Rachel's Folly

by Bruno, Monica

  Frustrated, Ben agreed. “Okay, I won’t bring it up anymore.” There was a long pause. “But, um, there’s just one thing …” Edward looked at him expectantly. “I’m going to need a car while I’m here. Can I borrow Rachel’s?”

  “No. It’s the only car that can hold a car seat in the back. I’ve been using it to drive Jacob around. My truck is in the shop; use the Porsche.”

  “Oh, no. Well, I … I don’t know.”

  “Can you drive a stick?” Edward asked bluntly.

  “Yes.”

  “Use the Porsche.”

  Thinking about how much Edward coddled that car, Ben replied, “I don’t know, Edward. Maybe it’s better if I just rent a car.”

  “Ben, use the Porsche. I don’t care about the goddamned car anymore.”

  After a moment, Ben reluctantly agreed. Then he tried to change the subject. “Can I treat you and Jacob to breakfast tomorrow? Maybe we can all go to that local pancake house he loves so much.”

  “You two can go. I’m really not up for it,” he said, irritated.

  “Whatever you say.” It was obvious now that Edward was angry and no matter how much he tried, Ben wasn’t going to change that. The two men remained at the table, struggling to find small talk. After a while, Ben took out a deck of playing cards from his bag and they played gin rummy late into the night.

  FOUR

  ON MONDAY EVENING, Ben carefully pulled the Porsche out of the driveway. He tried in vain not to keep jerking forward each time he switched gears, but he just wasn’t used to driving a sports car. He cautiously drove to BookPeople and was relieved to find a parking spot close to the entrance. He parked the car, making sure not to get too close to the cars on either side of him. He spent a while trying to figure out how to control the windows before he could crack one open for Homer.

  Once outside, he noticed that everyone was bundled up in their heavy winter clothes. He wasn’t wearing a coat, just a plaid, flannel, long-sleeve shirt and khaki pants. Compared to how bitterly cold it was in Maine, he didn’t feel chilled at all. As he held the door open to allow an elderly woman to exit, he heard the sudden shriek of halting breaks. He looked over his shoulder to see a late model Ford Escort almost hit a man who was crossing the walkway. The man raised his arms in the air, shouting at the driver in anger, as the car turned the corner and drove off quickly.

  “Crazy kids,” the woman said, shaking her head. “When will they learn?” She smiled at Ben and walked away.

  Ben picked up a book he needed for work and found a couple of picture books about dinosaurs for Jacob. He glanced at his wristwatch as he waited to check out and felt confident that he still had plenty of time to get to the coffee shop. He struggled to get his large body into the Porsche, which was much smaller and lower to the ground than he was used to. Once he maneuvered over the speed bumps and out of the parking lot, he headed northeast towards the upper part of town.

  His hands were sweating. And as nervous as he was about driving Edward’s car, he was more anxious about seeing Sara. He hoped she wouldn’t change her mind and not show up for their meeting. He hoped she could finally give him the clue he was so desperately seeking. But what if Edward was right and she didn’t know anything? What if it had all been for nothing and Jack was innocent? Was he really making something of nothing? Maybe Rachel was so depressed and guilt-ridden, she had in fact gone over the edge. He brushed off the thought. He just couldn’t bear the notion of living his life never knowing exactly what happened to Rachel.

  Isaac’s Coffee House was in an old, brick building, with a large glass counter surrounded by a dozen small round tables. There was a worn out, purple, velvet sofa on one side near a large bookcase full of old books and magazines. The walls were plastered with vintage posters and flyers of 1970s icons like Farrah Fawcett, David Cassidy, Evel Knievel, Smokey and the Bandit and The Ramones. The place smelled of fresh coffee and baked pastries, with Led Zepplin’s “Going to California” coming through the speakers. Ben smirked when he read the daily special scribbled on the chalkboard above the counter. It was a white buttery croissant coupled with a cup of their house dark roast coffee. It was appropriately called the “Ponch and Jon” special.

  Ben stood at the entrance with Homer in his arms and looked around for Sara. There were only a few people there and no one fit her profile. He went to the counter and ordered a cappuccino and an orange cranberry scone, then sat down at a small table by the front window.

  About ten minutes later, a small, thin girl with big, hazel eyes and long, brown and blond streaked hair walked in. She loosened her dark gray, cable knit scarf as she entered and looked around. She nodded hello to the man behind the counter.

  Ben stood up and called out her name. She turned to look at him, half-smiled and went over to greet him. She kept her arms crossed and only released them when Ben held out his hand for a handshake. She shook it, but crossed her arms once more immediately after.

  “Thanks so much for meeting me,” he said and motioned for her to sit down. “Please. Can I get you something?”

  “No, I’m good, thanks,” she said as she dropped her bag on the floor and sat down. “You don’t look like Rachel.”

  “I know, she takes … I mean, she took after my father. They say I look more like my mother.”

  “Yeah, uh … I’m sorry for your loss,” she said quietly, adjusting her chair. Then she looked at Homer and smiled.

  “Thank you. It’s been really difficult. She was my only sister, my only sibling.” He noticed she was still looking at Homer. “Do you want to pet him? He’s very friendly.” She hesitated, but then reached over and began to caress the dog’s head. Homer happily licked her hand. She seemed to soften and warm up a little.

  “You were a client of hers?” Ben asked calmly.

  “Yeah, for a while. I started seeing her when my parents got divorced. She was more than a therapist to me though. She was more of a friend, I guess. I could tell her anything.” Her eyes scanned Ben’s face, then she leaned back in her chair and gazed out the window.

  “Yes, she was always easy to talk to,” Ben said. They sat there for a minute or two as he struggled to find a way to ask her about Jack. She looked around the coffee shop and then back out the window. She grabbed a long lock of her hair and began to twirl it between her fingers. Ben felt the awkwardness in the silence and was just about to speak when she asked, “So why did you want to talk to me?”

  “Yes …” A guy reading a book at a nearby table glanced in their direction. Ben lowered his voice. “Well, do you know how Rachel died?”

  “I heard she killed herself, jumped off her balcony, which I really don’t get at all. I guess she must have got bummed out listening to everybody’s problems.”

  “I don’t get it either, but I think it had more to do with her own problems than anyone else’s. I think there’s a lot more to the story than anyone knows. And that’s why I’m here. I’m trying to find out why Rachel took her life.”

  “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think I know anything that can help you.”

  “You’re probably right, but I have to ask …” Ben leaned forward on the table. “Do you know a man named Jack Spencer?”

  Sara thought for a second and then shook her head slowly. “No.”

  Ben’s brow furrowed. “No? Are you sure?”

  “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Ben was perplexed and starting to feel disheartened. “Did you ever hear Rachel talk about someone named Jack?” Sara looked pensive and then shook her head again.

  “Nope. No Jack, but what do I know? She said a lot of crazy things the last time I saw her.”

  “Which was when?”

  “The day she died.”

  Surprised, Ben looked at her in disbelief. “What? Have the police interviewed you?”

  “No, why would they?”

  “They said they interviewed all of Rachel’s recent clients, starting with the ones she saw the day of the
accident.”

  “Well, that explains it, ‘cause I wasn’t on her schedule. I stopped seeing her a while back. I called her that morning because something had happened that I needed to talk to her about.”

  Ben leaned forward in his chair. “What did you guys talk about that morning?” Ben asked eagerly. Sara’s face suddenly darkened and she pulled back, crossing her arms in front of her chest again. “Sara, I normally wouldn’t ask. I know it’s no business of mine. But it just might offer a clue into Rachel’s thought process that day. I promise you, I won’t tell anyone what you confide in me.” Sara remained unmoved and silent. “Please,” he pleaded.

  She studied Ben’s eyes for a while. They were soft, lost. She looked over at the woman sitting on the purple sofa and then back at Ben. Then she said, “I was seeing a guy back then. I met him here actually, last year. We had seen each other a few times before he got up the nerve to introduce himself. Anyway, we started going around. My parents hated him from the get-go, and I really don’t have too many friends, so the only person I could talk to about him was Rachel.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “James.”

  “Is he a boy from school?”

  “No. I just told you I met him here,” she reminded him, sounding agitated.

  “I’m sorry. Continue, please.”

  “Like I said, I had stopped seeing Rachel at the end of the summer, but it was okay because things were getting better with my parents. But then something happened.” She looked at Ben who was studying her every word.

  “What happened?”

  She hesitated, and then looked at him dead in the eye. She lowered her voice. “If I tell you, you have to promise you’ll keep it to yourself. You can’t tell the police. Nobody knows.”

  “You have my word,” he said.

  She sighed deeply. “I got pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. At first, I thought we’d get married, but when I told him, he said …” Her voice cracked and her eyes began to water. She quickly brushed away a tear that started to fall from her eye. She tilted her head back and sighed. “He told me he could get one of his friends to give me an abortion.”

  “Oh no,” Ben said solemnly.

  “Yeah, well, it happened. It’s over.”

  “This is what you talked to Rachel about on that day?” Ben asked. Sara nodded.

  “And how did Rachel respond?”

  “She tried to get me to go see a doctor, and was really mad. She said he could go to jail, since I’m a minor and everything.”

  Ben sat back in his chair and thought a moment. “As awful as that is, I’m not sure why it would cause Rachel to go to Elena’s,” he said mostly to himself.

  “Elena’s?”

  “Yes. My sister didn’t jump from her own balcony. It was her friend’s condo.” Ben wondered how this information could be connected to Jack. “Is there anything out of the ordinary that happened on that day you spoke with Rachel?” Ben asked.

  She started to shake her head but stopped. “Well, yeah, I guess, in a way,” she said. Ben waited in anticipation.

  “She saw a picture I had of James on my phone and then had to leave all of a sudden. She apologized and said she would explain it all to me later.”

  “Do you have that picture with you?”

  “Yeah, it’s on my phone, but I asked her if she knew him and she said no, so I don’t think it’s going to help.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the pictures until she landed on the one she was looking for. “Here,” she said and handed the phone to him.

  Ben held it out at arm’s length to get a better look. “Oh. My. God,” he said and covered his mouth with his hand.

  “What?”

  He held the screen out for her to see and pointed to the male in the photo. “This is Jack Spencer.”

  Sara looked confused. “What?”

  “I knew it!” Ben said excitedly. “I knew there had to be a connection. That’s why she went to Elena’s. She wasn’t sad or depressed. She was mad as hell.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sara asked with a puzzled look on her face. “Look, I told you everything. You better tell me who Jack Spencer is,” she demanded.

  “Jack Spencer is a fraud who has made a fool of all of us.”

  Sara stared at Ben, obviously still confused.

  “Rachel’s friend Elena …” Ben carried on, as he put on his reading glasses and studied the picture more closely. “Our friend Jack here married her in May.” Sara’s expression went blank. Ben continued, “And Rachel … Rachel had an affair, for lack of a better word, with Jack two days before their wedding.”

  “No way.”

  “I’m afraid so. It seems Jack has been a very busy boy.”

  “You’re wrong. That can’t be true,” she said coldly.

  Finally, the pieces were falling into place. Ben suddenly felt redeemed and relieved. “It can. It all makes sense now. Rachel’s feeling guilty about sleeping with her best friend’s husband, then she finds out he’s not only been with you all that time, he got you pregnant. Not to mention the way he took care of his problem.”

  Sara shook her head repeatedly. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”

  “We all fell for it. And you know what? I don’t think Rachel took her life. I bet you Jack killed her. I don’t know how he did it, but I’m willing to bet my life he was there when she went up to Elena’s condo.” He was beside himself. He closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head. He wasn’t crazy, after all.

  Sara’s jaw dropped. She looked around the coffee shop and then back at Ben, staring at him with wide eyes. After a long pause, she fell back in her chair and looked down at the table. She said in an almost inaudible voice, “I’m so stupid.”

  Ben placed his hand gently over hers. “Do you want to press charges against him for the abortion?”

  She quickly pulled her hand away from his. “What? No … uh, what? My parents would find out.”

  “You need to think about it. This is serious. I’ll call you later. I have to go talk to my brother-in-law and decide how to handle this,” he said with a renewed sense of purpose.

  Sara looked dumbfounded. She put her head in her hands and stared at the table. “What are you going to do?” she asked blankly.

  “Nail him. But I’m going to need you. You should come to the police station with me and Edward.”

  “Oh, hell no. I’m not going to the police.” She shook her head and then looked at him incredulously. “You honestly think he killed Rachel?”

  “All I know is Rachel wouldn’t have taken her life. He had something to do with it. My gut tells me he killed her. I have to prove it though. You’ve given me a motive. I need you to think about this. We’ll figure something out, so your parents don’t have to find out, okay?”

  She looked unconvinced. “I … I don’t know.”

  “I know this is all a lot to take in, but you have to help me. Think of Rachel.” Ben looked at her affectionately. “Please.”

  “I don’t know,” Sara repeated once more. “It sounds crazy. I don’t think he killed her, there’s no way … But, if it helps, I guess I can tell the police we dated. I don’t know.”

  Ben grabbed Homer and abruptly got up. He bent over and gave Sara a quick kiss on her forehead. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be in touch soon. Thank you.” She pulled away, seeming taken aback by the kiss, but then nodded slowly in agreement. Ben turned back for another look at Sara, as he hurried out of the coffee shop.

  * * *

  Ben felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of his chest. He was charged and eager to speak with Edward. He tried calling him as soon as he left the coffee shop. When Edward didn’t pick up, Ben immediately cut the line. He thought about calling back and leaving a message but decided it was probably better to tell Edward in person.

  It was already dark outside, but Ben was relieved to see that the traffic had subsided, as he was still not comfortable behind the wheel of the Po
rsche. After he pulled out of the now almost vacant parking lot, he drove cautiously until he was able to make his way out of downtown. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he noticed a dark-colored Ford Escort cut right in front of the car behind him. He looked more closely and wondered if it could be the same car he had seen nearly hit a man at the bookstore just hours before. The car pulled back and Ben’s thoughts returned to his conversation with Sara. The roads opened up for him as he drove along the wide streets west of the city. Feeling slightly more comfortable on the open road, he pressed down harder on the gas. He glanced in the mirror again and didn’t see the Ford anymore. When he turned his attention back to the street in front of him, he had to slam on the breaks, almost missing the turn up the windy road that led to Edward’s home.

  He wondered how Edward would react to the news Ben had for him. He expected it would be enough to shake Edward out of his funk. Now they could go back to the police and they would have to reopen the case. Now there was solid proof that Jack was a fraud with a motive to kill. There was a motive, but was there opportunity? How did Jack do it if he was with Elena? There had to be an explanation. He wondered now if he should have brought Sara along with him.

  He was thinking all of these things, shifting gears, and trying to turn down the radio when a flash of headlights shot into his rearview mirror. Suddenly, the car behind him hit the back of the Porsche. Homer flew onto the floorboard and struggled to get back on the passenger seat. Ben quickly swerved left to avoid colliding with the guardrail, but he lost control. All he could hear was metal on metal. With all his strength, he kept tugging the steering wheel. The car didn’t respond. He slammed on the brakes to prevent going over the cliff, but it was too late. The Porsche was already airborne. It hit the ground with a thick thud. A blur of trees and brush rushed passed him. The car continued to bolt down into the darkness until it came to a smashing halt. Everything went black.

  Sara

  “Every saint has a past and every sinner

  has a future.”

  – Oscar Wilde