"Oh so you managed to get him on the phone."
"Yes."
She pulled out a pair of glasses and filled one with water from the tap. The other she filled with lemonade from the fridge. He'd asked for water, so he would get water.
It was an awkward thirty minutes of waiting for Kevin to come home. Detective Placard tried to make conversation, but Marie busied herself with the papers she had yet to grade. It wasn't exactly good manners to ignore a guest, but the last thing she really wanted to do was talk to him. What she really wanted was for Kevin to come home and make all of this disappear like something out of one of his shows. Cover it all up with a sheet and make it not there anymore. It probably wouldn't be that easy though. Things involving the police rarely were.
Kevin let himself in. He wore different clothes from when he left, a blue t-shirt and black slacks over his old shoes. His hair was slicked back from his forehead like it usually was when he came out of his makeup. In short, he looked as if he had just finished a show. Marie blinked at the thought and pushed it away. He didn't do shows during the day.
"Hi," Kevin said. "I'm Kevin Ellis. I understand you were looking for me."
"Yes indeed, I was. I'm Detective Alvin Placard. Do you want to see my credentials?"
"No, my wife let you in, I'm going to assume you convinced her and that's good enough for me."
"Well, is there some way we could talk privately?" Marie didn't miss the detective's request, but she didn't move at first. She looked from him to Kevin and waited for some signal of what Kevin wanted her to do. The same instincts that had said don't leave the detective alone in her living room were telling her not to leave the two of them alone together. As if something terrible would happen if she stepped out of the room.
"I think anything we have to discuss can be said in front of my wife," Kevin said. "She knows everything."
"All right then. You can start by telling me where you were two nights ago."
"I was sitting in Marco's bar alone drinking gin and tonic," he said. "Marie and I had a fight. I was spending some time away to give her a chance to cool down."
"Oh," was all the detective said. However, he pulled out a notepad and said, "Say the name of the bar for me again."
"Marco's. It's a dive off Sunset near the Ombre Hotel."
"Yes, of course." Alvin scribbled a few words. "And you were there the whole night."
"As much as I remember. I ended up back in my hotel room before dawn."
"How many drinks did you have?"
"I don't remember. I was pretty torn up."
"Ah huh."
"What does this have to do with Sylvia?" Kevin asked. "Is there something wrong?"
"Your lover, Sylvia Bridge, is dead."
Marie watched Kevin's face contort before she lowered her eyes. For several long moments, he made faces ranging from disbelief to despair. Then in a low voice, he asked,
"How?" Then as if that weren't clear enough, he said, "How did it happen?"
"She was beaten severely."
Marie had moved from watching Kevin to watching the detective, who seemed as if he were cataloging specimens for a collection he paid such close attention to Kevin. What was he looking for? Marie could guess. She had read enough detective novels to know he sought signs of guilt in Kevin. Anything that might give him a reason to be suspicious.
"You've had some previous trouble with the law," Alvin said.
"Yes. When I was younger. I got into some trouble. My parents bailed me out. It was nothing serious."
"I would say it was pretty serious. You nearly beat another boy to death. You've got something of a temper."
"I had something of a temper," Kevin said. "But I can guarantee you; I had nothing to do with this."
"Well, I'll be checking your alibi, if you don't mind." The faked deference set Marie's teeth on edge. "While I'm at it," he continued. "Mrs. Ellis, would you like to account for your whereabouts on the night in question? Two nights ago."
"I was here, alone. As Kevin said, we'd had a fight and weren't speaking, so I had the house to myself."
"Can anyone corroborate that?"
"No. I was home alone. I didn't call anybody. I didn't go anywhere. Not even a delivery pizza."
"Is that so?"
"You're not going to try and pin this on my wife," Kevin said.
"I'm not trying to pin anything on anyone. A lovely young woman is dead. Someone is responsible. It's my job to find out who." He shoved his notepad back into his inner jacket pocket and stood up. "I would suggest that the two of you cooperate with my investigation."
"Or what?" Kevin stiffened to his full height, his hands balled into fists.
"You might find yourself on the wrong end of it, Mr. Ellis." The detective saw himself to the door. "It was a pleasure talking to you both. I hope this will be the last time, but in case I need to call, I have your number."
Marie shut her eyes as the door opened and he let himself out. With a sigh, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
"The nerve, to come in here and accuse us."
"Kevin, were you really at Marco's?"
"You want to doubt me too?" he asked. Marie reacted as if slapped.
"No, but this would be the worst time to lie."
"I've been at Marco's every night since I left here. I've been staying at the Ombre hotel because I know the night manager there and she's willing to let me run a tab in exchange for me doing some dinner theater for her."
There was nothing she could say to that, so she held her peace. She shuffled papers from one pile to another, absently reading names and first lines. In most cases, the first lines were passable. Not great but okay. One stuck out to her.
Autumn made way for Winter the way a bridesmaid did for a bride and Arthur awaited it like a groom.
The image was a beautiful one and it served as a good distraction from the moment. When she looked up again, Kevin was gone, but she could hear him in the kitchen. The water glass the detective had used was on a side table next to the blue lamp. Picking up her glass and the detective's, Marie moved into the kitchen. Kevin was pouring whiskey into a shot glass with a parrot on the side.
"What are you doing?"
"Having a shot."
"Drinking in the middle of the day, really?"
"I need to steady my nerves and you're not one to talk."
She set the glasses down with twin clinks then stood there staring at him as he knocked the shot back with a wince.
"Kevin, I love you."
"But you don't trust me," he said.
When he reached for the whiskey bottle again, she stopped him.
"I love you," she said again.
"I love you too." He released the bottle and dropped the shot glass in the sink with a thud. "I'm going to go lie down. If that's okay."
"It's fine; I still have papers to grade."
"Can't convince you to leave it and come lie down with me?" A quirk of a smile was on his lips, maybe an apology? Marie rubbed the back of her neck then shook her head.
"I've really got to get this finished this week. Otherwise, I won't have my grades in on time."
If he was disappointed, he didn't show it. After planting a kiss on her forehead, he headed down the hall to their bedroom. Marie turned back to the living room and small hill of papers she had left. It would only take another couple hours. Maybe they could lie down together later.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After the detective's visit, Marie and Kevin settled into an unsteady truce. He fixed up his affairs and came home. She tried her best not to treat him as if he had done something wrong. To say things were going smoothly would be an outright lie. He slept on the couch while she took up their bedroom. They both lay awake at night listening for the other. Things progressed as if there were a wall built between them that neither could account for nor figure out how to cross.
That was the state of affairs when Marie went to sleep with plot elements creeping aro
und in her head from the work she was doing. The new book was starting to shape up. Good thing since the deadline was getting closer every day and it was still a long way from completion. She lay down under a dark blue jersey cotton sheet. As she drifted off, her hands clutched and released the top edge starting to show thread from just such constant activity. Above her, a mural stared from the ceiling. It depicted her and Kevin as angels. It was Naomie's wedding gift to them, a one of a kind piece of art. Everything was soft and with the noises of night going on around her, Marie was lulled away swiftly.
She awoke in an apartment living room she had no recollection of. Marie rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. There was someone else in the room with her. It took her a moment to recognize Sylvia. The woman stood with her back to Marie lighting a candle. A tabby cat stalked across the floor and into the deeper recesses of the apartment. Sylvia stepped away from the candle and Marie could see the wall beyond the woman.
Her eyes widened.
Pictures dominated the wall. Snapshots, press photos, promotional work, all of it cropped at strange angles and held together. Kevin was in each and every shot, but it wasn't Kevin in his normal face, it was him in his make up as Mephisto. The dark rimmed eyes and red contacts stared dramatically out from the center which was a poster Kevin had done years before when he was still trying to get permanent bookings. In that shot, he held a black rose out to the onlooker with a smile on his face that said terrible things were likely to happen if you took it. The flicker of flame licked each side of this shrine and made some of the shots all the more ghastly.
Standing nearby, Sylvia caressed the entire thing with her eyes.
"I'll wait for you," she said. "I'll wait for you to see the truth."
Marie's legs were numb underneath her as she stood up. Previously, Sylvia had been Kevin's assistant, the pretty distraction that helped him do some of his tricks. That was the way things were when Marie met him. Two starving magicians trying to make it in the world. Things didn't change when Kevin began seeing Marie. It was still he and Sylvia taking on the nonbelievers and making them see magic. When Marie and Kevin got married, Sylvia was a close family friend, welcome in their home. That changed when Marie caught Sylvia and Kevin together. She demanded Sylvia be shown the door and to save his marriage, Kevin had done exactly that. Except she didn't go away.
Marie stumbled toward Sylvia wishing she could shake her and make her see reason. She stopped before she reached her however.
Sylvia was dead. Detective Placard had said so. Marie looked around again. The room was dark save for the bright flames of the candles. What was she seeing? Sylvia moved to trace her fingers around the lips on the poster.
"You'll see it soon. She can't keep you forever. You and I belong together."
The dream woman didn't notice, but Marie did when a curl of smoke walked out of the hallway. It thickened into a coil like a leg and widened to engulf the entire hall. Beyond it, something dragged.
Sylvia continued to murmur to herself.
A strange certainty descended on Marie's thoughts. She was going to see something impossible. What, she knew but could hardly admit it to herself. Caught in a slowness only dreams can manage, Marie moved across the floor and reached out to grab Sylvia to drag her away from the danger. Then it came out of the hallway. Marie was fingertips away from the woman when she was struck the first time. The sound of something breaking seemed muffled as she hit the floor. Sylvia staggered to her feet and took in what was before her for the first time.
She opened her mouth to scream.
The end of the scythe hit her in the chest so hard several ribs splintered. Coughing, she tried to find her breath, doubled over from the pain. With a wicker whipping sound, bony hands brought the scythe down on her back driving her to the floor.
She was beaten severely; the detective's words came back to Marie as she watched the blood come out of Sylvia's mouth in a thick splash.
"Please."
Marie reached for her as the word came out of Sylvia's mouth. Anything to stop this, but she couldn't stop it. She could only watch from her knees as the creature that was pure imagination put his thick soled boot down on Sylvia's neck and crushed the life out of her throat. All she could do was watch.
When Sylvia had ceased to struggle, the cowled monster dipped his fingers into the blood on the floor and went to the wall of photos. Though there certainly hadn't been enough to do much, it drew for some time, detailing its picture for all to see. Marie could only watch.
The symbol it drew was familiar to her, intimately so. She had conceived it. The curved scythe in the moon, the symbol of the Dark King. It marked what was his and with her death, Sylvia had become his.
Marie woke up struggling to breath, the sheet wrapped shroud tight around her body. Squirming loose, she got out of bed. At first her legs didn't want to carry her, but she forced herself into the living room. Kevin was there lying on the couch the television playing on low volume to sooth him. Unthinking, she shook him.
He started awake and asked,
"Where's the fire?"
"I," now that she had to say something it all seemed rather silly. It was a bad dream. Nothing more. Kneeling there in the TV glow, she steadied her breathing.
Kevin reached out and drew her hair away from her face so that he could fully see her eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"I had a bad dream. About Sylvia. I saw the Gravekeeper beat her to death."
Clouded blue eyes moved lazily over her waiting for her to say something more but there wasn't anything else to say. She had seen it, so she just kept her mouth shut. Kevin scratched his head and tugged at the edges of his sandy blond hair.
"You had a bad dream about the Gravekeeper beating Sylvia to death?" He yawned hard at the end of the sentence. "It was a bad dream, go back to bed."
"Kevin, it was real."
"No, it felt real. Dreams can do that. Go back to bed. You'll dream something else and it'll feel real too." He shut his eyes and laid back down.
"Kevin, how can I dream something I don't know? I don't know how Sylvia died."
"You have an active imagination." He didn't open his eyes. "It's one of the things I love about you. You came up with something. I swear, you are making something out of nothing." Turning on his side, he threw his arm over his head. "Go back to bed."
Faced with his abject disinterest, Marie could not do much. There she was feeling helpless again. Just as she had when Sylvia was being killed. Except in this case, she simply couldn't make him believe what he thought was impossible.
Her right knee popped as she got up and headed for the kitchen. It might have been the middle of the night, but she needed something to ease her back to sleep. Preferably without dreams. She fixed herself a glass of water and carried it into the bathroom with her. In the cabinet above the sink was a bottle of prescription sleep aids. It would do nicely to usher her back into restful sleep without having to pass through the nightmare of seeing Sylvia die all over again.
Marie shook out two, popped them in her mouth, and then drained her glass. They would take a little while to work, so she was going to have to keep herself occupied long enough for the medication to start doing its job. Coming out of the bathroom, she looked at the door of her office which was really a spare bedroom. There was undoubtedly something she could be reading to pass the time though she certainly wouldn't try to grade this late at night. Otherwise, she could go back to the living room and watch television while she waited. Kevin didn't care what channel it was on as long as it was on. Strangely, he didn't need it all the time, just when he slept alone.
The idea of going back up there and crawling in next to him was strong, but she wouldn't do it. The middle of the night just wasn't the right time for anything substantial. It was the time of dreams and wishes, but not practical things. She went into her office and picked the first set of papers up off the desk. Flopping into her chair, she started reading.
Carrie swallowed hard
and tried in vain to speak against the accusation. Nothing came out.
This might have been riveting when she was more awake, but half-asleep and trying to come down from a nightmare it simply didn't have the punch it needed. Dropping the papers back on the pile, she considered her options. There was going back to bed and there was television. If she laid down again too soon, she was just as likely as not to end up back in the same nightmare all over again or worse a new one. That left television. She padded back up front and settled in the arm chair, curling up into a ball. It was the hour of infomercials and reruns, nothing really captivating on, but it didn't have to be captivating, just enough to keep her attention.
A woman was peeling potatoes with what looked like a tube of lipstick. Marie tilted her head trying without success to get a better look at it. For all she knew, it was a tube of lipstick with a razor stuck in it somewhere. The woman was smiling, all bright shiny teeth surrounded by off color lipstick, for the camera. Her cheeks were too rosy, obviously made up for the show. It was hard to tell if it was intentional or the makeup artist had just had an off day. With a flutter, Marie's eyelids began to close as the medicine worked its magic. The last thing she remembered seeing was the woman in the off color lipstick throwing a bunch of the peeled potato into a fryer.
Waking up was slow. It always was when she took medicine to sleep. The sound of something being chopped brought her around. Blinking, she popped the crick in her neck. She'd fallen asleep curled up in the armchair and it wasn't all the forgiving anymore. She ran her fingers over the paisley fabric and then stretched as much as she could despite protesting muscles.
Kevin stuck his head out of the kitchen.
"Wake?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good, breakfast is about done." Then he disappeared back into the kitchen. With a shake of her head, she popped her neck again before rubbing her eyes. There had been no more dreams, so things had worked out the way she wanted. However, she might have been better off if she had simply gone back to bed. Her legs and back wouldn't be protesting quite so loudly if she had. She sniffed the air.
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