by Amy Johnson
***
Finally, an officer came in and collected her and she was led down a long hall decorated with photographs of officers both past and present in various situations. She was led through a door into a spacious office where Jack sat along with a man who looked like he was a ruthless all business kind of guy, Sgt. Wagner, another man who she assumed was Wagner’s partner, and her father. Jack immediately sent her a look that said shut-up-and-listen. She nodded and looked back at her father who didn’t seem the least bit worried. He had probably taped Jeopardy, Megan decided, and there weren’t any games on in the morning so he was probably safe. Jack lightly patted her thigh as he introduced her to her attorney. “Megan, this is Donald Templeton, your father and I have retained him to represent you.”
I don’t need an attorney, she wanted to say but instead she simply nodded.
The Chief was next to speak, his voice deep, but gentle, his eyes almost as black as night under Grouch Marks style eye brows. “Mrs. Malone, first of all I want you to know that I’m very sorry about your husband,” he paused and folded his beefy hands, resting them on his desk. “Let me take a moment to bring you up to date. Your husband was found dead in his studio this morning by our officers who had gone there to question him about the incidents of last night and his association with the men who were responsible for the previous incidents at your home.”
She nodded, unable to speak. Jack found her arm and lightly caressed it giving her silent support and comfort.
“We have confirmed your alibi and collaborated your statement as well as those of Mr. Westin and your father’s with the previous reports and the events of last night.” Megan nodded again, feeling like one of Ted’s ridiculous bobbing doll figures and the Chief frowned.
“However, there are a lot of things that are pointing to you in an unfavorable manner.”
“Like what?” Megan asked, surprised her voice still worked.
The Chief consulted a file on his desk and diverted his gaze to the attorney. “Let’s just take this slowly Mrs. Malone. From what I understand, you found out your husband was having an affair and according to one of Mr. Malone’s associates, you became violent and split his lip during a fit of rage.”
One of Ted’s associates? Tiffany. She was the only one Ted associated with.
Megan opened her mouth to explain but her lawyer quieted her.
“And then Mrs. Malone, there was that unfortunate marble incident and your husband’s repeated accusation to the hospital staff that you were trying to kill him, first by poisoning him and then by uh the marble thing.” He stifled a laugh and raised his hand. “But you must believe me, Mrs. Malone; I’m inclined to disregard anything he said in the hospital as he was apparently not in his right mind. I understand he was under the influence of some mighty strong pain medication and understandably so. I would imagine his condition was quite painful.”
“And then there’s the matter of the assault on your doorstep while he was in his hospital gown. According to him, you beat him with a rolling pin while your grandmother uh took a set of pliers to his uh genital region.”
Had Ted called the cops on her? How the hell did they know all this?
The Chief answered that question without her asking him to do so. “We picked your husband up for indecent exposure as several neighbors had called and reported a man streaking through the area and he told us what happened, but refused to press charges. We figured he’d suffered enough and didn’t charge him. My guys were rolling on the floor with laughter and making new commitments to remain faithful to their wives for fear of a woman scorned.” The chief gave a hearty laugh and Megan felt some of the tension leave her knotted shoulders. Her father was smiling too. But Jack remained stone cold serious so Megan stiffened.
“And we can’t ignore the fact that Mr. Malone was shot in his studio with no sign of forced entry and he didn’t try to defend himself which leads me to believe that he was shot by someone he knew.” Well, duh, Chief. Our tax dollars pay for these observations that could easily be made by a kindergartener. “And we do have a witness that described a woman fitting your description leaving the scene, in a car described as the one you drive.”
“But I was with…” Megan was stopped again by her attorney’s hand tugging her arms gently.
“Mr. Westin,” the Chief finished for her. “I know that, but there is the matter of the gun.” Megan gulped. Okay whoever she’d pissed off hadn’t taken it lightly.
“The gun,” the Chief continued, “which we believe to be the one that killed Mr. Malone was found under the front seat of your car along with a lengthy letter from the deceased addressed to you,” he paused and studied her face. “So what we’re going to need to do is…”
Mr. Templeton spoke on Megan’s behalf. “You have our complete cooperation. My client will be happy to comply with the necessary fingerprinting and ballistic tests needed to eliminate her as a suspect and clear her name.”
The Chief smiled. “Just like that?”
“Yes sir,” Mr. Templeton said, “I believe my client to be innocent and I’m sure she would like to get this whole ordeal behind her as quickly as possible.”
“OK, then Sgt. Wagner, get this young lady printed and then turn her over to ballistics.” He turned back to Megan and spoke in an almost paternal tone “Mrs. Malone, I want you to know that I truly believe you are being framed. I appreciate your cooperation on this matter and hope you the best. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.” With that she was escorted by Sgt. Wagner and her attorney out of the room. Jack and her father both smiled at her then and at that moment she knew everything was going to be okay.
Jack was waiting for her when she was finished and released to go home. She had been told to stay in town and she gave them Jack’s number and address so that she could be reached. Jack rose from the rickety chair in the lobby and took her arm as he escorted her to the door. Once they were in the truck, she had no idea what to say, so she simply laid her hand on top of his on the console and rubbed it. He looked up and she said, “Hi.” So it was lame. She was drained and she had no idea what the appropriate thing to say to your sort of boyfriend would be after he’d just spent hours at the police station helping you out of being suspected for murder.
“Hi, yourself,” he replied, which was equally lame. At least they were consistent. He rubbed her cheek with the side of his hand. “You okay?”
Sure peachy! “I guess, just a little overwhelmed I think.”
He laced her fingers around his. Through eyes full of love and sincerity he said, “Just takes time sweetheart. I’m here for you.”
“I know.” She smiled at him although it didn’t come close to touching her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, baby.”
***
Back at Jack’s she made the appropriate phone calls to Ted’s parents and business clients. His mother had been so distraught Megan’s heart ached for her. Although Megan had always gotten along with her in-laws, they’d never been close. Ted’s parents had moved to Wyoming a year after Megan and Ted had married and, aside from the occasional visit or phone call, they didn’t speak much and Megan got the impression it had quite a bit to do with her. They hadn’t much cared for Megan from the get go and nothing she ever did would have made her good enough for their son. Anthony, Ted’s brother, had once told her that Ted could have married Queen Elizabeth and that still wouldn’t have been good enough. He said he’d quit trying to please his parents years ago and suggested she do the same.
Megan had chosen to avoid discussing the circumstances of Ted’s death or who was responsible. Jack had said she had nothing to worry about because she was innocent; he knew it and she did too. Still the police thing had shaken her up a bit and truth be told her faith in the justice system wasn’t all that great. Just look at the Madrino’s. Jack said they’d both been in a lot of trouble and they were still free. Free to sell drugs and possibly kill her late husband.
Jack came back into the room
carrying ham and cheese sandwiches, chips and sodas. He sat a paper plate in front of her and opened her coke can.
“Thanks,” she said, not touching the food.
“You need to eat, Megan.” He was right, she did need to eat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything to eat. She’d been too busy making love with Jack and being firebombed to worry about trivial things such as food.
“My mom is coming to pick me up in a while,” she said. “We’ve got to go to the funeral home and make some arrangements.”
“You need help?” Jack would just as soon toss Ted in a hefty bag and toss him on the curb for garbage pickup but he didn’t think that would set well with Megan.
“No, I think we can handle it. It shouldn’t be too hard, since he wanted to be cremated. I told his mom I’d have it done and then Fed-Ex her his ashes but she insists on a small ceremony here with his friends. I started to tell her he didn’t have any friends but figured it wouldn’t do any good. She’s hell bent on being here for his funeral.”
“Maybe she just needs closure. Really, that’s the purpose of funerals. It gives the family a chance to say goodbye and remember their loved ones.”
Megan nodded and fought back tears. Jack rubbed her back and said, “Go ahead and cry honey. You need to. It helps, trust me. I cried for days when my mother died and its part of the healing process.”
Megan sniffled and shook her head. “It’s not that. I’m not crying because Ted’s dead. I mean don’t get me wrong. I hated him, but I am sad that his life ended so soon and in such a tragic way.”
Jack hauled her into his arms. “Then what’s wrong?”
“I’m going to hell, that’s what.” Jack searched her face comically. “Yep, first class straight to hell.”
No more pain pills for this little bent angel. “Why?” Jack asked.
“Because I just found out that my husband of ten years is dead, violently murdered in his studio, and all I can think about is you and how good it feels when you touch me, how my heart flitters when you’re around and how heavenly it feels when you make love to me.” Jack hid his smile and stroked her hair lightly. “It’s like I just want to get him in the ground and get back in bed with you. It’s horrible.” For Ted maybe, Jack thought. It wasn’t half bad for Jack.
He went for the standard response. “You’re just under a lot of stress right now, baby.”
“I guess. I think maybe my marriage has been over for a long time and I was just realizing it. And he’s done so much to me in the last couple weeks, I’m just still too angry to grieve for him.”
“That could be it.”
“Well I’m going to get dressed. I have an idiot to bury and my mom will be here shortly.” She broke the embrace and kissed Jack sweetly on the lips and made a beeline for the shower.
***
“$600 bucks for an urn?” Josie shouted. “These prices are ridiculous. I say we just stuff him in a zip-lock bag.”
“I got an empty shoe box we can put him in. It could be like a miniature coffin and it only cost me nine bucks.” Granny offered helpfully.
“Shhh!” Mrs. Johnson said outraged by their disrespect of the dead. “We’re buying an urn and that’s final. Now shut up! This is hard enough on Megan as it is.” She squeezed her daughter’s shoulder offering support.
“Just tag him and bag him,” Megan told the funeral director, a man in his seventies whose clothing suggested he never quite emerged completely from the fifties.
The man gave her his best used car smile. “Might I show you something from our catalog? We have some very lovely…”
“Look, my husband was a liar, a cheater, a drug addict and dealer, and basically the lowest piece of scum I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing. I’m not mourning his death, in fact I’ve already moved on and by this time tonight I’ll probably be hitting the sheets with my new flavor of the week.” Her mother had to sit down. “If I had my choice I’d skewer the bastard and toss him on the grill, but I’m sure the police frown on that kind of behavior and probably I would need a license for such things. So really all I need from you is for you to sell me the cheapest, crappiest, low budget urn you’ve got and make me a hell of a deal on barbequing the idiot so I can write you a check and get the hell out of here.”
“Preach on sister!” Granny hollered.
“Why me God?” Mrs. Johnson asked.
“Funeral shopping is the shit!” Josie commented.
The old man pursed his lips and opened a catalog showing Megan the bottom of the barrel in urns. “This one right here will run you a hundred and fifty dollars, plus tax and shipping of course.”
Megan dug her check book out. “Sold!”
“One fifty!” Josie shouted. “Don’t you have one that’s been dropped or something for say around twenty bucks? We could super glue it back together. Ted would never know.”
“I feel the fires of hell burning the soles of my feet now,” Mrs. Johnson cried.
“Oh can it, you big wuss!” Granny hollered and then moving like a cat she walked over to the display of expensive urns and with a wicked gleam in her eyes she innocently knocked one off with the tip of her finger. It hit the floor with a clatter sending pieces of glazed glass everywhere. “Oh will you look at that,” she said with all the innocence of a catholic school girl. “I think it’s a sign from God.”
“Yeah that you’re going to hell!” Mrs. Carrigan blurted.
Megan stood shell shocked and then started laughing hysterically.
“Okay, we’re gonna need a dust pan, a zip lock bag, and some super glue,” Josie said. “What do we owe you?”
Jack was laughing so hard he had iced tea spewing out his nose. “I can’t believe your grandmother did that!”
“Believe it. I thought the old man was going to drop dead on the spot. He was utterly mortified.”
“But you got the urn and everything arranged?”
“Yep, I ordered the one for a hundred and fifty bucks, scheduled his service and got the hell out of there,” Megan said, around a mouthful of popcorn.
“And your mom? How’s she holding up? She hasn’t called yet.”
“I think she’s disowned me. She hit me with her purse and wouldn’t stop until I promised her I wouldn’t have sex with you tonight out of respect for Ted.”
“That’s only right I guess.” Jack said remembering the infamous brown purse beating he’d gotten at his first encounter with Megan’s mother.
“Well, since it’s already past eleven, if we started a little foreplay now, we could probably be all the way up to the good stuff by mid-night. ‘Course my mother would probably kill me and bury me in the super glued urn if she ever found out.”
Jack smiled and brushed his lips against her ear. “Mmmm. My lips are sealed.”
And at 12:01, the fireworks started only to be interrupted by the phone ringing.
Megan belted it off the nightstand.
“I’m changing my number,” Jack said.
“It won’t do any good. She knows where you live.”
“Then let’s move to Somalia.”
***
Two weeks later, Megan sat nestled next to Jack on his leather couch. Bitty and Bugs, her four legged children sat at Jack’s feet looking like starving Ethiopian puppies hoping he’d accidentally drop a Cheeto. Spot was flirting with a rather eccentric blowfish in Jack’s aquarium, strutting his little fishy butt as he swam circles around his bowl. They were like a dysfunctional Dr. Doolittle family. All they needed was a smart mouthed bird and a stuck up cat and they’d be in business.
Later Jack took her to his bedroom and made mind blowing love to her yet again and she woke in his strong arms completely sated and wanting even more of him.
Whoa Mama! Holy cow! Talk about your mind blowing, headboard thumping, hot, steamy, wild animal sex. Megan smiled in spite of herself. She’d had sex before with Ted of course, even good sex from time to time, but this…this was blissful hysteria. Passionate, wild,
no holds barred brain freezing pleasure. She should be asleep, God knows she was tired. Jack had passed out over and hour ago and after the workout they’d just had she wouldn’t be surprised if he slept for the next two days straight.
Her stomach growled and she thought about cheesecake. Sex and cheesecake. No great sex and strawberry deluxe cheesecake. Now that is living the American dream. Carefully, Megan untangled her legs from Jack’s and lifted his hand from her shoulder. She was just about to lift her head from his arm when he mumbled something in his sleep and snuggled her close.
She grinned. He’d said her name. He was dreaming about her. He mumbled something else and she froze.
What did he say?
It sounded like he said…
Surely he didn’t say…
Shit! He said it again. Suddenly all thoughts of cheesecake were gone. Her hunger had turned into nausea as she replayed his words in her head, then he said it again.
Double, triple shit.
“Marry me, Megan.” Those three little words were unmistakably clear even in his slurred, sex drugged sleep. “Marry me, Megan.”
Chapter NineteenMarry me, Megan. What was he, crazy? She had to get out of there. Now! Before he woke up and said those three ridiculous words in a conscious state of mind.
Sure she cared about him, she knew she loved him, but enough for marriage? Hell no! No way! Not now. Maybe not ever. So what if he was the sweetest, most sensitive and decent man she knew. So what if sex with him was off the charts. So what if the last couple weeks of her life had been the happiest she’d ever known. All of that was all good and fine but not a reason to marry him. Certainly not now after they’d known each other for a month. Hell, Ted was barely in the ground. The last thing on her mind should be marriage.
She stole a long, dreamy look at Jack. His eyes were closed, his jaw was stubbled and his hair stuck up in every direction. He was the essence of masculine perfection, gorgeous and content. He made her feel like a woman, a beautiful woman in and out of the bedroom. He made her laugh one minute and had her mad as hell the next. He made love to her with a ferocious passion that curled her toes and made her heart hammer in her chest so hard she sometimes feared it would pop out. He held her when she cried and cracked corny jokes to cheer her up. But most of all he made her feel alive.