Deceived

by James Scott Bell

  Liz said nothing. Waited for him to play this out.

  He looked at her and said, “I also found out something about myself over these last couple of years.” He took a step toward her. “I found out I can do things I never thought possible. Really mean things. I found out I can do anything I set out to do, solve any problem, take care of any people who stand in my way. And not lose a single night’s sleep over it.”

  “You’re right, Bill,” she said, standing. “I am interested.”

  He paused and studied her face. “You wouldn’t just be saying that to fool me now, would you?”

  “Oh, I know I can’t do that,” Liz said. “And I’m not going to just roll over and give up the gems. But we can work together. On my terms.”

  10:53 a.m.

  Rocky watched as the woman made her way up to where the deputy sheriff stood. She held a notebook. She said something to the deputy, who looked around one more time. Then the two of them walked back toward the parking lot.

  Now what were they up to? Why be out here looking around at an accident scene after the funeral? Did they have suspicions of some kind?

  She waited a couple of minutes before moving. She figured that the area where the deputy was standing was the crest where Arty fell. She’d be able to follow the sight line down. She could do a CSI: Miami and play David Caruso now. All she needed was designer shades and a too-cool-for-school voice.

  What if it wasn’t an accident? What if there had been a fight or something? Was Liz capable of cold-blooded killing?

  It didn’t have to be cold-blooded. What if they were arguing, and Liz just got mad? Certainly she was capable of that.

  What if she killed him and then dragged his body to that spot, so it looked like he fell?

  Thoughts were jumbling around as she pushed herself up on the boulder in front of her, stood, wiped her hands. She had a couple of choices. Go back the way she came and start down from the deputy’s vantage point. Or try making her way across the rocky divide, going directly from point A to point B.

  She chose the latter. That way, she could scan the perimeter. See if there was any sign of blood or torn clothes or any other CSI stuff.

  She almost laughed at that but didn’t, because she almost slipped. Careful now, she thought. You don’t need any sprained ankles here.

  Start looking.

  11:01 a.m.

  It all came down to choices, Liz thought.

  Her first choice involved the man named Bill, standing there, considering her proposition, not even realizing what she’d chosen. Thinking fast, she’d laid out a plan mainly to stall him, but it was good enough to get him to pause. And gave her control of the situation.

  She had learned how to do this from the best. From Mama.

  Especially after what Mama had to do to Miller Jones.

  Liz was thirteen when her mama married Jones. Her real father, Les Summerville, was doing hard time in Holman, and Mama had long before secured a divorce. That left the door open for Jones.

  He had hair that smelled of cooking grease. He cooked for Rob-bie’s, the coffee shop at the edge of town, across from the Tote-Sum convenience store where Liz bought Coca-Colas on hot summer days.

  Mama started taking Liz to Robbie’s, first once, then twice a week. Jones would smile at her. Liz liked him because he could crack eggs two at a time, one in each hand. And then he started coming to visit the trailer where she and Mama lived.

  Miller Jones liked to laugh and even brought Mama flowers once. Liz was glad when they got married at a little office across the county line.

  Her stepfather came to live with them in the trailer. It made things a little tight, but that was just the way life was. The place started to smell different, too. Man smells. The grease, the bourbon, the sweat.

  He never did give Mama a diamond ring like she wanted. Liz knew that could only mean bad luck.

  And then one night Miller Jones came to Liz. It was when Mama was working late at the shop, doing the books. Liz got to watch TV and Miller Jones sat in his chair, not saying anything, pouring himself drinks from a bottle. He’d drink them right down without ice or anything.

  Liz got up to go to bed and Miller Jones said, “Ain’t you got a kiss for your daddy?”

  She didn’t want to give him one. She liked him all right, but it didn’t seem like the time was right yet for kisses. Maybe later. So that’s what she said.

  “Maybe later.”

  “Come on,” he said, “I’m your daddy now, and daddies get kisses from their little girls.”

  “I have to go pee,” Liz said, and hurried to what they called the bathroom. She closed the door and did her business. Then she flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and almost ran to her bed, hoping that would be the last of it.

  She drew the curtain that was her door and listened.

  Miller Jones didn’t say anything more.

  Relieved, Liz got into her jammies and into bed and started to fall asleep.

  He came in like a ghost, like he’d passed right through the curtains. He was a shadow with the light behind him. She could smell the bourbon on his breath. It was as strong as truck exhaust.

  He came to the bed and sat on it.

  “You like your new daddy?” he said.

  “Uh-huh,” Liz said. She tried to hold her breath so she wouldn’t smell him.

  “That’s real good. I want you to like me. I want it very much.” He leaned over then and she felt his weight on her as he kissed her cheek. His whiskers scratched her.

  He didn’t get back up.

  Or move. He just breathed, loud and snorty, lying across her. His weight pressing down more and more.

  “I can’t . . . breathe,” she said.

  Miller Jones said nothing.

  He didn’t move, she realized, because he was asleep. Asleep in that way he got when he had a lot to drink.

  She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed, but he was like a sack of wet clothes.

  She had to wriggle out from under him. It took her almost a whole minute, but finally she was free. Leaving Jones on top of her bed, snoring.

  Liz used her feet. She pushed him and rolled him over. He clunked on the floor. And didn’t wake up.

  She took her blanket and pillow, went out to the couch, and fell asleep there.

  Mama woke her up.

  “What happened?” Mama said. There was fire in her eyes like Liz had never seen.

  Liz told her mama what happened.

  That night the shouting started. Liz was scared. She never knew her mama could shout that loud or say those things.

  Miller Jones stumbled out of her room and Liz ran back in, covering her head with a pillow as the yelling went on and on.

  In the morning, Mama had a big blue mark under her right eye. Miller Jones was off to work at Robbie’s. And Mama asked her: “You know what lyin’ is, baby?”

  “Course,” Liz said.

  “What do you know about it?”

  “Not supposed to do it.” Liz thought she’d been caught in a lie by her mother but just didn’t remember which one.

  “But it’s all right to lie when you have to,” Mama said.

  That seemed right.

  “Sometimes you got to lie to help the ones you love, right?”

  Liz nodded.

  “You remember that, now. I’m counting on you. You need to show Mama how much you love her.”

  “I will Mama. I’ll show you.”

  But she couldn’t know then just how much she’d have to show. Not until the bad thing happened and the whole town yapped about it, not until then would she know.

  Liz had all of it roiling in her mind as she faced the man named Bill in the house in Pack Canyon.

  She had shown Mama, and now she would show her again.

  Just how and when would have to be worked out.

  “I don’t know if I like it,” Bill said, pulling Liz back to the moment. “No, I am not getting a good feeling here.”

  “Bu
t I am the only one who knows where the rocks are,” Liz said.

  “It’s almost like we’re stuck with — ”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  11:02 a.m.

  I shouldn’t have come here, Ted thought. Shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have.

  But he had to see her. His need was a burning inside him. He knew he was teetering on the edge. She had wrapped herself around his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He knocked again. Her car was in the driveway. She was home, or was visiting somewhere and would soon be home. He was not going to leave until he saw her and gave her the package he held in his hands.

  What if she told him to take a hike?

  He’d cross that bridge whenever. As long as she didn’t blow the bridge up, there was hope. If it blew up, went away, he didn’t know what he’d do.

  Maybe blow himself up with it.

  11:03 a.m.

  “What do you want me to do?” Liz said.

  “Don’t answer it,” Bill said.

  “But it might be somebody from the church.”

  “So?”

  “They’re dropping by to look in on me.”

  “You don’t have to be home.”

  “My car is in the driveway. People know I’m home.”

  Another knock. Liz took a step toward the door. Bill put his hand out and stopped her.

  “Just let it go,” he said.

  The knocking stopped. The pair stood in silence a moment, then through the lace curtains Liz saw a figure sit down on the porch bench.

  “What’s going on?” Bill said.

  “They’re waiting for me.”

  He looked at her, ice in his eyes. “Who is it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “This is where I shine,” Bill said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll do exactly what I say. First of all, look out the curtain and see if you recognize who it is. Do that now.”

  Liz hesitated. Bill raised his hands in frustration, then drew his index finger across his throat. As in, That’s what’ ll happen if you don’t do what I say.

  “All right,” Liz said. “Just stay cool.”

  11:04 a.m.

  Ted felt a wonderful sensation of fear, anticipation, and lust.

  He felt alive. No matter what happened, this was worth it. He was going to go for it. He was going to go for something without thinking or pausing or being rational about it. For once in his life, he would go for it running on all cylinders, because maybe this was the last time he would have the chance to get what he really wanted.

  And he really wanted her.

  He set the small package in its plain brown wrapper on the bench next to him, crossed his legs, and looked at the front yard. He took in a deep breath of eucalyptus and dried grass.

  She needed him. Like the dry grass needed water. She just didn’t know it. He had saved her. She needed him then. She needed him now.

  And he had to get to her before some other guy did.

  You didn’t get the chance to comfort a widow very often, especially one this . . . what was the word? Hot didn’t do it, because she was more than that.

  He heard the door open.

  And she was there.

  His pulse took off in a sprint as he stood up. “Oh, you’re here.”

  “I thought I heard somebody knocking,” she said. “I was sleeping.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “No, no, it’s okay. Is there something you wanted?”

  “I just came by to see if there was anything you needed, see if you needed anything from the store, or anything” — stop saying anything! — “or anything like that.”

  In his imagination he kicked himself.

  “I’m fine,” she said, but she seemed to hesitate. Or was he just reading between the lines?

  She looked vulnerable.

  She looked wounded.

  She looked soft and warm.

  “I brought you something,” Ted said quickly. He picked up the package, almost dropped it, secured it with both hands.

  She looked at the gift.

  “It’s just a little something,” he said, “to kind of put a smile on your face.”

  He went to her. She was standing just outside the door. The door was open a crack. Ted looked at the crack as if it were the secret tunnel to a pot of gold.

  “Let me show you,” he said, and before she could do anything he pushed through the door.

  He thought, This is too much, too fast. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t back down now.

  He only stopped when he saw the man standing in the middle of the hallway.

  11:06 a.m.

  Rocky almost fell. Again. She put her hand out to the side, flat against a large boulder. That steadied her, though she had to bend almost double to keep from diving into a cleft.

  Ridiculous, she thought. Quit making like a mountain goat, will you? Just get to the other side without an accident and —

  She looked down in the cleft and saw something that was not part of the natural landscape.

  It wasn’t exactly trash. It wasn’t like a soda can or the sort of litter one usually finds in hiking locales.

  What it looked like, she thought, was half a cell phone.

  11:07 a.m.

  Ted didn’t know what to do.

  He felt like a complete idiot, a moron.

  Another man was in the house with her.

  Wait. Liz had said she was sleeping. Was she sleeping with this guy?

  Did I just walk into a little love nest? Am I the king of all doofuses?

  Ted’s stomach did a swan dive into a gravel pit.

  “How you doin’?” the man said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say under the circumstances.

  Ted didn’t answer. He heard Liz close the door.

  “My name’s Bill,” the man said. “Liz’s cousin.” He stepped forward with his hand out.

  Ted almost cried out with joy. A relative! A family member come to help Liz through this terrible, challenging time. Just like Ted! This man was not an interloper. He was not a rival.

  Ted’s stomach pulled out of the pit and settled. He shook the man’s hand. “I’m Ted Gillespie. Great to meet you.” Hey. Bill and Ted. This is an excellent adventure!

  Don’t be a nerd.

  “Friend of the family?” the man named Bill said.

  “I hope so,” Ted said. He looked at Liz. She smiled at him. His heart thumped faster.

  “Well that’s just fine,” Bill said. “What have you got there?”

  The package. Ted had completely forgotten. “Oh yeah,” he said, “a little gift. I thought Liz would like it.”

  “Well that’s very neighborly of you, Ted,” Bill said. “Let’s have a look.”

  “Sure.” Ted handed the package to Liz.

  She took it, looking a little unsure of what to do. So sweet, Ted thought. What a gentle spirit she has about her. What would it be like to be married to a woman like this?

  He could only hope. His last, best hope.

  She tore off the brown paper. Then opened the white box. Took out the item.

  “A clock?” Liz said.

  “A Winnie the Pooh clock,” Ted said. “I thought you’d like it. It’s sort of a fun thing, you know? And when it ticks, he moves his honey jar.”

  For a long moment nobody said anything.

  Then Bill said, “Did you notice Elvis over there?”

  Ted cleared his throat. Bill was smiling, but his question seemed a little accusatory. Or was it just his imagination? “Yes, that’s sort of why I thought Liz might like this one, too.”

  “The battle of the clocks, eh?” Bill said. “Winnie the Pooh versus Elvis?”

  Ted tried a little chuckle. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Silence.

  “Well that is just a very thoughtful thing,” Bill finally said. “A really thoughtful thing to do. Ted, thank you very much.”

  “Yes,” Liz said. “That was ver
y thoughtful.”

  Yes! He was thoughtful. He was advancing. Good move. The Pooh clock was a very good move. He was on the upswing.

  “Thanks so much for coming by,” Bill said.

  “Would you like something to drink, Ted?” Liz said.

  “Sure!”

  “Honey, we have to get going,” Bill said. “Remember? We don’t have much — ”

  “Just one drink, to say thank you,” Liz said. “It’s only right, since he took the trouble. As I remember it, Ted, you like ginger ale.”

  “That’s right,” Ted said.

  “We’ll have to make it quick, Liz,” Bill said.

  “You all sit down and get to know each other,” Liz said, scooting into the kitchen.

  Ted looked at Bill, who looked at Ted. Ted scratched his leg. His new Dockers were starting to itch. Bill said, “So I guess we should sit down.”

  They did.

  “What’s your line of work?” Bill said.

  “I’m sort of looking right now,” Ted said.

  “Ah, footloose and fancy free.”

  “What do you do, Bill?”

  “Me? I’m an accountant.”

  “Really? Now that’s funny. I guessed that. You look like an accountant.”

  “Do I now?”

  “Uh-huh. I sort of have a way like that. I can get pretty close to guessing what a person does.”

  “Well, that’s just a great skill you have there, Ted. A really great skill.” Bill looked toward the kitchen. “You about ready, Liz?”

  Liz said, “Be right out.”

  “She’s handling this pretty well,” Ted said, just above a whisper.

  “Handling what?” Bill said.

  “Her husband’s death.”

  “Oh right. Yes. Of course. What was I thinking?”

  Ted sort of wanted to know that himself. Was Bill thinking of running interference for Liz? Keeping Ted away from her? Maybe that was why Bill was trying to hustle him out. Maybe there wasn’t any real rush at all to go anywhere with Liz.

  “Where do you hail from, Ted?”

  “My dad was Air Force,” Ted said. “We moved around a lot.”

  “What was your favorite place?”