“Don’t interfere in what you don’t understand.” Gabe went into the kitchen to put the Glenlivet back in the cupboard, and when he came out, he was putting his coat on. “I have to go talk to Riley. I’ll see you later.”
Nell watched him go and thought, You’re so smart about everything else, but you can’t let go of the past. She shook her head and stroked Marlene’s silky head and tried not to think about Lynnie or anybody else for a while. So much pain everywhere, she thought, and then Marlene snuggled closer, and she felt a little comforted.
* * *
“She was frozen?” Suze said the next day at brunch.
“I’m so glad I never use my freezer,” Margie said. “Stewart wanted one because he liked steaks, but I think fresh food is important.”
Nell looked at her, dumbfounded, and Suze nodded toward Margie’s orange juice glass. “Mimosa,” she said to Nell. “She ordered before you got here. That’s her third.”
“If she’d been a vegetarian,” Margie said, oblivious, “she wouldn’t have died.”
“It wasn’t her freezer,” Nell said, not amused. “It was her landlady’s freezer. She didn’t have a freezer.”
“So somebody just put her in there?” Suze sat back. “At least Jack left me, he didn’t freeze me.”
“Gabe said it looked like there was a bruise on her forehead, but it was hard to tell. She was…” Nell swallowed, thinking about what Lynnie must have looked like, and Margie shoved her mimosa toward her.
“Here,” she said. “It helps.”
Nell took the glass and drank.
“Are you okay?” Suze said. “I didn’t realize you knew her that well.”
“I didn’t,” Nell said, pushing Margie’s glass back to her. “Just that one morning. But I liked her. She was a fighter. She fought dirty, but I think she was probably fighting with guys who fought dirty.”
“What guys?” Margie said. “Was she engaged?”
“Gabe thinks she was blackmailing somebody,” Suze said, and Nell kicked her on the ankle. Margie didn’t need to know the “somebody” included her father and her fiancé.
Margie looked sadly at the bottom of her empty mimosa glass. “Somebody blackmailed me once.”
“What?” Nell said.
Margie waved to the waitress. “Another mimosa, please.”
“Make that a black coffee,” Suze told the waitress, who looked at Margie and nodded.
“Who tried to blackmail you?” Nell said to Margie.
“Some woman.” Margie sighed as the waitress brought her a cup and filled it. When the waitress was gone, she said, “She wanted twenty thousand dollars, but I didn’t have it. Budge says I should declare Stewart dead now, before I get any broker, but it just seems wrong. I mean, he’s missing, not dead. I think.”
“Margie,” Suze said, her voice carefully reasonable. “Why did she want twenty thousand dollars?”
“She said I’d killed Stewart.” Margie took her thermos of soy milk out of her bag and topped up her coffee. “She said if I didn’t pay her, she’d tell everybody.” She sipped her coffee until the level had dropped half an inch, and then she poured more soy milk in. “Which was ridiculous. I mean, clearly we didn’t know the same people. What did I care if she told her friends that?”
“Just how hard did you hit him?” Suze said.
“When?” Nell said.
“Any time,” Margie said, sipping her soy and caffeine. “I was never going to know her friends.”
Nell took a deep breath. “No, when did she call?”
“Last year.” Margie put her cup down and went back to her vegetarian eggs Benedict. “I never make this because the Hollandaise sauce is such a pain.”
“When last year?” Nell said.
“Hmmm? Oh, it was before you got your job because I was worried about you not eating and I was looking at a recipe for cheese crepes when she called. I remember looking at the picture when she asked for the money. Do you like crepes?”
“Margie,” Nell said. “When did she call?”
Margie frowned, thinking. “When did you get your job?”
“September,” Nell said.
Margie shrugged. “Then it was August. But it didn’t matter because she never called back.”
“Did you tell anybody?” Nell said.
“Daddy and Budge,” Margie said, reaching for the coffee again. “They said it was a prank. Budge said to forget it, it was over. So I did.” She sipped from her cup and then said, “Oh. Was it Lynnie?”
“Hard to say,” Nell said. “But it doesn’t matter. Budge was right, it’s over.”
“Budge is always right,” Margie said and put her cup down. “He says we should get married as soon as I declare Stewart dead. It’s really a problem because I would like the insurance money, but it’s wrong to declare Stewart dead if he isn’t, and once he’s dead I’ll have to tell Budge I don’t want to marry him, and that’s going to be awful. Could I have one more mimosa, please?”
Suze signaled the waitress. “Three mimosas,” she told her.
“You, too?” Nell said.
“It’s the freezer,” Suze said. “If he’d just killed her, that would have been bad enough, but he put her body in the freezer.”
“Actually, it’s worse than that,” Nell said. “Gabe said the bruise on her forehead didn’t look bad, that she probably hadn’t been killed first, that whoever hit her had probably put her in the freezer unconscious but alive and she froze to death.”
“Oh, God,” Suze said.
“That’s like Jack,” Margie said. “He put you in that big house and didn’t want you to work or anything. He froze you to death, too.”
Suze winced and Nell said, “Margie, shut up,” and Margie jerked back a little, looking hurt. “I’m sorry,” Nell said, “I’m really sorry I said that. This thing with Lynnie is just … I liked her and somebody killed her.” She took a deep breath and tried again. “I felt so stupid about sitting around for a year and a half after Tim, and I really admired her for fighting back.”
“Don’t feel stupid,” Suze said gloomily. “I understand perfectly.”
“But Lynnie didn’t sit around,” Nell said. “She went after people. And they killed her. I mean, you really have to think, are those our choices? Sit still and be nice or get killed?”
“More women get killed by men they know than by strangers,” Margie said. “It was on Oprah. I like Oprah, but sometimes she’s depressing.”
Suze let her breath out. “Lynnie was blackmailing people, for heaven’s sake. That’s a high-risk career.”
“It was some guy who did it,” Nell said. “I will bet you anything. Some guy from her past who had betrayed her. She was getting even with him.”
“Jack,” Suze said.
“I don’t know.” Nell stared at her French toast. “Do you think Jack would kill somebody?”
“No,” Suze said. “But he’s got the betrayal thing down pat.”
They sat silent until the waitress brought their mimosas, and then Margie said, “Do you think you could come by and show me that eBay thing you were talking about? The place that has the Fiestaware? You can sell things on there, too, right?”
“Sure,” Suze said. “You can look at the running cups, too.”
“No,” Margie said. “They’re not my style.”
* * *
The police came to talk to Gabe again on Monday, and he told them the truth: He didn’t know who’d hit Lynnie. Then they questioned Nell in the outer office, and that made him edgy; they couldn’t possibly think she had anything to do with it. It took everything he had not to say, “Get away from her,” and by the time they left, he was as annoyed at Nell as he was with them. If she hadn’t taken it upon herself to go after the damn money, she’d never have met Lynnie, she wouldn’t have been around when Doris had found her, and she wouldn’t be on the police’s top-ten favorite witness list now.
So when she came in, he scowled at her, and when she said, “Th
e cops almost fell through the couch, we have to get a new one,” his temper flared.
“No.”
“Gabe, it’s horrible. The rest of this place looks great, but that—”
“The rest of the place does not look great, the rest of the place looks like every goddamn office in the city. The couch stays.”
She folded her arms, her deceptively delicate face scowling at him. She was about as delicate as a sledgehammer. “Let me guess. Your dad bought the couch.”
He closed his eyes. “Why do you have to change everything? I don’t even recognize that outer office anymore. It looks like some fucking doctor’s office.”
“It’s tasteful,” Nell said.
“It’s slick,” Gabe said. “And it’s not me and it’s not Riley—”
“And it’s not your dad,” Nell finished. “And it’s also not 1955.”
“And it’s my office,” Gabe said. “Not yours.” He leaned forward, staring her down. “Remember this. You are just a secretary. You—” He stopped because she’d gone even paler than usual.
“I am not just a secretary,” she said, her voice low and breathless. “Nobody is just a secretary, you jerk.”
Gabe cast his eyes to the ceiling, knowing that if he looked at her, he’d lose it. “Goddamn it, Nell, this is my business.”
“I know it’s your business. You tell me that every damn day. I’m just trying to run it for you. I’m an office manager. You have an office to manage. I’m doing that. If you’d stop getting in my way—”
“I’m not Tim,” Gabe said, and she shut up. “Stop assuming this is the insurance agency and that you can run me the way you ran him.”
“I’m not Chloe. Stop assuming you can run me the way you ran her. What is it with men? Budge is making Margie quit the teashop because he’ll worry too much if she’s down here with murderers. What do you guys think, that you just acquire us and put us in the background and that we’ll just stay there, so you can be comfy?”
He drew in a deep breath so he wouldn’t yell again, using everything he had not to yell again, and she pressed her lips together and said, “Lynnie was right. You’d use me without even noticing me if you could,” and left, her back poker-straight, practically shaking with fury.
Riley came in a minute later when Gabe was still trying to get his temper back. He didn’t use her, goddamn it, he—
“The cops weren’t too bad,” Riley said, “and I just got a very interesting phone call.” Then he looked at Gabe’s face and said, “Oh, hell, tell me you’re not fighting again.”
“The couch,” Gabe said, grimly. “Nell has problems with the chain of command. She’ll learn.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Riley closed the door and came in to sit across from Gabe. “Are you all right? You look like hell.”
Gabe realized he was sweating. From rage, probably. Jesus, she was going to kill him. “I get so mad at her I can’t stop yelling. And at the same time I want to grab her and—”
“I know,” Riley said.
“And she just stands there, her hands on her hips, daring me to do it. I swear to God, she thinks it’s foreplay.”
“I know.”
“And a lot of the time it is,” Gabe said, thinking about it. “That woman is a fucking miracle in bed.”
“I know,” Riley said.
Gabe felt his temper flare, and Riley said hastily, “No, I don’t. I’ve forgotten. I can barely remember her name.” When Gabe still glared, he said, “Hey, I’m not the one who wants a new couch.”
Gabe put his head in his hands. “I finally understand why men hit women.”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t understand. It’s all a game to you. But I swear to God, when you can’t make her do what you need her to do, and you can’t live without her—”
“This is not like you,” Riley said, straightening in his chair. “Jesus, get a grip.”
“I can’t,” Gabe said. “There’s nothing to grip. There’s my life that’s disappearing under ten coats of paint, and the woman who’s burying it is the center of it.” He looked up at Riley who was staring at him with real alarm, and he said, “I’d never hit her. But she starts in and I can feel it all slipping away from me, and I can’t do a damn thing about it because I crave her. I just want to slow her down—”
“Okay,” Riley said. “Could I suggest therapy? Because this is not like you. In fact, if it’s that bad, fire her. Get her out of your life. I mean, I love her—platonically of course,” he added when Gabe glared again, “but she’s not worth this.”
“I can’t,” Gabe said, feeling like a fool because it was true. “Sometimes I think it would be better if she’d just go away, but I need her. If she’d just stand still for a minute. If every damn minute didn’t have to be about change—”
“I suppose compromise is out of the question.”
“I tried that. I ended up with these goddamn yellow walls.”
Riley looked at him as if he were insane.
“I didn’t want yellow walls,” Gabe said. “I liked the old walls.”
Riley shook his head. “Okay, you have to stop yelling because it’s frying your brain cells.”
“The yelling is what’s keeping me from killing her. I think it’s what kept my dad from hitting my mom. He was so crazy about her, and she was so hot-tempered and stubborn and contrary—”
“I don’t suppose you’re seeing a pattern here,” Riley said.
“God, I hope not,” Gabe said. “She left him.” He sat back in his chair, exhausted. “If she’d just let me run this place, we’d be okay. I’m her boss, for Christ’s sake.”
“Kissers,” Riley said. “Who calls the shots in bed?”
“I have scars,” Gabe said, “but I think I may be ahead on points.”
“So you don’t solve anything there, either.”
“No. The better it gets, the worse it gets.”
Riley was quiet for a long while, and Gabe finally said, “What?”
“Are you sure you won’t hit her?”
“Yes.”
“Try not to say anything about this to anybody else. I get chills thinking about what the cops could do with this conversation.”
“I know. I get chills thinking about it myself. It’s like I know the guy who hit Lynnie. He’s like me.”
“No, he’s not,” Riley said.
“I just wonder if that’s how she died, if she pushed too hard, and he broke and hit her. I try to picture Trevor doing it, or Jack, and it’s easy. Not so easy with Budge,” he added as an afterthought.
“Depends,” Riley said. “He gets a look in his eye when he’s around Margie that is not good.”
“Even Stewart,” Gabe said. “I can see Stewart being dumb enough to kill her. The part I cannot see is putting her in the freezer. What kind of sick—” Nell knocked and came in, and he closed his eyes. “No more. I honest to God can’t take any more today.”
“It’s just your schedule for tomorrow,” she said, and she sounded as tired as he was.
“Okay,” he said. She looked awful. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s not you.”
She smiled tightly at Riley and left, and he turned to Gabe and said, “If you two don’t get therapy, I’m holding an intervention.”
“It’s just a bad day,” Gabe said. “It’ll get better. What were you going to say when you came in here?”
“Oh, right. I don’t know if this is better, but here’s something new: Gina is divorcing Harold for adultery. It’s the end of the Hot Lunch as we knew it. Can you believe it?”
“Yes,” Gabe said. “He changed the rules on her. They had a deal and he messed with it and now there’s nothing to keep them together.”
“It wasn’t much of a deal,” Riley said.
“You don’t get to judge other people’s deals,” Gabe said. “You just get to make your own and hold on.”
“I don’t think you and Nell have the sa
me deal,” Riley said.
“I’m still holding on,” Gabe said.
* * *
Suze was washing down tables when Nell came into The Cup, looking like hell.
“What?” Suze said. “What did he do?”
“He called,” Nell said. “He wants to meet me at the Sycamore. I think he’s bringing Whitney.”
“Whitney?” Suze said, and did a fast readjustment. “Tim called.”
“He wants to have dinner.” Nell drew a deep breath. “I haven’t seen him for weeks, I actually forgot about him, and now this. I don’t know.”
“Are you going?”
“Well, yes,” Nell said. “It could be anything. We still own a business together. We have a son. I can’t just say no.”
“Sure you can,” Suze said. “And if you can’t, I can. I’m going with you.”
* * *
At five-thirty that night, Gabe came out his office and said, “I’m done for the day. You?”
“I don’t think so,” Riley said. “I think I need a beer. Let’s go to the Sycamore.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Nell didn’t tell you?”
Gabe shook his head. “She said she and Suze were going to the Sycamore for dinner. I thought maybe Suze needed some time with her. Or maybe she just needed time away from me.”
“They’re meeting Tim,” Riley said. “Suze figures Whitney is going to be with him and they’re going to put the screws to Nell for something.”
Son of a bitch. The irony of his hating Tim for being lousy to Nell was not lost on Gabe, but being angry with somebody else felt really good, so he ignored it.
“I definitely need a beer,” he said.
Chapter Sixteen
Suze followed Nell into the restaurant, ready to watch her back. Tim and Whitney were already there, holding hands on one of the benches that divided the restaurant down the middle, and Nell took a chair across from Tim, leaving Suze to stare down the latest Mrs. Dysart. She was a pretty little thing, but her jaw was tense, and she stared at Nell as if she were the Antichrist.
“I’m really glad you could meet us,” Tim said, doing his best insurance salesman impression, and Nell nodded. “There are a few things we need to get cleared up, nothing major, then we can all relax and have a nice dinner.”
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