by Kira Blakely
That was when the real icy chill hit me. What if her role was to be found, to seduce me, and that’s it? What if she got hit by something in the cabin and her memory loss wasn’t part of the plan? Maybe that part was legit and we’d never find out if that’s how she ended up there? Or, worse yet, she could remember it somewhere along the way and then take a hike on me.
That’s when I realized I had to be careful. I couldn’t trust her completely. I’d be insane to do that. I couldn’t let myself really fall for her! I could just envision myself coming clean, being absolutely honest with her and then it would come back to bite me. It could be like getting drugged and confessing things you wanted kept quiet, only to have your enemies exploit it and kill or ruin you. Was that what was going on? Could Jerry be in on this?
Damn! Damn! Damn! Now I was really freaking. That was one problem with being at the top; there was always someone ready to push you off and watch you hit the pavement below.
I glanced over the rail and my stomach went south. Stumbling, I made a quick exit and went back down into the condo. Another two fingers of scotch went into my glass to calm my shaking hands. There was nothing for it—I’d have to keep up my guard, at least until I could prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wasn’t a setup.
The scotch went into the bedroom with me that night and into my empty stomach. I laid naked on the bed with all the lights off, the moon pouring a silvery path of light across the bedroom carpet. I tried to calm down, to be rational and recall all the little details of our meeting and the time we spent afterward.
Good poker players looked for tells. What were hers? I tried not to think of the sex—Jesus, but that thought hurt. Was she a low-class hooker and was that why she’d let me have her so easily? Then, later, on the drive to Traverse. She’d gone down on me as though it was no big deal.
I flew off the mattress and barely made it to the toilet before the sour thought brought up everything left in my stomach. Thank God, it wasn’t much. I’d broken my own rule—getting mega drunk without eating. I was grateful for the heated tile floor that night, as it became my mattress and the toilet, my porcelain companion. I didn’t stop drinking, though… not until the last drop.
I was too drunk to find another bottle, so I let that one run its full course, feeding my overly active imagination with every horrible, angry, bitter scenario I could manufacture. She was no angel laid in my path as a reward for good deeds. She had, in the space of a couple hours, become a black-hearted whore who was spying on me and passing my innocent trust to the enemy. God, but I hated her. Even more, I hated my culpability.
* * *
By the next morning, the pain in my head and the bitterness in my stomach outpaced anything my conscious mind could recall. I texted Leigh that I would be in late and she, professionally, asked if I needed anything. Was there a list long enough?
Sleeping until noon helped a little; the hair of the dog helped a little more. I decided to skip the entire day. Call it a dry run for the upcoming weeks when the ship would be in Jerry’s hands. I finally made myself a sandwich and ate it while looking out over the lake. The sun was shining and the waves laughed in its face as they rolled out of reach and became nothing more than wet sand. I could relate.
I was a little more rational by then, but the thought nightmare I’d conjured the night before had left its mark on me. There were too many times when I’d gamed a competitor; maybe not this way, but at least to set them up in a compromising position that forced them to bow to my demands. Hell, I was no angel; I’d be the first to admit it. Angels were poor and homeless; gamers looked down over the city the same as I was doing in that moment.
I thought about Elspeth, sitting somewhere beneath me across from the shrink. He’d been instructed to run her through a mental sieve, extract every impression and every bit of information he could, and report it back to me. Doubtless she was resenting me at that moment, wondering why she’d agreed to stay. Was her trust being compromised? Mine had. Was that fair to her? Hell, nothing in life was fair.
Then came that little voice again. This time, it pleaded on her behalf, begging me to realize that the whole setup scenario was a figment of my overly-imaginative mind. I was a tactician; all good businessmen were. Had I become my own victim?
Was Elspeth exactly as she appeared? A sweet girl from somewhere down south who had, for some reason, ended up in the UP, abandoned alongside the road and then she’d sought out the only shelter available?
Could it be that simple? Not likely—not in my world. But then I didn’t know her world. I didn’t know what it was to be at the hands of fate, to be cast aside as useless. I’d always enjoyed the power, the money, the reputation, and the fearful respect of those who wanted what I had. They say everything in life is a matter of perspective, and mine was shifting as I breathed.
I resolved to return to the trusting guy who had come upstairs the night before, filled with excitement and the possibility of having found a golden nugget. I owed it to myself, and I owed it to her.
That was when I got the text from Leigh that changed the course of things for me.
CALL ME
“Tell me.” I wasted no time with preliminaries.
“It’s bad, Finn.”
“Tell me, god damn it!”
“Marty. It’s Marty. He’s dead, Finn.”
I sucked in my breath so hard, saliva went down my windpipe, and I dissolved into a choking convulsion.
“Finn? Finn? Are you okay?”
As a boy, watching movies, it had become a pet peeve of mine that when someone was choking, people asked, “Are you okay?” Like the person choking could interrupt it and say calmly, “Quite fine, ol’ chap,” and then continue choking. I guess Leigh had the assurance that at least I was still breathing. In my head, however, was the similarity between what I’d just heard and the movie where all the reliable, trusted characters were dropping like flies. That was immediately followed by being aghast for thinking only of myself. Or am I?
I got dressed and headed down to the office. Bursting through the doors, I headed for Leigh’s desk and looked up to see she was already waiting for me in my office. She knew me so well.
“Glad to see you’re breathing,” she said and I was about to snap off her head when I saw in her eyes that she was genuinely concerned. There had been no way for her to check on me. No one, not even Leigh, was permitted in my penthouse. I’d made that rule when I moved in, so no lines would be crossed, and there were so many lines that could be easily crossed.
“What happened?”
“A woman called on the private line. She identified herself as Maggie and said she was his girlfriend. She said she’d gone to his apartment and when she let herself in, she found him on the floor. She thinks he had a heart attack because his hand was still lying over his heart, but of course, there’s no way to know. The coroner took him away.”
“Damn!” I was horrified at his passing and secretly, at the information he’d died with and I’d never know. He worked alone, didn’t own a computer, and kept no records. His clients counted on that. Everything that Marty uncovered stayed in Marty’s brain, imparted only to the client who’d hired him. “Hell, I don’t even know if he has any family.”
“I don’t think so. Well, okay, Finn, I’m going to tell you now before you hear it elsewhere. He had no family. Parents dead, no siblings, not even a cousin. He was married once, when he was fresh out of high school and she ran off with someone. He was alone. Well, except for the girlfriend…” Her voice trailed off and she teared up.
“Tell me.”
“I used to date him, Finn. Purely personal—we never discussed you or the business. You have to believe me.”
I looked at her hard, and despite the tears in her beautiful eyes, I could tell she was telling me the truth. Anyway, I knew if there was a bomb coming from that direction, it would have exploded long before.
“How did it end?”
“He had a temper; I’d had enough
.”
“That why he was no longer a cop?”
“That’s right,” she verified and I could see her knees were shaking as she stood.
“Sit down.” I poured us both a scotch from the bar in the wall and handed it to her. “Sorry, Leigh, I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t supposed to. We both knew we never crossed any lines when it came to you and figured if we let on, you’d always wonder. We’d have to resign and you’d lose two of the people you could truly trust. So, in a way we were protecting you from yourself. Sorry, but that’s how we saw it.”
“You were probably right.” I nodded and took a swig. “So, I guess that’s it.”
She nodded and sipped her glass first, then upended it and swallowed it all. I’d never seen her drink and had no idea she had that sort of capacity. “Jesus, Leigh.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Finn… but none that would compromise you. You have my word on that.”
“Well, hell, now I don’t know what to do. Do we send flowers somewhere? A funeral?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Marty was private and although he still had some buddies in the force, he knew he had a dangerous career and he could wind up dead before his time. I’m not saying that’s what happened, but even if there was a funeral, it’s not like his clients would show up and show their cards, if you know what I mean.”
I saw her point. “So, that’s it?”
“Pretty much. We talked about it once. I guess maybe I got closer to him than the others, and I knew there were and would be others. He played things like that, Finn. He never got too close to anyone. In fact, I think he was closer to you than anyone I know. He thought of you like a son and more than once, I could see how proud he was of you when you’d win an award or pull off buying a new company. No, he’ll be cremated when the coroner is done with him and that will be it.”
“Jesus! Not even a mourner.”
“Marty was very much about trying not to die, Finn.”
“I guess so. Listen, you go home and don’t come in tomorrow if you don’t want to.”
“I’ll go now, but I’ll be here tomorrow. This is home. You see, Marty and I had that in common. Neither of us had family; maybe that’s why we hit it off.” She stood up, set the empty glass on the corner of my desk, and walked to the door. With her back still toward me, she said, “You’re my family, Finn,” and the door clicked softly as she disappeared.
Chapter 16
Elspeth
I texted Finn and invited him to dinner. We may as well let Pierre earn his money, even if he was on his way out the door. We hadn’t told him yet. There were three people you never told you were about to fire: your lawyer, your doctor, and your chef.
I’LL BE THERE AT SIX
Pierre went to extra trouble; I could tell by the way he cursed when something didn’t go as planned and the offending dish was unceremoniously thrown into the trash. There would be a flurry of French curses and pan washing as the next attempt was in line. Even Mary knew to stay out of his way. He was entirely too temperamental for my taste; eating should be pleasurable, not a labor.
I gave in and let myself wear the pink suit with the box jacket. I knew it was a bit much for just dinner at home, but it would be the only time I’d wear it, so I made an exception this once. Finn was on time, as expected.
“Hi!” I greeted him happily and could see something was wrong. “What is it?”
“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry,” he said in a preoccupied voice. “Lost a friend today. I don’t know what happened and there’s no funeral.”
“I’m so sorry. That must really be painful.”
“You ever lose someone close?”
“I don’t know,” I said and I was being completely honest. “But I can tell he will be missed by you.” I went to him and laid my cheek on his chest, wrapping my arms around his torso as far as I could get them. He hugged me back and the remembered warmth between us caused us to melt into one another. I could smell his aftershave and remembered thinking how right he smelled that day in the blizzard, both of us naked and huddled into one another.
I took him by the hand and we went out to sit on the enclosed balcony overlooking the lake. The wind was calm and the sky prematurely dark. There were dark clouds to the northwest, and you could smell the promise of snow in the air. Under different circumstances, it would have been a highly romantic situation.
“Would you like me to have Pierre make you a drink? I’d do it myself, but he won’t let me in the kitchen, and I think that’s where the booze is kept,” I offered.
“No, I’ve had enough already today... and last night.”
“Last night?”
“Yeah, got carried away and never ate. I was sick as a dog on the bathroom floor all night.”
“Why?”
“Probably because I hadn’t eaten.”
“No, I mean, why did you get so drunk? Do you do that often?”
He shook his head. “Nah, very, very rare and usually in the company of close buddies where I can stay the night. I won’t drive if I’ve been drinking.”
“Something made you want to drink,” I pressed him further.
He opened his mouth, as if he were about to confess something, when Pierre opened the patio door and announced dinner.
“We’d better go in,” I told Finn. “He’s not had a good day and if we let it get cold, he’s liable to push us off the balcony. No matter what it is, pretend it’s good, okay? He’s kind of getting screwed out of this job and that makes me feel bad.”
Finn smiled and for me, it gave me a sense of relief. He hadn’t smiled since he came in the door so I knew whoever the friend was he’d lost had meant a lot to him.
Pierre, anxious to impress Finn, outdid himself. He proudly announced each course as he brought it in, and frankly I was glad he did, because I wouldn’t have recognized even half of it. Everything looked like something in a magazine; all blended colors with sprigs of plants or a flourish of some sauce dripped over the top of it.
Finn seemed to enjoy it. I could have settled for one course and been happy, but then maybe I was just not a gourmet. I made a mental note of that. I about died when Pierre came in with dessert and lit it on fire. Finn was smiling so I knew it was okay, but he could have just warmed it up in the microwave and I’d have been perfectly happy.
When Pierre’s show was done, Finn and I went back onto the balcony and were served coffee in small cups. I didn’t care for its strong taste, but pretended to sip it. When Pierre went inside, I tossed the liquid over the railing. “Don’t tell him,” I begged Finn, who only smiled and tossed his own. We were now cohorts in crime, and I loved it.
“So, did the doctor show up to talk with you today?” he asked.
I nodded. “He was right on time. Mary let him in and we sat in the living room. He was okay, but I don’t think we accomplished anything.”
“Why is that?” Finn was keenly interested; I could tell by the tone of his voice.
“Well, he asked a lot of questions and when I answered, which I couldn’t always, he’d just nod and write things down. He never told me what he thought was wrong or give me any idea how to get my memory back.”
Finn smiled. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault. Originally, before we had that talk, I’d told him to give me his impression of what he’d found. I know that was a lousy thing for me to do, and I’m really sorry.”
I nodded. “Okay, and I can sort of see why you would have done that, so we’ll let it go.”
“I’ll have a talk with him tomorrow. If you like, we can meet here and have him talk to both of us at the same time.”
“I would appreciate that. After all, it’s my life we’re talking about. It would be nice if I could hear about it first.” I knew that he could hear the sarcasm in my voice.
“No problem. I’m not sure what time he’s scheduled, but I’ll give you advanced notice. I’ll have to ask Leigh when I get in tomorrow morning.”
“There’s something I wanted to talk with you about,” I told him, hesitating because I knew it would cause him to argue with me, and he seemed to be having a hard day as it was.
“What’s that?”
“Promise not to get mad?”
“Okay, I promise.” Although we were sitting side-by-side, his head was turned so that he was looking at me full on. I could see he was tense and knew he was preparing himself for bad news.
I couldn’t stand to make him suffer with the suspense, so I blurted out quickly, “I don’t want the clothes. They don’t belong to me, I haven’t earned them, and I don’t want to keep taking things from you. It just doesn’t feel right.”
It was pretty much as I expected — he wasn’t terribly happy.
He drew a deep breath and said, “Don’t you like the clothes?”
“They’re beautiful, but as I said, they’re not really mine, and I think that it’s important that I do something to earn my keep.”
“Earn your keep? This isn’t charity, Elspeth. It gives me pleasure to give you things. Can’t you just accept it in that spirit?”
“I know you mean well, but this is more about my pride than your generosity.”
“Please, change your mind,” he begged me and I could hear in his voice a vulnerability that softened me inside. I knew it could be very rude to refuse well-intended gifts.
“I’ll tell you what. Everything you bought is very beautiful, but it’s really not me. Like this outfit I’m wearing right now. It was my favorite of everything you bought me and I think I’m way overdressed.”
“I noticed the moment I walked in how beautiful you look. You have to remember, the women I’ve dated in the past weren’t used to being complimented. They spent all day on their appearance and took it for granted that they were at their best.”
I must have looked disappointed, because he immediately tried to reframe his words.
“That didn’t come out right. What I’m trying to say is that you look beautiful tonight. You are simply a beautiful woman, and there’s nothing you could wear that would change that.”