Every Wickedness Read Free Page B

climate to the blistering heat that rose relentlessly from Manhattan’s miles of pavement. But tonight the wind whistled mournfully, adding an eerie melody to the preternatural quiet. It was as if some alien craft had descended and plucked the street’s inhabitants, their radios, and televisions, from their roosts, all vanishing without a trace.
    “Idiot,” she said aloud, her voice sounding oddly disembodied as it was swallowed by the wind.
    Everyone was inside. Everyone except Tim O’Malley. As Beth approached her front steps, Tim emerged from the house next door. Thirty-four years old, Tim was always on the go, but he still managed to find time to prune the shrubs on his lush rooftop garden. Tim moved toward his freshly waxedwhite van, his company name, “Wearing of the Green,” proudly displayed on the side. The landscape architect’s well-respected name was attached to several of the city’s loveliest gardens, and many overseas as well.
    “Big night tonight, Tim?” Beth called out across the grassy median separating her home from his.
    He grinned when he saw her. “Thought I’d grab some dinner, maybe hit a few clubs later. Usual Friday night stuff. How ’bout you?”
    “Something tamer. I’m exhausted.”
    “I watered your evergreens,” he said, pointing to the pair of conical boxwoods in large terra cotta pots that flanked the entrance to her home. “Hope you don’t mind. They dry out pretty fast in those containers. Oh yeah, your heartthrob’s been by on his skateboard.”
    “Bobby? What did he want?”
    Bobby Chandler was Beth’s paperboy, a fourteen-year-old with a huge crush on Beth, which Tim apparently found amusing. “Probably wanted to wash your car again. Maybe walk your cat.”
    “Poor Bobby,” Beth said. “I’m old enough to be his … older sister. I hope you didn’t tease him.” Beth sized up Tim’s muscular build, bright smile, and sandy blond hair. Was it her imagination or was Tim sizing her up, too?
    “Nah, but I can’t figure out why you’re so nice to him,” Tim said. “You might be giving him ideas.”
    Beth shook her head. “Bobby’s just lonely.” Loneliness was something Tim O’Malley, with his
GQ
good looks, would probably never understand. Even back in Eureka Springs, a fourteen-year-old who still had a paper route was a geek. Beth felt sorry for Bobby, though she had to admit he’d been hanging around more often than she wanted lately.
    “Speaking of lonely,” Tim said, “look over there.”
    In-line skating his way along the sidewalk was Bobby Chandler.

7
    “H ey guys!” Bobby Chandler called out as he approached. At the foot of Beth’s driveway, he attempted a quick stop but failed, narrowly avoiding a collision with a no parking sign.
    “Bobby, when are you going to get shin guards?” Beth asked when Bobby regained equilibrium. Judging from the condition of his knees, this wasn’t Bobby’s first mishap.
    “And a helmet,” Tim O’Malley added.
    Bobby ignored Tim, keeping his gaze riveted on Beth. “That equipment’s for wimps. Besides, I’ll have my stops down pat in a few days. Just takes practise.” He flashed Beth a toothy grin. “Soon, I’ll be as good on these as I am on my skateboard.” Many of Bobby’s weekends were spent practising skateboard stunts on the flat pavement at the Embarcadero Centre with dozens of other young teenagers who had nothing better to do.
    “Hey, Beth,” Bobby said, “where you been tonight?”
    “Way to go, Ace,” Tim muttered. “Subtle as a brick through a window.”
    “I was just asking,” Bobby continued, his voice taking on a petulant whine, “because Beth’s not usually late on Fridays. I was worried.”
    “That’s sweet, Bobby,” Beth said and meant it, though she hoped he interpreted the word “sweet” the way she’d intended it. “I was downtown, at that police information night.”
    “The Spiderman thing,” Tim said. “I was there too, for awhile. Funny we didn’t spot