Until Death

by Alicia Rasley

  “Okay, so maybe not. It doesn’t matter,” she cried. “All that matters is this Will is goading this Murdoch guy.”

  “But it was the Murdoch guy who slandered Will. If he’d kept his whining to himself, Will would have settled, and you would have settled.” And a possible murderer would go free, I finished silently.

  “Well, now it’s all been for nothing.”

  “You can still settle your side of the case, can’t you?”

  “Not unless Will drops his suit. My lawyer says that as long as there’s a countersuit, there can’t be any settlement at all. Will’s papering the town with these goddamn interrogatories, and it’s all escalating now.” She added furiously, “And that damned farmer is trying to freeze my accounts.”

  Poetic justice, I almost said. Instead I replied sweetly, “That’s too bad. So do you have to cancel your personal trainer?”

  “Very funny. I still have enough to pay my bills. But—”

  “But no aromatherapy sessions?”

  “But that symphony guild woman keeps calling and asking when she can expect me to make good on my pledge.”

  I recalled the dragon lady of the symphony and felt another unwilling tug of sympathy. “Brad’s on the board there. And his family practically founded the orchestra. Get him to call her off.”

  She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “He would if he could. No one wants that pledge paid off more than Brad, because he went out on a limb to get me involved, and now it looks like I’m reneging on it, and he, well, he doesn’t come right out and say it, but I bet his old friends there on the board, those old rich town monuments, think he was sort of a fool.”

  I was very fond of Brad. Still, I had to admit this was a bit amusing. Given her rocket-like ascent up the social ladder, Wanda could be forgiven for thinking that class was no longer an issue in our town. But Brad had grown up among the sort of people who would prefer their son to marry a thrice-divorced heroin-addicted former debutante than the most honorable registered nurse. Wanda, who had neither the correct breeding nor the proper sense of her place, was unlikely to be popular if she couldn’t make good on her pledge to give lots of money. She wouldn’t be popular even if she did fork over the wherewithal, but the dragon ladies would get her contribution banked before they let her know that.

  I could almost feel sorry for her. Almost. “Well, maybe you need to let this go for a while. Just tell them your charitable contribution schedule has been disrupted a bit, but you’ll get back to them when you can. It’s not like this is the IRS, and they can put you in jail for nonpayment.” Even as I said that, I was thinking that Lynn and O’Brian still had to pay the last month’s withholding tax on its two employees (Lynn and O’Brian that is), and I wished I had to deal only with the dragon lady of the symphony guild.

  “I can’t do that,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t be able to hold my head up in town.”

  Well, at least she’d already absorbed the peculiar sense of shame of the old rich. Adultery, husband-snatching, those were all acceptable. But welshing on a debt? Now that was a sin. “So borrow some money,” I said impatiently, wondering how it came to be that I was giving my replacement financial counsel.

  “Huh. I tried that. But I don’t have any collateral. It’s embarrassing, you know? I even asked Brad to lend me enough to make that initial contribution that’s going to get me into the guild—not even the big one to fix the stage. But he wanted to wait till some investments went up so he wouldn’t take a loss. He said maybe he could borrow against the stocks. I mean, here he is, ready to go into debt so I can pay that stupid pledge.”

  Oh, great. Her expensive expectations got Don to gamble big, and now she was leading yet another man out on that financial tightrope. “Hard to imagine a Munssen borrowing against the margin,” I said drily. “So . . . déclassé. But for you, I guess, it’ll be worth it.”

  “What kind of person do you think I am?” Before I could answer, she added, “I didn’t let him do it. God, it was humiliating. Bad enough I had to ask, when—when Don was supposed to have left me so well-fixed. And all that money sitting there, and I can’t touch it.”

  It was hard for me to feel much sympathy for her when I was contemplating cashing in my 401K. “I can understand your frustration,” was all I said, however.

  “And I was going to pay you back too.”

  “Me? For what?” She couldn’t afford it even if they unfroze her accounts. How much was a husband worth? And a live-in father for my son? And my lost illusions? Those were priceless. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

  She made an exasperated noise. “I’m just talking about that money you gave Tracy for her kids. She said Don set it aside for them, but I figured you were lying to her. I was going to pay you back for that. Don should’ve provided for them, and he didn’t.” She added roughly, “And you’re not his wife anymore, so it’s not your place, it’s mine.”

  Trust Wanda to make it sound as if I’d stolen something from her. I contemplated flinging her repayment back in her face, figuratively speaking, that is, since it was all theoretical at this point. Then I thought of my van, which needed new shocks, and my fifteen-year-old roof, and knew I couldn’t afford to be proud. So through my teeth, I said, “That would be—” The next word stuck in my throat, but I forced it out, “—generous of you.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not going to happen if this goddamned case doesn’t settle. And it can’t settle if Will goes on with his stupid hurt-feelings lawsuit. So how about if you tell him to quit? Then I can get my accounts thawed, and you can get your twenty thousand back, and I can pay off the symphony pledge and stop embarrassing Brad. All you have to do is get him to drop the case.”

  “Sounds like you get a lot more out of this than I do. Not really fair.”

  “Yeah, well, you just go on thinking fairness matters. I told you what I’d do if I can settle the lawsuit. You can decide if it’s worth it to you to help.”

  “I’ve got no reason to help you.”

  “You got twenty thousand reasons.”

  I thought of Will’s gleeful voice as he explained his plans, and my own reasons for wanting more light shed on Olen Murdoch’s actions. “You’ve got more influence with Will than I do. Why don’t you exert a little more energy yourself?”

  “Ha. He doesn’t listen to me. He’s just playing me. For his own agenda. I finally figured that out.” She sounded genuinely injured. I felt again that unwilling sympathy. She was young. She might be hard and practical and cynical, but maybe she was young enough to think that someone like Will would be not just rich but sweet and giving too.

  She added suddenly, “I thought maybe . . . you know, he liked me. But he just wanted to manipulate me. You he likes. For real.”

  “Go figure.”

  “It’s true. He thinks you’re great. Told me that over and over. He’ll do anything you say.”

  “He won’t do anything I say. Trust me. I told him not to put in that industrial grade carpeting in his first building, and he went ahead and did it. Next thing I know, there’s a design magazine there doing a photo shoot for a spread on ‘Tech Chic.’ Will’s got great instincts, and he trusts them a lot more than he trusts me.” I added, “Besides, I think he’s right. I want to make Murdoch squirm. I want him to be nervous. I want him to panic.”

  Wanda was silent for a moment. Then, bitterly, she said, “I just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you. Because Murdoch is not a nice guy. And if he did what you think he did, well, making him nervous is going to make him dangerous. And I for one don’t want him to think that I’m a problem for him. So you’re on your own. I’m making sure he knows that I’m doing my goddamnedest to give him some money, and if he’s got problems, it’s not my fault.”

  She hung up abruptly and left me sitting there chilled. I reminded myself with some relief that Murdoch knew
nothing about my investigation, and even more relief that Tommy was safely ensconced fifty miles away. Will could take care of himself.

  I’d hardly replaced the receiver when the phone rang again. “Good afternoon, Meggie. Brad here. Look, I got this affidavit request from Bowie’s attorney. He wants all this information about Don and our business and how he conducted himself. It’s pretty obvious he intends to make Don the scapegoat here. I don’t want that, and I know you don’t want that either.”

  And if the lien doesn’t keep Wanda off the symphony guild, the scandal will, I added silently. And you’ll be known as the one who sponsored her. “So what can I do?”

  “Talk to Bowie. He’s always seemed pretty reasonable to me.”

  “You must have forgotten all those lease negotiations. You used to mutter about how he lacked all honor, not to mention the spirit of fair play. And he used to call you ‘Old Money’ and ask whether you’d ever gotten around to freeing your serfs.”

  “Well, yes, there were some rough spots.” Brad’s laugh sounded a bit embarrassed. “Just business. He always respected you and liked you too. If you could call and ask him–”

  “Are you and Wanda a tag-team here? Because she just suggested the same thing.”

  “Well—”

  “Brad, to tell you the truth, I think Wanda is underestimating herself here. She’s the widow. It’s her job to protect Don’s good name. I’m just the ex-widow. My pleas to save Don’s reputation won’t have much force.”

  “Except that when the mud gets flung around, we’ll all be stuck with it. You know that. None of this has to do with Ross-Munssen, but everyone will assume that you and I were involved somehow. And we both have family names to protect.”

  The Ross family name was the least of my worries now. But then again, “Ross” never had quite the name value that “Munssen” did in this town. I didn’t have a host of arrogant elderly relatives nagging me to uphold the family honor as Brad did. “I don’t know. I’ll talk to Will. Just don’t expect much. He’s pretty stubborn. But I’ll try to get him to tone it down.”

  “Persuade him it would be best if he settled both lawsuits. Murdoch wants money, that’s clear, and Will’s got plenty of that.”

  But, I thought as I hung up, Will also had plenty of pride. And he didn’t create this situation. Don did. Will would be justified in figuring that he shouldn’t be the one to pay for it. I couldn’t blame him.

  The next day, I stopped by the old farmhouse to make sure it was secured against the predicted storm, then headed for the courthouse for the preliminary hearing on the defamation countersuit. As I entered the courtroom, I pretended I didn’t see Will’s wave. I didn’t want to draw Murdoch’s attention to myself. I just stared at the judge—the same judge, and even more annoyed than the last time.

  “That does it. I’m imposing a gag order here. No more talking to the press. Either of you! You have points to make, make them in your briefs. And counsel, I expect you to restrain your clients. This is a courtroom, not Baghdad. You might be enjoying the prospect of eternal fees here, but I can assure you I am not interested in an escalating series of lawsuits. Once this case and the original case are on my schedule, it’s going to be brisk, and I want absolute adherence to it. No continuances, no postponements.” She fixed first Murdoch and then Will with a blistering gaze. “You are not going to be allowed to use this court to batter each other. Is that clear?”

  Like bad boys brought before the principal, they both muttered assent. Then, with a bang of her gavel, she ordered briefs filed within two weeks, and got up and left the courtroom.

  I slipped out the door, intending to make a dash through the rain to my car. But as I was fumbling for my umbrella, Will came up beside me and slid an arm around my waist. “Hey, Meggie. Nothing like seeing a friendly face out there in the courtroom. Get some coffee?”

  I hesitated. Then I decided that if Will liked me so well, maybe he’d let me out of testifying against my own ex-husband. “Sure. But just downstairs. It’s too wet to walk to a restaurant.”

  A few minutes later, we sat in the coffee shop under the courthouse, Will looking awfully happy and relaxed for a man deep into a ten million dollar lawsuit. He was always at his best on offense, as Microsoft had learned to its dismay. I felt the energy radiating from his body and envied his focused aggression.

  “Will,” I began, “I was talking to Wanda and she told me about what’s been going on.”

  The smile slid right off his face. “She told you? Look, it didn’t mean anything.” He stirred his coffee—round and round—then looked up at me. “We just got together to talk and it happened. It’s not like I cared or anything.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about—” His mouth twisted. “Oh. She didn’t tell you about the other night.”

  I wasn’t shocked. I wasn’t even appalled. I was just weary of this. “No, but now you have.”

  He peered closely at me. “You’re okay with it, right? You understand?”

  “I understand. It doesn’t matter.” I shook my head, and shook it off, the disappointment, the bitterness, the past . . . the future. “No, what I was talking about was this lawsuit. I got that interrogatory, and I have to say, it’s going to be difficult for me to answer those questions. This is my son’s dad you’re talking about, and Tommy—well, things are a little fragile now, and I don’t think it’s going to do him much good to hear that I’ve called Don a fraud in a signed and sworn statement. So, I’m wondering if you can manage without it.”

  “It’s nothing but the truth. And it’s my whole case: I didn’t do anything wrong, and Don did. It’s going to come out. I can’t tell my attorney not to do his job. Know what I mean?”

  I was so tired of Don and his stupid messes. “I know. I just feel like I have to protect Tommy from his father’s screw-up. But maybe I can’t. He’s already halfway convinced Don was a felon, and that I’ve been hiding it from him.” One last try, halfhearted at that. “You can’t do it without tarring and feathering Don?”

  “Don’t think so. And I told Wanda the same thing.” He must have seen my wince, because he added, “So you’re really okay with what happened with Wanda?”

  At least Wanda didn’t get any more from sleeping with him than I got from a cup of coffee. Maybe she wasn’t Helen, destroyer of men, destroyer of cities, after all. “Will, you can do whatever you want with whomever you want. I have nothing to say about it.”

  “But you don’t like it.” He was regarding me with hopeful eyes. Did he want me to agree?

  “I sort of disapprove of using people that way, if that’s what you were doing. But Wanda’s a grown woman, and God knows she’s hardly an innocent in such matters. She’s been using you too, as you’ve no doubt noticed. So no, I don’t much like it. But it’s not my business.”

  “Would you say you were, like, jealous?”

  I raised my hands defensively. “There’s no reason for me to be jealous, other than I have a history with Wanda I don’t like to think about. But it doesn’t have much to do with you.”

  “So we can still go out, you mean? On dates?”

  I gazed at him in wonderment. “We aren’t going out now. And I’d hardly start after this.”

  “But you said it didn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t matter, precisely because we’re not dating. It would matter, trust me, if we were. Because I am never, never going to compete for a man again, and especially not with Wanda.” My voice was rising, and I sensed eyes turning towards me. More quietly, I added, “The two of you are . . . sophisticated enough to handle that sort of relationship, I’m sure. I’m not. And I don’t want to be. So, no offense intended, but you’re not a great bet to make me happy, and I’m not about to let some guy make me unhappy again.”

  I was out of breath when I finis
hed this, and Will had a wounded look in his eyes. “I can make you happy, Meggie. Give me a chance.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. I know . . . I know you think now I’m the one you want, but it won’t last, and I don’t want to be with you when that new notion hits. And—” When I saw the light dawn in his eyes, it occurred to me I was implying if he’d just promise eternal love, I was his, and remembered that my feelings mattered too, that I didn’t want a guy just because he wanted me.

  “And I think you’re a terrific guy in a lot of ways, but I just don’t feel romantic towards you. I just don’t. Believe me, if I did, I’d let you know, because . . .” Because he’s a zillionaire? Because he’s a friend? Because I’d never really care enough for him to break my heart? “Because . . . because I’d want you to know. But it’s just not there for me. And . . .” I raised my hand to forestall his protest. “And maybe I’m wrong, but I think if I did decide I wanted you, half the attraction would vanish. I wouldn’t be a challenge anymore. And that’s just a game I don’t want to play.”

  “You’re wrong, Meggie.” He said this in a deadly sincere voice as he put his hand over mine. “You matter to me. It’s not a game. You’re the one I want.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “Did you tell Wanda that the other night?”

  He had the grace to flush. “You said you didn’t mind about that.”

  I didn’t. Not really. Not for me. Oh, I felt some discomfort. But I knew the torment of Wanda-jealousy, had been torn apart by it, and this was nothing like that. This was more of a distaste at the two of them using each other that way, at my friend Will professing love for me while bedding down with her, at the sense of being the only person left in the world who thought sex was too powerful a force to play around with. And maybe a bit of envy that they didn’t care about that, and could play around without fear or remorse.

  But all I said was, “No, I don’t care about that. But I would, if I felt that way about you. I’d probably want to kill you, and her too. I’d be torn apart and feel insecure and inadequate and rejected and eaten up with jealousy. So—” I finished, looking down at my coffee, “I’m glad I don’t feel that way about you.”