I.L. Wolf - Her Cousin, Much Removed

by I. L. Wolf

  It was definitely at least two people, a man from the sound of it, and possibly a woman, though she couldn’t tell what they were saying, there was no shape to the words. Not wanting to risk the groan of the door in the other direction, she left it exactly where it was and got low between the counters, the grit of the floor rough against her palms As long as no one—meaning Julian—left any tools down there, she was pretty much in the clear.

  The voices drifted from the office as she crawled toward the main hall. So much for grabbing the keys and swipe cards and getting into the office building where she was sure Marlene was being held. Still on her hands and knees, she crossed the sill to the smooth linoleum, the smell of the fresh dirt warm in her nose. Don’t sneeze, she told herself. Whatever you do, don’t sneeze.

  Willing her body to voluntarily take action over the involuntary, she stood carefully, the slick, clean surface far more likely to betray her than the worn concrete of the work area. ‘Sneakers’ is such a bad name for rubber-soled shoes she thought as she stepped, cautiously putting down only the ball of her foot hoping to avoid a tell-tale squeak. Possibly not the best footwear for the job.

  Keeping her back against the wall, Venetia walked in a sideways tiptoe, almost allowing herself to imagine what she looked like and then thinking better of it. She couldn’t risk the giggling. The voices were louder now, definitely a man and a woman.

  If she managed to get closer, she knew she’d hear, no problem. Not that she knew that from prior experience with eavesdropping or anything. But she was pretty sure. As long as the second door wasn’t fully open, because if it was, they couldn’t miss her.

  “I told you not to send it to her. Why the hell didn’t you listen?” Venetia nearly let out a sigh of relief, and then realized she shouldn’t. That was, without a doubt, Marlene. She was alive. And angry, by the sound of it.

  “Geeze, Dixie, relax.”

  “I’ve told you and told you not to call me Dixie. That’s not my name.”

  “I hate to point it out to you, Dixie, but it very much is.”

  “That,” she said, her voice dropping to a hard-to-hear range, “is not my name.”

  “Oh how we like to pretend to forget where we come from.”

  “I’m not pretending anything. I told you I was done with all this, and yet you show up here, telling me it’s only one more time.”

  “This time it’s different.” he said.

  “So it can be different for you and not for me?”

  “It’s different,” he said again. Venetia had no idea who it was, but it certainly was not Julian.

  “You’ve probably got her scared half to death, you know,” said Marlene.

  “She looks like she can handle it. What’s the harm? Maybe we’ll get a few extra bucks out of it.”

  “We aren’t getting anything. We aren’t in anything. I told you I’d get you a couple of names, and that was that.”

  “It’s never that,” he said. “Dixie, we can run and run but we are who we are.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve stopped running. I’m where I am, and I like it that way, and for the last holy time, stop calling me Dixie.”

  “You never could take a joke.”

  “How is this supposed to be a joke? What, exactly, is funny?”

  “Well, her voice when I called her, for starters.” His glee oozed through the doorway. “Dane thought it was funny.”

  “Of course he did, you’re both operating with the same lack of maturity.”

  “I don’t know what happened to you, you used to be a lot more fun.”

  “I freaking grew up, Woody.”

  “You sure took your time about it,” he said.

  Venetia crouched out of view of the slightly ajar office door. She shifted. Through the crack she saw Marlene’s profile, her skin slightly reddened, her hair wild. She couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the man though. She wanted to see who it was, Marlene had never mentioned a Woody.

  Of course, she’d never mentioned being called Dixie, either. Or any of the names Detective James claimed she went by. Venetia was starting believe all of that might have been true.

  “Look, I understand that you think this is some noble quest this time around, but I’m having a really hard time seeing it, let alone believing you’re motivated by anything other than money,” she said.

  “You wound me.”

  “I’d like to. And I told you tying me up was too much.”

  “Can you blame me when you overreact like this? Besides, we had to get her moving, and for some reason she seems to like you.”

  “Get her moving? That’s what it is to you?”

  “We know she’s the key to getting Shane out. Can you imagine when I told her I knew she was in the police station?”

  “Yes, I can imagine, she’s a decent human. Unlike you and that bottom feeder, Dane. You can always tell a scammer.”

  “Takes one to know one,” he said. “Besides, Dane saw the whole interview, such that it was. At least until that detective cut the camera. Dane’s convinced she knows more than she’s saying. If she’d only hand over the papers, she could get Shane out of jail, if she tried. He wouldn’t have been in this mess if it wasn’t for her.”

  “All she did is hire him, Woody, and not even directly. What is it with you and that boy? Shane’s not yours, you know.”

  “I know he’s not mine. Not that way. But he didn’t do this, Dixie, and that girl let him go to jail just as free as you please.”

  “She did no such thing.”

  “You know she’s not really your niece, don’t you? Hell, he’s not even really her uncle.”

  “Looks like we both took family where we could find it, Woody.”

  Venetia rested her back against the wall, her legs burning from the prolonged squat. Clearly they were talking about her, but did they mean Shane Palint?

  “He kept saying that that lady gave her lawyer papers that could get him out, the brother even told him that. The brother of the dead woman, Dixie, and he never believed Shane was involved.”

  Oh, she thought. Yes they do.

  “And? What are we supposed to do about it?”

  “What do you think?”

  “She didn’t do anything wrong, Woody. I would bet anything I had in the world on it.”

  “And what, exactly, do you have in the world?”

  “Get off it. By the way, it’s a little interesting that you’re here on this noble mission, and yet still managed to tie the knot,” Marlene paced, appearing and disappearing through the gap in the door.

  “We were deeply in love. Besides, you’re the one who pointed me toward the mark.”

  “Well, she could stand to go down a few pegs. She wasn’t my favorite.”

  “See, Dixie, it never leaves you. Besides, I’m sure she was involved.”

  “You think everyone was involved,” she said. “Convenient that she left a sizable pot, though. So now what? Venetia thinks I’ve been kidnapped, we already know she told the cops. You’re no closer to the info for Shane.”

  “Are you sure you can’t get her to give it you?”

  “And how do you propose I ask, exactly?”

  Venetia’s right leg began to shake. She tried to stand, as gradually as she could, but her feet slipped from under her. Only an inch, but the inch was enough.

  Squeak.

  “What was that?” the man said.

  “I don’t know,” said Marlene, flinging open the door with a solid thwack. Venetia raised hand.

  “Hi,” she said. “Good to see you’re safe.”

  Chapter 18

  “Not sure I could say the same for you at the moment, Doll,” said Marlene, her lips thin and white with the pressure of pressing them together.

  “Who’s here with you?”

  “No one,” she said. “No one’s here with me.”

  “Because I could have sworn I heard a man…”

  Shaking her head, Marlene sighed a long, deep sigh. “Oh Ve
netia, I really, really wish you hadn’t come here tonight.”

  “I kind of do too. I thought you were kidnapped,” said Venetia.

  “I was. Sort of.”

  “By Dane?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. She nudged the door open a little further. Behind her stood Higson Boggs.

  “Why were you calling him Woody? I thought his name was…” She trailed off as the circle of thought closed itself in her head. “Oh. So your name actually is Dixie. He had you tied up.”

  “Yeah, it did look that way. Why don’t you come in here and have a seat?” Marlene said, her face no less grim.

  “I’m not exactly sure I want to,” said Venetia. Of all times to be on the outs with her police contact, this seemed like a particularly bad time.

  Marlene jerked her head back, a deep wrinkle appearing between her eyes. “Do you actually think I’d hurt you?” she said.

  “Well, up until a few minutes ago, I thought your name was Marlene Green, so I’m really not sure what to think.”

  “That hurts,” she said.

  “That’s what hurts?” Venetia said. “I’m trying to reconcile the fact that this guy was calling you Dixie with the Marlene I’ve known all these years.”

  “I’m still that person,” she said.

  “Are you?”

  “We’re all a lot of different people,” she said. “Mine just happened to have names to go along with them.”

  “That’s not terribly reassuring, you know.”

  “Hey can we move this Women’s Channel moment along here?” Woody slung his gaunt frame into one of the molded plastic chairs, scooting it back a few inches. “Couldn’t that husband of yours spring for some decent furniture?”

  “You leave my husband alone,” Marlene said. “Seriously.” Her eyes were sharp, cold. “He’s a good man, Woody.”

  “Why do you keep calling him that?”

  “It’s his real name,” Marlene said.

  “Thank goodness,” Venetia said before she realized she’d said rather than thinking it.

  “Why do you say that?” he said.

  “Higson Boggs? Who would want to really have the name Higson Boggs? It’s a really grating name, if you know what I mean.” Marlene cleared her throat. “It kind of makes you picture a Dickens character, you know the type,” Marlene cleared a little more forcefully. “Are you OK?” Venetia asked. Marlene nodded curtly, and Venetia continued, “The kind of character you know will get his comeuppance by the end—”

  “It was my grandfather’s name,” said Higson.

  “Huh,” Venetia said. “I’m sure he was lovely.”

  “He wasn’t,” said Marlene. “In fact, they share a lot in common.”

  “So are you going to tell me how you two know each other?”

  “We go way back,” said Higson.

  “Way, way back,” Marlene said. “As in far enough back that we shouldn’t actually have to interact anymore.”

  “You wound me.”

  “I’d like to,” she said. She grabbed a pod from the counter and plunked it into the coffee maker, and then dumped a mug of water in the top.

  “What are you doing?” said Venetia.

  “And you said she was smart,” Higson said. “Not striking me as the brightest bulb in the drawer.”

  “Oh-kay,” Venetia said slowly. “I meant why are you making coffee?”

  “Because I need coffee,” Marlene said. “And I think you’re going to, too. This might take a while, it’s late, and bad news always goes better with caffeine.”

  “Bad news?”

  “Depends on your point of view,” said Higson. “Hey, aren’t you a lawyer?”

  “Not so much these days,” she said.

  “Because I’ve got a little bit of a problem with this will-slash-marriage-certificate thing—”

  “For heck’s sake, Woody, don’t start trying to pull Venetia in on your marriage scam. It’s the last thing you need.”

  “Ah, yeah, I heard about that in the lobby of that lawyer, what’s his name, Bloaerd,” Venetia said. Marlene and Higson quickly looked at each other. “Was Bloaerd the magic word in that sentence?”

  “Again, not our meatiest issue right now,” Marlene said. “He can scam the estate on his own dime.”

  “The whole point of it is not doing that,” he said, flashing her a surprisingly dazzling smile.

  “Nice teeth,” Venetia said.

  “Thanks. A gift from an ex.”

  “And by that he means that a dentist he bamboozled into dating him gave him the full set right before he made off with her prescription pad and a doctored copy of her license.”

  “Hey, she was fine,” he said. “The disciplinary charges didn’t stick. Besides, it’s not as though you haven’t pulled your fair share—”

  “Not the point,” Marlene said. “Absolutely not the point. So Venetia.” Marlene leaned against the counter next to the coffee pot. It started to hiss and sputter.

  “Yes, Marlene. Or should I call you Dixie?”

  “I’d really love it if you didn’t. I understand that this all might be a little confusing for you, doll.”

  “I kind of wish you’d stop calling me that.”

  “I’ve always called you that.”

  “And I’ve always called you Marlene.”

  “That’s a thing,” she said. “That’s a thing.”

  “What does that even mean?” said Higson.

  “Could you sit there and not say anything for a while?” Marlene said.

  “I could,” he said, “but I probably won’t.”

  “What are you, five?” Marlene’s contempt seeped its way across the linoleum.

  “Some days,” he said.

  “Great,” she said. “This is all freaking great. OK, Venetia, there are some aspects of my life you may not have known about until now.”

  “No kidding.”

  “You can save the sarcasm,” she said. “I wasn’t always a totally upright citizen.”

  “I think that’s pretty evident at this point,” Venetia said as she got up, grabbed her mug from the counter, and held it out toward Marlene. Marlene took her mug from beneath the coffeemaker, filled Venetia’s with water, tossed the other pod, and started the brew. “You?” she said to Higson.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Don’t be so gracious,” said Marlene. When Venetia’s finished, she slid a brown, crazed mug over and filled it with coffee as well. In spite of herself, Venetia shared a quick smile with Marlene. That was the mug they used for the unpleasant visitors, the ones they couldn’t stand. Venetia quickly regrabbed her anger, she wasn’t ready for inside jokes.

  “Thank you ever so much, milady,” he said, circling a hand in front of his face and pretending to bow while remaining firmly seated.

  “Can it,” she said, sloshing the cup in front of him when the machine stopped. “I have a past I’m not exactly proud of.”

  “How about the outstanding warrants? How do you feel about those?”

  “You know about them?”

  Venetia nodded slowly. “Yep.”

  “They were from a very different time in my life. I didn’t have a stable upbringing, you know, and I had to do a lot—a lot I’m not that happy about—to survive.”

  “Sure seemed to enjoy it while you were doing it,” Higson said.

  “And, I think I’m going to regret asking this,” said Venetia, looking from Marlene to Higson and back again, “but how do you two know each other?”

  “Nooo,” said Marlene, catching the undercurrent of Venetia’s question. “No. Absolutely not. No. Never. Uh-uh. I wouldn’t do that to Julian, especially not with him.”

  “Wow, Dixie, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

  “Believe me, Woody, that was the nice version.”

  “You still didn’t answer my question.”

  “We grew up in the same town,” Marlene said. “Near each other. It’s not important.”

  “M
y question, I get to decide exactly how important it is. Also, won’t Julian be worried about you?”

  “He’s fine,” Marlene said.

  “So you’re embarrassed to tell her? That’s sad, Dixie. And pretty cold. But mostly sad.”

  “Tell me?”

  “Yeah, why don’t you tell her? She sounds like she really wants to know.”

  “I don’t like the way he says things,” Venetia said. “I mean, I get innuendo and doublespeak, but can you sound like that with everything you say? Doesn’t it lose its effectiveness?”

  “She has a point,” Marlene said, easing herself into an orange plastic chair.

  “You’re avoiding the question. I’ll give you until three to tell her or I will.”

  “Why are you suddenly so into telling her anything? You wanted to extort money from her not fifteen minutes ago.”

  “It’s all about being flexible,” he said. “One.”

  “This is getting really weird,” said Venetia. “Marlene, what would you be embarrassed about?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “It wasn’t the best of circumstances, and let’s leave it at that.”

  “Why leave it at that?” said Higson. “Two.”

  “So you’re really going to play it this way. Given your own currently pretty precarious situation.”

  “I love the edge,” he said, his chilly smile unwarmed by his pilfered teeth. “Three. I guess I get to go.”

  “Marlene?”

  “Stop it, Woody. Just stop it. Let me tell her myself.”

  “All I was trying to do.”

  “It’s not the best time, she’s had a lot of information to digest—”

  “You see, Venetia—you don’t mind if I call you Venetia, do you? We’re practically, hmm, how do I put this, family. Or were family. Anywho, way, way, way back in the day, Marlene—”

  “Woody, if you don’t stop talking right now, there’s a good chance you aren’t making it out of the potting shed.”

  “Right,” he said. “Your, hmm, how do you refer to her? She’s not an aunt. She’s not much of anything, really, to you.”

  “You know, Higson,” Venetia said, “I haven’t seen much of you. But I’m starting to think you and Delenda were far better suited than I thought. Clearly you had a lot in common.”