The Mirror and the Mask (9 page)

 

 

 

W
hen Jack left the house around eleven thirty, Susan breathed easily for the first time that day. Who knew that fear could be so physically exhausting? She desperately wanted to text Kristjan, but before they'd said their good-byes, they'd promised not to contact each other again. From now on, they had to be scrupulously circumspect. No being alone together until it was over. And even then, they would need to be extracareful if they were going to pull off a murder without getting caught.

Susan spent the rest of the day on the computer in her study. It was her favorite room in the house because it was her retreat, where she could shut the door and lock out the world. She read industry magazines, looked at sales boards, called clients, tried every way she knew to bury herself in work. But all she could think about was how she and Kristjan would accomplish the murder. She made a few notes, worked out a plan that seemed to have promise. But then, feeling frightened, she burned the pages in a crystal ashtray on her desk.

She left her study around four to spend a few minutes in the
kitchen getting dinner in the oven. Just a simple roast and vegetables. Tuesday nights were family nights at the Bowman house. That usually meant dinner together, but sometimes, time permitting, they might drift downstairs to the family room to watch a movie. It was hard to get everyone's schedules to match, which was why Tuesday dinner had been designated holy family time. It had been Susan's idea, but as usual, Jack had proposed it to the kids. Thus, they assumed he was the caring parent, the one who wanted to stay connected.

More often than not, it was like pulling teeth to get Jack to honor the commitment. That's why, when he called around five, saying he was running late, she assumed he was going to bail. But he surprised her. He said he'd be home as soon as possible. He asked her to hold dinner until he got there. She found the entire interaction strained but maintained a pose of sweetness and compliance. She promised they'd all be waiting for him when he returned.

Back in her office, Susan watched the light turn the snowy hills in the distance a deep twilight blue. Dinner was usually on the table by six thirty. Sunny was up in her bedroom. Curt generally arrived around six. That meant she had only a few more minutes to herself. Dreading the evening ahead, she felt her resolve begin to crumble. She'd promised Kristjan no communication, but she rationalized that she often talked to him about business matters. Pulling her cell phone out of the pocket of her wool cardigan, she tapped in his number.

He answered immediately.

“Why are you calling? I thought we said—”

“I had to hear your voice. I'm drowning over here.”

“This isn't a good time.” His voice was just above a whisper.

“Please, just—”

“My wife lost her job today. We've been . . . talking.”

She was amazed. Barbara had been working at the same place ever since Susan had known her. “Kristjan, no.”

“I haven't sold a house in four months. I've only listed three in the last six. I'm not even sure how we're going to pay this month's mortgage, let alone the bills for Anna Lisa's surgery.”

“Oh, baby, I can help you. Let me help. Please.”

“I can't talk. I've got to go.”

“Just tell me you haven't changed your mind.”

“Don't call me again.”

He sounded distracted. “But—”

Speaking more loudly now, he added, “Thanks so much for your concern, Susan. I'll tell Barbara you phoned.” He cut the line.

“Who was that?” asked Sunny.

Susan swiveled around. Her daughter was standing in the doorway. For just a moment, Susan thought she might be sick. She hadn't heard the door open. “It was Kristjan Robbe.”

“You called him ‘baby.' ”

“I did?”

“He's your employee.”

“He's not my employee, sweetheart. We're colleagues.”

“Right.”

“Sunny, you know Kristjan and I go way back. We're friends.”

Sunny was a tall girl, like her father. She also had Yale's scowl, his dark, intense eyes, and his sulky nature, although for sheer brooding ability, nobody could beat Curt. Susan had loved Yale, but he'd passed on his gloomy nature to their children, which wasn't always easy to be around.

“I don't like him,” said Sunny, scratching at a small stain on her sweatshirt.

“Why's that?”

“I don't know, I just don't. You said you hoped he doesn't change his mind. It was like you were pleading with him.”

Susan smiled at her daughter. “You see the world in such melodramatic
terms. It was just business. Nothing life or death. Come on.” She rose from her desk and reached for Sunny's hand. “Curt should be here any minute. Why don't you help me set the table.”

“If I have to,” she said with a groan.

 

Annie stood next to her car in the Lyme House parking lot and watched Dooley chow down on a goodly sized portion of stew. Once he'd licked the bowl clean, she poured him some water. And then they went for a walk.

Annie couldn't believe her string of good luck. Meeting Jane had been a godsend. Jane had even packed a couple sacks of scraps for Annie to take—“For Dooley,” she said. When Annie dug into the sacks, she found two thick beef sandwiches along with two plastic bowls of stew, to which it appeared Jane had added a bunch of extra meat. At the bottom of the sack was an extralarge foil-wrapped piece of chocolate cake. Annie was touched, but also embarrassed. Jane must have thought she was starving.

“What an incredible loser she must think I am,” she whispered to Dooley.

Even so, Annie was grateful. The sandwiches and stew—and the pay for eight more hours of work—would keep her and Dooley alive for the next few days. And it was the next few days that mattered most.

Finding a stairway that led down to the lake, Annie headed west, toward the setting sun. She needed time to think, and Dooley needed some fresh air and exercise.

A half mile or so on, she stopped at a bench and sat down. She lifted Dooley up on her lap. The lake stretched out in front of her, covered with ice and a thin coating of snow. It was all so beautiful, the chilly air, the blanket of white turning a deep purple in the growing twilight.

Annie had a lot to mull over, and yet she couldn't seem to stop herself from thinking about Jane. Annie was probably doing what
she always did—projecting, not seeing the real person. But she was pretty sure that with Jane, what you saw was what you got. She needed to find a way to give something back. Her mother always said generosity was its own reward, but that just seemed trite.

Hugging Dooley, Annie said, “We found Johnny. As soon as we're done here, we'll drive over to his house.”

This was the outcome she'd been praying for, ever since she'd walked out of the apartment in Traverse City, slamming the door in Johnny's sneering face.

“He better have some answers,” she said, stroking Dooley's fur.

If she had to bring his life crashing down around his ears to get them, she'd do it. With pleasure. Cold and quick, just the way he'd taught her. And like Johnny, without a second thought.

 

Curt sat hunched over his second glass of chardonnay, looking more morose than Susan had ever seen him. She tried to get him to open up about what was bothering him, but he deflected all her questions, saying he was just tired.

“I'm starving,” said Sunny, sitting on the other side of the dining room table from her brother.

“I promised Jack we'd wait,” said Susan.

Jack insisted that Curt and Sunny call him by his first name. He wasn't their father and said he didn't want to usurp Yale's position in their lives. He saw himself as a friend. Susan found his perspective odd, but the kids were still fairly young when they'd first started dating, so they just went with the flow.

“I've got a study date with Michael tonight,” said Sunny, playing with her water glass. “He's coming by to pick me up. I need to change first. I don't want him to think I'm a total slob.”

“Even if you are,” said Curt, finishing his wine.

“Bite me.”

Susan glanced at her watch. It was almost seven thirty. She'd set
the oven to warm an hour ago. The roast had probably turned into a piece of cardboard by now.

“I can't stick around forever, either,” said Curt.

“Let's just give him another fifteen minutes.”

“Can't we, like, have some cheese and crackers?” asked Sunny. “
Something?
”

Curt pushed back from the table. “I've got midterms this week. Tell Jack I'm sorry, but I had to take off.”

“I'm getting out the cheese,” said Sunny, following her brother into the kitchen.

Susan put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. Just another happy “family night” at the Bowmans'.

 

It was going on nine when Susan heard the back door open. She was sitting on the couch in the family room reading
TV Guide
, working on her second Manhattan. The ruined roast had been put away in the refrigerator. She hadn't been able to bring herself to eat any of it. The kids were long gone.

“Suze,” called Jack.

“I'm in the family room.” She stared at the Navaho rug, heard him thump down the stairs.

His Hawaiian shirt looked rumpled and sweaty. The light from the lamp on the end table next to her made his skin look pockmarked and ghoulish.

“Where're Sunny and Curt?”

“They left.”

His hands rose to his hips. “You promised you'd make them wait.”

“I tried, but they both had plans.”

“That's just great. Just fucking fabulous.”

“I'll fix you some dinner.”

“I'm not hungry.” He grabbed the
TV Guide
from her hands and threw it across the room.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “What was I supposed to do? Lock the doors? Handcuff them to the dining room chairs?”

“I bust my hump all day for you people and what do I get in return?”

“Jack, please.”

“
Jack, pleeeease
,” he mimicked. “I don't even know why I try.” He dumped himself in a chair across the room, buried a hand in his hair. “This day has been pure unadulterated shit.”

“You want to talk about it?”

He just sat there, glowering.

“I'll fix you a drink.”

“No.”

“Look, honey—”

“I lost two big clients today. It's this wretched economy. Why doesn't somebody do something about the banks in this country? Nobody can get their hands on a dime.” He got up, started to pace.

“Had these clients signed contracts?”

“One had. The other was pending.”

“Have you talked to your lawyer?”

“I've talked to three lawyers. You can't trust anyone anymore.” Glancing over at her, he added, “Not even your family.”

“Come on, don't be mad at the kids. They have their own lives. They're young.”

“They're selfish.”

“We're all selfish.”

“I should know better. Nobody's there when you need them.”

Jack liked to play the victim. He seemed to crave pity. She'd learned to play along, soothe his hurt feelings, but tonight she couldn't manage it. “I'm sorry you feel that way.”

He pressed the heel of his hand to his eye. “I feel like crap.”

“You're sure you don't want a drink? Might take the edge off.”

His hulking body prevented her from seeing the TV. “I know what would take the edge off,” he said.

Struggling to keep her expression neutral, she responded, “What's that?” He'd probably popped a Viagra earlier in the day and was ready for a little action. Lord, she loathed those pills.

“You and me,” he said, sitting down next to her.

She could smell his nervous sweat. “I'm not really in the mood.”

“I can take care of that.” He stroked her cheek, then moved his hand lower.

There was nothing she could do. She couldn't say no. If she pushed him away, his temper would flare again. She was trapped. She had to keep him happy. Until she could make him go away.

Forever.

 

 

 

A
nnie sat at a bar on Hennepin, nursing her second beer and watching a young man in one of the booths slam back tequila shooters. She'd spent the early part of the evening parked outside Johnny's house in Stillwater. Just after six, a red BMW had pulled into the long driveway and a young man had climbed out and gone inside. Waiting for a few minutes to make sure it was safe, she slipped out of her car and crept up to one of the first-floor windows.

The mostly glass house sat on the side of a bluff. It was modern, multiple stories. In the darkness, with lights burning inside, she watched the young man enter the kitchen and give an older woman with dyed red hair a peck on the cheek. The woman was working at an island, cutting up a green pepper for the salad she was preparing. She nodded to a wine bottle on the counter behind her and the young man poured himself a glass.