Twisted River

by Siobhan MacDonald

  “I know that, Oscar, I know,” Helen said, nodding.

  “Spike pointed out the hotel just up the street.” She tried to sound practical. “I guess we could all decamp there when the O’Briens get in? What do you think? I know your head’s in a mess right now, so you can let me take care of all of that—if you want.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I guess so. That would be great, Helen. We sure as hell can’t stay here.”

  He hadn’t left the house for nearly two days. They had arrived here so full of expectation. And in a few short hours they’d be leaving.

  Their hearts torn out of them.

  A broken family.

  Kate

  Kate had little memory of the hours that filled that last day in New York. She knew she’d packed and tidied the apartment. He had changed the travel arrangements. He had contacted the gardaí in Limerick and told them of his suspicions. He had phoned Spike.

  She remembered walking through the lobby, dragging her suitcase, eyes lowered, unable to look Du Bois in the face. She’d heard the confusion in the doorman’s voice as they left, three days early.

  Sitting on the plane home, she felt hollow inside. Dead. She and Mannix sat in a row in the middle aisle of the plane, separated by the children. Kate could hardly bring herself to look at him. There was no way of putting this one right. No brushing this one under the carpet. This was no petty theft. No stupid punt gone wrong. No feckless harebrained scheme in tatters. This was on a grander scale. This was infidelity and murder. And Mannix was guilty of both. No matter what he said, Mannix had blood on his hands now.

  Kate knew that life could never be the same again. Her marriage was shot to bits. Family life, as she had naïvely known it, was over. It had all come crashing down around her ears in a way she never could have imagined. Had she slept at all last night? She didn’t know. Lying trancelike and alone on the wide bed, she had listened to Mannix snoring in fits and starts in the living room. The steady sound making her more angry. How dare he relax enough to fall asleep? What kind of man was he? Where was his conscience?

  Over the last twenty-four hours, Kate questioned her judgment during their years together. She’d been so foolish. And, oh, so naïve. A leopard doesn’t change his spots. Isn’t that what her mother always said? Oh, my—what would her mother say about this? Not even she could have foreseen disaster on such a scale.

  Time and again, Kate had ignored or dismissed his bad behavior, the risks he took. It was what made him different. That is what she’d told herself. She’d fallen in love with his weaknesses, convincing herself that was what made him interesting. Interesting, for God’s sake! What was the matter with her? Sure—Mannix was different from all the other men who’d ever pursued her. He wasn’t staid or boring. She’d been attracted to that in the early days. Flaws were what made people interesting, she’d convinced herself.

  Over the course of their marriage, Kate had seen Mannix grow increasingly unpredictable. Increasingly reckless. Mannix was the one who insisted on investing abroad. “It’s a sure thing,” he said. Like everything was a sure thing with Mannix. Until it wasn’t. And as time went on, she found herself envying friends and colleagues with solid partners and husbands. A safe harbor was what she needed. They had kids. Responsibilities. She’d forgiven Mannix so much over the years. But no, not this. This could never be forgiven.

  Kate had to face an unpleasant truth: She had gone into this marriage with her eyes wide open. She too had been reckless. Her mother had warned her. Even Spike in his best man’s speech had saluted her bravery in taking on his brother. Everyone had laughed, toasting their union with pink champagne. And she had laughed as heartily as the rest of them. She’d prove them all wrong. She’d show them all. Or so she thought at the time.

  What, indeed, would her mother say when she learned the whole truth? Kate had seen precious little of her mother over the last few years. Alice Kennedy came to the house for the kids’ birthdays, but more often than not there would be some excuse or other when an invitation was extended. Once they had married, Alice Kennedy never overtly criticized her son-in-law again. And Kate sensed it was probably better to keep her husband and her mother out of each other’s way. It hurt Kate, but it was yet another situation she chose to ignore. Another little secret she kept to herself.

  Kate sighed as she stretched out a leg under the seat in front. She’d had the capacity to forgive the stupid stuff Mannix had done in the past, but he’d broken her illusion of what she thought they’d had—a solid marriage. She didn’t have the capacity to forgive him that. He’d willfully and wantonly put them all in danger. He’d invited a deranged woman into their lives. Kate shivered. An innocent woman lay murdered, her skull smashed in, all because Mannix had fancied a bit on the side.

  Kate’s thoughts turned to Fergus and Izzy. Mannix hadn’t been thinking of them either. He’d betrayed them all, each and every one of them. Her mother had been right after all. “Those O’Briens have the morals of alley cats,” she used to say in the days before they got married. And sure enough, though it had taken long enough for Kate to realize it, an alley cat was what Kate got.

  The mother in her was seething. Mannix had strayed and shown affection to another woman’s child. That too she would not forgive. Over the course of the last day or so, Kate had experienced every possible negative emotion ever felt. Fury, betrayal, anger, jealousy, bitterness, and, every now and then, an overwhelming sadness at what was lost.

  It came to her then that she no longer had a picture in her head of her and Mannix growing old together. She just couldn’t conjure it up. She couldn’t imagine it anymore. What was needed now was a different vision of her future. A vision without Mannix. And, painful though it was, she needed to reimagine it all. She would be strong. For herself and her children, she would be strong. She had made one really bad life choice. She alone could try to fix it.

  She was tired now. Tired of keeping secrets. With another long deep sigh, she realized that she was actually tired of him. Exhausted from him. Even if she could ever forgive, she no longer had enough energy to go around. The energy she did have would have to be saved for herself and the children. It was over. Mannix O’Brien was out of time.

  • • •

  Kate needed to phone her mother. Shortly after Mannix told Kate, and though she was still reeling from the shock, Kate knew she had to phone her. This could not wait until she got back home. It would be all over the news. As Kate shakily picked up the handset in the Harveys’ flat, it occurred to her that Hazel Harvey would never again hold this handset, never again have a conversation on this phone. Kate gulped. She had no idea what she was going to say when her mother answered. She was struggling to hold her emotions in check.

  “Mum?”

  “Kate? Kate, is that you?”

  “Yes, Mum, it’s me . . .” And suddenly, all her resolve, all her composure, evaporated. She was the young girl who’d become separated from her friends and missed the last train home from a concert in Dublin. She was the nine-year-old who’d been dragged off her bike by a passing truck on the way to school, whose deeply gashed leg needed stitching. The years peeled away and all of a sudden she was a sobbing child again. No longer a mother or a wife. A child.

  “Oh, Mum . . .” She tried to speak but her words were strangled.

  “Kate, what is it? Are you all right? Is it the kids?”

  Her mother sounded alarmed.

  “No, no, we’re fine. We’re all all right,” Kate managed to say.

  “You’re still in New York?”

  “Yes, yes.” Kate sniffed, conscious that the kids were sleeping. She didn’t want to wake them.

  “Oh, Mum—you were right. I know you’re going to say ‘I told you so’ and I’m so sorry I never listened to you. You were so right about Mannix. And now something dreadful has happened. Something tragic . . .”

  Kate tried to get herself unde
r control. Neither did she want to wake Mannix, who was snoring on the sofa.

  “I would never say ‘I told you so,’” said her mother gently.

  Strangely, these words made Kate want to weep all the more.

  “I’ve always been here for you, Kate. Whether you felt that or not. Always. Now, please tell me what I can do.”

  As ever, Alice Kennedy was practical.

  “I don’t really think you can do anything—not now, at least.” Kate sniffed. “But I am going to need you over the next few weeks and months, Mum. I am really going to need you. And so are the kids.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. You know that, Kate.”

  The quality of the landline was very good, and taking a deep breath, Kate began to feel slightly better.

  “Mum?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re probably going to hear some pretty awful stuff on the news over the next few days . . .”

  “I see.” Alice Kennedy didn’t sound too perturbed.

  So Kate just blurted it out.

  “Our American houseguest was murdered in our house.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath this time.

  A pause.

  “I see,” her mother said. “But you and the kids are okay—you’re telling me the truth now?”

  “Yes, Mum. We’re fine. It looks like we’re going to be placed under police protection as soon as we arrive home. It’s all very complicated. I’ll explain when we get back tomorrow.”

  There was a lengthier pause this time.

  “Okay, sweetheart. I don’t need to know the ins and outs just yet. You just call me when you get home. I’ll come as soon as you want me.”

  If Alice Kennedy really wanted to know, the truth was that her daughter wanted her now. By her side this very minute. But Kate would have to wait. She knew that from now on, there were many things she would have to do by herself. And she would. She could. Somehow, she would manage.

  “Thanks, Mum. Thanks for everything,” said Kate, sounding a lot more composed than she felt. “And Mum—I’m so sorry I let you down.”

  “Kate, you’re my child and you have never let me down. Just make sure you come home safely.”

  “I will . . .”

  As Kate quietly docked the receiver, she stretched her neck from side to side. For the first time in the midst of this hellish nightmare, she felt less alone. It had been a long, long time since she’d had an open exchange with her mother.

  • • •

  But then there was the fear.

  Every now and again Kate had to block it out, before it threatened to fill her up and swallow her whole. It was an ongoing battle—Kate versus the fear. She could not afford to give in to it, to let it take her over.

  Kate tried not to think about the Collins woman and where she was. Just how crazy and deranged was this woman? Had she come to the attention of the gardaí before? Often it was only in the wake of a tragedy that people realized the clues were there all the time. That there had been a history. Signs that had been ignored.

  Did Joanne Collins look unbalanced to the naked eye? Was she the sort of woman you could pick out in a crowd by her strange gait or by the look in her eyes? Or had she the detachment and composure of a seasoned killer? Was it possible that she had done this before?

  The masochist in Kate wanted to know exactly what this woman looked like. What did a killer look like? What was it about her that had attracted Mannix? Had she laughed readily at his easy charm? Had she played it up as turbulence hit the plane? Was she small and feminine or toned and athletic? Did she eat her food nicely or enjoy it with the same lust she had for Mannix? Had she chased him or had he chased her? Or did Joanne Collins simply radiate wanton abandon, sheer raw available sex, in some unhinged way?

  Kate couldn’t demean herself to ask. Her shattered and fragile pride would not let her stoop that low. All she could do was imagine what the woman looked like, and then, perversely, try to block out all the disturbing images she’d conjured up.

  He had assured her the gardaí had things under control. Assuming they hadn’t found Joanne Collins by the time they arrived back in Ireland, Kate would be put under police protection as soon as they arrived at Shannon Airport.

  The gardaí knew where the woman lived. They knew where her child went to school. Surely they should be able to pick her up easily enough? Maybe Joanne Collins had gone into hiding. Maybe she was good at disappearing, at reinventing herself. Maybe they would never find her. Maybe Kate would have to live the rest of her life forever looking over her shoulder. Stop! Stop it! Get a grip, Kate! She couldn’t afford to think like this. She had to focus.

  “What do you suggest we tell the kids?” Kate asked Mannix before they left the apartment on Riverside Drive. She was gulping one last coffee, trying to muster some energy for what lay ahead. She hoped he could hear the disgust in her voice.

  “About what exactly?” he asked nervously.

  “They’re expecting only Spike at the airport in Shannon. I would imagine they’re going to find it a tad peculiar being met by the Special Branch of the gardaí when we land, don’t you?” Kate was finding it almost impossible to sound civil, but for the sake of the children she knew she’d have to try.

  “I’m not sure exactly . . .” He hesitated. “Do you have something in mind? Something that’s not going to scare them too much . . . especially Ferg . . . he’s the one who could get really upset . . .”

  “It’s a bit late for all that now, don’t you think, Mannix? You should have thought of that before.” Her voice left her throat in a monotone this time. Calm. More controlled.

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” he muttered. “I’m so very, very sorry . . . if only you knew . . .”

  “Enough!” Kate put up her hands. She didn’t want to hear it.

  She looked at him now. At his sheepish expression, looking for solace. In that moment, she wanted to hurt him. Really, really badly. She wanted to reach inside herself and scoop out all the hurt and heartache and drive it deep inside him, twisting and turning it until the pain of it choked him.

  She took another deep breath.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “We are going to have to tell them something close to the truth. Some made-up fairy story is not going to wash with Izzy. She’s far too clever, so let’s not treat her like a fool.”

  “Okay . . .” Mannix nodded.

  “We are going to tell them that a mentally unstable woman has been committing random attacks in the city and that until she is caught, we are being given protection—seeing as she’s suspected of being involved in the death of Hazel Harvey.”

  Mannix looked alarmed. “Oh, Kate, I don’t know. Random attacks. A mentally unstable woman. What are they going to make of that?”

  “As I said already, Mannix, you should have thought of all of that before,” she replied coldly.

  “And you know what?” Kate added.

  “What?”

  “You are going to be the one to tell them. And you are going to tell them now, before we leave this apartment. I’ll go and call them into the living room.”

  Kate listened, her heart sinking, as she watched a white-faced Mannix tell Izzy and Fergus what would be waiting for them when they arrived in Shannon. She watched their little faces as they listened carefully.

  Izzy said nothing at first, analyzing and weighing up this disturbing information. It was Fergus who broke the silence.

  “Gardaí outside our house as well?” His eyes grew wide behind his glasses. “Will it be the Armed Response Unit with the flashing lights? You know—the special cops with guns? Frankie Flynn was bragging that it was outside his uncle’s house last month!”

  Mannix said nothing, looking to Kate for direction. But Kate too was flabbergasted. And for the first time since this nightmare had unfolded
she felt the beginnings of a smile. A bitter smile. Could it really be that her little Fergus thought there was actually some prestige in having the Special Branch or the Armed Response Unit outside their home?

  “Well, Soldier, we don’t know yet,” she said gently. “It may well be that this poor sick lady will have been found and arrested by the time we get home. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Wait and see, wait and see,” chanted Fergus, marching up and down the hallway.

  Mannix shot Kate a look, grateful that she’d rescued him.

  “But why did this woman kill Hazel Harvey?” asked Izzy quietly. She was not so easily satisfied.

  “We don’t know that yet, Izzy,” said Kate. “She’s a very sick person. She must be. It may be that she escaped from a psychiatric ward. We just don’t know. It’s all very sad. A real tragedy. We must keep the Harvey family in our prayers. The important thing now is that we are going to be safe. The gardaí are going to look after us.”

  “And are they going to look after everyone else on Clancy Strand?”

  Izzy certainly knew the questions to ask. Mannix looked awkward, but Kate did her best to maintain the same tone of voice.

  “I guess so, Izzy. But I imagine they’ll be parked outside our house.”

  “But . . .”

  Before Izzy had a chance to ask another question, Kate interjected, “Time to go now, kids. Let’s get our suitcases. Du Bois will have that cab waiting by now!”

  Izzy’s face set in a frown as she went to get her suitcase.

  • • •

  As the flight captain announced they were flying over Greenland, Kate’s thoughts again turned to Oscar Harvey and his children. Poor tragic Hazel Harvey got a homecoming she never expected. A final homecoming. Kate closed her eyes. Whatever the strength of emotion she was feeling, she could only imagine Oscar Harvey’s grief, the shock and confusion of his kids. Two families destroyed because of Mannix. Kate bit the insides of her cheeks. The stupid, selfish, faithless shit. She’d had her chances since they’d been married. Guys who’d shown an interest. Who would have taken flirting to another level. But she’d ignored the signals. She’d made her choices. She was married. She was faithful.