Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

“We still haven’t decided on lunch yet,” Angela told the waitress. “Give us a few minutes.”

“Certainly, take your time,” the waitress said.

Angela waited until the waitress walked away, and then she turned toward Molly. “You know, I’m getting pretty sick of all your accusations,” she said. “And I don’t appreciate the threatening phone calls on my cell, either.”

“What calls?” Molly scowled at her.

“Are you on the level?”

“Yes,” Molly said. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

Angela took a sip of wine. “Someone called me on my cell three or four times this week. It was one of those blocked numbers, and all they said was, ‘You’re going to pay for what you did.’ That wasn’t you?”

Baffled, Molly shook her head.

“It’s a woman’s voice — all raspy and crawly. At first, I thought it was that crazy Cassandra, who Jeff was seeing on the sly while we were married. But then I figured, why would she call me? She’d be calling and harassing you now. So — then I figured you had to be the crank caller.”

“Well, it’s not me,” Molly murmured.

“I have a tough time believing you,” Angela replied. “I mean, who else would be calling me like that? You’re the one accusing me of doing all these bizarre things — things that hurt my own children. It doesn’t make any sense.” She shook her head. “You need help, Molly. I’m serious. Insanity must run in your family.”

The reference to Charlie stung. At the same time, Angela was finally admitting that she knew about him. Molly glared at Jeff’s ex and told herself she wasn’t going to tear up. “Nice, Angela,” she said in a low voice. “Now that you found out from your private detective what my brother did, I suppose from now on you’ll get your little digs in wherever you can. Have you sprung the news on Lynette and Jill yet? Is it going to turn up in one of Courtney Hahn’s texts or Facebook announcements soon?”

Frowning, Angela didn’t say anything for a moment. She glanced down at the tablecloth. “I’m sorry, Molly,” she whispered finally. “I apologize. That was — that was a terrible thing to say. You should know, I haven’t told anyone about your brother.” She sipped her wine, and then shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, that’s just what I intended to do when I — when I hired a private detective to dig up whatever he could on you. I’d hoped he’d find something to make you look bad, some good dirt I could share with Jeff and your neighbors. I didn’t expect something so — tragic and awful. It made me ashamed that I hired someone in the first place.”

Molly studied her, and as much as she felt sorry for Angela, she didn’t trust her one bit.

“Believe it or not, Molly, I used to be a nice person,” she said. “I think having an unfaithful husband turned me bitter. Maybe you’re luckier than me. Maybe Jeff has changed his ways. I suppose some people can change.” Angela leaned forward. “I’m being honest with you now. So can you return the favor? Tell me the truth about these calls on my cell. You really don’t know anything about them?”

Molly shook her head.

Angela slumped back in the booth. “Damn, I was almost hoping it was you,” she admitted. “Then at least I’d know who was threatening me. I’m a nervous wreck. It’s no help that someone tried to break into Larry’s house two weeks ago. They didn’t get in — at least the police didn’t think so. Nothing was missing. But they’d pried a screen off a kitchen window. Don’t say anything to the kids. I don’t want them worried about me — or about staying there. I thought I’d have to be alone in that house tonight. Larry was supposed to chaperone an overnight in Olympia with Taylor’s class. Thank God it got canceled.”

At that moment, the waitress returned to their booth.

“I’ll have another one of these,” Angela said, pointing to her near-empty wineglass. “And the chop salad, dressing on the side.”

The waitress looked at Molly, who shook her head. “Nothing else for me, thank you.” She had no intention of sticking around.

As the waitress left, Angela nervously drummed her fingertips on the tabletop. “Listen, Molly. Let’s call a truce and put our heads together on this. I didn’t break into Chris’s locker and leave that note. And I didn’t smash the pumpkins on the front stoop or let myself into the house. And you say you’re not the one calling and threatening me. That means someone else is behind all this, some woman — at least it was a woman calling me. Do you think it’s possible somebody is trying to pit us against each other?”

Molly frowned. “For what purpose?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem to matter to her if my kids get hurt, and that really scares me. We’ve both been married to Jeff — you in the present tense, and me in the past. I wonder if that crazy Cassandra woman is back in his life — or if maybe Jeff has found someone new, and she wants to sit back and watch us scratch each other’s eyes out. I don’t know.”

Shaking her head, Molly grabbed her purse. “Okay, I’ve had enough.” She fished a five out of her wallet and slapped it down on the table. “I’m sick of you implying that Jeff is screwing around on me. I don’t need to hear it — and it’s not true. Of course, the truth and you have always been strangers. Lying seems to come easily to you. . ”

“Now, wait a minute—”

“Screw you, Angela.” She scooted out of the booth. “Last May, you denied over and over again that you’d hired a private detective. And now, you admit you did. You’re a real piece of work. Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Molly, wait!” she said loudly.

A few people at nearby tables stopped and gaped at them. Molly hesitated.

Angela glanced around for a moment, and then she cleared her throat. “I didn’t hire a private detective in May,” she whispered. “I was telling the truth back then.” She nodded at the other side of the booth. “Please, Molly, sit down.”

She didn’t budge. She stood by the booth, scowling at Angela.

Jeff’s ex-wife stared right back at her. “I hired my guy last month,” she explained carefully. “I got the idea after Jeff accused me. But I didn’t act upon it until last month. My guy got all his information off the Internet. It only took him two days. He never went to Chicago.”

Bewildered, Molly sat down at the booth’s edge. “But back in May, who. .”

“That’s just what I’m saying,” Angela whispered. “It’s someone else doing all this.”

Molly shook her head. She felt a little sick.

She had the horrible feeling Angela was telling the truth.

With her tan trench coat draped over the back of her chair, the woman sat at a small table in Palomino. She hadn’t touched the Cobb salad set in front of her ten minutes ago. There wasn’t much chance of anyone recognizing her, but she wore a black pageboy wig just to be on the safe side. She watched the two Mrs. Dennehys talking heatedly in a booth on the other side of the crowded restaurant. She wished she could hear what they were saying.

She wondered if Angela Dennehy realized how pathetic she was. Ray Corson had figured her out immediately. Chris Dennehy’s old guidance counselor had taken some notes after meeting her:

I’m guessing Angela Dennehy was very beautiful once. She still has some panache, but there’s a lot of bitterness in her, and it shows on her face. Clearly, her husband’s womanizing has taken a toll, and she’s trying to turn Chris against him. As difficult as it was for Chris to adjust to his father’s remarrying, it must have been utterly defeating for Chris’s mother. The new Mrs. Dennehy is younger & prettier. Plus she seems like a good person. Chris’s mother can’t be happy about that. I don’t know why she gave up custody of her children, but clearly, she’s doing all she can to poison Chris’s relationship with his dad. It’s horrible to say this, but in many ways, Chris would be better off without her. .