Standing taller, Zella nodded and stepped to the back door.
“Wait,” I said, reaching for a pistol I kept on top of the refrigerator and placed the barrel into the back waistband of my pants. “Ain’t takin’ no chances. Now, go ahead. Answer the door.”
Unlocking the bolt and then the chain, Zella opened the door inward. From around her head and shoulder, I saw our visitor wasn’t a kid but a woman dressed all in black. She wasn’t much, short and puny with yellow hair pulled back too tight and red lipstick. She was wearing large dark sunglasses.
“What are you doing in our backyard?” Zella asked.
“Miss Maples?”
“Mrs. Keller.”
“You’re married?” the woman asked.
“Was. He died.”
That wasn’t true, but it was her standard answer.
“It happens,” the woman replied with no sympathy. Her head moved slightly side to side, appearing to be looking behind Zella. Truthfully, with the dark glasses it was difficult to tell. “This house still belongs to Gordon Maples.”
“Yeah, my dad...What do you want?”
“I’m looking for information.”
As I came up behind Zella, I scanned the woman up and down. The black sweater she wore fit tightly around small tits and she had a tiny waist. Not skinny like Nancy. This woman was well proportioned with curves, just small. She couldn’t have been one hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. Her pants were pleated at the waist and hung to the exact top of her black shoes or boots with pointed toes. It was like they were made just for her—expensive.
“What kind of information?” I asked.
“The kind I’m willing to pay a lot of money for.”
I noticed her neck seemed odd on one side, wrinkly.
“But if you’re not interested...”
I reached for the door and opened it wider. “Show me the money, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
The woman removed her sunglasses. The side of her face matched her neck, weird and wrinkly. It was like she was half old and half young. The young side wasn’t too bad to look at. I started to wonder about her pussy—was it half and half too—when she spoke.
“Mr. Maples, if you have the information I need, I will pay generously. I suggest you refrain from trying any bullshit on me. I know what I want, and I will get it. It’s best to remember that I’m not a patient person.”
There was something about her I couldn’t identify. Even though she was small and disfigured, she had a haughty air, like she might have money. “How much money are we talking?”
“That depends on what you can provide.” She peered around us. “Is there anyone else home?”
“No,” I answered.
The woman nodded. As she did, a dark-haired man stepped from our garage. He was tall and big, as if he was a body builder, but his clothes were wrong for the neighborhood. They looked like he belonged at one of the fancy clubs downtown. Instead of wearing working men’s clothes, he wore a cream-colored sweater, black jeans, and shiny black boots.
Zella and I both took a step back. “Wait,” I said. “How did he get in—?”
The woman raised a gloved hand to silence me. Her speaking returned my attention to her face. “This is my associate. You will let us in and we’ll talk.”
“And if we don’t?”
The man lifted a revolver as the woman put out her hand. “Give me your gun, Mr. Maples.”
“I ain’t got—”
The man moved his finger to the trigger.
My gaze met Zella’s, mine silently admitting our disadvantage. Exhaling, I reached for my pistol and placed it in the woman’s small gloved hand.
Once she had it secure, she replied, “To your question, Mr. Maples. If you don’t let us in, you will both die—today.” She shrugged. “If you do let us in, you could have a nice payday.” She grinned, reminding me of the joker in DC comics. The skin on the wrinkled side pulled tight. “I’m all about choice,” she went on. “What will you decide, Mr. Maples? I’ll give you until five.”
The tall man spoke, “Four, three, two—”
I opened the door wider. “Come in.”
As they stepped into the kitchen, their eyes feverishly scanned the counters of trash and dirty dishes. The woman’s nose twitched.
“I-I was about to clean,” Zella said.
The woman lifted her non-gloved hand to her nose. “You may be used to this stench, but I won’t spend another moment in this filth.” She turned to the tall man. “Get the car. We’re all going for a ride.”
This was kidnapping 101. All the daytime talk shows said to