The Game

6. Tammy Dies

In the kitchen, we filled with Sleep Spray the same perfume squirter I'd used on Caroline earlier. While there, Caroline showed me an official score sheet on the kitchen table. We'd transfer my scores from the index cards to the sheet whenever we got the chance.

"So," I said, "It's a trip to 'The Morgue' for Tammy right off."

"Yep," Caroline said. "Let's have a look at what she's got planned, shall we?"

We stepped back out of the kitchen onto the pool deck. Tammy was sitting on a chaise lounge, still in her pink bikini, holding a dog-eared copy of The Maltese Falcon. Soft jazzy music came from the pool stereo, a saxophone so hot it left a mark.

She looked up from her book, her big brown eyes melting the air between us like so much hot wax.

"Well, hello there," she said, and I thought she was talking to me.

She wasn't. "Hello, Miss Cohen," said a voice behind me. I turned to see Tina step out of the shadows, wearing a gray trench-coat and a fedora cocked and pulled down, partially obscuring her face with dark shadow. She carried a bright green large-capacity water gun, carried it like she meant to use it. "It seems to me you were born to be murdered," she said.

Tina spoke in a deep harsh voice clipping her words like a bargain hunter's coupons.

Tammy stood with movements as smooth as aged gin, setting her book down on the ground by the chair. "I don't mind a reasonable amount of trouble," she said.

"Here's to plain speaking," said Tina, "and clear understanding. You've gone too far this time, doll-face. You can't just rub out anybody you want, you know."

Tammy had a face as cold as a penguin's toes. "What are ya' gonna do about it, huh? Ya' can't touch me 'cause I know where the Falcon is, and if you polish me off, you'll never touch it with those grubby little fingers again."

"Now, that ain't quite true," said a voice from across the pool. Stepping into the light was Stephanie Washington, also dressed in a trench-coat and fedora. She carried her own high-power water gun.

Tammy turned and showed surprise in those beautiful browns of hers. "Fingers!" she said.

"Yeah, that's right," said Stephanie in a nasal voice so oily it raised my cholesterol. "You didn't count on seein' me again, did you girlie?"

Tina raised her weapon. "Seems you got a bit careless, doll," she said. "You didn't watch to see who was watching you."

Tammy looked back and forth between Stephanie and Tina. "Look," she said, panic in her voice, "maybe we can work something out!"

Stephanie raised her weapon as well now, and began to walk around the pool.

"It's too late for that," said Tina. "When a girl's partner is killed, she's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't make any difference what you thought of him. He was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it. Well, when one of your organization gets killed, it's... it's bad business to let the killer get away with it, bad all around."

Now, Stephanie had made her way around the pool. Tammy stood halfway between Tina and Stephanie, right at the lip of the pool, no more than ten feet from either woman. "Now, wait a minute," said Tammy. She was scared, more frightened than a cat in a dog pound. "You got me all wrong!"

"The best goodbyes are short. Adieu," said Tina.

Tina and Stephanie simultaneously fired their water guns, sending an intense spray of water against Tammy's left and right sides. Tammy threw her hands out and shook violently. Her wavy hair was soon soaked and plastered with water to her neck and shoulders and back as her head twisted and rocked.

After a few seconds, the streams of water stopped. Tammy stood at the edge of the pool, facing the water, her legs apart, her head staring off past the other side of the pool. Her arms fell with a slap to her sides. After a moment, she slowly tottered forward, and then fell with a splash like a board into the pool.

"You're a good man, sister," said Tina, and she and Stephanie turned and walked away.

Tammy hadn't moved, face down in the water. She started to drift off a bit. I figured what the hell. I kicked off my shoes and jumped into the water. She was on the shallow end. I flipped her over and then carried her in my arms up the pool stairs. She did not gasp for air as I expected she might; her breath was slow, if a bit deep at first. I walked over and laid her very limp form down on the chaise lounge she'd occupied earlier.

"Check her back," said Caroline, who was clearly trying to decide if she was impressed or jealous.

I tried to sit her up, but she flopped forward, folding neatly in half, her head against her knees. I hadn't seen it during the opening ceremonies, but on the pink bikini top was another little tag, reading "PULL ME". Maybe it was a different top.

I pulled and the top came apart, revealing Tammy's bare back. I lay her back on the lounge, and saw that she had some kind of white latex form over her chest, apparently glued in place somehow. It was very sexy, but not what I kind of hoped for. Ah, well.

Caroline handed me the bottle of Sleep Spray. I pumped a bit of it into Tammy's face. A small smile formed for a second, then faded. She was out.

I lifted her up onto my shoulder and carried her very wet, very limp form away from the jazzy saxophone music at the pool and back through the kitchen and hallway to the parlor (the "Morgue"), Caroline at my heels. I tenderly laid her on the floor, posing her on her back with her arms out and legs together.

Caroline handed me a towel, then when I had dried off a bit, and had another second or so to admire Tammy's sleeping form, she handed me the index card.

I gave her an "8". I didn't want to max things out too quickly, and she did have that little smile there at the end, as cute as it was.

Caroline handed me the next card.

Jessica (sandals) and Lisa (robe) in the Basement

Continue The Game (7. Lisa, I Think You Know Jessica)

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The Game

6. Tammy Dies