Something Most Deadly

by Ann Self

  They did not convey their skepticism to Elliot, however, cutting the meeting short, preferring to meet with the other investors and the lawyers before deciding their next move in the chess game. They scurried out to the Mercedes as Brian hurriedly punched a number in his cell phone. He began talking while his father buckled himself up again and turned the air-conditioning up to MAX. Brian was deep in conversation as he pulled out of the north wing parking area. His attention was caught by the riding instructor standing by a paddock across the drive. She was leaning in to pat a brown horse.

  He was shocked to see her arm in a sling. Brian braked and looked back at her, muffling the phone against his shirt. “Check that out—the riding coach! Looks like she injured her arm, as well as being fired.”

  Evan strained in his seatbelt to look back. “Well I’ll be damned! Elliot didn’t mention that little fact when he was ripping her to pieces. You’re right Brian. There is something incredibly, ghastly wrong with this place. I think we’ve jumped into bed with the Devil on this deal...”

  Jane tossed hay to General one-handed, then tried to brush off the seeds and stems that clung to her sweaty arm with fingers that stuck out from the sling. She wondered if the heat wave would ever give in. The horse was doing much better after his brush with disaster, although that would be of no benefit to her, since the Bergstroms were moving lock, stock and barrel to the Spindrift barn on the Cape. She strained to reach over the fence with her good arm and pat his shoulder, making her sore arm pinch with pain. She ignored it, and kept on patting her old ride, thinking how much she would miss him. She wasn’t even going to bother trying for a job at Spindrift; the Bergstrom family would likely be spreading the alarm about mishaps following her around like a black cloud. In fact, if they spied her giving General hay, they would probably run out and snatch it away. She wondered how far the gossip would reach; wondered if her reputation was tarnished to the point of rendering her unemployable. That worry caused her more pain than her shoulder.

  Hearing the unmistakable rumble of dual Mercedes exhaust pipes, she straightened and glanced back in time to see Brian’s black SUV gliding out from behind shrubbery, heading out of the front parking lot, away from her. The brake lights flashed on, and the driver leaned out and looked back, straight into her face. Jane gasped—she felt naked without her hat and with her hair skinned back and braided. She walked away quickly, grabbing the hat and firming it on her head as she crossed the road to the barn. Flicking a nervous glance over her shoulder, she saw the brake lights go out and the SUV roar away.

  The sound of Sam’s pickup truck racing towards her claimed her attention. Chrome wheels winked sunlight as the truck’s hefty Firestone AT tires wolfed up pavement. “Jane!” Sam shouted from his truck. He screeched to a halt next to her, leaned across the seat and shoved the passenger door open. “Jane! Get in quick!”

  She didn’t argue, and jumped in, slamming the door closed with her good right arm. Sam accelerated before the door was even shut, while simultaneously adjusting knobs on a strange looking device he’d installed in the dashboard.

  “What’s going on Sam? What is that thing?”

  “Scanner. Picks up cell phones.”

  “I see we’ve been spending our free time at Radio Shack?”

  Sam ignored the ribbing. “Put on your seatbelt—fast!” He snapped his own belt in a one-handed yank, and then continued adjusting the volume and squelch on a Bearcat scanning radio. Jane struggled with snapping her belt under the cumbersome sling. Air that flowed in the open windows cooled her over-heated body slightly, but she was avidly waiting for the truck’s AC to get up to speed and chill her to the level of ice cubes.

  She took off her cap and let the air flow over her head. “Where’re we racing off to?” she asked, tucking the cap under her leg. Sam was quiet, all his attention focused on the scanner. Jane tried a new tack. “That was a short meeting,” she complained. “They went right by me in the Mercedes.”

  Sam was still distracted, so she stretched her fingers out towards the vent, testing for cool air. The AC was struggling to unload the accumulated air in the hot cab. A familiar voice crackled over the speaker on the scanner, startling her. Jane looked aghast. “Brian?”

  “None other. Shhhh listen...I’m picking up just his end of the conversation.” The truck bounded over the roller-coaster pasture road as they listened to Brian:

  “YEAH, I THINK WE GOT BIG TROUBLE WITH WHITBECK...”

  Jane and Sam looked at each other as the truck held on to the mile distance between them and the Mercedes. “Jeez,” Sam complained, “he’s driving like he’s at the Indy 500. I’m trying to keep a good connection. I want to hear this call—he’s headed for Boston for an emergency meeting with the partners.”

  They slowed to allow Brian time to open the pasture gate, then raced through the gate themselves and then the rock-tunnel of the gatelodge and onto the road, now a half-mile behind Brian. Jane grabbed a handhold on the doorframe of the truck to steady herself as the vehicle swerved around corners, its stiff suspension dancing over bumps. “Oof! Take...it...easy, Sam...” Jane complained, bouncing against her door and nearly into the roof.

  “Sorry...”

  “I KNOW...” the radio crackled again with Brian’s voice.

  “HAVE YOU GOT HOLD OF BOB AYER YET?”

  “KEEP TRYING.”

  “Bob Ayer?” Jane questioned, as she electronically closed her window and adjusted a vent to focus the air-conditioning directly onto her sweaty face.

  “President of Ayer Corporation. Another mall partner,” Sam answered, his own window purring shut.

  “Uh oh.”

  “YEAH, THAT’S WHAT OUR INVESTIGATORS ARE SAYING… WHITBECK’S SHAPING UP AS A HOUSE OF CARDS. ROBBING PETER TO PAY PAUL. HE’S SPENDING ALL HIS EFFORTS PUTTING OUT FIRES. COULD BE HEMORRHAGING MONEY ALL OVER THE PLACE.”

  “YUH WE BETTER START LOOKING FOR SIGNS OF A COVER UP. THE WHITBECK EMPIRE COULD BE ON THE VERGE OF COLLAPSE, WITH US CAUGHT RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE.”

  Sam and Jane kept glancing at each other in disbelief. “Who’s he talking to?” Jane asked.

  “Don’t know,” Sam said as he careened around the winding country road that kept them out of sight of the Mercedes. “Can’t pick up the other end of the conversation. Probably a business partner.”

  “THAT’S WHAT HE SAYS...THE PHARMACIES ARE READY FOR CHAPTER ELEVEN. WALMART MUST BE EATING THEIR LUNCH...AND HIS OFFICE BUILDING IN BOSTON IS IN BIG TROUBLE. TENANTS DESERTING LIKE RATS OFF A SHIP.”

  There was silence while Brian listened to the other end of the conversation, and Sam still followed at a prudent distance as they headed for route 24 north.

  “Don’t get too close Sam, the guy doesn’t miss much.”

  “I’m driving a Ford pick-up—there’s millions of these things on the road. I’m not gonna stand out like certain Buick that could be spotted from the space station.”

  “Still...” Jane complained, straining forward to let a little AC get between her sticky back and the seat.

  “Don’t worry. Since I know he’s going to Boston, I don’t have to get that close.”

  The Mercedes was back in sight again, now two cars ahead. Sam followed the SUV around a winding on-ramp, and then blended quietly into light expressway traffic, allowing a quarter-mile gap to stretch out.

  “IS THAT SO? I KNOW HE’S USING A GULFSTREAM JET OVER THERE...”

  “YOU’RE KIDDING? IMPOUNDED AND THE PILOT’S SUING FOR BACK SALARY! JESUS, THIS GUY REALLY IS BAD NEWS...ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE BANKS START CALLING IN HIS NOTES. LET THIS BE A LESSON TO US IN THE FUTURE.”

  There was a long silence, and Sam fiddled with the knobs again, and then raked back his blond hair as the damp strands dried out in the cooling truck.

  “We’re going to be jumping transmitting towers soon...probably lose him.”

  “...RIGHT, GET THE LAWYERS IN THERE FOR THE MEETING. I THINK WE’RE OKAY SO FAR WITH THE MALL, BUT WE’VE GOT TO KEEP A SHARP E
YE ON THIS GUY—MAKE SURE THERE’S NO EMBEZZLING OR SKIMPING ON CONSTRUCTION.”

  “NO, HE DOESN’T HAVE ANY IDEA YET. STILL THINKS WE’RE ALL PLAYING HIS GAME. HE’S LATCHED ONTO US FOR LIFE PRESERVERS... HOLD ON BILL, I HAVE ANOTHER CALL.”

  “HELLO KEVIN...WHAT’S UP? GREAT, HOLD ON.”

  “BILL, IT’S ONE OF MY INVESTIGATORS. I’LL MEET YOU IN BOSTON.”

  “OKAY KEVIN, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT ON THE GIRL?”

  “NO KIDDING! BORN AND RAISED IN BROCKTON? ONLY CHILD OF AVERY AND LISA HUSTED. DIED SIXTEEN YEARS AGO? SO SHE WAS AN ORPHAN...”

  Sam glanced at Jane as she plopped her head back against the headrest.

  “Oh no, no...” she gasped.

  “NOT NEW HAMPSHIRE, HUH? I DIDN’T THINK SO. WHY WAS SHE FEEDING ME SUCH A LINE? WHAT’S HER CONNECTION TO WHITBECK?”

  “ONLY TWO YEARS...IS THE RIDING INSTRUCTOR THING FOR REAL OR JUST A COVER?”

  “OKAY KEVIN...WANT TO MEET US IN BOSTON? I’M USING MY OLD CELL PHONE, SO WE BETTER QUIT TALKING.”

  There was a click and then a static filled silence. Sam signaled and took the next exit, wound around and over the highway and then re-entered, heading south.

  Jane slumped forward with a sigh. “Elliot is....”

  “Broke,” Sam finished her sentence, his brow lined with worry. “I think we all better start looking for jobs.”

  “What about Cecily’s and Gladys’s money?”

  Sam sniffed, “A slippery guy like Elliot could spend them blind without them knowing it until it was too late. I would guess that their net worth is now zilch.”

  “Wow.” Jane was dumbfounded.

  “I can’t believe Canaday had his investigator check you out too,” Sam said.

  “I can. We must all look pretty suspicious to him. It’s unfolding like a big set-up, and now he knows I’ve been lying to him too.”

  “But not to fleece him of his money.”

  “He has no way of knowing that, no way of knowing I’m not part of a big convoluted scheme. Looking back on everything I must seem quite devious, right along with Elliot.”

  Brian closed his cellphone while flicking another glance into the rearview mirror. He had been watching a red pickup truck in the distance. Its right signal-light snapped on the second he disconnected the call, then veered off quickly to take the next exit ramp. He pocketed the phone and frowned. His sixth-sense was running rampant. Maybe he was just getting paranoid—but he knew any time a vehicle stayed in the same position in his rearview long enough to catch his eye it wasn’t likely to be a coincidence. He watched the truck disappear over a bridge that crossed the highway behind them.

  “What is it? A tail?” Evan studied his side-mirror.

  “Not sure...”

  “Maybe one of Elliot’s henchmen?”

  “Hope not. If it was, he could’ve easily monitored that call. Teach me to keep using my old cell phone.”

  Evan turned back and sighed. “More than a little intrigue in this deal.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Brian drove in silence for a while. Unbidden, the scene of Jane wearing a sling materialized, crowding out all other thoughts. He focused on the lanes of highway ahead of him and saw her face floating in it—the last image of her standing by the paddock fence, hatless and with her hair pulled tightly back from her face. His mind replayed the moment when she briefly turned to look at his car, and recognition thundered into his brain like a bursting dam of water.

  Suddenly he was back in high school. He could smell chalk and linoleum. Crowds of students coming and going along the corridor. Warning bells for the next class. Painted cement blocks passing by his side vision. There she was, walking directly in front of him, totally unaware that he was only a foot behind her. He could see her straight black hair—thick, glossy and clean, but hacked in a ridiculous homemade fashion that made it fall at odd angles. A faded, well–worn sweater hung off her slender shoulders, and her slacks were a non-descript beige and also too baggy for her slight frame. Girls passing in the opposite direction snickered and laughed when they saw him studying Jane with a slightly aghast expression, sure that he would enjoy a joke at her expense. He sensed her shoulders stiffen slightly, and realized she must have endured that kind of humiliation many times; unaware the girls were mostly laughing at his unguarded expression.

  “My God, I know who she is...” he said quietly—stunned as the stream of mental pictures continued to flow into his consciousness. “I know who she is!!”

  “Who who is?”

  “Jane.”

  “Well then tell me,” his father demanded, twisting towards him, “who in hell is she??”

  “I thought I’d heard the name before, I just couldn’t match the face with it. She looked so different back then...”

  “Back where? Back when?”

  “High school. She went to Brockton High. I think she graduated the same year I did.”

  “And it took you this long to put it together? You who miss nothing? You with the photographic memory, with the off-the-charts IQ??” he chided, sitting up and straining against his seat-belt.

  Brian frowned. “I know, I don’t feel so bright right now. But there’s something so...sneaky and enigmatic about her. Almost as if she were partially invisible. I could never get a good lock on her face. ”

  “What? You’re not making sense...”

  “It does sound ridiculous, but it has been ten years, and I think we may have only shared study halls together—and only in the freshman and junior year. Took me awhile to pull those images out of mothballs. She wasn’t quite as tall back then, she seemed so much smaller. So stick thin—no where near the figure she has now—and scary clothes, I mean we’re talking rag bag. And as I said she never looked at me.”

  Brian glanced at his father. “And her hair! The poor kid’s head looked like it was done with gardening shears. Her long hair is definitely an improvement.”

  “She has a very striking face though.”

  “Yeah, but I usually see her from a distance, or wearing a damn baseball cap—and I never get to look in her eyes. That’s what I mean by sneaky.”

  “Husted...Husted...” Evan searched his memory, sinking back in his seat. “Her father was Avery Husted?”

  “Yes,” Brian nodded. “You know him?”

  “Knew of him. Husted Builders. He was a small time builder, killed while piloting a Beechcraft. Wife was killed with him. I always suspected suicide, because it happened a week after I read about this guy in Banker and Tradesmen. Up to his ears in debt, bankrupt, and about to lose his home. I can see why he had nothing to leave the poor girl, probably even cashed in his life insurance somewhere along the way. She would’ve been left penniless, on top of losing her parents and that’s a crying shame—she’s a wonderful, delightful person who deserves much more out of life.”

  “She was an orphan...and an only child.”

  Evan nodded, and then looked sharply at his son. “I don’t buy that hogwash of Whitbeck’s about them firing her for being troublesome and unreliable and deliberately causing accidents. I only spent an hour with the young woman, but it was enough to see she was intelligent, skillful in her work and very dedicated. She knew how to give a child confidence and handled Olivia with great empathy and tact. People like her don’t come along every day. That idiot Whitbeck has some other reason for firing her.”

  Brian looked at his father. “You’re pretty transparent Dad.”

  “I know, I can’t help it. Olivia and I really like her. She’s turned into a stunning beauty now, and she’s one of those women who are totally clueless about their looks. A very refreshing attribute as a matter of fact.” He took a deep, weary breath. “Did you ever talk to her back then? What did you think of her?”

  “She never uttered a word to me, not a single syllable. I don’t know what I thought. Just felt a lot of pity I guess. She had those deplorable old clothes and looked like she needed a good meal. Hung around with a chubby friend wit
h thick glasses who was equally as dilapidated—that I remember. Madeline, I think her name was. She wasn’t as shy. Her hair was chopped up to her ears also—maybe it’s the standard orphan haircut. The two of them always seemed to be hovering around in corners doing God-knows-what.”

  Evan chuckled, and Brian demanded “What?”

  “Nothing,” he smiled.

  Brian frowned at him. “You think they were stalking me?”

  “Of course they were,” Evan laughed.

  “News to me.” Brian shook his head, and then rubbed tension out of his neck. “She was always looking in any direction but mine...”

  He suddenly slapped the wheel. “Ha! So that’s why I keep feeling this sense of dejavu! The only woman who would never look me in the eye!” Then he sighed in exasperation. “Now she wants nothing to do with me. Takes great pains to duck me or lie to me. Why would she tail me around Boston and follow me home if she wanted to avoid me? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Got me there. I’m not really sure what’s going on.”

  “Unless she’s part of a convoluted conspiracy to fleece us of our money. Being so poor can drive you to do things you might not ordinarily consider.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Evan countered. “Not her. One thing I can recognize on sight is a woman of good character. Poor or not.”

  They rode in silence for a few miles, then Brian said: “You know, Dad, the one thing that really sticks out in my mind was her decrepit running shoes. She always wore the exact same pair and the rubber souls were separating, almost turning to powder. I was walking behind her in the school hallway one day—she probably didn’t know it—and I couldn’t take my eyes off her butchered hair and awful clothes. I wondered back then why her parents would send her to school looking like that.”