The Sometime Sister

by Katherine Nichols

  He ignored my obvious reluctance to touch him and spoke as if we’d shared a warm embrace. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. Let’s go into the den. I’ll have Juan bring us drinks. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “It’s a little early for me. But we do have things to talk about.” I followed him down a hallway that opened into a vast open space. The back wall was all windows with an incredible view of the contrasting blues and greens of ocean and sky. This was the balcony scene my sister, a self-made Rapunzel, had described.

  The rest of the room was a study in gray. Smokey gray walls, pale, grayish wooden floors covered with a geometric-print accent rug in shades of gray with touches of yellow. A gigantic leather sectional, complete with dual recliners, the kind Stella had once declared incredibly tacky, was charcoal. The effect was somber and drab.

  Ben called for Juan to bring him a gin and tonic straight up.

  “Sure you don’t want something?”

  I shook my head and sank into one of the matching chairs, so gigantic they rendered an average-size person childlike. He sat across from me.

  “You’re looking great, Grace. You’ve always been a beautiful woman, but there’s something new about you, a kind of glow.”

  Ben had must have forgotten he’d used that exact “kind of glow” line on me when we first met. At least, he was right about there being something new. Now, the glow was from having seen the light of what a pretentious asshole he was.

  “You know why I’m here. We don’t have a lot of time, so I’d appreciate it if we could cut through the bullshit and get to the point. I want to find out what happened to Stella.” I hadn’t meant to be so direct, but sitting near the man who might have killed my sister with him thinking he could charm his way back into my life sickened me.

  His eyes narrowed, and he glared at me as if I were a spider he planned to squash. I got a glimpse of what Stella saw every time she angered him. I surveyed the room to see if I could spot a vase and saw only a rectangular cut-glass piece filled with gray pebbles. It would do in a pinch. But the look passed, and I put my safe word on hold.

  “I can’t imagine how upset you must be, Grace. But I told your mother the same thing I said to the authorities. She got caught in a storm and, uh, you can read the rest from the accident report.” He unwrapped the napkin around his drink and dabbed at dry eyes.

  I wanted to scream he knew Stella would never go out if there were even a hint of risky weather, but I didn’t. Ben was the consummate liar. He’d stick to his story no matter what. I needed to try another approach.

  “That’s what you say happened, but there’s more to it, isn’t there? What was going on between the two of you that made her tell Mom she was coming home?”

  He stopped mid-sip and curled his lip. The movement was quick and subtle, but I struck a nerve

  “I won’t deny we had our troubles. Your sister was a passionate woman. But, of course, you know that don’t you, Grace?” He paused, clearly looking forward to my reaction, but I kept my cool. He continued, “There are things you’re unaware of. Things I’ve spared you from until now.”

  I looked over him at the ocean. He shifted in his chair.

  “At first, it was great between us. She loved the water and was crazy about the house. We flew in a decorator from Miami and I let the two of them splurge. The guy was a real twinkle-toes. Said we needed a ‘modern-rustic’ approach, whatever the hell that is. When they finished spending my money on chandeliers and shit, she was happy. Being the most beautiful woman in the room when we entertained thrilled her. She took up surfing, against my wishes, I might add. It was too dangerous, but you know how strong willed she could be.”

  He downed his drink and called for Juan to bring another. Only a quarter after two and Ben was on his way to getting hammered. I decided this could work to my advantage.

  “I’ve forgotten a lot about my sister,” I said. “Please, refresh my memory.”

  He swirled the gin and tonic before tipping it to his mouth. “Stella always wanted more. The woman was never satisfied. More clothes, more jewelry, bigger parties. The cost of living is low here, Grace, but my finances aren’t unlimited.” He gave me what I guessed he thought was a pitiful look. I had never known how much he’d inherited from his parents, but I suspected it was a hefty sum. That along with the drug money should have been enough for two lifetimes in Ecuador. Tiny beads of sweat coated his thin upper lip. I was gratified at the knowledge my silence was getting to him.

  “Anyway, your sister became very critical of our lifestyle. I was patient. I understood she was homesick. She missed her family and friends. And, frankly, Grace, she was a wreck over her relationship with you.”

  There it was. Ben was going to shift the blame for Stella’s death to me. Still, I kept silent. Now droplets of sweat gathered on his forehead.

  “The last year Stella became, for lack of a better word, completely irrational.” He gulped the rest of his second gin and tonic.

  “That’s two words, but, please, continue.”

  He held up his empty glass. “You know how I hate to drink alone, Grace. I insist you join me.”

  I sensed a threat in the invitation but needed him to keep drinking.

  “Juan,” he shouted. “Another round but make the lady’s vodka.”

  The young man brought the drinks so quickly I suspected he made Ben’s ahead of time. He served me first. I thanked him, and he responded with a shy smile and the briefest of eye contact. As he was delivering the gin and tonic, Ben knocked his hand and some of the drink sloshed onto the floor.

  “Goddammit, boy! Watch what you’re doing.”

  He apologized and scurried from the room. I double-checked the location of the vase before asking Ben to explain what Stella’s irrational behavior entailed.

  “Well, she would disappear for hours and hours without telling me where she was or when she was coming home. When I asked her about it, she’d give me one of her killer smiles and tell me she was reading at the beach or having lunch with a friend or surfing or some other shit, and lost track of time. Then she accused me of bullying her. She flew into uncontrollable rages. I was a little afraid of her, Grace.”

  He stood up and opened his arms to the panoramic view of sand and sea.

  “She had all this. And still couldn’t be happy. I was really worried, so I called a doctor friend of mine, a psychiatrist. He suggested she suffered from a dissociative disorder.” He slurred so badly through the diagnosis, I wondered just how much he had to drink before I arrived. “That’s when it became clear to me. Stella was a true sociopath. I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s the only thing that explains her behavior.” He stumbled back into his seat.

  “A sociopath, huh?” I gulped my vodka and tonic. “Elaborate, please. What about Stella screams sociopath?”

  He bobbed his head in an enthusiastic nod. “Everything, Grace. I mean, I never wanted to tell you, but your sister was the one who came on to me. She waited for me in my car after our dates. Scared the shit out of me, sitting there like a statue. Then she was all over me. I resisted for as long as I could. Our relationship meant everything to me. You know that, right?” He gave me his best sad smile.

  “Yeah, sure. Everything.”

  “I knew you’d understand. I told her to lay off. I didn’t want to crush her spirit, so I was very gentle. But that girl wouldn’t listen. Kept telling me how much better suited we were for each other. I still said no, but then you started planning the wedding. And, well, to be perfectly honest, you got so wrapped up in choosing flowers and dresses and caterers you neglected me.”

  I remembered those months. Days where I was constantly pulled between Mom and the bossy p
lanner and the rest of my life. Ben never offered to help. That was the bride’s responsibility, the price for snagging her man, he said. He also never complained that I was neglecting him.

  “I neglected you?” I repeated.

  “Right.” He nodded. “And Stella, well, she was there. And like the typical sociopath, she showed no guilt, no remorse. Blamed it all on you, Grace. Had me convinced you’d be better off without me, that you didn’t need me the way she did. She said all she wanted was to make me happy. She was very convincing.”

  If he hadn’t been so serious, I would have sworn he was being intentionally ironic. But he lacked the depth to appreciate irony. It was obvious he considered himself the wronged party. Then I remembered Stella’s words about seeing herself through someone else’s eyes. When she thought she lost me, she sought out my one true love—a man who actually was the perfect sociopath. When she looked in his eyes, she became a shallow, manipulative creature with the ability to lie and cheat to get whatever she wanted.

  But his mirror was different. It was like the House of Mirrors at the State Fair when Stella was eight and I was thirteen. She begged to go in, but I insisted on saving my ticket for something more exciting. The truth was I hated being trapped, surrounded by images of myself: some real, some distorted. I was terrified of being unable to find the way out, doomed to forever run into multiple versions of myself.

  Stella, however, had never been in a house of mirrors and was hell-bent on going even if it meant she had to go alone. When I heard her screaming, the carnival operator refused to let me in until I paid, but I brushed by him and raced to where she lay cowering in front of a monster-like image of herself. I guided her outside where the ticket-taker was muttering threats about calling the police. I ignored him and took her to buy cotton candy.

  Later, Stella told me she hadn’t been afraid of not being able to find her way out. She’d been frightened by the sight of her own face glowering at her, contorted into a mask of horror. She thought she was the monster in the mirror. It was only when I found her that she realized it was an illusion.

  If I’d come to visit her, I could have helped her see this luxurious home was her house of mirrors. And Ben was the monster.

  He interrupted my reverie. “It’s okay, Grace. You were young and in love. And Stella knew how to get her way.” He must have taken my lengthy silence as recognition and remorse over my callous behavior. “It must be true that everything happens for a reason. I hate Stella’s gone, but you’re here now, and we’re together just like old times. Sounds like fate to me.”

  I dug my nails into my palms to keep from leaping from the chair and scratching Ben’s eyes out. Then I took a deep breath in through my nose, out through my mouth. So far, it had been just like old times. Ben told me beautiful lies, and I smiled and listened while he manipulated me into compliance. The difference was I no longer pretended I believed they were true. Now, I would use them to get him to do what I wanted.

  “I’m not sure I believe in fate.” I shook my head sorrowfully. “But it is familiar, being here with you like this. Only there must be more to Stella’s death. Could she have gotten involved with something or someone dangerous? If I could find out the answers to those questions, I might be ready to move on with my life. And who knows what that would mean?” I pressed my arms together and leaned forward for maximum cleavage exposure.

  Ben set down his drink—the ultimate compliment—and focused his full attention on my chest. “There’s nothing I would like more than to find those answers. Anything, Grace, I’ll do anything to help you get past this tragedy and live your life again. Just tell me what to do.”

  Despite the Lifetime movie delivery, I thought he had convinced himself he had no part in Stella’s death. Whereas I compartmentalized emotional issues, he rewrote them. But I had to acknowledge that nagging notion in the back of my mind: Was it possible he hadn’t been the one with his hands around my sister’s neck?

  “Since I didn’t get to see her, I’ve been having trouble believing she’s gone. Could you request copies of any photos in the police report?”

  He frowned. “Boy, I wish I could help you with that, but I don’t believe there were any.”

  “That’s strange. My friend’s government contact said they always take photographs.”

  His arm jerked, and he dumped most of his drink in his lap. “Dammit! Juan, get in here with a goddamn rag and clean up this mess. And bring me another.” He stood and shook his hands, sending drops of gin and tonic into the air. The sunlight caught them and turned them into liquid dust motes.

  “Why the fuck would you do that?” He hissed at me through clenched teeth. “You’re stirring up shit you don’t understand. People could get hurt, and you could be one of them.” He took a step toward my chair.

  I should have shouted vase into my bosom, but I hadn’t finished.

  “Why would you worry about that if you had nothing to do with Stella’s death? And why did you have her body cremated so quickly? I know you’re hiding something. You might have been able to beat and bully Stella, but you’re not dealing with my sister anymore. You’re dealing with me.”

  I had planned on making a dramatic exit, but he made the mistake of grabbing my arm. I tried to break away, but he tightened his grip and leaned in close enough for me to feel the heat of his alcohol-infused breath.

  “With you,” he snarled, stroking my cheek. “When has that ever been a problem?” He moved his hand to the back of my neck and squeezed hard.

  I yanked myself from his grasp, removed the Mace from my purse, and sprayed it full force into his fat face. He fell backward and tumbled onto the floor, screaming and rubbing his eyes. Juan rushed into the room and stared at his boss, who was now writhing on the geometric pattern of the rug. Then the boy looked at me and smiled.

  “Por favor, Señorita. May I show you out?”

  We hustled down the long hallway, and he opened the door for me. I could hear Ben calling for him.

  “Thank you, Juan.” I listened to Ben’s continued screaming as it grew louder and louder. “You should go see about him. I wouldn’t want you to lose your job.”

  “I will be okay. Not so many people wish to work for Señor Wilcott,” he said. “And please,” he smiled again. “My name is Eduardo.”

  Chapter 21

  Pride and my poor choice of shoes forced me to maintain a brisk walk instead of a full-on sprint as I left the house. Harry pulled up seconds after I reached the car, and Justin leaped from the Bronco before it came to a stop. He met me halfway on the stone pathway.

  “What the hell!” he said, grabbing my shoulders. “So much for not doing anything crazy. What happened in there? The last thing we picked up was Ben saying you could get hurt. Then there was this awful, high-pitched screaming.”

  I gripped each of his forearms and freed myself. “We can talk about this later.”

  “If that asshole laid a hand on you,” he glared and took a step toward the house.

  “I’m fine, really. Let’s just go.”

  Ben stopped wailing and, while I doubted he had recovered enough to be a threat, I didn’t want to take any chances.

  Harry was by the Bronco. “You okay? Scared the hell out of us when we lost your mic.”

  I slipped my index finger inside my bra and searched for the tiny device. “Shit! It’s gone. It must have fallen out somewhere. I’m sorry. I’ll reimburse you for it.”

  “Money’s not the issue. Let’s just hope nobody finds it. Small as it is, that’s not too likely.” Then he laughed. “And if that was Ben caterwauling in the background, he won’t be in any shape to be looking for much of anything.”

  I assured them it was my ex’s agonized cries traili
ng me on my way to the car and urged that we leave. Harry took off, and Justin insisted on driving the rental back to the hotel. He gunned the engine, spewing dirt and gravel in our wake as we sped away. He didn’t speak until we reached the main road.

  “I’m really pissed. You were supposed to play the son of a bitch, not send him over the edge.”

  “Okay, it was stupid, but all I could think about was Stella stuck in that house with him. How helpless and alone she must have felt, knowing he could do whatever he wanted to and get away with it.”

  The adrenaline rush I experienced after hurrying down the hill had dissolved, and I began shaking. Recalling his slack-jawed shock when that first blast of Mace hit him made me laugh, a low-pitched chuckle quickly reaching a crescendo of hysterical giggles.

  “It’s not funny,” Justin said.

  I couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Shit!” He slowed the car. “I mean it! There’s no telling what he could have done to you.”

  Tears were streaming down my face. My laughter had turned to chest-rattling sobs.

  He stopped on the side of the road and leaned over the gear shift to pull me close.

  “It’s okay.”

  Only it wasn’t. Yes, I enjoyed seeing Ben rolling on the floor in agony. But I had blown any chance of sweet-talking information out of him and hadn’t even remembered to ask him about the stolen letters. Worse still, now he would be very unlikely to release Stella’s ashes, especially not to the woman who had not only caused him physical pain but had also humiliated him. I buried my head deeper into Justin’s chest.

  He kept his arms around me. “Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve known lots of guys like Ben, self-satisfied pricks who aren’t happy unless they’re in charge. No way would he ever do something that might make him lose the upper hand.” He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “But we’ll get him. I promise.”