Marriage Made Me Do It

by Ashley Fontainne

Detective Tuck reached the next phase of bad cop. Red flushed his cheeks as he stood and yelled: “Mrs. Davenport! We found traces of blood on your bathroom floor and guess what? It came back as AB negative, which is the same blood type we found on Coco Shock. Your vehicle has been cleaned recently, and though it’s too degraded for a sample, we did find traces of blood. A knife is missing from your kitchen—the same type and size of knife, mind you, used to stab your husband and Ginger Holloway to death inside her apartment. We’ve got statements of your erratic behavior from people who know you and we have the journal. Pages full of words written by you detailing the murders and also your plans to exact revenge on your sister by sleeping with her husband. Talk to me!”

  You forgot the remains of my sister’s boyfriend rotting in the ground at Eternal Slumber Acres, hot shot. If you’ve got it all figured out, Detective Tuck, why do I need to say anything? Jesus, Reginald, please get here before I snap!

  “You were a busy woman last night, Mrs. Davenport. And smart. You had it all planned out and executed it perfectly, right down to changing clothes after killing Coco Shock and then heading downtown on the bus in a fresh pair. Where are both sets of clothes, Roxanne?”

  First name again? Make up your mind, copper!

  “Where’s the knife? The empty bottle of sleeping pills we know you had a prescription for? Cooperate with me, Roxanne. Come clean and tell me your side of the story while I’m still interested in hearing it. If you do, I’ll ask the prosecuting attorney to not seek the death penalty.”

  Death penalty? Oh, now there’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear someone say to and about me! Wow, I didn’t even know our state still had that rule on the books! Didn’t that barbaric practice end centuries ago? Good heavens, I’m letting this smarmy detective get to me. That was a good scare tactic but it won’t matter because I honestly can’t answer your questions, Detective Dickhead, because I don’t remember.

  To bring his point home and attempt to break my will, Tuck pulled out a photo from the folder. He slammed it down in front of me.

  Sure enough, there it was, plain as day in the image. Though a bit grainy, the picture was clear. There I was, getting on the bus dressed in black leggings, black hooded sweatshirt, sunglasses covering my eyes.

  Oh, shit. I broke. “Lawyer. Right now.”

  “Fuck!” Detective Tuck yelled while slamming his fist into the wall. Without giving me another glance, he stormed out of the room. Seconds ticked by, my gaze was locked onto the picture, the infernal buzzing inside my mind back.

  There it was, right in front of me—the undeniable proof of last night’s activities.

  The door opened and Reginald Greenwood walked in. Dressed to perfection, looking every part the shyster lawyer; I felt my breath leave my lungs. The shakes set in.

  “Please tell me you didn’t say anything,” Reginald whispered after sitting down across from me. He opened his briefcase, extracting a yellow legal pad.

  “No, I didn’t, except to ask for you,” I choked out in a raspy whisper.

  “Thank God!”

  “Please tell me you smoke? I’m dying for one.”

  Reginald shook his head. “You’re in a world of trouble, Roxanne. A world of trouble”

  “I’m in more than you know, Reginald.”

  Reginald’s thick eyebrows raised in confusion. “Explain that statement. Right now.”

  You really should consider taking a different tone with me, counselor. I’ve just been charged with not one, or two, but three counts of premeditated murder. Show some freaking fear! Instead, I took a cleansing breath and said: “I did it, Reginald. I don’t want to go through the nightmare of a trial. The thought of all my family’s dirty laundry bared in open court for all to see and hear makes me ill. I lost it after my sister died and then everything else. I couldn’t take the pressure of watching my once-blissful life come apart at the seams. Plead me out, Reginald. Don’t try to bargain with them about my sentence. I’ll take whatever they offer.”

  Reginald’s mouth dropped open. “Roxanne, that’s crazy!”

  “So am I, Reginald, and I certainly don’t need a shrink to peek inside my head to confirm it. Crazy as a loon, but it’s what I want. What I deserve. Do it.”

  “Not until you tell me why.”

  “I just did, Reginald. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the only reason. I can see it all over your face. Why this route, Roxy?”

  Crossing my arms, the defiant Roxy rose to the occasion. “Make the deal first. Get me in front of the judge, let me take the punishment and the case be over. Then, I’ll tell you all the juicy details. Oh, and one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t used my one phone call yet. Is it still available to me?”

  “Well, yes, but the call is usually reserved for contacting a lawyer.”

  “I need about five minutes and privacy. Can you arrange that? Maybe tell them I want to speak with another attorney or something?”

  “I’ll try, but can’t promise you privacy. Who are you calling?”

  “That’s none of your concern, Reginald. Just make it happen.”

  Rubbing his forehead, Reginald shook his head. “Clients like you make me question my career choice. You realize this might take a while, which means you’ll be stuck here, right?”

  “Right. I couldn’t afford to bond out anyway. Just get it done, Reginald. Fast. I’m not putting my daughter through any more than I already have.”

  “Fine, but for the record, I disagree with your decision. Heartily disagree.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t care. It’s my life; my choice. Go. I need to make that phone call.”

  Reginald sighed and left, slamming the door behind him. In a few minutes, he came back, handing me his cell. “You’ve got five minutes. Don’t make me regret sticking my neck out for you by hiring another lawyer and using my phone to do it.”

  “I won’t,” I muttered.

  ***

  I waited for Reginald to leave the room then dialed. The conversation wasn’t pleasant, but thankfully, lasted less than the allotted five minutes. Satisfied, I hung up and set the phone down.

  ***

  Reginald returned, snatched it off the table, and left without another word.

  ***

  A female cop arrived a few minutes later. She put me in handcuffs—not the soft, fuzzy ones like I used on Carl—and led me to a holding cell.

  I didn’t cry, or shake, or come apart at the seams. Nope. Instead, I stared at the ugly gray concrete, fully aware, perhaps for the first time in my life, what I was doing.

  And why.

  Suburbia Handbook Rule Number Eleven: One must defend their family, no matter what. This rule trumps everything else.

  Period.

  After all the attempts to steer clear of my old life, I was still a housewife at heart.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jailhouse Visit

  “You’ve got a visitor.”

  “Is it my lawyer?”

  “I’m not your appointment secretary. Get up.”

  Crossing my arms, I remained seated on the small bunk. Wow, did I miss my king-sized bed and clean sheets. Oh, and the fresh scent of my favorite laundry detergent. My cleaning obsession remained in constant overdrive in jail and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. “Not unless you tell me who it is. I’ve made it very clear I won’t talk to any reporters. Don’t visitors have to sign a log or something?”

  The gruff female guard glared at me through the bars. The woman was in serious need of a makeover, including a thorough waxing of her overgrown eyebrows and chin hair. Every time she passed by my cell, I wanted to yell: “Hey, you realize we’re supposed to have two separate brows, and chin hair only belongs on pigs, right?”

  “Female. Said she’s a relative. Move, now.”

  My heart skipped two beats. The thought of seeing Carol made me feel light-headed. I’d given strict instructions to Reginald regarding my
daughter. She was not to set foot inside the jail. Maybe it was Liz? Oh, please, cosmos. Let it be my bestie. I’m dying to see a face that looks normal. “Again, I’m not going anywhere until you know for sure. Reporters have been known to lie for an exclusive.”

  Anger flickered in the guard’s ugly eyes. Leaning closer to the bars, she whispered: “And older, rich bitches like you have been known to kill people when they don’t get their way. Boo-hoo. You couldn’t stand the thought of lifting a dainty finger and working after your husband left you high and dry for some younger pussy. I’m swooning with sympathy for you over here. Get up, right now, or I just might accidentally move you out of this solitary cell and into gen pop.”

  Okay, you repellant hag. You’ve got me there. I need to keep my cool and play along. If it is some reporter, I’ll simply clamp my mouth shut like I did with ol’ Detective Tuck.

  Sticking my wrists through the appointed slot, I let the woman cuff me without saying another peep.

  After traversing numerous hallways, she stopped at a small room and pointed. “Ten minutes is all you’ve got. Talk fast.”

  Fuck you, Unibrow. Why don’t you use the time to find a mirror and do something about your unruly facial hair? Perhaps make an appointment with your gynecologist to discuss your hormonal balance issues?

  Once the hag opened the door and I saw who was on the other side of the glass, a phone receiver held up against her ear (with a Wet Wipe, of course) I gasped.

  Rebecca looked awful. A huge bandage covered her nose, both eyes rimmed in black and blue. It was the first time I’d seen her without full makeup since she’d hit puberty. Yeah, I did that, and the damage to her face was the one thing I accomplished in recent weeks with no regrets.

  If my uptight, twatwaffle sister came for a visit, something was wrong. A sense of fear ambled up my spine. Once seated in the uncomfortable chair, I lifted the receiver. “Is Carol okay?”

  “She’s fine, Roxy, considering things.”

  “Then why are you here? Did some reporter dangle money in front of you for a jailhouse exclusive? Are you wired?”

  Rebecca snorted then grimaced. “I’ve got plenty of money, so, no. Have I been approached by some? Oh, yes. I had to change my cell and home numbers this week, and I’ve been working from home since the day after all this mess started. They’re relentless. You’re famous, er, rather, infamous.”

  God, I wished the plexiglass separating us would disappear, just for a minute. Long enough for me to yank out the new extensions from her head and shove them down her throat. Oh, better yet! Wrap them around her neck and squeeze until she quit breathing. Death by hair! “So, you came to gloat?”

  A few tears appeared and a hint of sadness flashed behind her swollen eyes. It was the first time since Rachel’s funeral she’d displayed real, true emotions. “You really think I’m that kind of person, Roxanne?”

  I suppressed a laugh. L.B. hadn’t addressed me as Roxanne since, well, ever. The way she said it was akin to the motherly tone I’d use when angry at Carol. The haughtiness in her voice—the superior attitude—made me wish I’d ignored my broken twat the day of our battle in her office and finished what I started. “I don’t think—I know. Any previous doubts I had disappeared my first day at work, or don’t you remember?”

  “Yes, I do,” Rebecca whispered, a few tears escaping and sliding down her cheeks. “For that, for all this, what it all led to, I’m sorry. Seeing up close and personal how all of this has affected Carol—it’s broken me. Knocked down the walls I built years ago. Made me actually feel pity and remorse for my actions, believe it or not. That’s why I’m here—to apologize.”

  My God.

  All the levels of Hell just froze over as pigs flew by on rainbow-colored unicorns dropping fragrant, glittery farts from the sky. Rebecca Denise Rayburn Wilson just said words I doubt she’d ever spoken to anyone. Scrutinizing her face, I searched for any signs of deceit or trickery. Seeing none, realizing she was serious, made a lump form in my throat.

  “Actions speak louder than words, Rebecca. Show me by taking care of Carol and Mom. They’re all that matter to me.”

  “Me, too.” Rebecca wiped away the droplets on her chin. “And I will, just like I promised. We’ve made sure to keep the press and others away, to give Carol a chance to deal with this mess without being bombarded by questions or bright lights and cameras shoved into her face. The only thing we couldn’t stop was the police interrogation. The good news is they didn’t ask her much. It was all about you and what you’ve been up to and only lasted about forty minutes.”

  “We?”

  “Liz took her to a cabin up north as soon as the interrogation was over. Stephen and I rearranged our work schedules today. We leave tomorrow so Liz can come back.”

  Choking back tears, I nodded. I’d give up my life to hold my daughter, stroke her hair, coo gentle reassurances into her ear that everything will be all right, just like I did when she was little. Just one more time, one more chance to shelter my child from the raging storms of life. “Thank you, Rebecca. Please make sure to tell Liz and Stephen I appreciate everything they’re doing for my daughter.”

  “I will. We’re rallying behind her, so don’t worry. You’ve got enough on your plate. Have you been able to watch or read any news?”

  “No. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. I have zero interest in seeing or reading what sort of spin is put on all this. Why?”

  “Snippets of your journal were leaked yesterday.”

  Shit. I bet Sasha would read it out loud at next book club. Denise and the rest of the repellant hags will drool like Pavlov dogs, hanging on every word, and then grouse and gush for freaking years. “Not surprising. I’m sure someone pocketed a good chunk of cash to leak it. I bet it was Detective Tuck. He was really pissed when I didn’t answer any of his questions.”

  Swallowing hard, Rebecca returned the scrutinizing gaze. “Were you really going to do it? Sleep with Stephen just to get back at me? Have a party with all our friends and humiliate me by showing you two screwing?”

  “Yes,” I sighed, deciding to come clean since it was out in the open. “I was quite angry after what you did to me. To Carol.”

  Awkward silence.

  We stared at each other through plastic as though really seeing the other person across from them for the first time.

  “Guess I had it coming after what I did, for what I started. I only wanted to hurt you, not Carol. Anger gave me tunnel vision.”

  “Yeah, it works that way, which is why I’m on this side of the glass.”

  More awkward silence.

  Rebecca looked like she was about to toss her lunch all over the plexiglass.

  “I moved Mom to another facility under a false name. She’s not doing well. Even with her memory gone, it’s like something inside her knows the truth. She’s not eating and refuses to take her meds. Dr. Kilgore said he thinks she’s willing herself to die. I thought you needed to know.”

  Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry. “God, did some—?”

  “Yes, two reporters managed to slip inside at the old facility,” Rebecca interrupted. “They probably paid off a nurse or something. Mom’s dementia turned out to be a blessing. I walked in right when one reporter plopped a newspaper in front of her with your mug shot. She had no clue it was you.”

  “Bastards. Thanks for stepping up to the plate, Rebecca. Not just for Mom, but for Carol.”

  A hint of anger flared in Rebecca’s eyes. “You really didn’t leave me much choice, Roxy. Your actions put me in this position.”

  “Ditto,” I replied with a cold, harsh tone.

  The word hung heavy between us. We both knew there wasn’t anything else left to say that hadn’t already been spoken.

  Biting her lip, Rebecca replaced the receiver and stood, never giving me a second glance as she left the room.

  I did the same.

  CHAPTER 12

  Hot Headlines – Suburbia Made Her Do It!

  The next few
weeks were a blur. When not crammed inside the small cell, listening to the conversations of other female inmates, smelling horrid odors or dreading using the nasty toilet, I did get to go outside for an hour. Dressed in an awful shade of orange, feet clad in hard, plastic shower shoes, a high chain-link fence surrounded with scary-looking razor wire, I absorbed as much vitamin D as possible.

  To keep my mind and body occupied while caged like an animal, I paced back and forth, did sit-ups, push-ups, and squats. Though I hated being locked up, the vigorous workouts toned my body. At least I’d look good in front of the court. If cameras were allowed inside, my former friends couldn’t give me a demerit for looking rough!

  Score!

  Most of the female jailers were bitches, but two of them were sort of nice. One in particular, Juanita Sanchez, grinned at me every time she passed by, a knowing look on her face. She’d even slipped me some chocolate and smokes, which were both appreciated. Now, if I could just convince her to get me some Moscato …

  Footsteps approached. I hoped the person coming down the hall was Juanita. Today was my big day in front of Judge Clemmons—the allocution hearing. According to Reginald, I’d get the chance to really clean up, put some makeup on and fix my dull, lifeless hair, before court.

  “Hey, Roxy. You ready?”

  Thank goodness it was Juanita. In her hands, she held my best outfit. I wondered if Liz or Carol brought it? There was no way it’d been L.B.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be, Juanita.”

  Unlocking the cell, Juanita motioned for me to come out. “You remember the way to the showers, right?”

  “Yep,” I replied, leading the way. I was beyond thankful Juanita hadn’t shackled my hands and feet. Those things hurt! Bondage aficionados were strange people, for sure.

  Once in the bathroom, which resembled the one I remembered from high school, I let out a sigh of relief. Privacy! Finally! Showering in front of others wasn’t something I enjoyed.

  “You get an extra five minutes today, Roxy. I brought you some scented soap too. Hope you like Morning Rain.”