Just for the record, I argued against that stupid idea. I told him the proposal would be worthless if Annie had a heart attack (irony alert), but Justin was adamant.
For the first time since that day, I’m squarely honest with myself about the small quiver of loss I felt when Annie said “yes” to Justin. I buried it then. Of course I did. They were the two people I loved best in the world. Why would I ever do anything to fuck that up?
If I knew then…
People blather on about the benefits of hindsight, how lessons learned inform the future, why we need to pick ourselves up and learn from our mistakes. Fuck that shit.
I thought Justin was one of the great miracles of my life, but he was a curse. I’m glad he’s dead. But what has he left for me in this life? Convincer’s going down, my foreseeable future is all lawyers and the media circus.
I sip my tangy drink, I sway out over the railing, leaning as far as I dare, tempting gravity.
“You okay there?” A tall, skinny dude in a porkpie hat grips my arm, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.
“I’ll never make it right with my father,” I tell this kind stranger. “He’ll never get his chance for a fatherhood do-over. And my twin half-sisters? They’re just little kids. They’ll grow up without any father at all. I even feel bad for Brandy! Even if she is kind of a slut.”
“Right,” Porkpie says uncertainly. “Are you here with anyone? Maybe you should call an Uber.”
“Fuck you, Justin Childs.”
Wow. That felt great. I say it again, this time with loud and conscious conviction: “Fuck you, Justin Childs.” I drain my glass and smash it on the ground.
The surrounding strangers glance over at me in surprise. Some alarm. I ignore them.
Pulling away from Porkpie, I spring up onto the railing that rims the western edge of the roof and crouch there, clinging to the spiky metal, peering down. No inflatable slide this time.
Gasps fill the air. I sense, rather than see, people pulling out their cellphones and filming me.
Porkpie pulls me back onto the roof almost instantly. We tumble backward and land hard as the crowd around us scatters and shrieks.
“I’ve got you,” Porkpie murmurs in my ear.
“Enough!” I exclaim, pulling away from him. “You should have let me die! I admit it, I killed him! He was fucking me over in every possible way and I killed him!”
“Whoa!” Porkpie raises his palms in supplication. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m confessing to murder. The murder of Justin Childs. He deserved it, the motherfucker, and I’m not sorry.” A sea of cellphones surrounds me, recording my every word.
Porkpie backs away from me. “Okay, man, not really my problem. I just came for the view. Stay safe, okay?” He backs away and disappears from my sight.
Whispers ricochet through the crowd. I hear snippets: Can you freaking believe that? I wonder what TMZ’ll pay for the video? That gorgeous guy who crashed his car, that’s who. Did somebody call the police?
I stay where I am, sitting cross-legged on the sticky floor, until I’m arrested again.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CAROL
When Annie invited me for dinner, just the two of us, I was elated.
Will’s still maintaining that Justin was responsible for the Ponzi scheme that is Convincer and for killing Hayley Hayter, but why should any of us believe an admitted murderer? I’m practically giddy about the closure finally being granted to Annie and me.
I’ve taken even more care than usual getting dressed today. The lilac cashmere I’m wearing complements my coloring and I’ve coordinated my jewelry carefully, an amethyst necklace around my neck and matching earrings on my lobes.
Annie suggested the elegant restaurant in the courtyard of the Hammer Museum, walking distance from my apartment. It’s a lovely spot, with expensive food as artistic as the works the museum houses. It’s a splurge on my budget, but it’s a special occasion I hope, the beginning of new era for me and Annie.
I arrive fifteen minutes early so I can slip my credit card to the waiter. I don’t want any awkward fumbling for the check. This will be my treat.
To my surprise, Annie is already there, seated at a table, sipping an iced tea. She waves and rises when she sees me.
“Hi, Carol,” she greets me. “You look wonderful! That’s such a good color on you.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re looking well yourself.” Annie does look well. A healthy flush back in her cheeks, her hair carefully groomed. She’s wearing a bold red lipstick that makes her mouth pop.
“You’re early,” I say, taking my seat.
Annie waves her hand airily. “I left when I was dressed and ready. Weird to have no schedule.” She giggles nervously and it occurs to me that maybe she isn’t drinking iced tea, after all. “Anyway, here we are. What would you like to drink?” she asks me as our waiter materializes.
“What are you having?”
“Iced tea. And I’ll have another, thanks.” She slurps at her eco-friendly metal straw until the glass is empty but for melting ice cubes. Her behavior makes me suspect she really arrived early to make some private arrangement with the waiter—iced tea being code for something less benign.
“The same,” I order, a little touched by her anxiety. This is as important to her as it is to me.
We take care of the rituals. Unfold our napkins and put them on our laps. Decide what to order. Debate the chocolate soufflé special that requires ordering in advance of the meal. Impulsively, I agree to it, with extra whipped cream on the side. It’s a celebration, after all.
As we eat, we tentatively wade into the news of Will’s confession. We’re just finishing our entrée and I’m treading carefully into the question of his culpability in Convincer’s collapse, when Annie lays a gentle hand over mine.
“I have a question for you,” Annie says. “And I need you to be honest with your answer. Because I really want us to have a relationship.”
“Of course, honey,” I assure her. My heart swells.
“Did you tip the police off about Will?”
“Will confessed.”
“I know. I saw the video along with half of America. But that doesn’t answer my question. Did you have evidence implicating Will in Justin’s death that you took to the police?”
I sip at my champagne, uncertain how to answer. Will’s confession is the thing that will cinch his conviction. Whether I shared anything else with the police hardly seems relevant.
Annie slumps back in her seat. Lifts her hand away from mine. I feel its absence like a cold shadow. She frowns.
“I’m sorry, Carol. But Will’s lawyer, well, she says you did. That you forwarded an email Justin sent you. It’s in evidence. You may think you’re sparing me, because you know I care about Will, but I want to put Justin’s killer behind bars as much as you, maybe more…” Annie’s eyes leak tears. She blows her nose into her napkin before continuing.
“It’ll all come out at Will’s trial anyway. But more important, if you and I are to be a family, we need total honesty between us. I’ve had enough lies! I need the truth from here on out. I can’t do this any other way.”
“Do what?” With the pads of my fingertips I smooth the furrow that’s formed in my forehead. Don’t want to get wrinkles.
Annie lays her palm across her stomach. Takes a deep breath. “I’m pregnant, Carol. You’re going to be a grandmother.”
My heart stops. The room spins, then carousels to a halt. I’m on my feet. Annie’s on hers. We’re hugging. I’m crying. A baby.
The waiter arrives with our soufflé. I order two glasses of champagne. Annie protests. I tell her she’ll just have a sip.
“Oh my god,” I babble as we take our seats. “When are you due? How do you feel? Who’s your
obstetrician?”
Annie laughs. “First answer my question, Carol. This child I’m carrying? He, or she, has the right to know everything about how Justin died and about how his killer was brought to justice.”
I sip at my champagne. Look at Annie’s flat belly and imagine the child growing within her. Justin’s child. My second chance.
Annie continues, a solemn look on her face. “This baby will allow Justin to live on for both of us. It’s a miracle really. Like a divine intervention that brought him back to us.”
It’s as if she’s saying the very things I’m thinking! A sense of true happiness settles over me, rare and pure.
“And this baby will be special, just like Justin was special. Just like you are, Carol. I’m sorry if I haven’t told you that enough.”
“You’re right,” I admit. “Yes. I gave the police an email Justin sent to me.”
I clear my throat and gather strength as I continue. “When I got it, he was already dead! I thought it was some sick prank, and I was just going to trash it. But some instinct told me to hang on to it. So I did. Did you know you can schedule an email to be sent anytime you want? I feel a little silly that I hadn’t known that, actually. Remember how Justin used to tease me about how the simplest tech confounded me?”
“Of course. His soliloquy on your love/hate relationship with your universal remote? A classic.”
We share a warm smile.
I finish my champagne and start on Annie’s. “Before he died, Justin was worried. He said some things to me alluding to wrongdoing on Will’s part, but he was always vague. When I asked questions, he shut me out, said it would be better if I didn’t know the details.”
Annie nods. “He always was so protective of you. It was one of the first things I liked about him.”
I pat her hand, grateful for the comment. “Then I got that email.”
“What did it say exactly?” Annie presses.
“That Justin was scared. That he’d confronted Will and it hadn’t gone well. He wanted to give Will a chance to fix things, but, well, Will got violent. Justin was planning on going to the police. He wanted me to know in case something happened to him.”
“Oh my god! You poor thing. What a shock that must have been.”
We sit in silence for a moment. The waiter approaches and we both wave him away before I continue. “He also told me that he loved me. And you, Annie. If anything happened to him, he wanted us both to know that.”
I drain the last of the celebratory champagne. Annie sips at her iced tea.
“You want to watch the iced tea,” I say kindly. “Too much caffeine isn’t good for the baby.”
“But you wrote that email, right, Carol?” Annie’s tone is mild, her eyes wide and innocent.
“What? No. Of course not.”
Annie leans in so our faces are mere inches apart. “Just like you wrote the one to Molly accusing Will of sleeping with me and embezzling from the company.”
A hot flush sweeps through me. Sweat drips between my breasts, down the back of my neck. I press a cool champagne glass to my forehead. “Hot flash,” I say, with the most casual laugh I can muster. “Just awful.”
“Is that what it is?” Annie continues sweetly. “Or is it something else? Guilty conscience, maybe?”
“Why are you doing this? Will confessed.”
Annie shrugs, an eloquent expression of sadness. “I know. I’m shocked. Heartbroken. Sick of being lied to! That’s why I need complete honesty between us if you want to be in the baby’s life.”
Of course I want to be in the baby’s life. I scoop up the last of the whipped cream and swallow it down.
“I think I understand, Carol. I really do. You suspected Will when Justin died. When you learned about the embezzlement and Hayley, you wanted to be certain Will was convicted.”
I lay down my spoon. “Like I said, Justin had already alluded to trouble at Convincer and also to some questionable behavior on Will’s part. Something about signing Justin’s name to a check. Credit cards he hadn’t known about. Anyway, that was the gist of it. Then Justin ended up in a ditch.” My next words are pure acid. “So yes, I sent those emails. I only repeated what Justin had told me! Will Barber should pay for destroying Justin’s life.”
“Oh, I think Justin destroyed his own life.”
“He didn’t! He was a victim!”
“I wish I could see it that way, Carol, I really do. But he screwed me financially too, you know, me and the baby. I don’t own our house! I could be homeless!”
“Never. You’ll always have a place with me. Always!”
“Thank you,” Annie says, dabbing at her eyes. “I appreciate that. But you see that makes it even more imperative. We must have total honesty between us if we are going to raise the baby together.”
Annie reaches for my hand and places it on her stomach. I know it’s impossible this early on, but I swear I feel the flutter of new life.
“Look, Carol,” she says in a voice like silk. “I know now what Justin was. It’s okay. I love him anyway. Just the way you and I will love his child. Unconditional, right? Isn’t that what parental love is all about?”
“You’re right,” I agree fervently. “You’ll see when the baby comes, everything shifts, you’ll do anything for your child.”
“Tell me what you did for Justin.”
“I told you. I sent those emails.”
“That’s not all though, right? It’s just you and me and little Sparky here—that’s what I’m calling the fetus—just the family. Tell me. No judgment.”
I look into Annie’s clear eyes. She’s smiling, nodding, welcoming.
“Justin wasn’t like other people.” I pause.
“I knew that much the first time I met him. Go on.”
“He was brilliant! Spectacular. You know.” I drop my voice down a notch. “But he made mistakes.”
“We all do,” Annie chimes in encouragingly.
“But Hayley. He…he came to see me. Told me that she’d caught Will stealing something from MediFutur and was going to the police. That they’d argued; Justin wanted to talk to Will first and give him a chance to clear his name.”
“And then what happened?”
“Promise me, you’ll never say a word. This is our secret. To the grave.”
“To the grave,” Annie repeats.
“It was an accident! Hayley and Justin were fighting and she fell and cracked her head on the coffee table. Then he panicked. And it was all Will’s fault, really!” There’s a relief in saying the words, but also a deep sense of unreality. These harsh truths seem out of place in this genteel setting, outrageous when heard out loud.
“Thank you, Carol.”
The waiter brings the check. Annie asks for some water.
“Good girl,” I compliment her. “It’s very important to hydrate.”
“There’s just one last thing,” Annie says, leaning her elbows on the table. “Why did Justin die?”
“You know why he died. He was in a car accident.”
“Right. But is it just a coincidence that there are so many car accidents in our family? Your husband died in one. It’s how I met Justin. And it’s how we lost him.” Annie’s eyes bore into mine. “Like I said, no judgment. We’re just building a bridge of trust.”
I imagine Annie and my grandchild livening up my rectangular box of an apartment. I pull out my compact and freshen my lipstick. The tissue-paper-thin folds along my upper lip remind me of my inevitable ruin. But Justin, my beautiful son, he’ll remain preserved forever. Young, handsome, perfect. And his child will grow up in my home.
“He’d killed someone, you understand,” I murmur.
Annie nods, compassion in her eyes. I feel almost hypnotized, compelled to tell her.
“And even with an accidental de
ath, he’d probably go to jail, he’d have been branded. His life would have been in ruins.” I stop.
“My life too,” Annie adds. “I thought it was actually. Until the doctor told me at the hospital. This baby is giving me new hope. For the family we’ll make.”
“I fed Justin the Valium without him knowing.” There. I’ve said it.
Annie gasps. Jerks away from me. I grip her forearm to pull her back close. I know when I explain it all, she’ll understand.
“You were the one who wanted complete honesty! And you’ll understand, now that you’re going to be a mother! The world couldn’t know Justin as a killer! My sweet, lovely boy. It was better that he die with his reputation unblemished than live with that.”
Annie crosses her arms over her chest. I realize she’s shaking uncontrollably. “Are you all right?” I ask, alarmed. “What’s happening? Is the baby okay?”
“You killed him. Your own son.”
“I saved him. You have to look at it that way. It’s the same reason I framed Will. To protect Justin! And it was all Will’s fault really! He was an embezzler. Justin, my poor boy, was only trying to protect him. It’s poetic justice that Will confessed. He knows in his heart that he’s responsible. Surely you understand.”
“No, I don’t.” Annie rises. “Thank god I don’t. And I never will.”
I’m desperate for her to stay. I grab her wrist and grip it tightly. “He’d killed someone! And I saw it in his eyes! He’d gotten a taste for it. How long could I protect his reputation? I knew he would kill again! I had to stop him in order to save him.”
“And you, Carol?” Annie’s eyes blaze into mine. “Have you gotten a taste for it?”
She wrenches her arm from my grip and turns to the diners at the table next to us. “Did you get all that?” she asks. “Fucking monster,” she mutters at me before spinning away.
I call after her, but suddenly my arms are pinned.
I’m arrested, my rights read. “It’ll be Justin’s baby. You can’t escape that!” I shout. “You’ll look at that child every day and wonder if he’ll have a taste for it too! Then you’ll see! Then you’ll understand what a mother will do for her child!”
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