Over His Dead Body

by Leslie Glass

  "I'm on Thorazine," Cassie told him, deadpan, disappointed that he was leaving.

  "Really?" He stopped short.

  "No, that was a smart remark."

  "Ha-ha. It was a good one, I'll remember it." He headed for the door.

  "Thank you."

  He was gone as suddenly as he had come, and Cassie sighed at the confusion he'd stirred up. She couldn't tell the good guys from the bad guys anymore. Parker Higgins and Ira Mandel had threatened. Charlie hadn't threatened. It was a nice change. And Cassie had always liked blue eyes. She felt the opposite of the relief she'd had whenever Mitch drove off.

  After Charlie was out of the house, an undercurrent of excitement hung around for a while. She'd been getting better about chewing her lip, but now she started gnawing on it again. She wondered if he was married, if his wife was pretty, if she knocked his socks off.

  CHAPTER 38

  "NO, YOU MAY NOT BRING YOUR GIRLFRIEND," Cassie told Teddy on the phone. She was using her reasonable voice, and it took all her energy to maintain it. It was the Friday of the Fourth of July weekend, and due diligence in Mitch's case was completed. The ethics committee of the hospital had concluded that the brain of Mitchell Sales had died a month ago, and it would no longer serve any useful purpose to sustain his body on life support.

  "Teddy, are you there?" she demanded.

  "Mommm, why can't Lorraine come? I thought you liked Lorraine." Teddy was whining in his office at Ira Mandel's accounting firm, where in addition to his basic job of bookkeeping, he was studying a bunch of difficult courses like calculus and linear programming at night and on the weekend to pass the two-and-a-half-day CPA examination of accounting, auditing, taxation, and other very sophisticated stuff. Ira had told her that only 10 percent of candidates passed, but he believed that Teddy would be one of them. For accountants, apparently, the CPA certificate was everything.

  "Liking Lorraine is not the point, Teddy, I want to talk to you and Marsha alone," Cassie told him. She was parked in her place at the kitchen table with an untouched cup of coffee in front of her.

  Today was their father's final day on this earth. She wanted her children in the same room with her when she told them.

  "Mommm, Marsha's bringing Tom, isn't she? You're making lunch for him."

  "It's just us, Teddy. And maybe Aunt Edith. I haven't decided."

  "Aunt Edith! Why not Lorraine?"

  "Aunt Edith is family, Teddy. Lorraine is not."

  "Lorraine's my girlfriend. Don't you like my girlfriend?" Teddy demanded.

  Cassie didn't want to scream her frustration and rage at Teddy into the phone. Lorraine was a hospital pickup! She was heavy. Cassie had nothing against heavy in general, but heavy like Lorraine on a person so young would mean the thirty-year-old Lorraine would be massive. She had no control over what she put in her mouth. In addition, Lorraine didn't have much going on between her ears. Lorraine was not cultured. She had an accent. A terrible accent. Worse than the Bronx, Brooklyn, and Queens all put together. This was the problem with Long Island. Her fingernails and toenails were long and painted blue or green or black. Cassie couldn't imagine how she was able to function in a hospital with nails like those. Plus, she didn't know how to cook. She ordered take-out on a regular basis. What kind of life would that be for someone like Teddy? Cassie didn't simply dislike Lorraine, she loathed her. Call her a snob. Call her shallow. Except for the weight, Mona had been just like her!

  "Mommm," Teddy whined.

  Cassie took a deep breath. She didn't want to say she hated Lorraine and feared that the fat, callow girl would transform her son the way the ugly, tasteless, fawning, scheming doormat, Mona, had transformed her husband.

  "Teddy, I'm on my way out now. I want to see you at the house at noon. Leave now if you have to." Cassie ended the call, stood up, and moved to the sink to dump the coffee down the drain.

  An hour and a half later, Cassie told Teddy and Marsha that their father was scheduled to die any minute, and Teddy suddenly stopped agitating for lunch.

  "Are you going with me?" she asked. She'd hoped that they would act as a family, but it was up to them. When she dropped the news, they were sitting outside on the patio in a tight little circle around the wrought-iron table they'd always used for picnics. Cassie had asked Teddy to put up the umbrella to shade her face. As soon as he did, a cloud drifted over the sun, and the shade around them deepened to twilight.

  For once the contentious children were too stunned to squabble. Teddy and Marsha divided their attention between each other and her. Around them was the fragrant backyard that had been their childhood haven: perfect green grass in the small lawn. Blooming lilies in all the borders. They were thinking the same thing. Mitchell Sales, their daddy, the end. Their mood was gloomy.

  It wasn't as if they weren't prepared. Still, death coming on them like this, during a lunch break, was so final, there seemed nothing to say. Teddy studied a worm that had fallen into the pool. The worm must have died yesterday, because already it had faded to tan, bleached by the chlorine. He switched his attention to his shoes. They were the same Italian loafers his boss, Ira Mandel, wore. Suddenly Marsha, who'd taken the day off from her internship in the women's jail on Riker's Island, began weeping quietly.

  "Tom didn't tell me Daddy was dying today. Does he know?" She was wearing her jail outfit: black pants, black T-shirt. No makeup. She looked pretty good except for the tears streaking her face.

  Cassie felt sorry for her. Until now, Marsha had been detached, almost as if the double catastrophe of her mother's crazy face-lift and her father's crazy stroke both occurring practically at the same time was a kind of parental acting out that would eventually come to a peaceful end as hers always had. Now it wasn't clear whether the loss of her father or the fear of death itself was getting to her.

  When Cassie was her age, she'd already been married for several years and had a little girl. She'd thought she was a grown-up, had life all figured out. She watched Teddy's knee bobbing, his foot shaking. It seemed as if his whole body was in motion. These days, twenty-three was infancy, and twenty-five was not much older. Marsha worked with unwed teenage mothers, inmates in prison. What did she know about any of that?

  "I don't know, honey. We haven't spoken," she murmured.

  "But he's been great, hasn't he?" Marsha sought approval for the skinny young neurologist she never would have liked had her father not been felled by his specialty.

  Cassie shook her head.

  "Don't you think he's great, Mom?" Marsha persisted.

  "He's great, Marsha, but what about Daddy?" Cassie asked.

  Marsha sneaked another look at Teddy. He glared back at her.

  "I don't know about you, but I don't want to watch the bastard croak," Teddy said harshly.

  "Teddy, he's your father!" Marsha snarled, her mood shifting from sorrow to barking indignation in an instant.

  "Fuck you, Marsha," Teddy tossed off.

  "Fuck me, Teddy. You're the one he loved. You were Daddy's boy."

  "Oh right, Daddy's boy." Teddy snorted.

  "The least you could do is stand by him now… You were everything to him." Marsha shifted into that bratty singsong voice that always drove Teddy nuts.

  Teddy made the noise of a fart. The two of them balled their fingers into fists, and sibling rivalry erupted into a fight. Cassie was glad she'd isolated herself from them in the last few weeks since she'd found out Teddy was friends with Mona. The hole in her chest opened up. Her own kids had no thought of standing by her.

  "Oh? Oh? Who went with him everywhere?" Marsha taunted.

  "Oh Marsha, you had it easy. He left you alone," Teddy parried.

  "He wouldn't let me do anything I wanted," she whined.

  Teddy made more farting noises. "Like what did you want?"

  "I wanted to be a pilot. I wanted to fly," she said plaintively.

  "Oh shit, not that again." He kicked a clay pot with a perky red geranium in it. The pot went over, cr
ushing the biggest bloom. Cassie was shocked.

  "Daddy said girls can't fly," Marsha sniffed, still smarting over the ancient injury.

  "Who'd want to fly? Those things go down all the time." Unable to move, Cassie clicked her tongue at the downed geranium. Why had she brought them here? She hated her kids.

  "You're all against me," Marsha's voice regressed to age ten.

  "No, sweetheart. No, don't think that way. He loved you," Cassie defended by rote, assuring her daughter even now that her father had loved her.

  "He said I'd get PMS and crash the plane," Marsha wept.

  "I know, honey."

  Teddy didn't want to hear any more of this. "I'm telling you, you had it easy. Daddy followed me everywhere, even into the bathroom."

  "So what?"

  "What's twenty-five times eighty. Quick, Teddy, multiply, don't think. He'd stick his finger in my chest, yell at me to pee and multiply like a man."

  "No one cares, Teddy," Marsha said. She was so cold, the tears could have frozen on her cheeks.

  "Marsha, that's not true." Cassie jumped to Teddy's defense. She couldn't help defending. It was her nature. "I care," she said.

  "I never knew which to do first. If I peed, he'd scream at me for missing. Every single day! In college he was still grilling me at the urinal."

  "You flunked all your fucking tests, you dope," Marsha snickered at the direct hit.

  "I didn't want to do it, you bitch. Did it ever occur to you he made me do it? He wouldn't let me fail!" Now Teddy was in tears, and Cassie was shocked even more. What was the matter with them?

  "He took you into the business, didn't he?" Marsha spat out.

  "Making me work for fucking Ira, you think that's a treat? The shit that goes down there, you wouldn't believe." Teddy kicked another pot. Over it went. This one broke, scattering pot shards and dirt.

  "What shit?" Cassie asked, distracted for a moment by business.

  Teddy looked away. "Nothing."

  "What shit?" Marsha demanded.

  "I said, nothing."

  "You know everything, Teddy. Give," Marsha hissed.

  Teddy shook his head.

  The opening Cassie had been waiting for had finally come. She licked her lips. "Teddy, you were Daddy's boy. And you were Mona's boy. That's hurt Marsha and me a lot. Did you ever think about that?"

  "I didn't mean to." Teddy shook his head. He didn't want to go there.

  "Teddy, your loyalty to the family has been tested. We know where you stand," Marsha said bitterly.

  Ah, now it was coming out.

  "She was always very nice to me," he said defensively.

  "Oh come on, they were fucking in the bathroom," Marsha retorted angrily.

  Cassie reeled. "What?"

  "I didn't know that." Teddy looked guiltily at his mother.

  "Oh come off it. You had to know it. They couldn't keep their fucking hands off each other. I've known it since I was thirteen. Oops." Marsha glanced at her mother. "Sorry."

  "Asshole!" Teddy barked.

  "You didn't tell me." Cassie stared at her daughter.

  "Oh, you know Daddy. He always denied everything." It was Marsha's turn to look away.

  "Marsha!" Cassie grabbed her daughter's arm.

  "He gave away my piano, Mom."

  "I know, but Marsha!"

  "He gave it away. Just like that. I said I knew what he was doing, and that day I came home and it was gone." Marsha shook her head. "He didn't think I'd ever be good."

  Cassie nodded sadly. Marsha had cried for weeks. Cassie had been dumb enough to think it was about the piano.

  "Every time I complained about Mona, he grounded me. He said I was a big fat pig and he'd never buy me a car. When I was in high school, he told me if I told you any lies about Mona, he'd cut me out of his will."

  Teddy held his palms up in denial. "I didn't know about this. I really-"

  "Of course you fucking knew." Marsha rolled her eyes.

  "I thought she was a nice lady. She always defended me when he was a shit." Teddy was breathing heavily now, sweating. The front of his shirt was soaked. He looked at the dead worm at the bottom of the pool, almost white.

  The sun came out again, blindingly bright. Cassie blinked. No one suggested they hurry to the hospital. She wondered if her children were afraid the family that bore Mitch's name would terminate when he did. The family's strength and power to protect and keep them safe had disappeared a long time ago, and she felt guilty. She'd always believed she was the only one to suffer in the marriage. It never occurred to her that Mitch had abused his children, too. All this time she'd just stood by. She'd let him.

  "That's why I gave you the pajamas that day, why I was so mad at you for getting a face-lift," Marsha was saying.

  "What?" Cassie was reeling again.

  "I knew it wouldn't make any difference. He was in love with Mona. I thought you'd figure it out. Daddy never gave you anything like that."

  Cassie's mouth fell open. "Marsha!"

  "I couldn't tell you, Mom. I just couldn't. I'm sorry." Marsha sniffed, then leaned over and put her head on Cassie's shoulder. "I love you so much, Mom, I couldn't."

  Cassie gulped. "Marsha, would you like to see your piano now?"

  Marsha lifted her head. "My piano?"

  "Well, Daddy bought Mona a house-" Cassie began.

  "Teddy, do you know about this?" Marsha interrupted.

  "What do you think I am?" Teddy asked miserably.

  "I think you're a little fuck," Marsha announced.

  Teddy opened his mouth and closed it.

  "Teddy, you knew about this, didn't you?" Cassie said.

  "She paid for the house, Mom," Teddy said in Mona's defense.

  "Teddy, she did not pay for the house. I'd like to show you the house." Cassie got to her feet and smoothed her skirt. Mitch was dying, and no one wanted to say goodbye. Fine.

  "Now? Isn't that a little crass?"

  "Suddenly you have qualms, Marsha?"

  "No, I just…" Marsha glared at her brother. "Fuck."

  "Get in the car, kids. Don't fight anymore. I want to show you the little surprise your father and Mona had planned for me."

  The two exchanged uneasy glances. "Do we have to?" Teddy whined.

  "Yes."

  Groaning, Marsha got up from the table and threw her backpack over her shoulder. Teddy's stomach rumbled loudly because it was way past one and he was used to eating a big lunch. They trudged into the garage.

  "Where's the Volvo?" Teddy demanded when he saw only the Porsche and the Mercedes.

  "I've upgraded." Cassie got into the Mercedes and slammed the door, thinking about her pathetic old Volvo that used to live outside in the driveway. All she'd gotten for the damn thing was a thousand dollars. How had money become so important? She was positively drowning in thoughts she'd never had before. She'd never cared that much about money, never thought about it. Except she'd always thought she'd be rewarded for sticking with Mitch and someday she'd have a lot of it.

  "Do you think Daddy's dead yet?" Teddy whimpered.

  Marsha punched him in the arm. "Shut up, Teddy."

  Marsha took shotgun in the passenger seat next to her mother. Teddy sat in the back. Neither said anything as they drove out of their pleasant development to Northern Boulevard, then turned east to Glen Cove, and finally across Duck Pond Road.

  "She was moving here?" Marsha was surprised.

  Cassie slowed the car to a stop in front of the garish giant black and gold painted gates with the Sales logo of grape bunches, wine barrels, fleurs-de-lis, and crossed fucking swords.LE REFUGE was painted in gold on a green estate sign.

  "Holy moly." Teddy whistled.

  "That's the ugliest fucking thing I have ever seen," Marsha pronounced judgment on the gates.

  Now Cassie was sure she was doing the right thing. She wanted her children on her side. She wanted them to feel Mona's evil, to know who their father had been. She pulled into the approach and ke
pt quiet as the luxury car she hadn't been allowed to drive until now cruised up the hill, passing the majestic oaks lining the drive. Her gut tightened just as it had the first and second times she'd come to the place where her husband was planning to live when he left her. The house hadn't been difficult to find. The address was on all those ABC Carpet and Home delivery slips.

  "Holy moly," Teddy said again when the castle came into view.

  They covered the last thousand feet or so of driveway and stopped in front, right next to the sporty red Jag parked there.

  "This is the ugliest house I have ever seen. Look at that turret," Marsha pronounced judgment on the house, craning her neck for a better look.

  "Mom, she's here," Teddy said uneasily.

  "She won't show herself," Cassie said.

  "But what if she does?"

  "Go key the car, Teddy. I always hated the bitch," Marsha commanded.

  "What's that?" Cassie asked.

  "You know, make scratches all over it with a house key," Marsha said.

  Teddy giggled nervously. "You really want me to?"

  "I'll stand behind you in case she's watching," Marsha promised.

  "Go key it yourself," Teddy said.

  Cassie killed the engine and got out of the car. "Come on, kids. I want you to see something."

  "I don't want to see any more. It's a horrible house, terrible taste. Key the car, Teddy, and let's go." Marsha's lips were tight. "That bastard." About her dad.

  "Get out, Teddy," Cassie ordered.

  "I don't want to key the car, Mom. What if she calls the cops?"

  "Get out, Teddy. You're not keying anything."

  Teddy groaned and dragged himself out of the backseat. "Okay, okay."

  They all got out and stretched. The stone house had two turrets and huge leaded windows in the living room and dining rooms. French doors beckoned to patios without furniture. In spite of the Jag out front, it had a forlorn and empty look about it. They walked slowly around the house, and Marsha's breath caught at the view down to the pool, the guest house, and tennis court. She was dead silent when she walked back to the French doors and pressed her nose to the glass.