Kill Jill Read Free Page B

Russell?”
    “Not yet. But from what I hear, you came into town with no suitcase, no purse, dirty clothes, and a substantial amount of cash.”
    “Is there a local ordinance against any of those things?”
    “Not if the money’s rightly yours.”
    “Good to know.”
    “Is it?”
    “What?”
    “The money. Is it yours?”
    “How much money are you carrying, Sheriff?”
    “That’s not really your business, is it, Miss Watson?”
    “It seems reasonable for you to answer the same questions you’re asking me. And by the way, my name’s Emma Wilson , not Watson.”
    “Can I see your ID?”
    “Can I see yours?”
    “I don’t have to be civil here, Miss Wilson. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. You can’t just take over a man’s house without showing proof you’ve been invited here.”
    She fishes her ID from her pocket, hands it to him. He photographs it with his cell phone camera and says, “Can you confirm your date of birth?”
    She does.
    He returns her license. Then says, “What’s your relationship with Jack Russell?”
    “What’s your relationship with Linda Craig?”
    His face grows beet red. “I’ll give you ten seconds to furnish proof of your right to be here.”
    “Or what?”
    “Or you can spend the night in my jail.”
    They glare at each other a minute.
    “I’m not playing around with you,” he says.
    “Your wife will be pleased to hear that, I expect.”
    She removes a folded piece of paper from her new purse and hands it over. As Cox unfolds it she says, “The letter you’re reading is addressed to you, Sheriff. It’s in Jack Russell’s hand, authorizing me to stay in his lake house as long as I see fit. Read a little further and you’ll see he admits to being my fiancé. He also authorizes me to use his personal credit card. At the end he asks you to extend me every kindness you’d show a new resident of Willow Lake, since it’s his wish we eventually marry and settle down here.”
    Sheriff Cox studies the letter a few minutes. Then says, “You’re quite the little gold digger, aren’t you, Emma?”
    “I’ll take that as a compliment, Sheriff.”
    “Don’t.”

After Sheriff Cox leaves, Emma takes her new pre-paid phone from her purse and presses a button on her speed dial for the fourth time today.
    When the young man answers, Emma asks if Fanny has shown up for work yet. He says no, and asks if she’d like to leave a message. Emma says no, and asks for Fanny’s cell phone number. He says he’s not allowed to give out personal information. Emma sighs, and apologizes for bothering him.
    She retrieves the new stepladder from the hall closet. Sets it up near the master bathroom toilet, then opens the bathroom door. Standing on the fourth step of the ladder, she pulls a permanent marker from her jeans’ pocket and writes her new cell phone number on the top edge of the door. Then puts the stepladder back in the hall closet, goes to the laundry room, transfers the sheets and towels to the dryer, and sets the time.
    Then she walks to the back of the house to check out the closet where Jack keeps his freezer.
    9:45 p.m.
    After folding her laundry and making her bed, Emma fluffs three pillows, props herself against them, opens the pack of balloons she bought at the Jessup Mall party store. It’s an assortment of twenty-four balloons, all colors, shapes, sizes. She closes her eyes, sniffs the latex. Lets her fingers pick through the bag. Touches and rubs the stretchy texture. She hears herself murmur, and smiles with mild embarrassment.
    She opens her eyes, selects a pink one.
    Stretches it, to enhance the scent, and weaken its structure.
    Puts the valve to her lips.
    Chews it gently, allowing her tongue to flit around the rim, back and forth, up and down.
    Breathing heavily, she works her tongue inside the valve, and feels her pulse quicken. She stops momentarily, to calm herself, then turns her attention back to the balloon, takes a deep breath, and begins