Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

The canvas bags were hard to hold onto and she had to stop twice to rest her arms and renew her grip. When she saw the house all she could do was to shake her head. If the inside was as bad as the outside, she would have a lot of hard work ahead of her. She dropped her belongings on the small porch and fumbled in her purse for the key.

She opened the door with some difficulty, picked up the bags and stepped inside, immediately noticing the unpleasant odors. One at a time she heaved the bags onto the only table then began to walk around the house, making mental note of what to do and how to start. An old broom and mop had been left in the shower stall and would have to do. She had expected having to clean the floors on her hands and knees. First, she swept the trash from all the rooms into one corner near the entrance. She had noticed a cracked plastic waste bin at the side of the house and went out to drag it inside. With the floor cleared she looked around and let out a long sigh. She then began to clean, one room at a time, the odor of bleach becoming almost overwhelming.

By seven o’clock the house was passably clean, and the terrible odors were gone. As Annunciata prepared to leave, the thought crossed her mind that when she cleaned the floors she had neglected to clean inside the closet. Pride in her work would not allow her to leave without completing the task. She retrieved the broom and mop she had returned to the shower stall and approached the closet. Inside she saw a large duffle bag that she would have to remove in order to clean the floor. She tried to lift it, but it was too heavy for her so she merely pulled and pulled until it was clear of the area to be cleaned. She swept the debris from the floor and with the still wet mop she wiped it down, all the while finding her eyes going back to the duffle. It seemed that hard objects were protruding against the canvas. The woman’s curiosity grew until she found herself slowly sliding the zipper open. She peered inside then began to rummage around in the contents. The first thing she pulled out was a pair of handcuffs, followed by two rolls of silver tape, another pair of handcuffs and long pieces of chain.

Her heart began to race with the thought of being discovered looking through the man’s things. She quickly replaced everything, zipped the duffle and shoved it back in the closet. Using the doorknob to steady her, she pulled herself upright, closed the door and gathered her belongings. A quick departure was all that mattered now. Annunciata put her bags down on the porch, locked the door, and then placed the key on the ground right next to the cement step as instructed. Once she had covered it with a small rock, she made a hasty retreat toward the nearest bus stop.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Valerie awakened just seconds before her alarm sounded. A rush of excitement ran through her as she bolted from bed and headed to the bathroom. The morning’s concern was not about primping. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, applied moisturizer and mascara, then decided the minimum would have to do. Just to be safe she dialed Olivia’s cell phone, which she knew would be on her night table, the same place she always kept hers. Olivia answered on the fourth ring, sounding half asleep.

“Rise and shine, girlie. It’s coming on eight o’clock! We have places to go and things to see!”

“I had my alarm set. It would have gone off in ten minutes. I needed those ten minutes. I had a later night than I’d planned.”

“I’m assuming it wasn’t an all-nighter, because you sound like you’re alone. You can doze on the plane. Go throw some cold water on your face and get yourself organized. The taxi will be here in fifteen minutes and we’ll get you within half an hour or so, depending on traffic.”

“My late night wasn’t for fun. I was finishing up some things from work on my computer so Mr. Saunders won’t get into a snit while I’m gone.”

Assured that Olivia had not had a bawdy night, Valerie told her to be ready and watching through the window for the taxi to arrive. Olivia intended to travel light, never an easy thing to do, and was sure she could easily manage her suitcase and bag. She did as she was told with regard to her ablutions and then reached for the clothes she had left out the night before. She slid into a pair of leggings, a long sleeve tee, and the requisite black leather jacket. Hopping around the bedroom, she pulled on a pair of socks and ankle boots, threw her toiletries into the suitcase and zipped it closed.

She had just placed everything by the door when a taxi horn blared through her open window. She had almost forgotten to close and lock the window, so with that done, she quickly collected everything, locked her apartment and called the lift. Once she appeared on the street the driver got out to help with her belongings. Soon the women were being whisked toward Heathrow, each imagining the possibilities of such an impulsive adventure.

The flight left about thirty minutes late, most of which was spent idling on the tarmac. The pilot, however, had announced that favorable winds would bring them into Madrid only a few minutes later than estimated. Valerie and Olivia were some of the last to board, and therefore, among the first to disembark, easily reaching the gate to the connecting flight in time for its punctual departure. The view from the plane was clouded by smog until it had progressed well beyond Madrid. The smaller commuter plane flew at