Five feet.
And both men simply stare at each other.
When John Giusti says, flatly, with no trace of emotion, and so privately that no one except for Nina seems to hear.
“If you hit her again, I’ll kill you.”
Clifton Barrett shows no sign of recognition or emotion.
John turns away and leaves.
Barrett enters his car.
The door closes.
And the car drives away.
CHAPTER 11: BY THE SEA BY THE SEA…
Slightly before noon, Nina was dropped off by one of the town’s squad cars.
She made her way up the stairs, pushed open the door, which she’d forgotten to lock, and went out onto her deck, where Helen Reddington was smoking a cigarette.
“Hi. Welcome back to where you live.”
“Hello, Helen.”
“I made myself at home. The door was unlocked. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t.”
Helen was wearing a black bikini and had propped her feet on the rail. She’d pulled a small end table up beside her. On the table was a glass half filled with water, a package of Marlboro cigarettes, and a small dish that she’d taken from the kitchen to use as an ashtray.
“Like my abs? I have great abs.”
This was true. There was no fat at all on her stomach, and the softly curved tan muscles looked like dunes in a quiet desert.
“No boobs of course. But that gets taken care of.”
“Really?”
She drew on the cigarette, then exhaled smoke over the rail and half-smiled.
“I have a contract to do a film next year. I’m some sort of super heroine. Powers and all that. I get to beat people up.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, I enjoy it, except it isn’t real. Same thing with my body. If the upper part needs to be bigger, then they make it bigger. All illusion. All, all illusion. I’m sorry for what just happened to you in court, Nina.”
“You know?” asked Nina, drawing up a chair and sitting down.
“Overheard. Overheard Clifton and his lawyer talking when they got back to Grandmamma’s. He wins again, of course.”
“I don’t think they’re going to do anything to Margot. She apologized. It almost killed her, but she apologized.”
“That’s good.”
She drew hard on her cigarette, then stubbed it out.
“I didn’t know that you smoked, Helen.”
“How could I not smoke? Given everything. The way things are, the way I’ve made them—how could I not smoke?”
They were silent for a time. Finally Nina asked:
“So how bad is it? You don’t have to pretend anymore that things are wonderful. I’m your friend, Helen; you know that. How bad is it, really?”
Helen shook her head while lighting another cigarette.
“It’s hell.”
More silence.
Then:
“The great actress, Helen Reddington. Come down to Bay St. Lucy to convince everyone that I’d achieved it all. Great career, New York, fame, London. Wonderful marriage, wonderful husband––heaven. But Nina—be careful what you wish for.”
Nina could think of nothing to say. Finally Helen gestured out toward the ocean.
“Look, porpoises.”
“Yes. The two of them swim by every day about this time, going south, toward Hatteras. I suppose they pass by the other way sometime. During the night. I don’t know.”
“I used to love watching the porpoises. I’d name them, like kids do.”
She took a deep breath and said:
“I had it all out there. It was waiting for me. The whole world. And now…now I’ve ruined it. I’ve lost it all, and I’ve ruined it.”
“Helen, you have your career.”
She shook her head.
“No, he has my career.”
“You mean Clifton Barrett? But that can’t be true.”
“What is true, what is not true—that’s more confusing than you might think, somehow.”
“Helen—Helen, you have to leave this man.”
“Really, Nina? Do I?”
“Of course you do. He beats you!”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“He does; I saw him!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I was there! I saw him hit you!”
“But twenty-eight people saw him not hit me. And that’s the reality, don’t you see?”
“All right, so twenty eight people are scared to death of the man.”
“Cross him and they’ll never work again.”
“It doesn’t matter. You can still leave him.”
“But I can’t.”
“Leave him!”
“I can’t! I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Because he has my money!”
They sat for a time, Nina remembering something that Frank had been told about unforgivable mistakes in interrogating witnesses:
‘Never ask a question you don’t know the answer to.’
Good, she thought, that the two of them were not in court now. Of course she’d been in court two hours ago and had made a fool of herself.
Somehow that seemed unimportant now.
“How—how is this possible, Helen?”
A shrug. “Lawyers.”
Nina nodded. “I know about lawyers.”
“Not the kind of lawyers Clifton has.”
“All right. I guess that’s true. But still…”
Helen leaned across the table:
“The long and short of it is this: a year ago Jackson Bennett called me and said there were—well, concerns, about Grandmamma’s age. She was fine mentally, but at over eighty…well, he suggested that there be a power of attorney giving me control of her business affairs. So such a document was made out, and signed by all parties. Grandmamma had no objection.”
“All right. So you have her power of attorney.”
“Which means Clifton has it, as my husband.”
“Helen, you kept none of your property?”
“No. It’s all in his name.”
“But why would you…”
“Why would I what? Say ‘no’ when the smartest lawyers in the world are telling me how rich the man was already, and how Grandmamma’s funds would be tripled within six weeks if placed together with Clifton’s fortune and invested wisely? Would I say no to that?”
“But…if he has that wealth…”
“He has nothing.”
“What?”
“He’s a fraud financially.”
“He’s one of the most successful actors in the world!”
Helen smiled:
“Yes, he is, isn’t he? Yes, he is.”
“But he must have made a fortune as an actor!”
“And lost it. Several times over. Lost it, Nina. Most of what he has now is Grandmamma’s money.”
“All right. So divorce him and get that money back!”
“And why would he allow me to do that?”
“Threaten him! Threaten to tell the truth about him!”
“The way you just did?”
“But surely someone…”
“I’ve had three affairs, Nina.”
Shocked, Nina could only stare for a time across the table.
Never ask a question you don’t know the answer to.
Except, Nina found herself thinking, there is a better version of that piece of advice.
The better version:
Just shut up and never say anything at all.
“Helen, how could you do such a thing?”
“Nina, how could you lie in court about having seen Clifton hit me?”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Everybody thinks you did, so you did.”
And, finally beginning to understand, Nina shook her head slowly.
“The affairs you had were fictitious.”
“Oh what a thing to say! Fictitious! Why, there are pictures o
f the men! There are hotel receipts! If I have a hard time remembering ever having done these things, taken part in these assignations, slept with these men—and by the way, one of them is quite famous, the story will break next month, it will be fabulous for his career––if I forget these things, it’s because I have Alzheimer’s Disease. Just setting in early.”
“You didn’t do it? You didn’t have these affairs?”
“No. Of course not.”
“But he’ll convince the world that you did.”
“Yes.”
“And then…”
“Then he’ll divorce me. “
“When will this happen, Helen?”
“When he gets tired of me. I’m already twenty-three. Clifton, I’ve found, prefers younger women. He was with a thirty-five year old—Constance––at the restaurant when Margot slapped him. But that’s not like him. I’ve heard that he has a twenty-year old in mind. His next ‘minion.’ So the story about my affairs will break. He will, in tears, announce the divorce, we will separate—Grandmamma and I will receive a small settlement, he will keep the rest—my career will be over, he will see to it—and that will be that.”
Nina was silent for a time.
Finally she said:
“I believe I understand now, why the two of you agreed to come and do this play.”
“Yes, you probably do. We came for the money. A million dollars.”
“Are you going to get any of it, Helen?”
She shrugged.
“We’ve talked about it. Clifton has…well, he’s held out some hope.”
“Nice of him.”
“There’s a possibility that we will simply split it, and go our separate ways. But he hasn’t agreed to that formally. He says he’s being advised concerning his options. We’ll see. Knowing him, the way I have come to, we’ll see.”
“I hope it goes all right. I hope he agrees to split the money.”
“That third wish,” said Helen, softly. “The third wish, in most stories about deals with the devil, when one is granted three wishes––is always for death.”
“You can’t wish for death, Helen.”
“Oh, but I do, Nina. More than you know.”
“You have too much to live for.”
Then Helen smiled at her.
“You misunderstand. I don’t wish for my death. I wish for his.”
“Helen…”
“Somebody needs to kill him.”
CHAPTER 12: THE SOUP KITCHEN
Friday, August 1, the opening day of Hamlet, Hurricane Deborah’s western edge brushed over Bay St. Lucy. Clouds were low and would have been gray/black had they been visible at all and not obscured by horizontal sheets of rain.
The entire community looked like a 1950’s film, viewed on a broken TV.
There were no people, cars, dogs, birds—
––there was only static, punctuated by the occasional fleeting image of a living thing running as fast as possible toward a structure that could not be seen.
By six a.m., rain had begun pouring against Nina’s window; it drummed, rattled, drove, and spattered, as though a group of malicious little boys were standing just below with a fire hose, which they had trained upon her deck and house.
The wind howled like a large sick dog.
The ocean was directly beneath her, lapping happily at the base of the long poles upon which sat her precarious little shack.
She did not mind it, though.
She knew that the water would be no more than two or three inches deep, and she had, ever the experienced coastal dweller, taken pains to tie her freezer, her barbeque grill, and a couple of other storage boxes, fast upon solid ash platforms that had been built for just this purpose.
And so she would have been able to sequester herself in the bedroom and read more novels, had she not been forced, every half hour, to go to the door, open it, and talk to people.
Moon Rivard arrived at seven thirty a.m.
“Ms. Nina?”
“Yes!” she shouted, barely able to make herself heard above the expiring beast that was actually a nicely maturing wind.
“What is it, Moon?”
Howl! Howl! Howl!
Spatterspatter!
Roooooarrrrr!
Moon just outside the door, drenched in black oil slicker; she just inside the door, drenched in the spray of his black oil slicker.
“WHAT IS IT, MOON? HAS SOMETHING HAPPENED?”
“STORM, MA’AM!”
“YES! I CAN SEE IT! WHAT ABOUT IT?”
“I CAME BY!”
“YES, YOU DID!”
“I NEED TO KNOW IF YOU’RE ALL RIGHT!”
“I’M ALL RIGHT EXCEPT I’M A LITTLE WET NOW!”
“HOW’S THAT? NOT SURE I UNDERSTOOD WHAT YOU SAID, MS. NINA!”
“I’M A LITTLE WET BECAUSE OF HAVING TO OPEN THE DOOR!”
“YOU OUGHT TO GET BACK INSIDE!”
“THAT’S TRUE, MOON!”
“YOU SURE YOU’RE ALL RIGHT?”
“ABSOLUTELY!”
“BECAUSE I CAN…”
“GOOD BYE, MOON! THANK YOU FOR COMING BY TO CHECK ON ME!”
“IT AIN’T NOTHING AT ALL! NOW IF I CAN…”
“GOOD BYE MOON!”
And she closed the door, careful not to catch his nose in it.
At eight fifteen, Jackson Bennett came by.
Jackson was larger than Moon, and so she was forced to open the door a bit wider to talk to him.
He had on the same kind of raincoat Moon had been wearing, but there was more of it, so more water sprayed off it and, first, onto the half open door, and, then, onto her.
“NINA!”
“JACKSON!”
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?”
“YES, I’M FINE!”
“ARE YOU SURE?”
“YES, I’M SURE!”
“THEY SAY THIS IS GOING TO LAST ALL DAY, MAYBE INTO THE EVENING!”
“I KNOW!”
“YOU’RE SURE YOU’RE ALL RIGHT!”
“I’M SURE!”
“DO YOU HAVE ENOUGH FOOD?”
“YES I DO, JACKSON!”
“YOU HAVE EVERYTHING YOU NEED?”
“ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING!”
“YOU HAVE COFFEE?”
“I DO.”
“MILK?”
“JACKSON…”
“ANYTHING YOU NEED, YOU JUST TELL ME!”
“I WILL! I DEFINITELY WILL!”
“YOU HAVE MY NUMBER?”
“I DO.”
“DO YOU WANT ME TO WRITE IT DOWN FOR YOU?”
“NO, I’VE GOT IT.”
“YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO EAT FOR LUNCH?”
“LUNCH, DINNER…GOT EVERY THING I NEED.”
“THEY SAY IT’S GOING TO LAST ALL DAY.”
“I THINK YOU TOLD ME THAT, JACKSON!”
“THEY SAY THE PLAY IS STILL GOING ON TONIGHT, THOUGH.”
“GOOD! GLAD TO HEAR IT!”
“NOW, ONCE AGAIN—IF YOU NEED ANYTHING…”
“HAVE A GOOD DAY, JACKSON!”
And she shut the door on him.
A little before ten o’clock Alana Delafosse came by.
She had on enough rain gear to make her look like a small walrus.
“ALANA, WILL YOU COME IN?”
“NO, NO, I’VE COME TO TAKE YOU AWAY!”
“I DON’T WANT TO GO AWAY!”
“YOU CAN’T STAY HERE!”
“I’M FINE, ALANA!”
“PEOPLE ARE GATHERING AT THE CHURCH!”
“WHY?”
“WE HAVE A SOUP KITCHEN!”
“I DON’T WANT TO GO TO A SOUP KITCHEN!”
“YOU DON’T NEED TO BE PROUD!”
“I’M NOT PROUD!”
“YOU CAN TAKE FURL WITH YOU!”
“FURL IS HAPPY WHERE HE IS!”
“ARE YOU COLD?”
“I’M A LITTLE COLD NOW.”
“THIS IS HOW PEOPLE CATCH PNEUMONIA, NINA!”
“I KNOW.”
<
br /> “WE HAVE ROOM IN THE BUS!”
“TAKE THE BUS AWAY!”
“I HATE IT WHEN YOU’RE LIKE THIS!”
“I HATE IT WHEN I’M LIKE THIS, TOO!”
“HAVE YOU HEARD THE FORECAST?”
“YES, IT’S RAINING!”
“AND YOU’RE SURE YOU WON’T COME TO THE SOUP KITCHEN?”
“I HAVE SOUP IN MY OWN KITCHEN!”
“YOU’RE NOT JUST TELLING ME THAT BECAUSE OF PRIDE?”
“I HAVE NO PRIDE, ALANA. I PROMISE I HAVE NO PRIDE.”
“YOU’LL BE AT THE PERFORMANCE THIS EVENING?”
“IF I’M NOT DEAD!”
“WHAT?”
“NOTHING!”
“DO YOU KNOW IF MARGOT HAS HAD ANY MORE TROUBLE WITH CLIFTON BARRETT?”
“NO, I DON’T KNOW IF SHE HAS OR NOT.”
“BECAUSE IT WAS REALLY IMPRUDENT OF HER TO…”
“ALANA…”
“YES, DEAR?”
“THE RAIN IS COMING IN THROUGH THE DOOR!”
“THAT’S WHAT I’M TRYING TO TELL YOU, NINA! IT’S VERY DANGEROUS FOR YOU HERE.”
“IT’S NOT DANGEROUS, ALANA, WHEN THE DOOR IS CLOSED. THEN THE RAIN DOESN’T COME IN.”
“ARE YOU CERTAIN THAT YOU HAVE ENOUGH FOOD?”
“I REALLY AM! I REALLY DO!”
“DO YOU HAVE MILK?”
“ALANA…”
“BECAUSE DOWN BELOW, IN THE BUS, WE HAVE…”
“HAVE A GOOD DAY, ALANA!”
And she shut the door on her.
This went on all day.
No one would come in and sit with her and have a cup of coffee, because they were frightened that her shack would blow away.
She would not leave and go somewhere else, because her little place was warm and dry—except when the front door was open—and she did in fact have coffee and milk and innumerable other little items of food, so that she was fairly confident of her ability to get through the next six hours or so without having a sudden attack of starvation and dying from it.
Furl slept comfortably on the corner of her—now partially his—bed, and she envied him.
No neighboring cats came to the door and forced him to go answer it and get wet, while they pleaded with him to leave his dry little nook to go out in the storm with them and go to the basement of a cat church.
“Lucky Furl,” she found herself muttering.
Around noon she gave up trying to read in the bedroom.
She pulled a straight chair to within a foot of the front door, dragged a standing lamp to within a few inches of it, turned on the lamp, and tried to read there, close enough that she could reach out and answer the door after only one knock.
Set Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries) Page 14