by Lee Hanson
She shouldn’t kid herself about Marc. He didn’t know the first thing about promoting himself or his work. Without her, he’d be nowhere. But Marc felt no loyalty toward her, and now that he was becoming “known”, what was to prevent him from dumping her?
Nothing.
And if Marc were gone…a suicide, say…the value of his work would double, perhaps triple. She owned a number of pieces, herself. And she would probably retain the contract to sell the others. And she would get the gallery, too. And Avram could buy the house.
Susan had come to the conclusion that Avram was right…
It was “better for all concerned”.
•
Susan shoved the crated paintings into her large walk-in pantry to get them out of the way, and closed the door. She began picking up all the loose Styrofoam on the trestle table in her kitchen, where she often worked. She was about to frame the other oil she’d taken from Marc’s studio that was actually going to the Herzog Gallery in New York.
It was a small jewel of a painting; a sailboat against a vibrant sunset, the pure white spinnaker dead center.
Dead.
She really had to stop thinking about it! What was the point? It wasn’t like she could change anything now. But, try as she might, she couldn’t stop remembering. If only Marc had been dead…
•
David invited Susan over for a dinner of braised short ribs, after she teased him about how she had missed his cooking. She acted surprised and pleased at the subsequent invitation and offered to bring the wine. David, always an eager host, said he’d invite Rolly, too, and the four of them would “make a night of it”.
She arrived at their house on Gulf Wind Drive about seven.
“I hope you boys like this Cabernet,” she said, handing it to Marc. “It’s called ‘Chateau Very Expensive’! I poured two bottles into this decanter because the guy at the liquor store said it should ‘breathe’.”
They all laughed.
She was so nervous, but it was really easy. Since she never drank because of her diabetes, nobody expected her to drink the wine. David commented at one point that it had “an interesting finish”, but no one else said anything about the taste.
Susan could tell as the night wore on that the alprazolam was working. All three of them were yawning…so she pretended to yawn, too.
“Well, it’s time for me to go home, boys,” she said, rising and retrieving the empty Waterford decanter. “Thank you so much for a wonderful dinner, David.”
“I should go, too,” said Rolly, yawning again. “I have to be at work early tomorrow.”
Susan hoped Rolly wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel and have an accident. Marc and David walked them to the door, and they all air-kissed and said goodbye.
She returned an hour later and parked her car down the street. The lights were out, but to her surprise, Rolly’s old Toyota was back in the driveway. She almost ran back to her car! But then she realized that there was no chance he’d be with Marc. He’d be on the other end of the house, just as drugged as David.
She ducked down below the level of the windows and circled around to the rear of the house.
She was dismayed to see that the light in the pool was lighting the whole damn patio. And Marc’s vertical blinds on the sliding glass doors weren’t closed all the way, either…
To hell with it, she thought. If I get caught I’ll say I needed to get an extra painting to replace one I sold at the gallery. I’ll say I forgot to ask Marc for it after dinner, and I didn’t want to wake anybody. It was HIS idea to give me a key.
Susan quickly crossed the patio and paused on the outside stairs to the loft. There was no activity that she could see in Marc’s room through the blinds. She climbed the stairs to the little deck and started to unlock the studio door, fumbling with the key. The latex gloves made it difficult to hold on to; she was afraid of dropping it.
Finally, she got the key in and the door opened. She closed it behind her, crossed the room and headed for the stairs that led down into the kitchen. She paused on every other step, listening for any sounds in the house. There were none; it was quiet. The luminous pool outside cast a dim light through the glass doors into the house, and as her eyes adjusted, she found that she could see quite well. She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and went straight down the short hall to Marc’s bedroom. She put her ear to the bedroom door and listened for a minute or two.
Snoring.
Damn. He wasn’t dead.
Susan had hoped that the combination of Marc’s multiple HIV drugs and an overload of alprazolam would be lethal. However, she had always known that there was a chance it might not be enough.
No matter. If it wasn’t enough to kill him, she knew the overdose would certainly knock him out. Unfortunately - and besides being ineffectual - that could create another problem. What if Marc slipped into a coma? She certainly couldn’t have that! So, if need be, she had come prepared to quickly finish the job and leave.
She removed the syringe from the small purse strapped to her waist, turned the levered handle down and pushed open the door. The squeaking hinge sounded like a burglar alarm and she froze, holding her breath, halfway into the room.
No movement. He was still snoring.
She exhaled with relief, taking in the scene. Marc was sprawled on his back, naked and slick with sweat, despite the coolness of the room. Moonlight sliced through the partially open verticals, casting a striped pattern of light across his body. The ceiling fan made a low, hypnotic sound and was spinning so fast its blades were invisible. The weighted bottoms of the vertical cloth slats moved silently in the breeze. Within reach on the nightstand, a plethora of prescription drugs stood ready to aid sleep or relieve pain. Surprisingly, the needle slipped right into the vein on the first try.
If there’s a hell, I’m going there.
Marc’s eyes fluttered open.
“Susan?”
Then they closed.
* * * * *
Chapter 65
“Susan?”
Julie knocked again on the windowed kitchen door. She could see Susan standing by an oak table which held a small painting on an easel. She seemed to be staring into space.
“Susan?” she said, a little louder.
Susan turned and saw her. She was surprised, as Julie had assumed she would be, but she smiled and opened the door.
“Well, hello!” she said. “Come on in.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting your work, Susan,” Julie said, apologetically. “I just felt like getting out of the house after all that rain, so I went out for a drive. Marc told me so much about this old house and the way you restored it. By the way, it’s beautiful! Anyway, I was driving by to see it, and I thought I might as well drop in and say hello. But, if you’re busy… that’s okay…I can let you get back to your work.”
“No, no. That’s fine…I’m glad you stopped by. I was just getting ready to frame one of the paintings I picked up the other night. I’m trying to decide on a frame. What do you think? Gold? Black? Wood? I’m thinking gold.”
“Oh, I love this painting,” said Julie, looking at the canvas on the table. “Definitely gold.”
Susan held the little painting up. “There’s so much gold in the sunset here…it has to be a little darker than the deepest gold tone. Antiqued, I think.”
“Yes. I think that would be perfect.”
“So,” said Susan, returning the painting to the easel, “would you like some coffee, or tea?”
“I’d love some tea. I’ve had so much coffee lately.”
Susan filled the teakettle with water and turned the gas on under it. “Do you mind if I finish framing that while we visit, Julie? It’s the last one I have to do, and I’d like to get it out of the kitchen.”
“Please…go right ahead.”
“Okay. This is a small size canvas,” said Susan. “I’ve got a frame in the den that I think will work, if I have all the pieces. I’ll be right b
ack. The tea and the cups are in the cabinet next to the sink, if you want to get them.”
“Sure.”
Julie went to the cabinet and took out two cups and a box of Earl Grey tea.
Only one teabag...
She opened two cabinet doors, looking for another box of tea.
Dishes, glasses...
She opened a door...a pantry.
There it is, past the coffee...
There was a tall narrow crate in the middle. She slid it to the side.
AVRAM SOLOMON
Julie sucked in her breath. The top of the box wasn’t sealed up. It was filled with loose Styrofoam. She quickly brushed some aside exposing the top of a canvas. There were three letters on top: SFN
Suddenly she realized she was reading the letters on the canvas frame backwards. It was NFS…Not For Sale. And there were two. Marc’s Castle Cay paintings that he said he’d never sell.
•
Julie’s eyes drifted upward to a large Waterford decanter that sat on the shelf behind the crate. With a sickening feeling, she recalled what David had said about the dinner party the night of Marc’s death:
“I usually get up during the night, but we finished off a whole decanter of wine and I slept right through…”
* * * * *
Chapter 66
“Want some dinner, Joe?”
“Sure, I’m starved.”
David began to pull out pots and pans, happy to escape any conversation related to his earlier, tearful retreat.
“Hey, David, did you get the photos of Castle Cay in your email from my friend, Will Sawyer? Julie said to send them here.”
“You know…I haven’t checked my email for days. It’s probably miles long. Let’s go see.”
Joe followed him into his bedroom, and David sat at his desk.
The computer finally booted up.
“Was I right, or was I right?”
“You were right,” said Joe, laughing.
David scrolled through until he came to sawyerphotos.com. He opened it up, and there were all the photographs.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” said David. “I didn’t realize how beautiful it is. All I’ve ever seen are those two dismal paintings upstairs.”
“See the wall and the airstrip here, David, those little block buildings? That’s what we were talking about.”
“Is this the Atlantic side? Where’s the area that’s in Marc’s painting?”
“That’s it, I think,” said Joe.
“It can’t be. There’s a little point of land sticking out with water shooting up. It’s right in the middle of the painting, with moonlight shining on it. Sort of the focal point, you know?” said David. “Marc told me it was where Julie’s husband died.
“I’ll be right back; I’m going up and get that one.”
Joe was about to say that drug traffickers doing that much building wouldn’t have much of a problem straightening out the island’s edge to accommodate a sea wall…but David had already sprinted upstairs to the studio.
Joe was opening a message from jsoldano when David returned.
“They’re not there! I can’t believe she took them!”
“Who? Susan?”
“Yes! Marc specifically told her not to show them, that they weren’t for sale!”
“Wait a minute, please, David…”
The email Joe was reading was sent on the 21st of September:
Julie,
I found a brochure from Marc’s show and it had a picture of his agent. She’s the woman we saw with Avram. I remembered her because I was trying to look at the Castle Cay paintings and they were blocking my view.
We feel like dopes! I don’t know what made us think she was his date!
LOL,
Joan
Joe knew; it was their body language.
* * * * *
Chapter 67
“You have caused me such a problem, Julie,” said Susan, standing at the pantry door with a gun in her hand. “Come out of there! Sit at the table, while I figure out what the hell I’m going to do with you!”
“Susan. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just looking for tea bags.”
“It doesn’t matter now, Julie.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” said Julie, desperately, “just because you’re sending paintings to Avram doesn’t mean…”
“Oh, SHUT UP!”
Susan was pacing back and forth.
“What about Rolly?” asked Julie.
“What about him? The dumbass is probably out there, drowned, eaten by sharks! Who gives a shit?”
Susan, frowning, stroked her chin with her left hand.
She’s worried; I’m a monkey wrench.
Susan raised her eyebrows and lifted her chin slightly.
Uh-oh. She feels back in control.
“Get up. We’re going out for some fresh air.”
Julie got up and Susan got behind her, poking her in the back with the gun.
“MOVE IT! Through there!”
She pushed Julie through the darkened house; through a dining room and a living room walled with big windows looking out on the sea…to a glass paned door.
“Open it!”
Julie opened it, stumbling forward on the threshold. She fell on her hands.
“Get up!” said Susan, whacking her in the back with the gun.
The pain tore through her, as she staggered to her feet.
They were on a wide wooden deck. In front of Julie were a few stairs going down and a long…very long…dock.
“Go on, hurry up!” said Susan, poking her toward the stairs.
“What are you doing?” said Julie, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.
“Shut up and walk! FASTER! I haven’t got all night! I still have to get rid of your stupid car, you bitch!”
Susan angrily pushed her again.
It was dark and the tide was high, rough from the storm. The angry black water stretched ominously before her.
Julie ran like hell and jumped in.
* * * * *
Chapter 68
“Yes! RIGHT NOW! Her life is in danger!” Joe yelled into the phone.
As soon as he realized it was Susan Dwyer who was connected to Avram, he had immediately called the Key West police. He told them to call Chief Sanders at home and then hung up.
Joe was scared to death that it was already too late.
It had all come together for him, as he sat at David’s computer. It was about drugs. Avram Solomon was still involved in the trade, even though they weren’t currently using Castle Cay. The construction there was damning. As long as the island was under his aegis, it implicated him. He wanted to get rid of it, especially to a company that would erase all traces of drug trafficking.
Joe and Julie had given Avram too much credit for rational thinking.
Marc had dated the paintings of the island and created a time frame for the illegal activity. Avram wanted them, just like he wanted Marc out of the way. It was about obsession and pathological control.
Joe didn’t know how Susan Dwyer had gotten involved in all of this. But one thing was certain:
Susan wasn’t rational, either.
* * * * *
Chapter 69
The crack of the gun was the last thing Julie heard as she sank in the sea. It was opaque, full of sediment, and maybe twenty feet deep. She had jumped straight down, and now she stayed on the bottom under the dock, holding her breath in water that was moving violently and as numbing as a full-body ice pack.
Julie clung to the thick, slimy piling, thanking God for the barnacles that gave her something to grip. All the same, she tried not to cut herself, scared stiff to bleed in that roiled, muddy water. It was terrifying not to be able to see beyond arm’s length! But she quickly realized the murkiness was a good thing because it meant that Susan couldn’t see her, and Susan was far more dangerous than anything in the water.
Julie’s lungs were exploding; she had to have s
ome air! Slowly, she let herself rise to the surface.
“...ARE YOU, BITCH? YOU CAN’T STAY DOWN...”
Quickly, Julie sucked in the deepest breath she could manage and pulled herself down again beneath the dark, frigid water. Susan’s garbled voice instantly faded away.
Clinging again to the thick piling, Julie hung on for dear life against the powerful, swirling current that threatened to tear her away. She waited and waited until she couldn’t hold her breath a moment longer and was forced to come up for air.
Hand over hand, she rose to the surface, garbled sound becoming more distinct. There was tramping and yelling, men’s voices. She broke the surface of the water out of sight under the dock, gratefully gulping a lungful of the salty air.
“...DOWN! PUT THE GUN DOWN! DO IT NOW! NO! DON’T...!”
Gunfire cracked again and there was a thump on the dock right over Julie’s head.
“OH, SHIT!”
“IS SHE DEAD?”
She? It was Susan. Susan was shot! Julie moved to the outside of the piling, straining to see.
“HERE! I’M HERE! HELP ME!”
Suddenly, Joe appeared above her.
“MERLIN! HANG ON! WE’LL GET YOU OUT!”
It was Joe…
* * * * *
Chapter 70
Julie wasn’t the only one the sea gave back that day. The other was Rolly Archer. Over two hundred miles south of Louisiana in the Gulf of Mexico, fate intervened on his behalf.
The ultra-deep drilling rig had automatic “thruster” engines on the four corners of its floating platform. The thrusters kept the drill on station, in spite of the ocean currents. They were constantly in play, reacting to the GPS system that controlled them, moving the giant rig as necessary.