My Dear Marybeth,
I know I am probably the last person you want to hear from. What I did to you was truly unforgivable, I know, but in my defense, I am a sick man. I suffer from a cerebral dysfunction.
This frontotemporal disorder creates an obsessive-compulsive behavior that I wasn’t able to control. Much like pathological gambling or kleptomania. So you see, I was as much a victim as those I preyed upon.
I know I cannot undo what is done, but I hope to put this painful chapter in my life to rest. Therapy and finding God has given me purity of heart. I’m a harmless old man now who just wants to live out his days in peace, worshipping the Lord, surrounded by family.
Presently I am on house arrest, but in a few months I will be allowed to travel. At that time I would like to come and reconnect with my sister and to ask for your absolution for the distress I caused you so long ago.
Marybeth, forgiveness is divine. God has forgiven me. Now will you?
Fondly,
Uncle Ted
I read the letter twice, feeling Mom’s eyes burning a hole through the back of it. “Mom. I don’t know what to say. Tell me how you feel about this?”
“He’s acting like it’s not his fault. Like being a pedophile is no worse than having a gambling addiction. Like he’s a born-again Christian in AA, for God’s sake.” She snatched the letter. “‘I’m a harmless old man now.’ Harmless? Ha! He’s a serial pedophile in his early seventies. My God! How could he still have his freedom?” She slapped her forehead. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. God has forgiven him and I guess the system has, too. Well, I haven’t. And I never will.” She crammed the letter into her purse and gulped her tea down. “If I didn’t have to do a hair weave this afternoon, this would be wine.”
Mom dragged the letter out again and smoothed it on the table. “‘Forgiveness is divine. God has forgiven me.’ I know for a fact he was not a religious man, Katy, but evidently now he’s found religion and he’s all holier than thou. How convenient. Defile little girls and then when you finally get caught, claim you’ve found God and all is forgiven. Makes me want to kill him.”
There was a chorus of throat clearings around us and several sharp glances pointed our way.
“Well, excuse me for not being a fan of child molesters. You know what, Katy? I will have a glass of wine.” She picked up her phone. “I’m texting Jeri. She had a cancellation, so she can take my appointment.”
I caught the waiter’s eye and beckoned him over. “You ready to order?” He smiled anxiously. Apparently he’d heard Mom’s rant.
I hadn’t even glanced at the menu, and I doubted Mom was hungry. “How about two glasses of the chardonnay, and when you get back, we’ll order.”
He departed and Mom said, “I’ll behave now. But, Katy. What am I going to do?”
“You are going to give me the letter and let me deal with it.”
“Sweetheart, I can’t expose you to that monster.”
“Mom, I’m pushing thirty-two, so not really his type. It’s better I do this than you or Pop. Pop would probably kill him. We already have enough legal problems in the family without Ben having to defend both Pop and me.”
“What do you plan to do?” She reached across the table, clutching my hand. “I do not want you talking to him. Please.”
“No worries there. I will simply write to him and make it very clear he is never to contact you again.”
“What about Mom?”
“Her, too. And Aunt Edith and Emily. He is to leave all of us alone or…” I paused, thinking of what “or” could be. “Or we’ll tell his parole officer that he’s harassing you and you’re one of his victims.”
Mom looked sick at that idea. “Then Mom would find out.”
“No matter what, you have to quit putting it off and tell her.” I sipped my water, wishing the waiter would hurry up with the wine. “Ruby has to hear this from you.” I tapped the letter. “Not him. Besides, I don’t know how much longer I can stall her from searching for Uncle Ted online.”
After lunch, I went home to compose my letter. I was feeling protective and enraged that this scum would have the audacity to contact my mother.
Several drafts later, I finished the letter and then set it aside to simmer. I’ve learned never to send the first draft of an angry missive, whether by e-mail, snail mail, or text. If I wait a day or two, often whatever it was I was all worked up about usually turns out to be no big deal. I speak from bitter, humiliating experience.
Of course, this was different. I would be just as furious no matter how long I waited to send it, but I wanted to make sure my letter was worded just right.
Out of curiosity, I googled his house and virtually stood on his sidewalk, staring at the glossy red front door of his midcentury tan rancher, willing him to magically step out on the porch so I could blow him away with a flick of my mouse.
I reread my letter, made a few changes, and set it back on simmer.
Chapter Fifty-One
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
FRIDAY • AUGUST 23
Posted by Katy McKenna
Sam called this afternoon with a Chad update. “He’s asking for you, Katy.”
My first thoughts were, Yippee! He’s alert and talking. He’ll clear my name.
Sam interrupted my cerebral happy dance. “There’s just one tiny little hiccup.”
I stopped dancing. “What?”
Not knowing what kind of minefield I was about to step into, I paused in the hospital room doorway to assess the situation. Sam stood at the end of Chad’s bed while his attending nurse did his routine duties. Blood pressure, pulse, temp.
I leaned into the room. “Psst. Sam.”
She stepped over to me. “Before you see him, the doctor wants a word. Wait at the nurse’s desk and I’ll have him paged.”
A few minutes later, I instantly aged ten years as Doogie Howser shook my hand. He must have been old enough to be a doctor, but he looked like he was still in middle school.
“Right now, Mr. Bridges’s mental state is very delicate,” he said.
I forced myself to pay attention while I inspected his shiny cheeks for a hint of stubble.
“He cannot be aroused or provoked in any manner.”
I certainly have no plans to arouse him, so no worries.
“In other words,” Dr. Doogie continued, “agree with whatever he says. He’s confused at the moment, that’s to be expected. I’m sure that in a few days, he’ll be back on track.”
“Chad?” I apprehensively approached his bed. “How’re you doing?”
His face lit with the goofy grin I once adored. “There’s my darling wife. Where’ve you been?” He held out his hand, and I limped around to his side and reluctantly took it. “Why are you using a cane?”
“It’s nothing. Just had a little accident. I’ll be fine.”
Sam stood up from the bedside chair. “Katy, you should sit down and rest your leg.”
“Sam, please don’t leave.”
“Relax. Not going anywhere.”
Chad held his arms outstretched. “Before you sit, my love, can you give your hubby a hug?”
Sam took the cane and I leaned in for the embrace.
“And a kiss?”
I flicked a “help-me” glance at Sam and she bobbed her head, meaning “do it.”
I brushed his chapped lips. “Baby, you can do better than that.” He hauled me in, smooshing my face against his, and slithered his tongue into my mouth.
I should win an Academy Award for that performance. Not only did I kiss him, but I didn’t throw up in his mouth. “Chad, your injury. You need to be careful.” More stellar acting. “There will be plenty of time for that later when you’re completely healed.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “I must be the luckiest man on earth. I’ve survived a bullet, a coma, and I have you.”
What about being poisoned? I assumed no one had told him, so I kept my mouth shut and plastered a sunny grin on my
face. “Right back at ya, Chad.”
“Sweetie?” He shifted in bed, wincing. “Could you fluff my pillows?”
Sam stepped in. “Let me do that for you.”
“No, I want Katy to do it. She knows how I like it.”
Oh, good grief. I leaned over his head, adjusting the pillows, and felt his hand cup my boob.
“Woof,” he whispered in my ear.
That was it. Time to tell him what’s what. “Chad, there’s some things I think you should know.”
Samantha tapped my shoulder. “We’ll be right back, Chad.” She grabbed my arm and wrestled me out to the hall. “You cannot tell him. It’s too soon. Right now he’s very fragile, so we can’t have him getting upset. Chances are by tomorrow his memory will’ve returned.”
“But Sam. What if it doesn’t? Are you going to tell me we have to live together as man and wife so I don’t upset him? Because that is not happening.”
Samantha managed to keep a straight face, but her lips were quivering.
“This isn’t funny, Sam.”
“Oh, come on. You have to admit, it kind of is.”
We returned to the room, and Samantha made a big fuss about Chad needing his rest. “Time to scoot, Katy.”
“Wait,” he said. “What were you going to tell me, Katy?”
“That. You.” Sam cleared her throat. “Need to rest. That’s all.” I pecked his cheek and Sam handed me the cane. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Will I see you later?”
“Chad, it’s getting late,” said Sam. “The dinner cart will be coming around soon.” Her tone was akin to the one she uses with little Casey. “Hey, are you up for a little gelatin?”
He hates gelatin. He always called it “flu food.”
“Ooo,” said Chad, rubbing his hands together. “That’s sounds good. I hope it’s cherry.”
I was actually considering staying a while longer to watch him eat his gelatin, when Lisa shrieked from the doorway, “What the hell’re you doing here?”
“Lisa!” I held up my hands to halt her charge into the room. “We need to talk. But not here. There’s something you need to know.
She advanced on me, purple acrylic claws flashing. “Out of my way, bitch.”
Sam blocked her, pushing into Lisa’s personal space. “Oh no, you don’t. This is a hospital, and if you can’t behave, you’re leaving.”
Lisa jutted her chin, virtually spitting in Sam’s face. “This is a public facility and you can’t make me.”
“This is not a public facility, and yeah, I can.”
“Katy,” whimpered Chad, clutching his blanket. “Who is that mean lady?”
I moved to the head of his bed and murmured, “It’s okay. She’s leaving.”
“Like hell I am.” Lisa elbowed Sam in the stomach, crashing her into the wardrobe cupboard. “Baby, it’s me. Your fiancée.”
Chad gawked at her like she’d just landed from Mars. “You’re crazy. I don’t even know you and besides, I’m already married.” He pointed at me, now hiding behind his IV drip pole. “To her. She’s my wife.”
That shut Lisa up as she rubbernecked us, trying to grasp the situation. She didn’t notice Sam dash out of the room.
“Lisa,” I said from my hiding spot. “If you will go out in the hall with me, I can explain everything.”
My voice reanimated her and just as she stepped toward me, a Marine Corps-wannabe security guard entered the fray. “You’ll need to come with me, miss.” He patted the baton hanging from his belt like it was a loaded Glock and reached for Lisa’s arm.
She stepped away from his grasp and crooked a thumb at me. “I’m not going unless she goes too.”
Chad burst into tears. “Please don’t make Katy leave.” His bristly lower lip quivered. “I’m scared.”
Feeling like I was protecting a little boy, I stepped away from the pole and patted his head. “It’s okay. I won’t leave you.”
He looked up at me, his teary eyes as big as one of those little waifs in the Keane paintings. “Promise?”
Lisa looked like she was choking on a mouthful of nails, and I couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit sorry for her. But only a teeny-tiny bit.
“Chad. What’s wrong with you?” she asked, smearing a mascaraed tear. “Why are you acting this way? I’m your fiancée. The love of your life. Your soulmate.”
I should have restrained my scornful snort, but it just popped out of me. Kind of like a burp or a fart you don’t know is coming until it erupts.
Lisa’s gaze swung to me, hands clenched and glassy-eyed like a cat about to pounce on its prey.
“Let’s go, lady,” said the guard.
“All right. I’m going. But just one thing first.” Her balled fist shot out, lightning fast, and sucker-punched me in the eye, sending me sprawling across Chad’s body.
“That’s it, lady!” The guard whipped out handcuffs and dragged Lisa away from me.
Sam hauled me off Chad (now blubbering inconsolably) to a sitting position and inspected my eye. “You’re going to have a nasty shiner. I’ll get you an ice pack.”
From the doorway, the security officer said, “Do you want to press charges?”
With one hand clapped over my broken eye, I peeked at Lisa, now cuffed, her body tensed like she’d tear me apart given the chance. “I don’t know. Just get her out of here.”
As he escorted Lisa down the hall, she screamed, “You stay away from my fiancé, or I will fucking kill you.”
“So that’s Lisa,” said Sam. “Nice girl.”
The dinner cart clattered into the room, pushed by a perky senior volunteer. “Who wants gelatin?”
Chapter Fifty-Two
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
SATURDAY • AUGUST 24
Posted by Katy McKenna
Private
Today should have been my turn to host the book club, but with my injuries I was relieved from duty, so we gathered at Samantha’s. The minute I entered the house, I was the center of attention.
“OMG. You poor, poor thing,” said Justin, rushing to me all dithery. “First you get shot and now a black eye?”
“Aunt Kaaaateee!” Casey tore into the room making a beeline for me.
I braced myself for the attack, but Sam intercepted him before he lunged. “Auntie Katy has some owies and can’t pick you up, Casey.”
The little guy looked at me and his big blue eyes got bigger. “Wow. What happened to your eye? Did a bad guy punch you out?”
“You could say that.” I laughed and found out that laughing hurt my sore eye.
“Can I touch it?”
“Sure, if you’re very gentle, but I can’t bend down, so Mama will have to pick you up.”
Sam hoisted him to her hip, and he cautiously touched my eye. “Wow. That’s so cool. I bet you beat the bad guy up, right?”
Before I could answer, I caught Sam’s we don’t condone violence look. “No, sweetie. I called the police and the bad guy went to jail.”
“Okay, mister. Time to go watch your movie and let the grown-ups have their meeting.” Sam set Casey down and swatted his tush. “Scoot!”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Justin said, “Now dish, girl. What happened?”
I smiled mysteriously. “All will be revealed after I get a plate of food.”
Settling in the recliner in Sam’s spacious kid-cluttered living room with a plate piled with scrumptious eats on my lap, I brought everyone, minus absentees Heather and Debra, up to date on my latest bizarre misadventures.
“Wow,” said Melanie. “Your life is like one big never-ending soap opera. Only worse. You can’t make this stuff up.”
“Are the police still after you about Chad being injected with potassium chloride?” asked Nora, delicately nibbling a salmon-and-cucumber canapé.
“I don’t know. But my grandma’s boyfriend is a big time defense lawyer, and he told me not to worry. And since I don’t have access to a drug like that, their case against me is
pretty flimsy.” I glanced around the group, giving them the evil black eye. “But all of you do.”
“Hello. I’m a nurse anesthetist,” said Justin, waving his hand. “Easy-peasy.”
“It’s true,” said Melanie. “I’m a hospice nurse, so while I do have access to potassium chloride, it’s certainly not a drug I would ever use. It causes severe heart arrhythmias and usually leads to sudden cardiac death.”
Chloe crossed her tanned arms. “Well, I for one, as a patient rep, do not have access to any drugs.”
“So what you’re saying, Melanie,” I said, “is that all of you…”
Chloe cleared her throat.
“Except Chloe, could be guilty. The only other members with no access to potassium chloride, or any other drugs other than over-the-counter, are Heather and me, and yet I seem to be the number one suspect.”
“Don’t forget Debra,” said Sam. “She could have done it too. She certainly has the means.”
I thought a moment. “Trouble is, none of you have a motive. So that narrows it down to me, Heather, her mother, and his girlfriend, Lisa, although she really has nothing to gain by his death. And now that I think about it, she was really surprised to see him tied to the bed. She actually thought we were having a kinky affair.” I shook my head, hating the fact that I was once again, standing up for that nasty woman. “So now we’re down to Heather, her mother, and me.”
“The guy’s a big phony loser,” Sam said. “So we really don’t know how many people he’s screwed, you know.”
“That’s true. In fact, now that I think about it, there was a man at the country club who made it very clear to me that Chad is not a popular guy there. Even asked me if the jackass owes me money.” I paused for a quick sip of Merlot. “And you should see Chad’s house. No way could he afford a house like that on what the bookstore makes. Plus, he drives a new Lexus SUV.”
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 46
