Perfect

by Harry Kraus

  And to top everything off, in the middle of his despair, Cindy Swanson whisked into his life. But the allure of secret intimacy had failed to satisfy. Instead of relief, his brief exhilaration turned into compounding regret.

  He slowly chewed the chalky antacid tablets to try and quell the fiery discomfort in his upper abdomen. Now Wendi wants to adopt a baby. But I’m not the Christian man she thinks I am. I’ d always thought I could be the perfect husband, but now I’ve cheated on the only woman I’ve ever loved. He wiped his forehead with the back of his sport-coat sleeve and turned into the drive leading to Cindy’s apartment. He wasn’t sure how to handle Anders, but he knew what he needed to do to preserve his relationship with Wendi. He needed to put a full stop to his affair. He’d tell Cindy it was over. He’d go back to his wife and never stray from his pretty little brunette again.

  He walked up the sidewalk to her door, before knocking quickly. A moment later, the door was open and Cindy reached for his hand, tugging him towards her front room. “I just knew you’d come,” she said. She leaned in for a kiss. Henry complied. A kiss of greeting without passion.

  She narrowed her eyes and stepped away, her fingers tugging at her collar before coming to rest in a fist in front of her heart. She started shaking her head before he could speak. “You’ve come to tell me it’s over.”

  “Cindy, I — ” he stopped, the words dry in his throat.

  “You said things last night. You wanted a new start. You wanted freedom.”

  “I meant those things. It’s just — well, Wendi — ”

  “You said you didn’t love her.”

  Cindy’s eyes began to glisten. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. She stepped forward, falling into his arms. She kissed him, an act of desperation. Once. Twice. He didn’t want to respond. But her mouth was open against his, trembling, searching.

  One moment she was in his arms. The next, she was on the floor, their kiss interrupted by a powerful hand that grabbed her from behind and tossed her aside. As Cindy screamed, Henry saw him standing in the partially open doorway. Anders!

  Jesse Anders pointed a gun at Henry’s chest. “Seems you have a more interesting life than I imagined.”

  “How’d you get here?”

  Anders sneered. “I followed you from the hospital. It wasn’t hard.”

  He reached over and yanked Cindy to her feet by her hair and looked at Henry. “You’re going to be sorry you ever threatened to expose me.”

  He shoved Cindy forward into Henry’s arms and shut the door.

  Henry stepped in front of Cindy. “What do you want?”

  Anders’ hands trembled as he pointed the pistol towards the duo. His forehead glistened with sweat. “It’s time you and I came to an understanding. I’m the one in charge and you’re going to listen to me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You just don’t get it, do you, Doc?” Anders replied with a redneck drawl. “You have no idea what kind of suffering my Linda goes through every day. And every day, I promise myself that I’m going to make you pay.”

  “What will it take? Money? You could sue me.”

  “Sit down!” Anders pointed the gun to the corner of the room. “Over there. Against the wall.” He shook his head. “Oh, we’re way beyond that, Doc. For just one day, I want you to feel what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  Cindy sat beside Henry on the floor. “Who is he?” She spoke softly into Henry’s ear, but Anders overheard.

  “Tell her, Doc,” he sneered. “We’re business partners, aren’t we?”

  Henry shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on the gun. Anders appeared to be high, or in withdrawal. “He’s the husband of a patient.”

  “Tell her what you did, Doc.” He paused. “My wife is paralyzed. All because of Dr. Stratford.”

  Henry tried to keep his voice steady. “Your wife is paralyzed because you were driving drunk, Jesse.”

  Anger flared red in Anders’ face. He lurched forward and kicked Cindy in the forehead, snapping her head back against the wall.

  Henry gasped, and leaned over Cindy as she slumped to the floor. She moaned and her eyes appeared unfocused. “Cindy?”

  She coughed once, splattering Henry with spit before whispering his name. “Henry.”

  He watched as her pupils disappeared beneath her upper lids. He put his fingers against her carotid artery in her neck. The pulse was steady and strong. “Cindy?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Anders kicked Henry’s foot. “Say it!”

  Henry stared at the crazed man and shook his head.

  Anders lifted his foot, apparently to stomp on Cindy’s head.

  “Stop,” Henry screamed. “It was my fault. I didn’t see the break on the X-ray!” The surgeon knelt over Cindy, shielding her from another blow. He started to weep. “I didn’t see the abnormality. It was my fault.” He looked up at Anders’ hardened face. “What do you want from me?” He felt his voice closing around a sob. “Why are you torturing me?”

  “You threatened to cut me off.”

  Henry shook his head. “You killed Yolanda Pate.”

  “The blonde? What was she doing in your bed, Doc?” He shrugged. “It was dark. I thought she was your wife.”

  “You would kill my wife and expect me to cooperate with you?”

  “Oh, you’ll cooperate. How much would you lose if the law finds out about the drugs, Doc?”

  Henry felt his gut tighten. “Stay away from my wife.”

  “Then you’ll cooperate?”

  He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Promise me you’ll stay away from Wendi.”

  Anders backed away slowly, smiling while keeping his gun trained on the surgeon. Then, slowly, he pulled out a wrinkled paper that had been folded into his shirt pocket. “Here,” he said. “Time to write some new prescriptions.” He handed the paper to Henry. “If you do right, Doc, I’ll leave Wendi alone.”

  Henry turned his attention to Cindy. Her face was ashen. He lowered his cheek to graze gently against her nose. “She’s not breathing!”

  With Henry late for dinner, I entered our bedroom and flipped on the light, feeling a little more than weird about the fact that someone had died in my house and in that very place. The 6000 had been stripped bare to the mattress. I supposed the police must have taken the sheets for evidence. What they were so concerned about frightened and angered me. Chris Black had come just shy of accusing me of murder, something absurd. Yolanda was heartbroken and unstable. Her death was a tragedy, and maybe I’d gotten in her way by falling for her fiancé, but I’d never intended for her to come along and react the way she had.

  Unsettled, I spent less than a minute in my bedroom before walking back into the den, where Rene was reading a book about dealing with HIV. “Let’s pack up Yolanda’s things,” I said. “Her parents will be wanting them.”

  Rene grunted, and I plodded towards the basement to the guest room, where I emptied the dresser of Yolanda’s things, placing them neatly into her suitcase. I was holding a picture of Jack when Rene came in.

  “She had good taste in men,” Rene said, nodding her head towards the photograph.

  I let down my guard. “Really.” I avoided my sister’s gaze and quickly placed the picture facedown on one of Yolanda’s wool sweaters.

  Rene was more interested in the clothes than the picture anyway. She pulled a sweater out of the suitcase and held it up. It had a weave of grays, purple, and forest green. “Ooh. This girl did have good taste,” she said.

  I shook my head, thinking about my life. I’ve never really liked wool sweaters. Oh, I’ve worn plenty of them, but only for the looks. Wool always seemed to prickle my skin, and I was relieved when I could finally shed the sweater in the privacy of estrogen central and scratch all the places where the wool had offended. Maybe I’m not supposed to be wearing sheep’s clothing if I’m not a sheep. I shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “You guess so? Loo
k at this label,” Rene said, pointing at the designer insignia.

  “I’m going to start shopping at Wal-Mart.”

  Rene laughed. “And I’m going to date another musician.”

  I looked at her. She didn’t believe me. The problem was, I wasn’t sure I did either. So far, my changed life, complete with a new man and romantic heart-communication on the sands of Jamaica, was more talk than walk. I sighed. “OK, maybe I’ll start with buying some socks there.” I smiled. “I’ll work my way in.”

  Rene started through a stack of underwear. “Whoa,” she said. “Look at these.”

  Red lace and very sexy. I didn’t want to think about why she’d bought them or whom she dreamed of showing them to. “Put those down,” I scolded. “Have some respect for the dead.”

  “That’s just it, Wendi. She’s dead. She wouldn’t care.”

  I plucked the panties from her hand and threw them back in the suitcase. “I’m trying to straighten this place up.”

  Rene disregarded my advice and kept oohing and ahhing her way through Yolanda’s wardrobe.

  “Stop it,” I said. “Hey, I’ll let you go through my closet if you want. I’m sure there’s something in there that you’d like.”

  “You’re too fat.”

  “And you’re pregnant. It will fit soon.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me.

  I laid a pair of jeans in the suitcase. “Why do you think the police took my sheets?”

  “You didn’t strip the bed?”

  “Are you kidding? They had a yellow tape across the door until just a few minutes ago. They’d taken over a room in my own house.” I put my hands on my hips. “It’s like they think it was something other than suicide.”

  “Don’t they do autopsies to show how she died?”

  “The medical examiner will give an opinion. But I doubt if Dr. Eichmann has even completed his exam yet.”

  “Call him. See what all the fuss is about.”

  “I know him, Rene. He won’t like me snooping in his business.”

  “Who would kill Yolanda?”

  I started thinking of a short list. I was on top. I looked at Rene, hoping she couldn’t read my guilty conscience.

  “OK,” she said, plopping down on the bed. “Who are the suspects? The only ones in the house that night were you, me, the Renners, and Henry.” She paused. “The Renners did seem like they were in a hurry to leave.”

  “There’s no motive.”

  “Maybe the Renners didn’t want her to marry their son.”

  I shook my head. “That’s no reason to kill her.”

  “Maybe you did it,” Rene said. “You were jealous of the way Henry admired her hair.”

  “You noticed that too?”

  My sister let her mouth fall open and let her tongue flap out like a drooling dog.

  “Stop it. He didn’t look that bad.”

  “Stop worrying. Henry’s quite normal in that respect, from what I can see. He has an eye for fine women,” she said, looking at me. “My sister being the prettiest of all.”

  I frowned.

  “I’m being serious.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I said, lifting my head and glancing at my own reflection in the mirror over the dresser.

  I didn’t feel pretty. I didn’t even want to think about it, so I changed the subject. “I’m not sure I can sleep in my bed again.”

  “It’s a comfortable bed. You’re melodramatic.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I am not. It’s just eerie. I feel like giving it to the Salvation Army or something.”

  “Give it to me,” Rene said. “It’s not going to haunt me.”

  “Are you moving out?”

  She nodded. “I need to find a place soon. I can’t stay with you and Henry forever.”

  I softened. “You are my sister. Stay as long as you need.”

  She laughed. “Maybe I’ll stay as long as you need.”

  Rene helped me lug Yolanda’s suitcases upstairs. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Wednesday. Fish.” I stared at my sister. “Is that why you’re here? Free food?”

  She laughed. “At least you seem to have gotten something positive from Mom. She was an awesome cook.”

  I didn’t want to think positive thoughts about our mother, but her comment launched me into memories of Sunday dinners with pot roast and mashed potatoes, squash casseroles laden with cheese, and fresh baked rolls. “I remember.”

  Wednesday night meant grilled fish on the obsessive-compulsive Stratford calendar, but as per the normal recent routine, Henry didn’t show. Trauma surgery had become the mistress I couldn’t compete with.

  It was nine-thirty p.m. as Rene and I finished up loading the dishwasher. I looked at her as she handed me the last plate.

  “What? Why are you smiling?”

  I shouldn’t have told her yet. I knew how high Rene’s expectations could climb, but I just couldn’t resist. I’d allowed my own emotions to begin an ascent of their own. “I asked Henry about adopting your baby.”

  She stared at me, mouth agape. “Well? What did he say?”

  I tried to wear an exterior of calm. “Oh, you know Henry. I wouldn’t let him give me a reply.” I broke into a grin. “But he didn’t say ‘no.’ He told me I’d be a good mother.”

  The phone interrupted our excitement. I picked it up in the kitchen. “Hello.”

  “Wendi, I’m glad I caught you.” The voice was strained and easily recognizable to me as Detective Chris Black.

  “Chris?”

  “We’ve got a situation here. I’m afraid it’s not pleasant news.”

  My gut tightened. Most of the time when Chris called, I ended up at some complicated, gruesome, multivehicle crash site collecting evidence until the break of dawn. I glanced at Rene and stepped away. “What’s up? A crash?”

  “Of sorts. It’s Henry.”

  “Henry was in a crash?”

  “Easy, babe. He’s OK.”

  I willed my heart to slow down. I didn’t tolerate sexist language from too many men, but Chris and I went way back. I knew him to be harmless, so I let him “honey” me, “sugar” me, and “babe” me all he wanted. “What happened?”

  “He struck a pedestrian.”

  I gasped. I knew Henry’s makeup well enough to know how much this would torture him.

  “He called a paramedic crew, then followed them to the University ER and helped code her himself.” He seemed to hesitate. “Wendi, the girl died.”

  “How horrible.” I knew I’d better get to my husband fast. “Is Henry there?”

  “He just left. He asked me to call you. He should be home in a few minutes.”

  “Will there be a police investigation?”

  “An officer came to the scene and filed a report.”

  “Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Are you looking for business?”

  “Funny, Chris. I’m on vacation, by the way. I’m just interested. It’s my job.”

  “For the record, everything corroborated with his story, including the brake skid marks in front of the body location and blood on the pavement.”

  I winced. As much misery as I’ve witnessed, you’d think I wouldn’t mind blood, but I only endure it. “How is Henry?”

  “You know Henry. The ever-polished surgeon.”

  “On the outside.” I groaned. “He’s going to take this hard. With his obsessive personality, he’s going to brood over every little awful detail.”

  I listened as Chris’s breath whistled into the phone. “There’s more, Wendi.”

  I waited, wondering what could be worse. In the few seconds I had to dissect the tension in his voice, I half expected him to say something crazy. Henry was drunk and was being charged with manslaughter or worse.

  “The pedestrian was a surgical resident in his program. He killed a surgeon in training.”

  “Oh no,” I said, my hand trembling at the edge of my mouth. “W-wh-who?”

 
“Cindy Swanson.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Thankfully, by the time Henry came home, Rene had the sense to retreat to her guest room in the basement and let me help my husband through his grief.

  He arrived with his suit wrinkled, sans tie, and with bloodstains on his white shirt. He walked to a cabinet where he hid the hard liquor from my father and lifted a bottle of Jack Daniel’s to his lips before acknowledging me.

  I slipped around behind him as he slumped into a leather recliner in the den to console himself with Jack and a ready glass. “I’m so sorry, Henry,” I said, kneading the tension from his shoulders.

  He grunted and sipped his drink.

  I kept my voice tender. “Tell me what happened.”

  He shrugged. “Worked until late. Left the hospital about seven and stopped by Cindy Swanson’s apartment to pick up a draft of some data she promised.”

  My guard went up. He was dropping by the blonde’s apartment? Stupid move, trauma chief. I held my tongue and shifted my position on the couch.

  His face was expressionless. He spoke in a mechanical monotone, as if reading a stock report. “She lives in Jefferson Hill. You park underneath in the deck, then walk around to the sidewalk steps leading to the front landings.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Anyway, she gave me the stuff I needed, so I walked back out, got in the Mercedes, and started back up the lane towards the street. She must have forgotten something, because the next thing I knew as I sped up the lane was the sudden image of Cindy falling in front of the car.” He looked up at me, eyes bloodshot and unfocused, as if he was reliving the horror. “She had run down the sidewalk steps with a few additional papers and slipped just as she got to the bottom. I had just enough time to slam the brakes.” He shook his head slowly. “Her face struck the pavement right in front of the wheel.”

  I felt myself shudder. I stayed quiet, not knowing how to respond. After a few minutes Henry drained his glass, and I slipped around behind him to massage his neck. There was nothing to say. This was a horrible event, and there was only one way to go. Forward. Nothing could change it, erase it, or make it go away. Only time, and I was sure a great deal of it, would ease the memory of this for Henry.