20-04-2019, 09:51 PM
"Right now, I'm just annoyed at you. If you put any more innocents in the crossfire, I'll upgrade that to Upset. There are a couple of levels after Upset, but that's the point at which our 'How Fucked Are You' packages begin. Talk to ya soon. To reiterate, leave these people alone or I'll make your head my new ashtray! Ciao!"
She waved to the air and signaled Ramirez that she was ready to go back to the car.
"You have my condolences, Mrs. Finnegan." Helen said as Ramirez started to turn her chair around.
"Wait," Mrs. Finnegan said. "My husband's... body. When'll it be returned, so we can..." She began choking on the words. Helen signaled Ramirez to stop and turn her back around.
"Mrs. Finnegan, I was attacked by an obsessed stalker and anti-science nut named Carlos Jimenez. That man's body is evidence in the investigation of the attempt on my life. When La Policia are done with him, I'll make sure he comes back to you, but I can't promise when that will be."
The older widow nodded her gratitude to the younger, and Helen and Ramirez departed.
* * *
The next night, Contessa Helena de San Finzione was practicing walking unaided from her bed to the balcony railing and back, working on keeping her leg strength after two weeks of being mostly idle in the wheelchair.
Running had been the first survival skill that Helen had learned, and thanks to her childhood, she was exceptionally good at it. It was what she would have done if she'd had another half-second to think before Morgan had been upon her. In high college, two things kept her from going out for the girls' track team: Wade not allowing extra-curricular activities, and the way the coach looked at her.
Once Wade was gone, she'd found the college language clubs, and threw herself into them instead; but by then, she was able to do The Thing and had experienced enough "special sleepovers" with Julie to understand why the coach looked at her that way. Helen had decided she wasn't so creepy after all; kind of hot, really. And so, shortly before graduation, although the coach never had Helen on her team in the field, Helen certainly had the coach on her team in the girls' showers.
She looked at the clock on the burner phone that she was holding. It was 11:28. She'd had her people go over the phone. It was a perfectly ordinary disposable phone, with no fingerprints but her own and Mrs. Finnegan's. It had been purchased with cash a month before, at a convenience store in Tralee that recycled their surveillance videos every two weeks. The clerk working that day had been let go shortly after.
"Track the clerk down," Helena had told her people. "Make sure she's ok. She probably won't remember him, but it's worth asking; and this guy's enough of a dick to have her killed just for seeing his face."
The clerk was unharmed, but didn't recall the customer from a job she'd quit a month ago. Helen made a mental note to let Susan know about it when they talked next; that not everything worked like Law & Order, where all the waitresses in busy New York diners have vivid, instant recall of "that guy in the red jacket who was in here about two weeks ago."
Her bedroom door opened, and Contessa-In-Reggenza Maria de San Finzione entered.
"Good evening, Great-Grandmama," Maria said as she entered the room, noting the little blue envelope on her nightstand that had been opened and was now propped up with the flap into a tent shape. She looked at Helena entering via the balcony doors; happy to see her on her feet again, even with wobbly steps. "How are you tonight?"
"Better, Dearest One," Helena responded with a warm smile as she made the last few steps to sit on the bed. Maria sat next to her. "How has your day been?"
She waved to the air and signaled Ramirez that she was ready to go back to the car.
"You have my condolences, Mrs. Finnegan." Helen said as Ramirez started to turn her chair around.
"Wait," Mrs. Finnegan said. "My husband's... body. When'll it be returned, so we can..." She began choking on the words. Helen signaled Ramirez to stop and turn her back around.
"Mrs. Finnegan, I was attacked by an obsessed stalker and anti-science nut named Carlos Jimenez. That man's body is evidence in the investigation of the attempt on my life. When La Policia are done with him, I'll make sure he comes back to you, but I can't promise when that will be."
The older widow nodded her gratitude to the younger, and Helen and Ramirez departed.
* * *
The next night, Contessa Helena de San Finzione was practicing walking unaided from her bed to the balcony railing and back, working on keeping her leg strength after two weeks of being mostly idle in the wheelchair.
Running had been the first survival skill that Helen had learned, and thanks to her childhood, she was exceptionally good at it. It was what she would have done if she'd had another half-second to think before Morgan had been upon her. In high college, two things kept her from going out for the girls' track team: Wade not allowing extra-curricular activities, and the way the coach looked at her.
Once Wade was gone, she'd found the college language clubs, and threw herself into them instead; but by then, she was able to do The Thing and had experienced enough "special sleepovers" with Julie to understand why the coach looked at her that way. Helen had decided she wasn't so creepy after all; kind of hot, really. And so, shortly before graduation, although the coach never had Helen on her team in the field, Helen certainly had the coach on her team in the girls' showers.
She looked at the clock on the burner phone that she was holding. It was 11:28. She'd had her people go over the phone. It was a perfectly ordinary disposable phone, with no fingerprints but her own and Mrs. Finnegan's. It had been purchased with cash a month before, at a convenience store in Tralee that recycled their surveillance videos every two weeks. The clerk working that day had been let go shortly after.
"Track the clerk down," Helena had told her people. "Make sure she's ok. She probably won't remember him, but it's worth asking; and this guy's enough of a dick to have her killed just for seeing his face."
The clerk was unharmed, but didn't recall the customer from a job she'd quit a month ago. Helen made a mental note to let Susan know about it when they talked next; that not everything worked like Law & Order, where all the waitresses in busy New York diners have vivid, instant recall of "that guy in the red jacket who was in here about two weeks ago."
Her bedroom door opened, and Contessa-In-Reggenza Maria de San Finzione entered.
"Good evening, Great-Grandmama," Maria said as she entered the room, noting the little blue envelope on her nightstand that had been opened and was now propped up with the flap into a tent shape. She looked at Helena entering via the balcony doors; happy to see her on her feet again, even with wobbly steps. "How are you tonight?"
"Better, Dearest One," Helena responded with a warm smile as she made the last few steps to sit on the bed. Maria sat next to her. "How has your day been?"
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