Lottery

by Kimberly Shursen

  Caleb kissed the end of the nose. “I think I’ve got just the place.”

  Her expression puzzled, Ling asked, “What do you mean you’ve got just the place?”

  He scooted her off his lap and stood. “Get dressed.”

  She stared at him.

  “Hubba, hubba.” He smiled and patted her on the bottom. He knew the day would come when she’d want a home.

  Ling put a hand on a hip. “Caleb?” she drew out.

  “No questions.”

  An hour later in the cab, Caleb turned to Ling. “The one thing I hope is that you don’t ask how much anything is.”

  She quickly turned toward him. “What do you mean? You haven’t found a house yet, I hope. Because I kind of wanted to look in—”

  “No,” he answered as the cab took a right onto Pacific Avenue. “I haven’t found one, I bought one.” He leaned forward. “Turn in here,” he said to the driver.

  “Where are we?” Ling looked around.

  “Pacific Heights.” He smiled and watched her face as the cab turned into the driveway.

  Her face drained of color as she stared at the large Victorian mansion. She turned back around to face Caleb. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope.” He paid the driver and hopped out of the back seat. Sprinting around the car, he opened Ling’s door.

  “This is too much,” Ling said. “It’s so big.”

  “And look.” Caleb nodded at a quaint carriage house not far from the main residence. “A place for Mom and Dad.”

  “But, how much was—”

  He covered her mouth with his. “You’re welcome.”

  Perched on a hill with a clear view of the bay, the stately three-story home was painted an airy lemon yellow. The frames of the many windows, as well as the gingerbread cornices and gables were trimmed in white; matching turrets on each side only added to its elegance. Pacific Heights was one of the most upscale neighborhoods in San Francisco; the suburb Caleb had always hoped he would one day live in.

  “When was this built?” Ling asked. Trance-like, she walked down the sidewalk and up the steps to the front porch. She wrapped a hand around one of the thick white columns on either side of the stained glass double doors.

  “1894.” He unlocked the door and turned to her. “May I?” He walked to her, bent over and picked her up. Ling wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Caleb had bought the home over a month ago, confident that Ling would want to be near her parents. The carriage house would give both couples their privacy.

  He stopped in the middle of the vast foyer smiling as he watched Ling taking in everything.

  “Oh, Caleb,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

  He set her down gently, watching her eyes roll over the matching curved staircases on either side of the foyer and the massive crystal chandelier hanging above them that showcased hundreds of crystal teardrops. Her gaze moved through the foyer to the great room with a wall of continual cathedral windows that framed San Francisco Bay.

  Caleb walked to the beveled glass door on the right-hand side of the foyer and opened it. “Your office.”

  She put a hand over her chest. “My office?”

  “Come and see.”

  She walked to where he was standing and peeked in.

  “You can do all your work in here for the adoptions.”

  She slowly walked across the polished wood floors that flowed throughout the entire first floor. His eyes followed her stare out the windows that overlooked the porch and extensively landscaped front yard.

  Caleb nodded at the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. “I’ve already started your library.”

  She walked to the shelving and took out one of the books on adoption.

  “You’re not saying anything.” Caleb crossed his arms over his chest.

  Her misty eyes looked into his. “I’m overwhelmed.”

  The next month was a whirlwind. Ling and Mei were busy decorating the main house, combining new furniture with Mei’s heirlooms from China. Although Ling was against spending a lot of money, Caleb had convinced her that the inside of the home should be as elegant as the outside.

  Ling had found a sturdy claw-foot table that dated back to the early l800’s and placed it underneath the chandelier in the foyer. She put a tall crystal glass vase in the middle of the refurbished antique and replenished it daily with bouquets of towering red hollyhocks, daisies, and popcorn ball-sized white peonies that she picked from the yard.

  In the great room, matching couches upholstered in a cotton print of crimson, deep purple, and bright orange flowers that faced each other were positioned a few feet away from the white, boulder rock fireplace. A delicate cherrywood coffee table sat between the sofas.

  At the other end of the great room, a massive dining room table with twelve high-back chairs covered in plush ivory suede were placed over a vintage Persian silk rug.

  Comfortable swivel chairs were arranged in groupings and faced the continuous wall of cathedral windows that captured the scenic views.

  Caleb was excited when he’d found a mahogany bar in an upscale antique store that took the length of one wall. He stocked it with an array of fine wines and expensive liquors, along with Baccarat tumbler, wine and champagne glasses.

  Ling had Caleb’s king size bed and dresser put into the master suite on the second floor. For now, the other three bedrooms on this floor, each with their own private baths, would remain empty as she wanted to concentrate on the large suite on the third floor where the adoptive couples would stay before going to Shanghai.

  The four-poster bed with an intricately six-foot high carved headboard that dated back to the early 1800’s, along with the matching wardrobe, were just what Ling had hoped to find to transport the large suite back in time.

  Caleb carried a glass-topped bistro table and two chairs up the three flights of stairs, placing them on the small private patio off the room. The last thing they added was a window box filled with ivy and bright red geraniums that Caleb hung over the black wrought iron railing.

  Every morning since they’d moved in, Mei, Sam, Caleb and Ling had breakfast together in the main house. The black granite countertops in the designer kitchen set off the ivory cupboards, many with glass fronts. A stainless steel, six-burner Bosch gas stove with a double oven was sandwiched beside an industrial sized refrigerator. At the far end of the room was a cosy sitting area with two navy blue leather recliners that faced one of the five fireplaces in the house.

  Caleb glanced across the table at Sam. Lately, Ling’s father had been even quieter than usual. Caleb knew it had been difficult for Sam to agree to sell the building and business where he and Mei had lived for over thirty years. But after long discussions with Caleb, who’d assured Sam that both he and Ling wanted Sam and Mei close, his father-in-law had agreed and moved into the carriage house. After Ling finished her oatmeal and toast, she carried her dishes to the counter. She leaned over and gave Caleb a kiss on the forehead. “I’ve got some work to do,” she said and walked toward the door of the kitchen. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  “Wanna go for a walk, Sam?” Caleb pushed his chair back and stood. Something was on Sam’s mind and Caleb wanted to find out what it was.

  Samuel nodded. “Let me get my camera and I’ll meet you outside.” Ling had told Caleb that her father had always had a passion for photography. When Sam and Mei moved into the carriage house, Caleb had bought Sam an expensive Canon camera that Sam brought with him almost everywhere he went.

  Caleb went to Mei, who stood at the sink, her hands buried in the sudsy water. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom.” He leaned over and pecked her cheek. Mei always seemed to manage to get to the kitchen earlier than everyone else to prepare meals.

  “Oh, you no thank me.” She turned and grinned. “I thank you.”

  Caleb walked out the front door and down the steps. It was a perfect San Francisco day, the breeze gentle and warm, a full sun in a cloudles
s sky.

  Caleb glanced toward the carriage house and saw Sam walking toward him. “You like that?” Caleb asked, looking at the camera that was attached to a leather band around Sam’s neck.

  Sam smiled. “Very much. Thank you.”

  Caleb patted Sam’s back. “You’re welcome.” Caleb started down the driveway toward the boulevard with Sam walking beside him.

  “You okay, Sam?” Caleb asked.

  Sam was quiet for a few seconds. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

  Caleb hadn’t expected this response. “What do you mean?”

  Sam stopped and turned toward Caleb, his hazel eyes staring into Caleb’s. “I’m concerned about your drinking, Son.”

  Caleb combed his fingers through the mop of blond hair. “I know.”

  “I’m here if you want to talk,” Sam offered.

  “Never had this kind of money before,” Caleb tried as he continued down the sidewalk. “Think I’m just trying to get a grip on everything.” They strolled by neighbor’s homes as large and impressive as Caleb and Ling’s with BMW’s, Mercedes, and even a Bentley inside the three and four car garages.

  “No one expects anything from you,” Samuel answered. “Might be putting too much pressure on yourself.”

  “Could be.”

  “You know my daughter was fond of you before you won the lottery.”

  Fond? “I know.” Caleb stared straight ahead.

  “Caleb, I …” Sam paused, as if searching for the right words. “I heard you talking the other night.” He cleared his throat. “And no one was around.”

  Caleb stopped abruptly and turned toward him. “Huh?” Jesus, how much had Sam heard?

  “You were talking to yourself.” Sam shook his head. “I had a brother who died of alcoholism. Not a pretty death.”

  Caleb smirked. “I’m not an alcoholic.”

  “You know I care about you a great deal, but I will protect my daughter.”

  Caleb’s heartbeat quickened and he placed a hand over his chest. “That’s what husbands do. I can protect my wife.”

  “You can’t protect anyone if you’re not sober. No one can,” Sam said sternly.

  Anger surged through Caleb. He looked up and noticed they were almost to the Chameleon Café. “Let’s have a cup of coffee.” He needed to contain himself before he said something he’d regret.

  Inside, they took an empty table at back of the narrow rectangular room. “Can I get you a coffee? Lemonade?” he asked Sam.

  “Lemonade sounds good, thanks.” Sam pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Staring at the long list of coffees to choose from, Caleb’s head started to swim. Everyone in the cramped space seemed to be talking at once.

  “Sir,” the young woman behind the counter asked, “what can I get you?”

  “Black coffee and lemonade.” Caleb took out his money clip.

  “Would you like a shot of vanilla in your coffee, or maybe butterscotch—”

  “Please.” Caleb rubbed his eyebrow, trying to stop the twitch in his eye. “I just want a cup of coffee.”

  What the hell had Sam overheard? Had he been talking to Weber? He put the glass of lemonade in front of Sam and sat down next to him.

  “So, when I was talking to myself”—Caleb forced a chuckle—“what’d I say?”

  Samuel looked down. “I don’t know for sure.”

  Sam was lying. “Guess I’m getting old.”

  After he took a sip of the cold drink, Sam eyed Caleb over the top of the glass. “I was taking a walk, wanted to get some pictures of the moon. Just noticed you were alone on the deck.”

  God, he had to have been talking to Weber. “You fish?” Caleb changed the subject.

  Samuel shook his head. “Always wanted to.”

  “How ‘bout I teach you? Only thing I learned from my dad.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’ve got some business I need to take care of in the next few days, but we’ll make it happen soon.” He hoped Sam would forget about the incident. Caleb had to stop drinking, or at least cut down when he was at home. He trusted Sam, and God knew he needed to talk to someone. If anyone could understand what a man would do for the love of a woman, Sam would.

  hen his phone rang, Caleb opened it. “Hello?”Caleb answered.

  “Mr. O’Toole,” a man stated.

  Sitting alone on the patio table, Caleb tried to place the voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know who this is.”

  “Name’s Ron,” the deep voice said.

  “Okay.” Caleb took a sip of his scotch and gazed at the sun that was just starting to slide into the bay.

  “You alone?”

  “Yes, why?” His muscles tightened. “Who is this?”

  “Name McKenzie Price ring a bell?”

  Jesus. Was she alive? “Who?”

  “Let me refresh your memory,” the man said sarcastically. “You strangled her.”

  Caleb shot out of his chair and turned toward the patio door to see if Ling and her mother were home from the market yet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” When he didn’t see anyone inside, he grabbed his drink and marched to the three-foot stucco barrier that surrounded the deck.

  “Lottery ticket. Does that refresh your memory?”

  The SOB was grasping at straws. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “First of all, let me put your mind at ease,” Ron said. “I’m in a business that … well, let’s just say, that requires use a disposable phone. My name’s not associated with it. No records. No traces. I demolish the cell every two to three days. Run over the God damn thing, in fact.”

  Caleb’s left eye twitched. “How’d you get my number?”

  Ron’s boisterous laugh was followed by a hacking smoker’s cough. “Got friends in high places.”

  Caleb leaned forward. “Listen, asshole, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “I know my sister met you a week before she was killed.”

  Sister? Fuck. Caleb swallowed the rest of the scotch.

  “No games. We have some business to take care of. Unless,” Price paused, “you want to do business with the cops.”

  He looked down at his empty glass. God, he could use another drink. “Look, I have no fucking clue what—”

  “How much do you think my sister was worth?”

  It was useless to play games. The guy knew what had happened. He glanced through the glass doors and saw Mei and Ling walk through the front door. “Listen, I don’t want you to call this number again. I’ll get back to you—”

  “Get back to me?” Ron scoffed. “I’m not calling to become friends. This isn’t a warm and fuzzy call, prick.”

  “I understand,” Caleb said. “I don’t want your number on my phone,” he whispered. Ling waved at him and he waved back.

  Caleb turned away from the windows. “What do you want?”

  “What do you think?”

  If Caleb admitted to killing McKenzie, he was done. Maybe the guy was an undercover cop and wasn’t McKenzie’s brother.

  “Look, I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “Great,” Price said. “Tell that to the cops.”

  “Wait.” Caleb was going to have to believe him.

  “Ready to play ball?”

  “How much?” His stomach was so sour Caleb felt like he was going to throw up.

  “Let’s start at a million and see how that goes?”

  “A million?” Caleb said, louder than he wanted, and then lowered his voice. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His eye started to twitch.

  “Dead serious, if you know what I mean.”

  “I can’t get my hands on that kind of money.” Caleb looked back over his shoulder, paranoid Ling would come out on the deck at any time. “Funds are all tied up.”

  “Figure it out.”

  “Hold on.” Caleb searched his pocket for a piece of paper, and found a receipt from a liquor store. His pulled out a pen. “
Give me your number.” He hurried back to the table and put the receipt down so he could write down the number. “I’ll call you tomorrow from another phone.

  “408-double 0–7–2961,” Ron said slowly. “If I don’t get a call tomorrow, I’m turning your ass in. It’s been nice talking to you.”

  Caleb closed his phone and shoved the receipt into his pocket. When he didn’t see Ling or Mei in the great room, he dug out the bottle of scotch he’d hidden in one of the large pots on the deck and filled his glass.

  Now there was another God damned asshole he was going to have to deal with. What the hell was he going to do this time?

  “We’ll work through it,” Weber intervened. “The first thing you need to do is get another phone. And, by the way, the dude doesn’t have proof you were with McKenzie.”

  Weber was right. For all Price knew the meeting never happened. Then again, if the cops dug deeper, they might connect the dots. McKenzie knew Weber and, just like Caleb, she’d been questioned by the police because she was also on the yacht the night Weber died. He clenched his hand into a fist. There was no fucking way out. He had to meet with this joker.

  “Pandora’s Box,” Weber chimed in “That bitch McKenzie opened it and now it’s up to us to seal it shut.”

  After dinner, Caleb pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Want me to come?” Ling asked.

  “Naw thanks,” he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I just need to clear out the cobwebs.” When Caleb caught Sam staring at him, Sam looked away. Caleb had promised he’d cut down on the drinking, but Sam knew he was drunk. How the hell could he stop drinking when everyone kept blackmailing him?

  A half-a-mile away from the house, Caleb picked up a pint of gin at a neighborhood liquor store.

  The streets were quiet. Neighbors were probably enjoying a beer, or a gin and tonic while they watched Game of Thrones or True Blood or whatever the hell was on television on a Wednesday night—everyone except Caleb. “Why doesn’t everyone leave me the fuck alone?” Caleb whispered to himself, took the pint of liquor out of his back pocket and screwed off the lid.

  “Feeling sorry for yourself?” Weber asked.

  He looked up and saw Weber walking out from behind a tree. Dressed in the same shorts and shirt he always wore, he sauntered toward Caleb.