ugly and repugnant things that are sometimes in vogue, it would seem as though fashion were desirous of exhibiting its power by getting us to adopt the most atrocious things for its sake alone.
—GEORG SIMMEL
“What are you playing at, Dominique DeLong?” I called, looking around, as if I might see her ghost. “Are you starring as a puppeteer or casting me in the role of Alice in Wonderland? Because I’m feeling curiouser and curiouser.”
I turned her note over to find a winking happy face.
“Damn. Do you expect this outfit to give me a vision?” God knew I’d already had more visions during this case than in any other of my experience, probably because of my heart connection to the deceased. God also knew how many more there’d be. I eyed the peignoir set and shivered. If Dom knew she was in danger, she’d been playing it for all it was worth and seemed to damn well revel in the game.
No. No one sets themselves up to die, least of all Dom with her joie de vivre, her zest for life. On the other hand, she’d been in show business for years and more than a bit jaded over the entertainment industry. Once a Broadway actress, she’d been knocked down a peg in the eyes of theater society when she accepted the leading role in an off-Broadway production. I couldn’t quite forget the vision I’d had of her in that crazy seventies room telling someone with a Frankenstein voice and wielding a Hula-hoop that it would be foolish for them to steal the diamonds.
I sighed, giving in to the inevitable, undressed, showered, and put on Dom’s peignoir set, ambivalent about the vision it might, or might not, afford me. At this point, I needed to know every detail about Dominique’s murder, whether I wanted to or not. I had no sooner moved the Taser from my dress to the peignoir set pocket when a lethargic dizziness came over me, making my limbs feel heavy and not my own, the kind of warning that often presages a lengthy vision.
I hadn’t made it to the bed when my cell phone rang. I worked to fight the vision sucking me under as I answered, sounding a bit tipsy, even to my own ears.
“Go back to Connecticut or end up like your friend,” my caller said through a voice modulator that made the speaker sound like some kind of robot werewolf. I might be drunk on psychic energy, but I was smart enough to fear the threat more than the fake voice.
I hung up the phone in panic and turned so fast, I smacked my head against the open closet door and heard my phone hit the floor.
Not even the caller would expect me to get out of Dodge until tomorrow, so I didn’t think the threat was immediate. Just as well because I needed badly to lie down. Scrap it, I wished I was thinking more clearly.
I set a knee on the bed, my racing heart beginning to calm when my doorknob began to turn.
In danger of zoning into the vision seducing me, it occurred to me that the call might have been made from inside the house.
Unable to defend myself against a kitten, much less a killer, I slipped the Taser from my pocket and made my clumsy way to the door, needing to grab whatever I could to hold me up along the way.
I intended to lock the door, but it opened too fast, so I zapped the intruder—possibly the caller—with a knee-jerk move so swift and forceful, I surprised even me. The twitching body hit the floor like a tree trunk, spasmed a couple more times, and stopped moving entirely. Out cold, or dead.
The possibility snapped me back from the edge like a faceful of ice water. I switched on the light. “Werner?”
I got down beside him and tapped his face. Failing to rouse him, I pried open an eyelid. “Are you in there? Please be alive.”
He groaned but didn’t wake. Whew.
I considered running but the vision in the peignoir set was still pulling me in, playing on my need to solve Dom’s murder.
I got Werner on Dom’s bed, though doing it sapped my fight against the black hole sucking me in.
He half helped as I got his torso, then
—GEORG SIMMEL
“What are you playing at, Dominique DeLong?” I called, looking around, as if I might see her ghost. “Are you starring as a puppeteer or casting me in the role of Alice in Wonderland? Because I’m feeling curiouser and curiouser.”
I turned her note over to find a winking happy face.
“Damn. Do you expect this outfit to give me a vision?” God knew I’d already had more visions during this case than in any other of my experience, probably because of my heart connection to the deceased. God also knew how many more there’d be. I eyed the peignoir set and shivered. If Dom knew she was in danger, she’d been playing it for all it was worth and seemed to damn well revel in the game.
No. No one sets themselves up to die, least of all Dom with her joie de vivre, her zest for life. On the other hand, she’d been in show business for years and more than a bit jaded over the entertainment industry. Once a Broadway actress, she’d been knocked down a peg in the eyes of theater society when she accepted the leading role in an off-Broadway production. I couldn’t quite forget the vision I’d had of her in that crazy seventies room telling someone with a Frankenstein voice and wielding a Hula-hoop that it would be foolish for them to steal the diamonds.
I sighed, giving in to the inevitable, undressed, showered, and put on Dom’s peignoir set, ambivalent about the vision it might, or might not, afford me. At this point, I needed to know every detail about Dominique’s murder, whether I wanted to or not. I had no sooner moved the Taser from my dress to the peignoir set pocket when a lethargic dizziness came over me, making my limbs feel heavy and not my own, the kind of warning that often presages a lengthy vision.
I hadn’t made it to the bed when my cell phone rang. I worked to fight the vision sucking me under as I answered, sounding a bit tipsy, even to my own ears.
“Go back to Connecticut or end up like your friend,” my caller said through a voice modulator that made the speaker sound like some kind of robot werewolf. I might be drunk on psychic energy, but I was smart enough to fear the threat more than the fake voice.
I hung up the phone in panic and turned so fast, I smacked my head against the open closet door and heard my phone hit the floor.
Not even the caller would expect me to get out of Dodge until tomorrow, so I didn’t think the threat was immediate. Just as well because I needed badly to lie down. Scrap it, I wished I was thinking more clearly.
I set a knee on the bed, my racing heart beginning to calm when my doorknob began to turn.
In danger of zoning into the vision seducing me, it occurred to me that the call might have been made from inside the house.
Unable to defend myself against a kitten, much less a killer, I slipped the Taser from my pocket and made my clumsy way to the door, needing to grab whatever I could to hold me up along the way.
I intended to lock the door, but it opened too fast, so I zapped the intruder—possibly the caller—with a knee-jerk move so swift and forceful, I surprised even me. The twitching body hit the floor like a tree trunk, spasmed a couple more times, and stopped moving entirely. Out cold, or dead.
The possibility snapped me back from the edge like a faceful of ice water. I switched on the light. “Werner?”
I got down beside him and tapped his face. Failing to rouse him, I pried open an eyelid. “Are you in there? Please be alive.”
He groaned but didn’t wake. Whew.
I considered running but the vision in the peignoir set was still pulling me in, playing on my need to solve Dom’s murder.
I got Werner on Dom’s bed, though doing it sapped my fight against the black hole sucking me in.
He half helped as I got his torso, then
Similar Books
