Gypped by Carol Higgins Clark Read Free Book Online

numbers were written on a pad somewhere. But there was nothing. It wasn’t Zelda’s house, so there were no notes on the refrigerator or counter, and nothing in the drawers. Norman’s number was probably in Zelda’s phone.
    Regan went back upstairs, and crept into the bedroom. She’d left one small light on in the corner that wouldn’t bother Zelda, but would let Regan keep an eye on her.
    Zelda’s head was moving from side to side on the pillow. “Oh,” she groaned. “I’m so sick.”
    “Can I get you a little ginger ale?” Regan whispered. “It might help settle your stomach.”
    “No. I just wish the room would stop spinning.”
    “That’s a horrible feeling,” Regan commiserated. “You don’t have any health problems I should know about, do you? Being sick like this makes you really dehydrated. Do you take any heart medicine or anything?”
    “No. I never get sick.” Zelda put her hands to her head. “It’s so nice of you to stay. My mom thought you were so cute when you lost on the game show.” Zelda tried to smile.
    That does it, Regan thought. I’m not going anywhere.
    It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d tried to call Norman. He would never have heard his phone.
    He’d made his way to a karaoke bar and was singing his heart out.

9

    R egan was curled up in the chair next to Zelda’s bed, her legs stretched out on a hassock. She’d made Zelda promise to wake her if she wanted to get up and go to the bathroom. Regan had placed a bucket next to the bed in case Zelda couldn’t make the fifty yard dash.
    But Regan couldn’t fall asleep. She was worried about Zelda and the chair didn’t exactly inspire slumber. The house was so quiet. I want to find out the history of this place, she thought. Being here is like going back in time. It feels like the set for an old Hollywood movie. Then her thoughts turned to Jack. He was so understanding. The second night we’re in California I end up in sleeping in a chair in a mysterious house that probably has bodies buried in the backyard.
    A loud crashing noise downstairs startled her into an upright position. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest.
    Zelda was fast asleep.
    There was no landline in the bedroom to call for help. There was a phone on the wall in the kitchen, but she wasn’t even sure whether it worked. She grabbed her cell phone, which might or might not work downstairs. Regan walked over to the desk,grabbed a dull letter opener, and left the room. She stood in the hallway and listened.
    Nothing. The whole house was again eerily quiet. Zelda had told Regan that the house didn’t have an alarm system. Someone could have opened one of the windows on the ground floor and gotten in. I probably should have gone around and made sure every window and door was locked, but I didn’t want to leave Zelda for long. Regan’s mind was racing. I could call Jack, but then again, I can’t call Jack unless I go downstairs. Maybe I can text him but he might not hear it. In any case, it would take him time to get here. I know he’d call the LAPD and have a patrol car race over, but I don’t want to involve the police for no reason.
    I’ve got to go check. Regan started down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom and waited. Whatever made that noise couldn’t have been too far away from where I am right now, she reasoned, otherwise I wouldn’t have heard it. To her left, the door to the bathroom was partially ajar. She gave it a slight push. Slowly it creeked open. Regan flipped on the light.
    What a sight!
    The shower curtain was in a heap in the tub, ornate heavy metal hooks scattered all around, the rusted rod now sticking out sideways. A decorative glass vase that Regan remembered seeing on the vanity had shattered on the floor.
    Regan breathed a deep sigh of relief, laughed nervously, then shut the door. This place is falling apart. That mess can wait until the morning.
    Emboldened, Regan went around the ground floor checking all the