Merry Jones - Elle Harrison 01 - The Trouble With Charlie Read Online Free

broom closet, examined the mop and the bucket. I opened cabinets and drawers, looked inside the microwave and the oven. No rose.
    My hands were ice cold, holding the knife. My spine was jangling. Where the hell was the thing? And how had Charlie managed to move it without my seeing him?
    “This isn’t funny.” I spoke to the air. “If you’re trying to scare me, Charlie, you’re not succeeding.” My voice was thin and shrill, scared. “All you’re doing is pissing me off.”
    Silence.
    “Okay.” I turned off the light. “Fine. Sit in the dark alone and hide. Knock yourself out.”
    Do not tremble so much, I told myself. Do not let him get to you. Keep walking to the steps, do not stop.
    I kept walking, shaking only slightly, still clutching mykitchen utensil/weapon, and I made it to the steps. In fact, I made it all the way up to the top. Then into my bedroom.
    Where I stopped, staring. Not breathing.
    Impossibly, there it was. Delicate, yet dangerously armed with thorns. Red as blood. Perfectly displayed on the pale-cream pillowcase, where Charlie used to leave them.

    A low growl gurgled in my throat as I turned and stumbled backward out of the bedroom and turned to run down the steps. The stairway seemed endless, treacherous in the dim light, but I made it to the bottom, where I raced to the front door, still clutching my stubby little knife, grabbing my handbag, heading out onto the front stoop.
    Standing outside, panting, I wondered how he’d done it? How had he picked up the rose and moved it all the way upstairs without me seeing or hearing him? I had no idea. Couldn’t figure it out. But clearly, he’d managed it. And had succeeded in scaring me right out of the house.
    I grasped the railing, collected my breath, and considered what I was going to do. Was I really going to run to a neighbor’s house, frazzled and jittery, in the middle of the night? What would I say? And what good would it do? If I let Charlie run me out of my home once, he’d do it again and again. I’d never be done with him. No, I couldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t run away.
    Still, I didn’t go back inside. I stood on the porch, holding my knife. Wondering why I was so scared. It wasn’t Charlie. I wasn’t afraid of him. Of being married to him, definitely. But of the man, definitely not. Disappointed, furious, hurt, frustrated, yes. But afraid? No, never. Not once until that moment. I’d come to know Charlie as a liar, manipulator, charmer, sleazeball, and cheat. But, in his defense, he wasn’t mean. Wasn’t impulsive. Didn’t have a temper. His intent wasn’t to hurt others; it was merely to help himself. I had no idea why he was pulling this bizarre prank, but I was convinced he wasn’t planning anythingviolent or cruel. Why should he? Just by moving a flower and saying my name, he had me dropping my plate, stuttering and cursing, running up and down the steps clutching a kitchen knife—all of which was probably cracking him up. Making him reel with laughter. No, I was done. The only way to get Charlie to stop was to calm down and ignore him. And change the locks.
    For a while longer, I stood outside in chill October air, watching the starless night sky, the streetlights, the line of parked cars in front of the row houses across the street. Quieting my breath. Then, deliberately calm, I opened the front door and went back inside. The house was dark. Had I turned out the lights? I didn’t think so, but never mind. Turning them off was just more of Charlie’s mischief. I simply turned them back on and, instead of going up to bed, headed for the bar in the study. I deserved a drink.
    Snapping on the light, I set my knife down on the counter, grabbed a tumbler off the shelf, and pulled out the Johnny Walker Black. Poured a generous few fingers. Drank. Closed my eyes, taking it in. Feeling its heat work its way through my body to my nerves. Relaxing me.
    When I opened my eyes and turned around, I saw him right away. Charlie