going to complete it. Richard stepped down one step and gripped the wooden rungs of the banister.
Lise hit him again, this time against the side of his head. His ear burned. The old biddy was going to put up a fight.
“She’s going to fight you, Annie is.” Lise hissed at him. “She’s got fighting blood in her. It won’t be easy for you.” She raised her cane again.
Why won’t this woman just fall? He ignored her useless chatter. “Easy enough,” he said. He raised his foot, planted it in her chest and pushed her backward.
He’d thought she would scream for Annie or shout, but she tumbled to the bottom of the stairs without a sound. The bumps and thumps of her body could have been mistaken for thunder in the storm raging outside.
Richard hurried to the bathroom, where he’d left the light on. He flushed the toilet, washed his hands and turned off the light. He stood there in the dark for a moment, squeezing his fists together and trying to contain his excitement. From what he’d seen in the gloom, there was no way the old woman could have survived the fall. He was sure of it.
Richard opened the bathroom door and listened the breathing of his drugged wife. He wanted to shake her awake and tell her what he’d done and how things would go from now on. Instead, he took a deep breath of quiet satisfaction. Everything was his now. Everything.
He climbed into bed next to his Annie and fell quickly asleep.
~* * * *~
Annie’s piercing screams woke him too early in the morning. He pushed his hair off his forehead and stumbled to the stairwell. By the time he’d reached his wife, her screams had dissolved into sobs. She stroked the dead woman’s hair, arranging the twists into less disarray.
Resisting the urge to smile at his handiwork, Richard turned on the role of doting, caring husband. “Oh my God. Annie! Did she fall? Did you call 911?” He knelt beside the old woman’s body and felt for a pulse. “I’m sorry Annie. I don’t feel a heartbeat.” Of course he didn’t, the woman was cool to the touch. “Why don’t we call an ambulance.”
“Okay.” Tears streaked her face, and her voice was dull. “But I know she’s dead. She must have tripped and fallen last night during the storm. Annie sniffed. “But we have to call somebody.” She looked up at him, realization dawning on her face. “Oh my God, Richard. She’s dead!” She broke into fresh sobs.
He knelt and put his arms around her, drawing her up and away from her Grandmother’s body. “Come to the kitchen,” he said. The weakness of her body next to his thrilled him. She was completely under his power now. The old woman could no longer interfere. After a decent amount of time, he’d call in an appraiser. After, of course, the reading of the will.
He helped her sit in a chair and put on the coffee pot. “Drink the coffee.” He smoothed the horrid twists on her head. “I”ll make some calls.”
~* * * *~
Shivering, Annie sipped at the coffee her husband had brewed for her. She tried to banish the image of her grandmother, lying all twisted and bent at the bottom of the steps. It was horrifying.
“The police and the ambulance should be here in about fifteen minutes.” Richard placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to go up and get dressed. I promise I won’t be a minute.”
Annie nodded and took another sip of the scalding hot coffee. What was to become of her now? Grandmother had been her touchstone of strength and common sense. Still holding the coffee cup, she wandered into the parlor and stared at the Seminole Wars painting. Her scrap of a bonnet still hung from a bush and the buildings were still burnt.
And…her grandmother was dead.
Her knees buckled, and she fell into the overstuffed chair Grandmother Lise favored. The coffee slopped into her lap. The room still smelled of her cherry tobacco smoke and lemon mint. Annie placed the coffee cup on the floor, no
Lise hit him again, this time against the side of his head. His ear burned. The old biddy was going to put up a fight.
“She’s going to fight you, Annie is.” Lise hissed at him. “She’s got fighting blood in her. It won’t be easy for you.” She raised her cane again.
Why won’t this woman just fall? He ignored her useless chatter. “Easy enough,” he said. He raised his foot, planted it in her chest and pushed her backward.
He’d thought she would scream for Annie or shout, but she tumbled to the bottom of the stairs without a sound. The bumps and thumps of her body could have been mistaken for thunder in the storm raging outside.
Richard hurried to the bathroom, where he’d left the light on. He flushed the toilet, washed his hands and turned off the light. He stood there in the dark for a moment, squeezing his fists together and trying to contain his excitement. From what he’d seen in the gloom, there was no way the old woman could have survived the fall. He was sure of it.
Richard opened the bathroom door and listened the breathing of his drugged wife. He wanted to shake her awake and tell her what he’d done and how things would go from now on. Instead, he took a deep breath of quiet satisfaction. Everything was his now. Everything.
He climbed into bed next to his Annie and fell quickly asleep.
~* * * *~
Annie’s piercing screams woke him too early in the morning. He pushed his hair off his forehead and stumbled to the stairwell. By the time he’d reached his wife, her screams had dissolved into sobs. She stroked the dead woman’s hair, arranging the twists into less disarray.
Resisting the urge to smile at his handiwork, Richard turned on the role of doting, caring husband. “Oh my God. Annie! Did she fall? Did you call 911?” He knelt beside the old woman’s body and felt for a pulse. “I’m sorry Annie. I don’t feel a heartbeat.” Of course he didn’t, the woman was cool to the touch. “Why don’t we call an ambulance.”
“Okay.” Tears streaked her face, and her voice was dull. “But I know she’s dead. She must have tripped and fallen last night during the storm. Annie sniffed. “But we have to call somebody.” She looked up at him, realization dawning on her face. “Oh my God, Richard. She’s dead!” She broke into fresh sobs.
He knelt and put his arms around her, drawing her up and away from her Grandmother’s body. “Come to the kitchen,” he said. The weakness of her body next to his thrilled him. She was completely under his power now. The old woman could no longer interfere. After a decent amount of time, he’d call in an appraiser. After, of course, the reading of the will.
He helped her sit in a chair and put on the coffee pot. “Drink the coffee.” He smoothed the horrid twists on her head. “I”ll make some calls.”
~* * * *~
Shivering, Annie sipped at the coffee her husband had brewed for her. She tried to banish the image of her grandmother, lying all twisted and bent at the bottom of the steps. It was horrifying.
“The police and the ambulance should be here in about fifteen minutes.” Richard placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to go up and get dressed. I promise I won’t be a minute.”
Annie nodded and took another sip of the scalding hot coffee. What was to become of her now? Grandmother had been her touchstone of strength and common sense. Still holding the coffee cup, she wandered into the parlor and stared at the Seminole Wars painting. Her scrap of a bonnet still hung from a bush and the buildings were still burnt.
And…her grandmother was dead.
Her knees buckled, and she fell into the overstuffed chair Grandmother Lise favored. The coffee slopped into her lap. The room still smelled of her cherry tobacco smoke and lemon mint. Annie placed the coffee cup on the floor, no
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