The Complete Matt Jacob Series

by Klein, Zachary;

  With her eyebrows raised she said, “You stopped at Jonathan’s, didn’t you?”

  It was a statement, not a question. Therin’s face popped into my head and I rubbed the back of my neck.

  She sounded loving. “Were you kind?”

  Something inside me lurched and I felt pity pull against my collar. “Melanie, stop asking questions,” I said helplessly.

  “First, tell me if you were kind.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I tried.”

  “What they say is true. ‘What you don’t know won’t hurt you.’” She pushed nonexistent hairs back from her forehead. “I kept many secrets from Jonathan. That’s why it’s important he learns of things in a gentle way.”

  There was no lie, no delusion in her concern for Barrie. I heard myself croak, “What secrets, Mel?”

  “Don’t play now, Matt. I told you about my longing for Peter. And I know you’ve discovered others.”

  She rushed on without waiting. “There were secrets between me and Darryl. Secrets that might have devastated Jonathan. It was important that no one knew.”

  “You were involved with drugs?”

  “That was your sixty-four-dollar question, wasn’t it? Where did I get the coke?” She smiled sarcastically. “If drugs were all there was I might not have lied.” She sipped from her drink. “Darryl and I were lovers.”

  I felt my skin tingle as I finally understood.

  Her eyes flashed and her head snapped up. “Don’t stare at me that way! I know what that look means.” Her eyes glittered and shone like wet crystal, her words flung like a handful of gravel. “I know what you’re thinking, ‘a whore like her mother.’” She shook her fist at the dead mother in tight, rapid thrusts. “I was never like her! Never!”

  Mel’s lips drew tight across her teeth and she sneered. “You and I were lovers too. Were we strangers? Did you leave money on my dresser? I got entangled. I sold nothing! In my life, sex was never impersonal!”

  Her chest heaved; the liquid shook in her glass. Rocked by her venom, I caught my breath, then asked, “Why the past tense, Melanie? We’re still entangled.”

  The question helped her regain her fragile control. She sighed and looked up at the clock. “Past, present, it doesn’t matter.” She held out her drink. “Look at us. We started in the past. Are we finishing the past tonight? Or the present?”

  She stared back again at the glass in her hand. “If I were alone I might have made a margarita. You know, part of making it summer…”

  The undercurrent of finality hammered against my taut nerves. “Why didn’t you make it anyway?”

  “I’d rather drink what you’re having,” she said, looking more thoughtful than angry. “It’s funny—I would drink what you’re drinking, and I don’t even like the taste.”

  All the textbooks in all the libraries couldn’t have summed it up better, I thought.

  “I’d never allow the slightest word about Darryl,” she offered, changing subjects abruptly. “It would have killed Jonathan to know.” She smiled contemptuously and some of her earlier anger reappeared. “If he knew what all of us really were…”

  “He’d have worked at loving you more,” I interrupted.

  “Oh no.” A hard, knowing look shifted the contours of her face. Her fire hadn’t abated, only changed form. Now her voice seethed with bitterness. “It doesn’t work like that. Not in the real world, Matt. Jonathan is good, but Jonathan is still human. The other two knew what they were doing, and they did it anyway.”

  “What was it they did, Melanie?”

  “They left me.” She leaned back further in her seat and raised her glass in my direction. “This is why I’m glad you’re here. You can’t leave me, and I can make you understand.”

  Her words put a chill in the hot air. “You loved them?”

  A crooked smile appeared on her face. “Loved them? Perhaps I loved Jonathan, but I don’t know much about love. Darryl was a toy.” She rubbed her eyes, smearing the makeup. “Even though I want to talk to you, I find it hard to tell my secrets. I never have, you know.”

  A pause. “What I had with my brother was beyond love. We were actually a part of each other.” She struck at the air with her free hand. “Darryl only wanted me. He didn’t need anyone. Peter almost understood.”

  “Understood what?”

  “Almost. I said ‘almost.’ If he had really understood, everything would have been different.” Her face twisted into a mixture of rage and torment. “He refused. He refused to understand.”

  She turned her head sharply, staring at the clock again. I tried to bring her back. “Both of them were going to live with Jonathan. You don’t blame him?”

  She seemed startled by the suggestion. “Of course not. Jonathan never lies. He always tried to give me what I needed. That’s who he is.”

  Her tone hardened as she shifted focus. “They didn’t care about him. Both of them plotted to get what they could.” Her voice grew harsh. “They were liars.” She waved her hand like a brush, painting out the room and the “liars.”

  “Melanie, you weren’t protecting Jonathan twenty years ago?”

  She shook her head as a note of shrillness entered her voice. “Different lies. Darryl lied to Jonathan. Peter lied to me. Twenty years ago I was the little one. That’s what Peter always said: ‘You’re the little one.’ He told me he lived to protect the little one.”

  She snorted. “You’re always the little one until someone tells you you’re not. Then what are you?” She raised her hand questioningly. “He said it would be a good deal. He’d get me in and we would both live swell.”

  She shook her head. “Can you believe he could use a word like ‘swell’ after I’d heard him talk about passing his body out to strangers like it was candy? After watching him offer it to Emil? We were supposed to share Peter’s body. It was going to complete us.”

  Her head jerked; she forced herself to drink. “That’s when I discovered I was the only believer. I should have seen it earlier. We used to have terrible fights about our mother, and Peter always took her side. I should have realized he was defending the two of them.” She refilled her glass from the bottle in her hand, and sat back in her chair.

  “It’s not like I expected,” she said, breathing heavily. “What’s not?”

  “This talk. I’d imagined a feeling of peace. I always thought that’s why Catholics have last rites.”

  I smiled despite my tension. “You mean ‘confession.’”

  She swung her glass absently. “Whatever. It’s not important now. Don’t misunderstand, he had affection for Jonathan.”

  I was momentarily confused by her shift. “Who?” I asked.

  “Peter, Peter.” She sounded exasperated. “Darryl didn’t care for Jonathan at all. Darryl actually liked Prezoil.” She shook her head disgustedly. “Peter liked J.B.” She smiled but it was to someone on the horizon. “That’s what I called him, you know.”

  One person’s affectionate nickname had been another’s nasty joke.

  She reached out her arm to offer the bottle. “Peter cared for Jonathan, but he was a piece of me. Darryl cared for no one but himself. Love, or need, isn’t as important to men as plain old greed.”

  I picked up the bottle and poured while Melanie scoured my face with her eyes. It was painful to see the world through her fractured prisms.

  “You agree with me, don’t you?” she demanded.

  I didn’t want to upset her. But this was a night for truth. “I recognize what you see. There’s a difference.”

  A look of hate swept across her face. She nestled the drink to her chest. “No. You just hope you’re different.” She tipped her head toward her drink. “Everyone hopes they’re different. But you just talk less.”

  “Why did you hand me Prezoil?”

  “She gave a bitter little laugh. “It was time to put an end to everything once and for all.” She leaned forward to stare at the clock and then at me. “I knew you wouldn’t
quit until you had all the answers. I knew it the same way I knew something was going to happen the minute I left Jonathan’s.”

  “When you moved out?”

  She looked impatient. “Yes. Please don’t be stupid now.” “Why do you keep looking at the clock?”

  She ignored my question. “I waited and watched and there was Darryl. I could see his game right from the beginning. He was going to turn Jonathan into a lap dog. I didn’t know what I would have to do. Or whether I would have a choice. I had to plan.”

  It was now a helpless and tortured expression. “You see, Matt, there’s that word again—choice. That disgusting, ugly night I overheard Peter and Emil’s conversation and watched Peter behave like my mother, I had no choice.”

  The anger had returned, delivered in full agony. “That whole night was a continuous pornographic movie, one I’d seen since I was a baby. What happened afterward had to happen. I’d felt like that before, but never as totally as I felt it that night.” Unconsciously she rubbed more of her makeup around on her face. “It’s a, a possession. You watch yourself but feel nothing. You watch yourself act, and it’s like watching a movie.”

  Her drink shook in her hand and she gripped the arm of the plastic chair with the other. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “When Darryl insisted upon moving in with Jonathan, I knew I might hurt him but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know even after he threatened to tell Jonathan about us. He was afraid I was going to cause trouble.”

  She smiled grimly. “I don’t cause trouble. It isn’t up to me.”

  I started to speak but she ignored my interruption. The glaze in her eyes had gone. They sparkled with a mixture of fear and venom. “I had to make plans in case anything happened. I was afraid of prison. That’s why I sent Emil the letter.”

  “Why Emil?”

  “He was the start of everything,” she snarled. “He worked at turning Peter against me, taking Peter’s innocence. First my mother, then Emil. The two of them. My mother tried to ruin us, but we almost got away. Emil brought Peter right back. Peter never would have offered his body if Emil hadn’t seduced him first.”

  “But Emil refused Peter.”

  “That was just his manipulation. He made Peter want him. Just like my mother made men want her. That’s why I sent that letter. I knew he’d go shooting off his big mouth. If something happened to Darryl I wanted the police to blame Emil. He deserved to have his innocence taken away.”

  She calmed herself with a few deep breaths and continued, “I didn’t expect him to find you. Your appearance was the final sign.”

  Waves of uneasy responsibility washed through me. “What kind of sign?”

  The look in her eyes pleaded with me to understand. “At first it was a sign that something was going to happen. A sign that history rolls like a wheel, always repeating. When you began asking questions I was frightened and tried to stop you. Later, when I realized you wouldn’t quit until you had all your answers, I knew it meant something else. A signal to stop resisting, though that came later.”

  She looked at me wildly. “I know how to stop resisting. After Peter and Emil left the party, Lonny raped me. I stopped resisting then, too.”

  Prezoil’s face jumped in front of me and I wanted to bludgeon it with a shovel. This was why he’d lied.

  Melanie jerked her thoughts back to me. “At the end when I stopped resisting, I understood the rest of it. What I had to do. That’s why I came to your apartment.” She smiled sweetly at me from underneath the mess on her face. “We were good. No one could supply what Peter refused, but we were close. I needed to feel that one last time.”

  I didn’t want to hear anymore. “You wait for betrayal,” I said tensely, trying to push her away. “Of course I wait for it”—she shook her head emphatically— “what choice is there?”

  She stood, walked to the window, fiddled with the closed venetian blind, and stepped back toward the mantel. “I can’t spend my life waiting for one person after the other to prove the same thing over and over.

  “I’m not like my mother,” her voice rose a decibel higher, “hurting everyone before they had a chance to hurt her. I’m not like that. I wait and the hurt always happens. Spending my life in helpless circles.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I burned parts of me for Peter—and for what? For something I saw every morning when my mother stuck out her hand.”

  Her face contorted. “That’s why I’m telling you this. We were special together, in a way that might help you understand. When I told you the things that I knew you couldn’t leave alone, I was telling myself I couldn’t keep waiting. I don’t want to usher at the same movie my whole life. I’m too tired for that. Too tired.”

  Her words, coupled with the noise from the front door, gave me room to breathe. I didn’t know what would come next, but at least Simon would take charge. I felt my body sag as my own tired took hold. This was finally over.

  I kept my eyes on Melanie’s face, concerned about her reaction to Jonathan. But I felt my stomach drop when an unexpected voice screeched from the doorway, “Take your jacket off!”

  I spun my head and saw Therin, sweat and tears pouring from his face. His long, stringy black hair lay matted and wet on his neck. He stood pointing a .22, holding it stiff-armed in his two hands. Foam had collected at the corners of his mouth: he was overdosing.

  “I thought you didn’t approve of drugs, Therin.” My own sweat rose on my neck and back. Melanie stood watching without surprise.

  “I didn’t tell you to talk, I said take off your fucking jacket.” The barrel twitched.

  I raised my hands, “Okay, Therin.” I got up slowly and carefully removed my coat.

  “Now slide all that shit to me.” His voice was stretched with tension. The gun kept jumping around.

  I looked at Melanie, but she was staring at the clock again, her hands clenching and letting go. Tears ran down unabated through rivulets of distorted makeup. I unbuckled the strap and pulled off the holster. I knelt, checked the safety, and slid the bundle toward Therin’s feet. I sat down again and draped my arm over the side of the couch.

  Where the fuck were Jonathan and Simon? I glanced at the clock. They should have been here by now. Suddenly I realized that I didn’t know whether Simon was in town.

  The thought drove my eyes back to the clock. This time Melanie noticed. “Why are you looking at the clock?” She spoke quietly through her silent tears. “Everything comes to an end. This will all be over soon. People will wonder for a minute—that’s all.”

  “Killing me isn’t going to end anything.”

  She looked at me and frowned. “Killing you?”

  I looked to the door and pleaded with Therin, “Why don’t you think for a minute? I don’t know how much you understand, but Melanie needs help, she doesn’t need you pointing a gun.”

  Mel stood with her arms at her sides in front of the mantle. “Stay there, Therin. You know what you have to do.” I glanced in his direction and saw his grief-stricken face flush, new tears spring into his eyes, but he nodded.

  Melanie turned toward me, and at the same time I heard the muffled sound of a car door closing. She heard it too. “Do you have someone coming to get me?” she erupted hysterically.

  I tried to sound calm. “Just Jonathan. I asked him to bring a friend of mine who can help us. No police.” I heard footsteps on the stairs, saw Therin look desperately at Mel.

  Her arms began to shake and she cried, “Damn it!” She stamped her foot. “Now Therin! Now! Before he gets inside. Don’t break your promise! Now! Right now if you really love me! Right now!”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the gun tremble and I jackknifed over the arm of the couch. I heard two shots explode the screams in the room, but felt no burning metal shatter my back.

  I stuck my head out over the side of the couch. Jonathan and Simon were in the doorway, staring white-faced and horrified at the sight on the floor between us. Therin had put his first bullet in Melanie’s heart,
and then blown his own face out the back of his head.

  I sank down on my knees and sobbed.

  Simon was everywhere all at once. He dragged Jonathan and me onto the porch, went back inside, and reemerged with a large, wet, hot bath towel. He rubbed our faces as if to wake us from a coma. While he wiped at mine he put his lips by my ear and asked if I’d done any shooting. I tried to talk but all I could do was tremble and shake my head. Jonathan sat next to me staring fixedly at the street. Although it was damn near freezing, both of us were oblivious to the cold. Simon told us to stay put as he went back inside.

  I jammed the towel into my mouth and bit down hard to keep my stomach from wrenching. Barrie looked at me with dull, lifeless eyes. I wanted to talk, to ease his misery, but my misery had no words. Instead, I grabbed his hand.

  Simon reappeared on the porch. “I’m glad you called,” he said somberly. “Can you take the towel out of your mouth?”

  I nodded dumbly and let the thing fall.

  Simon leaned over and pulled it away. “Can you give me a handle for the police?” he asked tersely.

  “I’ll try.”

  I thought I’d spoken but Simon shook my shoulder. “I know you’re in shock, but if you can talk it will help,” he repeated.

  “It was a murder, then suicide,” I said, then cracked. Blood pumping from Therin and the thought of Melanie sprawled on the floor drove my stomach into a paroxysm, and I grabbed for the towel. Jonathan just sat there holding my hand. I couldn’t tell whether he heard anything or not.

  I struggled to push the splattered floor from my mind. “The woman was responsible for two deaths. One recent, one twenty years ago. Her murder was really a suicide, induced, something she concocted with the kid.”

  “With the kid?”

  “Yeah. He wasn’t wrapped tight and she brought him over the edge. I don’t know what else went on between them, but tonight was her idea.”

  Simon looked at me carefully. “Was your gun used?”

  I shook my head. “No. It should be somewhere on the floor, still in the holster.”