Killjoy

Chapter 34

Jilly had just had a full body massage and was now wrapped in a four-hundred-count Egyptian cotton sheet with the

logo of Utopia stamped on the hem. She lay on her back, her eyes closed, while the female technician applied an avocado

facial mask. The stupid woman wouldn't stop talking. She gave Jilly one compliment after another about her flawless

complexion and her oh, so perfect body.

Jilly never tired of hearing compliments from men, but she didn't care what women thought about her, and just when she was about to tell the technician to shut up, she finished applying the goo and said, "We'll just let this set for fifteen minutes."

She was finally alone. Loosening the sheet, she let the cool air caress her body. It felt good to relax, especially after she'd

become so distraught over the news that Carrie and the judge had survived the explosion. Fortunately, Monk hadn't been in the bungalow when that horrid news came on the television, so she didn't have to try to behave. He had never seen her throw a full-blown tantrum, and she didn't know how he would react. She certainly didn't want to scare him, not yet anyway, because he was so terribly useful. There was still too much to be done, and it was imperative that Monk stay the loyal lap-dog.

Carrie used to call her fits rages, but Jilly had learned control over the years. Not much, but some, she qualified. Admittedly,

if one of the housekeeping staff had happened to walk into the bungalow just after Jilly had heard the news about Carrie, Jilly probably would have attacked her. And enjoyed every moment of it.

Jilly had never killed a person. She'd let her men take care of her problems. Wasn't that what they were for? She had often wondered, though, what it would feel like to kill someone with a gun or maybe even with her bare hands. If someone caused

her to be unhappy, then watching her die did seem fitting. Why should she deny herself that joy and satisfaction? She realized

now that Monk had been right all along. He had wanted to kill each woman separately and make the deaths look like accidents, but Jilly had pleaded and cajoled until he'd given in and done things her way. How could such a brilliant plan not work? It was so perfect, so simple, so… brilliant.

Carrie. Carrie was the reason the plan hadn't worked. That selfish bitch had ruined everything.

Jilly threw herself on the bed and pounded her fists into the pillows. She stopped suddenly. She heard the newscaster on CNN with the lead-in for the footage that was coming on the screen again. She bolted upright, impatiently wiping the tears from her eyes, and stared at the screen. The film was focusing on the judge, but Jilly wasn't interested in her, no matter how famous she was supposed to be. She waited, whimpering, until finally the camera turned to her bitch of a sister as she was being carried on

a stretcher into the ambulance. Men, paramedics, no doubt, but still men, were actually fawning over her. How dare they give

her any attention? How dare they? Jilly was more enraged by the men's behavior than by the fact that her sister was still very

much alive.

The camera zoomed in on Carrie's face. Jilly thought she saw her smiling, and that proved to be the last straw. Screaming obscenities, she picked up a lamp and hurled it into the wall.

Carrie was ruining everything.

It took an hour for her to calm down. Then she called the spa and had a masseur come to the bungalow. The massage helped,

and she was now able to think about a new plan. This one wouldn't be as complicated, she decided.

Why hadn't she given in to the urge and killed Carrie with her scissors? Because that wouldn't have been as much fun. After everything her sister had done to her, she deserved to suffer a long while before she died. It wasn't fair. Men worrying about

her, taking care of her. Couldn't they see how ugly she was?

Jilly could feel herself getting worked up again. The mask on her face was beginning to itch. Her cell phone rang just as the technician came back into the suite.

"Go away," she said. "I'll wash this off. Shut the door behind you."

Jilly knocked over a stack of towels as she reached for the phone. "Yes?"

"I thought you would want to hear some good news. I found out where Carrie and the judge are."

She immediately perked up. "You know? Where, darling? Was I right?" she asked before he could answer. "Are they going to Sheldon Beach? Is that where they're going to hide Carrie until the trial?"

"Your sister isn't going to Florida because she isn't going to testify at the trial."

Jilly laughed with delight. "She's afraid."

"Yes."

The mask on her face cracked when she smiled. "That's wonderful news. Now tell me everything."

She listened carefully, and when he was finished, she told him not to worry, that she would come up with a new, even better

plan. "But something less complicated this time," she promised. Then in a voice that sounded like a dove cooing, she said,

"I miss you, darling."

"I'll see you soon?"

"Of course."

"I love you."

She smiled again. "Yes. I know."

She disconnected the call, dropped her towel, and went into the bathroom to shower. Wrapping herself in a terry-cloth robe,

he called housekeeping to come and clean up the mess she'd made. The cost of the damage would be put on her credit card.

Two hours later, when Monk walked into the room, she was ready for him. She wore a black chiffon dress and high heels, but

had decided against undergarments. When she stood in the doorway with the light spilling out from the bedroom, she knew he could see through the filmy material. She'd checked to make sure.

Monk was weary by the time he got there, but as soon as he saw the love of his life, he was rejuvenated. He knew the trouble she'd gone to just to please him. She had instinctively known he would need to make love to her and had prepared the bedroom. There were candles burning to set the mood, and she was wearing his favorite dress. It was identical to the red one she used to have, until he'd torn it. As he strode toward her, he told himself not to ruin this one.

He watched her mouth. She was slowly rubbing her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. She knew he liked that too.

Their lovemaking was wild and crude. Like animals in heat, they tore at each other. Her dress fell to the floor in tatters.

And when he was finally satisfied, he rolled off her, threw his arm back, and closed his eyes.

She had pleased him, and now it was his turn to please her. "I think we should wait a couple of days," Jilly said, "and then, after you're rested, you can take care of Carrie and the judge. They'll be all settled in and feeling safe by then. Don't you agree? It shouldn't be too difficult for you to get in and do what needs to be done."

"I need at least two weeks to organize and plan."

"Did I just make you happy, Monk?"

"You know you did, darling."

"Then make me happy. I could wait maybe a week, but I'd go crazy if I had to wait any longer. Carrie was smiling when they lifted her into the ambulance. I didn't like seeing her smile."

"I understand."

"She told the police about me. Now they know I'm alive, and they'll be looking for me. You were right," she whispered.

"I shouldn't have insisted on the letters, and I shouldn't have let her see me. But I thought she would die in the explosion, and

I wanted her to know…"

"Don't cry, Jilly," he said as he took her in his arms. "It's going to be all right."

"Yes," she said, cuddling up against him. "As soon as she's dead, everything will be all right. She's made me so unhappy for such

a long time. Promise me you'll kill her soon."

"I promise," he answered. "You know I'll do anything for you."

She smiled against his neck. Her hands moved skillfully over his body. "Then we'll go to Sheldon Beach."

Monk's desperation to please her was making him frantic, but at the same time he felt he could do anything and succeed

because of her faith in him. She often told him how brilliant she thought he was and how he underestimated and undervalued himself. He realized now that she was right. He could pull it off. He could get in and out without being noticed, no matter how many FBI agents were there. He could even become invisible.