Rose rang the bell and knocked on the door incessantly at quarter to seven in the morning while Vivian and Christine were asleep.
“Come on,” Rose said. “I do not have all day!”
Christine stirred in her sleep.
“Who is that?” Vivian asked as she came into the front room from her bedroom. She cinched the waistband of her pink robe tighter.
“Oh, man,” Christine said. She woke up as the crude knocking continued. “All right, all right, all right! Enough already!” She yanked the covers aside, jumped up from the loveseat, and stomped her way to the front door.
“Just stay out of it, Christine,” Vivian said.
“Nobody, but nobody disturbs my slumber!” Christine said through clenched teeth, her face flushed. “I’m not a morning person!”
“I’ll handle it,” Vivian said.
Vivian opened the door and before she had a chance to say anything, Rose said, “All right, where are they? Cough it up right now!”
“Now, how the hell did you find out where we are?” Vivian said. “What is it that you want this time?”
“Yeah, just what the frig do you want, bleedin’ bitch?” Christine said.
“Woman, I’m gonna beat the livin’ crap outta ya!”
“If you do not give them to me,” Rose said as she gave Christine a sidelong glance, “I am going to call the police.”
“Whuckever!” Christine said as she held up both hands, thumbs touching and middle fingers extended to form the letter “W.”
“Just who do you think you are?” Vivian said to Rose.
“A freakin’ Loser is what she is,” Christine said as she formed the letter “L” with her extended thumb and middle finger on her forehead.
“If I’d known better,” Vivian said with a dry chuckle as she turned to Christine, “I think she came to have us evicted from this place.”
“Haw haw,” Christine said as she rolled her eyes.
“Very funny,” Rose said.
“All right,” Vivian said with a resigned sigh. “What is it you want this time? Whatever it is, I simply can’t imagine what it could be.”
“Whatever it is, don’t give it to her!” Christine said.
“You know very well what it is I want,” Rose said.
“Duuuhhh!” Christine said. She put a hooked finger in her mouth which hanged at the corner of her lips. “Gee, I wonder,” she said, then made a slack-jawed, open-mouthed, cross-eyed face with her tongue distended from her mouth.
“You think you are funny,” Rose said, “but you are not. Laugh now, cry later.”
“Haw haw, wah wah.”
“I was up until the middle of the night inventorying my things of which you trespassed upon with those vile hands of yours. I also know you read my diaries which are evidenced by the straps that have been cut. Therefore, I know what was taken and how much was taken.”
“We wouldn’t dare take anything of yours since they’re just as worthless as you are.”
“I think I know what you’re talking about,” Vivian said to Rose as she eyed Christine. “All right. Fess up, Christine. Where are they?”
“What?” Christine said. “What’cha tawkin’ about, Viv?”
Vivian grabbed Christine’s wrist and nearly twisted it.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!”
“I’ve had more than I can take from you, young lady,” Vivian said. “Now, where are they?”
“I didn’t take anything!”
“She wouldn’t be here if you didn’t take something. Now, fetch it or else.”
“I’m not a friggin’ dog, man!” Christine said as she forcibly wrenched her wrist from Vivian’s tight grip.
“I know you read my diaries,” Rose said.
“That’s right,” Vivian said.
“Yeah? So?” Christine said.
“That is an outright, blatant invasion of my privacy,” Rose said.
“What’cha gonna do about it, murderer?” Christine said.
“I could call the police,” Rose said.
“You didn’t take those diaries, did you, Christine?” Vivian asked. “Did you?”
“Of course not!” Christine said.
“You better not have,” Vivian said. “Just give back what you took from her.”
“All right, all right, all right! I’ll get it!”
Christine whirled on her heel and stomped through the front room to one corner where her suitcases lay.
“You just wait outside,” Christine heard Vivian tell Rose. “You’re not welcome to come in here.”
Vivian went to the corner of the front room and observed Christine pick up one suitcase by the handle and heft it with the support of her other hand. She deliberately left the other suitcase that contained more of Rose’s valuables.
“Happy now?” Christine said to Vivian. “After you, master. I’ll just be right behind you like a good little doggie.”
“Oh, no,” Vivian said. “After you, miss.”
“Miscreant,” Christine said as she walked past Vivian and rudely nudged her aside with her elbow.
“Watch it,” Vivian said.
Christine deliberately slowed her pace and pretended to drop the suitcase. “Whoops!” With stealth, she surreptitiously unlatched one lock. “Never mind, I got it.” She lifted the suitcase and slowly made her way through the front room. She feigned another drop of the suitcase and unlatched the other lock. “Boy, this thing is heavy. Whew!” She strode through the front room.
“You want it back?” Christine asked Rose at the door. “Here. Have at it!” She hefted the suitcase high above her and hurled it over Rose’s head.
“Christine!” Vivian said with a gasp.
Rose paled and looked as if her stomach had dropped.
Christine gloated with glee and her eyes twinkled.
As the suitcase soared through the air, its mid-section opened wide and spread like wings. Contents fell out like candy from a piñata and scattered on the ground. Rose gasped in horror. Peter and Dolph skittered away as the suitcase plummeted toward them and slammed into the side of the limo.
“Oh, boy,” Vivian said. “Now you’ve done it.”
Rose bent over to pick up her jewels, gems, some bundles of money and gold bars.
“Pick ’em up!” Vivian said to Christine.
“Better yet—” Christine said. She rammed her foot in Rose’s derriere with excessive force that the woman fell forward, though she caught herself and scraped her palms in the process. Her turban flew off and landed a few feet away. The pin popped loose and landed on the ground.
Surprised by the utterly ridiculous sight before her, Christine giggled. Her giggles grew into gales of whooping laughter as she bent over in fits of hysterics.
Scraggly white-blond wisps of hair protruded from Rose’s nearly-bald scalp.
“All right, Christine!” Vivian said. “That does it. You’re outta here as of this instant. Get your things and get out now. I’ve had it. I’ve had it with you!”
“You don’t scare me, you idiot,” Christine said. She turned around and said to Rose, “The next time I see you again, I swear I’m gonna burn you alive!”
Christine smashed her foot on Rose’s hand. Rose howled in pain. Peter and Dolph ran toward Christine. Dolph placed a hand on Christine’s shoulder and Vivian hissed her stern warning, “Don’t you dare touch her. I’ll deal with her myself.”
Christine vigorously elbowed Dolph in the solar plexus, which knocked the air out of him and caused him to double over.
Rose picked up her turban and pin and placed them back on her head. She struggled to get to her feet. Dolph and Peter pulled Rose to her feet, then they walked her to the limo. Peter opened the rear passenger door and Dolph assisted Rose as she gingerly eased herself into the back seat. Dolph and Peter went back to pick up the rest of her belongings.
“C’mere, Christine,” Vivian said as she grabbed Christine’s wrist and dragged her into the house while Christine laughed. Vivian’s angry voice quavered and her chest heaved. “I know you’re angry and I know you’re hurting. How do you think I feel?”
Christine shrugged insolently.
“So be it,” Vivian said. “I’ve tried to be a good sister to you. I’ve tried to be patient as well as sympathetic and understanding. I’ve been more than fair and generous with you, and what thanks do I get in return? Well, listen, sister, and listen good. I suggest you straighten up that despicable attitude of yours or seek professional help, like anger management counseling. You’ve got a very serious problem and it’s not funny. You’ve gone way too far and your irreverence is not tolerated.”
“Must you tell me?”
“Christine, I’m trying to let you know that I care about you. I really do. I love you. Apparently, that’s not good enough. It doesn’t seem to be doing any of us good. That’s your fault. Now, you’re going to get your things and leave. I hate to do this, but it has to be done. Don’t ask me where you’re going to go because you’re on your own. All I ask is that when you find a place for yourself, just let me know where you are.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I would appreciate it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to spy on you. You’re a big girl now. You can take care of yourself.”
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
“I just hope she doesn’t sue us for aggravated assault as well as for invasion of privacy,” Vivian said more to herself than to Christine.
“Give me an hour,” Christine said. “I need to freshen up a little before I get my things, then I’m outta here.”
While Christine took a shower, Vivian went to the limo and crouched to eye level with Rose.
“Tell me one thing,” Vivian said.
Rose eyed Vivian, cold and silent.
“I want to know how you survived the plane crash in London,” Vivian said. “That’s all I want to know, nothing else. I have some idea as to why you led us to believe you were dead all these years. Just how did you manage to survive, if in fact, you were on that plane?”
“It was a miracle,” Rose said.
“You were identified among the dead.”
“That is right. You see, it is simple . . .”
Rose had come up with a phony alibi: herself. She had flown to London alone and from there, intended to fly to New York. She had informed the others who had known her that she would be going with a business associate.
When one of the plane’s landing gears had become inoperable during takeoff, it jammed while being elevated into its compartment, and the plane had been forced to land. It skidded off the runway and slammed into a large shed nearby. The plane exploded and bodies were tossed about, some of which had been burned beyond recognition and others with body parts severed.
Rose had been fortunate enough to have had escaped with a few scratches and bruises, as did some of the survivors. It had been nothing the doctors could not take care of.
She had a window seat in first class and memorized the number of an aisle seat next to hers, where the charred body of a dead female passenger had lain. That person’s jaw had been sheared off and disintegrated. The remainder of the skull had been pulverized.
Rose figured it would be difficult for the medical examiner to conduct postmortem identification of said passenger, even with dental records. She assumed they’d come up with a presumptive identification if the pathologist couldn’t get a positive ID. Therefore, she identified the charred body as Rose Hutchins and identified herself as “a business associate of the deceased,” as she had stated to the authorities when asked to identify herself. She had not even bothered to give a name for she thought there had been no reason to. She had figured the airport authorities and police officials would come up with the name of the business associate—Julia S. Windom—which she had registered under at the time she had made the reservations.
“In a nutshell, I switched identities with a dead passenger,” Rose now said with pride. “Not only that, but she was a dead ringer. As you can plainly see, everything fell into place and there you have it.”
She gently adjusted her turban.