Cherry Bomb

CHAPTER 40

NOW THAT WAS GREAT. The only thing missing was sound. It would have been wonderful to hear Jack’s cries of anguish, Alan’s muffled screams, the zap of electricity. But then, the other patrons in the coffee shop might have complained.

Alex closes her laptop, then closes her eyes, reliving the scene in her head. Her favorite part had to be when Jack began CPR, not knowing that each time she pressed Alan’s chest, blood squirted out his ass. When she socked Phin-that was priceless too. The girl can hit hard. Jack was too self-absorbed to see Phin probe the inside of his mouth, pull out a tooth.

Yes, it worked much better than Alex could have hoped.

Now to concentrate on the next victim, the next phase of the plan.

Alex finishes her coffee, then gets back on the road. An hour later, she’s standing on the street corner in Chicago, hood up, sunglasses on, hands jammed into her pockets.

Winter will be here soon. Alex won’t miss it. Growing up in the Midwest, she has long outlived her fondness for snow and ice.

It will be so nice to go someplace where the only ice comes in drinks.

She stands there for twenty minutes before hearing a rumbling, up the street. Alex checks her watch as the truck passes by. Right on time. The first time she saw it, two weeks ago, was pure luck. Seeing it twice, same place, same time, isn’t luck. It’s a pattern.

It motors past, turning where it did before, and Alex jams her hands back into her pockets and heads for her car, parked in an alley a block away. She climbs in and heads north.

Ninety minutes later she’s back in her hotel room in Milwaukee, using the Internet to instruct her in the finer points of using cell phones as radio transmitters. Then she calls Samantha to plan their date.

“Is your neighbor going to babysit?”

“She said sure. Do you have a car?”

Alex considers the Prius, the dead yuppie still in the backseat.

“No. Do you?”

“Sure. Want me to pick you up at your place?”

Alex isn’t keen on letting Sam know where she’s staying.

“I’m already downtown. Why don’t we meet at a mall? Isn’t there one called Bayshore?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you at J. Jill. Great store. You’ll love it. When?”

“An hour?”

“Excellent!”

“Quick question. Have you ever done a bachelor party?”

“You mean like go to the guy’s house, give them lap dances, pick up twenties out of the groom’s mouth with my hoo-ha?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“Once. Didn’t pay too well, and the guys were assholes.”

“Did you do it outlaw, no agency?”

“No, I went through a local place, called Laugh-O-Grams. They also send birthday party clowns and stuff. You thinking of trying that?”

“Just keeping my options open. Looking forward to seeing you.”

And Alex is. Men are fine, but women have their own par tic u lar flavor, and in many ways are more fun. Alex can’t wait to get into Samantha’s pants. It will be the perfect end to a perfect day.