Killer Calories

whispered.
    With their backs pressed together, Savannah could feel Tammy’s heart pounding and hear her breath coming hard and fast. “ Sh -h-h...” she said. “Just be quiet and try to calm down, before you hyperventilate.”
    A moment later, the toilet flushed and Orlet returned to the main living area. They heard the refrigerator open, some bottles clink, then the door slam closed. The bottle cap rattled when it hit the countertop.
    Savannah didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried when he turned on the television and flipped to a baseball game. With the sound of the TV filling the room, they were less likely to be heard—just in case Tammy started to gasp for air or one of them inhaled a dust ball and sneezed. On the other hand, the sportscaster had just announced that it was only the third inning. So, she was afraid they might have to lie under the daybed until the Yankees won the pennant.
    He walked over to the bed and plopped down on it so hard that a couple of the springs gouged into Savannah ’s hip. She stifled a yell but decided to get even with him as soon as possible. No two-bit pervert, whose idea of a good time was sexually mutilating fashion dolls, poked her and got away with it.
    As two more innings played and Orlet guzzled more beer, Tammy lay so perfectly still that Savannah was afraid maybe she had passed out. Reaching for Tammy’s hand, she found it and gave her what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. The fingers that wrapped around hers were pretty clammy, but at least they squeezed back.
    Savannah was just about to think they would be stuck through extra innings, when Orlet tossed his empty bottle onto the floor a few inches from her nose, walked over to the television, and switched it off.
    She listened closely as he punched in some numbers on the telephone.
    P lease God, let him be making a date. Please, let him leave before our tailbones fuse and we become Siamese twins! Please, let —
    “Yeah, it’s me again,” he said. “So, I gave you time to think about it. What’s it gonna be?”
    He fidgeted a while, listening, then said, “I’m glad you decided to be smart. You’re buying yourself some good insurance.”
    Savannah felt her ears perk up like a cocker spaniel’s. The coarseness of his voice, the nasty smile in his tone sounded as if he was doing business as Orlet , the ex-con, rather than the respected masseur. Somehow, she didn’t believe he was a part-time representative for Mutual of Omaha.
    “No, I haven’t told anybody, and I won’t,” he said, “as long as you show up in... say... ten minutes in the rear parking lot. Yeah, that’s right. Have it in an envelope. All of it.”
    Savannah had to resist doing a jig beneath the bed and giving away their position.
    He was leaving! Better yet, they could leave! In less than ten minutes!
    And, maybe best of all, he was pulling some sort of extortion scam on somebody. She didn’t have to exercise much Pagination to hope it might have something to do with Kat Valentina’s death.
    He paid another visit to the bathroom to get rid of some recycled beer, then... finally... left, locking the door behind him.
    “Did you hear that! ” Tammy whispered as they crawled out from under the bed and flexed their cramped limbs. “Did you? He’s blackmailing somebody!”
    Savannah scrambled up onto the bed and raised the window. “That’s what it sounded like.” She sat on the sill and threw one leg over. “Get a move on, kid. Let’s boogey out to the parking lot and see who it is.”

    “Are you starting to feel like you’ve lived most of your life in bushes?” Savannah asked, as she and Tammy crouched behind some azaleas at the edge of the rear parking lot.
    “It’s better than hiding under a bed with some ex-con swigging beer on top of you.” Tammy sat down on the dew-damp ground, obviously too tired to squat.
    From this dubious vantage point, they had a clear view of the area, which was lit with one halfhearted streetlamp. By its puny light they could see the comings and goings of anyone who decided to conduct a meeting in the middle of the asphalt.
    So far, neither Josef Orlet nor his telephone companion had shown. And the appointed ten minutes had come and gone.
    “Are you sure this is the only rear parking lot on the property?” Savannah asked, afraid they were cooling their heels in the azaleas for nothing.
    “Sure I’m sure. I know my parking lots. This is it.” She hesitated, thinking.