by Nicola Marsh
I never venture past the hedges because of the bees. For as long as I’ve known her May has been a keen apiarist. When I first started dating Grayson she’d bore me silly with tales of her honey, beeswax, propolis and royal jelly. I couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to be around the vile things. It wasn’t until Grayson told her I’m allergic that she shut up about her bees. She’s always been understanding about my anaphylaxis, ensuring her hives are well away from the house I regularly visit as part of the Parker clan.
I pause at the hedge. I can’t see her but I’m increasingly nervous about stepping past the border that separates me from her bees.
“Ria, come quick! Grayson’s hurt badly.” Her frantic tone, coming from behind a garden shed, has my feet running before I can contemplate the wisdom of venturing past the hedge.
It isn’t until I round the corner of the shed that I know I’ve made a mistake.
Possibly a fatal one.
May is standing beside a box less than five feet away, her hand resting on the top. Her smile is as guileless as ever but there’s a hint of something else in her eyes. It chills me to the bone.
“Do you know this is called a Langstroth hive? It opens from the top and the frames are vertical.” She drums her fingers lightly on the top, her tone well-modulated and calm, like it’s perfectly normal she’s duped me into coming near the insects that can kill me—and she knows it. “Clever things, bees. And totally under appreciated.”
Her grin widens and it creeps me out. Goosebumps rise on my skin and the nape of my neck prickles with trepidation. “Want to come closer and take a look?”
I’m close enough, without a hope of outrunning those bees if she lets them loose. I don’t want to antagonize her and I need to play dumb so I can buy some time. Grayson must be inside the house and if I can back away slowly then make a run for it I may stand a chance. There must be thousands of bees in that hive and if she opens the lid on that box I’m in serious trouble, considering my EpiPen’s in my bag in the car.
“Is Grayson okay?” I pretend to glance around, forcing a confused frown.
“We both know he’s not here, dear, so please don’t patronize me.”
The drumming of her fingers matches the pounding of my heart as a cold sweat breaks out over my body.
“I don’t understand—”
“Of course you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Justin called and told me about your bizarre little conversation so being the intrepid investigative journalist you are I knew you’d come straight here.” She tut-tuts and waggles a finger at me. “You’re a very intelligent woman but you’re extremely predictable.”
I have to keep her talking, have to give Grayson a chance to find us. Because I know exactly why she has led me here.
Injecting false enthusiasm into my voice, I say, “Justin and I discussed the IT at the company. He keeps pushing me to write an article for you as good publicity.” I force a laugh, when in fact I want to scream. “But you advised us not to garner unwanted attention because of the upcoming sale, so I refused. But he won’t take no for an answer and it’s starting to bug me. So I’m sorry if he rung you about it but I’m sure we can sort it out ourselves. Unless he keeps persisting.”
Doubt flickers in her eyes and I mentally score one to me. I continue, desperate to confuse her so I have a chance to escape. “He mentioned you head-up IT so I thought I could get you onside when he asks me again? I imagine your department is state of the art but if you’re selling, do you really want me writing an article?”
“Ah, well… yes, you’re right, I’d prefer we didn’t draw attention to the company at this point in time.” Deep lines of confusion crease her brow, as if she’s buying my fabrication, and I take a step back.
It’s a mistake. I realize it the moment her brow clears and she fixes me with that maniacal stare again.
“Nice try, dear. I almost believed you.” Her lips pull back in a sinister smile that bares her teeth like a feral animal. “But you know, don’t you?”
I’m dead. I knew it the moment she lured me here under false pretenses. But I’ll keep fighting. It’s what I do, what I’ve always done. If I can stretch this out in the hope Grayson will come out of the house… “Know what—”
“You’re doing it again. Patronizing me.” She rattles the top of the box and the humming increases, filling me with dread. “This could’ve been simple if you hadn’t poked your nose into my business. But now that you’ve figured out I’m the only one with full online control at the company, you’ve left me no choice but to get rid of you.”
I gulp, swallowing my dread. I’m petrified and totally stunned that the mother-in-law I trusted is actually a madwoman.
“This all started with that stupid Ashlin.” She tut-tuts. “That vain woman ruined the sale I’d negotiated thanks to her affair with Aaron, her pillow talk sabotaging my company, and she had to be removed before she inflicted further damage. So I arranged that car accident with a contact of mine who’ll do anything for a fast buck, and thought the problem was solved.”
Her face crinkles in consternation. “But the world is full of incompetence and they didn’t get the job done. So I had to buy some time and prevent anyone looking too closely into her so-called accident, so I diverted suspicion with a few more.” A sly smile curves her lips. “I enjoyed watching you all buzzing around like my beloved bees, not knowing who would be targeted next. And in the meantime, I used the distraction to continue siphoning funds from the company before the sale, ensuring my grandchildren are well provided for and never reliant on their wasteful parents.”
She’s crazy. Absolutely round-the-twist. She instigated all the deliberate ‘accidents’ in the family as a distraction to protect her precious money? Before I can formulate a response that doesn’t articulate exactly how nuts that is, she continues.
“Slipping ground-up painkillers into Shamira’s drink was easy, her head is always in the clouds. And paying some kid to pretend to run me over was a cinch.” She winces and rotates her wrist. “Though taking a tumble and spraining this wasn’t part of the plan.”
She fixes her surprisingly clear gaze on me and that clarity scares me the most. She’s lucid and talking about murder like she’s planning her next shopping expedition. “Then there’s my pathetically addicted daughter Christine, who can’t keep off the drugs. Rather easy paying someone to teach her a lesson.”
Bile rises in my throat. She paid someone to beat her own daughter? I can’t fathom the depths of her madness, made worse by the calm, controlled façade she presents.
“As for you.” She jabs her finger in my direction. “Jumping at shadows. Always looking over your shoulder. Having you followed by a PI on the pretext of an investigation into your private life was a breeze.”
She looks sad, like she’s perpetuated this madness reluctantly. “I had high hopes for you, dear. You could’ve joined Parker Partnership and been a great asset to our PR department, writing all our copy, making us look amazing until another sale opportunity came along. Just imagine, you could’ve worked alongside Justin and who knows what may have developed between the two of you.” Her tinkle of laughter sends ripples of alarm down my spine. “He likes you, you know. It’s obvious. And with time you could’ve reciprocated his feelings and made a powerful couple, capable of anything.” She shakes her head. “It’s a shame that won’t happen now, because you’re the only one who knows any of this and for that, you have to die.”
I want to yell “you’re crazy, Grayson has almost figured this out,” but I see her grab the top of one of the hives and my throat seizes, in the same way it will if one of those bees stings me.
“It’s a shame you’ll have an anaphylactic reaction to my bees and won’t be around to tell anyone what you know. And they’ll think it was a weird accident, you coming down here looking for me and getting stung.” She lifts the handle an inch and I swear I stop breathing.
Fear floods my lungs and my muscles lock, making movement
impossible. I’m on the verge of emptying my bladder in terror and there isn’t one damn thing I can do about it.
I think of Shelley, my darling daughter: her faintest lisp, her penchant for unicorns, her unswerving belief that all is right with the world.
If only.
I can’t die this way. I won’t.
“May, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. You said as much when you called the family meeting this morning, so maybe all this is a way of dealing—”
“You know, Percival was like this at the end.” She mimics talking with her free hand. “He blathered too, begging for forgiveness for yet another indiscretion, saying he’d have me investigated for costing the company money, before flinging a separation in my face.”
Her eyes glitter with malice. “He actually thought he could leave me and get away with it.”
Her calm grin is chilling. “So many ways to cause a heart attack by ingesting untraceable concoctions.” She pats her chest, over her heart. “My only regret? I didn’t kill him years earlier. But I could put up with his sadism and his infidelities, I couldn’t tolerate being ousted from the company.”
She snaps her fingers. “He thought he was smarter than me when he stumbled on my little scheme to siphon money from the company. As bad as his nosy son Grayson.” She snickers. “It was too easy getting rid of Grayson by threatening harm to you and Shelley, but when Percy picked up where he’d left off… I stopped him. And became a wealthier woman in the process.”
I’m shell-shocked. She’d been behind those threats forcing Grayson to leave? I thought she’d sent those emails to me and caused our accidents. But learning she murdered her husband means I have no chance. She’s revealed too much. Nothing will save me bar a miracle.
“So you see, dear, while it pains me to do this, you’ve left me no choice.”
I want to yell that Grayson has almost figured this out. But I can’t put him in danger. For I have no doubt, if she killed her husband she’ll kill her son without hesitation. And I have to think of Shelley, I have to protect her. If I’m not around, she’ll need her father.
“Think of it this way. Your death will be surprisingly painless and fairly quick. You’ll get stung, your throat will constrict and you’ll pass out. Simple.” She grasps the handle tighter and lifts the lid, sliding a frame out of the box.
Bees swarm the air and the instant adrenaline surge makes my legs move. I turn and run. Long strides that cover the ground but not fast enough. My thighs cramp and my calves burn but I keep running without looking back.
The buzzing fills my ears and I panic, swinging my arms in a wild attempt at swatting, making contact with nothing but air.
I hear a strange hissing behind me and smell smoke.
“Nooo…” May’s anguish almost stops me but I keep running, needing to clear the hedge before I can risk a glance back.
My lungs are thick with smoke and I cough, making a desperate lunge when I reach the hedge, and I’m through.
Only then do I peek over my shoulder to see Grayson, brandishing a smoker, while May attempts to lift more frames.
She’s tugging at the hives, hunched over, oblivious to everything but killing me. I see Grayson lift the smoker overhead and bring it down on the back of her neck. Her fingers relax and she appears to grasp at air before she slumps to the ground, unconscious.
“Run!” he yells and I do, not stopping until I reach the front of the house.
Another adrenaline burst propels me at a pace I never knew I’m capable of and my legs are wobbling when I finally reach my car. I fumble for the remote in my pocket, stabbing at it several times before the thing unlocks.
I wrench open the door, tumble into the driver’s seat and slam the door shut, hitting the lock three times until it clicks.
Only then do I finally allow myself the luxury of bawling.
45
Ashlin
We’re on our second sangria each when Christine’s cell rings. She glances at the screen and wrinkles her nose.
“It’s Grayson.”
“What does he want?” I tip my glass back to catch the last few drops with my tongue. My head feels fuzzy and I’m enjoying the wine buzz before midday. It blurs my run-in with Justin nicely. Hopefully, after a few more glasses, I’ll forget him altogether.
“Probably doing Mom’s dirty work. She must be dying to know how I’m doing in rehab but rather than calling herself she’s getting a minion to do it.”
Christine stares at the blaring phone, clearly dithering.
“Just answer it already,” I say, reaching for the sangria jug. “I’ll top you up after you do.”
“Deal.” She tosses back what’s left in her glass with two gulps before answering. “Hey, Grayson, what’s up?”
I hear the deep murmur of his voice, followed by Christine easing the phone away from her ear for a moment. She’s pale and the glass slips from her hand, landing on the grass beside the sunlounger.
I lean forward and touch her thigh to get her attention, mouthing, “What’s wrong?”
She shoos me away, pressing the phone to her ear again. “I don’t understand.”
I hate being privy to one-sided telephone calls and resort to topping up my glass. She’ll tell me what’s going on when she’s done.
“Mom did what?”
Christine’s ashen, making the bruises on her cheekbones pop and her shiner resemble an eye-patch.
I wonder if she’ll want to stay with my girls coming home today. I’m looking forward to picking them up from school later and spending some time with them. I adore my girls and with the impending custody battle I need to make sure I do everything right. I know Justin. He won’t give in easily and he’ll use every dirty trick at his disposal to make me look like a bad mom.
“Do you need us to come down there?” She fixes me with a glare I have no hope of interpreting. “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
She disconnects and the cell falls into her lap, as if her fingers have turned numb.
“What’s your mom done this time?”
She stares at me, wide-eyed, and shakes her head. “I can’t believe it.”
“What?”
“Mom tried to kill Ria.” Christine leans down to pick up the wine glass she dropped while I try to process what she’s said.
I press my fingertips to my temples. “I’m not that drunk, yet I could’ve sworn you said—”
“Mom tried to murder Ria.”
I can’t understand any of this but before I can interrogate Christine she pushes slowly to her feet, shaking her head. “I have to go.”
“Do you want me to come—”
“No,” she yells, and I wince. “Sorry, but this is something the Parkers have to do on our own.”
I let her go, trying to clamp down on my irrational fear that this family is capable of anything.
46
Shamira
“I can’t believe this.” Trent is shaking his head, his pallor scaring me. “Mom tried to kill Ria?”
He’s repeated this twice already, and Justin obviously loses patience on the other end of the line, because Trent says, “I’ll throw a few things together and be there as soon as I can.”
His eyes are wide when he hangs up. “Mom’s lost the plot. She’s been behind everything, including trying to poison you.”
I kind of figured that out from snippets of his conversation just now, but I can’t worry about his psycho mom when there are more important issues between us.
“I need to go and be with my family.”
“Okay,” I say, but he’s already turned his back on me and is heading for the bedroom.
I follow, watching with a heavy heart as he packs, haphazardly stuffing random items of clothing into a duffel bag. I’m oddly dispassionate. Empty. Aching. None of this feels real but it is, a living nightmare where the man I love finds me abhorrent and is leaving me.
Because that’s the real reason he’s packing. Spending time with his family w
hile they sort out this mess with May is the last thing he’d do if he didn’t want to get away from me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, for the umpteenth time.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve apologized: for the abortion, for the lies, for the paranoia.
He wants space, some time apart to think. He says he still loves me, for what it’s worth, but I believe in the old adage ‘actions speak louder than words.’
He zips up the bulging overnight bag and turns to face me. “That’s it, then.”
I avert my eyes from that bag, wishing I could unzip it and re-hang all his clothes. “Will you keep me posted?”
His sigh is heartfelt and I ache for what he’s going through, his mother’s lunacy on top of my confession. “I have no idea what’s happening but for now I need to go see my crazy family so we can face this together and I’ll probably stay on for a while.”
“Good plan.”
I can’t fathom that May is capable of murder. She’s too refined, too dignified. We don’t know why she did it and I don’t want to know. All I’m hoping for is that Trent has time to think about us while he’s getting a handle on his loony mother with his siblings. I understand his need to be with them and I’m hoping that living with that motley bunch will have him coming home sooner rather than later.
“There’s going to be a lot of media coverage for the family.” His eyes darken with pain. Pain I caused. “They’re going to dig, to try and come up with whatever dirt they can. Are you prepared for that?”
I eyeball him so he can see I’m not afraid, not anymore. “The most important person knows everything about me now so I don’t care what they print.”
Surprise widens his eyes. “But the shop? It could affect your business.”
Even now, when his world as he knows it has been obliterated—first by me, then his mother—he’s concerned about me.
I cross the short distance between us and lay a hand on his chest, relieved when he doesn’t pull away. “Nothing is as important to me as you and our marriage. So whatever happens, we’ll face it and we’ll get through it.” My hand slides up to cup his cheek. “It’s what we do.”
