Throw a Double for Spite

by Cherie Mitchell

  Colin’s eyes bulged nearly all the way out of his head. “Pardon?”

  Riley dropped her eyes and twisted her fingers together in her lap. She should have kept that to herself. Why did the maiden all forlorn destroy the house that Jack built? “Paul told me about the affair,” she whispered.

  Colin slammed his hand down on the desk and Riley squealed in fright.

  “Sorry, sorry.” Colin twisted his face into an apologetic grimace and raised both hands in supplication. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have done that. There was never an affair. I’ve never so much as glanced at Marjory while thinking improper thoughts. I’m very happily married and as far as I’m aware, Angus and Marjory are too. Paul’s illness has of course resulted in a certain amount of strain on their relationship but they’ve both held up remarkably well considering all that life has thrown at them. Are you ok?”

  “I’m ok.” Riley took a hurried sip from her water glass. “I appreciate you sharing your insight with me. It’s unfortunate that we’ve never had a real chance to talk before now.”

  Colin pulled at his shirt collar, as if he were trying to relieve the pressure at his throat. “I’m a very private person. I’m also an old-fashioned man. In my era, there was a distinct demarcation line between employers and employees and I’m not sure that I’d ever be comfortable with changing my stance in that regard.”

  “I think I do want to call someone after all,” Riley said quietly, suddenly needing to be in the company of someone whom she understood, someone unflappable and in control of her emotions. “I think I’d like to call my Mom.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” Colin, now businesslike and authorative once again, pushed the phone across the desk. “Have her come in and collect you and then take the rest of the week off. There are going to be some changes coming in the company anyway, and they were in force well before this little incident occurred. We’ve had an offer from a third party to buy Smith & Gordon, and Angus and I are seriously considering it.”

  She gripped the arm of her chair. “So I’m losing my job on top of everything else?”

  “I never said that, Riley. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it, particularly given how today has collapsed in on itself. Call your mother. We can talk about this next week after some of the smoke has cleared.”

  Riley nodded and stood up on unsteady legs. “I’ll go back to my desk and call her now. Thank you.”

  She walked through the empty office to her desk. Colin had sent Lucy, Heather, and Michael home directly after Paul’s departure but he had taken her aside after noticing how shaken up she still was. She forced herself not to look at the smear of blood on Angus’s office window. Hopefully Paul would get the care and attention that he needed and this whole nasty business could be put behind them, although she had no wish to ever see or speak to Paul again. Perhaps the sale of the business would be the best option after all.

  She went to turn off her computer but stopped, gazing at the screensaver. Paul had used the small hints he’d gathered about her personality and interests against her. He’d pretended he was a stranger with the same hobbies as she had. She hurriedly replaced the screensaver with the standard Windows image of a single tree on a hill before opening her drawer to get her phone.

  The notification light was flashing and she pushed the side button. She stared with a combination of horror and outrage at the message from Unknown Caller, sent before Paul arrived at the office this morning.

  ‘Good morning, beautiful Riley. Are you ready for whatever surprises this new day might hold? Jack x’

  Feeling the bile rise up in her throat and threatening to overwhelm her, she hurriedly deleted the message and blocked Jack’s number before dialing her mother.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “You dropped this, Mrs. Wong. You can’t afford to lose one of your gloves, not when the weather is turning so cold. Winter is almost here and you have to take care of yourself.” Riley stooped to pick up a feminine black faux leather, mock fur-trimmed glove from the carpet outside her apartment. She held it out to the elderly woman, who nodded and smiled from beneath her hand knitted beanie as she took it. She adjusted her cheap striped nylon scarf, another dollar store purchase, and dropped the glove into her string bag alongside its companion and a loaf of no-brand bread before hobbling away.

  Riley let herself into her quiet apartment, mulling over the events of the past few hours. She had spent the afternoon at Ruth’s house and she was now feeling a thousand times better than she had done when she left the office. Ruth had been astonishingly supportive, ditching her plans for the day and catching an Uber directly to Smith & Gordon in order to drive Riley back to the brownstone in her own car when Riley said she didn’t feel up to going straight home. Ruth had listened and commiserated with everything Riley had told her, starting with Briar’s lies and finishing with Paul’s descent into crazy, deranged stalker, which was another surprise. For the first time in a very long while, Riley felt as if her mother was firmly on her side.

  Bill had phoned Ruth to update her on his treatment process while Riley was there and when her mother passed over the phone, she’d chatted lightly but hadn’t disclosed anything that might upset him. From what she’d gleaned from their conversation, he appeared happy enough with Lorraine’s ongoing professional support and even better, he hadn’t mentioned Jacqui once.

  Riley had stayed at Ruth’s house for long enough to enjoy an early dinner, which was thankfully a delivery from a local restaurant after they made the mutual decision to order in, but she had refused her mother’s offer to stay over. She was calmer now and able to view the day’s events in a more positive light. Paul’s duplicitous masquerade had ended, he was getting the help he so sorely needed, and his twisted lies had been revealed for what they were. Everyone was safe. Perhaps now her life could start to return to normal but one thing was for certain – she had no intention of ever again looking for a romantic partner via any other means than a good, old-fashioned face-to-face arrangement. She allowed herself a tiny smile at the thought. Maybe she should allow her parents to choose a husband for her? They themselves were getting on better than they had done in years, their newfound closeness hastened by Bill’s cancer diagnosis. They certainly seemed to have a better understanding of relationships than she did, even if they had taken a circular, obstacle-strewn route to get there.

  She took a long shower, standing under the rush of hot water and allowing some of the tension to ease from her shoulders. Afterwards, now changed into a comfy pair of pajamas and a fluffy dressing gown, she made herself a cup of cocoa and retreated to the sofa to watch the evening news. The Condo Killer was still the headline story, complete with the original generic identikit photo. Riley watched as the reporter interviewed a tense young woman under a bank of yellow and rust-colored trees. The girl kept pushing strands of her hair back off her face and autumn leaves spun down around her as she explained to the camera how she had called the police in the early hours of the morning to report a suspicious person dressed in black whom she’d seen loitering outside.

  Riley’s phone rang from the kitchen counter. She answered Megan’s call as she walked back to the sofa, her eyes on the final few minutes of the news item. “Hey you.”

  “You said you’d call me today,” Megan said coldly.

  Riley didn’t attempt to keep the anger out of her voice. “Do you have any idea of what I’ve been through today?”

  “How could I possibly know? You didn’t bother to call.”

  “You have a phone – you could have called me.” She tipped her head back against the headrest and stared helplessly up at the ceiling. “Are we going to argue again? I don’t think I can deal with this tonight.”

  “What happened today? Let me guess... has Briar pulled you into another one of her little dramas?”

  “It had nothing to do with Briar. I haven’t spoken to Briar since the day at the construction site.” She was suddenly exhausted, unsure if she wanted to
continue this conversation right now. “It was a horrible day.” The news item on the Condo Killer was wrapping up with the standard shot of the pile of black clothes and the killer’s supposed crime kit. “Jack turned out to be Paul,” she said bluntly. “He was stalking me.”

  Megan was suddenly less hostile. “Paul, the guy from your work? The one who asked you out? I told you so,” she crowed triumphantly.

  Riley frowned at the phone in her hand. “You didn’t tell me that you thought Jack was Paul.”

  “Maybe not, but I did say that he was a basement dwelling creep.”

  “Paul is ill. He has schizophrenia. He had a meltdown at work this morning and we had to call the police.” The exhaustion crept closer, threatening to pull her under. “I left work not long after that and I spent most of the rest of the day at Mom’s house. Colin said I should take the week off.”

  “Good, that means we can hang out together. Do you want to go and see that latest superhero movie on Thursday night? I can order the tickets now. It’s a new release and people will be queueing up to see it.” Her voice quickened with excitement. “I can take Friday off work and we can go out clubbing after the movie and stay out late. We can make a night of it! You can stay over here and then we can spend the day shopping on Friday. Or we can go for a hike – we haven’t been for a hike for ages and we used to do them all the time. Work has been horrendously busy for weeks now and I need a day to unwind. It’ll be fun!”

  Riley squeezed the back of her neck and massaged the tendons, feeling the tension returning. “I don’t think you’ve been listening to what I’m trying to tell you. I’ve had an absolutely terrible day, the worst day imaginable, I’m tired, and I can barely think straight. I’m not in the right frame of mind to make those kinds of plans. I have no idea how I’ll feel by Friday, on even by Thursday. I might just want to spend the day in bed with the curtains shut and a pillow over my head. Actually, that sounds perfect to me and right now, I can’t think of anything better.”

  “If it was Briar who had asked you to do something rather than me, you would have said yes without any hesitation.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Paul’s sneering voice echoed in her head. Don’t be ridiculous. As if I have the time to go out and lurk around apartment buildings. What if he did have something to do with all those awful attacks? She’d seen for herself how quickly he’d plunged into violence, switching from his regular persona to an uncontrollable lunatic in a matter of seconds. She pressed her fingers to her temple, feeling the powerful beginnings of headache throb behind her eyes. “I have to go. I don’t feel so good.”

  “So now you’re going to hang up on me? What kind of friend are you?”

  “What are you talking about? Seriously, do we have to do this now?”

  “I’ve had a tough day too. Friends are supposed to support one another.”

  “Megan I just can’t, ok? I just can’t continue with this conversation now. Leave it for another time.” She hung up, cutting Megan off in mid-sentence. She tossed the phone onto the coffee table and blindly reached for a cushion to place under her head. If she lay quietly, she might fall asleep for a while and the headache might fade enough to become manageable.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Riley blinked her eyes open and then hurriedly closed them again, turning her head away from the glare of the ceiling lights. The tinned noise of a TV game show played in the background but she wasn’t sure what had woken her up. She tentatively pushed herself upright, trying to decide whether her headache had gone or whether it still lingered. She swung her feet down onto the floor, moving slowly and carefully. Her mouth was dry and she felt woozy but luckily, the agonizing pounding in her temples was no longer there.

  Knuckles rapped a staccato beat on the door. “Riley! I know you’re in there. I can hear the TV.”

  She stared uncertainly at the door. Briar? Why had she come? What was she doing here?

  “I’m not leaving until you open the door.”

  Riley walked slowly to the door and unlatched the chain. She opened it by a crack and peered out. “Why are you here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you. We have nothing more to say to each other.”

  “I think we do.” Briar thrust a photograph through the narrow gap and Riley reluctantly took it. She stared down at the picture of her father, the man in the frame several years younger than he was now. He had his arm wrapped around a pretty, laughing girl with tanned, toned bare arms and a cap of glossy dark hair. Her wide grin was unmistakable in her lovely, youthful face. Riley’s brain was muddled, fuzzy with sleep, as if she was still locked into a headache-edged dream. She looked up from studying the photo and frowned at Briar. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”

  “I want to explain. Can you let me in?”

  Riley mutely stood back, holding the photo so tightly that it creased and folded in her hand. Briar slipped into the apartment, the words tumbling from her mouth before Riley had even shut the door.

  “I lost my father in horrific circumstances. Meeting Bill changed my life. He gave me hope again, a reason to live. I never intended to hurt you or your family. I was devastated when I heard about his diagnosis and it made me realize how much he still meant to me. I’d already lost him once and I didn’t want to lose him again.”

  This wasn’t a dream – it was a nightmare. “You’re Jacqui,” Riley said dully. “You replaced your father with my father.”

  “It’s not like that. I loved him. You’re trying to make it into something unsavory and dirty.”

  “I’m not trying to do anything. I’m just trying to understand your motives.” She couldn’t stop herself as a red hot rage coursed through her, shaking all remnants of drowsiness from her body. “Actually, no, I don’t mean that. It is unsavory and dirty! You seduced a married man, a man old enough to be your father when you were just a teenager!”

  Briar pressed her lips shut and did not try to deny it.

  “Did you know who I was when you made friends with me?” The familiar feeling of betrayal tightened like a noose around Riley’s throat.

  Briar nodded mutely.

  “Is it Bill’s baby?” The thought was sudden and horrifying.

  “What baby?”

  “Leonie came to see me at work. She said you were pregnant.”

  “Leonie was lying. She’s always been flexible with the truth.” Briar hooked her finger under the chain around her neck, worrying at the thin strand of gold, but she gave no other indication of nervousness.

  “How convenient. Another liar. It seems as if it might be contagious.”

  Briar slid her finger further along the chain and a diamond covered B slipped out from beneath the fabric of her shirt.

  Riley touched the pendant around her own neck as she stared at Briar’s pendant. The R suddenly felt sticky and clammy against her skin, a nasty foreign object that had no right to be there. “Did Bill give you that?” she croaked. Oddly, this hurt almost more than the realization that Briar was Bill’s lover. The idea of her father giving his illicit girlfriend the same gift as he’d chosen for her cut deep, twisting with all the painful viciousness of a dagger in her gut. She wanted to rip the chain off and throw the necklace across the room, casting it far from her sight.

  “No, I bought it for myself,” Briar said quickly. “You know that I’ve always liked yours.”

  “Bill must have bought you plenty of gifts. What fifty-year-old man wouldn’t shower his gorgeous teen lover with gifts?” All the old jealousies had returned. After Bill left, she’d spent hours agonizing over this very subject with her friends Tracey and Becks, her teenage posse of ardent supporters.

  “I was with him when he brought the necklace for your birthday,” she said, speaking so softly that Riley had to strain to hear her. “You didn’t see the look on his face when he chose it for you. It was painful for me to see. I guess I knew then that he would never love me as much as he love
d you.”

  Riley skipped over her explanation, uninterested in listening to worthless platitudes for now. “What about Matt? Your twin? Why did you tell me that he died and that it was all your fault?”

  “I blamed myself for losing him. I thought it was my fault, as kids often do. I was devastated when our parents separated us and we were no longer together. I know I was little more than a baby at the time, but I remember it.”

  Riley shook her head in wonder, temporarily lost for words. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “Of course you don’t. You’re not a twin. You have no hope of understanding it.” The scorn in Briar’s voice was potent enough to peel the paint from walls.

  “I’m not just talking about Matt. I’m talking about everything, about all the falsehoods and lies. The paintings for one, and what about your names?” Riley asked, grabbing helplessly for something, anything that might fall within her realm of understanding. “Why do both you and your brother use different names than the ones you were born with?”

  “Wouldn’t you change your name if your parents had named you Bartholomew? Every first-born male in my father’s family is traditionally given that name but no one keeps it. Matt was known by everyone as Matthew from the time of our delivery.”

  “So your father was born a Bartholomew too. What name did he use?” Riley grasped frantically at the first question that sprung to her mind, even though she did not care about the answer.

  “Carl. Carl Franklin.” Briar smiled sadly. “I loved him so much.”

  “So your parents separated when you were two and they split the pair of you apart?”

  “Yes. I went to live with our father and Matt went to live with our mother.” Briar cleared her throat. “I was always Daddy’s girl.”