But she wouldn’t fall. She edged down the walk until she came to the window outside Madison’s room. It was propped halfway open. Julia grasped the window sill and pushed upwards. Stuck. She gritted her teeth and pushed harder, and slowly, the stubborn window inched higher. When she’d raised it a full eighteen inches, Julia managed to wriggle into the room, feet first.
“Gaawwwd,” she groaned, falling in a heap onto the floor.
She was struck, instantly, by the clinical neatness of Madison’s room. In contrast to Julia’s own room, with its unmade bed, discarded magazines, empty soda cans, and clothes strewn haphazardly over every surface, Madison’s room reminded her of a nun’s cell. Or an army barracks.
The worn cotton sheets were pulled taut on the narrow iron bed, two pillows were stacked atop each other, the faded chenille bedspread was folded in a crisp rectangle at the foot of the bed. The nightstand held a lamp and a dog-eared paperback romance novel. The top of the wooden dresser was bare, except for a black vinyl zippered cosmetic case.
But a wooden chair beside the door held an open duffle bag, filled with a stack of neatly folded clothing. Madison hadn’t been lying about that, Julia thought. She really did intend to leave. And soon.
Julia opened the armoire door. A couple of inexpensive cotton sundresses and some blouses still hung there. Lined up on the floor were a pair of black canvas espadrilles, a pair of pink flip-flops, and the Louboutins. On the shelf sat a black leather laptop case. Julia tugged it down. She unzipped the case and lifted the computer out.
Julia stared down at the laptop. In the movies, the heroine always managed to power up the computer, figure out the passwords, and instantly uncover all the data locked within in a matter of seconds. But Julia’s knowledge of computers was mostly limited to reading her e-mails and playing games of Freecell when she was bored. She had neither the time nor the necessary expertise to unlock Madison’s secrets. Reluctantly, she slipped the computer back into the case and hefted it back onto the shelf. She tried sliding it all the way to the back of the shelf, but something was back there.
She grabbed the wooden chair and dragged it over to the armoire, climbing up to peer inside. She reached up to move aside whatever was at the back of the shelf. Her fingers closed on a stack of paper.
When she saw what she’d grabbed, Julia nearly fell off the chair. It was a stack of money. Hundred-dollar bills, bound by a paper bank wrapper. She took the laptop and set it down on the floor, and reaching in with both hands, grabbed an armload of similar money bundles. Thousands of dollars.
“Whoa,” Julia breathed. “What the hell are you into, Madison?” Her fingers itched to take all the bundles down, to count it and examine it, but there was no time for that. Hurriedly, she shoved the money to the back of the shelf, then set the laptop in front of it.
She closed the armoire door and moved quickly to the dresser. The drawers were half empty, the clothing within neatly folded and stacked. As Julia rifled through the clothing she reflected that for a person with all that money stashed in her closet, Madison’s clothes were appallingly cheap, most of them apparently purchased either at thrift or discount stores. So how did that jibe with the Prada pocketbook, the Louboutin sandals, and the honking big diamond ring?
Mildly disappointed that the dresser didn’t hold any more money, Julia searched the nightstand’s single drawer for more clues to the Madison puzzle, but all she found was a plastic bottle of aspirin.
Julia glanced around the room. There was nothing much else to search. She flopped down onto her belly and peered under the bed, halfway expecting to find another suitcase full of cash. But the only thing she found was a single white sock.
She scooted onto her knees, and as a last thought, did what they always do in the movies. She lifted the thin, worn mattress and ran her hand under the space between it and the box spring. When her fingertips closed on the cool, smooth, metal object there, her mouth went dry.
She pulled the object out and stared down at it. A gun! Julia knew a little bit about guns. Her father and brothers were hunters, stalking deer in the piney woods of Georgia and quail at a friend’s South Carolina plantation. This was a revolver, a Smith & Wesson. Her hands trembled badly as she fumbled with the barrel.
Briiing! Briinng! Startled, she dropped the revolver onto the bed. Her cell phone vibrated in its plastic holder at her waist.
She fumbled again, trying to get it out of the holder. The screen told her Ellis was calling.
Julia flipped it open.
“She’s coming!” Ellis whispered. “Madison just rode up on her bike. I made Dorie go out and stall her, but you know Madison isn’t chummy. Get the hell out of there!”
“Shit!” Julia said. “Do something. Anything. Keep her downstairs. Ellis—Madison’s got a gun under her mattress. And a shitload of money hidden in the back of her closet.”
“Oh my God,” Ellis breathed. “Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. She’s coming in the house. I think I’m gonna have a heart attack. Or pee my pants.”
“Don’t you dare!” Julia clicked the phone closed. She started to shove the revolver under the mattress, but then, thinking better of it, shoved it in the waistband of her shorts. She smoothed the rumpled bedcovers, then ran across the room, hoisted herself out the window, and closed the window back to its original position.
This time around, she didn’t linger long enough to consider the view, or the possibility of falling to her death. She scurried back inside the attic door, pulled it shut, and a moment later was taking the stairs, two at a time, back to her own bedroom on the second floor.
33
It was Dorie who saved the day. It was Wednesday, trash-pickup day, and even though they’d theoretically discarded Ellis’s chore chart, it was Dorie’s turn to take out the trash. She was just wheeling the overflowing plastic bin down to the curb, muttering to herself about certain people who couldn’t be bothered to separate recyclables from the real trash, when Madison came pedaling down the street towards the house.
And then, despite all her protestations to the contrary, she found herself an unindicted co-conspirator.
“Madison,” Dorie called, her mouth going dry with fear. “Hey! You’re up early today. How was the bike ride?”
Madison coasted up to where Dorie was standing and braked. “It was fine,” she said briefly. “I like to get out before all the tourists wake up and start clogging the roads with traffic.”
“How’s the ankle?” Dorie asked, glancing at Madison’s leg. It was neatly taped with the Ace bandage.
“It’s fine,” Madison said, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “Thanks to you and your ice and ibuprofen.”
She started to wheel away.
Dorie swallowed, trying to think of something to say, a way to stall Madison and keep her from going up to the house where Julia was, right now, rifling through Madison’s belongings.
“Do you like that bike?” Dorie asked. Dumb question. Really dumb question, but it was all she could think of. Could pregnancy really do this to a person? Could the baby growing inside her really be siphoning off all her normal intelligence? She remembered a couple of the teachers at school joking about the dumb stuff they’d done while they were pregnant. Mommy minds, they called it, and Dorie always thought they were exaggerating, but now she knew different. She was dumb, and she was pregnant, and yes, pregnant by her gay husband, which made her just too stupid to live.
“The bike’s all right,” Madison said. “It’s cheap, but it rides pretty good.”
“I’ve been thinking about buying myself a bike,” Dorie babbled. “It’s supposed to be such good exercise, everybody says. But God, I don’t think I’ve ridden a bike since I got out of college. I bet I wouldn’t even remember how.”
“Sure you would,” Madison said. “That’s why they always say what they say about riding a bike.”
“What do they say?” Dorie asked. She was blanking, she really was. This baby better be a friggin’ rocket scientist,
she told herself, because it had already sucked out every brain cell Dorie had ever possessed.
Madison shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. “People always say something easy is like riding a bike, because you supposedly never forget how to ride a bike.” She leaned closer and peered into Dorie’s eyes with something like concern.
“Dorie, are you all right? You seem kind of, uh, spacey this morning.”
“The teachers at school say it’s something to do with your elevated hormone levels,” Dorie explained. “Sharon? She’s teaches freshman English? She was pregnant last fall, and not once, not twice, but three different times she got me to give her a ride home from school, and then remembered that she’d actually driven to school that day. I had to turn right around and take her back to school to get her own car.”
“Yeah, that’s crazy,” Madison said. “Well, anyway, it’s just a temporary condition, right?”
“I certainly hope so,” Dorie said fervently. Madison was starting to walk her bike down the crushed-shell driveway. Dorie caught up with her. “So, we were just getting ready to go down to the beach. Supposed to be a beautiful day today. Not too humid. Anyway, not as humid as it gets in Savannah, which is, like, a million percent humidity. Maybe you could come hang with us at the beach today.”
“Maybe later,” Madison said. She stopped and turned towards Dorie. “Look, I know Julia told you guys about me. I’m sorry I lied to you. But I had my reasons. Anyway, not that it matters, because I’m leaving tomorrow, but I just wanted to tell you, you know, thanks. For letting me stay here. And everything.”
Impulsively, Dorie gave Madison a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “That morning we met, at that restaurant, I was really feeling pretty desperate. My sister flaked out on us, and I was so depressed and worried about money. I guess you thought I was some kind of nut, a perfect stranger, trying to rent you a room.”
“You were nice,” Madison said shyly. “And I’m sure Ellis and Julia—especially Julia—gave you some crap about renting to me without consulting them.”
“They were fine with it, once they got over the initial shock,” Dorie insisted. “They’re really not so bad, once you get to know them. I think they’d like you as much as I do if you’d let them, Madison. Or should I call you Maryn?”
“Doesn’t matter now, but I’ve kind of gotten to like being Madison.”
“What made you pick that name?” Dorie asked, again, trying desperately to stall.
“Remember that movie, Splash? Where Daryl Hannah plays the mermaid, and she rescues Tom Hanks from drowning and falls in love with him? And she names herself Madison, because she sees the street sign for Madison Avenue? That was my favorite movie as a kid,” Maryn said. “I named all my dolls Madison. I even named my kitten Madison.” She smiled wryly. “I guess I wasn’t a very imaginative kid.”
“I named my kitten Kitty,” Dorie said. “So, what does that tell you about me?”
“Tells me I hope you do better with this baby you’re having,” Maryn said, and they both laughed.
But now Maryn was walking towards the house again, picking up the pace, and Julia—oh God, she only hoped Julia had chickened out. Unlikely, knowing Julia.
“I wish you wouldn’t go,” Dorie said, meaning it more than the other woman could know. “I wish you’d stay here, and let us help you with whatever kind of trouble you’re having.”
“You can’t,” Maryn called over her shoulder.
“Get out, Julia,” Dorie thought. “Get the hell out. Now!” She turned around, walked back to the curb, and fetched the unwieldy trash bin, trundling it halfway back to the house when it struck her: “Mommy mind, my ass,” she grumbled, run-walking the still-full bin back towards the street because she had to pee. Again.
Ellis made an elaborate show of setting herself up on the beach, tilting her beach chair at what she thought would be her most flattering angle, slipping out of the filmy cover-up, and reclining facing the water. She did not allow herself to glance in the direction of the garage apartment. That would be just too obvious. Instead, she busied herself with her book and the cooler of cold drinks.
Dorie flopped down into her own chair and took the bottle of water Ellis offered. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Is Julia coming down?”
“In a minute,” Ellis said. “And when she gets down here, I am going to read her the riot act. You were right, Dorie. She had absolutely no business breaking into Madison’s room. I swear to God, when I saw her walking that bike down the driveway, I nearly had a myocardial infarction. I haven’t been that scared since your mom came home early from work that time we were seniors in high school and almost caught you and Kevin Boylan doing it on your dad’s Barcalounger.”
Dorie took a sip of water. “That wasn’t Kevin Boylan. It was Kieran, his older brother. And we weren’t technically doing it. Just messing around, as Kieran liked to say.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to explain the technicalities to Phyllis,” Ellis said. “It was bad enough that we’d cut school and I’d drunk half a bottle of Jägermeister and puked in the backseat of Willa’s Camry. And then here comes Phyllis, and I’m trying to act sober and tell her you had cramps so Miss Deal gave me permission to drive you home from school early. And the whole time I’m praying to the Baby Jesus that Kevin will get his pants on and get the hell out of your den before Phyllis asks where you are.”
“It was Kieran, not Kevin, wasn’t it?”
Ellis and Dorie looked up as Julia unfolded a quilt and spread it out on the sand beside them.
“I was just explaining that to Ellis,” Dorie said. “Kevin Boylan had terminal dandruff. I would never have let Kevin Boylan get to third base. I did have certain standards, you know.”
“Oh, please,” Julia said, dropping down onto the quilt. “Don’t talk to us about standards. We were there, remember? You only let Kieran get into your pants because he drove a cool car and you thought he’d invite you to all his fraternity parties at Georgia.”
“And you guys agreed to go along with our little party because you assumed I’d get you dates with his KA brothers,” Dorie said serenely. “And, if I recall correctly, Julia Capelli, you were the one who shoplifted that Jägermeister from Johnnie Ganem’s Liquor Store.”
“The beginning of a life of crime,” Ellis said somberly. She flicked her towel at Julia. “And you, you idiot, are never to pull a stunt like that again. Ever.” Ellis fanned herself. “My nerves can’t take the strain.”
“Your nerves,” Julia drawled. “What about mine? When I found all that loot stashed in the back of Madison’s closet? Not to mention the gun under her mattress.”
“What?” Dorie sat straight up on her lounge chair. “You are making that up.” She turned to Ellis. “Phyllis was right about one thing, though. Julia Capelli was, and still is, a bad influence.”
Julia did a cursory sign of the cross. “On my daddy’s grave. I’m telling you the truth. Madison must have, I don’t know, like, twenty thousand dollars in cash. Shoved to the back of the shelf in her armoire. But that’s not the scariest thing.” She plunged her hand into her beach bag and withdrew a menacing-looking black handgun.
“This,” she said triumphantly, “is what she had under her mattress. Now tell me again about poor, unfortunate, innocent Madison-slash-Maryn.”
Ellis and Dorie stared goggle-eyed at the gun, until Julia shoved it back into the bag.
“Is it real?” Dorie asked.
“Is it loaded?” Ellis demanded.
“Not anymore,” Julia said.
“You actually stole her gun?” Dorie groaned and shook her head.
“I did it for you guys,” Julia said. “Who knows what she planned to do with that gun?” She held out one hand. “Diet Coke, please. All this sleuthing has left me absolutely parched.”
“Oh my God,” Dorie said, still eyeing Julia’s bag. “Madison must be in awful trouble. Y’all, we have got to try to help her.”
When Julia
had finished her Diet Coke, and they’d made her recount the search and seizure of the contents of Madison’s room not once, but twice, the three women agreed that it was time to do something.
“She told me this morning, she’s leaving tomorrow,” Dorie pointed out. “So it’d be a waste of time to kick her out. Anyway, I don’t want to kick her out. I want to figure out how to help her.”
“Dorie,” Ellis said, sounding calmer than she felt. “You don’t help a woman who has a closet full of cash and a loaded weapon. You just keep out of her way.”
“Not happening,” Julia said, her voice low, as she nodded in the direction of the stairway from the dunes.
Madison, or Maryn, was steaming down the stairs, blood in her eyes.
She kicked her shoes off at the base of the steps and kept coming, until she was standing at the very edge of their little beach camp, a damp tank top clutched in her right hand.
“Hi, Madison,” Dorie attempted.
“You bitches!” Madison spat the words. “I knew moving in here was a mistake. Knew you’d never trust me and that I could never trust any of you.”
Madison stood, hands clenched on her hips, staring down at Julia. “You’ve got some goddamn nerve, breaking into my room,” she said. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
Julia’s complexion paled a little under her tan. She propped herself up on her elbows. “What are you talking about? Me? Why would I be interested in your room?”
“I don’t know why,” Madison snapped. “Maybe because you’re a pathetic loser, with no life of your own, so you have to go snooping around in mine?”
“I resent that,” Julia said.
“Fuck you,” Madison said. She glanced over at Dorie and gave her an even more withering look. “And you. With all that phony bullshit compassion, telling me you want me to stay. All the while you’re really just stalling me so I won’t catch that one in the act of burglarizing my room.”
“It wasn’t phony!” Dorie blurted out. “I mean, yes, I was stalling you, because I didn’t want you to catch Julia. But I meant what I said. And I mean it even more now. Julia told us about the money.”
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