Cheers and applause accompany each of her announcements. I don't join in. I have no idea how I feel because I am numb with shock. From the detail, the agreement sounds altruistic, as though Memé understood all the nuances. I have only known my mother as a very sick woman so I really have no idea if she had been capable of following such concepts.
Did Karoline know about this plan?
Slowly I realize that the gang of men is lifting Memé in the air for everyone to see and praise. My mother looks very uncomfortable though she keeps her crooked smile in place. Her oxygen tank dangles at one point, pulling her head sideways. Though Viho readjusts everything, my heart races and I move close to her.
I notice that everyone is staring at me. Do they know that I am the witch who burned Vryheid to the ground?
I have to get out of here. I am afraid, confused. Ashamed. Fortunately, before I behave like a cornered animal, the group safely lowers my mother and carries her once more to anonymity at the back.
I can't see Melody or her husband or Viho. I feel abandoned. Memé continues to wave. People come up and clasp her hand in awkward shakes. They all look at me, smile and nod, but don't approach me. Might it be the look of terror and unwelcome on my face? Or the fact that I am the destroyer of the village of peace?
Viho is suddenly at my side. I try not to collapse with gratitude.
"I want to leave," I say instead, imperious Ice Queen slightly back in place. "I can't find Dee and Tommy, but that's okay. My sister and I can handle everything today."
"Of course. Turns out one of our drivers had a breakdown. I'm actually happy you have to go cuz now I can help him out. He's got stranded clients and our emergency mechanic won't get out there for a while."
He doesn't sound happy about leaving immediately but I figure that's due to the fact that he won't be able to hang around with Miriam.
"You should call my sister, Viho. She likes you, too. And she's quite single right now. Snap her up before someone else does."
He doesn't bother to deny it. As he pushes Memé along the wooden pathway, he turns to grin at me.
"Thanks, I will."
I can feel Memé's exhaustion. I can see it in the droop of her hands and head. We have completely tired her out. I can't wait to get her tucked into her own bed. I'm anxious to see if Dembi has calmed down. We'll have time to deal with the paintings, not to mention the donation of Vryheid. I don't notice the scenery this time. The roads feel rough and long.
At last we pull up to the farmhouse. Now baking in a sun directly overhead, the farmhouse is protected only by the lush leaves and fat branches. Once we are on the porch and have Memé through the door, Viho has to leave.
"You're sure you're okay?"
"Of course. Miriam and Dembi are here. Go help those stranded people. And don't forget to phone."
He flashes that grin again and charges back to his vehicle.
Memé's steady breathing tells me she's asleep. I try to be quieter than usual as I maneuver her up the hallway. I don't call out for my siblings so I won't disturb our mother but I do wonder why they haven't heard us. I also remember the malfunctioning phone. I'll have to go out again if it's still not working. I need to know when Ethan will be here.
As a result of the pleasure that tingles through me when I think about Ethan, I am smiling to myself as I near the parlor on my left. Preoccupied with my own thoughts my brain does not register the scenario at first.
Miriam sits on the sofa closest to my vision. Her face is pale and pinched. Her hands, clasped in her lap, visibly tremble. Dembi rocks beside her. His head appears intermittently as he bends forth, then back. The low keening would surely be louder if it weren't blocked by the large piece of duct tape over his mouth.
I don't react until I see the third person in the room. He overwhelms the crowded space. A big, flabby figure with jet-black skin, he's a classical menace as he waves the huge gun in my siblings' direction. I let out a screech as Glenn Simpson turns his attention on me.
Dear Diary,
Do you think certain traits run in families? Do we inherit madness or talent or goodness? Or is that our upbringing? I know some psychologists have talked about this forever. The old nature-nurture debate. I wonder if it's true that the reason no one can figure this out is because it's a 50/50 thing.
Chapter 26
Memé jerks awake. "Diable. Diable."
Her voice is louder than I've ever heard it. Even Glenn hears her.
"I heard that diss, Memé dear."
He notices my face as I step toward him. I put Memé behind me. She begins to rock, too. I'm terrified that she'll collapse from the stress.
"Hey, nigga, never thought you'd see me again, did you? I'm living proof that your sorry ass is nigga, too. I introduce my real self to you and the rest of the happy clan. I am Glenn Simpson, born Johnston, given away at birth to a New York cousin." He waves the gun.
"Annie, I got my finga on da triggah so sit your fine tight ass down heah and listen reeeeeal goooooht."
"You don't have to use that stupid talk with me, Glenn. I know you're not stupid."
He puts his big ugly head back and laughs in a high-pitched, delighted guffaw.
This ugly asshat cartoon is our fucking bro?
"I'll sit down after I put Memé to bed. She's harmless. She's dying. What does it hurt to let her rest?"
The stupid grin doesn't leave his face but he drops the black slang.
"Oh, the lady has balls. Sweet Karoline was wrong. She figured you for a spineless self-absorbed idiot."
He steps close, his rancid breath in my face. He bends down slightly to touch Memé's hand. She flinches.
"Poor dear mother. Slut of the century. Nobody would wanna fuck that nowadays, would they? The old lady can see, though. She noticed my little nightly sojourns. Called me Diable right from the start. What a way to treat a son! No wonder I'm fucked up."
Open doors. Footsteps in the night. My mother's whispers about the devil. All warnings that I didn't figure out because I am still that self-absorbed idiot. But spineless I am not. I focus on the memory of Glenn's flabby ass as he fucked my friend. Ridiculous and repugnant in his nudity, he becomes a cartoon in my mind. Not a person to fear.
"Little sis, you must know I can't let you take Memé to lie down. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do but I'm sure you're aware I'm not a gentleman. However…" he draws the word out as he gestures for me to sit, "have a chair while we wait for my friends to arrive. Then maybe we'll talk about our dear mother's comfort."
Friends? What friends?
Without a word I obey. I wheel Memé by my side as I perch on the edge of a chair.
"I'm sure you know I can't let you go into a room by yourself. I'm your own bro but you still might bring back a weapon. Smack me over the head. Stab me. We are not a very nice family, are we?"
I look over at Miriam. Tears spill down her cheeks but her eyes are steely. She won't roll over easily either.
Dembi is terrified. He whimpers and rocks. I notice that he sits on his hands. Glenn probably forbade him to flap.
Now I can see that a fat chain winds through their legs and over their ankles. Bound like slaves a hundred years ago.
The gun is enormous. Although I am from L.A., where a gun can be had at the local department store, I am not familiar with them. I've never owned one. In Bell Canyon we had hunting rifles inherited from Granddad, but we never used them that I know of. Maybe it was the Canadian in us. I wonder how the hell Glenn got that thing over the border. Don't they check for weapons anymore?
I avert my thoughts away from its fearful threat. I can't allow it to silence me.
"You have friends? Somehow I doubt that."
"Oh you'd be surprised, little sis. In fact I am sure you'll be downright shocked when they walk through that door. Didn't Sweet Karoline teach you not to trust anyone?"
"How did you find Karoline?"
"She found me, my dear. Such a little ferret. She even looked like one,
don't you think? Did all this research into slut mama's offspring. It was her idea not to tell you who I was. I didn't even know who I was until she told me."
He seems to think this is an enormous joke. Maybe it is. The joke's on me, as they say.
He gestures to something on the side table that I haven't noticed. When I recognize the paint box, my heart pounds. Not with fear—with rage. Ice Queen comes in handy now and then. She's got anger inside that has never fully been released. Not yet, I tell her, not yet. Though we have to do something before reinforcements arrive.
Glenn picks up a small blue leather diary from inside the box and waves it in my face.
"It's all here, Sisters. Karoline was a great little record keeper, I must say. She just loved dissing her friends behind their backs. You should read it some time."
He throws the book onto the floor and rests the cold barrel of the gun on my cheek. I can't stop the shivers from racing through me. My body wants to flee.
"Why'd you kill her, beee-atch? We had a good thing, Sweet Karoline and me."
"I didn't kill her, asshat. You did. You drove her to jump over the balcony."
He looks a little disconcerted. I must have hit a nerve.
"She wouldn't do that. She loved me. We had the whole scheme in place. The treasure. We'd'a bin rich. Being rich all alone is not as much fun. Karoline woulda bin my white slave."
He looks over at Miriam, who has stopped crying. She has her hand on Dembi's arm, comforting him. His rocking is less frantic.
Glenn leers at Miriam.
"Maybe a little sister love would work instead."
"Why did you have to involve Dembi in your stupid scheme?"
"You oughta know the answer to that one, bitch. You came here and looked for the treasure, too. All I had to do was tell Dembi I'd drown him and Memé in the river and he was more than willing to help out."
"I take back what I said before. You are stupid."
The cloud of anger on his face makes me wonder if I've gone too far, but I keep going. I bet on his cowardice. There is no way he'll shoot me. He's a fat lazy pig who couldn't be bothered with the mess. He might even be afraid of blood.
"There's no treasure. It's a myth. Dembi did it for fun."
I can see Dembi shift on the sofa. Now I'm somewhat happy that the duct tape prevents him from speaking. He looks as though he wants to contradict me.
"Not the gold, you jerk. The CoJons. They're worth a fortune. They're the treasure. Karoline made a mistake taking them a few at a time. She didn't want to flood the market and make the art world suspicious. I told her we shoulda taken them all and put them in storage."
"Why didn't you do that then?"
"When you killed her I went back to L.A. I had to see her one more time. Of course you had to take her off to that hick town she hated, so I never saw her. We had saved up some cash so I stayed in the city. For a while I just lost interest in everything."
Maybe in his own twisted way he had loved Karoline.
"Then you decided to take a little trip here. I was running out of money by then, so I figured I'd come up and have some fun as well as cash in on the rest of the loot. That's why I called our friends to help. I planned to get rid of the old lady and then we'd clear out the place. You had to mess things up when you turned the old crow's oxygen back on."
He waves his hand over the room.
"This place is thick with antiques. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. There's so much crap in here that Karoline and I took stuff and no one even noticed. Last week I made myself a nice bedroom in the back and nobody knew that either."
His flabby face is almost purple. I imagine the stress of trying to manage all this subterfuge without his master planner.
"I had so much fun these last few days. Hiding on you, behind you. All I needed to do was wear black, tiptoe on stockings and not smile. Nobody could see me."
He followed this statement with raucous laughter. The vibrations of his insanity zing through me. Glenn Simpson had been more of a catalyst in the destruction of Karoline than I'd even dreamt.
I consider the open doors, the sounds and shadows, my fears at night. My mother's constant warning about Diable. He was here all along. I shiver.
"But Memé saw you, didn't she? And Dembi knew you were here. He hid the rest of the CoJons on you. Memé forced herself to speak so she could warn us. Dembi kept changing hiding spots and leading you on a wild goose chase."
"I must've been a little lax with Memé's special medication. You can't give too much or it's game over too soon. I scared Dembi these last couple of days, though. Even at the powwow all I had to do was peek out from behind the benches. What a moron. Slaps himself in the head better than I ever could." Again, he laughs as though his remarks are incredibly hilarious.
"Face it. You were fooled by people you consider inferior! People you trusted to do what you wanted because they are simple and can be easily threatened. Didn't Sweet Karoline teach you not to trust anyone?"
He reacts violently to my sarcasm and slaps me. Hard. I have never been hit like that before. A high-pitched ring sears through my head. My eyes blur and my cheek stings.
Glenn's face becomes mottled with anger. His eyes blaze out at me. For the first time I am afraid that he might overcome his indolent nature and really shoot me.
"I loved her. We were going to be rich. Together. Don't blame hiding the paintings on our poor moron brother. You did it."
He kicks the paint box.
"I found this under your bed. When my friends get here, expect to show me the rest."
While he's focused on the box at his feet Memé surprises us. Somehow she pushes on the wheels. The slight incline in the old floor causes the chair to move abruptly forward. It catches Glenn in the back of his knees. He's already off balance, his kicking leg still bent. The weight of Memé and her chair pushes him face forward onto the floor.
I leap to my feet. Grab the first thing I see. The solid old statue of St. Joseph is so heavy that it falls onto Glenn's prone figure almost of its own accord. It glances off the top of his head. Blood spurts out but I know he's just stunned. Eventually he'll be able to get back up. I almost regret that I haven't killed him.
I kick the gun as hard as I can. It bumps up against the sofa.
"The key to the chain is in his pocket," Miriam yells. "It's the little one."
I quickly check our mom. She grins up at me. "Diable."
"You got him, Memé!"
Glenn writhes a bit on the floor, moaning, but I find his keys right away. The little one for the chain is one of dozens. Luckily its size gives it away.
Miriam and Dembi shake off the heavy shackles. Miriam's ankle bleeds a bit but she says she's okay. She bends and picks up the gun as though it has a disease. I gently remove the duct tape on our brother's mouth while our sister hugs Memé. I pick up the telephone. The same dead air greets me.
We don't hear the footsteps in the hallway but Glenn does. He's still not able to get up. He clutches his head and tries to roll to a sitting position. He must have felt the vibration of the floor as someone approached the parlor.
"My friends are here."
His voice is a squeak of pain. I'm right. He's a coward and a sissy. But will his friends be different?
The figure in the doorway is tall. His silver-streaked hair sticks straight up and his deep blue eyes blink at me from behind large glasses. He's ugly and beautiful at the same time.
I am about to run into his arms when a chill freezes me in my steps. Is Ethan one of Glenn's friends? Is that why he's been pretending to love me? Was it about money all along, cash that didn't belong to his parents, a way to be independent?
Dear Diary,
Is money the root of all evil? Or is it the lack of money that drives people to commit crimes? I've always thought that if you were already happy, a lot of money couldn't hurt. Like marrying for money, not love.
Chapter 27
"What the hell's going on here?"
Ethan's policeman voice thunders well above Glenn's moans and Dembi's whimpers.
There's something in his tone. Anger. Shock. Protectiveness. Love.
I get to him in two long leaps. He wraps his arms around me. How could I even have thought for one minute that he would betray me? Insecure with the new Anne, I relapsed into one huge moment of doubt. I burst into grateful tears.
Dembi begins to flap and screech. Glenn sits up.
Miriam hands the gun to Ethan. "This man tried to kill us."
"I did not." Glenn's voice is whiny. "I only had the gun so I could scare them. I wouldn't have shot them."
Ethan lets me go. He yanks Glenn up by the arm as though he is a featherweight and pushes him onto the sofa.
Dembi moves to stand beside Memé. He's quiet now. He can see that the other man, the one I've been hugging, is in charge and easily handles Glenn. Dembi's eyes are round and dilated but his hands are still. I quell my tears for his sake.
"Well, I imagine threatening with a gun is just as much against the law here as it is back in L.A. You go to jail for that, buddy."
There's a noise at the door. We all turn and gape at Melody and Tommy. In response they gape back at us. The gun in Ethan's hand captures most of their attention.
"You're a little late," Glenn says.
I glance at Glenn then focus back on Dee. I am breathless, aghast. We had welcomed this woman into our home. Betrayal makes my heart pound again. I work hard to replace the anguish with rage.
"You are Glenn's friends?"
"How could you, Dee?" Miriam's face is ashen.
At least Melody's expression is one of shame and fear. She might have some morals somewhere. She looks as though she's about to say something but Ethan doesn't allow her to speak.
"Nobody say anything. Dee, you sit over here. You—whoever you are—sit there."
Tommy is obviously weak with distress. He collapses in the chair. His wife sits straight, head lowered. Silent tears stream down her face.
"I'm a police officer in L.A. Though I've got no jurisdiction here I've certainly got the citizens' right to detain you until we can get the locals on scene. Has anyone called them?"
Sweet Karoline Page 24
