Chapter Twenty-Four SCARLETT

Chapter Twenty-Four

S CARLETT

Tuesday, July 16, 2024

12:30 p.m.

I was finishing up the third color in my current piece. Blue, green, and now black. Not an ink black, but a brownish, darkish tint that reminded me of the color of aging blood.

I’d traded texts with Luke, but no new date on the calendar. That suited me. I liked the time to process my reactions to him.

As I wiped my hands, I walked to the window and tipped my face toward the sun. When I opened my eyes, I noticed someone sitting in the entryway of the apartment building across the street. Her eyes were closed, and she leaned against the wall, a curtain of red hair covering her face. She looked thin and strung out. Was that Tiffany?

I stepped outside, locking the door behind me. I approached her slowly, knowing anyone coming off drugs could be easily startled. “Tiffany?”

At first, she didn’t move. Her body was still, but when she looked up at me, I recognized her very pale face.

“Tiffany.”

The woman’s eyes blinked, and her stare was blank and lost before it slowly focused. “Scarlett.”

I nodded and knelt in front of her. “It’s been a few weeks.”

“Has it? That’s right. You were at Jeremy’s.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

I smiled. “Why?”

“I wanted to warn you,” she whispered.

“About what?”

“I need to warn you about Tanner.”

“Tanner.” Hearing his name was jarring. And she knew that. “He’s dead, Tiffany.”

“No, he’s not. He’s alive. He’s been texting me. And he’s back for you.”

Her confusion was unnerving. “You’re playing me, Tiffany.”

“I’m not.” She stared directly into my eyes. “I swear.”

The drugs could make someone believe anything. “What do you want?”

“To warn you.”

“Tanner is dead,” I whispered.

She shook her head as tears welled in her gaze. “He’s not.”

I’d dreamed for years that Tanner’s cold hands could reach out from the underworld and grab me. How many times had I woken up screaming and brushing away imaginary fingers? “Tiffany, what have you been taking?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. I need money. I need to get out of town.”

“I’m not giving you money. Let me help you.” I moved closer and carefully laid my hand on her arm. She tensed. “Let me help you stand.”

“I can stand by myself.” She tried to rise but lost her balance and tipped back. A second attempt brought her to her knees, and then she staggered to her feet. She leaned against the wall. “I need money.”

“Why didn’t you text me back?” I asked.

“I lost track of time.”

She didn’t lose track of time when she wanted money from me. I’d stopped giving her cash, but maybe this was a new ploy to stoke fears and guilt. She must have sensed I’d never absolved myself of my sins against her.

Tiffany stumbled. I took her elbow and steadied her. I owed her something, but what, I wasn’t sure.

She pulled free. “How do I know you’re not trying to hurt me?”

“You don’t.”

She blinked and rubbed her red nose with her fingers. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Why did you?” I’d spent the last decade wallowing in Tanner’s wreckage. I’d climbed free of most of the debris, but Tiffany hadn’t. “I want to help you.”

“Why?”

“I owe you.”

She sniffed. “Then give me money.”

“I told you months ago, no more money.”

Tiffany scowled. “I’ll buy food.”

“No, you won’t. If you need a meal, knock on my door. I’ll feed you.”

“I need cash. Not a stupid sandwich.”

“I’m not giving you money.”

“Bitch.”

I raised my hands in surrender. “I’m not giving you money.”

Slowly, I turned and walked across the street. As I opened my front door, I half expected to see Tiffany following me. But when I looked back, I saw someone pause in front of Tiffany. The woman was nicely dressed, blond hair, large sunglasses. She handed Tiffany money, which she quickly pocketed. Enough for her next hit. Damn.

Gold bracelets winked from the woman’s wrists as she started walking. Recognition flickered. Was she the woman from the gym and the one who’d passed by the restaurant the other night? My latest Della doppelg?nger?

I trotted across the street, dodging a delivery truck, and rounded the corner. The woman was pressing a car remote, and the lights of a dark sedan blinked. I hurried toward her. “Excuse me! Ma’am!”

I wanted her to pause, glance in my direction, and give me a good look at her face.

The woman hesitated, her hand on the driver’s-side door. When she turned, she was smiling, but large, dark sunglasses shaded most of her face. “Yes?”

I desperately searched her features for any signs of Della. The angle of the chin and the cheekbones were similar, but this woman was at least thirty pounds lighter than Della. The glasses and blond hair made it difficult to superimpose the two faces.

“I’m Scarlett. I live around the corner in the warehouse.”

The woman smiled. “I’m Margo. I just moved into the Belmont building.”

“Across the street from me.” The lights I’d seen on yesterday. “Did you take the top unit?”

“I did.”

“Your apartment has a view of my place.”

“I guess that makes us roommates,” she said, grinning. “We should get a drink sometime. Be nice to get to know my neighbors.”

“That would be great.”

Margo handed me her phone. “Text yourself from my number.”

Heart striking my breastbone, I typed. “There you go.”

As I handed Margo’s phone back to her, my phone pinged with a text. “Now you have my number.”

“Terrific.” My brain continued to process details, but I couldn’t assemble all the puzzle pieces into Della. “That girl you gave money to.”

“The homeless girl.”

“She shows up when she’s out of money and needs a hit. I give her food but never money anymore.”

The woman stilled and grimaced. “And I just gave her money.”

“It’s a natural reaction. But she’s not going to use it well.”

“She’ll spend it on drugs.” She shook her head. “Clearly, I’m tired. I should know better.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.”

“I’ll remember, no more money for the redhead.”

“Thanks.”

“Let’s grab a drink tonight? You can give me the rundown on the area.”

I hesitated, remembering most offerings of a drink or lunch never happened. “Sure.”

“Text me a place. About seven?”

“Perfect.”

“Nice to meet you, Scarlett.”

“You too, Della.”

Her smile froze. “My name is Margo.”

“Sorry. That’s right. You remind me of someone I knew once.”

“Hopefully she was a fantastic person.”

My stomach tightened. “She was. Is.”

Even white teeth flashed. “See you soon, Scarlett.”

She vanished into the sedan, and I watched as she drove east.

Margo.

Not Della.

Margo.

Not Della.

I hadn’t screamed. Reached for my phone and called 9-1-1. Sure, I’d called her Della, but on Scarlett’s Unbalanced Scale, it registered low.

I hurried toward the Belmont and pressed the intercom button.

“Yes?” The static male voice sounded annoyed. It had to be Dave.

“I just met Margo, and I’ve already forgotten her last name.”

“I can’t give out resident information.”

“Come on, Dave. It’s Scarlett from across the street.”

“You need to stop feeding Tiffany. She’s ruining the look of the building.”

“I know. I’m trying to help her out. Margo just gave her cash. I thought that was so sweet.” I hoped my emphasis on sweet didn’t sound too fake.

“You do-gooders are going to be the death of me.”

The groaning complaint had an endearing quality. He complained about Tiffany, but he’d never chased her off. “Dave. What’s Margo’s last name?”

“Larsen. Margo Larsen.”

“She’s in the unit that overlooks my place, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When did she move in?”

“Signed the lease two days ago. She’s got a move-in scheduled for next Friday. And for the record, she’s a cop.”

“A cop?” That was very unexpected.

“A detective or investigator.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

I walked back toward my place and punched the code into the lock. Inside, I secured the doors and at the window stared up at the Belmont’s top unit.

Super weird that my latest Della double lived across the street and had a bird’s-eye view into my place. She’d called us roommates, like Della and I had been in that basement.

But Margo was a cop, which didn’t jibe with any scenario I’d ever written for Della.

Still, it felt a little like we were cellmates again.