Stay At Home Dead (7 page)
Authors: Jeffrey Allen
15
I took my groceries home and spent the next hour picking up the house. Between the previous day and that day, I’d spent very little time at home, and it showed. Carly’s toys were spread throughout the house, the sink was filled with dishes, and the laundry was spilling out of the closets. I got things squared away and took some chicken out of the freezer to throw on the barbecue for dinner.
Not the most enjoyable stuff, but better than sitting in faculty meetings or Julianne’s depositions.
I lay down on the sofa and dialed Julianne’s office.
“Julianne Winters’s office,” a cheerful, female voice said.
“Hi, Melissa. It’s Deuce.”
The line buzzed for a moment. “Actually, this is Kathy.”
By all accounts, Julianne is an excellent attorney. Professional, well thought of and, most importantly, almost always victorious. She is, however, quite possibly the world’s worst boss. Overly demanding, forgetful and, as one former assistant described her, loony tunes. Her assistants rarely made it six months before slinking away. I wanted to have a turnstile delivered to her office, but I hadn’t been able to find one on the Internet yet.
“Oh. Hi, Kathy,” I said. “This is Julianne’s husband.”
“Oh, hello!” she said, mustering up the enthusiasm I heard from every one of Julianne’s assistants when they were first starting out. “Ms. Winters was just telling me about you.”
“Lies. She lies compulsively.”
Awkward silence.
“Kathy, I’m kidding.”
“Oh. Oh. Right,” she said. I pictured her holding the phone away from her head and staring at it like it had just spit in her ear. “Let me see if she’s available.”
“Thanks.”
It was just a guess on my part, but if she didn’t get my lame humor, she would not be long for the job as Ms. Winters’s assistant.
“Hey, babe,” Julianne said.
“Hey. Breaking in a new one today?”
“She’s been here for two days, and she’s doing a nice job.”
“So she’s got what? Maybe just a couple more days left?”
“For someone who doesn’t have a job, I’d expect you’d have more time to work on your stand-up routine,” she said. “What’s going on? How was your morning?”
“Fine. Quiet,” I lied.
“Really? How did Shayna look?”
I sat down on the sofa again.
“Your mother called a while ago,” she said, sounding pleased. “Spill it.”
I ran down my visit to Shayna’s and, just so I wouldn’t feel guilty, told her about going to Land O’ Rugs.
The line buzzed for a moment when I finished.
“Hold on,” Julianne finally said.
I was getting the distinct impression I was busted.
“Had to shut my door,” Julianne said when she came back on the line. “I didn’t want anyone to hear me call you an idiot.”
Yes. Definitely busted.
“I want you to think about a couple of things,” she said, her tone measured. “They found Benny in our van yesterday. Automatically makes you a person of interest. Whatever. That’s fine. But you’re making it worse.”
I felt the donkey ears sprouting out of my skull. “But then you go see Shayna, the dead guy’s widow—and, uh, your ex-girlfriend... .”
“That was twenty years ago, Jules.”
“And then you show up at the guy’s place of employment ?” She cleared her throat. “I’m neither a detective nor a criminal defense attorney, but I don’t need to be to see the guy they’re going to peg as suspect number one. What exactly are you doing, Deuce?”
“Glad I didn’t tell you about school,” I mumbled, thinking of my confrontation with Sharon Ann.
“What happened there? Did you pull the fire alarm or something?”
“No, nothing. It’s nothing.” I sighed, properly chastised. “I’m just curious, Jules. And it seems like everyone is pointing the finger at me. But I didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly,” she said. “So don’t give them a reason to point the finger. But running around, shoving your nose into Benny’s life. How do you think that looks?”
The donkey ears grew out in full, and I felt a tail trying to force its way out of my rear end.
“All right,” I said. “I’m done. Message sent. Back to my regularly scheduled programming.”
She stayed quiet for a moment, and I knew she was trying to figure out if I was serious or not.
“Julianne,” I said. “I’m done, okay? Just got a bit weirded out. That’s all. I will consult with my attorney before making any more moves.”
“That’s better,” she said, sounding appeased. “And don’t think I’m going to let you skate on whatever happened at school today. I’ll expect a full report when I get home. Behave yourself.” She paused. “Hey, Deuce?”
“Yeah?”
“Sweetie, you ever go to your old girlfriend’s again without telling me and I’ll wreck your good knee.”
16
My parents dropped Carly back at the house, Julianne came home from work, and we ate a quick dinner so we could go for a walk while the sun was still out. Carly strapped on her Strawberry Shortcake helmet and jumped on her Dora bike with training wheels, pedaling ahead of us as we strolled the neighborhood.
“So,” Julianne said, squeezing my hand. “The WORMS are after you.”
The WORMS. Women of Rettler-Mott School. They’d been too self-absorbed to recognize their own pathetic acronym when naming themselves. Unfortunately for them, Julianne spotted it immediately.
“Yes, the WORMS are after me,” I said. “But I can handle them.”
“I should hope so. Ladies in exercise clothes aren’t that tough.”
Carly stopped and turned around. “Come on, guys. You’re slow.”
“We’ll catch up,” I said.
She shrugged, stuck her feet back on her pedals, and got going again.
“You know you’re doing a good job with her, right?” Julianne said.
“She’s a good kid.”
“I know, but you’re a good dad. I’m amazed at all the things she’s picking up,” Julianne said, watching Carly pedal. “I know a lot of that is you.”
“It’s both of us.”
“No, it’s not,” she said. “You’re the one she spends the majority of her time with. It’d be easy for you to drop her in front of the TV every day, rather than get her outside, read to her, play with her. It makes a difference.”
“I should probably try and negotiate a raise, then,” I said.
Julianne snorted. “Getting to sleep with me is like getting a bonus every day. Consider yourself lucky.”
I threw my arm around her. “Still. A little extra cash would be nice.”
“Don’t get a fat head. You still need some work on dressing her. And she enjoys burping far too much.”
“What’s wrong with the way I dress her?”
“Nothing, if her name was Carl.”
“I dress her like a girl.”
“Jeans and a T-shirt are unisex. Dresses are girly.”
“She doesn’t like dresses.”
“She would if you’d put them on her once in a while.”
“Well, it’s not my fault.”
“Why not?”
“You’ve never written ‘Put her in a dress today’ on a sticky note for me. How should I have known?”
I could tell by her expression that she wanted to give me the finger, but there were too many children in the vicinity.
We circled the block a second time as the sun dipped a little lower in the sky. Carly was complaining about being sweaty and tired, so we told her this was the last time around. By the time we reached the house, I was carrying her and Julianne was pushing the bike.
“Who’s that man?” Carly said, pointing to our home.
A guy in jeans and a long-sleeve oxford was standing at our front door. About my age, medium height, medium build. A military brush cut on top of his head.
“Help you?” I called out as we came to the bottom of the walk.
He turned around, surprised, then smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know y’all were out.”
He came down the walk, and I braced myself for whatever he was selling. Oil changes, landscaping service, religion. We got them all in our neighborhood.
“You’re Deuce, right?” he said, a look on his face that said he thought he was right, but not certain.
“That’s right.”
He produced an envelope and wedged it between Carly’s body and my chest. “You’ve been served.”
We all stood in silence, watching him walk away.
Finally, Julianne plucked the envelope from between Carly and me and opened it.
“Lemme guess,” I said. “Billy letting me know I’m being sued?”
Julianne finished reading it, then shook her head. “No. It’s a restraining order.”
“A what?”
She read it again. “A restraining order. Filed by Shayna. Against you.”
17
I got Carly in the bathtub while Julianne read over the restraining order.
“It’s vague,” she said, standing in the hallway, while I sat on the floor of the bathroom. “Doesn’t really give a reason as to why she filed it.”
“Doesn’t it have to?” I asked.
“No. All that matters is she got a judge to sign off on one. You can’t get within one hundred yards of her.”
I leaned back into the wall, irritation and confusion settling into my bones. Maybe some fear, too. It made no sense. I wasn’t sure Shayna was even able to remember my visit, much less take offense to it. And she called me to begin with. What could she be so upset at that she saw fit to bar me from having any contact with her?
“It doesn’t matter,” Julianne said, reading my expression. “You can’t go near her to find out what’s going on. We’ll figure it out, but you cannot go near her. Hear me?”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I know that.”
“But now I’m the bad guy.”
“You’re not a bad guy, Daddy,” Carly said, her eyes peeking over the tub.
I smiled at her.
“Look, you aren’t the bad guy, but if you wanna feel sorry for yourself and mope, be my guest,” Julianne said. “The only thing I care about is making sure your butt stays at least a football field away from her. That should honestly be a rule in our house, anyway. We don’t need a restraining order to abide by it. Understand?”
The water made a gurgling noise, and I looked into the tub. Carly was sliding around the empty tub like a fish out of water.
She looked up at me and smiled, her wet hair plastered to her forehead. “I let the water out.”
“Yeah, you did. Let’s get you dried off.”
As I toweled her off, put her pajamas on, and brushed out her hair, I racked my brain for something I might’ve missed at Shayna’s. And the only thing I could come up with was that someone was messing with me.
And I didn’t like being messed with.
Carly hugged Julianne good night, and I took her into her bedroom. As I read her her story, I could hear Julianne’s voice downstairs on the phone. When I finished the story, I put it back on the bookshelf and pulled the sheets up to Carly’s chin.
“You’re a good daddy,” she said, grinning at me.
I kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks. You’re a good kid.”
She nodded, as if she’d heard that a million times. “I know.”
I told her good night and turned off her light. I put away a few of her stray toys in the loft play area, made sure there were no monsters hiding in the two upstairs guest rooms, and headed downstairs to our room. Julianne was stretched out on the bed, the phone on her stomach, her eyes closed.
“Who were you talking to?” I said.
Her eyes opened slowly. “Hmmm?”
“You asleep?”
“Was.” She rubbed her eyes and sat up. “Just exhausted.”
I walked into the bathroom, feeling guilty. Not only was she working a job that required her full attention, but now I was forcing her to worry about me. If I needed a reason to back off of everything, I had it. But it was difficult to leave something alone that felt as if it had the power to upend my life.
I brushed my teeth and joined her on the bed. Her eyes were closed again, but they opened when I hit the bed.
“Who were you talking to?” I asked, taking the phone off her stomach.
She sat up again and sighed. “I called Sonya Luna. She’s an attorney over in Fort Worth I know. She knows more about this stuff than I do. Told her what was going on with you.”
The fact that she felt the need to call another attorney made the hair on my arms stand up. “You know I was kidding yesterday, when I said I needed an attorney, right?”
“Yesterday you hadn’t been served with a restraining order.” She yawned. “Anyway, I just wanted to touch base with her. In case we need her.”
“Why would we need her?”
Julianne shook her head, irritated, and pushed herself off the bed and headed to the bathroom. “You know why, Deuce. I explained it to you earlier, and I’m too tired to do it again.”
I lay in bed and stewed, alternating between anger and frustration. Anger because I really didn’t think I had done anything wrong, frustration because I was causing my wife unnecessary headaches.
She emerged from the bathroom, face washed, teeth brushed, wearing her Longhorns shirt and shorts. She crawled under the covers and looked at me with sleepy eyes. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
I clasped my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling. “You didn’t snap. It’s all right.”
“I just wanted to check in with her and let her know what was going on.” She yawned again and wiggled under the covers. “She’s good. If we need her.”
I had to admit that hearing that Julianne felt the need to call another attorney worried me. I think I had chalked up Benny’s body, Billy’s visit, Shayna’s tears, and the rug store to just the usual goofiness that pulsed through Rose Petal. But I had missed entirely the seriousness of the situation and how I had made it worse. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
“Sorry, Jules,” I said, still staring at the ceiling. “I’ve been a moron. I’ll get my act together. I didn’t mean for this to be something you had to worry about.”
I waited for her response, but she didn’t say anything.
I turned and looked at her.
She wasn’t too worried, apparently.
She was snoring right in my face.
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