Leslie Glass - Over His Dead Body

She put on a fast, sad smile. "Oh Parker, I thought we understood each other. Mitch trusted only me. He wanted me to be his power, his rock. How could you leave me out of such a decision?"

For Mona, the eyes were everything, the mirror of the soul. Parker's eyes were unfocused and runny. He was a weak man who could be slain. She would slay him. Her eyes smiled like President Bush's frosty executioner's smile.

He sighed, shaking his head. "You don't understand. I am a lawyer. I can only act according to my client's instructions."

"I am your client, too, Parker," she reminded him, making some noise with her breathing. "I care for you, and I want to help you, be your most important client, your most lucrative client."

"Don't twist what I'm saying, Mona. We're talking about Mitch now. Mitch did not give you power of attorney, so you did not have any legal right to make decisions concerning his treatment or his end of the business."

"Parker, I want to get a few things straight." Mona still spoke softly, but there was more than ice in her eyes now.

Parker held up his hand. "Me first."

"Parker, don't interrupt me. I am the woman he loves and his business partner and the beneficiary of his will. I think I have the right to determine where he convalesces."

"No, you didn't."

"Parker! My asthma. Don't upset me." She dropped her chin, coughing weakly.

"Someone else had his power of attorney," Parker said sharply.

Her head shot up. "Who?"

"I did."

Mona glared. She'd come to him that day and he'd said nothing about it. "I don't believe it," she retorted.

"Well, believe it."

"You never mentioned it."

"Look, I didn't want to get into a dispute with you." He shrugged.

The man dared to shrug at her. This was a near-death experience for Mona. "Does Cassie know?" she demanded.

"This was confidential. I was trying to avoid a war between you two women. You're impossible, both of you. And now you're going to have to behave yourself, Mona. I really mean it. You're not top dog anymore."

Mona's heart almost failed her. "How could you insult me like this? You know I'm the most unselfish person in the world. I never think of myself. I'd rather walk away than fight with Cassie. I love the woman. Just ask Mitch how-" Mona would have gone on, but Parker interrupted her again.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mona. I'm sorry for all our loss. We all loved Mitch. We're all going to miss him…"

"What are you talking about?" Mona stared. Was she missing something?

"Mitch died last night in his sleep. I just heard a few minutes ago."

"Oh." Mona was staring so hard, her eyes teared. The room swam. She almost fell over but decided not to take the chance. Mitch died at home with Cassie? At that awful house with Cassie hanging over him? Her eyes flooded and overflowed. Poor Mitch, he would have hated that.

She took a minute to absorb. Her lover, her husband-to-be, was gone. There would be no wedding, no golden dress, no honeymoon. Mona gulped back her grief and wiped her eyes with her index finger. Well. Mitch had been an absolute vegetable. She never could have cared for him herself. Perhaps God had spared her a terrible decade of marriage to a cripple. Maybe her one true love was yet to come. She blotted her face with the lace-edged handkerchief stuck in her sleeve and started thinking revenge. The lawsuit she would file against Cassie. Wrongful death. Criminal negligence. There were a million things she could do. She blew her nose.

She needed to get home and make sure the house was clean, the credit cards were flushed. She had to call the insurance company and get them to pay up. If she went ahead and filed a wrongful-death suit against Cassie, could that jeopardize her collecting? Hmmm. She realized Parker hadn't said a single thing.

"Parker, the will, I'd like to see it," she told him.

He nodded. "I'll get a copy for you, but you're not mentioned in it."

Then the bomb struck, and her jaw dropped, literally, as Parker explained. It was the very last thing she'd expected.

"This was the arrangement Mitch made when he reorganized the company five years ago. Sales Importers, Inc., of which you are a minority stockholder, is owned by a Delaware corporation called Amity Holdings. The stockholders of Amity are Marsha, Teddy, me, and Mark," Parker said, deadpan.

"You own me?" Mona was flabbergasted.

"You are a shareholder of Sales. So is Cassie. But neither of you own the company."

"This can't be true, Parker. Mitch always told me Cassie had nothing," Mona cried.

Parker shrugged again. "Well, that's a small exaggeration. You know Mitch. He tended to think whatever he wanted was already his. In fact, Cassie's father had invested heavily in the company at its inception with the stipulation that Cassie hold twenty-five percent of Sales in her own name. Mitch's condition on that score was that Cassie not be able to hold any power over his head. He felt it would hurt the marriage, and apparently her father had agreed. So the stock certificates and the agreement have always been kept here with me." Parker said this with a smile that Mona had never seen before. He was relishing this. Relishing it. Cassie's father must not have told her before he died. Mitch hadn't told her, and Parker hadn't told her. All these years Cassie hadn't known she could be a player, and Mona had had no idea that the playing field had been rigged against her from the start. Mona finally saw the true truth: The two stinkers, Mitch and Parker, had been in it for themselves. They were homos.

Mona's eyes started to tear again. She couldn't help it. Mitch and Parker had gone to fucking college with each other, and the bottom line was, they were men. They only trusted each other. Mona's spine stiffened with resolve. She was going to sue Parker for malpractice for sure. She might even do a class action with Cassie. They'd take Parker and Ira to the cleaners. They'd make millions. Who knew, maybe even billions. It was not impossible.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" Parker said, swiveling from side to side, suddenly the most clearly evil bastard in the whole wide world.

Mona wanted to wipe the supercilious look right off his fat face. Amity Holdings, what kind of joke was that? She yearned to say something truly devastating, to threaten and have a tantrum, trash his place, break those big mirrored windows and throw him out to his death. Even blow up the whole building. She longed to reveal all the things she could do to him. But… it wasn't her style. She was a lady. She was a princess, a princess in distress at the moment, but a princess nonetheless. And she would act like one no matter what.

No wonder she'd been nervous and paranoid all these years. No wonder she'd worried every single day of her life. She'd been a doll to him and everybody else, and they were all nothing but pigs in shit, just like her mother, who'd left her so many times, and Davey, who'd exploited her for his own gain, and her grandmother, who'd sent her away and hadn't let her come back for six long years. But by then she was almost dead, too old to help her at all. And then that adviser in her senior class in high school, who left his wife for her but turned out to have no money at all, so she had to come to New York to be with Granny instead. And stupid, stupid Jerry, who wouldn't set his sights high enough.

Mona hated Parker Higgins so much, she smiled at him kindly. She would kill him slowly. His wife would turn off to him. His friends would shun him. He'd lose his business. He wouldn't know what happened. The room blurred, came back in focus. She needed water. Just a sip.

"Mona, are you okay? How about a cup of coffee?"

"No, no. I'll be fine in a minute," she said, not wanting to touch a single thing in this poisonous place or be the slightest bit of a bother.