AHMM, January-February 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "What are you talking about?” Kane asked.

  "Us,” she replied. “We could leave. You're always talking about what we could do if we were together. He's not coming back right away, and if the storm hits he'll expect me to go to the mainland. If I left, no one would think anything of it. Everyone is trying to get out ahead of the storm."

  "Where would we go?"

  The line of conversation was a surprise. It was easy to talk about a long-term commitment when it was all but impossible to achieve. Kane hadn't been prepared to give such a thing serious thought.

  "What difference does it make? We'll be with each other. Isn't that what you said you wanted? We could be a long way from here in two days. I've got some money ... enough to last us until I can find some work. You're a writer. You can work anywhere. This storm may be a blessing. This could be our chance."

  "Uh ... look. We've got to think this out,” Kane replied.

  "What the hell is there to think about? Don't tell me you're just all talk."

  She sat up straight, and her eyes burned into him. Her words were like vitriol. Suddenly he felt inadequate and was afraid that he appeared as such to her. That was something his ego and his manhood couldn't bear.

  "I just meant that we ... uh ... we need to plan this carefully."

  He hoped that his lie wasn't so transparent. Long-term relationships required long-term planning. He hadn't planned to agree to a long-term relationship today. He hadn't planned to run away with another man's wife. He hadn't planned to give real life to his fantasies.

  A smile crept across her face, and she melted against him again. The fire in her eyes now replaced by passion, she was leading him back down that path he yearned for again. Somehow it wasn't as inviting as it had been earlier, but not distasteful enough to make him back away.

  * * * *

  They went in different directions after leaving the Greenwood. Kane paid the bill in cash while Adrienne went directly to her car, minimizing the chances that they would be seen together. Kane headed down the frontage road back to his small bungalow.

  Joe Walker waved frantically as Kane's rusting VW Beetle drove past his home. Kane cringed. Why had he decided to come this way?

  Kane had known Joe Walker for years. A struggling writer needed well-to-do friends. Walker was a divorced stockbroker with more than a touch of larceny in his heart. He had made a sufficient amount of money by age forty that he had no further need for work. He spent his days polishing his BMW, tooling around in his Cigarette boat, and begging Kane to fix him up with women half his age.

  "Hey! What happened to you? I thought you were gonna help me out today. I've got to board this house up before the storm. Everybody's busy. I've got to do it myself."

  "Something came up,” Kane explained sheepishly. “I'm sorry."

  Walker looked him up and down, shaking his head in dismay.

  "Sorry is right,” he observed. “I should hang out with a better class of friends. Looks like you suddenly got crap for brains."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "If you're gonna mess with another man's wife, you ought to do it somewhere other than a place with one way in and one way out."

  Kane was momentarily speechless. He had thought they had been careful. If Joe Walker knew, what did Lonnie Beaumont know?

  "It's not what you think,” he replied.

  They stared at each other stoically for several seconds before Walker started laughing. His laughter was humorless—almost sarcastic but still infectious. It made it difficult for Kane to restrain his own laughter. The remark had been so lame that laughter was the only response it deserved.

  "Look. I hope you know what you're doing. Lonnie Beaumont doesn't play that. Killing a man for messing with your wife ain't a crime around here."

  "I'll keep that in mind,” Kane said. “When are you leaving?"

  "A couple of days,” Walker replied. “The storm's stalled out in the gulf, so I've got a little more time. Besides, it doesn't take that long to get up to Montgomery. I could leave a lot sooner if I had some help."

  "Sorry, but I'm trying to get out myself."

  Walker looked at him curiously.

  "But you never leave. You always ride ‘em out. What's the deal?"

  "There's a first for everything,” Kane explained. He drove away before Walker could respond because he didn't want to keep talking about his personal situation. In his rearview mirror he could see Walker watching him all the way to the end of the street.

  * * * *

  By the following day, Kane found his thoughts of Adrienne coalescing into something that resembled a plan. He wasn't sure, however, that it was a plan of his own choosing.

  He had been drawn to her because she was safe. She was a geyser of energy that was available enough to satisfy his appetites but sufficiently engaged otherwise to limit the disruption of his personal ambitions. She was tied to Lonnie Beaumont but not devoted to him. Kane had imagined that it could continue that way indefinitely, as they played out their fantasies, repeated words that neither felt compelled to honor. It was the jackpot, the lottery, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Who needed to possess the prize when the reward was available to enjoy at will?

  Now everything had changed. He was being told that the prize was his to keep. And he had begun to view their plan as something both possible and probable.

  His phone rang. Her voice was both welcomed and dreaded.

  "He's coming back this evening. I don't know what to do."

  Adrienne's tremulous voice started his heart pounding.

  "But I thought you said..."

  "I know what I said,” she interrupted. “He's on his way back now! What can we do?"

  The frequent harsh outbursts were something he hadn't noticed in her until recently, and he found them disturbing. She had always seemed vulnerable, even passive.

  "Maybe we should back off,” he suggested.

  He cringed as the words escaped his lips, but this was an opportunity. Something inside of him seemed to be pulling him back.

  "I don't want to do that,” she said. She hesitated and an uncomfortable silence settled between them.

  "Are you having second thoughts?” she asked.

  "No. No. Not at all."

  It was a lie he hadn't wanted to tell, and he couldn't understand why he seemed so powerless.

  "You sound different,” she observed. “I don't throw myself at men. I guess when a man says he loves you, it's reasonable to take him at his word."

  He could feel the knife digging into him, and he couldn't stop it. It carved a hole in his heart and exposed the guilt he had tried to hide.

  What was he supposed to say after spending a night naked and sweating all over her? What is the proper response when a woman says I love you? The truth was that he wanted her, but he wanted her when he wanted her, and that wasn't all of the time. It was a thought that would never see the light of day.

  "Nothing's changed,” he finally said.

  By noon there was a noticeable increase in the velocity of the wind. Whitecaps rolled onto the shore with increasing frequency and crashed incessantly into the nearby jetties.

  Kane was alone now, convinced that an opportunity missed was an irretrievable loss. He looked at his meager possessions in an effort to decide what was useful and what was expendable. He had reluctantly arrived at the conclusion that they had a chance. They would be long gone before her husband realized what had happened. They would be obscured among the hundreds of people evacuating the island. It could be days before it became apparent that his wife had not simply been misdirected in her attempt to join him.

  His phone interrupted his thoughts.

  "Danny, he's coming back. He's coming back!"

  Adrienne's voice was anxious and desperate.

  Her words chilled him. He had come to accept a plan that was relatively benign. Simply leaving the island and disappearing was innocuous enough, but the possibility of a confrontation was unnerv
ing. He didn't like problems or complications. Simply put, he wasn't ready for this.

  "When? What?"

  "I don't know. Now I suppose."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "I ... I told him I would rather meet him, but he insisted. He's coming tonight!"

  "Then we have to table it. There'll be another time."

  "I don't want to table it!” she screamed. “I can't deal with this. We can go now!"

  "I can't. I have manuscripts. I have equipment. I ... I have things I can't leave behind."

  He was making excuses, but they seemed plausible to him, and they kept him from facing his real insecurities.

  "What about your friend?” she asked.

  "Who?"

  "Joe ... Joe Walker."

  It was a small island. Everybody knew everybody else. He just wasn't aware that she knew that he and Joe were friends.

  "What can he possibly have to do with this?"

  "I just thought that you could leave some of your things at his place. I could pick you up from there, and we could be out of here before Lonnie arrives."

  Kane couldn't think. This was happening too fast. Hasty decisions were never good.

  "You do still want me, don't you?"

  That last question destroyed any resistance he might have had left. He recognized that as being his core problem. He wanted her passionately and desperately.

  * * * *

  The afternoon rain began as a gentle shower. The almost imperceptible counterclockwise rotation of the dark clouds above, however, portended more threatening things to come.

  Kane stood outside of Joe Walker's home, impervious to the continuous drizzle.

  "Man, you got the nerve of a brass-ass monkey,” Walker laughed sarcastically. “Now let me get this straight. You don't have time to do me a favor, but you want me to do you one. Is that the way it is?"

  "Yeah,” Kane answered sheepishly. “I was wondering if I could leave my car in your garage along with a few other things. I'll come and get them later."

  Walker's face clouded with curiosity, but Kane thought he saw something much darker and confusing.

  "If you're leaving your car here, how are you getting out of town? Naw. You wouldn't..."

  Kane's cell phone abruptly stopped Walker's speculation.

  "He's here, Danny. He's here!"

  Her voice was a tremulous whisper.

  "But I thought you said..."

  "He's here!” she repeated. “I think he knows!"

  "How could he?"

  "Oh, God! Oh—” Her voice rose in a crescendo that ended in a scream.

  Kane called her name, but there was no response. The phone went dead.

  "I've got to go,” Kane yelled as he ran toward his car.

  "What are you doing, man?” Walker yelled back. “What's going on?"

  * * * *

  The VW sped down the narrow streets in driving rain. The Beaumont home appeared quiet, giving no hint of the conflict that was unfolding inside. He listened at the front entrance, but there was nothing.

  Two well-placed kicks to the door splintered the jamb, swinging the door inside.

  The interior was dark. The blinds were closed. Kane considered turning on the lights, but thought better of it. There was an eerie stillness in the house. He entered cautiously and moved silently across the carpeted floor. His eyes strained to see in the subdued light.

  His foot struck something, sending him sprawling face down. He rolled over, quickly rising to his knees. He was in the bedroom, but it also seemed empty. Then he saw it. He saw what he had stumbled over. A dark form lay crumpled on the floor.

  Kane knocked over a heavy brass lamp at the bedside as he made a terrified scramble to reach it. It didn't work, and he quickly ran to the wall switch. He was hyperventilating uncontrollably and almost on the verge of passing out. The overhead fixture bathed the room in light. There was a body on the floor, but it wasn't Adrienne. It was her husband. It was Lonnie Beaumont.

  He froze then, unable to think. Gazing at the body, his eyes drank in the scene before him. Dark red splotches stained the carpet. He crawled closer, unwilling to believe what he was seeing. He gingerly shook the body. The skin had a cool, leathery feel. Blood had congealed on his face. His arms were rigid and didn't move when agitated.

  The room was neat and clean. The bed was undisturbed. A lampshade lay on the floor against the wall. It apparently belonged to the bedside lamp that didn't work. His eyes remained fixed on the lamp. Dark dried blood stained its base.

  Kane felt his stomach boiling as uncontrolled emotions surged through him. He recoiled from the touch of the dead man's skin as if he had been struck by an electrical charge. He raced for the door because the only thought that he could manage was to get out of there. He ran out into the driving rain, when the lights abruptly went out. He had the vague perception of a sudden pain in his head, and then there was nothing.

  * * * *

  "I knew you were stupid, boy, but I didn't know you were this stupid."

  The world was a blur, immersing Kane in sounds that he struggled to decipher. The howl of wind gusts and the drumming of incessant rain confused him as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He was lying in the foyer of the Beaumont home, and Rob Manley's craggy face filled his field of vision. The island's chief of police didn't have a humorous bone in his body. Kane could never remember seeing the man smile, and today he appeared more solemn than usual. He tried to sit up and realized that his hands were restrained.

  "What the hell's going on?” Kane asked.

  "Don't move. We're waiting for the ambulance,” Manley replied, ignoring the question.

  "Why am I in cuffs?"

  "You're at a house with the dead body of the husband of the woman you were screwing. What do you think?"

  The weight of his circumstances dropped on Kane like a ton of bricks. How many people knew about him? Well, so much for being discreet.

  "I didn't do this."

  "I'm supposed to tell you that you got the right to remain silent,” Manley interrupted and proceded to read him the Miranda warning.

  "He was dead when I got here,” Kane continued whrn Manley finished. “Somebody hit me."

  "Looks like you slipped on the wet pavement and hit your head. We didn't see any evidence of anyone else being here."

  Kane took a deep breath. He could see where this was going.

  "He was already dead when I got here. You know me, man. You know I couldn't do this."

  "I didn't think you were dumb enough to meet another man's wife at the Greenwood Motel once a week. That just goes to show you can't tell what a person will do."

  "He was cold and stiff when I got here, Rob. How long does that take?"

  Manley shrugged.

  "It depends,” he replied. “The coroner will determine time of death."

  "Adrienne. What happened to Adrienne ... Mrs. Beaumont? She called me. She was in trouble."

  "What kind of trouble?” Manley asked.

  "I don't know. I think he was trying to hurt her."

  "Mrs. Beaumont is over on the mainland with her family. Her husband was here trying to secure his property like everybody else. You had access to the goodies whenever you wanted them, boy. Why couldn't you be satisfied with that?"

  "Look, I talked to her. She told me...” Kane hesitated. He suspected that he was digging a hole for himself. He didn't know what the hell was going on, and he didn't need to give Manley any fuel to help fry him.

  "I've got an alibi.” He finally said. “I was with Joe Walker earlier today. He can vouch for me."

  * * * *

  The trip to the local hospital was brief but thorough. They did a CT scan of Kane's head and pronounced him fit for imprisonment. Afterward he was transported to the small local lockup. He suspected that they would move him to the county facility on the mainland the following day.

  The island's jail was a relatively low-key facility. It looked more like a commercial office building
than a prison. They had limited space for confining inmates in the lower level. The officers were locals, most of whom were familiar to Kane.

  "Hey, Danny. What are you in here for—making a nuisance of yourself to women?"

  He gave Rick Brody the finger in response to his question. They had played on the same high school football team. In the yearbook, Rick had listed his ambition to become the director of the FBI. Working at the Dauphin Island jail seemed to be as far as he got, but he wasn't the only one who had settled for something less than his dreams.

  "Don't look so glum, man. You'll probably be out of here by tomorrow. This is your first time in here, ain't it? It ain't so bad. You remember when they locked me up that time I got drunk and drove my daddy's car off the pier?"

  Kane found himself laughing for the first time. He remembered Rick's dad kicking the fifteen-year-old's behind right on the steps of the jail when they released him.

  By now Kane could hear the wind through the walls of the jail. Joe had said that the storm was stalled out in the gulf, but it didn't sound that way to him.

  Eventually the repetitive sound of wind and rain lulled Kane to sleep. It was a restless slumber, but he made the best of the hard cot and the questions that raged in his head.

  When things go bad, they just seem to continue in that direction. Even sleep was not meant for him. He was awakened to Rob Manley's stern visage.

  "I checked your story out, sport,” he said. “Joe Walker said he hadn't seen you in days. He said you were supposed to help him board up his house, but you never showed."

  "I just saw him today!"

  Kane sat erect abruptly, astonished by what he was hearing. “I ... I talked to him about storing some of my things in his garage. Hey, he was kidding. He was just pulling your leg."

  "Do I look like the kind of man who would put up with kidding over something like this?” Manley asked.

  The answer was obvious, so Kane didn't bother to respond. Joe was probably pissed. Kane had broken a promise, but this was over the top. Why would he lie, particularly if he knew the gravity of the situation? Why would he let them stick him in jail over that kind of bs? This meant he was prepared to tell that same lie in court. After all, he couldn't just tell the police that he made a mistake. He couldn't tell them that he forgot, but he finally remembered. He was being screwed for a reason, and he didn't want to think about what it really was.