by Sheryl Lynn
“That’s awful. What are you going to do?”
“No, no,” Easy muttered. “Make him talk about the policy. Come on!”
“I’ve thought about leaving town. Starting over somewhere else.”
“No, you have to stay and fight. You can’t let him ruin you.”
“What can I do, darling? Even you, the woman I love, believed him over me.”
“No, I didn’t! I swear. I was confused, yes, and curious, but now that I know thetruth, I want to help you. Suppose I speak to her brother for you? I can show him the insurance policy and the funeral costs, and he’ll have to understand you had no reason to hurt Roberta.”
“He’s crazy. It won’t work.”
“Then what about my father? He’s a well-respected attorney. He handles civil cases similar to this all the time. Trust me, if he speaks to that man, that man will listen.”
“And have your father thinking his future son-in-law is a wimp?”
“Then we’ll hire another attorney. We’ll get a restraining order.”
“It won’t work, Catherine. Don’t you understand? Tupper would kill me if he had the guts.”
“It doesn’t take guts to kill!” John shook a fist at the tape recorder. “Liar!”
“Shh.” Easy adjusted the volume. Catherine sounded as if she chewed gravel.
“It’s okay, John.” Trish kept patting his arm.
Easy regretted John’s presence. The man kept a fairly cool head, considering the circumstances, but listening to his sister’s killer twist the truth could very well push him over the edge.
Jeffrey spoke to another man. Easy shut off the recorder to conserve tape. He settled back to wait until Catherine began speaking again. When she did, he activated the tape recorder.
“Tell me exactly what happened. All the newspaper stories said is that she fell. Surely there was someone around who can say it was an accident”
“It was an accident. She was drunk and she slipped. End of story.”
“Don’t be angry, darling,” Catherine soothed. “I’m trying to help. Unless some evidence actually exists, no one can hurt you. Are the police investigating?”
John flung himself back on the seat and the car rocked slightly with the force of his movement “He’ll never confess.”
“Give her time,” Easy said. “I can almost hear his gears grinding while he cooks up a way to use her. We’ve already caught him in about fifty lies.”
“You don’t understand how he operates. I wouldn’t put it past him to bribe a witness to say I pushed her.”
“Stop being so pessimistic. You’re the one with the evidence. Surely Roberta had pawn-shop receipts to show she sold her mother’s belongings. The insurance policy proves how much money you received. You have reports from the rehabilitation centers, right? Doctors or psychologists who can testify about her self-destructiveness?” Catherine said.
“I tried to get her into rehab,” Livman replied testily. “I never said she actually went.”
“What about her friends or former employers. Surely they—”
“Why are you going on and on about this? I thought you were on my side?”
Again, crackling pinged at Easy’s ears. He wondered if she were scratching or fiddling with the microphone.
“I am on your side. All I’m saying is, if this Mr. Tupper is intent on doing you damage, then you must fight back.”
“I won’t lower myself to his level.”
“What about me?” A long pause was punctuated by the waiter filling glasses and the sound of chewing. Finally, she continued. “What about me, Jeffrey? Our relationship looks bad. Roberta’s accident happened only a month before we met. Does her brother believe you and I were involved while you were married?”
“So what if he does?”
“It’s bad enough you concealed your past from me. Now you’re—”
“Talk about something else.”
“No. You’re my fiancé. I have to right to know what’s going on with you.”
“Look how long it took you to admit you slept around and got yourself knocked up. You’re a hypocrite. You’ll have sex with every street-corner stud you find, but you barely kiss me. So if we’re talking truth, why don’t you tell me who you’re whoring around with?”
Catherine gasped. Easy shifted uncomfortably on the seat. Glad the darkness hid his burning face, he avoided looking at Trish or John. He wondered when Catherine had told Livman about the baby, and why. In any case, Livman’s vicious words weren’t part of the plan.
“If you’re going to speak that way to me, I’m leaving.” Her voice cracked. Dishes clanked.
“You’re the one so hot about the truth. So be honest, darling. Who’s the lucky stiff getting the pieces of you that I’m not?”
“Let go of my hand. You’re hurting me. Jeffrey!”
Easy cursed and clamped his hands on the headphones, prepared to rip them off and run to the rescue.
“What’s he doing to her?” Trish cried. “Stop him, Easy. Make him quit.”
“Shh! He won’t hurt her in front of witnesses.” Easy hoped.
“Where’s the ring?”
“Jeffrey! Turn—loose!” A glass sounded as if it cracked. The murmuring of other diners hushed. The distinct sound of flesh slapping flesh snapped through the speaker.
“He’s hitting her!” Trish yelled and pushed open the car door. The dome light flared on.
“Wait a minute,” Easy called. “Hold on.”
“Don’t you ever put your hands on me like that again!” Catherine sounded more angry than afraid. “I’m leaving. We’re finished.” Rustling and squeaking announced her leaving the leather-covered booth.
An anxious voice asked Catherine a question. Restaurant noises marked her passage. Easy looked at the double doors in time to see them fly open as Catherine straight-armed her way out of the restaurant. She looked in the direction of Easy’s car then lowered her chin.
“I can’t do this, Easy,” she said. “I won’t! He’s a monster.” She dug through her purse while she stalked across the parking lot toward her Blazer.
Jeffrey Livman burst through the restaurant doors. He paused a scant second, his head swiveling. He lunged after Catherine.
“You have to stop this right now,” Trish said. “If you don’t, I will.”
Easy hesitated. If Livman were angry enough, he might say something incriminating. Livman caught up to Catherine.
“Get away from me!” she snapped. Keys jangled.
“Nobody walks away from me,” Livman said, his voice an icy growl. “Nobody. Do you hear me? Nothing is over until I say it’s over.”
Catherine’s hair caught the parking lot lights, sparkling like gold as she tossed her head defiantly. “Then say it’s over, Jeffrey. Because it is. You’re a liar. You lied about everything. Roberta. Your own mother. Even your age. And you’re cruel.”
“You want cruel?” He shoved her against the Blazer.
She hit with a loud thump and a burst of static. The radio receiver went silent Easy tore the headphones off his head. In unison, he, Trish and John scrambled out of the car.
“Stop it!” Catherine screamed.
“Hey!” Easy yelled. His boots crunched gravel. His vision filmed in furious red.
Livman sprang away from Catherine. She slumped against the Blazer, her beautiful face strained with pain and fear. Easy skidded to a stop between Livman and Catherine. Up close, he noted Livman was smaller than he appeared either in photographs or from a distance. Shadows cast his face into a furious mask. He appeared as dangerous as a rabid dog.
Easy raised his fists. He’d never in his life wanted to hit anybody as much as he wanted to hit Jeffrey Livman. “Back off.”
“Who—?” Livman looked directly at John. Slowly, he straightened his back and lowered his shoulders. A thin, grim smile slashed his face. He looked between Catherine and John, then chuckled. “Oh, you bitch,” he said, softly. “You’re trying to set me up.”
>
“Murderer.” John advanced, his thin shoulders shaking. “You aren’t getting away with killing her. I’ll see you rot in prison the rest of your miserable life.”
Easy knew the game was over. Livman had won on a TKO. Easy thrust out a hand, ready to hold John back before he committed assault and battery. With his other hand, he reached for Catherine. Her silence scared him, and he prayed it meant she was only scared and not hurt.
Chuckling, Livman tugged at his lapels and smoothed a hand over his hair. He smiled at Catherine with an intensity that turned Easy’s blood cold. He nodded at his former brother-in-law. “You’ll never prove anything, John. Get over it.” He sauntered away.
Chapter Eleven
“I’m sorry.” Catherine slouched on a chair in Easy’s apartment She did not know what else to say. Jeffrey’s attack had shocked her, shaken her. It confirmed that he was capable of murder. It also confirmed that Easy was right; she did not know Jeffrey at all.
Worst of all, she’d blown it. When she allowed Jeffrey to rattle her, she’d destroyed any chance of inducing him to confess to Roberta’s murder. Heartsick, she watched Easy fiddle with the broken transmitter. When Jeffrey slammed her against the Blazer, the unit had cracked. Catherine could feel a bruise forming all the way to her tailbone. It seemed too small a price to pay for mining John Tupper’s chances of ever finding justice.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
Easy shook his head. “Not your fault. I should have known he’d react like that.”
“You couldn’t have known,” John said. He paced aimlessly around the crowded living room. “Nobody can predict what he’ll do. He’s insane.”
Easy grunted. “He isn’t insane. We underestimated him.”
Trish came out of the kitchen. She bore a mug of steaming tea. She handed it to Catherine. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. Her dark eyes shone with concern.
Catherine accepted the tea. “He scared me, that’s all.” She inhaled the steam off the fruity tea. The moist fragrance of blackberry helped somewhat to soothe her tangled nerves. It did nothing for the guilt rampaging through her soul.
Lost in her own glum thoughts, she paid scant attention while Easy, John and Trish plotted new strategy. Their conversation led nowhere. Finally John said he had to leave. Trish left with him.
Catherine stood. The small of her back twinged. Grimacing, she rubbed it. “I better go home.”
“You can stay.” Easy canted his head toward the sofa. “I’ll sleep out here. You’ll be safe.”
She shook her head. Easy Martel presented far too much temptation. In her vulnerable state, she doubted if she could resist him. “I’ll be fine.”
He caught both her hands and held her firmly. He leaned in until she finally looked up into his eyes. “Quit blaming yourself,” he said. “If anybody is to blame, it’s me. I should have prepared better.”
She sighed heavily. “If you want to know the truth, I hoped you were wrong. I wanted him to say something to prove that he couldn’t have hurt Roberta. I saw a side of him tonight that terrifies me. His eyes…” She closed her eyes against the memory. “I have never in my life seen anyone so cold, so—so—”
“Evil?”
“Evil,” she repeated in full agreement. “What are you going to do?”
Without releasing her hands, he lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug. “Put the heat on him. Maybe if I squeeze hard enough, he’ll squeak.”
She wrinkled her nose and fixed her gaze on his wounded eye. “What about the men who hurt you?”
“They caught me off guard once. It won’t happen again.” He pointed his chin at the cassette recorder. “I’m taking the tape to the district attorney. Livman lied about the insurance policy and burying Roberta. He lied about her being drunk.”
“You don’t sound hopeful.”
“It’s a toughie, but not impossible.”
She gave his fingers a quick squeeze, then stepped away. She picked up her purse. “I really should go home.” She turned for the door.
“Hey, Tink.”
The way he used the nickname caused a strange sensation below her diaphragm. The very first time he’d ever asked her out, she’d been so flustered that the cutest, funniest, most popular boy in school spoke to her, she’d actually run away. Humiliated, she’d felt convinced he’d never speak to her again. Instead he’d cornered her the next day and tossed a handful of confetti at her. “Fairy dust,” he’d proclaimed. “Now you can’t fly away, Tinker Bell.” She’d fallen in love with him at that very moment.
“How about dinner tomorrow night?” He grinned mischievously. “You’re no longer attached.”
It bothered her how much she wanted to say yes when she’d proven she couldn’t trust herself around him. Despite harsh experience, she’d taken a foolish chance and possibly risked the life of another child. “I need some time alone. I need to sort this out, get my head on straight.”
His smile faded. “I’ll call you.”
“Give me some time, okay?” She slipped out of the apartment before she lost her resolve and ended up in his arms.
His FIRST CALL CAME before Catherine reached home. Easy left a message on her answering machine. “Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.” Weary and heartsick as she felt, she couldn’t repress a smile.
She called the number he’d left. He answered on the first ring, making her wonder if he’d been sitting by the telephone. “I’m safe,” she said. “Good night, Easy.”
He called the next day. He wanted to know how her back felt. If she thought the injury needed to be checked, he’d be glad to take her to the doctor. She told him it wasn’t necessary.
The day after that, when the telephone rang, she rushed to answer, anticipating his sexy voice. She’d been sleeping poorly, tossing and turning and longing for Easy. They were grown-ups now. She could spend the night in his arms and not have to worry about the rising sun. Such thoughts disturbed her as much as they excited her. After what she’d been through, she ought to be swearing off men forever, not imagining life with Easy. She snatched up the handset and sang a cheery hello.
Jeffrey said, “Hello, darling.”
She went dead cold. Her chest tightened up so much she couldn’t breathe. Her legs trembled. “Jeffrey?”
“You sound surprised. You don’t believe a little spat would break us up, do you? I love you, Catherine, and I miss you. I’m sick without you. I can’t sleep or eat. Let’s give ourselves another chance.”
Incredulous, she pulled the handset away from her ear and stared at the mouthpiece as if it might offer a clue. She swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t call me anymore,” she told him, and hated her weak voice. “We’re finished. I never want to see or hear from you again.”
“How can you say that? We’re soul mates. I love you. I’m sorry I lost my temper. You did provoke me, but I can forgive you. Let’s get together. I’ll come to your place. I’ll bring wine. We’ll have a good talk and straighten this all out.”
For a moment, she wanted to invite him over. She’d have a second chance to help John. She could wrest a confession from his lying mouth—no! He attempted to trick her. She’d proven how ill-equipped she was to challenge him.
“We’re through,” she said, this time strong. “Don’t call me ever again.” She killed the connection.
Within seconds, the telephone rang again. Hugging her elbows, she backed away and allowed the answering machine to pick up.
“Don’t ever hang up on me!” Jeffrey spat the words. “We are not through! We’re getting married, Catherine. You promised and I’ll make you live up to that promise. Now quit acting like a baby and pick up the damned telephone!”
She touched the off button on the answering machine, cutting him off. She unplugged the telephone.
She debated calling Easy. She knew, though, he’d come charging to the rescue. With her emotions so frazzled and her nerves as brittle as late-spring ice, she k
new it would take little more than a smile from him for her to throw caution to the wind. She draped a newspaper over the telephone so the sight of it wouldn’t tempt her.
The next day she plugged the phone back in, but watching and waiting for it to ring made her so nervous she couldn’t work. She unplugged it and buried it again under newspapers. The day after that, she felt so resentful about allowing Jeffrey to cut off her communication, she plugged it in and dared it to ring.
When the telephone did ring, she shoved away from her worktable and advanced on the machine. “Go ahead, Jeffrey. Say something nasty.”
The answering machine activated. Margaret’s peevish voice demanded Catherine pick up the phone.
Chuckling in relief, Catherine picked up the phone. “I’m here, Margaret. What’s going on?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for days! I couldn’t even get your machine. What is going on?”
“I’m sorry. I—I—Remember my engagement? It’s off. Jeffrey and I broke up.” She resisted filling in the agent on all the gory details. Margaret would want Catherine to turn the experience into a book or a screenplay or something.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you all right? I warned you about getting involved. How is your emotional state? Ready to go to work?”
Margaret’s self-centered concern depressed Catherine. Her agent adored her because Catherine made lots of money. If the relationship ever turned unprofitable, it would end.
“I’m fine.” She carried the telephone to the window. All her life she’d dreamed of living in the country. A place where she had enough room to ramble and keep any animal she pleased. Instead of peaceful solitude, she felt isolated, vulnerable. Alone…Unloved…Unlovable. “Is everything going okay with the contract?”
“The attorneys are fighting over reproduction rights for your original paintings. It’s half a percentage point, for goodness’ sake!” Margaret wailed. “I’m going to kill all the lawyers!”