Leann Sweeney - Pick Your Poison

I tried making myself invisible in the corner, some mean feat in an empty cubicle.

But he was so concerned with shoving his tarpaulin-wrapped load into the closet, he didn’t see me.

Steven dropped his heavy bundle, and I flinched at the lifeless thud. He leaned on the door frame, catching his breath and wiping rain and sweat off his forehead with his forearm.

And then he saw me.

His eyes flickered, but I didn’t read surprise in his face. I stood, putting my hands flat against the wall behind me, knowing I was trapped in this closet and in this house—and in my own living nightmare.

He said, “Your gears are turning full speed, aren’t they, Abby?” He blocked the door with his spread arms, and the smell of his perspiration fueled a wave of nausea.

I had to get past him somehow.

“Sorry I missed you over at my office,” he said. “Seems I remember you telling me more than once to not leave the CD drive open. Too easy for dust to get inside the computer. Very careless of you, babe.” He smiled.

I felt my breath coming faster and kept looking down at the tarp. At the body. I wished I’d hear a moan, or see some small movement, but nothing came, and I feared nothing would.

“After I took care of my friend here, I planned on telling you how I damaged the CD by accident.”

“Could we discuss this somewhere else?” I glanced again at the black plastic shroud. Wisps of silver hair protruded from the end nearest me.

Steven took my arm as I stepped over Feldman’s body—it had to be Feldman—then pulled me toward the parlor.

“I needed a place to park Sammy’s weary bones until the weather lets up,” he said. “The argument which led to his little accident concerned you, so you’ve only got yourself to blame for his death.”

I halted, his fingers tightening on my arm.

“You killed him, and it’s my fault?” I said, incredulous.

“An accident, Abby. Don’t take it so hard.” He reached over and flipped the lights on, then rubbed his chin with his free hand. “You showing up here complicates things.” He stared at me, his green eyes narrow. They caught the light and seemed almost yellow, like a snake’s.

“But you know something, babe? I think it’s time you had the truth. I owe you that before we say good-bye.”

A permanent good-bye, of course. “What happened? How could—”

“What happened?” He yanked me toward him. “Once upon a time I married a princess. A beautiful princess, with the softest skin I ever touched. But she wanted someone exactly like beloved King Charlie. Did anyone ever tell you to be careful what you wish for, Abby, because you might just get it?” He squeezed my upper arm.

I pulled away and a day’s worth of grief, fear, and rage exploded. “I can’t believe how you manipulated me! And now you’ve got the gall to say I’m to blame for the mess you’ve made?”

He shoved me hard. “You’re not getting the last word this time!”

I hit the wall hard, my head bouncing off the plaster. I went down, my palms sliding against the textured paint, scraping the skin on my hands.

I was too stunned to move for several seconds.

He sat cross-legged opposite me, his spread knees close enough to keep me pinned, his eyes tired and wild at the same time, his whiskey breath hot in my face.

I swallowed, trying to rid myself of the tightness in my throat. “Go ahead,” I said softly. “Tell me how we got to this corner of hell.” I willed back my tears, vowing I’d never reveal how afraid I was to him. Never .

“Guess you figured out your daddy wasn’t so perfect, huh? Pure dumb luck when I stumbled on the truth. The day I found out about Feldman, I bet I could have pitched pennies down the neck of a swinging beer bottle and made every one. Charlie had a regular gold mine of well-kept secrets and would have spent every last dime to keep the truth from you and Kate.”

“I know Daddy paid you, but those canceled checks he wrote to you were dated before Ben came to work for us. How do those connect to the murder?”

“Those checks were first payments on a special insurance policy. How should I put it? Charlie was paying me for services not rendered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I had these pesky gambling debts. Jerks in suits breathing down my neck, wanting their money plus interest. So Charlie said he’d help me out. But only as long as I kept my hand out of the cookie jar—you being the cookie jar, babe.”

“He paid you to stay away from me?”

“That’s right. Your brain’s firing like one of your damn computers. No matter what happened between us, I never doubted your smarts for a minute.”

I was aware of my chest rising and falling way too fast. I closed my eyes. Squeezed them shut. I couldn’t focus on Daddy’s betrayal. I had to stay calm, watch for any chance to escape, even though I felt like a knife was slashing at my heart. “But you didn’t stay away, Steven. You were always hanging around.”

“But I didn’t make any moves on you, either. I could have had you back in bed in a New York minute. Too risky, though. Charlie might have caught us, or you might have blabbed to him about us getting back together.”

Okay. He’s drifting into fantasyland. And he wants to gloat. So let him. “Did Daddy come to you, or was that arrangement your idea?” I asked.

“Let’s say we came to a mutual understanding. I picked up the checks at his office downtown, so you wouldn’t see me. But one weekend I ran out of cash and stopped by your house to see if Charlie would front me a little extra. By then we were better buddies than when you and I were married. I went around to the back after no one answered the door, and heard Charlie and Ben out in the greenhouse. I got quite an earful about this little illegal adoption.”

“So you started blackmailing Daddy,” I said, scanning the room. Had to escape through the back. The front door was locked.

“You could say I got quite a raise in my take-home pay,” he said. “The last thing Charlie wanted was you and Kate learning the ugly truth from the likes of me.”

He drew out a leather-covered flask from his back pocket and took a swig. “Join me?”

The more he drank, the more he’d talk. He’d get meaner, too, but I’d take that risk. I accepted the bottle, and the whiskey burned all the way down after I swallowed.

“Not your favorite chardonnay, but then I didn’t invite you to this party.” He capped the flask and propped it against his thigh.

“So when Daddy died, you took a salary cut, huh?” I said.

“Give me a little credit, babe. I’m not stupid. I had more than one iron in the fire.”

“Feldman?”

“Boy, it’s been hard staying a step ahead of you.” He laughed and shook his head. “Did you know Ben built houses up in Shade? We had some long talks when Charlie wasn’t around.”

“So you befriended Ben, and he told you about Feldman?”

“Ben wanted to find the guy and put him away for killing his wife,” he said.

Ben believed Feldman killed my mother. Feldman and not my father. He was probably right, but this was cold comfort. “So Ben trusted you,” I said. “Did he mention how he found Daddy in the first place?”

“Ben never said. Charlie agreed to help him find Feldman, and in return, Ben would wait to tell you and Kate the truth about the adoption. But then Charlie up and died from that heart attack.”

“Daddy had already found Feldman, though, right?” I said.

“Not quite. Charlie knew Feldman was still in Galveston. Nothing more. Ben told me as much at Charlie’s funeral.”

“So you’d lost one source of income, but saw another possibility. And you found Feldman first.”