A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

  After their third date, Marly cornered her mother over breakfast. The best time to talk to Denise was when she was sober but hungover.

  “Mom, he’s another Harris. And he’s still your cousin.”

  “Well, so what? What do you expect me to do? I’m thirty-seven. I need someone to look after me,” her mother said. “And don’t go saying, ‘you need to look after yourself.’ How could I do that? Your father got me pregnant when I was fifteen with Charlene and then you came along. I didn’t finish high school. I couldn’t go to college. Rosie isn’t giving me any more money and my job pays shit.”

  “You built that cage yourself.”

  “Don’t you lecture me, kiddo. Wait until you’re my age and then we’ll see what kind of cages you’ve made for yourself.” Denise pushed back from the table and stalked to her usual perch in the living room.

  By April, Elliot had moved in. His diabetes medications, syringes, and equipment filled the bathroom cabinets, including the downstairs lavatory. Marly moved her personal items and makeup to her bedroom.

  Despite his reputation as a brutal enforcer for the Harris clan, Elliot was a significant improvement over Del in most regards. Due to his diabetes, he confined his drinking to outings with buddies at the Rock. He didn’t seem inclined to try to get Marly into bed.

  Elliot treated Denise to flowers and took her out to dinner on Valentine’s Day. He bought Denise a better secondhand car.

  What is the attraction? Yes, her mother was still pretty in a simpering kind of way, but she brought no assets to the relationship. Perhaps Elliot felt that he had to prove he was capable of filling Del’s shoes in every possible way.

  Despite her nerves and perhaps due to Elliot’s presence, winter and spring passed with no new threats or run-ins with the Harris crowd. Marly’s life wasn’t exactly without its ups and downs, but at least it seemed like what a normal life might be like.

  * * *

  Even with Elaine out of the running for valedictorian, Marly’s competition was stiff. She usually relied on her grades in math and sciences to stay ahead, compensating for slightly lower grades in English and writing-intensive courses. To her astonishment, Elaine’s mother, Helen, stepped in to look over Marly’s written homework, which helped close the gap. Marly could never remember Denise ever asking about school beyond the basic disciplinary and attendance issues. It never occurred to her to look to an adult for help with homework.

  After a respectable basketball season—second place in the regional finals—Marly looked forward to a break from intensive extracurricular activities, but was quickly swept up into the spring play, Our Town. Charon Springs bore no resemblance to Thornton Wilder’s idyllic setting, but her ability to memorize lines quickly earned her a leading role and an invitation to the senior prom from Sam, the leading man.

  Sam was an Avalon boy. Marly knew his upper middle class family didn’t approve, but he was attentive and sweet until another girl from Avalon caught his eye.

  All the while, the startup continued to grow. Even though she was theoretically just a part-time employee, the demands on her time kept expanding. She considered quitting on a daily basis. The best decision she had ever made was pulling in Elaine, who had a cool head and more than pulled her weight when it came to staying on top of conflicting demands.

  A tense, unrelenting, underground current continued to flow. Marly remained watchful and vigilant, counting down the days to the end of July when she would turn eighteen and blast off, college or not.

  Over the course of one week in April, three thick envelopes arrived addressed to Marly, each one offering her freedom, escape, and education. The last envelope came from Brown University.

  She blinked and rubbed her eyes to clear away her tears. Despite the pouring rain, she rushed outside and performed an ecstatic dance in their muddy parking area.

  Back inside, Marly studied the financial aid package from Brown. It was generous but wouldn’t pick up the entire tab. Even a part-time job wouldn’t take her far. She would need additional resources.

  Over her mother’s objections, she accepted Brown. Her new challenge was to figure out how she would move money from her stolen treasure, hidden in the Melvilles’ barn, to new accounts she could access. Perhaps one or two of the identities she had swiped could help, but she was in unchartered territory.

  Sometimes when the Melvilles weren’t home, she would sneak into their barn to count and recount her small fortune. An imaginary spreadsheet filled with opportunities that spelled escape. The routine exerted a hypnotic spell, releasing her anxieties so her mind could relax and regain a footing in logic and reason. All will be well. Stay focused. Be careful. All will be well.

  In early May, winter finally loosened its grip on Charon Springs and warm breezes filtered down into the valley. Buoyed by the sunshine, Marly hopped on her bicycle and outraced the clouds of black flies to the library for her Saturday afternoon shift.

  Mrs. Haas looked up and broke into a grin as Marly burst through the front door.

  “I haven’t seen you smile like that for months, Marly.”

  “It’s like the spring has unfrozen my brain. Mrs. Haas, I need help. I need a student loan and I don’t even know how to get to square one. Please.”

  “You sit and get settled. I’m going to get some iced tea first. This is going to take a while.”

  As Marly pedaled home for dinner, she ran through the calculations in her head. If she played her cards carefully, she would soon have the flexibility to make use of what she thought of as Del’s Dough.

  One final obstacle remained—Denise. Once Denise found out about the loan, she would want a piece of that action. Marly would have to swallow her pride and ask for help. Legal help.

  * * *

  Bob Melville had a beautiful law office in Syracuse, but he also had a small office in his house, which is where Andrea cornered him the following weekend, pulling a reluctant Marly with her.

  “Tell him,” Andrea said.

  “I won’t be eighteen until the end of July, but I’ve got money coming in from my student loan, plus our startup is doing better,” Marly said as she swayed from foot to foot. “I need to put that someplace where my mother can’t get to it so I can send checks to Brown. She already drained my account once last year. I can’t kick her off my current account or set up a new one.”

  Mr. Melville studied her. “We need to have you declared an emancipated minor. It’s straightforward. Let’s start the paperwork.”

  Marly said nothing to Denise or Elliot. Despite assurances and advice from Mr. Melville, she hoped that she might be able to fly under the radar on this one.

  Her luck ran out several weeks later.

  * * *

  Marly knew something was brewing by the way her mother was slamming pots around in the kitchen. Her mother never cooked.

  “Is something wrong?” Marly asked.

  “You want to be emancipated? You can just emancipate yourself right out of this house, young lady.”

  “I need to have a separate bank account for school. There will be a lot of money there for a very short period of time that needs to go straight to Brown.”

  “You don’t need to have a separate account for that. If it’s in a separate account, I can’t help you manage your money.”

  “You managed me right out of two thousand dollars last fall. I can’t afford that kind of help anymore.”

  “You owed me that. Raising kids takes money. And you should trust me. This looks terrible. I’m your mother!” Denise’s voice had risen to a shrill shriek.

  Marly rubbed her face with both hands. Fights with her mother were so illogical. Every time she backed Denise into a corner, her mother ran off with the argument in another direction and Marly ran right with her, down into the next rabbit hole.

  “You seem to forget that I did trust you and you took all my college money.” Marly tried to keep her voice level and not succumb to her mother’s tantrum, but it was a losing battle. “
If I go to college, I’ll be able to give you much more over time. I need that money now. Besides, no one will know, if you keep your voice down and don’t kick me out of the house.”

  “You should be sharing with me.”

  “That money is all spoken for.”

  “I need some for my wedding.”

  “Your what?” Marly felt as though someone had thrown cold water on her face.

  “Me and Elliot are getting married.”

  “You can’t marry him. You shouldn’t marry him. It’s too soon after Del.”

  “Since when did you ever give a fuck about Del?”

  “You and Elliot are cousins. That’s illegal.”

  “Elliot looked it up. We’re second cousins once removed and that’s not illegal in New York. So there, missy. We’re getting married on August twelfth, and right after, we’re going on a honeymoon to New York City.”

  “For how long?”

  “For how long what?”

  “How long will you be gone? You know I have to leave for college just a few days after that.”

  “Oh. Well, if you’re so smart that you can go to a fancy college, you can figure that out for yourself, Miss Emancipation Proclamation!” Denise turned her back on her daughter. The conversation was over.

  Marly stomped from the room, half hoping she would be kicked out. The argument had ended in a draw. Marly retained control of her money, and Denise retained the right to marry Elliot.

  * * *

  Denise stayed away for Marly’s graduation, despite the fact that her younger daughter would be the first in their immediate family to finish high school. The term “valedictorian” didn’t register with Denise, and it didn’t seem to matter that Marly would be giving a speech.

  Alone again, as usual, grumbled Marly to her herself on graduation day as she stood to present her upbeat and forgettable thoughts about high school and the future. That was when she saw Charlene and the kids plus Mrs. Haas, standing at the back. Helen Fardig gave an encouraging wave and the Melvilles signaled with a thumbs-up. Her favorite faculty members preened, congratulating themselves. Marly cleared her throat to speak.

  * * *

  Elliot and Denise were married in the United Church on August twelfth, followed by a sedate party at Carl’s house, sans Rosie, who had decamped in July for a two-to-three-year stint in prison following her plea bargain for the attacks on Elaine and Laurie.

  Marly gave her mother and Elliot $200 cash as a wedding present for their honeymoon. It was Harris money, after all.

  On the hot and steamy day before departure, Marly looked up from her packing to see Carl Harris enter the living room from the front door, off the covered porch. No one used that door except Carl and he never knocked.

  Carl scanned the grimy living room. “Your mother and Elliot are still on their honeymoon I guess.”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “I do like you, Marly, but having you here is not good for the family. I want you to stay away. Rosie, Louise, and Troy are in prison now, but they’ll be back. We can’t afford any more stupid viciousness.”

  “So solve that with them.” Marly edged her way toward the kitchen.

  “Stand still and pay attention, Marly. That’s not the way it’s going to work. You can stop by for a few days now and again, but don’t plant roots here. Stay up in Syracuse with Charlene if you need to.”

  “But you mean I can’t even visit?”

  “No buts.” Carl’s voice was flat as he fixed her with an emotionless stare. “Get out and stay away until you hear that they’re all dead. I wouldn’t count on that being anytime soon.”

  Marly stared back. Carl pointed a finger at her. “Just do it,” he said, and he turned to leave.

  18

  Vanessa: Loose Ends

  February 2–4, 2013

  A driving rain in forty-five-degree weather welcomed Jack and Vanessa to San Jose Airport. Their argument on transportation continued down to the luggage area.

  “Vanessa, it’s pouring. My car is in long-term parking. Let me give you a ride home.”

  Vanessa relented. She could have caught a cab and been home in twenty minutes. Instead they waited fifteen minutes for the long-term parking bus, bounced on their seats for another fifteen minutes as the vehicle snaked its way up and down the aisles in the parking lot, got soaked walking to Jack’s car, waited ten minutes to pay and leave the parking lot, and at last headed to the highway for the short ride to Mountain View.

  What’s wrong with this picture? Vanessa studied Jack’s profile outlined against the rain-streaked driver’s-side window.

  Vanessa had alerted her parents via cell phone, and they were waiting at the door as Jack pulled into the driveway.

  “Ay, hijita,” her mother said, wrapping her arms around Vanessa. “Cuanto te echaba de menos.”

  “I missed you too, Mom.” Vanessa answered in English for Jack’s benefit. “New York was beautiful but I don’t think you would have liked the weather. This is my colleague, Detective Jack Wong.”

  “Do you speak Spanish, Detective Wong?” asked her father as they shook hands.

  “Un poquito,” Jack said, holding the tips of his thumb and index fingers almost touching. “Please call me Jack.” He turned to leave. “I’ll see you on Monday, Vanessa.”

  Before Vanessa could wave her farewells, her mother jumped in. “Oh, you come here on Tuesday night. Always family night with good Colombian food on Tuesday night.”

  Jack shot a nervous glance at Vanessa. “Thank you so much. I’ll—uh—see if that could work out.”

  “You should let him know that it’s okay to come on Tuesday,” Vanessa’s father said as Jack pulled away.

  “Dad, he is not my boyfriend. He lives way over in Santa Cruz somewhere. We aren’t dating. He is a colleague.”

  “Un colega muy simpático,” her father said.

  Vanessa agreed. A very nice colleague indeed.

  * * *

  Monday morning Nick greeted Jack and Vanessa with a knowing grin. “Frostbite anyone? I’ve loved your reports, Nessa. They made me glad I live in the free state of California.”

  “Do you get back home often, sir?” Jack asked.

  “Only during the summer month.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jack’s face was expressionless.

  “Month. As in July. It’s a local joke, Jack. Clearly you didn’t spend enough time there.” Nick bent over his desk to dig through the stacks of papers. Jack snuck Vanessa a sideways glance and a wink.

  Nick handed a stack of paper to Vanessa. “We have some interesting news on the cell phone records. We’ve been able to pinpoint where Louise and Troy made most of their calls while they were here.”

  Vanessa reached for the reports and handed over the pages to Jack after she had glanced through them. She stopped at a printout of a map with a helpful X in the middle.

  “What you’ll see is that they made a lot of their calls to the phone number for a Rosalind Harris in New York from that location in the Santa Cruz Mountains. The property belonged to a woman named Angela Rodriguez at the time. It looks like there’s a cabin at that spot.”

  Vanessa rotated the map to get a better fix on the location, to no avail.

  “Even better,” Nick said. “The cliff where Louise and Troy went over? That’s owned by Miguel Rodriguez. Not our lovely heroine, Angela, but there is a Miguel Rodriguez who now owns the place with the cabin. But the best thing? Angela had some bad times twenty-odd years ago. She went East and tried her fortunes there. Things didn’t go so good, and about fourteen years ago, she found herself in prison, for criminal assault and selling meth. After her release, she came home. Lucky us.”

  Vanessa pawed through the pages. “She was Louise’s cellmate!”

  “Bingo!” Nick said, lifting his palms up with a flourish, as if to ask for applause. “I’m sure you’ll have some fun digging into that.”

  * * *

  Vanessa stared out the car window at the steep red c
lay banks that lined their twisted route up into the dripping redwood forest.

  “This is rather refreshing compared to slush and ice,” she said. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  Jack squinted at a faded road sign that had somehow folded itself in half. “More or less. The GPS keeps cutting in and out, so keep an eye on that good old-fashioned map.”

  After several more false turns down one-lane roads, they located the steep driveway that led to their destination—a double-wide tucked under the redwoods overlooking a rushing creek. Vanessa felt as though she had driven to the bottom of a deep well.

  The double-wide had seen better days, but sported a coat of fresh paint. A grayed redwood deck wrapped around the outside and provided below-ground accommodation for several large dogs of varying mixtures, who rushed toward the car, barking.

  “Their tails are wagging,” Jack said.

  “Their ears are back.” Vanessa made eye contact with the largest mutt, whose nose bobbed outside her window. She kept her seat belt buckled.

  She caught a movement from the direction of the creek bed. First a blond head and then the body of a man appeared as he climbed up to the level parking area. He clapped his hands twice and the dogs stopped barking and sat down.

  “Maybe we’re lunch,” Vanessa said, but she followed Jack’s lead and climbed out of the car.

  Jack flashed his badge. “Miguel Rodriguez?”

  “Mike,” said the giant.

  He looks tame enough. Mike had cultivated the mountain man look from the sixties and seventies. He had to be close to six foot three in his stocking feet. Under his hoodie and jeans he had a physique that looked suited for a TV wrestling career.

  Closer inspection showed that he was a bit too old for those possibilities. Vanessa took him to be about forty-five, maybe a bit older. But he was good-looking, no doubt about it. His skin looked clear, his eyes were bright blue, and his blond hair, laced with a few white strands, was thick and long, pulled back into a ponytail.

  Mike returned her appreciative look. “How can I help?”