"Any time."

As soon as she got off the phone, she went to look in the freezer, just to be sure there had been nothing incriminating out in plain view. She raised the lid and looked in. There was the black garbage bag of veggies she had thrown in the night before, right before she left for Georgia. She thought to finish loading it up with bagged veggies, then pull it out and sit it on the floor while she cleaned the freezer. She picked up a bag of English peas and opened the top of the garbage bag, and her heart jumped up into her throat! Staring right back at her, through frosted, unseeing eyes, was the head of Judge Leon Rosewood!

She cried out, she couldn't help it. But then immediately covered her mouth and looked around, to see if anyone had heard her. If so, they didn't acknowledge it. Thinking that her eyes were playing tricks on her, she tried to muster up the courage to look again, because she was sure she had buried that infernal head under the gravel, which was now beneath her pool.

They're messing with me, she thought. Someone saw me bury the body, and is playing a cruel joke on me! They took out the bag with the head in it, and put it back in the freezer! I couldn't have been so stupid as to put the WRONG bag in the hole! The other bag had nothing but veggies in it. She knew a sure way to find out if it was her mistake, or someone's cruel joke. She knew that there were only two garbage bags left on the porch when Fay called her. One she took to the hole, and the other she had thrown back into the freezer. If someone was messing with her, there would be two bags in the freezer, instead of one.

She reluctantly forced herself to open the freezer door, and saw that face again, and she quickly closed the top of the bag, so she wouldn't have to look at it. She gathered the top of the bag and picked it up enough to see that there was not another garbage bag under the one with the head. Nope. This one was the only one. The only conclusion she could draw, was that it was her mistake. No one was messing with her. It was no cruel joke being played on her. That within itself was a relief, because it meant that no one had seen this head. Her secret was still safe.

So how did such a mistake happen? She had been so sure of what she had done, up to a point. What point? Up till the point that Fay called with the upsetting news that they had been in a car wreck! After talking to Fay, she had come out, grabbed a bag, and took it to the hole. Did she even look inside the bag to see if it was the right bag?

No she didn't.

Did she even look into the bag left on the porch, to see if it was just veggies, before throwing it back into the freezer?

No she didn't. In fact, she remembered thinking to herself at the time, that bag was a little heavy for veggies! But did she take the time to look and see what was really in the bag?

No, she didn't! She was in a hurry to get to Marietta, Georgia, to see about her girls! No one was messing with her. She just got in a hurry, and made a stupid mistake! She slammed the freezer door shut, and put her head down on it. How could I be so stupid? She banged her head on the thin metal lid. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why didn't I check to be sure all the body parts were in the hole? Stupid! Stupid! I let that phone call from Fay get me upset, and I made a major mistake! Stupid! Stupid! Now what am I going to do? I'll have to dispose of the head in a different place! She wished Travis was there to give her a little advice. But wasn't that just like him, to never be around when she really needed him! He's gone cavorting off to England, to promote his silly book, while I'm left with a real crisis here! She took a deep breath and walked out on her deck.

No, she couldn't blame this on him. It was all her fault. It was her fault for getting involved with a married man, again! And this time, with a Federal Judge, no less! It was her fault for giving the old man a v.i.a.g.r.a, after he had had too much to drink. It was her fault for letting him hand-cuff her to the headboard. It was her fault for involving Travis. It was her fault for not calling the police right from the start, and taking the responsibility, and embarra.s.sment for the situation. It would have been hushed up, because Leon Rosewood was a well respected Pillar of the Community, and a powerful judge, and he had a lot of powerful friends in various places. Those powerful people would make sure that a revelation this embarra.s.sing would never make the news. It would have been reported that he died of a heart attack in his home, and that would be that! There would be no mention of her, or any of the details. Even the Judge's wife would probably never know the whole truth. True, Miranda's ex-husband would probably hear about it, but would he jeopardize his career as a deputy by leaking this sordid affair to the media? Not on his life! He knew what side his bread was b.u.t.tered on! The only reason she didn't do as Travis suggested, and just call the police, was because she wanted to protect her petty little reputation, as though she were some big celebrity or something! Who in the world even cared about who she was, or who she was sleeping with? Yes, she would be embarra.s.sed, but then it would have been over, because all those people in high places would want to sweep it under the rug as discretely as possible.

But now, because of her stupidity the whole complexion of things had changed, just like Travis had tried to tell her it would. With the Judge missing, it would become a whole different story. She could see it all taking place. There will be a nationwide search for the Judge, and it will, of course, be sensationalized by the media. There will be wild speculation that perhaps he was kidnapped, or that he was murdered as payback for one of his rulings in the past. The FBI will be called in to use their most sophisticated techniques to follow every shred of evidence. Since she is his closest neighbor, she will be intensely interrogated. And so will Lennie Kellerman, the r.e.t.a.r.ded man who is the neighborhood's All Seeing Eye! Most likely, Lennie will inadvertently give the Feds all the tidbits of information they need to look back to her. And under such intense scrutiny, she was sure she would crack, and confess to mutilating and disposing of the body. But that's not all. With the body destroyed, how could she then prove that she didn't murder the Judge? She probably couldn't. The entire civilized world would not only hear about the case, but her name would be used as the Jezebel who seduced the good Judge, then murdered him, mutilated him, and disposed of his body!

What a mess she had made! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why do I always make the wrong decisions? Here she was, set for life, having won the Georgia Lottery, and there was no reason to think anything would go wrong the rest of her life. And then, in less than a year, she had screwed it all up, by doing this! Her daughters would most likely inherit her fortune, because she was probably going to jail.

Or maybe not. She hadn't been caught yet! She could still dispose of these parts, and everything still work out all right. But where would she put them? She still had plenty of time, because no one even suspected that the Judge was gone yet. That was the good thing about it. She still had time to put things in order.

She returned to the freezer and dumped out the contents of the garbage bag. Then she picked up the frozen head and p.e.n.i.s, and put them back into the bag by themselves. As she was tying a knot in the bag, the thought came to mind, that whoever said that 'two heads were better than one', had never found themselves in this predicament, with two heads in a bag, in their freezer. She almost laughed at her little pun, though there was certainly nothing funny about it.

Now, what to do with them? There had to be at least a million ways to dispose of them, and she wanted to do it as soon as possible, but for now, she had to play it cool. There was plenty of time, so why not think about it awhile? She left the bag in the freezer, covered with bags of veggies, until the right method came to her.

16.

At 5:30 Sunday evening, Drew and Lois got back to the hotel from their bus tour of London, to find Travis sleeping like a rock, and the alarm clock doing its best to wake him, but not succeeding.

"Oh my gosh! He's going to be late for that meeting with his publisher! Wake him up, Drew! Shake him!"

"Hey Dad! Wake up!"

"Mruf! What?"

"Get up, Travis! You're going to be late!"

"What time is it?"

"Five thirty-three!"

Travis jumped up and looked at the alarm clock. "Stupid Alarm clock! It's been sounding off for thirty minutes, and I couldn't hear it!"

"Are you late?"

"Not yet, but I have to hustle." He jumped into his pants, and slipped on his shirt.

"Are you taking your new ma.n.u.script with you? They might want to see it too!"

"Yes, Mom, I am planning to take it too. Drew, get it out of my suitcase, while I go to the bathroom. I was planning to take a shower, but I don't have time."

Lois sounded just like his mother, when she gave him the direct order. "Go ahead and take a quick one! First impressions are important! If you are a minute late, so what! You don't want to be stinking up the place! You're not just representing yourself, you are representing Alabama! What time are they picking you up?"

"Six, in front of the hotel."

"You've got plenty of time! Take a shower!"

There was no arguing with her, so he took a shower, and put on fresh clothes.

"You're not wearing that, are you?"

"What's wrong with this?"

"Not formal enough! You want to at least look business-like, even if you're not! You look just like a yahoo from Alabama!"

"I can't do much about that! I didn't even bring a suit and tie, Mom!"

"Well, you should have!"

"This is just an informal 'h.e.l.lo' dinner, to get to know each other. They understand I just got off an international flight! A shirt and pants will do just fine!"

"Okay, it's your career!"

Drew just grinned at him, as he put on his deodorant, and b.u.t.toned his shirt. He'd never heard his Dad being talked to like a kid before, but he knew better than to say anything. At five minutes till six, Travis picked up the bag with his new ma.n.u.script, and headed out. Drew and Lois left too, to eat dinner downstairs, with the rest of the group.

Travis felt like a kid waiting on the school bus, as he stopped on the curb. He had no idea who was supposed to pick him up. He had been there less than a minute, when a black taxi pulled up, and the driver asked, "Perchance, are you Travis Lee?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then I am here to pick you up for your dinner engagement! Hop in, sir, and we will be on our way!"

As he closed the back door, the driver asked, "You're first time in London, Sir?"

"Yes, it is. Very nice city, and country."

"We like it, Sir. Your destination is relatively close by, so this will be a short ride." They went about six blocks down the same main street that his hotel was on, and pulled to the curb in front of a very nice restaurant.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing, Sir. Jester Books has already paid me, even the tip!"

"Then thanks for the ride."

Travis couldn't help thinking that Jester Books must be a lot bigger publisher than he thought they were, to invite him to dinner at a place like this. Or perhaps they were just trying to make a good first impression on England's #1 best-selling author. He wished he had dressed a little nicer, especially when he saw that the way the waiter was dressed. It made him look a little shabby, by comparison.

"My name is Travis Lee."

"Yes, Mr. Lee, we were expecting you! Right this way! The executive dining area is on the third floor." He led Travis to an escalator which went up to the second floor, then on to a second escalator that took him even higher, to a floor that looked like a giant greenhouse. It was a virtual jungle of tropical trees, plants and vines along the way to a secluded table with a bay window that overlooked the busy street below. Seated there already, was a very gorgeous lady in a red dress, with flaming red hair. She appeared to be in her mid 30's. She stood up as he approached, revealing a tantalizing body as well.

"Ah yes! Travis Lee, I presume? Writer extraordinaire!"

"Yes Ma'am! Travis Lee, but I don't know about the 'writer extraordinaire' part!"

She extended him a handshake that was rather firm for a lady. "I am Angelina Bagley, coordinator of Author Affairs at Jester Books. Please be seated! And yes, extraordinary is exactly how I would describe a writer who has captured the British Best-seller's #1 spot!"

"So, Aaron Bagley is your Dad?"

"Yes, but I a.s.sure you, that I have earned my position here!" (Ouch! Travis detected a twinge of resentment in her retort, though he had intended no insinuation that she had not earned it.) "My father founded this company the year I was born!"

"Wow, so Jester Books has been around for quite awhile!" (Ouch! Strike two. He could see that she had to force a smile at his subtle insult at her age.) The waiter interrupted, and salvaged this quickly sinking ship. "Miss Bagley, would you and your guest like drinks before dinner?"

"Yes, we certainly would! I can use a drink! What will you have, Mr. Lee?" (He almost said 'nothing for me', which would have further implied that she was a drunk, and that would have been a quick strike three, so he decided to order a drink.) "I'll have a Scotch, straight, two fingers."

"And for you, Miss Bagley?"

"My usual martini."

"Yes, Ma'am."

As he left to get their drinks, she leaned over the table toward Travis, as though she had a secret to tell him. In a low voice, and a serious tone, she said, "I have read 'The Relic' from cover to cover, and I even went back and re-read a few chapters, which is something that I never do, and I want you to know that I think you are a masterful writer!"

"Why, thank you, Miss Bagley!"

"Please, call me Angel. All my friends do."

"All right, Angel. And you can call me Travis. All my friends and enemies, call me that."

"Well, Travis, I certainly hope we will be the former!"

"Absolutely."

"I want you to know that I am an avid reader, and I know good writing when I see it, and yours is not even close to being 'good'. It is great! I can see 'the Relic' becoming a true cla.s.sic in the gender of horror! I can envision your writing style being taught one day to aspiring creative writing students at major universities!"

"Thanks for the compliments, but I don't think my writing is really that good!"

"Oh, but it is! The way you paint pictures of your characters is so graphic! Your words entice me to imagine the smell of sour perspiration on a man who has been out toiling in the fields! The rank flatulation of eating boiled eggs and garlic, washed down with warm beer in a smoke filled pub!"

"Pictures that are hardly pleasant, I can a.s.sure you!"

"But they are real pictures! Visual images of real life! Reading your work is like visiting an art exhibit, of real life photographic images that are both disturbing, yet intriguing! Images that you cannot take your eyes off of! And the interconnecting relationships, and twisted plots, are great for any gender of writing, but the way you combine it with real, heart-stopping horror is just, . . . well, it's masterful!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"Oh, I love it! But I'm not the only one! Just look at the sales figures for 'the Relic'! They speak for themselves! I once tried to write, when I was in college, but the words just would not flow for me!"

"What kind of stories did you write?"

"What else? Romance! But it fell pretty flat. Have you ever tried your hand at romance?"

"Ha! Yes, but it quickly turned into a gory murder mystery. I also tried children's books, but that turned into a horrific tale of cannibalism and ritualistic murder! I just don't seem to be wired for romance, or children's books."

"Well, you are certainly wired for horror! That bespeaks of a dark side of your psyche! But that is good for a horror writer! If you continue turning out work like this, you will be a very rich man, Travis, because the world hungers for this kind of writing! Stephen King's works have started to dry up."

"The folks back home who have read it, seem to like it. But I don't think I'll be getting rich off 'The Relic', because I am getting no royalties from it."

"Yes! That is so sad for you too. I couldn't believe that you would sign such a contract! But then, some writers will do anything to get their first work in print. I have seen writers literally beg us to publish their work, but if it is not sellable we simply cannot do it. But yours is so obviously marketable, I could not see why you opted to go with such a small and 'questionable' publisher as Maple Leaf."

"At the time, my efforts to find a publisher were half-hearted. I sent out a few ma.n.u.scripts, but didn't follow up on them. Then Maple Leaf, who I thought at the time, was a reputable publisher, contacted me, and offered to publish it free of charge. I had no other offers, so I went with them. Yes, I did read the clause in the contract where it said they could sell my work to another publisher, with no compensation to me, but that was only if they had to file for bankruptcy, and at the time, they were seemingly a growing, healthy company. I didn't realize that I was just seeing the false face they were showing the world. But that was my fault. I'm glad that Jester now has it, if for no other reason than to get it out there, where readers can buy it! If I can help you promote it, and boost your sales figures, then perhaps I can profit from the sale of my second book."

"I am sure you will, with the right publisher! And I am prepared to convince you that we are the right publisher! Of course you know also, that your present contract with Maple Leaf, which we bought out, will expire in 19 months, at which time, the publication rights revert back to you. And at its present height of popularity, it will almost certainly still be in the top ten, 19 months from now, which will be great leverage for you to re-sign with us, for a handsome royalty percentage. And, might I add, a few added bonuses and fringe benefits!"

"That will be something for me to consider, when the time comes."

"Your writing just fascinates me! One of my favorite parts of 'The Relic' is the torrid love scene between Julio and Samantha! Your descriptions are simply mesmerizing! And you say that you cannot write romance! I beg to differ! I have to confess, that as I read that portion of your book, I felt a tremor of o.r.g.a.s.m myself! Now, no writer has ever done that to me with mere words! I can only imagine what magic you could work with your more physical attributes!"

"Well, I'm glad I could be of service."

Angel erupted with a laugh, which she quickly m.u.f.fled with her hand. "I'm sorry, that just struck me in a funny way. You do have a straightforward way with words, Travis! Your wife must be thrilled with your many talents! There is a Mrs. Lee, is there not?"

"Yes, her name is Janice."

"Too bad! I was hoping you were presently 'unattached'. And I suppose she came to England with you as well! Of course she did! If you were my hubby, I wouldn't let you out of my sight!"

"No, actually she stayed at home. I am traveling with a school group, which includes Drew, my oldest son, and my mother. They both wanted to see England."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, so your wife did not come with you?"

"No, she is not crazy about flying, although she does on occasion. I took her to Greece last year."

"That must have been nice!"

"It was, minus a few distractions. She stayed home this time with the rest of the kids. We have five, plus I have a teen age daughter from a previous relationship."

"You have six children? Yet one more facet of this jewel of a man!"

"They are ages 19 through 11. They are a real handful at times."