Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

Devastated, Molly unsteadily got to her feet. Stuffing the MasterCard bill back in the envelope, she stuck it in her purse. She turned off the overhead light and stepped out of his office. She was shaking and tried to hold back her tears as she walked through the corridor. Just outside the glass double doors, on her way to the elevators, she heard her cell phone ring.

Molly reached into her purse, and checked the caller ID: CALLER UNKNOWN.

She took a deep breath and pressed Talk. She didn’t say anything. She could hear the asthmatic breathing on the other end of the line — then that voice: “Mrs. Dennehy, do you know where your husband was when his ex-wife was murdered?”

Molly swallowed hard. She couldn’t stop shaking. “He was in Vancouver, British Columbia,” she answered steadily. “And he was with you — you malignant bitch. Wasn’t he? How did you like the flowers?”

She heard a click on the other end.

Jeff heard a plane soaring overhead from the airport nearby. He walked into the Marriott’s bar, an all-glass and wood-beam circular dome. With the overcast skies above, the light pouring through to the bar was subdued. The place was about half full with the lunch crowd.

Jeff found her at a table with a view of the indoor pool and tropical garden area. She was dressed demurely in a white turtleneck and black slacks, and she looked nervous. She had her favorite drink, a Tom Collins, in front of her. She smiled up at him.

He plopped down in the chair across from her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked under his breath.

“I just wanted to be near you,” she said.

A pretty Latino waitress approached their table. “Can I get you something from the bar?”

“Nothing, thank you,” Jeff replied, turning his head away slightly.

“He’ll have Wild Turkey — double, with a glass of ice on the side,” the woman said.

He waited until the waitress left before he spoke again. “I’m not staying long,” he frowned. “And I’m not drinking with you. I told you when we first got together six months ago that it was nothing permanent. It shouldn’t have lasted even this long. I love Molly. I’m not going to let you destroy my marriage or my family.” He leaned in closer to her. “Are you out of your fucking mind, setting up house right on my block?”

“But she doesn’t know,” argued his Willow Tree Court neighbor. “And I promise, she’ll never know — not until you’re ready to tell her. Have I ever tried to push you in that direction? I don’t want to break up your marriage. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m in love with you, Jeff. Like I said, I just wanted to be near you.”

The waitress returned with his Wild Turkey and a glass of ice. She set a dish of pretzels between them. “Thank you,” Jeff muttered, his head down.

“No worries,” said the waitress, and then she headed to another table.

“I really don’t get ‘no worries’ in lieu of ‘you’re welcome, ’ ” the woman said, nibbling at a pretzel. “It just doesn’t seem to be the right response to ‘thank you.’ It’s like I wasn’t worried, I was just thanking you. Know what I mean?”

He stared across the table at her. He wondered how she could act so cute right now and make lighthearted conversation. She didn’t seem to comprehend the seriousness of what she’d done. “It’s over,” he said.

She quickly shook her head. “No, please. Listen, listen, have your drink, and — and — and we’ll talk. I didn’t mean to make you angry when I moved into that house. I just wanted to be close by. I’m staying out of your way, Jeff. I mean, Jesus, I’ve been there all this time, and you haven’t even seen me — until yesterday.”

He poured some of the Wild Turkey over the ice and gulped it down. “You look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want to hurt anyone, and yet you’re telephoning Molly and asking if she knows where I was the night Angela was murdered.”

She shook her head. “Not me, Jeff. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I want to blow the whistle on myself? I like what I have with you. I wouldn’t do anything to wreck that.”

“You already have,” he said.

She grabbed his hand. “Listen, if you’re really that upset about the move, I’ll just pack up my stuff and be gone by the end of the week. Poof, problem solved, okay?”

He had another hit of his drink and leaned back in the chair. “I’m going to tell Molly about us tonight, and I’ll beg for her forgiveness. Then I’ll go to the police and explain to them that someone is harassing my wife. They’ll probably question you. If you’re telling me the truth, and it’s not you making those calls, then it’s probably one of your friends. Think over which of your friends you’ve told about us.”

“Jeff, I haven’t told a soul,” she whispered, tearing up.

“After today, I don’t want to see you again. You’ll have to move. I need you to stay away from me and my family.”

“You can’t mean that,” she pleaded, shaking her head. “Don’t be this way, Jeff. I made a dumb mistake. People in love can do dumb things sometimes. Can’t you please forgive me?”

He just glanced down at the tabletop.

She sat back and kept one hand around her glass. “So — you want to break up. Do you have to be so cruel about it? Is this how you want to wrap up what we’ve had together? Six months, that’s a pretty good run, Jeff.” Her voice began to crack, but she was smiling. “Does it have to end so — so badly? Can’t we hold each other one last time? C’mon, honey, you’d think I could have some closure, at least. What do you say we have one last time? Listen, if you go to the front desk and get us a room, I’ll drive to the liquor store and buy us a bottle of Wild Turkey. Remember that time in Portland? It’ll be just like that.” Her hand came up to his face. “C’mon, baby. What do you say?”

Closing his eyes, Jeff let out a long sigh of resignation.

She parked around the corner from the liquor store’s entrance, near the Dumpster, where there was less foot traffic. No one could see her at work in the car’s front seat. She’d ground up ten tablets of ecstasy, and used the rolled-up liquor-store receipt to funnel it into the Wild Turkey bottle.

She’d bought the pills from Wolf, the same sleazy character who had wired Courtney’s phone to blow up. She was a bit upset with him, since Courtney hadn’t died. But she figured it wasn’t his fault. Besides, she took a certain satisfaction in the fact that Courtney had been maimed and disfigured. No one would ever give Courtney Hahn a break or hold a door for her again just because the girl was pretty. Still, she was disappointed and had decided last night to abandon her notions of a miniature recreation of Courtney’s smash-up. After all, Courtney wasn’t dead. Yet she couldn’t toss out that little Courtney doll, wrapped in the material from her pullover, with half of its face blackened and slightly melted.

She sort of cherished it.

Along with the ecstasy, she’d purchased some cocaine and heroin from Wolf. It cost nine hundred dollars for a thin packet of heroin no bigger than a teabag. Wolf assured her that she was getting a terrific deal, and he even tutored her on how it should be introduced into the bloodstream for the effect she desired.

Her cell phone rang, and she saw the number on her caller ID pad. She clicked it on, and put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Jeff,” she said.

“I’m in room 104, on the first floor — by the pool,” he said.

“See you in about five minutes, my love,” she replied. Then she clicked off.

She put the bottle of Wild Turkey back inside the long, narrow brown paper bag. Starting up the car, she pulled onto International Boulevard and thought about what Chris’s guidance counselor had written in his notes regarding Jeff Dennehy: