Eviscerating the Snake - The Complete Trilogy

by Ashley Fontainne

  We were told minutes ago that a representative from the Summerset Police Department will be coming out to make a statement momentarily to presumably give an update on…oh, and someone is coming to the gate now.”

  Jan did her best to hide the excitement from her voice and face, the adrenaline rush hitting her hard, knowing she was getting a major scoop on all the other local and national newshounds that were oblivious to this latest juicy tidbit. They were probably getting still shots from town for their broadcasts tonight and had absolutely no clue what was going on. She took in a quick shot of air through her nose and thrust her best professional demeanor forth as she turned around to face the speaker, microphone ready in hand to capture it all while making herself famous.

  “The body of Robert Folton was just recovered about ten miles north of here. His body is being flown back to the State Crime Lab for a complete autopsy to determine the cause of death. No further comments or statements will be made until our investigation is completed. Thank you, Jan,” Detective Ronson said, nodding curtly at Jan and immediately turning on his heels and closing the iron gate behind him before Jan could even utter one question. Jan let the camera catch those few seconds to regain her own composure, for she almost couldn’t contain her joy any longer. The song ‘Dirty Laundry’ by Don Henley was certainly true, for she knew that her eyes most likely reflected the “gleam” from this juicy bit of news. She squared her shoulders back and faced the camera once again.

  “That was Detective Steve Ronson from the Summerset Police Department officially breaking the news that Robert Folton is dead. While our thoughts go out to his wife, children, and family members at his sudden, tragic passing, we can’t help but wonder how this will affect the trial of Mr. Kemper on Monday.

  “We will bring you more updates on this breaking case tonight at six and ten. This is Jan Patakee, reporting live from Summerset for Channel Six News.”

  LATE THURSDAY NIGHT

  GOD, I WAS SO tired. My muscles were screaming at me, especially the ones that ran up my back and neck, from staying taut and tense all day as I hopped from one fire to another. Finally, at almost eleven in the evening, my cell phone quieted down long enough for me to use the restroom and grab some water from the kitchen. Actually, I was surprised that the little electronic brain hadn’t just exploded from the incessant usage it suffered today. Once the news broke about Robert, my phone literally blew up with calls, emails, and text messages. Trying to screen all this while driving was quite dangerous and something that I wasn’t very adept at accomplishing, so I finally just gave up and called the office, told the receptionist to put me through to Carl, and had him conference in all the partners at one time. That helped only an infinitesimal amount on call volume for a few brief moments. Then the media monster reared its ugly head once more, with the mouthpiece led by that obnoxious Jan Patakee from Channel Six. Good God, but that woman was insufferable!

  My head was thumping from a raging headache, most likely brought on from lack of food and the many adrenaline highs and lows it suffered throughout the day. I fumbled around in my desk drawer in search of something to ease the pain and finally found some ancient aspirin crammed in the very back. Swallowing quickly, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for just a bit, trying to calm my overly rigid nerves from the absolute insanity that overshadowed my earlier bit of happiness. I gently rubbed my temples, hoping that would alleviate some of the pressure.

  Damn, it wasn’t working, which was no shock to me, considering the last fifteen hours.

  I wanted to go back to the wondrous, joyful, and highly energetic sensations from my night with Steve, but they were completely overrun now by the news of Robert’s death. When Steve had told me on the phone earlier today, I felt those warm, luscious thoughts immediately vanish as my blood turned cold with shock. My first thought was that he killed himself over grief of his actions and, quite possibly, his fear of testifying against Olin. That mental road immediately led me to feel a huge internal twinge of guilt, so overwhelming that I had to pull off onto the shoulder to gain control of my shaking limbs as Steve related his exciting morning and the discovery of Robert’s body. Obviously, he knew that I might feel that way and immediately tried to soothe those frayed nerves by reassuring me that although he couldn’t say how, the coroner at the scene said Robert’s death was most likely a homicide. Although that did relieve the guilt factor somewhat, it didn’t completely chase it away.

  Homicide. As I sat in my office chair and thought about that, my stomach began to roil for the umpteenth time today. I had spent thirty-eight blissful years completely untainted by any such darkness and evil and now, in less than one year, I was confronted not just with another one, but one that was intricately entwined with the first. I forced my eyes open at that point, unwilling to let the mental images fill my vision, and stared out the window into the endless lights below. The view from my new office was quite spectacular and offered up a much better viewing alternative than what was lurking in my mind’s shadows, so I kicked off my shoes and walked over to the couch I recently purchased for moments such as these—a comfortable place to stretch my legs and relax while I gazed at the serene view below. As I sank into the cool leather and kicked my feet up, I forced myself to think rationally rather than emotionally about Robert’s situation.

  So many people had reasons for wanting him dead. Maybe it was his wife, horrified by the knowledge that she spent her entire marriage sleeping next to a silent killer or at least someone that was an accomplice to one. I thought about that for a moment as I sipped my water in silence, wondering how I would have reacted had I awoke one morning to discover that James had been somehow involved in a murder. It was a bit difficult to truly summon emotions from that since my emotional connection to James was at just about zero, so I tried to recapture the feelings of joy that once flowed inside me as we prepared for our soon to be parenthood and run with it, almost like watching an internal movie, as a life that never was meant to be played before me. If we would have made it through years of marriage and raising children and then suddenly, after twenty-plus years, I found out what poor Stacy did, I could imagine the unbelievable rage that I would feel, and most likely, any horribly betrayed woman would, but could I kill him or plot his death? Possibly, since I knew from personal experience that one tragic moment in life had the ability to alter the course your life was previously on, throwing you onto a road that you never thought you were able to travel.

  Although I knew Stacy from various events over the years that she attended with Robert, and she seemed like a nice, sane person, I did not know her personally, so my ability to weigh in on whether she was capable of murder or not was severely limited. Of course, my judgments of other people’s personality traits that I did know was obviously not one of my stronger qualities since I grossly underestimated several of them. I put her down as a mental “maybe.”

  It could have been one of Gina’s relatives, since I seemed to recall several of them making public threats about ripping Olin to shreds right after his arrest. Maybe they were so enraged about not being able to wrap their hands around his neck that they sought out the next best thing in Robert. But of course, the top of the list was Olin, since he stood to lose the most if Robert testified against him, but he couldn’t have done it since he was in jail.

  Unless he had help from the outside.

  I sat up quickly at that thought, spilling my water all over the hardwood floors, but I barely noticed the wetness as a quick, cold tremble ran through my body. That was the reason that Steve was so adamant earlier on the phone, almost to the point of becoming angry with me, about me turning around and coming back to stay with him. He was thinking the same thing. Before I could delve deeper into this new train of thought and concentrate on just who that person might be, my office phone rang. I sighed heavily as I looked over to see what acidic news agency was calling me now, surprised to see that the call was coming from Gabby’s house. Thank goodness, it was about time! I rea
lly needed her earlier today, and she never came back from her meeting or answered any of my numerous calls.

  A bit perturbed and ready to unleash a bit of my stress out in the form of a good ass chewing, I snatched up the receiver and snapped, “Gabby! Where have you been?!”

  There was a brief moment of silence before I heard the husky voice of a man say, “Is this Ms. Tanner?”

  I recognized the heavy Italian accent immediately and realized it was Jeff. I was embarrassed by my blurting out at him, assuming it was Gabby. Then it dawned on me; why was he calling me this late?

  “Jeff? Yes, this is Audra. I’m sorry for…” was all I could say before he interrupted me.

  “Yeah, Ms. Tanner, this is Jeff. Is Gabby there? I really need to speak with her,” came the deep baritone voice, one that sounded a bit slurred from one too many drinks.

  “No, Jeff, she isn’t. I assumed, after her excitement on booking The Castle today, that she just went home, maybe to celebrate with you?” I posed the timid question, and even as the words left my mouth, the stone that just dropped into my stomach sent the signal to my brain that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

  “She left me a voicemail that she was heading to The Castle, but I never did talk to her. I tried calling her cell all day today, and at first it just rang and rang, but now it’s going straight to voicemail. She said something in her message to me earlier that she had a flat tire, and I’m worried that she….” His deep voice trailed off, too macho to reveal the true emotions that he was feeling.

  “Jeff, when I talked to her today, she said she was riding with someone from The Time of Your Life up to The Castle to sign the papers, so she wasn’t in her car…”

  Before I could utter another word, Jeff interrupted me again and said, “I’m sorry I bothered you, Ms. Tanner,” and slammed the phone down loudly in my ear.

  Gabby was probably out celebrating away her good fortune and her phone just died. She would probably roll in any moment to his worried arms, maybe a bit tipsy from all her celebratory drinks and make it up to her future husband for scaring him. I wanted that to be the case, willed myself to believe that, but something was tickling the back of my mind, like the incessant prodding of invisible fingers drumming on a table, that she wasn’t out boozing it up. I chalked that nervousness up to the raw emotions of the day and decided I was overreacting, and besides, Gabby’s personal business was not mine. Who knows, maybe she got cold feet?

  I decided after that odd phone call that I was sick of all the excitement contained in one very long day and that it was time to pack up and head home since not only did I need to put the final touches on the presentation for tomorrow that I had yet to finish, thanks to Gabby’s absence, but I needed to pack for an extended stay in Summerset for the trial, which was predicted to last for weeks. I quickly sent an email to myself with a copy to Gabby to remember to call and cancel my hotel reservations in Summerset since, after last night, I decided I would stay with Steve. Of course, even if last night never materialized, Robert’s mysterious death would have been enough ammo for Steve to insist upon taking care of me anyway.

  As I stashed my laptop in my bag, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall and for a moment, I froze, wondering who in the hell was still at work this late. My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I glanced around my office for some sort of weapon to use to defend myself, my stressed-out brain thinking the worst. I quickly snatched my scissors off the desk in one hand and my cell in the other as I braced my body for whoever was coming my way, adrenaline pumping through me now at lightning speed. As the footfalls drew closer, their heaviness gave way to the fact that it must be a male, so I held my breath, kicked off my heels and steadied myself for battle as I stared at my office door.

  The footsteps stopped on the other side of my door, and just as I raised the scissors, ready to strike at the person on the other side once it opened, I heard a faint tap on the door, followed by a familiar voice saying, “Audra, are you still here?”

  I let out my breath in one huge whoosh of air at the sound of Carl’s voice and dropped the scissors back onto the desk, along with my phone. Hysterical laughter was fighting to erupt as the surge of adrenaline levels that put me in fight or flight mode just split seconds before quickly dropped, leaving me feeling a bit unsteady and a whole lot of paranoid. I found my voice and replied, “Hey, Carl, come on in.”

  Carl pushed the door open with his foot as his hands were both occupied carrying two glasses in one and a bottle of some sort of liquor in the other. He was smiling as he walked in and said, “Hey, I thought after today you might need a…” But that smile ceased and his sentence abruptly stopped as he looked at my face which I was sure was lovely pale white from my earlier bout with fear. “Audra, are you okay?” he said, setting the glasses down on the edge of my desk.

  Nerves shot to hell and legs full of Jell-o, I plopped back down in my soft leather seat and smiled awkwardly up at him as I responded, “Oh, I’m fine. I was just contemplating what orifice to shove those scissors into before I realized it was you.” I nodded my head toward the shiny weapon sitting on my desk.

  Carl’s pupils grew big for a split second as they followed my gaze to my desk, but his smile came back as he reached for one of the glasses he brought and quickly poured a drink.

  “I thought you might need a drink after today, but I was wrong; I think you need the entire bottle,” he said, smiling as he handed me a glass of the amber-colored liquid.

  The snide laughter that escaped my lips surprised not only Carl, but me as well. It came out like something that should have burst forth from some psychotic serial killer and not from a dainty businesswoman, but I reached over and accepted Carl’s glass of liquid memory killer and said, “You couldn’t have come at a better time, Carl.”

  Carl poured himself a drink and walked over to the couch in the corner and sat down, his gait a bit stiff and rigid, as opposed to his normally light stride. As stressful as the day had been on me, I knew it probably had been much worse on Carl, for he and his wife had been friends with Robert and Stacy for years, and Robert’s daughters occasionally babysat his son. I took a small sip of the strong-smelling contents of my glass, unsure as to exactly which kind of liquid fire it was since I never was much of a drinker, and I wrinkled my face as it slid down my throat, deciding that it must be some sort of tequila.

  Carl watched me struggle to get my first drink down and smiled the melancholy smile of someone that is not really smiling at the current events in front of himself, but rather, the images and memories swirling inside his head. He finally broke the quiet silence between the two of us and said, “It’s not your fault, Audra.”

  I stopped in the midst of my second sip attempt and just stared at him, my mouth slightly ajar. For a brief moment, I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his statement, but before I could respond, he continued.

  “The simple truth is that Robert couldn’t handle the fallout anymore. He was like a deflated balloon. All the years of suffering and hiding his secret kept him afloat, like he was willing himself to continue just to feel the pain. Once he released it though, there was nothing left inside him to punish him for what he did, and he couldn’t deal with that. He was too Catholic. He felt this was his cross to bear the rest of his life.”

  I eased forward to the edge of my chair as I listened to Carl ramble on about Robert, watching the words tumble out of his mouth as he desperately tried to keep his voice and lips from trembling as he spoke about his friend. I sensed that he wasn’t finished, so I remained quiet. He took another hefty swig and continued.

  “He was my colleague, yes, but also my friend, Audra. He was there for me at every marriage, every divorce, and every baby born. And he was the only other partner here, like me, that was devoted to his family, that never strayed from his bounds of marriage, never chased the skirts,” Carl said, his voice trailing off as he stared out the window at the teeming streets below, trying in vain to hide his face from me,
which, at this point, I was sure had tears running down it.

  “We hated all the things that went on here, and although we talked about it, we never pursued an avenue to change them. But now I know we had hugely different reasons. He was under Olin’s thumb, cornered, unable to stand up to him,” he said, the words thick and heavy now as one hand reached up and wiped his face. “But me? What was my excuse for my silence? Sadly, I don’t have one.”

  I took a deep breath and set my foul smelling drink on the table. I was so stunned to see this side of him that I was rendered speechless for a few moments, unsure what, if anything, I should say. Understanding male emotional breakdowns, which is what I sensed was coming, was not an arena I possessed much experience in, so I chose my words carefully, especially since the possibility was quite high that Robert’s death was not some tragic accident or suicide.

  “Carl, I can’t imagine how hard this day must have been for you, losing your friend like this. Plus you assisted me in dealing with the media storm that ensued once they found out. Today, you were a staunch defender of the firm, as well as your friend, and that just shows the depth of character that you have. As for living in the past, dwelling on the “what if’s” and the “what could have been’s”…well, although me dispensing advice on that subject is rather hypocritical, might I offer this thought, passed along by a friend, to me? Don’t carry that heavy weight around with you. You cannot alter what is done, only what has yet to be.”

  Carl just continued to stare out the window as he quietly nodded his agreement. I decided not to touch the comment about guilt since that was my Achilles heel, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I was able to carry on a conversation about those feelings with anyone just yet. Before I could say anything else, Carl finally turned to look at me, the sadness in his eyes dancing dangerously close to bitterness as he said, “How did you do it, Audra? How did you hide for so long what happened to you? I mean, did you share your feelings with anyone? Wasn’t there someone you felt close enough to talk to about it?”