Such Wicked Friends

by Rod Hoisington

  “I understand. My father told me to be very private about our money.” She laughed, “And we have peanuts compared to your family.”

  “Yes, by the end of the first day, it began to sink in. We could have flown to New York by private jet and stayed at the Ritz Carlton for ten grand a night. He told me the family didn’t accumulate all our money by being suckers. Yet, those with wealth have a special obligation to be responsible and generous. Our family has always been very reserved. Modest houses, ordinary vehicles, never discuss nor display the wealth. No one outside the family is supposed to know.

  “Except you told your best friend.”

  “I was young and so excited. Brad couldn’t believe it. I made him promise not to tell.”

  “We all have learned about Brad’s promises. I, in turn, promised him I wouldn’t tell. The difference is I never have and never will. I inherited an adequate amount of my own. I don’t need your billions or whatever.”

  “I trust you to keep quiet about it. Persons known to be super rich are viewed and treated differently. My entire lifestyle would change. You are now the only outsider who knows. You could cause me a great deal of grief and discomfort.”

  “What about your buddy, Sandy Reid? I bet she shares what she’s got with you.”

  “That’s not nice. We’re not intimate. There are other ways to relate other than sex. And I don’t appreciate your childish presumption.” He rose and stepped over to the counter for more coffee, which he didn’t actually want. He turned to face her. “No, she doesn’t know. Can we carry on? She wouldn’t care if I were rich or poor. Are you certain that Brad told Priscilla?”

  “Not at all sure. Maybe not, anyway be on guard. Even if she thinks you’re only a mere millionaire, rest assured she is after your money.” Jenna stood, walked to the sink and began picking pieces of the broken cup out of the sink. “Is there anything in my life that can’t be shattered with a flick of a wrist?”

  “You asked me to find out why they’re performing an autopsy. Sandy is checking for me. Her friend has access to that sort of info.”

  “Everyone knows her friend is Detective Goddard. Did he use the word, investigation? Am I being investigated?”

  “I’ll explain it to you later.”

  “No,” she said too loudly. “I need to know now. Why do you think I’ve been phoning you about this?”

  He whispered, “Okay, yes. The police suspect foul play.”

  “I was afraid of that. Why don’t you just say they think it was murder? No one this side of Agatha Christie says foul play anymore.”

  “Foul play is a useful term, could mean a lot of things.”

  “Stop trying to protect me. The police are giving off signals they don’t believe he killed himself. Should I get a lawyer?”

  “Why are you jumping to that?”

  “Because I feel alone, vulnerable and guilty.”

  “You’re not guilty because he took his own life.”

  “Right, if he wants to take his life that’s his own business, has nothing to do with me.”

  “I don’t mean that either. It’s an irrational act. Don’t try to make sense of it.”

  “You’re good for me. Come here.” They both stood, and she gave him a friendly kiss on the lips. “Look, his family must get out of here soon for the airport then I’m giving the rest of this crowd another five minutes and they’re history. Will you stick around so we can talk?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “If I can have what I want, then make us a pitcher of your famous Martinis assuming the party mob left me any gin. Wait for me out by the pool. It’ll take me less than ten minutes to clear out everyone and meet you there.”

  “First, I’ll go in and say goodbye to Brad’s folks and some people.”

  “No, don’t. They’ll wonder why you’re not leaving with them. They haven’t missed you. Just go on out to the pool.”

  He mixed a pitcher of Martinis, placed some olives in a small dish and carried it and two glasses across the patio to the pool area. He removed his jacket and tie and sat comfortably on the chaise sipping his Martini. He heard the rise in the level of chatter inside the house for fifteen minutes or more, then the sound of cars starting and then quietness.

  It seemed unlikely Priscilla knew about his money. If she knew, did she contrive to meet him? Over the years, he thought he’d developed an efficient early warning system for false friends, and they are everywhere. He thought back to the night they met at the Beachland Club. Brad had introduced them. The only way she could have found out would be if Brad told her. She said she disliked Brad—or perhaps that was later, and she was okay with him back then. If she knows and lets it out, he realized his life would become a nightmare, everyone would have their hands out. He’d never know which friends were true and which were false until it hurt.

  He wished he’d waited inside. It was almost an hour later when she appeared. Her hair now down beautifully around her shoulders. She had on a short beach robe and sandals. The robe was loosely open and underneath she was bare except for the red bikini bottom vividly contrasting with her creamy skin. She was slightly tanned with no lines around her breasts. Lean and trim—and delicious.

  He poured out a Martini and handed it to her. “You love Florida and poolside scenes such as this, don’t you Jenna?”

  She took a sip and set the drink down on the side table. “Yes, I love my house and this life. Now and then, it occurs to me what a lucky girl I am.” She shook the robe off her shoulders and kicked off the sandals.

  “Your life’s not over.” Without getting up from the chaise, he reached out, picked up the robe and placed it across the end of the chaise. He put the sandals together and set them aside. She hooked her thumbs on the bikini bottom and slipped it down over her hips and legs, so she only had to step out of it. He picked it up with two fingers as though it was red hot and placed in on her robe.

  Standing there naked and smiling, she appeared relaxed and free of trouble and worry. She leaned forward and retrieved her Martini. Then glanced over her shoulder at the pool. “Having sex in the water isn’t as free and easy as you might think. Sort of tricky.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Oh, I think you already knew that. Will you join me for a splash? I hope you didn’t bring a swimsuit.” She tipped her head back and drained the glass.

  “You go ahead. I’m going to start on another Martini and watch you.”

  With a playful swing of her hips, she sauntered to the pool edge. She bent over and swished her fingers in the water. Then without straightening up, she looked back over her shoulder and smiled at him. She dove in so gracefully he was going to clap playfully when she came up. He waited. And waited. He stood quickly and was about to take a step when she splashed up out of the water laughing.

  She swam leisurely to the far edge and pulled herself out of the pool. Absolute magic watching her stroll casually around the pool. When she got near she said, “Do you want me to circle one more time?”

  “You look amazing.”

  “Brad used to say that when we were first married.”

  She came up to him smiling and stood dripping wet with her feet spread apart while brushing her hair back with her hands. “I love your eyes on my body. The way you’ve been looking at me, I feel I just had ten minutes of foreplay.” She stood there taking her time finishing her second Martini. Then she put on the beach robe and left it untied. He was leaning back on the chaise. She sat next to him on the side. “Is your dream girl scaring you? She’s right here in the flesh so to speak.”

  “Isn’t this a bit inappropriate.” In an attempt to disguise his nervousness, he picked up his Martini glass, which was essentially empty except for the olive.

  “Brad wouldn’t mind. He’d want his best friend to take care of me. Look at it that way.” She leaned forward and pressed an intense and lingering kiss on his lips. The water from her wet hair dripped down around his neck, and he felt her wet breasts a
gainst his shirt. “I know you wouldn’t touch me while he was alive. No excuse now.” She set his glass aside, lifted each of his hands and placed them on her bare breasts.

  She leaned forward to kiss him again, and he raised his head to meet her. He kissed her softly and then took his hands away from her breasts. Too early to even think of intimacy.

  “Now we’re getting someplace. You haven’t done that since our date in high school.”

  “You’re talking about our one date in high school.” He remembered everything about that date. They had started dancing. He wanted to twirl her around as the other dancers were doing. But it wasn’t as easy as it looked. He tried it, was clumsy and screwed it up. His dancing was a disaster. She was embarrassed and demanded they leave immediately. He told himself he’d become the best dancer in the world. Back on her front porch, she stood and waited for him to take his kiss, so she could go inside. He leaned forward and kissed her. It was off center. Another screw-up. All that night he thought about how he could apologize for that kiss. He avoided her at school the next week and never asked her out again.

  She looked at him seriously and whispered, “I’ve wanted you all along. I even dreamed of divorcing him so we could be together. I was a silly girl back then. Now I’m free. We both are free to do what we want. I’m coming after you, Martin.”

  She had come on to him like this at times over the years. Each time, he’d wanted to believe she was sincere, yet it was just playful Jenna. Brad was around, and one didn’t mess with a friend’s wife, not a living friend anyway. Brad still seemed to be around. Martin felt he was still in some sort of triangle that included his dead friend. Was this a different woman sitting naked before him, a woman changed by her tragedy?

  It made no difference anyway; his role had now changed. Whether she was of sound mind or acting out of vulnerability, as best friend he must now wear the cloak of emotional control. He would demonstrate coolness and dispassion. “This isn’t right.”

  “Of course not. It’s exciting and naughty.” His reluctance didn’t dissuade her. “Not to worry. I’ve thought of everything. I should do some proper mourning, and you shouldn’t get involved so soon after a suspicious death. However, we can skip the mourning period if we’re discreet. I’ve already picked an ideal spot in the Caribbean. We’ll fly separately. We’ll meet in Saint Martin.”

  “When exactly did you pick this spot?”

  “If I told you it was on my mind for a long time, would you think I was wicked or take it as a compliment?”

  “Neither. I simply wouldn’t believe you.”

  “You’re wrong. For some time, I’ve thought of what I’d do after I divorced him. I’d get away for a while. You know, new beginnings.” She ignored his frown. “I know of a French guest chateau there, right on the beach. The beaches are clothing optional down there and we’re both in good shape. We’d fit right in. We could practice our French. We could lie around naked and take turns reading naughty French novels. Does that interest you? Please understand I want no commitment. When you’re tired of me, then we’re through. However, you might get to like it.”

  “All too marvelous and all too soon. I can’t start to think of anything like that until the dust settles on this terrible situation.”

  “You don’t have to be clever or seductive. All you do is show up. I’ll do the rest.”

  He straightened up on the chaise forcing her to pull back. She said loudly, “You are one infuriating man, Martin Bronner. Why don't you just fuck me and get past it?”

  She looked up, beyond his head. Detective Jaworski was standing a few feet away behind the hedge surrounding the back yard.

  “I knocked,” the detective said, looking in at them.

  Martin adjusted his clothing. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to watch how you console the grieving widow.”

  “Really, it does seem inappropriate for you to be walking around her private property without announcing yourself.”

  “Consider this my announcement. I’d like to talk to you downtown.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Martin spoke up. “Mrs. Ebert is still trying to adjust herself to this tragedy. It’s extremely inappropriate for her to leave her home at this time.”

  “She doesn’t have to leave. It’s you I want to talk to, Martin. Will fifteen minutes be enough time to zip up and get down there?”

  Jenna stepped away quickly and pointed at Martin. “Oh yes, it might have been Martin. That’s why I was yelling, to see if he knew anything. Brad couldn’t have stumbled drunk into his car. He wouldn’t have been able to find the garage let alone the damn door. He’d never even have found his keys and couldn’t have even opened the car door. Do you actually believe Brad started the car, turned off the air conditioning and lowered all the car windows? He was so hammered he couldn’t find his backside. Maybe Martin returned here late after the party. I had fallen asleep inside on the couch. I think he came in and started fondling me. He’d been drinking. I told him I could never be unfaithful to the memory of my husband. Don’t you see? Martin may have been out there with Brad. He probably killed my husband so he could have me.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Martin followed Detective Jaworski’s unmarked vehicle to the police station and now sat in the detective’s cubicle. He had been in this same setting the week before when being interrogated about the courtyard shooting. The police routine wasn’t upsetting; Jenna’s outburst was upsetting. Without stopping to take a breath, she had interrupted her seduction of him and accused him of murder.

  He said to the detective, “The poor woman was obviously hysterical. You couldn’t have believed any of that.”

  “Are you denying any intimacy with her?”

  “Why is that to the point?”

  “The point is a possible lover’s triangle and all that entails.”

  “Well yes, I’m denying any intimacy, of course.”

  “Even though she was naked in an open beach robe, and you were playing with her tits?”

  “I wasn’t playing with them. Merely...experiencing them. You misunderstood the situation. Not what you think.”

  “You mean like who should I believe, you or my lying eyes?”

  “We’ve been friends since grade school. It’s all meaningless between old friends.”

  “Fondling a woman’s breast wasn’t meaningless in my day. Damn, I knew I was born too soon. And the younger generation today, well, don’t get me started. Okay, if petting her boobs was meaningless give me the rundown on your meaningful actions. Begin with the party.”

  He explained driving to the party with Priscilla and leaving together while the party continued. He filled in a few details and ended by explaining being with Ted in the bar until two in the morning.

  “Mrs. Ebert told me all her guests were gone by eleven. You could have left the bar at two and driven back out to their house. So this Ted isn’t a very good alibi.”

  “I was home shortly after two. The caregiver for my father is quite alert. I’m sure she was aware of what time I got home.”

  “This Priscilla, what’s her full name and address? Same with this Ted. You have their phone numbers?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, call him right now. I’d like to talk with him.”

  “I’ll be glad to call him, but he hasn’t been answering. I’ve been trying to reach him for three days on another matter.” The detective waited while Martin dialed then left a voice mail to call back.

  “Where’s this guy live?”

  He gave him the address. Jaworski turned to a plain-clothed officer. “Moore, go find this Ted Cobalt. Ask him to come in.”

  Martin believed they had covered it all, yet Jaworski kept on with questions about the party and his relationship with Priscilla. Were there any threats or arguments? Where did Priscilla Fowler work? What kind of car did she drive?

  An attractive young woman in police uniform stuck her head around the corn
er of the cubicle and motioned to Jaworski with her hand up to her ear.

  “I have to take a call, Martin. I think we’re finished here. Can I ask you to wait in the lobby? I’ll be down in a minute.”

  The young woman stepped forward. “Let me show you back to the elevator, Mr. Bronner.”

  He knew the building, had been there many times both before and after becoming a lawyer. “Thanks, but I can find it. It’s down the main hall there and to the left.”

  “No problem I’m walking that way. I hope Eddy wasn’t too hard on you—the pressure is on.” Once they were at the elevator, she said, “There you go. My name’s Judy.”

  “Thank you, Judy. I’m Martin.”

  “I’ve seen you around. Nice finally speaking to you.” She went on down the hall.

  When he stepped off the elevator into the small first-floor lobby, he saw Sandy waiting. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Chip phoned and said you were being interviewed. Everything okay?”

  He nodded. “Detective Jaworski is coming down in a minute to say goodbye.

  “Chip said the police found the murder weapon.”

  “So, that’s good news.”

  “At Robert Frome’s condo in the dumpster wiped clean of prints.”

  “So are we back to the husband as the suspect?”

  “No, it’s suspicious when any evidence is clear of prints. Sounds to me like the gun was planted there. Chip told me something else you don’t want to hear. The unidentified prints found in Brad’s car belong to Priscilla.”

  “I thought we decided there are dozens of explanations for fingerprints in his car. Worthless evidence.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Jaworski stepped off the elevator and came over. He started to greet Sandy when Martin unexpectedly spoke up, “I just thought of something, Detective. Remember what Jenna said when she was accusing me of killing Brad.”