The right thing. Was the right thing murder as well as suicide? But why? Liz Atherton hadn’t liked Sam Skyler, hadn’t wanted her daughter to marry him, that was clear. But would a person who believed in the right thing believe in murder? Had Wayne been on the money with his theory? Had Liz Atherton loved Sam Skyler herself and been spurned? Or—
“I think Mom might be sick,” Diana said quietly, more like the Diana I had known in tai chi, soft and sweet and spaced. “She hasn’t done her sculpture in months. And she just doesn’t feel like she’s…I don’t know…connected to me anymore. I can’t seem to touch her like I could. And she’s so tired all the time. And she keeps rubbing her head. I’ve asked her if she was ill, but she just changes the subject. What if she’s…” Diana’s voice dropped even lower. “What if she’s dying, Kate?”
“Do you think she is?” I asked back, my voice almost as low as Diana’s. Oh God, I hoped Liz wasn’t dying.
“I don’t know,” Diana answered and then she was sobbing again. Softly, though. She gulped through her sobs to speak. “Mom’s been acting strangely for months. She loves me and Gary, I know, but she’ll just run off in the middle of a conversation. And she’s so distracted. And her hair and her clothes, Kate. Neatness is important to her. Really important. She even dresses before breakfast. But she’s been going out with her hair messed up and—”
“Would she kill herself if she was dying?” I asked as blandly as I could, keeping my eyes on the road, taking the curves as fast as possible while the sky darkened ahead.
Diana snuffled awhile before answering. I wanted to take a look at her face but I couldn’t, not at the rate I was speeding. I could smell her, though, new acrid sweat over the honeysuckle scent. Fear. It was fear I was smelling. On the woman I’d thought was a goddess. I wanted to put out a hand to touch her, to comfort her, but I kept my hands on the wheel as I took the next hairpin turn.
“No,” Diana said finally. “I don’t think Mom would kill herself if she was dying. It wouldn’t feel right to her. Unless…”
“Unless what?” I demanded. Again, I wanted to look at Diana, to see what her face revealed, but I was going too fast. Way too fast. I let up a little on the gas. I had to keep control of the Toyota. Diana remained silent.
“What?” I said again. But she still didn’t answer.
And then my brain sent me another bulletin.
“Are you sure it was your mother’s voice on your answering machine?” I asked. What if it wasn’t Diana setting me up, but someone else, setting her up. But for what? What would a phony caller hope to elicit by such a cruel prank? Could Emma have—
“No,” Diana answered, but I could hear uncertainty in her tone. Then her voice got stronger. “No. It was Mom. No one else could sound like her.”
At least Diana was talking again.
“I remembered more of my dreams,” she added, her voice a whisper.
Dreams. This whole thing had started with Diana’s dreams. I peered out into the darkening sky, underlit by an apricot glow now. For a moment I wondered if I was dreaming. The shimmying of my back tires on pavement told me I wasn’t. I clamped my hands tighter on the steering wheel.
“There was a lot of violence between my parents,” Diana went on, her voice trembling. “Between my mom and dad. See, I slept in their bedroom. I remember…I remember…”
“What?” I prompted, keeping my eyes focused on the road by pure force of will.
“My father beat my mother,” she answered. “And…”
Was this what it was like to be a therapist? I wanted to reach out and pull Diana’s words from her mouth now. But I was having a hard enough time keeping the car on the road. Seconds might count. I couldn’t slow down.
So I said, “Uh-huh?” as invitingly as possible.
And it worked.
“He beat her and he beat her.” Diana’s voice was rising now, in pitch and volume. I braced myself for a blast.
But her next words were so low I couldn’t hear them over the sound of the Toyota’s rush toward Quiero.
“What did you say?” I prodded.
“I think she smothered him,” she shot back.
“She what?” I said, forgetting to moderate my tone. And then I did turn to see Diana’s face. I’d heard her words, but I couldn’t believe I’d understood them correctly. The car skidded with my sideways glance. And all my look got me was a glimpse of the face of a dreamer. A dreamer with her blue eyes wide open and unfocused. Maybe not a dreamer, I thought, maybe a madwoman. I pulled my eyes back to the road as I pulled the Toyota out of the skid, my mouth as dry as drought.
“She did it with a pillow,” Diana went on, her words as fast as the car now. “I think she couldn’t stand the beatings anymore, so she killed him. She killed him, and I saw it happen. I tried not to remember all these years, but I saw it. And I dreamed it. And dreamed it. I couldn’t help myself. I—”
“She killed your father because he beat her,” I interrupted, my own thoughts speeding now, too fast to control. “And then you told her you were going to marry Sam Skyler. A man who beat his former wife. A man who killed his former wife—”
“But Sam—”
I stopped her. “It doesn’t matter what Sam did or didn’t do, what he was or wasn’t. Not if your mother believed he killed his wife. Was your mother a court reporter when Skyler was being tried for murder?”
“I…I think so. She’s been a court reporter for years—”
“Did she ever mention Sam Skyler’s trial?” I breathed.
“I can’t remember.” The whine was returning to Diana’s voice. “I don’t know!”
I kept my thoughts to myself then. And kept on driving. We were nearly there. What if Liz Atherton had been a court reporter while Sam was on trial, maybe even the court reporter for his trial? She would have heard the rumors permeating the legal community like corruption, the rumors that Sam Skyler had killed his wife and gotten away with it. Even Ona had gotten the scuttlebutt from her bailiff boyfriend. And then Liz’s daughter decides to marry this man, a man Liz believes is a wife-beater and wife-killer, no matter what Diana says in his defense. So she decides to stop him. She believes in justice. Her own justice.
The sun had almost set as I turned onto the side road that would take us to Yvonne’s friend’s house on the bluff.
“Are you sure your mother didn’t kill Sam?” I asked, slowing down now, not absolutely sure which driveway was the one that would take us to the right house.
“I don’t know,” Diana answered, but her tears were flowing again.
Maybe I was wrong, I told myself, straining my eyes for the driveway. It had been paved, I remembered, not gravel. And on the left.
“After you told your mother about the police suspecting you, about the massage oil—” I began.
“Oh, God!” Diana cried. I felt her body jerk beside me. “Mom said she’d fix everything. That’s what she said.”
“Would your mother fix everything by confessing falsely and killing herself?” I asked, gentling my voice again.
“No, not Mom,” Diana whispered. “Not my mom. She believes in truth. In justice.”
And then I saw the driveway I was looking for in the waning light. I yanked the steering wheel to make the turn, my back wheels flying as I did, and drove as far down the pavement as I could.
I was stopped by a wooden gate. It was so dark, I almost went through it before I hit the brakes.
Diana was out of the car before me, tearing open the gate. And then we both ran alongside the house, toward the bluff, the wet cold smacking our faces.
As we rounded the corner of the house, I thought how foolish I’d feel if Liz Atherton wasn’t there. But she was. She stood straight and tall as her small body allowed and then leaned over to place something the size of her hand on the deck chair behind her. I couldn’t see what it was. But there was still enough light that I could see Liz herself as she sprinted the last long yards across the rough ground and climbed onto the
two-by-four railing that guarded the length of the bluff.
“Stop!” Liz ordered, turning and crouching like an animal, hands and knees on the top of the railing. Her voice rang out calm and clear above the roar of the ocean. “Both of you stop right now.”
- Twenty-Three -
We made it as far as the deck chair before Liz Atherton shouted again.
This time, we only heard pieces of what she said. The booming of the ocean and the shrieking of the wind sucked all the rest away.
“Don’t come any nearer, honey…I’ve made…”
Diana started to run again. I watched Liz, backlit against the shimmering darkness as she lifted one hand off the railing that overlooked the rocks below. I leapt and caught Diana’s arm, pulling her toward me.
“Thank…” Liz said. I lost her next words, then heard “…on there…” She pointed toward the object she’d laid on the deck chair. I picked it up, only recognizing it as a miniature hand-held tape recorder when I touched it.
Diana used that diversion to run once more.
“Don’t!” Liz ordered and began to stand, wobbling like a tightrope walker on the weathered two-by-four. She lifted her hand as if to steady herself and then, mid-gesture, moved it to rub her temple.
I caught up with Diana in two steps and grabbed her by the shoulder. She was shaking. I was too. I took a big breath of chilled sea air, tasting salt. And fear.
“Listen to your mother,” I told Diana urgently. “Don’t rush her. Our only hope is to talk her down.”
“But she’s going to jump!” Diana cried.
“She will if you rush her.” I’d worked in a mental hospital long enough to know that. Whether Liz would jump even if we didn’t rush her was another question.
I tightened my grip on Diana’s shoulder as a moist gust of wind helpfully tilted her trembling body my way.
“Diana!” Liz yelled above the wind, crouching once more. I let my breath out slowly, wiping my already cold, dripping nose with the back of my hand, the hand that held the tape recorder. “I transcribed what you need to know. I love you. Everything will be as it should be. Please, don’t try to stop me.
“Mom!” Diana cried out and tried to run again. I caught her with both hands this time, jamming the tape recorder I still held into her flesh inadvertently, hitting the Play button as I did.
“To my two children,” the tape began in Liz’s distinct no-nonsense voice. Diana and I both jumped, startled, but I kept my grip on her. “Diana and Gary, this is a tape for you.” The words were tinny but just audible against the screaming wind and ocean. “There are also three written transcripts. The Quiero police should have one by tomorrow. And there will be one for each of you two. I haven’t been a court reporter all these years for nothing.” A chuckle crackled through the speaker. “I love you…”
As the taped words poured out like the dubbing of a bad movie, the words, “I love you,” echoed from the real Liz’s mouth once more. I looked up to see her still crouched on the railing, the sky growing darker behind her. “I killed Skyler…” And then I couldn’t hear anything more from the live Liz.
But the tape kept on running.
“…I had to kill him. At least, I thought I had to kill him. I knew he’d murdered his former wife. Everyone at the courthouse knew. Everyone except the jurors. And I knew he’d hit her. I couldn’t let that happen to you, Diana. I couldn’t let you go through that. Though from what his son said, perhaps I was wrong. The second most important decision in my life, and I might have been wrong.” There was no chuckle during this pause. “I got the idea from all the talk about tai chi. I realized how easily someone could be shoved over that low railing, especially a man as top-heavy as Sam Skyler…”
I looked up to see Liz still perched on that low railing, waiting. Waiting until we heard the entire tape as it rolled on? Or until the last glimmer of light left the darkening sky?
“…everyone else was mesmerized by the scuba wedding going on below, but when I looked over the bluff all I could see was Sally Skyler’s body lying crushed on the rocks. She deserved avenging, even if it hadn’t been for you, Diana…” Diana sobbed next to me as the tape continued. I pulled her closer and wrapped my arm around her shivering shoulders. And smelled honeysuckle and sweat against the fishy salt spray.
“…didn’t want to leave hand prints, so I picked up the two brass vases from the railing near Skyler. He never even turned my way. I held them up over my head and struck him with all my strength. After all those years with the chain saw, my strength is considerable. Skyler went over without a sound. Or if there was one, it was swallowed by the ocean. I wiped my fingerprints off and threw the vases after him. Good rubbish after bad.”
“Why?” Diana shouted over the wind. “Why?”
“I killed your father!” Liz shouted back, and the tape took over again, echoing eerily in the wind.
“…killed your father. Lennie Atherton, the drunken, bigoted cop on the take. Talk about your stereotypes. I thought I was marrying law and order, but I married corruption. And violence. So I pushed a pillow over his face while he was dead drunk…”
The tape continued in detail as the live Liz yelled, “The sudden freedom, I can’t tell you how it felt! I’ll never forget. But I didn’t stop to think that you were there too, Diana, that you might see! I’d hoped you’d never remember…” And then the rest of her words were snatched away as the wind changed course. But the tape was still running.
“…couldn’t kill Tessa, though. I was convinced she knew everything. I’m sure she knew I killed your father. How many widows are covered with bruises? How many widows have black eyes? How many wife beaters die of natural causes at such a young age? Tessa looked at me over twenty years ago and she knew. But she never said anything. Lennie’s cop friends knew too, but they’d have to talk about motive if they arrested me. They’d have to talk about all the times they’d found me and brought me back to Lennie when I took you kids and tried to run away. So they said he had a heart attack, ‘what a shame.’ It was a small town, easy to get the doctor to sign the death certificate…”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Diana cried out. “I still love you.”
I couldn’t tell whether Liz had heard her daughter from the railing, but she looked up and lifted one hand in a gesture that might have been blowing a kiss our way. The tape rolled on.
“…and then at Skyler’s funeral, when Tessa made the remark about the relief that mourners feel, I thought she was talking to me, telling me she knew. I thought she had figured out that I killed Skyler so he wouldn’t beat Diana the way Lennie beat me. So I went to the mortuary to talk to her, to beg her not to tell, to tell her I was dying anyway. To ask her to wait. I walked into the chapel and saw the back of Tessa’s head. She was bent over, probably praying. She never heard me. And then I saw the brass candlestick. And I went mad. I grabbed the candlestick and hit her. The minute I did it, I knew it was wrong. Terribly wrong. Tessa slumped over, her head bleeding. But I felt her wrist and there was still a pulse. I even thought of killing her then, of finishing her off. But that would have been unjustifiable. Lennie and Skyler were evil. Tessa wasn’t. I couldn’t kill her. So I just wiped my prints from the candlestick and ran, grateful she wasn’t badly hurt. She was already regaining consciousness when I left. And then I went home and waited for the police to arrest me. I was sure Tessa would tell them everything. But she didn’t. I don’t know why.”
I thought I heard the sound of brakes screeching, somewhere behind us, but then it was gone again. Maybe it was just a gull.
The live Liz jerked her head up. Had she heard it too?
“…I’m dying anyway…” the tape pushed on.
“No, Mom, no!” Diana screamed.
“Mom!” echoed behind me.
I turned to see two figures storming through the gate in the darkness.
“Kate!” shouted the largest one.
Wayne and Gary. Relief washed over me. But not for long.
; Because Gary kept running, straight toward his mother. My mouth went dry in all the wet and cold.
“Stop!” Liz’s voice rang out.
I swiveled around and saw her rise to a standing position again, swaying as she did. I braced myself, as if centering my own body could stop hers from swaying.
“I have no regrets!” Liz shouted as Gary rushed on, passing us.
Wayne grabbed at him, just missing his collar. He picked up his own pace, running almost as fast as Gary.
The forgotten tape was still spinning, though.
“…I’m dying of a brain tumor…” it said.
Gary stopped and looked around.
“Mom?” he said in confusion.
“She says she killed Sam and Daddy,” Diana told him.
Gary nodded impatiently as he looked at his mother, then jerked his head around to check behind him for her double. How long had he known that his mother had killed two men? Or suspected? From his and Diana’s first visit to us? Had he been the one to tell Diana to call us off? Wayne caught up with him and reached out. Gary shook off his hand. Wayne respected the gesture and stood back.
“…Lennie’s revenge.” Another chuckle. “The doctor doesn’t agree, but I’m sure the tumor began back then from all those times Lennie hit my head. And now it’s killing me. Inoperable, they say…”
Gary turned back to the live Liz.
“Mom, don’t jump!” he bellowed. “We’ll find a way.”
Liz shifted her feet carefully on the railing, turning toward the ocean, as the tape ran on about medical opinions on how long she had left, about alternative treatments, and about her own opinion that the tumor wasn’t worth treating, not even the pain.
“No, no!” Gary yelled and made a sudden dash toward her, too sudden for Wayne to even grab for him. Bile filled my mouth.
Gary had almost reached the railing when Liz turned her head to look over her shoulder.
A Cry for Self-Help (A Kate Jasper Mystery) Page 24