Revenge is Sweet

Chapter Six Vanessa

After that little encounter, I felt tired. In my bones. I needed a drink, and a nap. But first I needed to be paid for what I had accomplished.

Shaken and exhausted I made the decision to head back to the mansion and collect payment for Torralee's death. And to get a drink, kick everyone out of my house and sleep for a week,.

I slipped into the Volvo after parking the truck at my house and slipping through a hidden entrance in the basement. I sped to the mansion, parking in my six-car garage, and headed through the servants entrance to go get changed. Once in my master bedroom I slipped on the floor length gown with flowing sleeved and a refined scoop neckline, gorgeous but reserved. I needed to look the part of a grieving widow, not a waitress, nor a murderer. I donned a thin black half veil attached to a red mini hat, and slipped into blood red heels before sweeping down a main staircase.

The party was in full swing, but the higher upper class guests didn't party the way my other guests did, they sipped polite cocktails and chit chatted over fans. I grabbed a martini off a tray passing by and sought out my latest business partner, and once I found him I waved him over. He owed me something. I sat at a table and waited while he worked his way through the crowd, his eyes never leaving mine. He sat across from me, his mask veiling half his face, anonymity being a big deal to him. I couldn't give a fuck less who he was, as long as he paid me.

"So, it's done?" His voice was gruff, gritty, fake. I rolled my eyes and smirked.

"No, I came back and called you over because she's not dead." The sarcasm dripped off my words like water from an icicle in July. He chuckled, reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a check. I snatched it reading the words.

Derek Smith

Rose lane

Bluffdale USA

Pay to the order of: Veronica Driscoll

Six million and 0/100

For: Contracting job

I let out a low whistle, wondering not for the first time what Torralee had done to this man.

"Pleasure doing business with ya." I said offering my hand for a shake.

He took my extended hand and shook, and then he walked away. I got another martini and chatted with a few more people. No one approached with another business offer, thank god I needed a break. Plus I didn't need any more money for a while. Not that I wouldn't have taken another assignment, but I was relieved regardless. By four everyone had filed, passed out or been kicked out. I was exhausted, so after talking to my head caterer about payment and arrangements for my next party, I headed upstairs and changed into pajamas. I needed a dose of nursery, and I didn't feel like driving home anyways. I padded into Cynthia's room and curled up on the toddler bed holding her favorite teddy bear and cried. I cried until I stopped feeling so sad, and eventually I fell asleep. I didn't work the next day so I could sleep all day to feel better. Not that that would help.

I was up by noon, my dumb housekeeper apparently didn't know I was home. After yelling at her for a few minutes, and then profusely apologizing and offering her a bonus, I left the house. I headed back into town via cab so I didn't have to worry about switching cars. I picked up my truck and decided to head to Hugamug to see if I could pick up an extra shift.

I didn't need the money, but I did need the distraction. I walked in and picked up an apron, not bothering to ask anyone if they needed help, the café was full and there was only two waitresses on the floor, they needed the help. I wondered idly why it was so busy as I began running plates, and taking orders. I overhead one of the tables talking about how no one had seen Janssen all day. Detective Janssen? I wandered closer to ask if they were finding everything satisfactory and maybe see if they had any more information. It turned out they did.

"Did you hear it was body 7? I had no idea it was that high already. And they said there was a message next to the body. Something about greed, I think."

The woman in question was no other than Alexis Jenkins, the town's biggest reporter. I didn't know where she'd gotten her information but it didn't matter, she was right. I leaned down to ask if their meal was going well.

"Everything alright over here ladies?" Alexis was dining with the town's one and only acrylic nail lady, Hannah Jenkins, her wife.

They both nodded, and I couldn't help but ask a follow up question, "So... who was body number 7? I was out of town yesterday, needed some alone time ya know? And I just got back, so I haven't heard yet. Do we know??" Curiosity coated my voice, but all I was curious about was Detective Tamera.

"Oh yeah, I forgot what yesterday was, how ya holding up dear? The victim was found in Torralee Hill's house, but no, they haven't said if it was her or a house guest." Hannah replied in a soft voice, with a hint of southern accent. So they hadn't told the public that Torralee Hill was dead. I wonder why.

I worked for hours, waiting, hoping Tamera would come in. Or that someone would say they'd seen her. Finally around 9:30 we closed up and I got in my truck. But I had no intention of going home. I needed to figure out where in the hell Tamera was. I didn't understand... why hadn't she come in for lunch? She always comes in for lunch. Orange crepes with whipped cream. And a hot cocoa. Ugh I had an issue, I wanted her to be okay, but I was sure that she wasn't. Seven bodies, she had to be beside herself. I was my fault. Maybe I could make it better though.