Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

``Who do you think you are? And you,'' she said to Dar- win. ``If you breathe a word of this catfight, you'll regret it. I'll tell Alan everything that happened here.''

Satisfied with her hair, she gathered up a shopping bag and followed Pinky out of the salon with a hip swivel that would have done spinal damage to a person with less mus- cle tone.

``There,'' I said, handing the Lettitia McGraw back to Darwin. ``You'd better put this bag in a safe place.''

He sniffed. ``I'll take it down to the store safe in the security office.''

``Good idea.''

``What a mess!'' He rubbed his bitten ear as he surveyed the chaos of Popo's carefully arranged merchandise. Hyste- ria threatened again, but Darwin bravely gathered his cour- age. ``I have to get this cleaned up before Popo gets back.''

``Let me help.''

``God, no.'' He shuddered at the thought of spending another instant in my company. ``I'll manage somehow. It's past closing time. All customers should be out of the store by now. Including you.''

``Listen, Darwin, I'd like to talk with you.''

Still standing stiff and wounded behind the desk, he said, ``About what?''

``There's been a misunderstanding, and if I was part of it, I need to make things right.''

``I don't know what you're talking about.''

Spike stopped lapping up the spilled Slim-Fast and began scrambling around underfoot, dragging his hindquarters and panting with excitement. He tracked chocolate paw prints all over Popo's floor.

I picked up Spike and held him away from my clothing. 20 Nancy Martin He dripped with Slim-Fast. ``First let me clean up the dog in the lavatory. Then we'll have a discussion.''

Silently, Darwin pointed.

I ducked into the bathroom at the back of the small salon and plunked Spike in the sink. At once he sensed what was coming and tried to climb out, but I was too quick for him. Pinning the dog in space, I carefully scooped warm water run over his rough coat to avoid soaking his casts.

``You are a menace,'' I told him.

At last I turned off the water and held Spike down with one hand as I stretched to yank a handful of paper towels from the dispenser.

Which was went the lights went out.

``What in the world . . . ?''

Silence. The lavatory had no window, so the darkness was complete. Spike gave a nervous yap.

``Quiet,'' I told him, and blindly tried to dry him off with the towels. Over my shoulder, I called, ``Darwin?''

I heard someone jiggle the locked doorknob.

``Darwin? What's going on?''

No response. I put Spike on the floor and felt my way to the door. I grabbed the knob and twisted to disengage the lock, but when I tried to pull the door inward, it didn't budge. ``Darwin!'' I called. ``I'm locked in here!''

Still no answer. And no lights. Panting and whining with excitement, Spike hobbled around my feet in the small bathroom.

The bathroom lock was on the inside of the door, I rea- soned. So why couldn't I let myself out? It was as if the door had been dead-bolted from the outside.

In total darkness, I rapped my knuckles on the door. Then I pounded. I shouted. I kicked the door as loudly as I could. To accompany me, Spike barked and finally began to howl.

But Darwin didn't come to open the door.

Nobody did.

``That little bastard locked us in here for the night,'' I said to Spike.

The puppy sat down on my foot and whined.

After five minutes of fuming, I finally got an idea. I went to the door and felt around the edges to locate the hinges. ``Aha.'' SLAY BELLES 21

Groping in my handbag for something to use as a tool, I poked myself with a metal nail file. I pulled it out and tested its strength. It was flimsy, but it would have to get the job done. Cautiously, I wedged the nail file up into the hinge and pushed. I felt the bolt give way, but only slightly. Getting the door off the hinges was going to be a tedious process.

When the first hinge was disassembled and the second bolt nearly wiggled out, the lights suddenly came on again. I checked my watch. Nearly forty-five minutes had passed, and I'd broken three fingernails. The palms of my hands were going to be bruised. I ran cold water into the sink to soak them for a minute, then went back to inching the hinge apart.

I let out a cry of relief when the second bolt fell out and hit the tile floor with a musical ding. Wrestling the door out of position was harder than I imagined. It didn't just fall into my arms. I had to shove and wiggle and heave to inch the heavy door out of place.

At last, the weight of it fell sideways. A rush of cool air entered the lavatory. I looked out and realized that some- one had tied one length of a rope around the doorknob and fastened the other end to a sturdy coatrack on the opposite wall.

``Darwin, you little fink!'' I said to the empty salon.

No sign of the weasel.

I gathered up the contents of my bag and shoved it back where it belonged. Then I stepped over the rope and picked up Spike. ``Let's get out of here.''

Just as eager to leave as I was, Spike let himself be dumped into my bag. I pushed out of the salon and into the darkened department store.

It was eerie, deserted and quiet. The usual rumble of escalators, heating system, and muffled music had been si- lenced. I didn't see a single person. Even the reindeer in Santa's Wonderland were still. I headed for the escalator.

At the edge of the luxury bedding department stood the display bed I'd noticed earlier. But something