Antiques Roadkill (25 page)

I wandered between the various tables, looking for a place to land, wondering if it was too busy here to even find a seat, when a hand reached out and touched my sleeve.

“Brandy!”

“Oh … hi, Jennifer.”

Jennifer looked strikingly lovely in a yellow Juicy Couture mini worn over slim jeans. Her lush auburn hair was perfectly coiffed, and that doll-like porcelain complexion was to die for.

“Are you all right?” she asked, head cocked.

“Not … not really,” I admitted.

Her green eyes showed concern. “You … frankly, Brandy, you look
terrible.
Not yourself at all.”

“Lately I don’t
feel
like myself, either.” I gestured limply to the empty chair at her table for two. “Are you meeting someone?”

“Yes,” she said with a little smile. “As a matter of fact, I am—a mutual friend.”

I frowned. “Tina?”

“That’s right.”

The disappointment must have shown on my face. “I haven’t heard from her in … in ages.”

“Really?” Jennifer’s cell trilled a few bars of the
Love Story
film theme. “Excuse me, Brandy, would you? … Hello? … No, sweetie, that’s all right,
really!
… No, I can wait … ‘Kay. See ya.”

I was about to move on when Jennifer said, “Speak of the devil.”

“Tina?”

“Yes, she’s going to be late, very late, actually. Why don’t you sit down? Were you going to eat?”

“No, I just wanted something cool to drink.”

“Then you
must
join me.… Why don’t you sit down here, until she comes?”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks.” I took the chair opposite her and she beamed at me across the silk flowers.

A waitress appeared and I ordered a lemonade. Jennifer already had an iced-tea.

I said, “I … I didn’t know you and Tina were friendly. Missed that, somehow.”

She smiled again, but now it seemed less friendly, something catlike … and catty … in there. “We became kind of friendly when you were in Chicago, and this past week or so, we’ve gotten together a few times. You know, I’m not lucky, like you.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t have a sister in town. Fun having Tina around—we went shopping in the Cities yesterday, then caught a movie. Let the husbands fend for themselves, I say.”

“Yes. Right. Tina can be a lot of fun.”

“I guess you’d know that better than anyone.”

I sighed heavily. “Not so much lately. Haven’t seen her in weeks … it’s almost like … like she’s trying to avoid me.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not the case.”

I offered up a humorless smirk. “I don’t think I’ve been much fun lately. Gotten myself all caught up in all kinds of paranoid stupidity. My, uh …” I lowered my voice. “… my doctor increased my medication.”

“What are you on, dear?”

“Just Prozac, but it … it can make you kind of, you know, sluggish.”

“That’s what I hear. Might I make a suggestion? If I’m not being overly familiar …”

“Please.”

Jennifer leaned in closer, eyes and smile hovering above the fake flowers, and that smile every bit as fake. “Maybe Tina’s just, well, a little weary of hearing about your problems.… Friends need to exchange their troubles, of course, but sometimes, if one of them goes on and on and on and on … well, it can be a bit of a drag, don’t you think?”

I sat back, and I’m sure my hurt feelings showed. “She … Tina
said
as much?”

Jennifer took a sip of her iced tea, shrugged. “In so many words.”

I muttered, “I
thought
she was my best friend … and friends should support friends.… I mean, you need a sounding board sometimes, and …” I swallowed, then leaned forward, low self-esteem oozing out of my every pore. “What … oh, Jen, what
else
did Tina say?”

Jennifer raised her chin, looked down her well-formed nose at me with cold eyes. “Do you
really
want to know?”

“Yes … yes, of course.”

A short, harsh laugh. “Well, all right … if you insist.” She took a breath, expelled it. “For starters, Tina told me that you stole money from her—several times—because you were so broke. You’d get into her purse behind her back. Everyone knows you came home from Chicago unemployed.”

My eyes popped. “But I
didn’t
steal from her! I would never—”

“And she said that you
lie
all the time.”

“She … she did? I suppose I exaggerate sometimes. But, Jen, everybody does that … sometimes … right?”

“Whatever you say, dear.” She shrugged again. “These aren’t my opinions, understand—you wanted to know what Tina had been saying. Should I stop?”

“No! No, please … go on, you have to go on.”

With relish, she did: “Well, she says she never wants to go clubbing with you again.”

“Why not? We always have a wicked good time!”

“That’s just it—you’re a little too ‘wicked,’ Brandy—you have the morals of an alley cat. According to Tina, anyway.” Jennifer’s upper lip curled into an eloquent half sneer. “Of course, I already knew that.”

I drew a deep breath. Let it out. “You’ve never really forgiven me … have you, Jennifer?”

She leaned forward, spoke through a clenched-teeth smile; no one watching us would have noticed anything untoward. “You thought you could come back here to live and start over and everything would be fine … like nothing had ever happened. Never mind what you might stir up.”

“I had no intention of—”

Her eyes were as tight as a clenched fist. “Did you have any intention of starting back up with Brad?”

“I haven’t even
seen
your husband since I got back to Serenity!”

“Maybe you just hadn’t got around to it yet.”

My lemonade came, but I didn’t bother sipping it. My eyes were tearing up. “I’d never do that. That was one night, two years ago … one stupid night, one stupid mistake, and I hope you’ve forgiven him for it. I don’t suppose you’ll
ever
forgive
me.
…”

Her eyes were wild now. Somehow she kept her voice soft, but it was like a controlled scream when she said: “You have no idea, do you, of the trouble and misery you’ve caused me? That you ruined my marriage, and ruined
me.
…”

“If a one-night stand ruined your marriage, I’m not taking the blame—there must have been something wrong with that marriage already.”

Her nostrils flared, her eyes, too. “You won’t take the blame? But, Brandy …
all
the blame is yours. All the lives destroyed.…”

“What
lives?”

Her expression turned inward suddenly; for all her apparent self-control, there was a wooziness in her voice as she muttered, “People dead … your fault those people are dead.”

“My fault?
What
people?”

She was weaving as she sat there, just a little. “If you … if you hadn’t had an affair with Brad, I wouldn’t have …”

“Wouldn’t have
what,
Jennifer?”

Still weaving, ever so slightly, Jennifer regarded me with wide eyes, her expression blank but for a tiny upturning of the corners of her mouth, which suggested bitter amusement.

Finally she said, “You
should
know. You really should know what you’ve done.
I
have to live with it. You should have to live with it, too.”

“Live with what, Jen? Tell me. I deserve that much.”

A crackle of laughter. “You deserve so much more … well, why not? I think I
do
want you to know what misery you’ve sown. And, anyway, it’s not like anyone would
believe
you, if you told. Everybody in this town—
especially
the police—think you and that mother of yours belong in a loony bin.”

My eyes were locked upon hers, but my emotions were barely under control, my lower lip quivering, and a tear sliding down my cheek.

“Just
look
at you,” she said, with a contemptuous sneer. “You’re
pathetic.
Beautiful Brandy Borne—an absolute loser. A pitiful Prozac-popping would-be home wrecker.” A derisive horselike snort erupted from her. “What Brad ever saw in you I’ll never know … he must have been
drunk
at that reunion.” She gave her head and that auburn hair a toss. “I, on the other hand, am the wronged wife, respected in the community, with all the right friends … even
your
friends, now that you don’t have any.” A manic gleam came to her
green eyes. “Yes. I think I
want
you to know … I want you to know and not be able to do a goddamn fucking thing about it!”

I wiped a tear away with a knuckle. I snuffled snot, and said, “You … you killed Clint Carson and tried to blame me for it.”

She smirked. “You think?” She paused, glanced around. No one was paying us the slightest attention, the chatter and occasional laughter covering up our conversation; but at our table her ominous whispering was all too audible.

I said, “That was
you
who left the message on our answer machine—not Tanya.”

Leaning forward, upper lip curled back over tiny perfect teeth, Jennifer said, “I was there with him at his farmhouse, when I made that call—of course, he was already dead. You weren’t my first priority, Brandy, don’t compliment yourself—I just found it a fitting irony for you to take the blame, since my getting involved with Clint was, after all, your fault.”

“My
fault …?”

“Obviously! I would have never tried to even the books with Brad, by having an affair with Clint, if you hadn’t made that necessary.… I was a faithful, loyal wife before you came along and ruined everything.”

“How can you—”

“And another irony I relished? Was drugging the drug dealer. I drugged that bastard, then ‘drug’ him outside and down the lane, positioning him for you to run over.” She heaved a self-pitying sigh. “That should have worked—I didn’t factor in your crazy mother.…”

I asked, “You’d been having an affair with Carson, how long?”

Her eyebrows knit. “Longer than I intended—just to get even with Brad, at first. He was a good-looking man, and he made a kind of play for me in his shop, and I thought …
maybe if I have my own little fling, I’ll be able to put my anger at Brad behind me. And it was fun, while it lasted—he wasn’t tender, Clint, but he got the job done nicely.” She’d been smiling at that thought, but now frowned. “Then Clint wanted me to keep supplying him with information … particularly from my candy striper position at the hospital, that helped him get him leads on loads of antiques. I’m well connected, after all. I knew what patients were sick or dying or dead.”

So that’s how Carson replenished his stock.…

“When I tried to break it off, that creep threatened to expose me.” Her mouth tightened as if tasting something unpleasant. “He told me I’d have to keep him satisfied, both with ‘leads’ on antiques, and … with whatever he was in the mood for.… Well, I couldn’t have that. He had to go.” Her brow furrowed. “So do you understand, Brandy? Don’t you? How it was
all
your fault?”

“And then when I started poking around, Mother and I, you—”

“No. That wasn’t it, at first. I had to make sure that that answering machine tape was never found—my voice might still have been on there. So I sneaked in to take it, and then … well, I just had an inspired idea. On the spot. You and your mother were causing trouble, so … why not tie it all in a nice bow?”

“How did you get into our house?”

She smiled. “Doesn’t your mother
ever
lock the front door?”

Sometimes.

I asked, “And Mrs. Taylor?”

“Who?”

“The woman in my hospital room? I suppose the drain cleaner was meant for me.”

Her eyes flashed, and I’d clearly struck a nerve. “Again, your fault, your fault, your
fault!”

Her voice had risen now, and I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed; no one seemed to have.

Her upper lip tightened over her teeth. “Who but Brandy Borne would switch hospital beds with a roommate? Who ever heard of
that?
You did it to be selfish, right? What, to be closer to the toilet? You are such a selfish, selfish,
selfish
bitch.…”

I chose not to argue that point, and pressed on. “Why kill Tanya? She seemed harmless enough.…”

“Harmless?
She
was a bitch,
too—
a
blackmailing
bitch!” Jennifer was trembling now, a tiny twitch at the left corner of her mouth making her seem to smile involuntarily every few seconds. “Clint, that stupid selfish bastard, he must have told her about our affair—he was seeing her, too, and he must have bragged or, or God knows what. I
tried
not to kill her—I even gave her ten thousand dollars from my personal savings; but, no, she wanted more, or she’d tell Brad.” Jennifer shook her head and the well-controlled auburn locks landed in a wild tangle. “Did she really think a married woman could come up with fifty thousand dollars without her
husband
knowing? She was like you—selfish. Greedy … I lured her up to the second floor, and sent her back down to the basement.”

I swallowed. “Isn’t it getting a little too easy, Jen? Killing people?”

She laughed harshly. “That’s right—blame
me!
Cause and effect, Brandy, cause and effect—your fault, your fault,
your fault!
If you hadn’t slept with my husband,
none of this would have happened!”

“I apologized for that, Jennifer, and I meant it.”

“Words. What good are words?”

For the first time since I’d sat down at this table, I smiled. “Your words this afternoon? They’ll do a lot of good.”

Her sneer this time was as wild as her tangled hair. “You repeat anything that I’ve said here? I’ll deny it.”

“I figured as much. But the police are already looking at you—starting with a woman answering your description arguing with Carson at the Haven Motel, a woman with a green SUV, even if it did look brown under red light.”

She sat back and regained her poise, though the mussed-up hair took the edge off. “I’ll say you’re a liar, a poor mentally disturbed woman who is still lusting after my husband.… No one will believe you.”

“I figured as much,” I repeated. “That’s why I’m wearing a wire.”