MOSTLY MURDER: Till Death: a mystery anthology

by Lawrence Block

  “Yeah. Wanted to try and get the yard mowed before it rained again.”

  “Good idea.”

  Mary filled her own mug, adding large amounts of sugar and cream before turning to face her husband. She held the mug close, smelling the dark aroma, watching him, wondering just what was going through his mind. He didn’t seem nervous. In fact, he seemed fairly relaxed and normal. But, then again, by the end of her own affair, it had become such an everyday thing that it had started to seem normal. Guilt and regret were no longer dominating her thoughts.

  “So, I was thinking,” Mary said, finally. “I’m kind of ready for a new car.”

  David’s eyes shot up to meet hers. He seemed to study her for a moment. “A new car?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a little while, and I’m sure we’re pretty close to paying off the Ford. I really miss my Tahoe. Maybe we could trade the car in or something and find me another one.”

  David held her gaze for a minute, then took another sip of coffee. “We still have another two years to pay on the Ford.”

  Mary shrugged, trying to keep her tone light. “I know, I just figured, maybe we can go look. Maybe I could run to the bank and see what they can do for us.”

  “No,” David said, a little too forcefully. He paused a moment, then continued. “I mean, yeah, that’s an idea. I’m just not sure we can afford the payment right now.”

  Mary let her shoulders drop. “It’s just that my back is really starting to act up in that thing. I think the Tahoe would be much more comfortable and better for my back.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Mary considered him for a moment, wisps of steam curling up between them. She could probably push this further, but part of her really wanted to catch them red-handed. She wanted to see the look on that bitch’s face when she found them. She would bide her time, although it was killing her.

  David arched an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Nothing, forget it, it’s nothing.” Mary heard the words she said, but didn’t agree with them. A second later she said, “It’s just—”

  A particularly high-pitched version of Thunderstruck by ACDC echoed around the kitchen, making them both start. David cursed and fished the phone from his pants pocket. He frowned, checking the caller ID, then gave Mary a furtive look and moved into the living room as he answered.

  “Hello?”

  Mary waited until he rounded the corner, then quietly stood and moved to the doorway, holding her breath as she listened. That woman sure has some balls to call the house, especially when she knows I’m here.

  “Yeah, Dan, what’s up?” There was a pause. “No, I told you… I don’t… of course I’m worried about that… No she doesn’t…” He groaned. “Fine. Fine. But after this… yeah. Bye.”

  Mary dashed back to the counter, bumping the table as she went. David’s mug rattled, spilling coffee onto the checkered tablecloth.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as he came back in.

  “Dan,” David said, pointing to the phone. “Needs me to take a load up to Salina, rush job.”

  “What the hell, David,” she said. “It’s your day off. It’s his company, let him handle it.”

  “He’s the boss, that’s not his job.”

  “But it’s your day off!”

  David held his hands up in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry. It won’t take very long. It’s a short hop up to Salina and back, shouldn’t take more than a few hours. Maybe we can go to dinner or something later.”

  “Ugh, you always do this. You always say maybe we can do something later and we never end up doing anything!”

  “Look, Mary, I’m sorry. It’s my job. I can’t just tell the guy no, he’s my boss.”

  “Which, obviously, is more important than your wife.”

  “Oh, come on, now you’re just being dramatic.”

  Mary pushed herself off the counter. “Dramatic? I’m dramatic? Because I want to spend time with my husband, I’m being dramatic? Fine, just do whatever the hell you want to do, you always do anyway.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me? I work my ass off twenty-four-seven and what the hell have you done?” David shouted, moving around her. He snatched up his thermos and opened the back door. “Oh, that’s right. All you did was fuck your doctor.”

  The door slammed, leaving Mary alone in the quite kitchen, mouth open, shocked. Blood pounded in her ears as she replayed what he’d said over and over. David hadn’t mentioned the affair in almost a year, not since the last therapy session when he’d finally been able to say, “I forgive you.” Hell, even during the thick of it, he’d never come out right and said anything about it like that. Never those words.

  He’d always been a loving, caring husband. She’d remembered his face when the medics were loading her up into the ambulance. Even with all the chaos going on around her, his words kept her going, made her feel safe.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  When she’d learned about the damage to her spine, learned that she would need surgery to repair it, his words got her through it.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  Even after. When she’d finally confessed about the affair with the doctor. Told him she didn’t know why it happened, it just kind of… happened. Told him about how she had been vulnerable, and in pain, and the doctor had seemed to offer solace and healing. And even love. Told him how she was so, so sorry.

  Even after all that, he’d still been there.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  And now, today, after everything she’d seen in the last two days, she wasn’t quite sure that it could ever be okay again.

  Seven

  Her blood boiled. She wanted to scream at him for being a worthless, insensitive asshole. Tell him what a piece of shit he was. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was right. She’d done a terrible thing and he’d stood by her. He’d supported her and loved her. He’d put in untold hours driving to all four corners of the country, trying to earn enough money to keep them afloat. She’d insisted on returning to work, but David had refused.

  “You’ve been through enough,” he’d said. “You need time to recover and heal.”

  But money wasn’t the only thing she needed. She needed him, too. She wanted to hold him again, to feel him close.

  “Son of a bitch,” she muttered. Thoughts of holding him brought back the scene from the truck stop, and that Blue Bitch. Her anger and rage washed back over her like a flood.

  David might have been loving and caring, at one time, but none of that mattered now. How could it matter when he was leaving everyday to go be with her? For a brief second, Mary could imagine that David had experienced these same feelings after he discovered the affair. But it didn’t matter what he’d thought, or how he’d felt—because now he was the one betraying their vows. It wasn’t like he got a free pass just because she’d made a mistake.

  Filled with a new determination, Mary picked up the phone, surprised that she remembered the number, and dialed. After two rings a woman, who sounded overly happy and thrilled to be working this early in the morning, answered.

  “Lawrence and Son’s Freightlines, Amenia speaking, how can I direct your call?”

  “Dan Lawrence, please.”

  “Just one moment.”

  The line clicked over and for the second time in as many days, Mary was left listening to elevator music. As she listened to the tinny excuse for a classical score, she went over exactly what she was going to say to David’s boss, preparing just the right words and arguments. A moment later, the line clicked again and a man’s voice came through the receiver.

  “This is Dan.”

  Mary forgot her well planned verbal attack and said, “You’re a real piece of work, Dan! I know that David isn’t the only driver you have on stand by. It’s his day off, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Whoa, whoa, hold on. Mary, is that you?”

  “Oh, come on, you know damn well who this is, and I’m
tired of you constantly sending David out. He has plenty of responsibilities besides hauling loads for you.”

  “Mary, I—”

  “Don’t feed me any shit, either, I’m not in the mood at all.”

  “Now, hold on a minute, Mary. Slow down. What’s going on?”

  Mary took a breath, collecting herself. “I want to know why you keep sending my husband out on all these last minute hauls.”

  “David?”

  “Oh, for shit’s sake, yes David. He hasn’t had a day off in over three weeks.”

  Dan hesitated. “Mary, I… I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Dan, you know damn well what I’m talking about. You just called him in not ten minutes ago.”

  The voice on the other end stammered slightly. “Mary, I—I’m sorry, but I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. David hasn’t worked for me in over six months.”

  Eight

  Mary’s mouth opened, but the vicious retort she’d prepared caught in her throat. She stared at the phone, looking at the number, assuring herself she’d dialed correctly.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Mary, is everything okay?”

  “You’re lying,” she said again, mind racing. “You called him. I’ve seen the numbers on his phone, seen the money deposited in our accounts. Hell, I’ve even seen his log books.”

  “Honestly, Mary,” Dan said. “I’m sorry, but David hasn’t worked here in months. I had to let him go, he missed too much work. I wanted to keep him on, honest. I tried my best, but he just missed too many days. Corporate initiated the termination. Said they had to fill the spot with someone who’d show up and drive.”

  “Impossible,” Mary said. “Yeah, he missed a few days here and there, but he’s never stopped driving. Dan, you called him just this morning.”

  “I promise you I didn’t.”

  “Okay, Dan, if he’s not working for you, who’s he been hauling for?”

  “Look, Mary, he’s not hauling for us. Maybe he’s doing some freelance work, I don’t know. Maybe you should take that up with him.”

  Mary stared out the kitchen window, at the empty place in the drive where David parked his rig. Trying to make sense of it all. Why would Dan lie to her? Hell, why would David lie to her?

  “Mary?”

  She hung up without another word.

  Nine

  She didn’t know exactly how long she’d been driving, didn’t know why she’d even started in the first place, but she found herself pulling into the Flying J all the same. She drove past the semis, parked in a row behind in the back. David’s rig was nowhere to be found, but, then again, she hadn’t expected it to be there.

  She stopped near the diner’s entrance, looked in at the people eating, and thought back to their first date. She could still smell the French toast, could practically taste it. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten yet. What the hell. She didn’t know what to do next… she didn’t even know where he was. She wasn’t ready to call him—something in her knew he would just stonewall again—lie through his teeth. She had to come up with a plan to force him to be honest with her about the car, the woman… and the six months of living some kind of fake life. Maybe some food would help her think.

  She found a seat at one of the booths next to the window. A second later the waitress, an older woman with greying hair, appeared next to her, smiling. The nametag above her pocket said Beth.

  “Can I get you anything, hun?”

  “I think some French toast.”

  Beth’s smile faded momentarily. “Oh, I’m sorry hun, we’ve just run out of that.”

  “Of course,” Mary muttered.

  “Can it get you anything else?”

  Frustrated, Mary waved a hand through the air. “No, thanks. Just coffee.”

  The woman away and an idea struck Mary. “Wait.”

  Mary fumbled with her phone, brought up Facebook and scrolled until she found what she was looking for. She held it up for Beth to see. “Have you ever seen this man before?”

  Beth slipped her half-moon glasses up over her nose and studied the image. “Who? David? Of course I do. Such a sweetie.”

  Mary’s stomach turned. “What do you mean of course?”

  “Comes in all the time. Coffee, lots of cream, and coconut cream pie.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Usually comes in with his sister…” she looked up, through the window lost in thought. “Mira, I think. Is that right? Mira?”

  Mary’s heart pounded in her chest. Her teeth clenched together, Mary felt her grip tightening on the phone, threatening to crack it.

  “Are you okay?”

  Mary shook herself. Get yourself together. “Fine. Mira; shorter gal, dark brown hair, kind of skanky looking?”

  Beth’s eyebrows rose, as if she’d just made a very important connection. She took her glasses off, let them hang from the strap around her neck and looked down the bridge of her nose at Mary. “Not his sister then.”

  “Not his sister,” Mary repeated.

  “Huh,” Beth said, dropping down into the booth opposite Mary. “Well, that certainly explains a few things.”

  “Oh?”

  “There was just always… something off about them, I guess. Now that I think about it, they were always looking around, like they were looking for someone. You know?”

  “How often did they come in together?”

  “Oh,” Beth drew out the word and looked up, as if the answer to Mary’s question was written on the ceiling. “Probably every few days or so. Came in this morning, matter of fact. Sat right over there.”

  Mary glanced in the direction she indicated. “They were here today?”

  “Yep, came in around eight or so, didn’t stay very long. Thought I heard them talking about the Kite Flyer, but I could be wrong. These things aren’t what they used to be,” Beth said, pointing to her ears.

  Mary straightened. “What’s the Kite Flyer?”

  “Old rest stop about forty miles north of here. Been out of business for years, nothing up there now but dirt roads and farmland.”

  Ten

  The Kite Flyer wasn’t just old and abandoned; it almost didn’t exist anymore. The sign, an old metal statue of a kite flying above the building, had completely rusted over. Mary was surprised it was still standing.

  As Mary pulled into the lot, a lump grew in her throat. She couldn’t decide if she was more angry or afraid. There was no sign of David’s rig or the black Tahoe she’d seen the day before. A single dirt road led away from the station to the West, vanishing in the hazy distance.

  Well, you’ve come this far, Mary thought.

  She pulled onto the dirt road and headed west. Seven miles down the road a row of trees appeared, running the length of the road, which elbowed to the left and up to an old white farmhouse. The whole scene was like something out of a movie; wide front pouch, white wood siding, small windows. Several large trees surrounded the place; one even had a rope swing hanging from its branches. Two outbuildings flanked the house and there was a small carport and a large red barn on the far side.

  Mary’s breath caught in her throat when she caught sight of the familiar air dam poking up from behind the barn, the red, white and blue letter “D” obvious and undeniable. Her stomach turned despite herself and she looked in the rearview mirror. She could still turn back—it wasn’t too late yet. She could turn around and go home and forget this whole thing had ever happened. Pretend everything was still okay.

  No, Mary told herself. Can’t turn back now.

  With a deep calming breath, she climbed out of the car and started for the house. She jogged along the row of evergreens, searching for any sign of her husband and that bitch in the blue dress.

  What color are you wearing today, you little slut?

  Inside the carport, she found two Tahoes, parked side by side, one black and one blue. The blue one b
ore a 60-day temporary tag. The words Central Plains National Bank were printed along the top of the tag. She was positive that the woman had been driving the black one back at the Flying J. But who was driving the blue one?

  She moved quietly up to the house, watching and listening. It looked like all the windows on the ground level were open, and as she got closer she thought she heard something. A second later she stopped dead in her tracks, realizing what she was hearing.

  A woman was moaning, loudly. And not from pain, but with pleasure.

  Blood pounding in her ears, Mary tiptoed closer, trying to get a look through one of the windows. It was dark inside the house, and apart from the outlines of furniture and interior walls, she couldn’t see much of anything else. She kept moving, trying to get a better view inside. Finally, at the window just past the end of the porch, she got one. She steeled herself and looked in.

  The woman’s back was to Mary. Her skirt was lifted, and she was astride the man who sat on the couch in the middle of the room. The urge to vomit crept up into Mary’s throat. She stood there, paralyzed, watching the couple go at it.

  “Stand up,” the male said, his breath ragged.

  Mary inched back around the window frame, then peered over the edge. The woman climbed off, flicking her long, blonde hair back, and gave Mary her first view of the man. Mary let out a clipped gasp and turned away from the window, hand covering her mouth.

  It wasn’t David.

  Eleven

  What the hell is going on?

  Mary backed away from the window. Where was David? He had to be there; she’d seen his rig.

  She moved around to the back toward the large barn she’d seen from the road. A shout of ecstasy drew her attention to an open door on the back of the house, propped open by an old, worn-out tire.

  Muddy footprints led up a short set of stairs and into the house. Mary was wrestling with the realization of how dangerous it would be to try to get inside when something in the grass glinted in the sunlight, drawing her attention.