“Carly!” He gasps. His face becomes flushed as he struggles for breath. Seconds later, he goes limp and slumps down in the chair as he exhales. His eyes are open but he doesn’t blink.
The stench of urine wafts up around me and I realize he’s urinated. I think, I hope it doesn’t get on the chair. It’s almost as if I’m watching from a distance. Like this is a snuff movie. I just murdered him. How can I be so detached?
I give myself a mental shake, get up and go to the fridge for a glass of wine. I bring it and my dinner back to the table to sit next to him to eat. I’m astonished at my lack of emotion when my life as I know it is over.
When I think about it, I realize I’m not without emotion. What I feel isn’t remorse, though, it’s pride. I actually did it. I beat him. I won. I’m free of him at last.
I think my first call will be to Lita to thank her for opening my eyes. For giving me the courage to push my shame aside and get out of my abusive marriage.
“To your health,” I say, raising my glass in Derek’s direction before taking a long swallow. His health? Such a bizarre thing to say when he’s so obviously dead that his lips are turning blue! Cyanosis, I remember from reading the article. For some reason, it strikes me as being hilarious and I burst into paroxysms of laughter.
Twenty-seven
Lita
THE SOUTHEASTER IS still blowing around us. The boat is bobbing, straining against the mooring lines, and rain lashes the cabin windows, but Nullah was right, the Silva Bay marina is sheltered enough that although it’s windy, it’s not really miserable.
We walked around the little section of Gabriola Island close to Silva Bay for long enough to get cold and wet but at least my stomach returned to normal. We hoped we might get a cabin for the night but the motel is closed for the season, so we have no choice but to spend the night on the boat. The marina office had Gravol, a rack of cheap sunglasses, and Ding Dongs. The boat isn’t rocking and rolling terribly. The 1980’s rock channel is pumping out Bruce Springsteen assuring us he was born in the USA and John Mellencamp is happy about hurtin’ so good. I’m at the table in the cabin with my Kindle in front of me, half way through a Toby Neale thriller, glass of wine at hand and doing okay.
Nullah is sitting across from me. Actually not sitting, lounging back in the corner of the banquette with his feet sticking out into the aisle, doing whatever on his phone. He’s on his second beer and has nearly polished off an entire 400 gram bag of barbeque flavoured ripple chips. He can have them all. I hate that flavour.
My phone rings. I pick it up and see it’s Carly. “That’s odd,” I mumble, and answer, putting it on speaker for Nullah’s benefit.
“Hey, Carly! What’s up?”
“Oh, not much. Just finished dinner.”
“Us too,” I reply. Derek wants Carly to keep sucking up and maybe he needs Nullah to do something after what happened last night. Call and apologize to the boss. Tell them Derek had nothing to do with it, or something. Fat chance of that! I need to know if the asshole is listening in, so I ask, “um, is Derek there?”
“Yeah, he’s here. But he can’t talk.”
Nullah looks up from his phone.
“Oh? He can’t? Why is that?” I ask. I’ve never known Derek to be unable to talk. He usually does all the talking.
“Well, um, actually, when I said there was not much up, that’s not really true. I have news. I wanted you to be the first to hear it.”
“You have news?”
“Yeah. Derek’s dead.”
Nullah sits bolt upright.
“What?” I gasp. “How? Was there an accident?”
“No, there was no accident,” she says. “I killed him.”
I feel as though I’ve been run into by a bus and the wind has been knocked out of me. I can’t speak.
Carly continues, “yeah, he’s sitting here next to me. Don’t worry, I’m going to call the cops as soon as I get off the phone with you. I just wanted you to know I never would’ve had the courage to do it if you hadn’t been there for me.”
I gasp. I gave her the courage to commit murder? I manage to find my voice and cry, “oh my god, Carly!”
“Yeah. It’s one hundred percent thanks to you. I thought, Lita would never put up with any man doing to her what Derek does to me. He slapped Lita around just once and she dumped him! And then I realized, it’s not so much what he’s done to me, but what I’ve let him do to me. So I’m partly to blame. I am so ashamed for letting him do it, time and time again. But that’s all over now. I guess I’m calling to thank you.”
“Carly, it’s Nullah,” Nullah chimes in. “I’m here with Lita—"
“Oh, hi, Nullah!” Carly cuts him off. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going to happen from here, but I want you to know—no, I want both of you to know—I’m glad Lita has you. I’m glad you’re together.”
“Er, thanks, I’m glad Lita has me, too,” he says. “Carly, you said this is your first call. You haven’t called anyone else? The cops?”
“No, but I’m going to do that as soon as I get off the phone with you.”
“No, Carly! Before you call anyone else, let’s talk about this,” Nullah continues. “Tell you what. Don’t do anything right now, just sit tight. Me and Lita are gonna come right over.”
“But I need to call the police.”
“Sure, but not right now. There’s no hurry. You can call them after we get there. Because they’ll come right away and they can be pretty rough. You need a friend with you. For moral support.”
“Umm…”
“I want to be there with you, Carly,” I say. I don’t know if I’ve fully recovered from the shock of her news, but at least my brain is starting to boot up. “Where’s Jennifer? The police will take you in, and there will be forensics people all over your place. We can take Jennifer home with us.”
“No, she’s gone to Ottawa with the school band.”
“Oh. Okay, that’s good.”
“Still,” Nullah says, “it’s a good idea to have Lita with you. You know, as your friend, but also as your lawyer. You need your lawyer with you when the police are questioning you.”
“Oh yeah,” Carly says, “I didn’t think of that. Derek says she only does insurance stuff, though.”
“That’s right,” I tell her, “we’ll get you a crim… er, a better lawyer right away, but at least I can hold down the fort until we figure out who’d be best. Okay?” I can hear her breathing while she thinks about it. “Okay?” I ask again.
“Okay,” she agrees.
“Good! Then just sit tight until we get there.”
“We’ll be a little while,” Nullah tells her. He’s on his feet and reaching for his jacket. “We’re not home right now, we’re on the boat, on the east side of Gabriola Island. I’m not sure how long it’ll take for us to get there. But don’t worry, we’re coming. Definitely. You can stay on the phone with Lita while I cast off.”
“It’s okay,” Carly says, “I think I’ll go up and shower.”
I look at Nullah and mouth: shower?
“I, um, don’t you want to stay on the line, Carly?” I ask.
“No, I’m fine. I’d like to shower, though. I’ve been so stressed all day, my armpits are really stinky.”
“Just don’t do anything else, then, honey,” I tell her. “We’ll get there as soon as we can.”
“I’ll watch for you,” she promises, and the line goes dead.
“Oh, my god, Nullah!” I wail as I slide out from beside the table, “how do you think she killed him? Do you think she has to shower because she’s covered in blood?”
He shakes his head and shrugs, his expression grim. Pulling his Mustang floater jacket on, he heads for the door. “I’ll get the mooring lines if you want to pull up the bumpers, and we’ll get going right away.”
“How long will it take us to get back to Nanaimo, put the boat away, and drive to Carly’s? A couple of hours, at least? I hope she can sit tight that long.”
“Is it okay, in this storm?”
“As easy as going back to Nanaimo. We’re about halfway between their place and the Yacht Club. We’ll go through between Pylades and DeCourcy.”
I get my jacket on, follow him out the door, and pull up the bumpers while he coils the ropes and tosses them up on the deck. He jumps off the wharf onto the boat with the last one, drops it without coiling it, and we both go back into the cabin. He climbs onto the captain’s chair, turns on the running lights and starts the engines. We chug slowly away from the wharf, and haven’t gone far before the boat starts rocking and rolling again. He studies the screen on the chart plotter, checks all the other electronics as well, and we listen to the marine weather report. No good news there.
“Hang on,” Nullah says. “Hope you don’t run out of Gravol.”
“Where’s that basin,” I mutter. My stomach is already squeezing. I imagine Carly killing Derek. If she bloodied herself so badly in the process that she needs to shower, there must be blood everywhere. Pooling on the floor. Cast off on the walls and ceiling. The sight of blood, as in someone wounded and bleeding, doesn’t bother me, but visualizing a bloody murder scene and possibly a chopped-up body coupled with the boat being tossed around in the heavy seas might be too much for even a whole package of Gravol. Although I have little faith it’ll help, I dry swallow two tablets, climb onto the First Mate’s chair, and grip the grab bar with both hands.
Nullah looks away from the chart plotter for a second to give me a quick grin. “Go get your life jacket on, babe,” he says. He returns his attention to the screen and then scans our surroundings.
And I thought being seasick was my biggest worry! I take a couple of gulping swallows, then ask, “is it safe to go through these channels now? In the dark? In this storm?”
“We’re in luck. The water’s rough but the tide’s right, best time to go. We should be able to catch the last of the fair current, and I doubt there’ll be any other traffic, which is a good thing. We have nav, plus there’s beacons. Don’t worry.”
Great. He says don’t worry when he’s just told me to put on a life jacket as we head into a storm to go to the scene of a murder. What’s there to worry about?
Twenty-eight
Carly
I’M STANDING IN the darkened foyer looking out into the night. I already dug the keys out of Derek’s pants pocket and unlocked the deadbolt, so now I’m just waiting for Lita and Nullah to drive in. How long before I should call the police? I know Nullah said not to do anything until they got here, but I’m getting antsy. Then I remind myself no one is going to show up unannounced at midnight, find me with my husband’s dead body, and say, oh Carly, he’s dead. Why haven’t you called someone? I guess if they did I’d say I have called someone, my friends. My only friends.
I’ve just concluded there would be no random visitors when I’m startled by a knock at the back door. I rush through the house and turn on the outside light, but there’s no way I can see who’s there. I call, “who is it?”
“It’s us,” Lita answers.
“Oh!” I pull the door open. “You’re soaking wet,” I tell them. “Get in out of the rain. I didn’t see anyone drive in. How did you get here?”
“We came on the boat and tied up at your dock. Shitty coming up that trail in the dark,” Lita says as she comes in and pulls me into a hug while Nullah closes the door and hovers behind us. “But that’s nothing. Oh my god, Carly! What happened?”
Suddenly a wave of emotion floods through me and I start crying.
“Come on,” Nullah says gently, “let’s go in.” He loops an arm around Lita and me and herds us out of the back entry into the kitchen. Now they see Derek, slouching bonelessly but still upright in a chair at the table. Nullah sidles past Lita and me and goes to Derek, pressing his fingers against his throat.
“He’s dead, Nullah,” I sob. I collect myself and pull away from Lita. “No need to check.”
“But he looks… What happened?” Lita asks. “How…?”
I get a Kleenex from the dispenser on the counter to blow my nose, then tell them, “somehow he found out I told Lita about him, er, his abuse. Something must’ve happened at the company party because he came home from that in such a mood! Tonight he said he was going to take me out in the boat and throw me overboard to see if I could make it back to shore.”
Nullah comes and puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s my fault, Carly. That was my fault. Let’s go in the other room.” He gives me a nudge and all three of us go out into the foyer and through to the living room. Lita and I sit on the loveseat while Nullah takes the armchair.
After a moment, I realize what Nullah said. “How was it your fault, Nullah?” I ask.
“Well, uh,” he says, and squirms uncomfortably, “I, uh, had a friend speak to him at that party. I thought it would make him quit, er…”
“Oh. He invited you? I guess it didn’t go quite the way he expected, then. But don’t blame yourself, Nullah,” I tell him, “he’s been talking about me going for a swim for a while now. This is the first time I think he really meant it, though.”
“So, umm, how did you…?” Lita asks.
“Kill him?” I finish her sentence for her. “I fed him his favourite dessert.”
“Poison,” Nullah guesses. When I nod, he asks, “what kind?”
“Cyanide,” I respond.
“Where’d you get cyanide?” Lita wants to know.
“It’s in lots of things, Lita,” I tell her. “You’d be surprised. Apple seeds. Peach pits. Trace amounts of it in lots of everyday food. But I used cherry pits.”
“He ate cherry pits? That wouldn’t kill anyone, would it? I’ve swallowed them.”
“No, swallowing a few cherry pits won’t hurt anyone. It’s only when they’re cracked open. The bad part is inside, which unless they’re split open, just passes right through you. I ground them up and put them in the sauce.” I smile and shrug. “Very fast acting. I barely had time to tell him what I’d done before he died. And now, I should call the police.”
“Just a sec,” Nullah says. “So. Cyanide. I don’t think you need to call anyone.”
Lita gives Nullah an odd look and says, “what do you mean?”
“They don’t test for cyanide poisoning. Medical examiners, I mean. Medical examiners don’t test for cyanide. It looks like a heart attack.”
“No one’s going to think Derek had a heart attack,” Lita opines, “not as young and fit as he is. Was. So they’ll run more tests and might find out what, er…”
“What if we toss him in the salt chuck?” Nullah asks. “That’s what he planned to do to Carly. Sort of fitting if he was the one who drowned.”
“Nice idea, baby, but he won’t have water in his lungs so they won’t call it drowning, either,” Lita concludes. “Maybe if she says it was an accident.”
“How could it be an accident?”
“If she put the cherries in the blender to make the sauce and there was a pit she didn’t notice.”
“One pit wouldn’t do it,” I say. “Ten is a lethal dose. Anyone would notice that many in the blender. I gave him twenty.”
They both stare, their expressions unreadable. Astonished, I guess. Nullah pulls out his phone.
“Who are you calling?” Lita asks.
“I’m not calling anyone. I’m Googling cyanide poisoning.”
“I read it’s undetectable after a couple of days, “ I tell them. “But I can’t wait two days to report that he died.”
“No. But if he’s in the water for a couple of days before he’s found…” Nullah grows quiet as he reads further.
“No water in his lungs,” Lita reiterates.
“What if he was taking a leak over the side when a wave rocked the boat and he fell in? The cold water could’ve been enough of a shock to stop his heart before he sucked in any water. And all the body’s,
er, processes, don’t stop just because the heart isn’t beating. You know the fingernails and hair keep growing, right?”
“Yeah,” Lita agrees.
“So the cyanide could be gone. Even if he’s found in a day or two.”
“That’s a stretch,” Lita says.
“Well, it’s reasonable, though,” Nullah says, and expels a long breath.
“I can’t believe we’re even talking about trying to cover it up,” I tell them. “I killed him. I deserve to be punished. I’ve made my peace with it.” I get up and go to the kitchen, coming back with a beer for Nullah and a glass of wine for Lita and me.
Lita frowns and shakes her head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Think about it. When am I going to get another glass of wine? Maybe not for years.”
We drink quietly and I guess Lita and Nullah are both rolling everything around in their heads. I’ve had a couple hours more than they’ve had to get used to the idea, so it’s only fair to let them ponder it.
“What about Jennifer?” Lita asks. “If you go to jail, what will happen to her?”
“I thought maybe you’d take her? It would only be for a few years. Maybe ten?”
Lita’s eyes widen but she says nothing. I take that as a no. I’m shocked. I really thought she’d step up, but then I should have remembered she never wanted kids. I thought it was because of the way the world is going, climate change and all, but really, she’s not the maternal type. Or maybe it’s just that for the past few years, she hasn’t seen enough of Jennifer to really bond with her. It’s a complication I didn’t expect.
“Anyway,” I continue, “I killed him. I’ll take whatever’s coming. It’s only right.”
Finally Nullah says, “well, let’s think about what’s right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Carly,” Nullah begins, “did Derek ever tell you what happened to his first wife? How she died?”
“Yes. She drowned.”
“You said he’s threatened to throw you overboard before. Or, that you’d be going for a swim.”
“But this is the first time he really meant it.”
The Feeder Page 18