The cops.
When they came to deliver the bad news about the Lincoln, they were surprised to find its owner alive and well. They grilled us on more than one occasion, but everyone—including Doug—remembered his or her rehearsed lines. The police backed off after a couple of days.
We were home free, but not unscathed.
It would take a long time—maybe forever—for me to come to terms with what that bitch made me do to Grace. That poor young woman deserved so much more from life, and because of Krista I took everything away from her.
Everything.
Richard held a glossy pamphlet at arm’s length, comparing the photo with a lesser version sitting before him. “I like this one, but Brenda would hate the color.”
“You can’t have that,” I agreed.
He frowned. “Have you got something against German engineering?”
“Not a bit. These are probably the safest cars in the world. And nothing will be too good for Betsy Ruth.”
His brow wrinkled. “How did you know?”
“The baby’s name? I offered to tell you weeks ago.”
“But we only decided last night.”
“I could have saved you a lot of time.”
He frowned. “Then what’s bothering you?”
“Okay, I admit it—I loved that old silver boat of yours. I was hoping that when you got sick of it I could buy it off you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
He was quiet for a moment. I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind.
“Brenda and I never did give you a birthday present. There’s a Lincoln dealership next door. We can go right over—you can pick what you want.”
I shook my head.
“It would give me pleasure to do it,” Richard tried again.
I turned to face him, my gut tightening with a remorse I knew too well. “Don’t you get it? It would make me even more indebted to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He sounded hurt.
“I owe you my life—and more—how many times over? And then there’s—” I cut myself off. A week later, I still wasn’t sure I could face, let alone express, just what it was that had been eating at me.
Richard waited for an explanation.
I took a breath to calm myself. “At Timberly’s command, I fired a gun at you.”
“It was empty,” he protested, annoyed.
“I’m not sure I knew that at the time.”
“I did. I saw you unload it.”
I looked away.
“Besides,” Richard tried again, “if you thought for one second that gun was loaded, you wouldn’t have pulled the trigger.”
“That’s just it, I didn’t stop to think. I just did what Timberly told me to do.”
“But you were faking it,” he insisted. “You—”
I shook my head. “Not at first. When Timberly said that word, I was sucked back into the darkness.”
Richard sobered. His gaze seemed focused on the car in front of him, but I’m not sure he saw it. “If we’re comparing guilts, Brenda was right. You could’ve died when you took those pills. Any doctor worth his salt would’ve called an ambulance. I should have—”
“If it was anyone but me, you would have. You did what was right for me. It wasn’t my idea to pull that asshole stunt. The last thing I’d want is a documented suicide attempt trailing me for the rest of my life. Uh-uh, you kept my credibility intact.”
We glared at each other for a long moment.
“Then I guess that makes us even,” Richard said.
No, but I was more than willing to drop it.
Forever.
Richard looked down at his brochure. “I still owe you a birthday present.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I repeated. What part of ‘no’ didn’t he understand?
“How about Brenda and I take you and Maggie out for a nice dinner?”
“I don’t know. We’re not exactly back together yet. We’re still . . . negotiating.”
We would get back together again. I knew it, but Maggie was still smarting from betraying me . . . from being betrayed by Doug. She was fragile and afraid to trust—herself, and me. We had a rocky road ahead of us, but ultimately we would be together again—in mind and in spirit. It would just take time.
“There must be something I can do for you,” Richard said.
I studied his earnest blue eyes. It
would
please him to do something for me.
“Let’s go seal the deal on your new car, then hit Premier Liquor and buy some pâté, crackers, and the best bottle of single malt they’ve got. What do you say?”
The corners of Richard’s mustache quirked upward. “That sounds like a plan.”
The immensely popular Booktown Mystery series is what put
Lorraine Bartlett’s pen name Lorna Barrett on the New York Times Bestseller list, but it’s her talent -- whether writing as Lorna, or L.L. Bartlett, or Lorraine Bartlett -- that keeps her there. This multi-published, Agatha-nominated author pens the exciting Jeff Resnick Mysteries as well as the acclaimed Victoria Square Mystery series, and now the Tales of Telenia saga, and has many short stories and novellas to her name(s). Check out the links to all her works here:
http://www.lorrainebartlett.com
(You can also find her on Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter.)
Also by
L.L. Bartlett
The Jeff Resnick Mysteries
A Leap of Faith (2013)
Short Stories
:
When The Spirit Moves You
(A Jeff Resnick novelette)
Bah! Humbug
(A Jeff Resnick story)
Cold Case–A Jeff Resnick Story
Writing as Lorraine Bartlett
The Victoria Square Mysteries
Recipes To Die For:
A Victoria Square Cookbooks
Tales of Telenia
(fantasy)
Short Stories
:
Writing as Lorna Barrett
The Booktown Mysteries
Book Clubbed (2014)