Read Online THE NEXT TO DIE by Kevin O'Brien - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kevin O'Brien
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cherry-stained dresser—all massing on the open bottom drawer.
Avery felt something tickle the top of his bare foot, and he swatted an ant away. Peering down into the drawer, he found what had attracted the swarm of black, crawling invaders. On top of his Irish knit sweater, someone had left a toy gun and a small baby doll—the kind usually dressed in a little bonnet and frock. But this doll had been stripped of its clothes, and swaddled in bloody, butcher-shop entrails. As the insects honed in on the rotting meat, they seemed to be devouring that cherub-faced toy baby.
With the police on their way, Avery and Joanne quickly got dressed. He’d managed to calm her down. He’d also taken care of the ant problem, using up a near-empty can of Raid. The smell of bug repellent drifted downstairs, where they now searched the house for anything that might have been stolen. None of Joanne’s jewelry was missing, and all their silverware remained intact. Avery checked the shelves in the living room. Every item was still in place.
“I think you’re right,” he called to Joanne. “Libby must be behind this. Nothing’s missing. She’s rich. She doesn’t want to steal anything, she just wants to harass us. She must have had one of her punks break in and plant that—that thing. She was always sending me sweaters. Not too subtle leaving it in my sweater drawer.”
He couldn’t stop wondering how the hell they’d made it past the security system. “Joanne?” he called. “Did you go out yesterday?”
“We met with Dr. Nathan, remember?” she called back to him. Her voice was still a little shaky.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he muttered. They’d had an appointment with their fertility specialist. “Did you set the alarm before you left the house?”
“No, and I’m sorry, okay?” she called back, exasperated. “I’m never home long enough to memorize the stupid code.”
The telephone rang.
“Ignore it,” he yelled. “It’s probably one of Libby’s boys again.” He could hear the answering machine in his study.
“…leave a message after the beep,” the recording said. Then his own voice came on the phone: “Hey, honey…God, look at you. You’re so sexy…”
He started toward the study. Joanne met him in the hallway. “Avery? What’s going on?”
In the study his recorded voice kept talking over her: “I’m so hard. See what you’re doing to me? Come here…”
Joanne clutched his arm. “What is that?” Tears came to her eyes as she listened to the sound of her own laughter.
“Oh, you wicked, wicked girl,” he said on the recording.
“Jesus, they have our videotape,” Avery murmured.
He hurried upstairs to the bedroom, still stinking of bug repellent. He headed toward the dresser, where Libby’s errand boy had left that grisly calling card. A few surviving ants crawled amid the dead.
Avery could hear the police siren drawing near. He pulled open the drawer second to the top. He frantically dug through the underwear. T-shirts and shorts fell to the floor as he searched in vain for the videotape.
“Oh, God, no,” he muttered.
The tape of Joanne and him making love was gone.
Five
“Thank you for your patience this morning,” the flight attendant announced. “As soon as we’ve reached cruising altitude, we will begin our beverage service….”
The plane had been delayed two hours. A limo had whisked Dayle to the airport at 6:30 A.M. , only so she could wait and wait. She spent the time studying her script and reviewing today’s scenes to the point of overkill. From the VIP Lounge, she was the last person to board the plane; and thanks to first class seating, she’d be the first to leave.
Her head tipped back and eyes closed, Dayle didn’t dare look at the damn script again. Nor did she feel like chatting with the boring businessman in the aisle seat, who unfortunately recognized her. If she feigned sleep, the guy might leave her alone, and maybe she’d even drift off for
Avery felt something tickle the top of his bare foot, and he swatted an ant away. Peering down into the drawer, he found what had attracted the swarm of black, crawling invaders. On top of his Irish knit sweater, someone had left a toy gun and a small baby doll—the kind usually dressed in a little bonnet and frock. But this doll had been stripped of its clothes, and swaddled in bloody, butcher-shop entrails. As the insects honed in on the rotting meat, they seemed to be devouring that cherub-faced toy baby.
With the police on their way, Avery and Joanne quickly got dressed. He’d managed to calm her down. He’d also taken care of the ant problem, using up a near-empty can of Raid. The smell of bug repellent drifted downstairs, where they now searched the house for anything that might have been stolen. None of Joanne’s jewelry was missing, and all their silverware remained intact. Avery checked the shelves in the living room. Every item was still in place.
“I think you’re right,” he called to Joanne. “Libby must be behind this. Nothing’s missing. She’s rich. She doesn’t want to steal anything, she just wants to harass us. She must have had one of her punks break in and plant that—that thing. She was always sending me sweaters. Not too subtle leaving it in my sweater drawer.”
He couldn’t stop wondering how the hell they’d made it past the security system. “Joanne?” he called. “Did you go out yesterday?”
“We met with Dr. Nathan, remember?” she called back to him. Her voice was still a little shaky.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he muttered. They’d had an appointment with their fertility specialist. “Did you set the alarm before you left the house?”
“No, and I’m sorry, okay?” she called back, exasperated. “I’m never home long enough to memorize the stupid code.”
The telephone rang.
“Ignore it,” he yelled. “It’s probably one of Libby’s boys again.” He could hear the answering machine in his study.
“…leave a message after the beep,” the recording said. Then his own voice came on the phone: “Hey, honey…God, look at you. You’re so sexy…”
He started toward the study. Joanne met him in the hallway. “Avery? What’s going on?”
In the study his recorded voice kept talking over her: “I’m so hard. See what you’re doing to me? Come here…”
Joanne clutched his arm. “What is that?” Tears came to her eyes as she listened to the sound of her own laughter.
“Oh, you wicked, wicked girl,” he said on the recording.
“Jesus, they have our videotape,” Avery murmured.
He hurried upstairs to the bedroom, still stinking of bug repellent. He headed toward the dresser, where Libby’s errand boy had left that grisly calling card. A few surviving ants crawled amid the dead.
Avery could hear the police siren drawing near. He pulled open the drawer second to the top. He frantically dug through the underwear. T-shirts and shorts fell to the floor as he searched in vain for the videotape.
“Oh, God, no,” he muttered.
The tape of Joanne and him making love was gone.
Five
“Thank you for your patience this morning,” the flight attendant announced. “As soon as we’ve reached cruising altitude, we will begin our beverage service….”
The plane had been delayed two hours. A limo had whisked Dayle to the airport at 6:30 A.M. , only so she could wait and wait. She spent the time studying her script and reviewing today’s scenes to the point of overkill. From the VIP Lounge, she was the last person to board the plane; and thanks to first class seating, she’d be the first to leave.
Her head tipped back and eyes closed, Dayle didn’t dare look at the damn script again. Nor did she feel like chatting with the boring businessman in the aisle seat, who unfortunately recognized her. If she feigned sleep, the guy might leave her alone, and maybe she’d even drift off for
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