Until I Die Again [On The Way To Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) (15 page)

“But he’s capable of it, isn’t he?”

“Oh, I can remember a time or two. He’s capable, if he wants to forgive. You have to convince him that he does. Remember, you can’t replace what you’ve taken from him. You’ll have to work on building it back again, bit by bit.”

She sat up straight in her chair. “I can be just as stubborn as he is. And I want this to work more than he doesn’t want it to work.”

He laughed. “Well, if anything, it’ll make a great story.”

Their lunch went from serious to lighthearted to outright fun. Dave told her about incidents from high school and college. He had her in gales of laughter on the telling of the swim meet when Jamie dove in and his bathing suit slid down his legs. He managed to get his suit up and finish in second place. His nickname for the rest of the season was “Buns” DiBarto.

“I wish IdI’d known Jamie then. I think we would have gotten along great.” Back when she was plain old Chris with no ego hang-ups.

Dave glanced at his watch, then tossed his napkin on the table. “Hallie, I never thought I’d say this to you, but I wish you luck.”

“Thanks for having lunch with me. I feel as if I know Jamie so much better now. And most importantly, thank you for your encouragement. It means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

He waved just before disappearing through the door. Hallie had achieved the two goals she’d set out to reach during this lunch. And she’d figured out what she was going to do about the gem. She had learned more about Jamie, and she’d won Dave’s confidence. Now she was going to break into his house as Hallie had done not long ago. This time, she would be replacing the Manderlay. And it wasn’t going to be any easier than stealing it had probably been.

Two thirty-two in the morning. Hallie would have liked to think her internal alarm was precise, but the truth was, she hadn’t gone to sleep since putting her head on the pillow at eleven. Nevertheless, she was up, wide-eyed and ready to become a thief. Of sorts.

“This one should go down in the history books,” she mumbled as she flicked on the light over the dressing table. “A reverse thief.”

She opened a drawer and pulled out the gloves of royal blue and the pot of eyeliner. A black ski cap, culled from the winter clothes section in the closet, joined the gloves. She was already wearing black jeans and a navy jersey.

She dipped her pinky finger in the trickle of water from the faucet and rubbed it in the black eyeliner. A smear on her cheeks, nose, chin and forehead, and damn her shaking fingers! Not that she was trying to be precise, but the waves made her look even stranger, like a demented Indian warrior. The thin smear over her lips turned into a grotesque parody of a smile.

“Damn!” She slapped her palms down on the table top, then stopped with held breath. She gave herself a chastising look in the mirror, imagining Jamie waking up and coming in to find her dressed like a refugee from a campy bank robbery movie.

“I’m practicing for my role in
The Color Purple
,” she imagined herself telling the shocked Jamie. “Sleep-dressing? Ah, my new mud mask, that’s it.”

After a quick glance into the darkened bedroom, just for her blood pressure’s sake, she continued putting the finishing touches to cover all that pale, reflective skin. Then she slipped on the cap and the gloves, the only ones she could find besides bulky knit ones. They went up to her elbow, and matched a gown hanging in the closet. Without much remorse, she took them off and cut them to normal length with a pair of tiny scissors before putting them on again. Another look in the mirror with a pose fit for
Vogue
.

“Mama sure taught her daughter how to put on the nines,” she said with a grin, her teeth glowing white against her darkened skin.

Getting out of the house wasn’t so bad, but getting over to Dave’s without the Porsche engine waking one and all was the trickier part. Luckily, she had the foresight to run into a little car trouble halfway down the drive the night before, and had insisted on leaving it there until the morning. Those darn foreign engines.

Once at Dave’s house, her heart really started doing the can-can. She crept across the lawn, hoping the lack of walls didn’t mean the presence of sophisticated sensors. By the time she reached the front entrance, flanked by ominous-looking bushes, those worries were replaced by new ones: getting in. Of course, she knew the combination: 16372. She punched in the numbers, holding her breath. Sixteen for Bernice; three for her shelties; and seventy-two, for the Camaro. The click signaled success, and she turned the knob.

For a moment she waited, listening for barking dogs, the sound of a television, of an ant crossing the window sill. Her heart started beating to the rhythmic
tick, tick, tick
of the clock that had nearly made her jump a second before. Beyond that, the house was quiet.

She stepped inside, careful to leave the door cracked for a quick escape. A soft light beneath the black leather couch in the living room gave the room a surreal look. She patted her pocket for the twentieth time since leaving Theresa’s house, making sure the Manderlay was still nestled there. Then she made her way toward the square nook just past the living room. Thankfully the light was out.

Her fingers closed against the leftover cloth from her blue gloves, pulling out the precious package. As she released the Manderlay, it slipped from her grasp and jumped two feet away over the marble and onto the thick carpet. She cringed, waiting to hear the noise that would bust her. Or make her break-in futile by cracking the stone. Neither happened, and she dropped down where she’d heard its soft thud.

The white carpet looked scarcely lighter than black in the darkness, and she finally removed her gloves and scanned the floor with her bare fingers. The smooth surface caught the attention of her left hand, and she snatched it up and stood. Regaining her orientation, she stepped carefully back onto the marble and toward the nook.

Standing in front of the case, she rubbed the gem clean on her prints, then held it between her black lips for a second as she slipped her gloves back on. No more mistakes, she told herself, and reached into the hole to place the Manderlay back on its brass stand.

She blinked in the sudden light, and black lights pooled in front of her until her eyes adjusted. Panic set in quickly as she turned around. Dave was standing five feet away, wearing a blue velvet robe and holding a black gun at head level. She dropped the stone, hearing the shatter of the mirror below the stand, hoping the gem hadn’t broken.

His gaze flickered momentarily to the case, then back at her. His hand was shaking, and for some insane reason, she thought he looked terribly incongruent holding a gun. It didn’t fit him. Now didn’t seem the time to mention it to him.

The only words that found their way out of her frozen lips were, “Don’t shoot, please!”

His eyebrow raised as his eyes narrowed at her. But she didn’t linger there as she slowly removed her hand from the case and backed toward the wall a foot behind her, hands raised as she’d seen on cop shows. His finger flexed as he moved closer, matching her step for step, an investigative expression on his face.

“Hallie?” Incredulity dripped from his words.

Only then did she realize what she must look like, covered in black, wearing her ski cap and shiny dress gloves. She bowed her head, hoping for that hole to open beneath her and take her away to a better hell.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

He still held the gun as he inched forward. “Why are you trying to steal the Manderlay? You know it’s already been stolen.”

She felt a laugh roil her insides but held it at bay knowing it would come out sounding close to hysterical. “I wasn’t trying to steal it; I’m replacing it.”

It took a second for realization to dawn on Dave’s confused features. He tossed the gun aside, and she cringed.

He waved away her obvious concern that it would discharge. “It’s a water gun.”

She pulled the Manderlay, still in one piece, from the case and handed it to him. He cradled it in his palm, as if making sure it was really there. Then he looked up at her.

“You? You were the one who stole it?”

“Well, as near as I can figure. If I was the kind of person before who could steal someone’s gem, I’m the kind of person now who has to return it. But I didn’t want you to know it was me.” She glanced down at herself. “I did think of other ways, such as mailing it to you, or leaving it on your doorstep. This wasn’t the easiest, but it seemed the most effective. At the time.”

“How did you get—you saw the combination, didn’t you?”

“Both times, probably. You’re too trusting, Dave.”

His lips twisted into something like a smile. “Yeah, I know. But I never figured…” He looked at her getup again. “Does Jamie know anything about this?”

“No! He had nothing to do with it. I think the man I was… involved with took a liking to your gemstone and pressured me into stealing it. He’s been asking me where I hid it since I got out of the hospital. Last night I found it.”

“Who is this guy?” At her cautious expression, he added, “Do I know him?”

“I doubt it. His name is Mick. Mick Gentry.”

Dave thought about it for a moment. “No, I don’t know him. That’s a relief, anyway. Knowing one of the thieves is bad enough.”

Hallie slipped the cap off, letting her hair tumble free from the furnace of wool. She took off the gloves and tucked them in her pocket. Sweat popped out all over, and she wondered if she could possibly be dreaming this absurd situation.

Dave tucked the alexandrite in his robe pocket, obviously now intent to deal with the thief. “I think I’d better call—”

“No, please don’t call the cops. I know I was a bad person before, but even you admitted that I’ve changed. Don’t make me pay for a crime I didn’t c—I don’t remember committing. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have pulled anything like this if Mick hadn’t been forcing me to.”

“I was going to say, maybe I should call Jamie.”

“Oh, God, that’s even worse. Well, not quite as bad, but close enough. Isn’t there some way we could work this out? I could…” She looked around, desperate for an idea before he moved toward the phone. “Clean your house! Yes, I could be your indentured slave for, oh, I don’t know, some period of time. You did say your cleaning lady quit, didn’t you? There you go. You keep quiet, and I’ll keep your house clean.”

He was looking at her as though she were crazy.

“Let me get this straight. You want to bribe me into keeping quiet that you committed a major crime by
cleaning my house
?”

She gave him a weak smile. “I can even do windows.”

He laughed, a good sign. “You
are
crazy, you know that? Taking a risk by breaking back into my house to return the gem you’d stolen earlier, now that takes insanity. And then bribing me with housework.” His laughter turned into guffaws, and she wondered who was really crazy. “I have to admit, I have no idea what to do about you.”

“Dave, what I told you at lunch was the truth. I want to make a new start of it, put my past behind me. I’m asking you for a second chance.” A third chance, really.

“What about this guy who wants my Manderlay?”

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle him.”

“I could tell the police he did it.”

“No! He’d be sure to mention my involvement. I might still get arrested.”

His eyes narrowed in thought. “I could tell the police that someone called and set up a rendezvous. I gave the thief a million dollars and got my gem back.”

“No, then Mick will think I double-crossed him. This guy is a real wacko.”

He looked at her. “You know, you could have taken this and sold it anyway.”

“No, I couldn’t have. It wasn’t mine and I had no right to keep it. I’m just sorry it happened to begin with.” She looked at him hopefully. “So, when do I start work?”

His eyes widened. “You think I’m going to trust you in my house?”

“I brought the Manderlay back, didn’t I?”

He shook his head. “How would you explain to Jamie that you’re cleaning my house? It’s nearly a full time job.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly planning on getting caught. But I’ll think of something.”

“Forget it. Besides, I’ve already hired someone.”

She bit her lower lip. “Does that mean you’re going to—”

He pulled the gem out of his pocket. “Get out of here, little thief, before I stick Inspector Clouseau on you.”

She took a step toward the door and smiled, relief flooding her. “I hope you and the Manderlay will be very happy together.”

When she walked out into the early morning air, her heart was racing at the speed of light. Still, she felt a thousand pounds lighter. Now she was ready for her next mission, her real one—: “Buns” DiBarto. As long as Dave didn’t change his mind.

CHAPTER 8

When Hallie returned home from an afternoon of driving around, the house was dark and quiet. The aroma of food lingered, and she followed her hungry nose to its source. Jamie was sitting in the great room, his legs stretched out on an ottoman, a plate of fried chicken on his lap. He looked up as soon as he saw her walk in.

“Hi,” he said, only the faintest trace of friendliness in his blue eyes. “You look nice. Going out?”

She walked into the room, her feet sinking into the plush, brown carpet. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“Maybe.” He let the word sink in for a moment before adding, “No, you look nice, that’s all. I just figured you were going out.”

She sat down in the easy chair at a right angle from his. “Well, thanks for the compliment. I think. And no, I’m not going out. No formal dinner tonight?”

“No, Mom’s at some charity thing tonight.” He held his plate out to her. “The fare tonight is chicken from around the corner. Want some?”

“Sure.” She plucked a piece from the plate and started munching, fully aware that he’d thought she would shun his offer and leave. She had no intention of doing that.

“Dave called this morning.”

Her heart stopped. She looked at Jamie’s expression, searching for suspicion, anger. He appeared calm.