by B R Snow
“How is she doing?” I said, draping the napkin across my lap.
“Not good,” he said. “This is the worst one yet.”
I sensed him kicking himself under the table for the comment.
“There’s been more than one?” I said, trying to sound casual.
He paused, then nodded and continued. “Yeah, there have.”
“Since you’ve been dating?”
“Dating? That’s not the word I’d use to describe it.”
“What would you call it?”
“Providing protective services is probably the best term to use,” he said, shrugging.
“You lost me, Jerry,” I said, glancing around the room. At a nearby table, I recognized the state policeman who had been working on the murder case with Jackson. He was sitting with three other people I assumed were also cops.
“It’s a long story,” Jerry said.
“All the good ones are,” I said, glancing up at the waitress who arrived with a glass of wine for me and a refill of Jerry’s cocktail. “We’re going to need a few minutes.”
The waitress smiled and walked away. I looked at Jerry and waited.
“I don’t know what to do, Suzy,” he whispered.
Gone was the cocky, self-important lawyer I’d met on our first date. I looked across the table and saw a sad and lost little boy.
“All I wanted to do was to buy a boat and live on the beach,” he said, swirling the ice cubes in his drink.
“It’s not too late,” I said.
“Oh, it’s way too late,” he said. “I’m probably on my way to jail for a very long time.”
I felt my stomach jump, and I snuck a quick glance at the four cops sitting nearby just to make sure they were still there.
“Don’t worry, Suzy,” he said, forcing a laugh. “You’re completely safe. I would never hurt you. In fact, I’d never hurt anybody. And Jackson and Josie in the bar and the four cops sitting at the table over there can all relax.”
He took a sip from his drink and then took a deep breath.
“You know, I was about to turn myself in when you called. I agreed to come to dinner because it might be the last chance I get to talk to you and try to explain what’s been going on. Since you were the only one able to do something about Rosaline, I figured it was the least I could do. I certainly wasn’t able to do anything with her.”
Stunned by his revelation and understanding of the situation he was in, I shifted in my seat, placed my elbows on the table and leaned closer.
“Rosaline killed Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, didn’t she?” I whispered.
“Yes, she certainly did. And she tried her best to do the same to Roxanne. How’s she doing anyway?”
“They think she’s going to make it.” I picked up my wine glass and then set it right back down because my hand was trembling.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that,” Jerry said, draining half his drink.
“But you and Rosaline had an airtight alibi for all three. You were at the motel having… well, you know. Everyone heard the racket you two were making.”
Jerry laughed.
“Yeah, it was loud. When Rosaline mentioned it, I thought she was crazy for thinking it would work. Well, she is crazy. But I thought the idea was just goofy. Boy, was I wrong. It worked like a charm. I should have known it would. All of Rosaline’s schemes work. At least they did until now.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, my hand finally settled enough for me to take a small sip of wine.
“It was a recording we made in New York a couple of months ago. We were sitting around her apartment when she brought it up. I should have put a stop to it right there. But I wasn’t strong enough,” he said, shrugging. “She put it on a loop that just kept repeating until we got back to the motel and turned it off.”
“What?”
“Yeah, it’s us on the tape faking it. We made sure that the manager had seen her enough times hanging around the motel. And we always made a point of being affectionate with each other when other people were around. She’d call when she was about to need an alibi, and I’d turn the tape on and start building the cover story.”
“It sounds like a lot of trouble to go to,” I said.
“Working for Crawford all those years taught Rosaline about the importance of details and having the ability to deflect attention away from her when it was necessary. If it came down to our word against the cops, who knows how well that would have help up. But as soon as the motel manager confirmed our alibi with specific details we were covered.”
“You’re saying you and Rosaline weren’t dating?”
“No, we most certainly were not dating,” he said, apparently finding the idea abhorrent.
“Why on earth not?”
“I suppose I could try and say something clever like I don’t date crazy women or something like that. But let’s stick with the truth.”
“Which is?” I said, feeling like I was about to burst from anticipation.
“Rosaline is my sister.”
I sat back in my chair and stared across the table at him in stunned silence.
“Didn’t see that one coming, huh?” he said, finishing the rest of his drink.
“But how is that possible? I read every article about what happened with your family, and there was no reference to a son. Or brother.”
“That’s because I was given up for adoption at birth,” he said, his eyes welling up with tears.
“Why on earth would your parents do something crazy like that?” I said, truly bewildered by the direction the conversation had turned.
“Well, for one, as I’ve discovered, crazy runs in my family. But the primary reason was that I wasn’t my father’s son.”
I sat back in my chair as I processed the news.
“Your mother had an affair and your supposed father forced her to give you up?” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, exhaling loudly. “It turns out he wasn’t the forgiving type. And I’m sure that’s where Rosaline gets it.”
“I’m stunned,” I said. I had tried for insightful but had to settle for stating the obvious.
“Oh, it gets better,” he said, toying with his napkin. “Guess who my real father is?”
I sat quietly thinking about the question. Then the lightbulb went off.
“Bob Crawford?”
“The one and only.”
“He met your mother when he was trying to buy your father’s maple syrup company.”
“You’re good,” Jerry said.
“And when he found out, he freaked out?”
“According to Rosaline, yes.”
“But after all that, why on earth did he agree to sell his company to Crawford?”
“He didn’t. But with all the lawyers hovering and my mom threatening to leave him for Crawford if he didn’t agree to the sale, he eventually caved.”
“This is unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head.
“And then one night he finally lost it and… well, you know the rest of the story.”
“But how did you reenter the picture?”
“Rosaline tracked me down about four years ago.”
I sat in stunned silence again trying to process what I’d just learned.
“I guess that wouldn’t have been too hard,” I said. “All Rosaline needed to do was track down the family that adopted you.”
“That’s what she thought,” Jerry said, sliding his menu to the other side of the table. “But what Rosaline didn’t know was that my adoptive family gave me up when I was three.”
“What?”
“Yeah, apparently they had a change of heart at some point. It turns out I was an overactive child with a fondness for fire. They couldn’t deal with me. So I began a thirteen-year odyssey through the Canadian and U.S. foster systems.”
I felt my bottom lip begin to quiver.
“How many different families were there?”
“Eight,” he said. “Six in Canada and two more
here in the States. When I turned sixteen, I got my driver’s license and just took off on my own. I had no idea where I would end up, but I knew it had to be better than where I was.”
“So where did you go?”
He took a sip of his fresh cocktail.
“I’d saved enough money to buy a new identity, added a couple of years to my age, and joined the military. The tests they gave me showed that I had an aptitude for finance, and when I got out I went straight to college and got my degree in three years. Three years after that, I got my law degree. And now… well, here I am. Jerry the Lawyer.”
“You didn’t know you were Crawford’s son did you?”
“Not a clue. Not until Rosaline managed to track me down.”
“How did she find you?” I said, hanging on every word.
“The usual stuff. Contacts with the various foster homes. Private investigators. And once they made the connection with the name change, it was pretty simple from there.”
“So the whole thing about you helping Mrs. Crawford out with her finances was an elaborate setup?” I said.
“Yeah, that was just one more piece of Rosaline’s long-term plan,” he said, trailing his finger down his water glass that was beading with icy drops of water.
I watched and waited out the silence.
“But don’t get me wrong,” he said as a thought entered his head. “I’m really good at what I do, so it wasn’t that much of a con job on Mrs. Crawford. And you don’t have anything to worry about. I did a really good job with your mom’s stuff.”
I nodded and snuck a glance at the table full of cops sitting nearby. They were paying close attention while trying not to be obvious about it, and I wondered if some form of listening device had been hidden somewhere on or under our table. I started tapping my spoon on the table and saw one of the cops touch her ear. Normally I would have been pleased with that successful piece of detective work, but I took no pleasure from it. All I felt was an overwhelming sadness for the lost man sitting across from me.
“So Rosaline had a long-term plan to, what, infiltrate Crawford and his company by getting hired and working her way up?”
“Yeah,” Jerry said. “She thought once I was identified as Crawford’s son, as the sole heir, I’d have a good shot at inheriting all of it.”
“It might have worked,” I said.
“Yeah, I think it would have. Of course, Rosaline expected me to pick her to run the whole thing. Rosaline’s focus is unbelievable, and once she sets a goal, if you know what’s good for you, all you can do is get out of her way.”
“And then you signed up to help her?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “After she told me what her plan was, I played along to see if I could stop her.”
“From killing Crawford?”
“At first that was the goal. Then she started worrying about Mrs. Crawford coming back into the picture. When that happened, both of the Crawford’s had to go.”
“Revenge, right?”
“Of course. She blamed Crawford for the destruction of our family. What there was of it,” he said, forcing a small laugh. “Along the way it got tempered with greed and ego, but it was a revenge play from the start.”
“I’m confused about the timing. Why was it so important to do it now?”
“That was me,” he said, swirling his ice cubes then taking another sip. He looked at his glass. “I wonder how long it’s going to be before I get to have another one of these.” Then he brightened and gave me a strange smile that made me nervous. “Maybe I’ll get put in a minimum security prison that has a Happy Hour.” Then he cackled and downed the rest of his drink.
Hmmm. Maybe it did run in the family.
“What did you do?” I said, desperate to get back on topic before he decided that maybe he’d said enough.
“I thought it was an elegant plan,” he said, laughing softly. “Boy, was I wrong.”
I was on the edge of my seat and at one point had to catch myself from falling forward off my chair. But I bit my tongue and continued to wait out the long silences.
“I sent Crawford a key in the mail along with an anonymous note that said he and I needed to meet. I put just enough cryptic information in the note to let him know that I had some very incriminating evidence about his past.”
“He didn’t know that you were his son, did he?”
“No, absolutely not. But I was going to tell Crawford when we met,” he said. “I needed to see his reaction.”
“Did you ever get the chance to meet with him?”
“No, before I could get a meeting set up the dummy blew a gasket and told Rosaline, his ex-wife, and Roxanne about the key and the note.”
“Why would he do that?” I noticed the waitress approaching our table and motioned for another round of drinks.
“Like I said, my note rattled his cage. Maybe he thought it was about the Sugarland sale and everything that went along with that. My guess is that he told Rosaline because he was concerned the information might have something to do with the company. He probably told Mrs. Crawford because he thought she might be behind the whole thing. And given Roxanne’s history, he could have been worried about some skeletons in her closet that would embarrass him and make the shareholders nervous.” He looked at me and shrugged. “Who knows? All of them certainly had reasons to be nervous and the uncertainty of what it was drove them all nuts. Especially Rosaline.”
“You didn’t tell her it was you, right?”
“Suzy, if I had, I’d be a dead man.”
I swallowed hard.
“But why did you do it?”
“She’s my sister. I hoped I could save Rosaline from herself. Over the past year, she’s turned really erratic and extremely dangerous,” he whispered. “Crazy plan, huh?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” I said, nodding.
He managed a small laugh.
“Like I said, it runs in the family.”
“Have you been diagnosed with anything?”
“Oh, I have a few minor issues that I need to keep an eye on, but mine lean toward wounds of a self-inflicted nature.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because it’s time,” he said. “And you’re the only one I feel comfortable telling.”
“I don’t think I can help you, Jerry.”
“I’m not looking for help,” he said, his eyes flaring briefly. “I’m telling you because you’re the only one who will listen.” He leaned forward and gave me a hard stare.
“Relax, Jerry,” I whispered. “I’m listening.”
“Sorry,” he said. “This is all just too much stress and guilt to deal with.”
“I understand. At least I’m trying.”
“Anyway, after Crawford spilled the beans about the key and the note, Rosaline came up with the idea for Crawford to take a break and spend some time on the island.”
“And you figured out a way to tag along?”
“Yeah, I figured she’d get into all sorts of trouble if I weren't around. Obviously, it didn’t make a bit of difference whether I was here or not.”
“Apart from giving her an airtight alibi,” I blurted.
“Yeah, I did do that, didn’t I?” he said, thinking about it, then shrugging it off.
“Please tell me you weren’t involved in the murders.”
“Not directly. It was always after the fact.”
“And the maple syrup was… what? Some weird tribute to the memory of her father?”
“It was something like that. Rosaline said she poured a gallon of it down Crawford’s throat before she threw him overboard.”
“How the heck did she manage to do that?”
“She slipped him a couple of her own pills. Rosaline is on some pretty serious medications to help control her mood swings. Crawford nodded off during their boat ride. She pulled the maple syrup trick, tossed him overboard, and then went looking for the dog. But the dog must have figured it out and jumped in th
e water before she could get her hands on it.”
An intense loathing for the woman flooded through me.
“When Rosaline flips her crazy switch on, there’s no way of telling what she might do,” Jerry said.
I flashed back to the damage she’d inflicted on her car when she’d discovered the four flat tires and nodded in silent agreement.
“And Mrs. Crawford?” I said.
“You mean, why kill her now?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, as I’m sure you noticed at dinner that night, they hated each other. And once the rumor of a possible Crawford reconciliation started swirling around, Rosaline was scared to death that Mrs. Crawford would figure out a way to get her out of the company. When the opportunity presented itself, she just went for it.”
“And she figured out a way to set Chef Claire up for the murder,” I said.
“Rosaline called taking Mrs. Crawford out and getting Chef Claire blamed for it a two for one,” he said, shaking his head. “She found out that Chef Claire had been seeing Carl and was enraged by the thought of it.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that Carl was anything more than a temporary plaything for Rosaline.”
“He wasn’t. But Rosaline isn’t very good at sharing her toys,” Jerry said.
“But she knew that Roxanne had also been sleeping with Carl, right?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “But Roxanne’s infidelity was something Rosaline thought she might be able to use to her advantage at some point in the future. So she encouraged Roxanne to go for it.”
“But then she changed her mind and tried to kill her?” I said, shaking my head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Suzy, you need to remember that we are talking about a sick and very dangerous individual here. I haven’t talked with Rosaline since she attacked Roxanne, but my guess is that Rosaline went to that house with the intention of killing Carl, not Roxanne. She was just unlucky enough to be there when Rosaline showed up.”
“And Rosaline had already flipped on her crazy switch,” I said.
“Yes, I’m sure she had.”
“Josie and I almost got run over by another boat the night we had dinner at the island. That was Rosaline, wasn’t it?”