Linwood Barclay - Parting Shot

Craig laughed. “I’m just having some fun with you. I didn’t do that.”

Beverly looked at him, searched his deformed face, trying to determine the truth.

“Or did I?” he added.

Beverly snatched up the binder and opened the door. Before she slipped out into the hall she said, “I don’t... I think I’ll be assigning your case to someone else. You won’t be seeing me again.”

“You never know,” Craig said. “We might run into each other sometime.”

“I hope we made the right decision,” Gloria Pilford said, glass in hand. She had switched to red wine.

“Is there anything left in the cellar?” Madeline Plimpton asked, perched on a stool at the kitchen island.

“Where’s Bob?” Gloria asked.

“Have you gone deaf?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard all the racket? The power saw and the drilling.”

“Oh,” said Gloria. “That.”

“He got a piece of plywood over where the glass was broken. Can’t leave it wide open until the pane’s replaced.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“And I think he was making some phone calls, too,” Madeline said.

“Do you think we did the right thing? Letting Jeremy go off with a total stranger?”

“Weaver’s a good man,” her aunt said. “I checked him out.”

“I talked to him a little, the two of us. Do you know what happened to his wife and his son?”

Madeline told her how they had both been murdered, several years ago. Gloria was quiet for several seconds, then said, “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Which part?” Madeline asked.

Gloria’s eyes narrowed. “About Grant.”

Madeline sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I remember,” Gloria said.

“You remember what?”

“I remember him from years ago. When he first started practicing. It was here in Promise Falls, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” her aunt said.

“Was that when the affair started? Or was it before you took me in?”

Madeline glowered at her niece. “Before.”

“But then at some point it ended,” Gloria said.

“Grant was married. He wasn’t going to leave his wife and I wasn’t going to leave my husband. I was a widow a year later, but Grant had already moved on by then.”

“So all those years went by and you had nothing going on?”

“That’s right.”

“But then you reconnected. We ended up hiring Grant to defend Jeremy.”

Madeline sighed. “His wife passed away six years ago. We... rekindled something.”

“Is it still going on?’”

“What business would it be of yours one way or another?” Madeline asked.

Gloria shrugged. “You like to know my business. I like to know yours.”

“You’ve had too much to drink, Gloria. I’m turning in.”

Bob walked into the kitchen, sport jacket on, face flushed with what looked like anger. He looked directly at Gloria.

“What?” she said, setting down her glass.

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?” she said.

“It’s my own damn fault,” Bob said, shaking his head. “I should have known better. I’m a goddamn idiot.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gloria said.

Madeline, who had put her departure on hold, looked at Bob. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“The phone,” he said. “ Her phone.”

Madeline put eyes on her niece. “What did you do?”

“I have done nothing ,” Gloria said, raising her chin.

“The phone was in my jacket,” he said. “I took it off and left it on the back of that chair this afternoon. I put it back on later, and I didn’t even think about it until just now.” He patted the left side of his chest. “It was in this pocket, and now it’s gone.”

“Maybe it slipped out when you were fixing the window,” Gloria said.

“You grabbed it back,” he said. “Weaver made a lot of sense when he said we should take it out of your hands. You can’t be trusted not to go on there and say something stupid.”

Gloria took another gulp of wine, then set the glass back down so hard the stem snapped. The glass toppled and spilled red wine across the island.

“For God’s sake,” Madeline said.

“You want to search me?” Gloria said, taking a step into the middle of the room, arms outstretched. “You want to frisk me? Is that what you’d like to do?”

He stood and gawked at her. “Seriously?”

“A strip search? Is that what you want? Why not? Let me oblige.”

She crossed her arms, grabbed hold of the bottom of her pullover sweater with both hands, and pulled up.

“This is ridiculous,” Madeline said.

Gloria’s head was briefly obscured by the sweater, then it was off her body completely, leaving her standing there in a white bra and slacks.

“Gloria, stop it,” Bob said.

She spun around once. “See anything? No? Okay, then.” She kicked off her shoes, unzipped her slacks, and dropped them to the floor.

“It’s probably in her purse,” Madeline said.

Gloria pointed to the handbag sitting on the kitchen table. “Be my guest. Search all you want. Tear my room apart. I do not have that phone.” Her face flushed with anger. “I will not be treated like a child.”

She kicked the pants off and stood there in her underwear. “Would you like to do a body-cavity search, Bob? I bet you’d like that.” She made her hands into fists and positioned them defiantly on her hips.

Bob turned and walked out of the room.

“Go on!” Gloria shouted. “I’ve got an idea! Why don’t you phone me! See if you hear a ringing coming out of my ass!”

Madeline, evidently thinking that was a bluff that deserved to be called, went over to the landline and entered a number.

The room briefly went silent as the two women listened.

There was nothing.

“You probably have it on mute,” Madeline said. “I swear, this family needs a team of therapists.”

This time, she didn’t stop on her way upstairs.

Gloria stood there in the kitchen, alone, in her underwear. After a minute, she found herself a new, unbroken glass, and poured herself another drink.

“Isn’t this a lovely place,” Maureen said as she and Duckworth walked into Knight’s.

“I know that tone,” he said.

“What tone? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Would you like that booth by the arm wrestlers, or maybe next to that couple there who are trying to build a house with the sugar packets?”

“How about over here?” he suggested, locating an empty booth that wasn’t close to anyone who appeared immediately objectionable.

“That looks perfect,” she said. “Only three steps to the bathroom should I need it.”

Within seconds of sitting down across the table from each other, a young woman came over with menus.

“Can I get you folks some drinks?” she asked.

Maureen asked for a glass of Pinot Grigio and Duckworth said some sparkling water with lime would suit him just fine.

“Is Axel here?” he asked.

The girl nodded.

“Could you ask him to drop by when he has a second?”

The girl nodded a second time and disappeared.

Maureen looked at the menu. “You’re going to love this place. I don’t think there’s a single thing here you should be allowed to eat. Oh, wait, celery sticks come with the double-breaded jumbo wings.”

“I know this isn’t exactly the fanciest place in town, but what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Maureen said.

“You’re mad at me for the Trevor thing.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Look, that thing with me and him, he’ll get over it.” His eyes darted around the bar. “It’s because of this place I wanted to talk to our son.”