Live and Let Die

by Bianca Sloane

  Cicely motioned to the bartender for a menu. “Did they give you his address?”

  “No, but I have to tell you, I get the feeling he’s not in Michigan.”

  “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact she was filing for divorce. Although… ”

  Sondra sat up. “What?”

  “Well, I didn’t think too much of this at the time. I didn’t think much of it until just now… ” Cicely licked her lips. “The last show we worked together, I do remember she kept getting a lot of phone calls that night, and she seemed agitated. I mean the phones are always going crazy and she could handle them like a pro, but this particular night, she seemed really bothered by it.”

  “Did she tell you who it was?”

  Cicely shook her head. “No. Well, she said it was some PR person hounding her, which we get a lot of.”

  “Who do you think it really was?”

  “Jack.”

  Sondra crunched on her ice. “What makes you say that?

  “Well, a few weeks before Tracy… disappeared, my husband and I were having dinner at Flow and Jack came over to say hi. Jimmy went to the restroom, and I asked him how he was—really—and he said he still loved her, but that he wished her nothing but happiness. But… ”

  “But you don’t believe him.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just… sometimes, when you love someone, you’ll do things you never thought you would do—good and bad.”

  “Did you tell her about what Jack said?”

  “No. It wasn’t my place to tell her that kind of news.”

  Sondra tapped her finger against the bar, disturbed. “I ran into Jack myself not too long ago.”

  “Really,” Cicely said, surprised. “Where?”

  “In New York—he was in town on business. He also said he saw Tracy the night before her disappearance. Told me that she told him she was unhappy.”

  “Unhappy about what?”

  “He said she ran away before she told him anything.”

  Cicely wrinkled her nose. “Did he tell the police?”

  “No. Said he didn’t know what difference it would have made and he didn’t want to lay that on Phillip. You know, him wondering if his wife was doing her ex, that kind of thing.”

  “I could see that.”

  Sondra chewed on what was left of the nail of her index finger. “What did you think of Phillip?”

  Cicely shrugged. “He seemed nice enough. I never thought he was her type though. If I’m being honest, I think Jack was her soulmate, but you know, it doesn’t always work out with your soulmate. Still, she seemed like she was really in love with Phillip.”

  “Did you like him? Phillip, I mean.”

  “Um… he was okay. I mean, it took me a while to warm up to him, but he seemed alright. Like I said, though, I wouldn’t have picked him for her, that’s for sure.”

  Sondra snorted. “That’s the same thing I said.”

  “He was… quiet, just… I don’t know. Just a different energy from Jack, which we were all used to and loved.”

  “In that letter he sent my mother, he went on and on and about what a great marriage he and Tracy had.”

  “Well, maybe it’s like you said, he was trying to protect you all from whatever was going on between them.”

  “I guess.”

  “Maybe they just realized that they had rushed into things,” Cicely said. “I mean they hadn’t even known each other a year when they got married.” Cicely picked up her wineglass. “Besides, she was probably too embarrassed to talk about any problems. Whatever they may have been. Of course she’s not here, so we can’t ask her.”

  Sondra picked up her glass. “There wasn’t anything in her journal either.” She paused. “Tell me about the last time you talked to her.”

  Cicely swallowed her wine before she spoke. “Well, we did the ten together that Thursday. And except for that business with the phone calls, she was fine. Anyway, she was taking a personal day on Friday, so we talked about that as we walked out together that night. She said if I wasn’t doing anything over the weekend to give her a call and we’d go catch a movie or something. I called her Saturday afternoon and got her voicemail. I called her again on Sunday when I hadn’t heard from her and left her another voicemail. Again, at the time, I didn’t think anything of it. Like she got busy with other stuff and forgot to check her messages. She wasn’t expected back to work until the following Monday. Sunday night, Phillip called and asked if I had talked to Tracy, because he had left her a few voicemails and she hadn’t called him back.”

  “Then what?”

  “The police were called and as you know, we did a few stories, Phillip came back, passed out flyers—we all did—and by the end of the week, we got the call her body had been found.”

  “What did he seem like?”

  “He was frantic, I mean just terrified something had happened to her. A total wreck.”

  “What did you tell the police about Phillip?”

  “That as far as I knew, he and Tracy were happy. He was cleared as a suspect almost immediately. He was in Milwaukee at that conference. Probably a hundred people saw him.”

  “Well, at this point, I don’t know what the hell to think. Maybe it’s like Gary said… I should just let Tracy go.” She paused. “Except I wanna talk to Jack again.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “I was wondering if you could pull the tapes of the coverage from Tracy’s disappearance. I’d like to look at them, maybe use them. I don’t know.”

  “Of course. I can have an intern pull them. Stop by any time after two and I’ll set you up in an editing bay so you can look at them. Station is just down the street from here, big red “four” out front. Can’t miss it.”

  Sondra smiled. “I remember. Cicely, thank you so much. For everything.”

  “You know, even though we weren’t related by blood, I felt as close to her as anyone in my own family.”

  Sondra sniffed, the all-too-familiar tears welling in her eyes. “She had that effect on people. Just made everyone feel… welcome.”

  Cicely lifted her glass in the air, and Sondra picked up her now replenished club soda.

  “To Tracy,” Cicely said.

  “To Tracy.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  When Phillip arrived home that evening to let Paula out of the bathroom, a fresh wave of tears had unleashed themselves down her already swollen face.

  Phillip crossed his arms, disgust smeared across his face. Paula continued to lay crumpled across the bathroom floor like a discarded winter coat in the dead of summer.

  “I would have thought you’d have this out of your system by now.”

  “I’m so sorry I keep disappointing you. I just, I love you so much and want to please you.”

  “Then why do you insist upon making things so difficult Paula? After everything I’ve done for you?”

  Paula nodded her head as if a puppet master was pulling a string. “You’ve been so good to me, I know—”

  “I’ve given you my life, given you a good life, certainly better than you would have had otherwise. And what do you do? Treat me like I mean nothing.”

  Paula’s eyes became big watery saucers. “No, no, you’re everything. My world, my reason for living.”

  “I gave up so much to be with you,” Phillip continued, as though he hadn’t heard Paula. “I had a wonderful life in Chicago. A loving wife who took care of me, a beautiful home.” Phillip looked at Paula and narrowed his eyes. “And then you came along—”

  Paula jammed her hands over her ears, knowing what was coming. “No please, stop it,” she whimpered as her head snapped left to right.

  Phillip dropped to his knees and buttoned his hands over Paula’s wrists before he wrenched them down by her sides. “And then you came along and threw yourself at me, begging me to take you back, telling me how much better you were for me than she was.”

  “Please—!”

  “And even aft
er I told you I was devoted to my wife, you kept coming at me, pleading and whining—”

  “Phillip, no!” Paula squirmed beneath Phillip’s grasp, the torrent of water still spurting from her eyes.

  Phillip’s voice plowed through Paula’s protests like a bulldozer. “And then you made her believe we were having an affair, made her want to leave me and when that wasn’t enough, you started stalking her, calling her, following her—”

  “Oh, God!”

  “And then you killed her! You followed her that night and you smashed that rock into her beautiful face and killed her!”

  Paula let out an anguished yelp and tried again in vain to twist away from Phillip’s rough grasp on her wrist and the ugly truth that had pushed past his lips.

  “But I had to! I had to kill her!”

  “And then because I felt sorry for you, I covered for you, kept you from going to jail, put you in the hospital instead. And all I asked in return was that you take care of me, be good to me.” Repulsed, Phillip flung Paula’s hands down until they hung by her sides like limp strands of spaghetti.

  Paula collapsed across the edge of the tub, her tears slippery against the fiberglass. Phillip had verbalized the worst nightmare of them all. She often saw herself running after Tracy that snowy night, her feet crunching into the fresh flakes. She had finally caught up to Tracy and swung her around to face her. The two women had argued and in a rage, Paula had pushed her down onto the ground and slammed that rock into Tracy’s face until she finally stopped screaming and writhing. Horrified by what she had done, Paula had called Phillip and begged him to help her. He had agreed, saying it was obvious Paula wasn’t well and he would take care of everything.

  And he had.

  But every day Paula was reminded of what she had done. Phillip had saved her life and she was determined not to let him down.

  Phillip was leaning against the doorjamb. “I think you should stay in here the rest of the night. Maybe that will teach you a lesson.” For the second time that day, Phillip slammed the door shut behind him and locked it with a strident click.

  TWENTY-NINE

  True to its name, Dive’s décor boasted an aquatic theme. There was a water wall separating the bar from the restaurant and water swirled beneath the light blue Plexiglas floors. The deep azure walls were interrupted by stark postmodern black and white prints of various water images. Each table was draped with crisp white linen tablecloths and small cobalt colored vases with white tea lights floating inside. Located in River North, a neighborhood renowned for its upscale restaurants, Dive had been a roaring success with its soul food tapas concept and its sister restaurant, Flow, tucked off the Magnificent Mile on St. Clair, had come on the scene a few years later as a wine bar. Both had made Jack Turner a rich man and a minor celebrity in Chicago.

  Sondra now sat inside the dimly lit restaurant waiting for her sister’s former boyfriend. Sondra checked her watch. She had called earlier and was told he would be in around eleven. It was now a few minutes past. As was her way, Sondra was growing impatient and let her gaze wonder across the vast expanse of blue as the staff bustled around her getting ready for the lunch rush. At eleven-fifteen, Jack came bounding through the door in full deal-making mode, cell phone glued to his ear, shades pulled down over his eyes, and talking a mile a minute. He was swathed in a cream linen shirt and trousers with black leather man sandals or mandals, as Sondra called them. He came to a dead stop when he saw Sondra sitting at the bar staring at him. He hung up and ambled over to where she was.

  “Sondra? Hey what are you doing here?”

  She ran her tongue across her teeth. “I’m in town for a few days. I need to talk to you and it’s important.”

  “Yeah sure, my office is in the back.”

  He motioned for Sondra to follow him, and she hopped down off the black iron bar chair. She jogged to catch up to Jack, who was unlocking the door of his office. He turned on the light and set his briefcase, keys and cell phone down on the tempered glass desk.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a straight back, hammered metal chair with a deep blue cushion. Jack pulled his desk chair around so that he was sitting face-to-face with Sondra.

  “So, what’s up?” he asked. “What brings you to town?”

  Sondra sniffed. “A few things. I saw Cicely Anderson last night.” She waited to see what kind of reaction she got from him.

  “How’s she doing? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  She pressed her lips together into a thin line. “I want to know what was going on with you and my sister.”

  Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Were you having an affair?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  “She was leaving her husband, Cicely said you told her you still loved Tracy and Tracy was going to file for divorce—”

  Jack held up his hands in protest. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a minute, she was getting a divorce?”

  “Yes, she was—”

  “Just what, exactly, are you getting at?”

  “Were you and Tracy having an affair?” Sondra repeated.

  Jack licked his lips and looked Sondra dead in the eye. “Not only no, but hell no.”

  “Cicely said Tracy had been getting a lot of phone calls that upset her right before she disappeared. Was it you?”

  “Sondra, I am telling you, there was nothing going on between me and Tracy. It’s like I told you, I ran into her, she said she was unhappy and that was it. That was the last time I saw her.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police?”

  “I already told you why.”

  “Where were you the night she disappeared?”

  Jack didn’t say anything, merely stared at Sondra. “Excuse me?”

  “How much did you want her back?” She licked her lips, drops of sweat snaking across her upper lip. She hadn’t intended to get so worked up, but the more she thought about things, the angrier she got. “Did you get so upset that you killed her? You blew your chance with her and so nobody could have her?”

  “How could you even ask me that?”

  Sondra looked at Jack, searching for any sign that he was lying. She saw nothing. She broke her gaze and let her head plummet to her chest.

  “I’m sorry, Jack, it’s just, when I found out she wanted to divorce Phillip and Cicely said you wanted her back… ”

  Jack looked up at the ceiling, trying to choose his words carefully. “Yes, I loved Tracy more than anything in the world,” he said. “I would never hurt her like that. We weren’t having an affair; we weren’t talking about an affair. Nothing like that at all. Before that last time, I hadn’t seen or talked to Tracy in over a year.” Jack brought his head back down and focused his eyes directly at Sondra. “And that night? I was here at the restaurant. I came in at three and didn’t leave until well after two a.m. Then I went home and slept for ten hours.”

  Sondra looked at Jack for a few moments. “Okay,” she said. “I believe you.”

  Jack looked down at the floor. “Thank you.”

  “I just want to know what happened to her. I need to know.”

  Jack shook his head. “You may never know.”

  THIRTY

  Paula had slipped out of bed quiet as a mouse. Phillip had finally let her of the bathroom, but not before he had forced her to her knees and made her tell him over and over how much she loved him before he allowed her to crawl into bed, limp as a rag doll.

  This morning, she was determined to show Phillip she was worthy of his love. She pressed his blazer four times, almost burning a hole into the thick fabric. She made him three slices of French toast instead of his customary two and four slices of turkey bacon rather than three. She just wanted to make him happy, because when he was happy, she was happy. She spread the peanut butter for his lunchtime pb&j sandwich across the fluffy white bread, mindful not to tear holes in the delicate slices. After packing Phillip’s lunch, Paula forced her trembling fingers to as
semble the breakfast food on the table. She waited for him to emerge from the master bedroom, her nerves tight as a drum. Finally, the door creaked open and she heard him pad across the abundant white carpet. He gave her a stern look before his eyes swept across the table.

  “I made extra breakfast this morning,” she said. “I hope it’s okay.”

  Phillip set a cold stare on Paula. “I’ve been forced to have fast food for my dinner the past few nights. You know how much I hate that.”

  Paula’s eyes dissolved into pools of water. “Oh, I am so sorry you had to do that. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “You will have to do a lot to earn my trust back, Paula. Are you prepared to do that?”

  “Oh, yes, anything, anything at all.”

  Phillip gave her a curt nod of approval. “Good. We can start today. I would like you to start by disinfecting the walls from top to bottom. Then scrub the tiles in both bathrooms with a toothbrush. Afterwards, I want you to sweep and mop the garage. And I still expect dinner to be on the table at six when I get home. If I find any of those things not to be done when I return, you will be punished.”

  Paula stood in front of her husband, her eyes bolted to the floor before she nodded her agreement. “Yes, dear. I will do all those things,” she whispered.

  Phillip threw back his shoulders. “I’m glad we understand each other. Oh. And one more thing. You will feed me my entire meal this morning.”

  Paula pinched her lips shut. “Yes, dear.”

  “Alright then. Now. Open wide.”

  Obediently, Paula held out her tongue for her vitamins and followed them with a glass of water. Phillip waited for Paula to seat him at the kitchen table. She started to pull up a chair next to him when he held out his hand.

  “Standing,” he said.

  With a plaintive inhale, she stood in silence next to Phillip and fed him each forkful of his breakfast. She managed not to spill anything and when he indicated he was done, she dabbed the corners of his mouth with the soft fabric of the white linen napkin she’d tucked into his collar. Paula went into the kitchen to retrieve the lunch she had made for Phillip, who stood by the closet, impatient for his blazer. She handed him his lunch and got the blazer out of the closet. As she started to put it on him, he grabbed it from her and held it up for inspection.