An older-looking man who oddly looked a lot like Mr. Burns fromThe Simpsonswas just coming down the hall.
I jumped, putting my hand to my chest like he startled me (okay, maybe he did even though I knew he was there. This guy was just creepy) and said, “Holy crap! Who are you? Why are you in my apartment?”
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” he replied, looking me over.
“We do?”
“Yes, and I think you know exactly who I am. Why are you pretending you don’t?”
I thought about my friends just on the other side of the door. “Could we go talk in the living room? The hallway is kind of close quarters.”
He pursed his lips. “Okay.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out into the living room. I followed, watching his every move.
“Marilyn Monroe,” he said, staring at the wall of posters of my idol. “She was very full of life.” He turned to look at me. “Until I killed her.”
I gasped. “You didn’t kill her. She died of an overdose.”
“Did she?” he asked, lifting a brow.
“If you killed her, why didn’t you take her body? I hear you have a little problem with hoarding.” In truth, I had no idea how many bodies he did or did not have. Charming and I hadn’t spent our time talking about him. Now I kind of wished I knew more. I felt very unprepared for a confrontation with him.
He laughed. A real laugh. “I don’t usually collect female bodies. But I’m thinking maybe it’s time for a change.”
Oh, that’s great, Frankie. Inspire the body collector to start collecting women, starting with you.
“Why are you here?” I asked, hoping to steer him away from the idea of hanging my body in his closet.
“I seemed to have misplaced something. I was wondering if you had it?”
I almost told him this wasn’t the lost and found, but I bit my tongue. I didn’t think he would appreciate my sarcasm. “What did you lose?”
“You don’t know?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t like liars.”
“I’m not lying. I don’t have whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“Then you won’t mind if I take a look around.”
Oh, I minded all right. “No,” I burst out and his eyes narrowed. I took a breath. “I mean, now isn’t really a good time.”
“Really? What were you doing in your bedroom when I got here?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business.”
He smiled, then came across the room, holding out his hands. “Step aside,” he warned. “Wouldn’t want me to accidentally touch you.”
I jumped out of the way like he was a speeding car and I was a squirrel.
He went down the hallway and yanked open the door and went inside. “Well, what do we have here?” he said.
They didn’t get out. I didn’t stall him long enough. Now he was going to take Charming’s body and kill us all.
I ran down the hallway, skidding to a stop just inside the doorway, ready to beg for our lives. But Storm was gone. So was Charming’s body.
