The Kiss Of Death

Chapter 8

Lola stood at the old wood door of the small bungalow, the key held out as the tears welled in her eyes.

"Why did you agree if you knew you were leaving?"

She slipped the key into the lock, twisting it until the door creaked open. Lola didn't know if she would find any clues to the mystery that was Frank and Emma, but she could always hold hope that there might just be something.

It didn't surprise her that Bert hadn't bothered to do anything about the place. She liked him, he was a good man, but he was a lazy man too. The house was almost bare, the lounge room held two single seat lounges that looked worn and dated with its paisley material. Lola hadn't seen a television that had such a small screen in years, surrounded in veneer wood, and stood freely on its four legs. She huffed with a slight grin, who would want such an archaic television in this age of flat screens and LCD? There was no dining table, and the kitchen was just a line of wood units and an old wood burner stove. She opened the cupboards finding them all bare. Lola couldn't help but squint as she looked around the kitchen. What was missing? The fridge. There wasn't one. There weren't even the markings on the cruddy vinyl floor of one being here. She continued to the other side of the lounge room to the two bedrooms, and what she figured was an attempt at a bathroom.

It was a bath that had terrible water rust marks and a toilet that made her gag. There was nothing for her in the room anyway, she continued to the first of the bedrooms. It was just an old mattress on the floor, no linen. Lola sighed as she lifted the mattress, dragging it out to the truck she had hired. If the charity shop didn't want these things, she figured she could take them straight to the dump. The next room was the same, all it had was a mattress. By the time Lola had gotten to the last of the lounge chairs, she was tired. Worse yet, she knew she had to clean the place as well.

"If I ever find you, Frank Taylor, I will make you pay." She muttered as she dragged the heavy chair out the front door.

As it dropped off the cement pad to the path, the cushion fell away. Lola spied the photo that fell with it, quickly grabbing it before the wind blew it away. It was of a woman and two children, a boy and a girl. Her eyes widened as she looked to the familiar green eyes.

"Oh my god." She whispered.

She tucked it into her pocket and continued dragging the chair to the truck.

Several hours later, Lola found herself at the charity shop, stunned with disbelief. Lola held the box of the few things she had found in the kitchen under her arm.

"Seriously?"

The woman nodded at her as if she was delusional.

"There's nothing wrong with these things, it's not as if I'm expecting you to pay for them."

Though, Lola thought, some kind of monetary recuperation for the cost of the truck hire and her time spent cleaning the place would be nice.

"Second hand mattresses are not accepted because it's unhygienic and we can't take kitchen utensils because there could be a risk of allergen contamination. Even if they're run through the highest setting on a dishwasher, we still can't take them, company policy. The chairs would never sell in a million years and the television." The woman scoffed. "Are you serious? What century was that thing made in?"

"Fine." Lola snapped and dumped the box over the truck side. "Let them be landfill instead of recycling them."

The woman shrugged like she didn't care about the planet or offering something for free to those who were less fortunate. Lola climbed into the truck, thinking that if the stupid cow didn't get out of her way fast enough, she might just run her down.

After dumping the keys at the real estate, Lola drove out to the rubbish dump, hoping they might take the unwanted goods. It made her wonder where Frank and Emma had gotten them, they were so dated it wasn't funny.

The fellow at the rubbish dump looked at Lola but said nothing, removing the things from the truck for her. Next on the list was filling the truck with gas before returning it. Lola sighed as she looked at the petrol station ahead of her. There was no choice in this, the truck had to have a full tank of gas before she returned it, and there was only one station between her and the depot.

Bobby was grumbling to yet another person as she filled the tank, watching her carefully. When the person had their fill of his complaints and had managed to find an excuse to leave, Bobby made his way over.

"Lola. You seen Frank lately?"

"Not since last night."

"S'pose you heard he's skipped town with his sister?"

Lola nodded as she pulled the nozzle from the tank.

"Moving stuff?"

"Just some old crap to dump. Needed something bigger than my little bug."

Bobby nodded as he took the cash from her.

"If you see that boy, you tell him he'd better not show his face here again."

"Sure thing Bobby."

She didn't want to tell him that there was no way Frank or Emma were ever going to set foot in this town again. Lola suspected that there might be several towns like this one, with a trail of stolen money and broken hearts.