The garden of dead thoughts

by Natasha A. Salnikova

PART 3

  MARGO and FRANK

  CHAPTER 1

  MARGO

  Margo took only one copy of the documents to her lawyer. He was surprised, but didn’t ask questions. She left the second copy in the car so she could take it later to her planned location. When she returned home, Frank was swearing everything and everyone.

  “Do you understand that I could fucking die here?” he shouted.

  “Calm down.”

  Margo removed the handcuffs with one hand while holding the gun with the other. Frank didn’t even look at the weapon. He jumped off the bed and rushed to the bathroom as soon as he was free.

  Margo sat down in the chair, giggling.

  She heard what was happening in the bathroom while checking the Nordstrom site. He even took a shower. When he came out dressed in a robe, Margo forced him back onto the bed and made him put back the handcuffs.

  “Really?” he asked. “I thought we agreed.”

  “I told you what I would do, but we haven’t agreed on anything. So, until we discuss all the details, you’ll stay like that. Then I’ll let you go and you can get out of here.”

  Frank sighed, even rolled his eyes, but obeyed the order.

  She didn’t believe him, of course, but she liked his plan. Marrying a rich guy involved less risk and was more reliable, but obtaining wealth from that marriage was another matter. Look at her first marriage. She calculated every detail and how did it work for her? What Frank proposed was dangerous, but the percentage of assurance increased. Plus, there were other benefits. She didn’t have to search for a long time, play for a long time, or sleep with anyone. She was tired of all of it.

  While they were discussing their further relationship, which included security, responsibility for certain actions, research, and the means to get what they needed, Margo realized with astonishment that her attitude toward Frank was beginning to change. He was no longer a stupid, clumsy nitwit. He was an intelligent charlatan, an intriguer who blindsided even her. He even appeared more attractive to her. He seemed taller and thinner, his eyes were bright and expressive. Maybe all of this was there before, but she saw what she wanted to see: thinning hair and growing gut. How did he see her then and now?

  Margo ran her finger over her lower lip and changed her position. Suddenly she wondered what it would be like to have sex with this new Michael, while he was chained to the bed. It seemed that he read her mind because he stopped talking. His gaze slid over her neck and froze on the décolletage line, slowly moving along her body. Margo followed his gaze until he looked into her eyes again and smiled.

  “Shall we seal the contract?” he asked.

  Margo snorted and frowned as if the very idea was disgusting. He didn’t look away and didn’t stop smiling. He definitely turned into another person in her eyes.

  Margo went to the bed and untied Frank’s robe.

  “The handcuffs will stay,” she said. “The gun will be close at hand. I have fast reactions.”

  “I’m sure of that,” Frank said. “But you have to understand that killing you doesn’t do anything for me.” He licked his lips. “And I don’t want to. This is the first time I have found a woman who’s my equal.”

  The first time I have found an equal man, Margo thought, but didn’t say anything aloud.

  She had never had such violent sex, even with Tristan. After a while, she removed Frank’s handcuffs, but he dressed and left the bedroom under the aim of her gun. She needed more time to start trusting him or to at least believe he wasn’t so crazy as to risk his ass and do something to her. After all, if something did happen to her, the police would skin him first.

  CHAPTER 2

  MARGO

  “I thought you’d invite me to your house,” Tristan said, climbing into Margo’s car. She wanted to invite him to the park, but the heat outside was brutal.

  “My husband’s at home,” Margo said, not looking at Tristan. When she turned to him, he gave her a kiss. She could have managed without this gift. Just a few days ago, Tristan was hot, sexy, and irresistible to her. Today he was a boy who was dependent on her, who couldn’t even fuck properly in all honesty. And he was a bum, who would never have thought of such things as Frank had.

  “Did they find Daisy?” she asked.

  Tristan moved away from Margo, sighed, and shook his head.

  “It’s just fucked up, man,” he cursed. “Where did she go? The police let me off the hook. I hope, at least. I have an alibi, they can’t do anything about it, but her mother keeps calling me. I think she killed herself, the little idiot, but I would never have thought she was suicidal. She was so ... normal. Or is, I don’t know.”

  “Yeah,” Margo said vaguely. “Who knew?”

  “People break up every day, but they don’t commit suicide.”

  “Some are more sensitive than others,” Margo said.

  “How are you?” Tristan asked. “How is your millionaire husband? Is he still a great person?”

  Margo sighed, covered her eyes with her hands. Tristan didn’t say anything and she had to look at him. He waited for an answer and didn’t react to her apparent suffering.

  “We all make mistakes in people,” Margo said.

  Tristan raised his eyebrows.

  Margo shrugged and paused before continuing.

  “I met him at such a difficult time. My husband had just died, I was looking for a strong man’s shoulder to support me through the pain, and I didn’t notice the obvious red flags.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Tristan asked. “Except that he’s not a good match for you?”

  “I barely see him. He works insane hours and when he comes home, he’s so agitated and stressed. He yells at me all the time.”

  “At you? And you let him get away with it?”

  “No, but you have to understand, it creates constant stress. I’m stressed all the time. Sometimes I think I won’t be able to handle it.” Margo looked Tristan in the eye and took his hand. “I think about you a lot.”

  Tristan straightened up, even slightly pushed his chest forward. Of course, he was a worthy match for Margo.

  “We have a lot in common,” Margo said, thinking that they had nothing in common. “When we are together, we don’t need anything else.”

  It was the first time they were together away from the bed and Margo couldn’t imagine a stranger couple.

  “I told you,” Tristan said. “Get away from him.”

  “That’s easy to say.”

  Margo let go of Tristan’s hand and turned to the window, taking the position of the thinker.

  “It’s easy to do,” Tristan assured. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Margo shook her head, not looking at him.

  “Your husband’s money can become yours,” Tristan suddenly said what Margo never expected.

  “He has no money,” she said after a moment’s thought. “And he doesn’t want to take out an insurance policy.”

  Margo thought a little more and continued to speak emotionally, excitedly. She was an object, a sufferer, a victim.

  “We have a mortgage, car loans, everything! You can’t imagine what’s going on! I just didn’t tell you, because I wanted to be distracted by you! I didn’t want to think about all of this! I don’t know what to do!”

  “How did it happen so quickly?” Tristan asked in confusion. “You just got married. Why did you marry him?”

  “What’s the difference?” Margo exclaimed with tears. She tilted the mirror over the driver’s seat to look at herself. Her reflection completely satisfied her. Her mascara didn’t smear, but the suffering on her face turned out to be excellent. “Oscar” was guaranteed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just all ... I spilled it on you ... Go, you don’t need any of this. I’ll figure it out for myself, it’s not the first time.”

  Margo suddenly felt sorry for herself and wiped real tears.

  “Hey, stop it.” Tristan was completely confused and ran his fingers over Ma
rgo’s face as if trying to pretend there were no tears, that he imagined them. Margo sobbed once and stopped. The main thing was not to overplay. Frank also believed that. She had to keep the golden middle. He was talented, her Frank. He wasn’t better than her, but a close run.

  “I’m sorry,” Margo repeated. “Go, okay. I’ll call you. One day. When I get out of this ... Bye, Tristan.”

  “Listen.” He grabbed her arm. “I’ll help you.”

  “Stop.” Margo shook her head. “No one can help me.”

  “Listen,” Tristan insisted. “Remember I told you about my grandmother?”

  “Not really,” Margo said. Of course she didn’t remember any grandmother, did she? How could she? Grandmother who has money to share. She would never remember that in her life.

  “My grandmother,” Tristan said irritably. “It’s my mother’s mother. She married a millionaire, he kicked off, and she now lives alone. She sold their mansion and bought a smaller house. The mansion was worth thirteen million. It’s sick, isn’t it?”

  “Tristan, other people’s money is the last thing I want to talk about.”

  “You’re slow, but I understand. My mother and her mother had some kind of argument and now Grandma sends us a hundred bucks for Christmas and birthdays. She has millions and gives her grandson two fucking hundred bucks a year.”

  “Not very generous,” Margo agreed. Her grandmother, the mother of her mother, was more generous, although not a millionaire, but she was annoying.

  “She now has five dogs and cats or whatever. My mother said they’ve sort of made up now because she wants to be in the will, but the old idiot plans to give everything to the dog shelters! Plus, she’s healthier than I am. She’ll outlive me!”

  “Tristan, I don’t know what to say. I’m a little tired.”

  “Margo.” Tristan looked at her like she was an idiot. “You really don’t understand?”

  “What do I have to understand?”

  Now Tristan turned to the window and paused before continuing to speak.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for some time now. I don’t know how to get dough from her any other way. Of course, most of her money is in the bank, but she has jewelry at home, expensive purses, I’m sure some cash. Mother said she saw it once. She has money in her closet. It’s not even safe. The old idiot isn’t afraid of anything because she has all those dogs.”

  “Do you want to steal her money?” Margo bugged her eyes in horror. She hoped also to turn pale.

  Tristan wasn’t a “bad boy” in the classical sense of the word and Margo was mistaken when she first thought of this. Frank was bad. Tristan only “played” bad and looked cool in his T-shirt and jeans. He hadn’t committed a crime, he hadn’t stolen, or God forbid killed. He wanted money and knew where to get it, but that thought made him feel evil. He had it written all over his face. The upcoming scam turned Margo on, and Frank was the same, because they had the same blood type. Rotten. Rotten blood, rotten thoughts. Tristan was different. He was good who admired the bad. He wasn’t a player, he was a fan and the one who was played.

  Margo wanted to joke, ask what his mom would think, but that could lead to catastrophic consequences, because he might really start worrying about his mom’s opinion. After all, she brought him up differently.

  “I work like a bitch and almost everything goes to rent, car, food. She sits on that fucking money. It’s rotting there in her closet. I’m her grandson! She has a lot of grandchildren, true, but she doesn’t help anyone.”

  “I understand, but she’ll call the police.”

  “So what? How can they prove it?”

  “I don’t know. There are different ways.”

  “Let them try. I’ll take my mother’s key from her house and when she goes to the store or takes her dogs out ... So, there.”

  “It’s very dangerous. Are you sure?”

  Margo looked into Tristan’s eyes and he kissed her.

  “I will do anything for you,” he said. “For us. If you will be with me.”

  “Tristan, of course I’ll be with you. I just don’t want to bother you with my problems.”

  “So be it.”

  “I want you to think it over. Maybe Frank will make money, I’ll pay for the house, and there ...”

  “Stop it,” Tristan said. “I don’t want you to stay with him even for a day and hope that he will save you. That asshole.”

  “I can’t just leave.”

  “You won’t just leave. I want you to be with me.”

  “Please, think about it,” Margo said. “It’s dangerous. I told you about my situation, but it isn’t so bad ... I ... He doesn’t hit me.”

  “He could hit you? Okay, that’s enough.”

  Tristan kissed Margo with such strength and passion, as if he was doing it for the last time. She knew that this time was the last.

  “Talk to you soon,” he said and got out of the car.

  “Be careful,” Margo cried.

  “I love you,” he said and slammed the door.

  Margo looked in the rearview mirror at Tristan walking to his Mustang that was parked behind her car. He looked at her, got into the car, and was gone just like that.

  Margo sipped water from the bottle, which stood in the cup holder, watching the children: two girls about five years old, running around trees. Their mothers sat on the grass, on blankets, taking non-stop photos of the girls with their phones. There was no one else in the park near the river, there were only birds and trees. Margo took out her phone and dialed Frank.

  “I have no doubt the answer is positive,” he said.

  “He swallowed the bait and didn’t choke,” she replied. Frank was right. Playing together was much more fun and profitable. They weren’t only partners, but also alibis for each other.

  CHAPTER 3

  MARGO

  “Margo! Margo!”

  She and Frank were sitting in a restaurant, sharing a bottle of Burgundy when Tristan called. She had to run outside, so he wouldn’t hear the noise.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I did it! I did it!”

  He was hysterical. He was hysterical and called her. What an idiot. Of course, she had to talk to him. First, it was too late to cancel anything now, and second, she had to act according to the scenario.

  “I was hoping you’d change your mind,” she said.

  “I hope you won’t change your mind,” he said. Actually, he yelled. Tristan was losing his mind if he hadn’t lost it already.

  “No, of course not. Where are you now? Are you all right? You seem stressed.”

  “Stressed?” Tristan laughed and Margo hoped he hadn’t really lost it.

  “I had to kill her,” he almost whispered.

  “What? What did you say?”

  “It was an accident. Believe me! I’m not a killer.”

  Maybe fortunately and maybe unfortunately, Margo thought. She was standing in the backyard of the restaurant and one of their workers came out with a garbage bag, looking at her. Margo hurried to the car, wobbling over holes in the road in her high heels.

  “I know, I know,” she said, climbing into the car and closing the door. Fortunately, she always took her bag with her and the car keys were always there. She started the engine, continuing to watch the restaurant worker who threw the bag into the garbage and took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. After a couple of seconds, Frank came outside and talked to the restaurant worker. Frank looked at her and she raised her thumb up. After that, Frank took a cigarette from the guy, while Margo tried to calm down a fit of hysterics.

  “Calm down, it’s okay,” she said. “I love you and I trust you.”

  “Really?” Tristan almost sobbed. What a tough guy. Margo felt nauseous.

  “What happened? Actually, don’t say anything. Where are you?”

  “I don’t know. I left and went to ninety-five.”

  “You need to calm down. You need a drink, it will bring you to your senses.
”

  “Can I come to you?”

  “Dear, it’s very risky and Frank is at home,” Margo whispered the last words.

  “Who’s Frank?” Tristan asked.

  “Frank? I said fool. My husband. Listen, I have a boat.”

  “I didn’t know you had a boat.”

  “It’s from my first husband. I can’t sell it. I’ll pick you up from somewhere. I’ll tell you. You can stay there as long as you want. You can’t go home now or be alone in this state of mind.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you find what you wanted?”

  “That was why I ... Yes.”

  “Okay. Answer your mother, tell her you are with a woman, create an alibi.”

  “Cool.”

  “Now listen where to go.”

  Margo told Tristan all the details and then beckoned to Frank, who was standing by the restaurant alone now, smoking. He threw the cigarette on the ground and was sitting in the passenger seat in a few seconds.

  “I didn’t know you smoked,” she said.

  “It’s disgusting,” Frank said. “I told them you felt bad, paid the check. We can go.”

  “Let’s go. We have a long night ahead.”

  Margo kissed Frank and the restaurant worker came out again with another bag of trash.

  “Well, showtime,” Margo said, leaving the parking lot.

  “Showtime,” Frank said, but his hand remained on her hip and moved up.

  CHAPTER 4

  MARGO

  It was painful to look at Tristan. He had calmed down a bit while driving and didn’t sound as frantic as when he called her, but he looked pathetic. His eyes were red, his hair was a mess, his clothes were soaked in sweat, and his hands were shaking. He was sitting across from Margo in the cockpit, drinking Frank’s whiskey. He wasn’t interested in anything: neither the boat nor the whiskey, not even Margo, frankly speaking. He looked as if he wanted to sink into the ground or, in this case, through the deck into the water.

  Margo had never been on Frank’s yacht and had only considered it superficially before Tristan arrived at the small island where Frank had it moored. There was no one there at night. They saw light from other yachts in the distance. In the morning, fishermen would start coming here, but that wasn’t important.