Malice Times Page 24

  The diamonds would have to wait. I had to find Tom Watkins before Joshua did. There was only one person in town that might know where he would go.

  40

  The gate that led to the Dempsey mansion was wide open. There were a couple of moving vans out in front of the house. A pair of men carried a sofa through the front door with a little difficulty. I asked them where the owners of the house were. They just shrugged and went along with what they were doing. I walked through the open door. The place was a virtual mass of chaos. The servants were busy putting things in big cardboard boxes. They polished the smaller knickknacks, wrapped them in paper and packed them away. I went largely unnoticed.

  Dempsey's study was in the rear of the house. I tried to remember back to the night I saw Rae talking to him there and how stupid I had been. I walked down a hallway and opened a door on the left thinking that it must be the one, but it was only a closet. I walked further down the hall and opened another door on the left.

  The room was dark with the curtains drawn. With help from the little light coming in from the hall I could see a light switch on the right. I flipped it and a tall floor lamp came to life.

  I closed the door behind me and moved to Dempsey's desk. The servants had not been through this room yet. I opened the drawers of the desk one by one. They were all empty. I was a fool to think that Dempsey would leave anything behind to indicate where they were going.

  Next to the desk was a wastepaper basket full of crumpled paper. I sat on the floor and overturned the basket. The papers tumbled out onto the white carpet. I started to go through them. The first was an invoice about a chair delivered to the Dempsey house last month. Most of the things I went through were along those lines, useless tidbits that people hang on to for no conceivable reason, but thrown away upon moving because there was no better time to purge.

  Finally, I came to a crumpled old piece of paper. I undid it and spread it out on the floor until it started to resemble some sort of form. I lifted it up and read the tiny scrawl. It was all that I needed to know about Robert Dempsey being done with Malice Grove. Robert Dempsey was a very sick man. The tumor they had discovered had been small and the outlook had seemed pretty good, until they got inside. There was nothing that could be done. He had a year to live tops. The notes were dated two months ago. I thought back about the night Rae had gone to see her father. I thought about Rae’s unending loyalty towards him. She was just trying to protect him, so that he could die in peace. She was going to the house that night, probably because she knew he would be awake. Maybe he called her, because he needed some help. I don’t know. The only way I would find out would be to go to her and talk to her. Tell her that I was sorry and see if we could fix what I had probably irreversibly broken. There would be time for that when this was all over.

  I heard the doorknob turn and I looked up. The door swung open and an elderly butler with white hair and glasses walked in. When he saw me he stopped in his tracks.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked.

  I jumped to my feet and ran over to him. He stumbled back a few steps. I grabbed him around the shoulders. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open.

  "Where's Rae?" My face was inches from his. All of a sudden, I didn’t care about who killed my brother and Graber and Daniel. All I cared about was seeing Rae and making her realize how much I loved her.

  "She's gone. Mr. Dempsey and Ms. Cranston are gone, too," he said.

  "Where?" I asked.

  "As you may have noticed, they are leaving Malice Grove," he said.

  "No, I thought maybe you were cleaning the carpets," I said. "Where are they right now? Tell me or I might get violent."

  "They're going to Florida," he said.

  “So, they’re at the airport? Already on the flight? What?”

  “No, Mr. Dempsey thought it would be nice to sail down there.”

  "They’re taking the boat?" I asked. “One last cruise down the coast?”

  "Will you let me go about my business, Mr. Marchello. I have to have all this stuff on the moving van by tonight."

  I let him go and headed out the door. I stopped and turned back to him. He was watching me anxiously.

  "The name's March," I said. I thought the poor old guy might faint.

  ♦♦♦

  When I got to the docks the sun was beginning its descent over the horizon. The big orange globe, obscured by the clouds, slipped graciously behind the lake. Waves lapped gently against the waterlogged wood of the docks. The air smelled like fish. I loved that smell and the breeze of the great Malice Lake.

  Jimbo sat at the entrance to the docks and didn’t even bother to try to hide the look of exasperation. He must have been very happy when I bypassed him completely. I knew where Dempsey's boat was docked from being here previously and not just the day after my brother was killed. Back when I was seeing Rae, Mr. Dempsey invited me aboard his yacht many times. My father was furious and terrified at the same time. He didn't want me anywhere near the lake with Dempsey.

  The wood planks creaked underneath my feet. I walked to dock number thirteen. Rae's favorite number. She wore it when she played for the high school softball team. Dempsey changed from number five to number thirteen when Rae turned thirteen.

  A full moon hung high in the sky as the sun continued to crawl below the horizon. The smell of fish had become intermingled with the smell of gas. Dempsey's Porsche was parked diagonally. I walked carefully and slowly to the rear of the car. I crept my way around the side of the car to the driver’s side door. No one was in either the front or back seats. I poked my head into the car and the keys were still in the ignition. I took the keys from the ignition. They were warm in my hand.

  Through the windshield I saw The Donna about fifty yards out and pulling away very slowly. They didn't seem to be in much of a hurry. I moved myself quickly from the car to the edge of the dock. If Dempsey had driven another foot or two he would have taken himself and his car for a nice swim. More likely he would have crashed right into the side of his boat.

  Jumping up and down, I screamed at the boat. There were no signs of life. A single blue line wrapped around the massive white boat's hull. It crept further and further away from Malice Grove. The name DONNA in scarlet red screamed from the back of the yacht. I thought about Donna Dempsey’s funeral. My father had sent Dempsey flowers and dragged us to the funeral. He paid Dempsey, even called him Rob, his condolences. And I had met the best friend I would ever have. A little bit of good out of a huge tragedy. Maybe that’s why Rae was so willing to try to make things work with me even after all of these years and such heartbreak. Perhaps, she still wanted something good to come from that tragedy.

  A figure in a red bikini stepped to the back of the boat and looked in the direction of the dock. I waved at her. She was a speck at the back of the boat. She picked up something, held it up to her head and looked in my direction. She waved in my direction. I tried to wave her back to shore. She stopped waving. She was obscured at the rear of the boat. I wonder if she had been hoping that I would come to the docks and stop her in some kind of romantic gesture. My heart began to beat fast.

  The boat picked up speed and then a bright red flash came from within the boat. The boat seemed to expand at first, then break apart. A loud booming sound followed. It sounded like the white dotted fireworks at my father’s Fourth of July celebration. I thought I saw her bikini top blown right off of her torso, but then I realized it wasn’t just her bikini. Her body flew up and outward from the boat. The limp body floated in the air plunging hopelessly into the water.

  Wood scattered across the lake. I saw no signs of life and doubted that anyone could survive the blast. I fell to my knees. An unseen weight pushing me down. I stared out at the lake for the longest time as pieces of the yacht slowly made their way back towards the dock. Other people gathered behind me, all asking what happened. I said nothing. I couldn't get the image of her body being blown apart out of my head. I could do nothing, but st
are at the lake, hoping that what happened wasn't real. That I was just in another one of my dreams. That I would soon wake and that I could run off to save her.

  Jimbo grabbed me by the arm. "What the hell happened?"

  The question seemed far off. I searched my brain for a proper response, but came up with nothing. I felt myself staring at him blankly and shook my head. It was all I could manage.

  "What happened?" His voice seemed foreign, but I deciphered it this time.

  “They’re dead. They’re all dead," I said. It seemed the most appropriate response.

  “Jesus,” he said. “The feds are going to be all over this place.”

  I whirled around on him and grabbed him by his fat shoulders. "Talk. Who’s been hanging around here lately? Who’s been around Dempsey's boat?"

  “I didn’t see a thing.”

  I wrapped my right hand around his throat and squeezed. He struggled under my grip and started to pound on my chest. His lips turned blue and his face ashen. People tried to pull me off of him. I loosened my grip. “Tell me who was here, because next time I don’t let go until you stop breathing.”

  "Are you sure you want to know?"

  "Was it Watkins?" I asked. I knew it was. Who else was an expert in explosives?

  He just looked down at his thumbnail and started picking at it.

  "Was it Watkins?"

  He looked up at me and said, "Like I said, do you really want to know?"

  41

  The sun was gone and I sat on a thin piece of beach across the street from The Malice Times. At my feet laid an empty bottle of tequila. In my right hand was a full bottle. I went to take another slug but couldn't bring myself to do it. I stood up and walked back down to the water. For the third time in the past hour I puked.

  I looked back down at the bottle in my hand and went to throw it into the water. I stopped and took a slug. The tequila slithered down my throat like a snake. Some rolled down my chin and on to my shirt. People drink to punish themselves. I could use a little more punishing. I tossed the bottle into the surf and climbed back up the beach.

  How could I have been so stupid? I had just let Watkins off of his leash. Let him loose on Malice Grove. Rae had been blown to bits and it was my fault. I might as well have set off the bomb myself. But why? Why kill Dempsey? It didn’t make sense. Did he do it for my father? Did he think that by getting rid of his closest rival that he would protect him from Regan?

  I saw a shadow appear before me and realized it was mine. I turned my head and saw a car shining it's headlights on me. Someone got out of the car and walked down towards me. I couldn't see who it was with the glare of the headlights in my eyes. It was probably a cop who would arrest me for public intoxication. Maybe it wasn't a cop. Maybe it was someone coming to finally kill me. Maybe I was next in line of Watkins’ hit parade. I sat in mild protest.

  She approached on the right and knelt in the soft sand. Concern swept across Elizabeth's face. I laughed and shook my head.

  "No pity," I said. "Please."

  "You're drunk," she said.

  I looked up at her and laughed again. "Look who just caught up."

  She cowered away from me. "So, you're a nasty drunk."

  "Oh, I'm a peach." The image of me in a peach outfit flooded my tequila-soaked brain and I laughed uncontrollably. Then, I threw up again.

  "Come on," she said and tried helping me up after I was finished retching. I let her. She led me up the beach towards her car.

  "Rae's dead," I said.

  "I know," she said softly.

  "It's my fault," I said.

  "I know," she said again.

  I stopped and looked at her. "You don't have to agree."

  We started walking again. "I'm sorry."

  "I said no pity."

  "I know she meant a lot to you."

  “You have no idea,” I said.

  "Of course," she said and stopped by her car. She reached in and turned off the lights. She led me by the arm across the street.

  "Rae's dead and Regina has gone off somewhere. They were the only two I could trust. Everyone else lies to me like there is no tomorrow. But tomorrow is here. I knew it would come. Tomorrow always comes until it doesn’t. Now, what does everyone’s lies mean? Nothing.”

  "I know," she said.

  “Stop saying that. It’s irritating.”

  "I know." She took a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the front door of The Malice Times. She pushed it open and led me in. I started walking up the stairs, grasping the hand rail.

  “Tom Watkins will be dead soon. I wonder if Joshua has killed him yet. I hope so.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “I thought he was good, but he’s just a little boy.”

  “Why would Joshua kill Watkins?” she asked.

  “I forget,” I said. I seriously couldn’t remember. I racked my brains trying to figure out why. “Because of something. Everyone is killing everyone for something.”

  “You want everyone dead?”

  “Yes, I do. This whole town, poof, like Hiroshima. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Poof.”

  “Not everyone deserves to die.”

  "Sure, they do. Even me.”

  "Even me?”

  “You’re too pretty to die,” I said.

  “No one is too pretty to die, Joe,” she said. “Not even me.”

  “Not even Rae,” I said.

  We got to the top of the stairs and she unlocked that door. I stepped inside and walked over to my office. The door was unlocked and I soon found myself at my desk. She left me sitting there and came back with a glass of water. She handed it to me and forced me to drink.

  “But Watkins didn’t do it,” I said.

  “What are you talking about?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Joshua. He didn’t do it.”

  “What didn’t Joshua do?”

  “Not Joshua. Watkins didn’t do it. It was all a lie.”

  “A lie,” she said.

  “Yeah, Drake knows, Regan knows. It wasn’t Watkins. I wonder if Watkins knows. He probably knows now.” I laughed. “Lot of good it’ll do him.”

  “Bruce knows?”

  "I think I'll write that story now."

  "What story?"

  "About Watkins killing Dempsey and Rae.”

  “And Lynda Cranston.”

  “Who?”

  “Lynda Cranston. You know, the dragon lady.”

  “Who cares about Lynda Cranston? Nobody cares about her. Well, almost nobody.”

  Lynda Cranston. Rae was dead because of Lynda Cranston. Rage swelled inside of me. Watkins was tying up his own loose ends. Lynda Cranston. The ex-wife. Someone who knew more about Watkins than anyone else. Someone who might be able to lead someone to Watkins. Watkins was getting ready to bolt. Elizabeth was saying something.

  "You can't do that," she said. I’m not sure how many times she had said it already, but by the look on her face it had to be more than once.

  “Can’t do what?” I asked.

  “Write that story.”

  “Of course I can’t write a story. I’m not a writer. Besides I'm too tired."

  "Are you going to be all right? I have somewhere I need to be.”

  "I'm fine," I said. "Go. Try not to get blown up."

  She didn't say goodbye. As she left, I got the distinct impression I had said something that I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what. I laid my head on the desk and closed my eyes.

  ♦♦♦

  The room was shifting side to side, like a docked boat, when I woke. My stomach tossed and turned. I tried to focus on where the cuckoo clock was still pulled away from the wall. I thought about Regina. She had been Rae's best friend. I wondered if news had reached her yet and how she was handling it. I wondered if she blamed me as much as I blamed myself. Probably. Bull in Pamplona crashing through the street not caring who got in the way.

  The cold desk felt good
against my face. I wondered when the crew got around to coming to work. I laughed. What crew? I looked up at the clock, but the clock didn't tell time. I looked down at my wristwatch. The hands were a big fuzzy blur. I lifted my head from the desk and attempted to sit up in the chair. So far, so good.

  My stomach didn't appreciate what I was trying to do, but I ignored it. What is it with stomachs anyway? You feed them well, give them fluid when they ask for it, but just when you need them the most they abandon you. Ungrateful. I decided to piss my stomach off some more and stood up.

  My legs felt rubbery at first, but then they started to get some strength in them. I couldn't believe they were going to support me. I walked, or something of that sort, around the desk. I slowly approached the door. When I reached it, I put my right hand out and caught hold of the door frame. I stared at the watch on my right wrist again and made out quarter past three. It seemed like a good time to me, but no one was here.

  I closed the office door behind me. The bolt violently clicked shut when I locked it. I really thought I was going home, but I knew better now. Lucky for me Regina's desk sat a few feet away. I fell into her chair.

  From below I heard a noise. Footsteps, a very distinct shuffling sound, ran up the steps. About halfway up the person fell, lifted himself and continued to run up. I sat upright in my chair and started trying to fix my hair for some reason.

  The man hulked outside, casting his shadow through the glass door. He tried opening it, but Elizabeth had locked it on her way out. The man moved away from the door and the shadow disappeared. A loud cracking sound echoed through the empty newsroom. Glass fell as the door crumbled underneath the man's foot.

  He came into the office slowly and as quietly as possible. As if anyone in the office wouldn't have been warned by the shattering glass. He wasn't very bright, that's for sure. He looked around the dark office, not seeing me. Slung over his shoulder was a large duffel bag. In his hand was the unmistakable outline of a gun. It was a large gun. Comically large to my still tequila-soaked brain.