Death by Marriage (15 page)

Margot
could barely speak. “Nothing,” she said under her breath. “I just want you to
go away.”

“Why?
He’s gone now,” said Kendra. “We’re not sharing him anymore.”

“We
never shared him,” Margot burst out.

“Are
you crazy?” asked Kendra, “Of course we did.”

“He
belonged to me alone!” said Margot, her voice suddenly raising an octave. “You
had to just be something extra. He gave me the necklace, not you.”

“I
bought that necklace for myself. He stole it from my safe and gave it to you.
It’s stolen property you’re wearing.”

 “Please,
go away, I beg you,” said Margot, trembling.

“I’m
not going anywhere,” said Kendra, in a dark tone, “particularly not to jail. Paul
might have been a rotten liar, but I didn’t kill him.”

Margot
stared at her. “I want to wake up and find this was a bad dream. I want my life
back the way it was.”

“So
do I,” said Kendra, “but that isn’t happening. And it’s not a dream, is it?
Here we are, flesh and blood. Do you have any idea who killed him?”

Margot
looked aghast.  “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to.”

“Not
even you?” Kendra prodded.

Margot
looked at her disdainfully. “Of all the women he could have chosen, why in the
world would he have chosen you? I’ll never understand it. Never.  I can
understand why you’d have to buy your own jewelry, why he didn’t get it for
you. What could you have given him that I didn’t?” She seemed totally
bewildered and overwhelmed.

Suddenly,
Kendra perked up.

“I
know he married you first, but when I met him he was handsome, exciting and
told me he was single. And he couldn’t leave me alone. We spent incredibly
passionate nights together.”

Margot
put her hands over her ears, “Stop.”

“I
can’t even imagine how he could have been married then. He was totally
available.”

“He
wasn’t available,” Margot cried out. “He was married to me.

“But
what kind of marriage did you have?” Kendra was pitiless, ripping away Margot’s
memories, one by one.

“Our
marriage was quiet, loving, content,” said Margot gasping.

“It
isn’t possible,” said Kendra. “Not the way he was with me, hungry like you can’t
believe.”

“Shut
up, you’re disgusting,” said Margot.  And we had a bond that was unbreakable.
He always told me that.
You
were just something extra.”

“Far
from it!” Kendra leered. “He couldn’t do without me. Not even for a day.
Wherever he was he’d call me.”

Margot
stood up trembling. “I hate you,” she hissed.

“Sit
down, Margot,” said Cindy, trying to calm both of them.

But
Kendra wasn’t finished. She leaned towards Margot ferociously, “Did you really
love Paul? Was he good to you?”

Margot
jumped back, startled.  “I loved him very much. He was wonderful,” her voice
rose an octave. “How about you? Did you really love him? Tell me the truth!”

“I
loathed the bastard,” Kendra uttered, “and I loathe him even more now.”

Margot
gasped and so did Cindy.

At
just that moment, Cindy saw a young woman walking over towards the table,
Kendra’s daughter, Nell. Cindy was stunned to see her.

“This
is our daughter,” said Kendra as Nell grew closer. “She wanted to meet the
woman who was married to her father all these years. What do you think this is
doing to her?”

“You’re
blaming me for this?” Margot was horrified. “How do you think our son’s
feeling?”

 Nell
arrived at the table and came right up to Margot.  “Exactly when did you marry
my father?” she asked.

Margot
put her hands over her eyes, but then took them down and swiftly stood up.

“Your
father, your husband! It’s all ridiculous!  He belonged to me. He never said a
word about either of you. And I never want to see or hear anything about either
of you again!”

Then
she spun around and fled at top speed, between the tables, out of the
restaurant, like a spinning top that would never stop spinning.

 “I’m
sorry, mom,” Nell said. “That woman’s completely nuts. She’s vicious, on edge,
half crazy.  She’s got to be the one who did it.  It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Kendra
simply stood like a statue made of marble.

“Nothing
at all is obvious,” she finally said.

Abels
was working as a dishwasher in a small, greasy restaurant behind the mall.  It
was mid-afternoon when Mattheus got there and the heat of the day pressed down
on him, making it hard to breathe. By now his shirt was soaked with
perspiration, and the place was even hotter, food steaming on the grills.

“Looking
for Salmon Abels,” Mattheus said to the guy who greeted him.

“Who?”
the guy looked confused.

A
wall fan creaked as it barely managed to ground around.

“He
just started working here –” Mattheus continued. “Washing dishes.”

“Oh,”
said the guy, “Sure. One second -I’ll bring him out.”

Abels
walked out, jittery. He was younger than Mattheus had imagined, scrawny with
wild eyes. “What?” the guy asked, pissed off.

“Private
Investigator,” Mattheus said.

“What
you guys want from me now?” asked Abels.

“Just
sit down with me in the back,” said Mattheus, “it’ll only take a few minutes.

Mattheus
and Abels walked to two stools, in the back of the place, facing each other.
The slanty window high up on the wall was cranked half shut and it was hard to
breathe. Sweat poured down Mattheus’ face as he leaned in towards Salmon. Salmon’s
head hung down, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Pick
up your head and look at me,” Mattheus demanded. This could be it. He could
have the killer right here, red handed.

Abels
raised his head just a little bit. Mattheus scrutinized his round face carefully.
He was younger than Mattheus thought he would be, late thirties maybe, scrawny,
bones shaking under his skin.

“Look
up at me,” Mattheus repeated.

Abels
raised his eyes. There was a look of exhaustion. Mattheus could see he’d been
through this many times.

“Even
when you’re free, you’re not free,” Abels muttered. “They come after you like a
pack of thieves.”

“Pick
up your damn head and look at me,” Mattheus demanded. This could be it. He
could have the killer right here, red handed.

Salmon
raised his head just a little bit. Mattheus scrutinized his round face
carefully. He was younger than Mattheus thought he would be, late thirties
maybe, scrawny, bones shaking under his skin.

“You
know what you’re here for now, don’t you?” Mattheus was going for the jugular.

“No,”
Abels bit his lip.

He
was acting sassy, but he was scared, and their conversation was being recorded.
If all went well, Mattheus could get a confession from him and the case would
be closed.

“I’m
out of the clinker,” Abels said in a thin tone. “And you’re trying to throw me
back in.”

“You
got it all down pat,” Mattheus said. “Pretty smart.

Abels
smiled a crooked smile. “Could say I’m smart,” he answered. “Most people think
so. Then I got framed for a job I never did.”

 Mattheus
wasn’t getting taken in. “What did you get framed for?”

“Killing
some lady,” Salmon smirked.

“You
do it?” Mattheus asked chummy.

“No,
“said Abels. “She was a fancy dame and they needed someone to pin it on fast. 
It was just before elections. So, they found me dealing drugs in the
neighborhood. That was it. I had a record, so they jumped my bones and good.”

Mattheus
pushed his stool back slightly. “You had a pretty, damn good lawyer though,” he
prodded, taking the conversation on a different track. “You think he’d go along
with something like that?”

Abels
leaned in close to him, like they were two conspirators exchanging notes. “That
guy couldn’t stand my guts.”

Mattheus
let out a long, slow whistle. “Then why the hell did he take on the case?”

“He
had to. They told him to do it and it made him look good. That’s all he cared
about, looking good for the public. And keeping the cops happy and sweet. This
guy got plenty of passes by looking good. He didn’t give a hoot about me - let
me fall right through the hole. I’m positive that he was in cahoots with the
big boys on this one.”

 “Think
so?” Mattheus said. This could go to his motive to take Paul down.

Abels
stretched his neck upwards and rubbed his long hands over his bony face. “Yeah,
I think so. I think they’re all in cahoots. You too.”

“Not
me, Mister,” Mattheus took exception. If there was one thing he refused to do,
it was to be in cahoots with anybody. “I work on my own.”

It
didn’t seem to impress Abels, who scoffed.

“So
you got out of jail and let your lawyer have it.  Right?” Mattheus said. “Must
have felt good to get back at him?”

Salmon
looked confused. “What do you mean let him have it? I haven’t seen him since
the trial.”

Mattheus
edged closer, turned up the heat. The guy’s face was about two inches away.

“Don’t
play dumb with me,” Mattheus smirked. He had this guy locked up in his mind,
bound in chains, confessing the killing. Mattheus desperately wanted to hear
him confess.

“How
the hell could I see the lawyer?” Abels spit the words out.

“I
mean you took him down, just like you did the lady.”

At
that, Abels froze. His eyes shifted back and forth fast, as if he were trying
to grab onto an apparition floating in front of his face.

 “Wait
a minute, now.” He was getting the gist of it.

“Wait
for what?” Mattheus said. But Abels looked so confused that Mattheus suddenly
wondered if this guy even knew that Paul had been found in a pool of blood,
dead.  

“Why
should I wait another second?” Mattheus growled. “We waited long enough to get
our hands on you.  You got out of jail a couple of weeks before Paul was
killed. Everyone knew you blamed him for what happened to you.”

“Holy
Christ,” yelled Abels. “Someone killed Paul?” He started shaking bad then.

“Don’t
act like you didn’t know it,” Mattheus stood right up against him.

“What
the hell does that have to do with me?”

“You
hated the dude. He lost your case.”

Abels
laughed in Mattheus face as spittle ran down the side of his mouth. “I hate a
lot of people, Mister. It doesn’t mean I kill them.”

Mattheus
stepped back looking at the fear in his eyes. “Where were you on the first
Sunday of the month?”

“Easy.
The festival. That day I was with friends in St. Croix.  A whole bunch of
people were there. We celebrated and I went with them to a carnival that
afternoon.  Lots of people saw me there. I helped a guy in one of the booths. I’ll
give you his name.”

Mattheus
stepped back. The guy’s eyes were still darting around in his head.

“I’m
a rotten lousy critter, man, I’m a thief, I’m a bastard, but I didn’t kill
anyone. In fact, I feel awful that the dude died.”

“You
feel awful?” Mattheus was mocking him.

“Listen,”
Abels crept closer. “I noticed every day I saw him that something was bugging
this guy bad. Very bad. One day I said to him, Calm down, dude, what the hell’s
bothering you? Someone breathing down your back? He laughed in my face and said
it was worse than that. I said, oh yeah, what? He said, I’d never understand
and I was lucky I never had any kids. Something in that guy’s family was making
him crazy. Big time. I don’t know if that helps you?”

Mattheus
took a few steps away, as a slow chill went up his spine. This guy had no way
of knowing that Paul had two families, two set of kids.

Mattheus
head spun around and around. He had to breathe, step back, take it easy. It was
possible this guy didn’t do it. Could be he’d tracked down another guy that
amounted to nothing. Mattheus relented,

 “You’ll
give me the names and addresses of all the people you were with on that day,
also the booth you worked in at the carnival?”

“Definitely,”
said Salmon.

“In
an hour or two we’ll know if you’re lying. If you’re lying, man, it won’t be
good for you.”

“I’m
not lying,” Salmon said.

Mattheus
believed him, and his heart sank into his shoes.

*

 By
the time Mattheus called Cindy the alibi had already been checked. It was air
tight, he told her. Salmon hadn’t killed Paul. He hadn’t been anywhere near the
crime scene. 

Cindy
listened quietly. “This is a bummer,” she said. “The police have already
listened to Margot’s tape recording of the lunch. They heard Kendra say she’d
detested Paul.  She’s just been arrested. But before she went to jail, there
was one last thing she did.” Cindy paused, agitated.

“What?”
said Mattheus.

“She
fired both of us,” said Cindy.

“That
was stupid,” said Mattheus. “She needs us more now.”

“She
doesn’t think so,” said Cindy.

“Meet
me at the hotel,” said Mattheus.

“In
an hour,” said Cindy, sounding entirely defeated.