by Simon Wood
“Josh is my best friend and I stand by him. I don’t condone what he did. Personally, I think he was an asshole to have an affair, no offense to you. I want you to leave Josh and his family alone.”
Bell’s features tightened into an angry knot. “Did that spineless bastard send you to speak to me?”
“No, he didn’t. I came because I’m a friend. You
have enough money from this. What more do you
want?”
“I want to see him suffer.”
“You hate him that much?”
“I love him that much.” She paused for a moment.
“You have no idea how hard it was to watch him leave me and go back to his wife and his daughter.”
Bell’s sincerity frightened Bob. She wouldn’t leave Josh voluntarily. She’d go kicking and screaming. He couldn’t see Josh surviving this one.
“He’ll never be yours if you destroy what he has
now.
“I know, but if I can’t have him then no one will.”
“Assholes!” Bell poured herself another drink. Anger prevented accuracy and she slopped most of it over the table and her hand.
“Who are?” James Mitchell said, joining the table.
“Men,” she said.
Mitchell took the bottle from her hand and finished the job she’d started. He poured himself some wine.
“I’m afraid I fall into that category.” He gave her a bemused smile. “Who particularly is an asshole?”
“Our lovely host.”
“Josh Michaels?”
“Yes. Are you one of his cronies?”
“No, I only met him tonight. I’m an acquaintance of a friend of his.”
“That makes you part asshole?” She took a big gulp from her glass.
Mitchell blurted a laugh. “Quite probably. Would
you like to talk about it?”
It was a relief when Bob removed Josh from another discussion about his accident. It was the sixth time Josh had recounted the events of the incident. He kept his belief that someone was trying to kill him to himself. With every new telling the event seemed
more and more like the incident happened to someone else.
“Josh, I spoke to her.” Bob was grave.
“And what happened?”
“She is pretty fucked-up over you. She’s not going to go away. This one’s going down to the wire.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s talking to Mitchell.” Bob nodded to Bell and Mitchell over by the drink table.
Josh turned to see. “Do you think she’s telling him?”
“No. She’s angry, but she isn’t ready to throw you to the wolves. Honestly, I don’t think she knows what to do. She still loves you, did you know that?”
“No. No, I didn’t.” Josh’s eyes were still fixed on Bell talking happily to James Mitchell.
The rest of the birthday party went without incident. It was the picture of respectability and mediocrity. No one got too drunk, the music wasn’t too loud and the neighbors didn’t complain too much. People left as the food and alcohol disappeared. The designated drivers were called to duty to perform their role.
Around eleven o’clock, Kate found Abby under a pic
82
nic table curled up in a ball with Wiener at her side.
Kate put her to bed and discovered Wiener smelled of alcohol. She had no idea who had given the dog a
drink. She mused that she’d never seen a dog with a hangover.
It was well after midnight when Josh decided to call it a night and send the party hyenas on their way. He climbed onto the picnic table and surveyed the stragglers.
Bell was gone. He hadn’t seen her go or whether
she was with anyone when she had left. That worried him; she had drunk more than the legal limit and he hoped she hadn’t spilled her guts to someone. Mark Keegan had left around ten-thirty. His flying partner wanted an early night since he and Josh were flying the next morning. Bob, of course, was still there with his colleague. Bob wouldn’t leave until every plate was licked clean.
“Can I have everyone’s attention,” Josh called to the bleary-eyed congregation.
Dulled by alcohol and fatigue, they turned toward him.
“I would just like to say thanks to everyone who
came, especially those who had the decency to have left already.”
A titter of laughter came from the ensemble.
“But the party’s over. There’s no more alcohol left.”
The surviving party revelers expressed a cry of sad comic despair.
Josh smiled. “So you’ll have to go home now.”
“I don’t wanna go home,” Bob said.
“I didn’t want you to come. So that makes two of
us disappointed tonight,” he said and got another laugh.
Josh jumped down from the table and everybody
took it as their cue to go. Josh, with Kate’s help, ushered the party stragglers out. They watched their friends leave from the front yard.
Josh surveyed the battlefield of discarded bottles, plates, paper cups, glasses and other victims that fell during the festive clash in the backyard. “I think we’ll leave everything tonight and clear up tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to deal with it tonight,” Kate said.
“Thanks for coming everyone.” Hiding a smile, Josh ignored his wife and focused on his friends’ departures.
After a moment, he looked at Kate and winked.
“You bastard.” She grinned. “You’re flying tomorrow.”
He
put an arm around her and pulled her tight. “I
probably won’t go, anyway.”
“Why?”
“I drank too much and I don’t really feel like it.” Although he had drunk too much, he hid his real feelings.
Bell’s arrival had taken the shine off his party and sapped his desire to enjoy himself.
“Now that everyone’s gone, I thought we could play, maybe?” Kate said seductively. She made little circles with her finger on his chest.
“What—Scrabble, Twister, that sort of thing?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Oh, you mean sex.” He pretended to think for a
moment. “I think I could manage that.”
A car horn tooted as a vehicle went by. Josh waved.
He spotted Bob and Mitchell talking animatedly, fueled by alcohol. The topic: basketball and who would
make it to the playoffs. Nancy tried to ignore her husband and his colleague.
Then Josh’s life changed dramatically, wiping the smile clean off his face as if it had been a smudge. In response to Bob’s question, would the Sacramento Kings
make it to the playoffs, Mitchell stuck his arm out straight with his thumb up. Slowly, the Pinnacle Investments representative twisted his arm until his thumb
pointed down.
There was no mistaking the thumbs-down gesture.
James Mitchell was the man from the bridge.
CHAPTER TEN
Shock paralyzed Josh’s vocal chords. A cold wave
washed over his body, as if a transfusion of ice were being pumped into his veins. He’d entertained the man who’d tried to kill him. Mitchell had drunk his alcohol, ate his food and probably pissed in his toilet.
He had insufficient strength to stand unassisted. Josh slumped against Kate.
“Josh, are you okay? Do you feel sick?” Kate’s expression was a mask of concern.
“That’s him,” Josh said, staring at the vehicles leaving.
“He was here.”
“Who?” Kate looked at her husband, then at their
friends’ disappearing cars.
“The man on the bridge.” Josh became agitated and his voice rose in volume.
“Who? Where?”
“James Mitchell,” he barked, his impotent frustration spilling over.
“The guy Bob brought?” Kate said, inc
redulous.
“He did that thumbs-down thing, the same as he did on the bridge.” Josh’s frustration turned to rage. He jabbed a finger into the empty street. “James Mitchell tried to kill me.”
“For Christ’s sake, Josh. Calm down and come inside.”
Kate
dragged Josh, still babbling like a madman,
into the house. She got him into the living room, sat him down in an armchair and knelt in front of him.
With considerable effort, she held his flailing arms against his knees.
“Josh, you’ve got to get a hold of yourself. I’m not having you blow up at every little thing that reminds you of the accident. I know it must have been frightening, but I won’t accept that behavior. You shouted at
those cops in the hospital, you scared the shit out of that poor kid with the flowers and now you’re accusing a man you’ve just met of being a killer. Listen to yourself.
This is not the way Josh Michaels acts.”
She scolded him like she did their daughter. But it worked. Josh felt his hysteria pass.
Before he could respond, Abby called from the top of the stairs. The arguing had upset her.
“I’m coming, honey,” Kate said, and got to her feet.
She looked down at Josh. “I’m going to settle Abby down. I suggest you do the same yourself. Gather your thoughts. When I get back, tell me calmly why you think James Mitchell tried to kill you.” Her words were soft and comforting.
He watched her go. He sniffed and ran his hands
through his hair. “Get a grip,” he murmured. He
started to think through all the events leading up to the car crashing into the river. The images were all too vivid. Josh unpacked the jumble of events and repacked them in a neat order. He heard Kate returning from upstairs.
She took a seat on the arm of the chair and slipped an arm around his shoulders. “Do you want to start?”
Josh took a deep breath and started. “I know I didn’t see the guy’s face at the river, but he did the thumbs down thing like I was a vanquished Christian or something.
Just like I told you in the hospital.”
“Yeah, but I’ve seen lots of people do that. It’s nothing special.”
“I know, but not the way he did it. His way is different.
And trust me, baby, when I say it was identical to what James Mitchell did. I was there, in that car thinking I was going to drown and I saw the guy standing on the bridge. He was my only hope for survival and he did that.” Josh repeated Mitchell’s action.
Tears spilled from Kate’s eyes. She reached out and wrapped her delicate hand over his thumbs-down fist.
She pulled his outstretched arm to her mouth and kissed the knuckles of his clenched hand. “Oh, Josh.”
Josh’s love intensified for her. For days after the incident, preoccupied with his own problems, he’d ignored
his wife. Her support gave him the strength to get himself out of the briar patch he had fallen into. He drew her to him and hugged her tightly.
He spoke over her shoulder. “I’ll never forget what he did.”
“Nancy said Mitchell works for an insurance company.
What sort of an insurance guy would do that?”
“I don’t—” It struck Josh like an oncoming truck.
“The sort of insurance agent that works for the same insurance company that sent the wreath.”
Kate pulled away from him and stared at him incredulously.
“He works for Pinnacle Investments?”
“That’s what he said. I’ve only just realized.”
“What are you saying, Josh?”
“Mitchell forced me off the road and had his
company send me a wreath. Maybe he thought I was dead and has a sick sense of humor. It really doesn’t make sense to me. It’s like he’s zeroing in on me, but why?”
“I don’t know why and I don’t care. It’s not your job to find out. Talk to the cops. The ones from the hospital told you to contact them if anything develops, and it has.”
“They don’t believe me as it is. They think I was having a biggest dick competition with some idiot or I fell asleep at the wheel.”
“It doesn’t matter, Josh. You can give them something to go on. If this guy is a psycho, he might come
back for more.”
“I’ll talk to Bob. He knows this guy.”
“Josh, don’t call tonight. Bob’s already asleep by now. Don’t wake him.”
Josh frowned.
“For me, please. Sleep on it. Talk to him if you feel the same tomorrow, but call the police.” Kate emphasized the word “police,” reinforcing that it was their
job to track down criminals, not Josh’s.
Kate stood up and took Josh’s hand. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Happy birthday to me,” he said bitterly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Josh picked up the cordless telephone in the hall of his home and hit the speed dial.
“Hello?” Nancy said.
“Hi Nancy, is Bob there?”
“Hi Josh. No, he’s still sleeping off last night. I can wake him if you like.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve got to go off to the airport, but can you tell him that I called and that I’ll drop by later?”
“Yeah, no problem, Josh.” Nancy paused. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, just boys stuff,” he said, injecting a smile into his response to allay her suspicions.
“See you later, Josh,” she said, the concern gone from her voice.
Josh put the phone on the charger.
He went to pick it up again. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the handset. He wanted to scream
through the phone to the cops that he’d found the bastard who ran him off the road, but the seeds of doubt
had been sown. He couldn’t be sure James Mitchell was his man. Kate had made him realize he’d been acting irrationally over the last week. He pulled his hand away from the phone.
He had to plan his actions instead of running head on into the situation. He had to do the sensible thing— find out from Bob what he knew about Mitchell. If Mitchell’s credibility was suspect, then he’d bring the cops in.
“I’m going now,” Josh called to Kate.
She came to the doorway from the kitchen, where she was making Abby’s breakfast. “How long will you be?”
“I’m only dropping the check off.”
“I don’t want to be clearing up on my own,” she said and smiled.
“You’ve got Abby.”
“You are just going to the airfield?” Kate insisted.
“Yes, I am. Trust me.”
Taking a moment, Josh watched his wife from the
doorway, going about her life. He loved her so much.
He feared losing her. She caught sight of him staring at her and she smiled, but it didn’t last. Her worried face was a reminder of last night. He smiled back and
picked up the keys to Kate’s ‘99 Dodge Caravan and closed the door.
Inside the minivan silence prevailed, but inside Josh’s head his thoughts shouted. The car wreck, Belinda Wong clawing for more money, Pinnacle Investments’s funeral wreath and James Mitchell consumed his mind.
He wondered if all the events were connected and if they were, what it meant. He tried to make some semblance of order from it all, tried to make everything fit into little boxes, but he failed miserably. He switched on the radio to block his thoughts.
Josh stopped the car in the parking lot of the small airport. The sound of a piston aero-engine spluttering into life greeted him as he got out of the vehicle. He headed toward the planning office where the club pilots mapped out routes, flight times and calculated fuel requirements.
The unkempt outbuilding posing as an office
consisted of charts of northern California and the type of plain-looking wooden design tables found in drawing offices forty years ago.
Mark Keegan wasn’t in th
e planning office, but Nick Owen, an instructor with the flying school, was with a student. Nick was a young pilot with his eyes set on a commercial pilot’s lifestyle with a major airline.
Josh leaned through the doorway with his arms outstretched, his hands supporting his weight against the
doorframe. “Hi, Nick. Have you seen Mark Keegan
today?”
Nick turned to Josh while his student busied himself with his route planning. “Yeah, I saw him talking to Jack Murphy earlier. If he’s not with Jack, then he’s probably checking out the Cessna.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
“You flying, Josh?”
“No, I have some business to deal with.”
“Shame, it’s a good day. You’ll be missing out.” Nick sounded like a car salesman with a “You’d be a fool to miss this bargain,” pitch.
“It can’t be helped,” Josh said.
Nick returned his focus to his student and Josh went to the apron. He spotted Mark walking toward their Cessna from the workshop hangar, called out and
jogged over to him.
Mark smiled and put his hands on his hips. “Hey,
you’re late—we said ten o’clock. What time do you call this? You turn up after I’ve done all the work. Too much celebrating last night?”
“Hey, sorry, man. You’re going to have to go without me. Something’s come up and I’ve got to deal with it,”
Josh said.
“Nothing serious I hope?” Mark’s smile disappeared.
“No. Life crap. Nothing exciting.” Josh dismissed his problem with a wave of the hand.
He and Mark were flying partners and their friendship was one of camaraderie rather than bonding. Neither man confided deep truths to the other, and Josh
was not going to start now.
“What are you planning to do?” Josh asked.
“Oh, I’ll still fly to Stockton, probably doing some exercises on the way. It never hurts to keep in practice.”
Mark offered an encouraging smile to show Josh
there were no hard feelings.
“Sorry, Mark. Maybe next weekend.” Josh removed
the check from his back pocket and handed it to Mark.
“Here’s my half of the service bill.”
Josh said good-bye and trotted back toward the