Nope, no way. Histrionics would be reserved for later. Maybe over several bottles of wine at Regina’s house tonight. Although she didn’t know about what happened yet, or my intention of staying with her for a few days until Jack could move his stuff out of the house, it didn’t matter. Once I told her, I knew she would be there for me, just as I was for her three years ago when her marriage ended. For the very same reason. The sympathy I had for her when she walked that valley now morphed over to empathy.
I dabbed my bleeding finger with toilet paper, then opened the door and went to the sink. The cold water felt so good that I grabbed a few towels and wet them, pressing them around my burning neck.
Buck up, Melody. You can’t walk in and start demanding your way while blubbering about this like some silly teenager. It happened, now you need to take care of yourself. You need this job if you end up going through with a divorce. Be firm but calm. Breathe.
Finger bandaged and composure back, I grabbed my purse and held my head high as I walked out into the hallway. I nodded my head to several coworkers as I passed by and sensed their stares bearing into my back. The hallway seemed to be two miles long. My heart skipped three beats when I knocked on Roger’s door.
“Come.”
This is it, Melody. Stay strong. Focus.
My mind may have been ready for this, but my body wasn’t. My hand shook as I opened the door and walked in, my palms wet with sweat. “Good morning again, sir. May I?” I said, nodding my head at the chair in front of his desk.
“Of course. Coffee?” He rose from behind his oak desk and walked over to his credenza. One of his favorite material possessions was his single-cup coffee maker. He drank enough coffee throughout the day to keep a dozen people awake for days. When he bought the machine two years ago I had been thrilled, since it kept me from making numerous trips to and from the kitchen to bring him refills.
I eased into the leather chair, grateful for the coolness against my damp shirt. Once settled, I answered, “No, thank you. My nerves are already on edge today, sir.”
“Yes, the entire office is suffering from that malady today, I believe.”
Heat spread up my neck. This isn’t going to be easy. God, where do I begin? I waited until he walked back to his desk and sat down. “Mr. Stanek, I know this is, well, an extremely difficult topic to broach…” I stuttered.
He interrupted, his voice firm yet quiet. “Melody, there is no need for stuffy office protocol, especially not today. You’ve been here over what, ten years?”
“Yes sir. August fifteenth will be eleven,” I agreed, unsure what he meant. Was he going to fire me for this? That really would send this day to the top of the Worst Day Ever pile.
“Eleven years and countless requests to call me Roger, and yet you still hold on to old southern traditions long since passed. Though appreciated, I believe that it’s time to move on to just Roger.”
My nerves settled a bit and my hackles recessed. Roger Stanek may have been one of the best damn criminal defense attorneys in all of Central Arkansas, a proverbial shark in the courtroom, but it was all a carefully acted persona. I knew within the first year of working for him that underneath all the bravado and pompous attitude beat the heart of a kind man.
“Thank you, sir…um, Roger. Okay, well since you brought it up, I believe that in the almost eleven years I have been employed here, I don’t think I would be overstepping my bounds by saying that you have considered me a valuable employee, correct?”
Roger’s dark brown eyes didn’t flinch but I saw a fleeting, questioning look behind them. “Invaluable. You aren’t just an employee, Melody. You’re the firm’s right hand. My right hand. You know how much I rely upon you to keep the ship sailing straight, so to speak.”
Confidence growing, I let a small smile appear. “Thank you. I hope you keep that perception of me at the forefront of your mind when I tell you why I am late this morning—and then ask you for a really big favor. Huge, in fact, but one duly justified, I believe.”
It took all my strength to keep my eyes focused on his. The quizzical look on his face surprised me. Surely he knew what I was about to ask? He leaned back in his seat and began chewing on the inside of his cheek, a habit I didn’t think he was aware he had when his internal wheels were rolling a dilemma around.
“What exactly is on your mind, Melody?”
Here goes nothing.
I cleared my throat and forced my hands to remain in my lap. Gaze steady, I began, “There is no delicate way to broach the subject, so I’ll just be blunt and try not to delve too deeply into the sordid details. Bottom line is that I need to request three things from you.”
Roger nodded for me to continue, the gnawing of his cheek increasing in intensity.
“One was to know that I am a valuable, long term employee, which you graciously already confirmed. Two, since we don’t handle domestic relation cases here, your recommendation for the best divorce attorney around, and three, that you fire Serena Rowland.”
There, I said it. It may have been ugly, but it was short, sweet and oh so to the point.
I was expecting all sorts of responses, but not the one that Roger gave. His face paled, the look of astonishment almost comical if we had been discussing any subject besides the demise of my marriage. He struggled to formulate a reply. His poor cheek was probably bleeding at this point. I’d never seen him like this before. Had I overstepped the bounds of employee-employer relationships with this request?
Oh, God, please don’t let him fire me!
Roger rose from the chair and walked around the desk, then leaned against it. The look, his demeanor, the air about him—it was all wrong. He didn’t seem angry, upset or irritated by my requests. Although it made no sense at all, the feeling I sensed from him was deep sadness.
“Melody, before I ask you anything else, kindly expound on your reasons as to why you want me to fire Serena.”
Flat. No emotion. Just a plain and simple question delivered in a quiet monotone.
Something isn’t right here. I thought he already knew! Why is he acting like I just told him I’m really a man or something? And if he already knows, why in the Hell does he want the details?
Heart pounding, I swallowed my fear and let my anger loose. “Well, to be quite honest, Roger, I don’t think I can work alongside the woman who has been having an affair with my husband. And I don’t understand this. I assumed from our earlier conversation you already knew? That the entire office knew? Isn’t that why everyone is acting so, well, odd?”
I didn’t think it was possible for Roger’s face to become any paler. I was wrong. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. He let out a heavy sigh, moved to the chair next to me and sat down.
“Melody, when and how did you find out?” he asked, his voice low, his worried eyes never leaving my own. My heart began pounding faster, my mind racing to sort this out. Why did he care about the particulars? I mean, he would either fire Serena or not. My anger was reaching a boiling point. If he wasn’t going to stand by me, he needed to just say so.
“I don’t see where that has any relevance, but this morning, as we were getting ready for work.”
“Did he tell you about the affair?”
“What man tells his wife he’s been cheating on her without prompting? Of course not,” I said, aggravated. I stood and began pacing around Roger’s office. My frustration couldn’t be contained in a seat any longer. “Actually, my dog found the evidence that I confronted him with. He couldn’t deny the truth when I shoved this in his face, along with revealing texts and pictures.” I pulled the wadded up receipt out of my pocket and handed it to Roger. His eyes widened.
“Melody, you need to sit down. Now, please.”
Anger dangerously close to spewing out, I stood firm and growled, “I can’t, Roger. I am about to blow my top. The only thing that will calm me down at the moment is to hear from you that I have your support in this. I can’t, no I wo
n’t, work with her. I realize I am asking a lot, since her father—”
“Please, Melody. I understand you are upset but take my advice and sit down,” Roger insisted, his tone that of someone speaking to a small child. “Please?”
“Fine,” I shot back.
“Oh, God…you don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“You obviously haven’t listened or read any news coverage in the last two days, have you?”
What difference could that possibly make?
“No. I was at the lake all weekend at a spa with a girlfriend. Got back home late last night. Then, I was occupied with other, more pressing issues than watching the news. Why?”
Roger swallowed hard a few times and cleared his throat. His eyes were full of pain when he said, “Melody, I can’t fire Serena because, well, she’s dead.”
I understood now why Roger had insisted I sit down. Had I been standing up, my legs would have buckled and I would have collapsed in the middle of his floor. I felt dizzy, lightheaded. A wave of nausea caused my mouth to fill with hot saliva, and I forced myself to swallow without gagging. Good, she deserved it, I thought, but then was overcome with shame and guilt for thinking such a thing. Yes, I was hurt, angry and furious. I’d had visions on my way to work of slapping the fire out of Serena, which, of course, I would never in fact do. But death? No way. I couldn’t even stand to squish a bug under my shoe, much less think about hurting someone. I would never wish death on anyone, not even my husband’s mistress.
Truth be told, it wasn’t really Serena I was angry at, well, at least not all of my rage was directed her way. After all, it wasn’t like we were friends or anything. We were just co-workers—strangers thrown together eight hours a day with no bonds of friendship attached. I was just another over the hill office-mate to her. My connection to her was that of a supervisor who often pointed out her mistakes. We didn’t hang out together after work. We didn’t share any common ground—well, except for Jack. We had never gone to lunch together or shared personal stories with each other in the break room. There was no commonality between the two of us. Hell, she was almost young enough to be my daughter.
It dawned on me then that her death was the reason the office was acting funny. Heat raced up my chest to my cheeks again. How could I have been so stupid as to conclude that the entire firm knew about Jack and Serena’s affair? No wonder Sarah had been on the verge of tears earlier. And poor Roger! He had probably wanted to discuss what implications Serena’s death would have on the firm. Her father, Philip Rowland, was our only client on retainer and one of the wealthiest men in Arkansas. Roger’s bread and butter, so to speak. Roger probably called me into his office to talk about making arrangements for flowers, maybe sending some food to the Rowland residence. Maybe he was worried Serena’s death would cause Mr. Rowland to seek legal counsel elsewhere, since visiting our office would just be another reminder that his daughter was gone. No wonder he looked so shocked and perplexed when I demanded he fire her. He was thinking I was the world’s most callous person!
Serena had driven her brand new, sleek black Corvette like she was an Indy car driver. Just last week, she had been ticketed for going eighty-five in a sixty miles-per-hour zone. I only knew that because I had overheard her whining to Roger, begging him to make it go away so she didn’t lose her license again. The jealous monster reared its ugly head as a fleeting thought of Jack riding shotgun with her made me cringe. If she died in an accident, I thanked God that Jack hadn’t been with her in the car. Dealing with his infidelity was difficult enough. The thought of burying him made my head spin.
“Roger…I don’t know what to say. I’m…oh, God, I’m so sorry. Honestly, I didn’t know she’d passed. And here I was, blabbering like a fool about her and Jack. What happened to her? Car accident?”
Roger wasn’t looking at me. His focus was on the receipt from The Duchess still clutched in his hand. His throat muscles clenched, his jaw set in stone. Worry furrowed his brow; I’d seen it numerous times before over the years when he was working on a rather difficult case. The room was silent except for the distant sounds of the phones ringing on the other side of his closed door and the pounding of my heart. I waited for his response, the tension in the room rising exponentially. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood up, driven by some strange instinct. The fear instinct, brought on by a heavy rush of adrenaline.
Why won’t he look at me?
“No, Melody. It wasn’t a car accident. Serena was…murdered.”
“What? When, how…oh, my God!”
My body went limp in the chair, as if all my bones had disappeared. Roger’s eyes pulled away from the receipt and looked at me. I read behind them and the room began to spin.
“Someone beat her, then strangled her with a pair of underwear. Her body was discovered late Saturday night. I’m sorry to be the one telling you this. I just…well I assumed you heard already. But this…this changes everything.”
My heart was beating so fast that I could barely breathe. Roger continued to talk, but his voice seemed muffled, his words distant and indiscernible to my ringing ears. My brain tried to comprehend all the information it had been overloaded with during the last three hours.
Jack and Serena. The hotel receipt. Pink silk underwear. The picture sent to Jack in a text. His tear-filled admission earlier to his transgressions, his voice cracking as he begged me to stay and talk things through. Crying as he spouted how much he loved me while whimpering for forgiveness, promising me he wouldn’t see her again. The look on Roger’s face while he stared at the flimsy piece of paper in his hand.
No. Please God. No. It can’t be.
“Where?” I eked out.
“Are you asking me where Serena was found?” Roger clarified, his voice audible now. I nodded, the tears already spilling down my cheeks. My gut had given me the answer—one I surely didn’t want to hear. I knew Roger’s response would be no different.
Roger reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, his touch soft. “She was found in her hotel room at The Duchess, Melody. Room—”
His hand fell away as I jumped out of my seat, my bones back and legs on autopilot. “No! No! No! Don’t say anything more! This can’t…be…happening,” I yelled, my voice breaking as I tried to control my tears. “Jack…wouldn’t…he couldn’t…”
Roger stood up to follow me but paused in mid-stride when his desk phone buzzed. He reached across the table and snatched it up. “Sarah, I told you to hold all calls…what? Already? Okay, just tell them to have a seat and I’ll be out in a few. Is Overton in yet? Good, good. Yes, please tell him to keep them occupied until I come out. Thank you.” He replaced the phone and walked over to where I stood by the window.
I heard him come up behind me but couldn’t bear to turn around and face him. If I just closed my eyes and kept them shut, I would wake up from this nightmare. The living hell that I was trapped in—it would go away if I willed myself awake.
“Melody, the police are here to begin questioning the employees about Serena and gather evidence from her workspace. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about earlier—the fact that they were coming and to ask for your help to coordinate the employee interviews. I had no idea about Jack. You do realize, now, that—”
He never had a chance to finish his thoughts. They were interrupted by my cell phone, which I had forgotten to silence. Jack’s personal ringtone, Always on My Mind by Willie Nelson, blared from the confines of my bag.
I turned and stared at my purse like it was on fire. Dueling emotions kept me frozen in place, my nerves unsure which signal they should follow. Was Jack calling to apologize again? Doubtful. If that were the case, he would have done so already, blowing up my phone with calls and texts until I answered. But he hadn’t. Not a peep since I left him at the front door, his last words “Mel, please?” barely heard over my angry shouts.
The only logical conclusion was that he had heard a
bout Serena and lost his marbles, assuming that I would think he was involved. Or worse—he was calling to tell me he was. After all, he knew where and for whom I worked.
My body was numb. I didn’t recall walking over to fetch my phone but I must have, since it was now in my hand. On autopilot, I answered and held it up to my ear. “Jack?”
“Oh, God, Mel! Oh, God! I didn’t do it, I swear to the Lord Almighty above, I didn’t. Please, please tell me you believe me! You know me, Mel,” Jack’s sobs of despair screeched across the airwaves.
Though I heard the words, they seemed foreign, like he was speaking in another language I didn’t comprehend. I tried to focus, tried to respond, but found it difficult to remember how to talk.
“Mel, are you there? Mel, please, answer me! Are you at work?”
“Uh-huh,” I heard myself mutter.
The room began to change colors, the vibrant hues morphed into dingy gray tones. The obnoxious Oriental rug under my feet, the power mahogany on the walls, my orange bag, all were now one mishmash of solid drabness. Jack’s voice grew fainter, like he was miles away, the sounds muffled by the loud thrumming in my head. The last thing I heard clearly was a heavy sigh and then a strange request.
“Mel, I need to talk to Roger. Right now. Hurry, they’re coming up the front steps.”
Like an obedient child, I held the phone out to Roger and watched as the grayness around me turned to black, welcoming the enveloping shroud of darkness.
CHAPTER FOUR - MONDAY - MID-MORNING
Sinking to the bottom
Of a blessed abyss,
Save me? Oh, it’s too late.
Sensation is all I know,
The crushing weight.
The water bears down.
Thus sealing my fate.
The poem from my youth played over and over in my head, the morbid phrases accompanied by a strange gurgling sound. Where I had read it or who wrote it escaped me, but it didn’t matter. The words brought a sense of comfort. Peace. They filled my thoughts, and I felt nothing but detachment. Nothing mattered. Everything was just dark, simple and pain-free.
Empty Shell Page 3