by Matt Hilton
Maybe, she thought, with a growing sense of discomfort, Sampson’s reason for coming here was for a different reason entirely. Which wasn’t to say the Ambroses were gone, just that the house was lifeless because nobody alive remained inside.
FORTY
Not long ago, Arlen Sampson got out of the saloon car and trudged up the steps, observed by Kelly Ambrose from the front door. The red-haired woman stood with her fists digging into her plump hips, as she scolded him silently. Her scorn would have had more effect if he’d given her any notice. When he met her on the porch, she thrust a palm against his shoulder, forcing him to stop and register her presence. ‘What are you doing here, aren’t you meant to be handling the mess up in Bangor?’
‘I was. Dom’s taken control of it,’ he replied. He began to move past but she interjected in his space, refusing to move.
‘What do you mean? I thought Blake wanted you to take charge.’
‘Blake changed his mind and ruined everything.’
‘He didn’t tell me.’
‘He didn’t tell me either, Kelly. That’s why I’ve come here, to check exactly where I stand with Blake these days.’
‘You know exactly where you stand.’ She folded her arms over her chest, petulant. ‘You do exactly what you’re told. No arguments and no complaints.’
Sampson snorted and brushed past her.
‘Hey!’
Ignoring her, Sampson entered the house and halted in the wide vestibule. He glanced around, checked upward to the head of the stairs, and the suspended landings to either side.
He felt Kelly at his back but refused to look at her. He could hear her heels rapping on the flooring as she shifted, trying to decide what action she should take.
‘Is your housekeeper here?’ he asked.
‘What? Why? What are you up to, Arlen?’
‘We need to talk. You, Blake and I. There’s some tough decisions to make,’ he answered, ‘and they’re not for the ears of anyone else. If she’s here, send Marianne home.’
‘Mrs Perez left hours ago. But that’s beside the point.’ Kelly again got in his face. He could smell her breath and it was unpleasant, tainted by gin and something sour. ‘What gives you the damn right to walk in here and try ordering me around?’
‘How does it feel when the shoe’s on the other foot?’
‘What?’
He turned from her, brushing her question off and began walking towards Blake’s home office. Kelly squawked in anger. She grasped at the sleeve of his jacket. He pulled free.
‘Arlen! Stop right now! You’d best explain yourself before I—’
He snapped around. She was following so close behind that she almost crashed into him. She took an involuntary step backwards, one hand going to her throat. Her cheeks had flushed red in the past few seconds; her eyes looked startled. ‘Before you do what exactly?’ Sampson challenged.
‘You are forgetting your station, Arlen,’ she countered, but there was little conviction in her voice. She’d seen Sampson upset before, and even angry enough to be rebellious, but this time there was something in his demeanor that was frightening.
‘Forgetting my fucking station? Listen to yourself, Kelly. Who the hell do you think you are,’ he threw up a hand, indicating her grand home, ‘the lady of the goddamn manor? I’ve got news for you: you’re a gold-digging slut with delusions of grandeur. It’s about time you realized your fucking station. Now get out of my way … I want to speak with Blake. It’s time he heard a few home truths, too.’
‘Wait … what? What kind of truths? Do you mean—’
‘That when he’s away my usual station is between your legs?’ he asked viciously.
She croaked in dismay, and grabbed at him with her manicured talons. It was a grasp of desperation. ‘Arlen! Please! Keep your voice down.’
Again he snorted and yanked free. He turned again for Blake’s office. Over his shoulder he said, ‘Don’t worry, Kelly. If I have anything to do with it, nobody will ever know how you used me. It’s so shameful it makes me sick to the stomach.’
Abruptly she went from fearful to enraged. She rushed to get past him, clawing at his shoulder to move him aside. In the doorway to the first sitting room Sampson rounded on her, the fingers of his left hand snaring her throat. He shoved her against the doorjamb. Her toes danced above the floor, her heels taking her weight. Sampson thrust his face into hers, bathing her with his hot breath this time. ‘Shut your goddamn mouth and listen to me. For years I’ve done what you commanded; I’ve terrorized and harmed decent people that didn’t deserve it; I’ve been forced to do the most horrible things on your behalf. Well it ends here and it ends now, Kelly. Do you hear me? You constantly demand respect, and that’s the most ironic bit about all of this. Ha! You have no respect for anyone or anything.’ He again indicated the house, and her entire privileged life in particular. ‘This isn’t enough for you, it never will be. You always want more. You always demand more, and you won’t stop. Why the fuck should anyone ever respect you, Kelly? Respect should be a two-way exchange, but you’ve no self-respect and nothing to give back. Neither you nor Blake care about respect, all either of you care about is making demands. Well, I’m here to tell you no. No-fucking-more.’
He released her throat. She sunk at the knees, gagging. She could choke to death for all he cared. He left her there, and moved deeper into the house.
‘Blake?’ He called out loud enough that he should be heard from any room in the house. ‘Blake, where are you? Show yourself.’
Blake said nothing.
Perhaps he’d heard Sampson’s exchange with Kelly, and was still trying to absorb the enormity that his wife had cheated on him, with one of the lowly slaves no less. Sampson would have laughed at the bitter irony if not for the fact he burned with shame at the admission. He stormed into Blake’s office, expecting to find him seated in his customary place. He wasn’t there. Kelly stumbled into the room behind Sampson. He ignored her ragged gasps of anxiety.
‘Where’s Blake?’ he asked.
Kelly shook her head. Obviously she’d expected her husband to be seated at his desk. There were two tumblers of gin and tonic sitting on the desk, each of them only half drank. That was where she’d probably left him when first she’d heard Sampson’s arrival and gone outside to investigate. She abruptly spun on her heels and rushed out of the room, calling her husband’s name.
Sampson followed.
As he arrived in the grandiose hallway, he found Kelly running up the stairs, clawing at the bannister for stability. Sampson took the stairs three at a time and caught her on the landing nearest her bedroom.
He doubted she expected to find Blake there, but from his experience of her boudoir, Sampson knew that was where Blake kept his gun in a safe-box. He caught her by her hair, fisting a bunch of it and dragged her to the floor. ‘Let’s not do anything stupid,’ he warned her, ‘yet.’
Kelly shrieked at the top of her lungs.
Blake appeared from concealment below. He must have secreted himself in one of the other first-floor rooms, while he eavesdropped and plotted the right moment to show his face. He appeared less concerned at his wife’s rough treatment than Sampson expected, but then again, perhaps not after what he’d heard. Sampson hauled her up, and shoved her so she faced Blake over the railing.
‘Blake?’ Kelly bleated. ‘Help me!’
Blake ignored her plaintive cries. He directed his words at Sampson, smiling. ‘You seem a bit annoyed about something, Arlen. Why don’t you come down here and tell me all about it.’
‘Where were you just now?’
‘I was making a telephone call,’ said Blake.
The man was feeble, sickly, but he hid his condition well behind the same sanctimonious mask he often wore during business dealings. Sampson knew it was a facade, that Blake’s reset demeanor was sour and grumpy.
‘I guess it wasn’t to nine-one-one.’
‘You know me better than that,’ Blake said, and sno
rted a brief laugh. ‘No of course not, Arlen, I was calling an associate of mine. He’ll be here shortly … you should leave.’
Sampson wasn’t concerned. He understood what Blake implied; this associate was one of those professionals he occasionally needed the services of. It was supposed to throw fear into Sampson’s heart … it didn’t. Blake had not had time to call for help from anyone, let alone to request a professional killer whose services would be routed via several middlemen.
‘Nice bluff, but it’s bullshit.’ Sampson propelled Kelly towards the stairs. ‘Get down there.’
She went down tentatively, as afraid of Blake as she was Sampson. Blake barely looked at her; his attention was fully on Sampson as they descended. Kelly didn’t go to him, but around him, and for the briefest moment Blake’s gaze shifted to her. She dropped her face and refused to meet his scrutiny.
‘You’re right, of course,’ Blake admitted as Sampson reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘I wasn’t calling for help; I don’t believe I need it. You’re upset and acting out of character, I can see that, and can even understand it. But here’s the thing, Arlen; it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the situation between us one bit. I still own you, unless of course you’re prepared for the truth to come out. How will Caroline react once she learns you were screwing her sister, then strangled her to death when she wanted to come clean?’
‘It will devastate her,’ Sampson admitted. ‘But that’s what makes her a good, decent human being. Everything that you and your slut of a wife aren’t.’
‘Kelly’s a slut? Oh, you’re referring to that thing you thought you had going on behind my back? Arlen, I didn’t take you for stupid, please extend the same level of intelligence to me. What? You thought I was unaware of Kelly’s infidelities? And yes, I’m talking plural. I was fully aware she was sleeping with you, and with Dom for that matter. Why wouldn’t I when it was with my blessing, and at my instigation? Look at me, Arlen. I’m not the virile young man I once was, and I’m the first to admit it. Sex does not appeal to me any longer, but my wife is young, with a young sexual woman’s needs … have I denied her anything else she has ever demanded?’
Sampson said nothing.
Kelly though made a small noise of surprise, and then triumph flared in her eyes. Blake’s admission was an unexpected ‘get out of jail free’ card, and she hoped to capitalize on it. She placed her hands on his shoulder, leaning close to him. ‘Blake, I would never have—’
He snapped up a palm, and she stumbled back. ‘Quiet. Don’t say another word.’
She scowled now, and Sampson smiled slowly. It hadn’t occurred that Kelly was as much a slave to her husband as they’d made everyone else in their employment. Unlike all the others, though, he couldn’t feel any sympathy for her. Not when she was complicit with her husband and probably a keen instigator of his vileness.
Raising his eyebrows, Blake demanded a further answer to his previous question.
‘Caroline will never learn what happened with her sister.’ Sampson stared at Blake, challenging him.
‘That’s for me to decide, not you.’
Shaking his head, Sampson said, ‘I’ve been an idiot. All this time I’ve lived in fear of you turning me in, when all along you couldn’t. How could you, Blake, when it’d also implicate you? You helped me cover up my part in Mary’s death, and you gave me an alibi. If the truth ever comes out, you are guaranteeing your own imprisonment.’
‘That’d be the case if ever you’d used my alibi. There’s only Caroline who believes you were away on a business trip with me when Mary died, the authorities never called you on it, did they?’
The police had never investigated Sampson. It was easier for them to conclude that Mary was the victim of a murderous drifter.
‘I don’t need to tell the police about you and Mary, I only need to tell your wife. I’ll retract your alibi,’ Blake said smugly, ‘after all, she only heard it from you, right? She never heard it from me, Arlen. I wonder how Caroline will react. Do you think she will keep your secret then, or want justice for her dead sister?’
‘If I go down I’ll take you both with me. If I’m arrested, I’ll come clean about everything you’ve had me do for you.’
‘My legal team will rip your testimony to pieces, and show you for a desperate liar trying to divert your own guilt.’ Blake snorted, and Sampson could tell Blake actually believed it.
‘That might’ve been the case before, but not now. You’ve just had a private investigator tortured by Dom, possibly murdered. There isn’t a legal team in the world that’ll save your ass from prison.’
‘I’ll disown Dom. He’s known to be a violent irrational man. His actions are his own. Who is to say otherwise?’
‘The investigator’s partner.’
‘Well, if my instructions have been carried out, and she has fallen into the trap, she won’t be an issue.’
Sampson again said nothing, and sudden understanding struck Blake. For the first time his sanctimonious mask slipped. ‘You were supposed to lure her to Rockland, and have her disposed of too.’
‘Yeah well, your instructions got a little confused when you put Dom in charge.’
Blake shifted uneasily. His eyes darted to Kelly, and she too was turning pale and sickly looking.
‘What did you do, Arlen?’ Blake asked.
‘That’s the thing, Blake; once Dom took over I didn’t do a damn thing.’
Blake swore, and it gave Sampson great satisfaction.
‘Actually,’ he went on, ‘that isn’t entirely true. Once Tess Grey knew where to find Villere, I got out of there and might have left the door unlocked on my way out.’
‘You did what?’ Blake suddenly cast about in a mild panic. He shot an instruction at Kelly. ‘Call Dom. I want to know exactly what is going on up in Rockland.’
Sampson didn’t stop her from taking out her cellphone. She rang Dom’s number, listened, growing more concerned by every ring that went unanswered.
‘Try Temperance instead,’ snapped Blake.
‘You’re wasting your time,’ Sampson said. ‘By now it’s over with. Whatever has happened, it’s not good. You may as well face it, Blake. You and Kelly are finished. There’s nothing now you can say that will force me into obeying you again.’
Blake threw up his hands. ‘You son of a bitch,’ he snarled. ‘How does betraying us help you? If we’re arrested, I swear to god I’ll tell everyone about you and Mary.’ He pointed a trembling finger. ‘You’ll pay for everything you’ve done, Arlen.’
‘I don’t expect to escape justice. What goes around comes around, Blake, and I knew that one day my sins would catch up with me.’ He nodded at his own resolution. ‘I’m going to pay for my crimes, sure, and so are you two, but that isn’t to say Caroline has to suffer for them.’
From behind his back he drew his pistol.
‘See, the thing is, the only ones apart from me that know what happened to Mary is you,’ said Sampson, ‘and once I’m done here, you won’t be around to tell anyone.’
Almost as if heralding their doom, the power went out and the house fell into gloomy twilight. Twin flashes from Sampson’s pistol lit up the faces of Blake and Kelly, and it brought him some satisfaction that their final expressions were of abject defeat.
FORTY-ONE
Tess approached the Ambrose house warily, Pinky’s gun in hand, but kept low. She was prepared for conflict but hoped to avoid it if possible.
All around her branches rattled and knocked, the wind dirged and the swollen river raged towards the sea. The house itself was too quiet. It had the feel of a mausoleum about it, at odds with everything else.
The stormy weather was having an effect, even if the latest squall hadn’t hit yet. High winds must’ve taken down the power lines because there wasn’t a hint of light inside the house, or in the neighboring dwellings that she could glimpse across the river.
She went up the steps, rapped on the door and then moved aside. She raised
her weapon alongside her shoulder.
‘Arlen Sampson,’ she called loudly.
Sampson didn’t answer.
Tess checked on her companions.
Po had gotten out of the Volvo despite her request for him to stay put, and he’d moved adjacent to her so that he could check the saloon car. It was probably a good idea. Who knew if Sampson was inside and would pop up from hiding once they got past the car? After surviving the battle at the collapsing restaurant it’d be a bad show if they were now cut down in an ambush. Pinky had also left the car, but was at a loss where to go. He stood at the car’s hood, hands by his sides so he didn’t represent a threat, but ready to hurl himself up the steps at Sampson if the situation degenerated into violence.
‘Blake Ambrose?’ Tess again rapped on the door. ‘Kelly?’
Po limped to the foot of the steps.
Tess shook her head at him, but he ascended them anyway.
‘I don’t like this,’ she whispered.
The cuts on Po’s face and his bloody shoulder were a reminder that none of these people were to be underestimated.
‘Maybe we should wait till the cops get here,’ she went on.