Let’s Play Make-Believe

by James Patterson

  I couldn’t keep from glancing around the nearly empty restaurant and wondering if any of the patrons could be cops.

  Chapter 27

  It was dark by the time we left TooJay’s, and we decided to just walk around to the other side of the plaza and stop into the Palm Beach Grill for a few drinks. God knew we could use some alcohol.

  We sat at the same high-top as the night we met. The waitress, Suzie, a cute little thing I’d known since she started here, gave us an odd look. A minute later she was back with two Grey Goose vodkas with cranberry. Both doubles. Marty threw his down quickly and looked at Suzie and said, “May I have another, please.” Then he stood up and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  As soon as he was away from the table, Suzie looked at me and said, “The cops were here right when we opened. They asked about you and Marty. They asked if we saw you in here often and if you were here last night. Is everything okay?”

  “Just a misunderstanding.”

  “But you’re sure you’re okay? I mean, there’s nothing funny going on with Marty?”

  I let out a laugh. “No, he’s not holding me hostage or anything. He is a little stressed out, so if you don’t mind making his drinks a little stronger so he can relax, I’d appreciate it. We’re going to have a serious talk.”

  Suzie was a good waitress and kept the drinks coming without either of us having to ask. After a while, Marty and I shared a hamburger and nibbled at the fries. Marty had walked over to say hello to one of his clients from the island who was putting in a separate pool for his children and wanted a new patio with two enclosed rooms built around it.

  There was a TV on in the corner, and I saw a local news piece on Teal’s murder. Vero Beach was on the very edge of the local news territory, and the story had gained some interest because shootings generally didn’t occur in an upscale town like that.

  I stared at the TV, relieved Marty wasn’t at the table to see it. The pretty, young female reporter spoke in front of Teal’s cute house, and the story was interspersed with footage and earlier interviews. One of them was with a police detective who said absolutely nothing about the facts of the case other than to give the information that they had a body and no witnesses. A photo of Teal flashed on the screen. She was dressed up like she was going to a fancy party or a ball. It suddenly struck me as sad.

  The reporter said, “Anyone with any information about this horrendous crime can call Crime Stoppers or the Vero Beach Police Department.” It made me think about what had happened and how Marty had snapped so unexpectedly.

  The news story headed for its conclusion with the reporter saying, “Police are working around the clock to solve the murder of Teal Hawking. Evidence is still being analyzed, and interviews are being conducted.” Then the story ended with the police detective declaring, “We won’t stop until this case is solved.”

  Marty walked back to the table as I processed that last remark. We sat, silently watching all the rich and wannabe-rich people as they came and went through the restaurant’s door. After Marty had downed a double vodka, I finally said, “You feel like another game?” His eyes were a little woozy, but he was still in control.

  “Sure. What’d you have in mind?”

  “A good game of make-believe.”

  Chapter 28

  Marty just stared at me. “A game of make-believe?”

  “It’s only fair. You owe me this one.”

  Marty leaned back and raised his hands. “I’m not arguing. Anything you want.”

  I said, “Anything?”

  “Anything at all.” That smile said he was sincere.

  I let him consider his words and just gazed into his eyes. He really was a good-looking man and a lot of fun to hang out with. I said, “Let’s go see Brennan. I need a little confrontation with him. I want to settle our differences, and he needs to see I’ve moved on. I want the satisfaction of him seeing us as a couple. Then I’m going to tell him you make me feel like he never could.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  I smiled and patted his hand as I said, “Just look pretty.”

  “I can do that.” He gave me a sly smile and said, “I can do a lot more if you want. I’d like to see that prick piss his pants.”

  I thought about it, imagining Brennan with urine staining his expensive slacks, and it made me smile. Marty tended to make me smile.

  “I just feel like there’s something I have to get off my chest with that guy.”

  “Are you kidding? Brennan treated you terribly, and you have a right to get anything you want off your chest. He needs a dose of his own medicine.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  When Marty wandered off again, I grabbed four twenties from my purse and laid them on the table. I wanted to scoot out of there with minimum fuss.

  My friend Lisa Martz, who had introduced Marty and me, came through the front door and saw me. She came right to the table and gave me a hug.

  Lisa said, “Look at you, aren’t you a vision. How’s it going with Marty?”

  Before I could answer, Marty was next to her, ready with a hug.

  I didn’t feel like chatting. I was focused. I wanted to have it out with Brennan. I felt my impatience grow as Lisa chatted about the most Palm Beach of things: houses, cars, and scandals.

  When Lisa moved on to another table to spread the gossip of the island, Marty and I were alone. He said, “When do you want to play this little game of yours?”

  “Why not tonight?”

  Chapter 29

  I had to stop at the Brazilian Court and left Marty in the car. I stopped and spoke with Allie at the front desk, then rushed to my room. One advantage of living in such a tiny space is that nothing ever takes long to find. I was back in the car in a few minutes and found Marty listening to the Moody Blues on the radio.

  As I drove through Palm Beach with Marty in the passenger seat, he surprised me by showing some nerves. It wasn’t about a confrontation, either.

  Marty said, “Do I look all right to meet Brennan?”

  I laughed and said, “You’re not going to date him. You look fine.”

  “I mean, will I impress him the way you want me to?” He blew into his hand and smelled his breath. “God, I need a mint at least.” He dug in the glove compartment, then turned to the console. That was where he found the pistol I’d stuck in there the day before.

  He reached down, pulled out the gun, and examined it for a second, then said, “We’ll take this, too. I hate to admit it, but somehow it makes me feel more confident.”

  If Marty was hesitant to play this game, it didn’t show as he slipped the gun into his pants and pulled his shirt out over it.

  By the time we were in front of my old house, Marty was looking around to make sure no one was on the street. This was Palm Beach and it was after nine o’clock, so that wasn’t even a worry.

  Both the Bentley and the Jaguar were in the driveway, and I could see the downstairs den lights on. That meant Brennan was home. He was the only one who used the den; he’d sit in there when he was working late to keep up with the foreign stock exchanges. We sat in the car and watched the house for a few minutes. Then I saw Brennan’s silhouette as he stood up from the desk and walked to one of the file cabinets that were built into the wall.

  There was no traffic this time of night, but I kept twisting my head from side to side just to make sure. I was nervous, and there was no hiding it. Not only was my heart still pounding, but I felt a thin sheen of sweat across my forehead. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  I turned to Marty and said, “Okay, when we get out, don’t slam the door, just close it quietly.” He nodded obediently.

  I said, “You sure you’re still up for this, babe?”

  “Anything for you.”

  “Brennan can be a lot to deal with. For all his bluster, he does have a mean streak, and he’s not afraid to show it.”

  “I can handle myself.” Marty sounded confident.
/>   “I just want to say what I have to say and get out of here. Okay?”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll behave.”

  I looked up at my grand house and thought about how much my life had changed in the past six months. It made me angry.

  Before I had time to dwell on my emotions, a splash of light fell across us. A car had just turned and was coming down the street slowly. We were parked awkwardly on the curb where there wasn’t supposed to be any parking. We stuck out like a sore thumb. Then I realized that at this time of night, it was likely a police car on patrol. I didn’t feel like answering questions in front of my estranged husband’s house.

  Then I thought of the real problem. What if they pulled us out of the car and found the gun on Marty? That would not go over well here in Palm Beach.

  I looked at Marty and saw the same concerns on his face.

  We both stared at the car as it came toward us at a steady pace like a shark moving methodically through the water. Neither of us could find the will to move.

  Marty was about to say something when I held up my hand to keep him quiet. I needed to think.

  Then, as the car was almost on top of us, I noticed it was a bright red. Not the blue and white of a Palm Beach police car. And it was a Cadillac. A big one. As the car passed us, I could see the tiny white head that barely reached over the dash, and I realized it was a local, someone who probably always drove slowly after dark.

  The elderly woman never even looked in our direction.

  I let out a long breath and grabbed my purse from the backseat, and we slipped out of the car.

  Chapter 30

  We made it up the driveway to the front door without making a sound. For some reason, when we stood in front of the door I found myself out of breath. I pressed the doorbell and could hear the chimes inside the house. Chimes I’d picked out and had installed to replace the stupid ding-dong sound that was attached to the doorbell when we got married. I looked around, making sure no one was watching us. Marty tapped his foot as he stood next to me.

  It was a typical humid Florida night, and the breeze off the Atlantic felt like heaven. The excitement of facing Brennan built inside me. I turned to Marty, and in a low voice I said, “I can’t wait to see the look on Brennan’s face.”

  Then the door opened, and Brennan didn’t disappoint me. He was utterly shocked and couldn’t hide it. Dressed in a polo shirt and golf slacks, he looked good. Almost like a model. His hair was perfect, and he had a few lines on his face, like a man who spent much of his time outdoors. For a change, he was speechless, and his blue eyes were wide with surprise. He looked from me to Marty slowly, then settled back on me. This was exactly what I wanted. He was shaken.

  After a long silence, Brennan said, “Christy, what are you doing here at this hour? I thought we were speaking only through our attorneys.”

  I took a moment to gather myself, looking Brennan straight in the eyes as I said, “I need to say something. Not in court, where I can be censored.”

  “I’m listening,” he said slowly, still looking back and forth between me and Marty.

  Somehow with just those two words he managed to be condescending.

  “Do you realize what a pretentious, pompous ass you are? Is it intentional?”

  Brennan made no comment.

  “You’re rich, so what? You’ve never had any hardships, so basically you’re spoiled, and I enabled you for four years. You didn’t need a wife, you needed a caretaker. I didn’t complain when you left me at home alone on Christmas two years in a row so you could windsurf with your buddies in Aruba. You basically ignored my parents and to this day don’t know my mom’s first name. And you had no reason to try in our marriage, so you just threw me out like the trash. I’ve got news for you, Brennan. I’m not who you thought I was.” I took a breath, then said, “I gave you four years and you gave me nothing in return.”

  “Except a phenomenal lifestyle.”

  “And the privilege of being Mrs. Brennan Moore.”

  “Glad you finally get it.”

  That arrogant smile cut into my soul.

  I kept going. “You spent more on a massage table built into the bathroom than on my engagement ring. That should’ve given me an idea of what to expect when I married you. You told the judge you didn’t think I had ever shown any real emotion toward you. Well, be careful what you wish for. Now you’ll see all my emotions at once. All my well-earned anger and frustration, followed by relief and joy. Now you get to know what it feels like to be powerless.”

  I think Marty could sense my anger, but he shocked me when, without any warning, he yanked the pistol from under his shirt, fumbled with it for a second, and then pointed it at Brennan’s groin. He held it steady in his hand as he brought his face up to look at my reaction.

  I was at a loss. He’d moved so quickly I hadn’t expected it.

  Marty was smiling.

  Brennan staggered back half a step and said, “Jesus Christ, that’s my gun.”

  Chapter 31

  I felt like singing. Why not? I was back inside my house. For the moment I could forget the awkward fact that Marty was holding a gun on Brennan. We shuffled in through the foyer, then turned into Brennan’s den, where it was clear he’d been working. His computer screen was still showing active trades on the foreign stock exchanges, and he had papers laid out across his giant oak desk. The one I had found for him in a furniture shop in North Carolina. It was magnificent, with hardwood inlays and drawers that felt like they moved on air.

  Brennan had been remarkably quiet up to this point, but he still had that self-assured, superior look on his face, even with Marty standing a few feet away pointing the gun at him. It was clear Brennan didn’t think we were going to hurt him. Obviously, we’d been drinking, and I’m sure Brennan just viewed it as another immature prank by a dull wife he thought he’d gotten rid of. But after a minute or so, he was tired of the game and anxious to get back to work.

  He had his hands up slightly, like he was being robbed. It must have been human instinct. He kept his voice low as he said, “Could you point that somewhere else, please.”

  Marty just said, “Nope.”

  It was the best possible response to unnerve Brennan. It also shut him up. He stared at Marty but wisely remained silent.

  Marty cut his eyes to me in an effort to get a clear idea of what we had planned. He was visibly more agitated than when we’d started this little prank and was hopping from one foot to the other like a nervous kid who needed to go to the bathroom. He was probably wondering if I expected him to gun down Brennan like he had Teal the day before. I stepped over to him, patted him on the back, gently wrapped my hand around the gun, and eased it from his tight grip, quietly saying, “It’s going to be okay.” He visibly relaxed as he relinquished the pistol and took a pace backward.

  Now I held the gun. I took a breath to calm down. Marty was about to snap, and I was sure I’d taken the pistol just in time. As I stepped away from him, closer to Brennan, I told Marty, “Just wait right there, sweetheart, and keep calm.”

  Brennan picked up on the fact that I was trying to keep Marty from doing anything crazy, and he thought we were looking for a way out. He waited while I made sure the pistol was pointed down, away from anyone’s vital organs.

  Marty appeared a little hurt that I had taken the gun from him. If I had acted a little faster the day before, maybe poor Teal would still have been alive. The gun was heavy in my hand. Heavier than I remembered it from the range. I carefully slipped it into the pocket of my jeans. It fit snugly.

  Brennan was visibly relieved and regained some of his swagger. He raised his voice and said, “You found some moron you can order around and you think it’s love? Christy, what in the hell are you guys doing here? This doesn’t help anyone. You guys need to get out of my house and sober up.”

  That’s when I straightened up and looked him right in the eye and said, “I’m not drunk. In fact, I’ve barely had a drink all night.” I real
ized that surprised Marty, too, as he looked at me with a puzzled expression.

  Then I reached into my purse, the one large purse I owned, and easily drew out another pistol. The second one of the matched set. It looked identical and rendered both men absolutely mute. I liked that.

  I gave my full attention to Marty. “I’m afraid there’s a lot you don’t understand, sweetheart. And I don’t think you’ll ever realize how much this bothers me.” He still had that look like a puppy as I stepped closer to Brennan, standing just behind him and facing Marty. “I mean it, Marty, I am really, really sorry.” Then I aimed the pistol and squeezed the trigger. Just like I had been taught. By Brennan. The pistol bucked in my hand and the noise inside the house, with all the marble and tile, sounded like a nuclear blast.

  But I still managed to hit my target and shot Marty once, almost dead center in his chest.

  The flash from the muzzle blinded me temporarily. I didn’t even see any bloodstain on his shirt before he dropped straight to the floor, and thankfully, he didn’t make any sounds like Teal had. He rolled onto his back, and then everything stopped. He was absolutely still. My ears rang from the gunshot, and the air had the acrid odor of gunpowder. Marty was dead. It had been quick, and he was now flat on a hard wooden floor that would be easy to clean up.

  I’d noticed how much Brennan had jumped when I pulled the trigger. I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine what he was thinking right now. His legs were already trembling.

  Good God, this was what I had been waiting for.

  Chapter 32

  I was still standing behind Brennan, who dared not turn his head. He had a perfect view of Marty’s crumpled body about fifteen feet in front of him. My ears still throbbed from the noise of the gunshot. Now I knew why we always wore earplugs when we went to the range. My guess was that right about now, Brennan was regretting our days shooting together and his detailed lessons. At the time, he’d just enjoyed being able to tell me things. It had been a power trip for him.