No Reservations Required (12 page)

20

Chris arrived home just after six. She knew Phil would be pissed if she didn’t have something on the table, but she didn’t care. Without time to think about what she wanted to say—and how to say it— she might ruin everything. She was hurt and angry, but she still loved him with all her heart. She’d come to the conclusion that there might be an explanation for what she’d seen. She couldn’t imagine what it was, but she owed him the benefit of the doubt. She’d been married only one day. It was inconceivable to her that her marriage was already on the rocks.

When she walked into the house, Phil called to her from the back deck.

“I’m out here.”

There was a hardness in his voice that chilled her. She moved through the living room into the kitchen and opened the sliding screen doors. Phil was sitting in the hot tub.

“Where the hell you been?” he demanded.

She sat down on the far edge of the tub. “Out.”

“Out where?”

She shrugged. “Just driving around.”

“Like hell you were. You were with your mom, right? Bet you couldn’t wait to tell her we got hitched.” His irritation faded, replaced by a grin.

“I called her, but she wasn’t home.”

“So . . .” He eyed her carefully, looking for clues. “Something’s wrong—I can tell. What is it?”

She looked down at the roiling bubbles.

“Chris?”

She still didn’t know how to say what she needed to say, how to ask the man she loved if he’d been unfaithful. “I, ah . . . I might get a job.” It just came out. But it was as good an opening as any.

“A
what
?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his frown returning. “You know I don’t want you to work.”

“No, but see, it wouldn’t be like before. I’d be testing recipes for a cookbook. I could do it at the house, totally around your schedule. It wouldn’t be a problem. And it would give me something to do. I’m bored when you’re not here.”

“Read a book. Rent some movies.”

“But I miss cooking, Phil. I’m good at it. And this would be a way for me to do it and not mess up any of our plans.”

He spread his arms across the back of the tub. Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. He watched her, his gaze full of unspoken criticism. Finally, he said, “Oh, all right. If it means that much to you.” He smiled magnanimously. “Now take off your clothes and get in. I’m lonely in here all by myself.”

Chris had a premonition. He hadn’t really given in; he was simply placating her. If she did get the job, he’d find some way to sabotage it. But why? Why didn’t he want her to do something that made her feel good about herself? She’d just have to figure out a way to explain it to him so that he understood.

When she hesitated about getting undressed, he said, “
Now
what’s wrong?”

She was a coward. She didn’t want to say what she’d prepared. “Ah, actually, you got a call this morning after you left the house.”

“Yeah? Who from?”

“A man named Del.”

“I don’t know anybody named Del.”

“He left a message. He wanted me to tell you that he knows what you’ve got stored on Old Mill Road. And that he’ll be in touch.”

Phil roared up out of the water. “Say that again?”

She was surprised by the violence of his reaction, but she repeated it anyway, hoping he’d remember she was only the messenger.

“Did he give you a phone number?”

“No.”

“That’s all he said? He didn’t say anything else?”

“He said . . . that . . . you were . . . a bad . . . man.”

Phil leapt out of the tub, grabbed his robe, and threw it on. “Damn it to hell, woman. Why didn’t you call me right away?” He slammed back the screen door and stomped into the house. “Which phone?”

“In the kitchen.” She trotted after him. “What are you doing?”

“What you should have done. Hit star 69.” He held the phone to his ear and listened. After a few seconds, he expression darkened and he threw the phone across the room. It hit the far wall and burst apart.

“What?” said Chris.

“He used a goddamn pay phone.” He turned to her, grabbing her by her arm. “What else did he say? I want it word for word.”

“You’re hurting me.” She tried to squirm away.

“Tell me!”

She’d never seen such rage in his eyes before and it terrified her. “I told you. He said he knew what you had stored on Old Mill Road. That you were a bad man. And that he’d be in touch.”

“You’re leaving something out.”

“No . . . no, I’m not.”

He struck her hard in the face with the back of his hand.

“Phil,” she gasped.

When he let her go, she crumpled into a chair. She couldn’t believe what he’d just done. It took her a minute to absorb the shock of the blow. When she finally looked up, she saw that he’d walked over to the screen doors and was standing, looking out at the hot tub. She wanted to ask him what it all meant, why he was so upset, but she was afraid to say anything, afraid she’d set him off again. She touched her eye, felt the puffiness and the bruise. “God, Phil.” She started to cry.

He turned around. “Chris, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please, I didn’t mean it.” The next second he was kneeling next to her, wrapping his arms around her. “Let me see your eye.”

She looked away.

“Chris, you’ve got to forgive me. That call, it just made me crazy for a second.”

“Who is he? What’s going on?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, sweetheart. Don’t worry. God, look what I did.” He touched her face. “Let me get you a cold washcloth.”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Chrissy, you have to understand. This has been a horrible day. I called my exes to tell them I’d remarried and they both went ballistic all over me. And then, hell, I find out my best project manager has been stealing me blind. For months. I had to fire him on the spot. It couldn’t be worse timing. I’ll have to pick up the slack until I can hire someone new, and that means more hours at work, less time with you. Honey, please say you forgive me. It will never ever happen again.”

She didn’t move. She wanted to believe him.

“Just promise me one thing. If that guy ever calls again, you tell me right away. If I’m not home, call me on my cell. It’s
very
important, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Chris, I love you. More than anything in this world.”

“Do you?”

“How can I make it up to you? Just tell me.” He stood up and pulled her into his arms.

She couldn’t relax. Her body felt tight, unyielding.

Phil stood back, held her by her shoulders. “You’re afraid of me.”

“A little,” she managed.

“Don’t be, please. Oh, please,” he pleaded. “Don’t be.”

“It’s . . . all about trust, isn’t it, Phil?”

He let go. “Come on outside. You need to unwind in the tub. I’ll rub your back, just the way you like.” Without waiting for her, he opened the screen, took off his robe, and climbed back in. “Come on, honey. Why don’t you pour us each a glass of single malt.”

Feeling like a zombie, she moved to the shelf where they kept the bottle, took it down, and poured them each a stiff drink. To steady her nerves, she tossed hers back, then poured herself a second.

Once out on the deck, she handed a glass to Phil.

“Are you going to come in?”

“I don’t know.” She stood looking down at him.

“Chrissy, you’re my whole world.”

“Am I?”

“Absolutely.”

Inside, she began to shiver. “I went out to lunch with Bram Baldric this afternoon.”

“Baldric? What the hell were you doing with him?”

“He’s a friend. A good friend. He took me to the Speakeasy Cafe.”

Now it was Phil’s turn to be silent.

“I saw you with that woman, saw you kiss her. Do you love her, too, Phil?” She was taking a big chance. If he’d hit her once, he could hit her again. But she had to know the truth, had to stand her ground. “Who is she?”

“Just . . . somebody I used to date.”

“
Used
to date? Seems to me you still do.”

He shook his head—and kept on shaking it. “I never meant for you to see that.”

She took another swallow of the Scotch. The liquid burned her throat, warmed her deep inside.

“Okay,” he said, brushing a shock of gray fringe off his forehead. “So I was with her this afternoon. But I had to tell her about us, didn’t I? About our marriage. And I wanted to do it in person. I care about her, Chris. But I don’t love her, not like I do you. We had lunch. I thought, hell, why ruin a good meal? But then, when we were done, we went back to her house and I told her that I’d gotten married and we had to call it quits.”

“Were you sleeping with her while I was living with you?”

“No. Never. Not once. I stopped right after you moved in. But I still saw her every now and then. It was casual, just friends. Lunch, or coffee. That’s all. I swear it. Maybe she thought the relationship was headed somewhere else, but I never did.”

“What’s her name?”

“Barbara Kerwin. My company built an addition on her place, a bedroom, a few years back.”

How convenient, thought Chris. But she didn’t say it.

“You have no right to judge me, you know. You were out with Baldric. So what was all that about?”

“He’s a happily married man, Phil. He promised to introduce me to Victoria Svensvold, the woman who might give me a job testing recipes.”

“Never heard of her.”

“She’s very famous, writes cookbooks. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Meaning I’ve lied to you?” He spread his arms across the back of the tub again. “You know, Christine, don’t get all hot and bothered on me now, but you could learn something from Barbara. She really knows how to take care of herself. She understands fashion and she looks damn hot for a woman her age. If you ask me, you could spruce up a little, go find yourself something to wear other than jeans and tank tops.”

Chris was dumbfounded. “You never said before you didn’t like the way I dressed.”

“Well, I’m saying it now. As of yesterday, you’re my wife. That gives you status in this town. Act like it. Do you think I enjoy walking around with a woman who looks like she’s just come from a Grateful Dead concert? Go to a hairdresser and get your hair styled. Get someone to help you with your makeup. Buy yourself some new clothes.
Dresses.
I don’t care what it costs. I want you to look good. Sexy. I want other guys drooling over you. Are we clear?”

She didn’t know what to say. Suddenly, this was no longer about him; it was about her. Her shortcomings. He’d succeeded in making her feel small, ugly, diminished. In an attempt to hold back tears, she tilted her head away and shut her eyes.

She felt him move to the seat closest to her. When he touched her, she pressed her lips together and looked down at him. “If I’m such a loser, you shouldn’t have married me.”

“Oh, honey. Don’t look so sad. You’re the one who love movies, right? So look at it this way: I’m Henry Higgins and you’re Liza Doolittle. Do what I tell you and everything will work out just fine—like a true movie romance.”

In the last few hours, Chris had suddenly lost faith in the rosy picture those old movie favorites portrayed. Or maybe she’d just lost faith in Phil. But something had gone wrong in her world and she wasn’t sure it would ever be right again.

21

Anika sat across the desk from Sophie in one of the Maxfield’s comfortable club chairs. She looked tired as she crossed her legs and leaned back, trying to get comfortable. She was dressed casually in khaki chinos and a mulberry V-neck sweater. Sophie wondered if Anika had lost weight. She seemed even thinner than usual—and usual was just a shade this side of skinny.

As they talked, Anika pulled absently on the gold chain around her neck.

“I saw Andy this morning,” said Sophie. “He spoke to a full house at the
Times Register.
All the employees. I think it was a good move. How’s he doing? I can imagine he feels pretty overwhelmed at the moment.”

Anika abandoned the necklace and moved on to examine a piece of lint attached to her sweater. “He’s up and down. To be honest, it’s been a rough year, Sophie. For both of us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah. Well. Whoever said this life was easy . . .” She laughed, but her face didn’t register any amusement.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Anika folded her hands in her lap. “You’re a good friend. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know what it would be.”

“I assume that since you and Andy inherited Bob’s estate, you’ll probably want to quit your job here at the hotel.”

“No,” said Anika, looking startled. “That’s not what I want at all.”

“Well, I just thought—”

“I need this job. I intend to be back at the beginning of next week, just like we planned.”

Sophie was baffled and couldn’t help showing it.

“Work is important to me,” said Anika. “I love my job here at the Maxfield. It’s even more important to me now.”

Sophie couldn’t imagine why. The entire world was open to Anika now. She could buy her own hotel if she wanted to.

“I need to be . . . self-supporting.”

“You do?”

She bowed her head. “The thing is . . .” She hesitated, then plunged in. “I’ve been thinking of asking Andy for a divorce.”

Sophie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I had no idea.”

“No. Nobody does. But then nobody’s lived through the last year with us. It hasn’t been pretty.”

“Have you talked to Andy yet?”

“No. I can’t, not right now. He’s been hit with so much. But as soon as he gets on his feet, I intend to move out.”

“Anika, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.” Her mouth quivered and her face reddened as she pressed her lips together to stop herself from crying. “The worst part of it is, I still love him. I just can’t live like this anymore.”

Sophie waited while Anika pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes.

“He’s . . . so up and down. So restless. He has terrible insomnia. Sometimes, we don’t talk for days. I’m not sure he even notices. And then, out of the blue, he’s on a high. Feeling great. It’s like living with two men. Or three . . . or four. I never know who’s going to come home at night.”

“Maybe he needs to see a psychotherapist.”

“He’s talked to several. But nothing seems to help.”

Sophie had to choose her words carefully. Hearing this only made her want to confront Anika all the more. “Look, it’s not my intent to upset you, but Andy said something to me this morning that kind of threw me.”

Anika stared back, her expression tightening.

“He said that the night Bob and Ken Loy were murdered, he was with you all evening.”

Anika closed her eyes. “Yes, I see. And you know that isn’t true because you saw me at the Rookery Club.”

“You were trying to find him.”

Anika nodded.

“So you two couldn’t have been together that whole evening.”

She gave her head a tight shake, then opened her eyes wide. “You have to understand, Sophie. Andy didn’t murder anyone. He couldn’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt you or your husband in any way,” said Sophie, “but this puts me in an awkward position. If the police should ask me about that night, I’d have to tell them the truth.”

“But why would they ask?” said Anika, leaning toward the desk. “You weren’t involved. You’d never even met Ken Loy. And as far as Bob goes, Andy loved his brother. More than that. He idolized him.”

Sophie wondered if Anika wasn’t protesting too much.

“Listen to me, Sophie. Please. Just let me explain.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“But I need you to understand. Andy’s been ill for almost a year. It’s more complex than what I just told you. He’s seen doctors, but they can’t seem to figure out what’s wrong. The night Bob died, I was supposed to meet Andy at the Lyme House in Minneapolis for dinner. When he didn’t show—and when he didn’t answer his cell phone—I wondered if we’d gotten our signals crossed. We eat at the Lyme House fairly often. Our other favorite spot is the Rookery Club. I called over to see if Andy was there. They said he wasn’t, but I was upset. I needed to do
something
to find him, so I drove over. That’s when I ran into you. By then, I was pretty angry. I thought he’d stood me up again.”

“Again? He’s done it before?”

“If he gets involved in his work at the paper, sometimes he loses track of time. And he’s terrible about turning off his cell phone and forgetting to turn it back on. He just doesn’t think.”

“Did you call the paper?”

“Sure. That was the first place I called. He wasn’t there. After I got done talking to you, I started to get frightened that he’d had another one of his spells. Maybe he’d been in a car accident.”

“Spells?”

“He gets dizzy. Nauseated. And on top of that, he’s been incredibly depressed for months.”

Sophie wondered if the depression didn’t have something to do with what had been happening at the paper—the Del Irazarian business. But dizziness and nausea? That sounded physical.

“About six weeks ago, Andy had this excruciating muscle and bone pain. He couldn’t get out of bed. That’s when he started having panic attacks. And his body would get very cold. I could see the goose bumps on his skin.”

“And the doctors couldn’t diagnose it?”

She shook her head. “Andy was desperate. And then, as fast as it came on, it all went away. He’s been fine ever since. Oh, he was still restless and depressed, perhaps more than normal, but he wasn’t in pain. And then, the night Bob died, it hit again. I drove home after I saw you at the Rookery. I found Andy on the living room couch. He’d been vomiting and his whole body was shaking. He was sweating, but he had terrible chills. He drank some brandy to warm himself up, but he couldn’t keep it down. He said he’d been like that for hours.”

“Did he have a fever?”

“No. That’s the funny part. You’d think, with those symptoms, that it was the flu. But I took his temperature and it was normal. He was in terrible agony, Sophie. He couldn’t have been out murdering two men. He could barely stand up.”

Or, thought Sophie, he was having a violent physical reaction to what he’d just done.

“Why didn’t he call you?”

Again, Anika looked away. “I don’t know. But I thought he might die that night, Sophie. He wouldn’t let me call for help. He said that doctors didn’t know anything, and by then, I had to agree with him. They hadn’t been able to help him before. He just wanted me to sit with him, to hold him. By midnight, he seemed a little better.”

“You had no idea that Bob had been shot?”

“None. Not until the police came to our apartment early Tuesday morning. Andy was in shock. I thought the news would send him into another spell, but he got through it. The police talked to us for several hours. I told them that Andy had been with me all evening. I know it was a lie, but Andy was simply too sick to have been anywhere but our living room couch.”

“What time did you get home that night?”

“Around nine. Andy said he came home straight from work. He thought it was around six.”

Sophie recalled what she’d read in the paper. Ken Loy had been shot just before eight, Bob Fabian approximately half an hour later. Andy may have been lying on the couch when Anika got home, but he could easily have done the shootings and been home by nine. For obvious reasons, Sophie wasn’t as certain of Andy’s innocence as Anika was. Did that mean she was obligated to tell the police what she knew?

“Andy made all the arrangements for the funeral,” continued Anika. “He barely survived the ordeal. When it was over, he went to bed and stayed there for several days. He’s pretty upbeat right now, but that could change any second. I hate to think I’m leaving a man who has some terrible disease, but the truth is, we’ve had a marriage in name only for almost a year. I can’t continue to live this way.” She took a deep breath, then continued. “You see why I can’t quit my job. I have no idea what the future holds for me. I don’t give a damn about Bob Fabian’s money. Andy can keep every dime of it as far as I’m concerned.”

“You need to take this one step at a time,” cautioned Sophie. “You may feel that way now, but in a year or two, you may change your mind. Andy would want to be fair.”

“I don’t care about fair, Sophie. Is it fair of me to leave a man who’s in so much trouble?”

Sophie shook her head. “I can’t answer that.”

“The thing is, I know what Andy will do. He’ll blame himself, just like he always does.” She covered her face with her hands. “How can I leave a man I still love? It kills me to watch what’s happening to him and not be able to help.”

Sophie’s heart went out to her.

Keeping her head down, Anika hugged her body and rocked slowly. Tears streamed down her cheeks. After nearly a minute, she looked up. “I shouldn’t dump this on you, Sophie.”

“I’m here for you anytime you need me. That’s what friends are for.”

Anika sniffed, wiping the tears from her face with the tissue in her hand. “We’ll be all moved in by the end of the week. That will be a load off my shoulders.”

“Moved in where?” asked Sophie.

“Didn’t I tell you? Andy insisted we move into Bob’s place. I can’t imagine anything more ghoulish, but Andy doesn’t see it that way. He’s got an old friend coming to visit on Friday and I get the feeling he wants to impress him with his newfound wealth.”

“That’s not like Andy.”

Anika shook her head, then shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know him anymore. The really sad thing is, Sophie, maybe I never did.”