Innocent Little Crimes

by C. S. Lakin

  Through the long night, Peter had listened to Lila as she spoke with passion and concentration. He watched a fleet of emotions cross her face as she poured out her story. And now, the house was too quiet. Maybe her guests had returned from their mad folly and were sleeping hard. But he would have heard the huge door open and close in the night, a sound that reverberated off every wall in the house. Through the thickness of his thoughts, he discerned that Lila’s guests were still outside, and had been out in the cold and violent storm for hours.

  He reached over and shook Lila.

  “Where’s the fire?” she moaned. Lila pulled a blanket over her head. Peter yanked it off.

  “Come on, your highness, you’ve got to get up.”

  Lila lifted her head and glared at the window. Then she turned and grimaced at Peter. “What the hell are you waking me for? It’s not even daylight yet. You have some nerve—”

  “Listen, Li. You’ve got a group of guests wandering somewhere out in the dark.”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Lila!”

  Lila sat up and looked Peter in the eye. Her head swayed from side to side. “Haven’t you heard a single damn thing I’ve said to you all night? Let them all freeze to death out there. That’s what they deserve.” She waved a weak hand toward the door. “Why don’t you go downstairs and make sure the front door is locked. Then we’ll never be bothered again.” She retreated under her blanket.

  “You don’t really mean that.”

  “You care about them so much, go join ’em. Go ahead.” Lila grunted and turned her back to Peter. “I thought you’d understand, but you’re just like them.”

  Peter shook his head. “Lila, come on.” He searched for words. “Sure, I can understand you being bitter. What they did to you was low, but it was a long time ago . . .”

  Lila jerked back around and poked her head out. “Oh, Avon, don’t you start in with that excuse, like the rest of them.” Lila whined in a high-pitched voice. “Oh, Lila, we were so young, we didn’t know what we were doing. It was so long ago and we were mere babes.” She scowled. “I don’t care if it was a fucking million years ago. There’s no statute of limitations here. A crime was committed, so they have to pay.”

  “Hey, I’ve seen you do a hell of a lot worse to people over the years.”

  “There’s a difference, Avon, a big difference. The people I screw are rotten, manipulative people who deserve what for. But, when these bastards did it to me, I was an innocent. Trusting, naive, goodhearted. They had no right to do it. And they need to be taught a lesson.”

  “Looks like you’ve been paying them back for years. Years.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “Then what is?”

  “With some crimes, no punishment is great enough. They destroyed me. With their heartless, selfish fun, they destroyed me.”

  Peter waited for her anger to subside. “From what you’ve told me, you’re trying to get back at the wrong people. They aren’t the ones who destroyed you. It started long before them. Your father—”

  “Oh, pul-eeze, Freud. Can it with the pop psychology.” Lila threw her covers off. “Okay, I’m awake. Are you happy now? Now that you’ve piqued my curiosity, I’m ready to go.”

  “Where?”

  “On a wolf hunt, you idiot! Get your coat, Avon. I can’t wait to see what condition those frightened rats are in.”

  As she raced across the sand, Cynthia kept her flashlight pinned on the sets of footprints. She was so weary; running took unbelievable effort. The ocean crashed and roared like some fierce animal let loose. The rain had been beating her for hours, etching her delicate face raw. As she crested the rise, Cynthia cried out in relief, when, down below, she spotted the shapes of people. Then, with a quick scan of her light, she realized in horror that Davis was not among them. A moment later, as a wave sent the group scurrying back up the beach, she noticed his supine body in the water.

  “Oh my God! Davis!” No one was helping him. Her anger fueled her feet, and she raced past the immobile figures on the beach to the edge of the churning water. Davis lifted his face up from the sand. He strained to look into her eyes.

  “Cyn, is that you?” He managed a weak laugh. “I thought I was hallucinating.”

  “Jesus, Davis.” She pulled at his arm as the water receded. “Get up! What are you doing? I can’t lift you.” Her voice screeched over the deafening noise of the sea. “What’s wrong with all of you? Help him, dammit.”

  As Davis struggled to get onto his knees, the others edged toward the water. Cynthia looked up and saw anger in their eyes. She screamed at them.

  “What in the hell were you trying to do to him? Kill him? You’re all sick, sick!” Cynthia tugged Davis’s drenched sleeve. “Look at you. You should see the expressions on your faces. Lila’s turned you into wolves. She’s the one you should be furious with. She’s the one who ruined your lives. Not Davis.”

  “No one’s trying to kill him,” Della said. “We’re just trying to get him to come to his senses.”

  “Like this? Pushing him into the water?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “He went into the water on his own. We didn’t force him.”

  “He wouldn’t come back with us,” said Dick.

  “For God’s sake!” Again, Cynthia pulled Davis’s arm. “Come on!”

  “Give me a sec, hon,” Davis muttered with a lopsided grin. “I can’t feel my legs.”

  “You don’t have a second. We have to get you onto the beach.”

  Cynthia shone her flashlight into Della’s eyes. Then Jonathan’s, then Dick’s and Millie’s. They all stood back, watching the water race back up around Davis’s legs.

  “Millie, help me,” Cynthia pleaded. “Don’t just stand there and do nothing.”

  Millie waited until the water washed back down, then inched over to Cynthia’s side. She took hold of Davis’s other arm and tugged.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not very strong . . .”

  Millie sobbed, losing her grip on Davis as she collapsed onto the sand. Cynthia glared at her.

  “Dammit, Jonathan, get over here. Dick!” The two men stood motionless, watching in fascination as the water surrounded Davis and lifted him, carrying him back toward the sea, with Cynthia dragging beside him. Davis fell on his side and struggled once more to get up. A deep rolling chuckle spilled from his mouth.

  Cynthia, still clutching his arm, stared at him, puzzled. “Why are you laughing?”

  Davis shrugged. How could she understand? There was no Davis Gregory. The Davis she knew was an illusion. A creation of Lila Carmichael. The whole empire in Marin, his kingdom of gold, was a meager sand castle, now being washed away by the ocean. He even felt like a sand castle himself, eroding away one wave at a time. Cynthia would never marry him now. He was a nothing. The futility of his task overwhelmed him. He was fooling himself about getting back to Marin and finding salvation. There was nothing left. Lila had been too clever and too careful. She had all those years of scheming on him. He would have to admit defeat. He knew that was all she was after. She didn’t want to marry him. She just wanted to see him suffer, as she suffered. And somewhere under all the numbness it made sense. He understood.

  “Now, isn’t that a pretty sight.”

  Davis and the others lifted their heads and looked up the beach. Lila stood with Peter by her side, poised above them on a rise of sand. She shined a piercing beam upon them. Her coat flapped in the wind as rain poured down.

  “Are you dragging him in or out of the water? What did I miss?”

  Cynthia let go of Davis and rose to her feet.

  “You sent them to kill him!”

  As Lila neared, Cynthia grabbed her coat. Lila pushed her off like she would a groveling dog.

  “I did no such thing. I only wanted them to use a little persuasion.”

  Lila squatted in front of Davis, who struggled up onto his hands and knees. “Well, loverboy, have your friends convinced you to give up?”
<
br />   “Do I have a choice?” Water streamed off his clothes. “You win, Lila. But, like they say, you won the battle and lost the war. You know that.”

  Lila pressed closer to Davis’s face. So many years ago—the last time she was this close to his eyes, his lips. The memory of his features pained her. They linked her unbidden to another place, another lifetime. How could that innocent, naive, love-struck girl have been her? Repulsion filled her every pore. Repulsion at Davis and repulsion with herself.

  “I’m no loser, Davis.” She spit the words into his face. “I have everything, everything!”

  Cynthia yanked again at Davis’s sleeve. “But, you don’t have love, Lila,” she said. “You wouldn’t know love if it slapped you in the face.”

  “Oh pul-eeze. Bring out the violins.”

  The five others watched silently at the water’s edge. Lila glanced over at Peter, knowing he fought the urge to run down to help. She turned back to Davis. “Well, loverboy, have you changed your mind about marrying Cynthia?”

  Davis only moaned.

  “Or maybe the little princess has changed her mind.” She turned to Cynthia. “You still want this poor, tragic nothing?”

  “So you take away his money. So what? He can start all over again. At least he has a kind heart.”

  Lila straightened and glared at Cynthia. “Haven’t you learned anything this weekend—you with your rose-colored glasses? Your fiancé’s a fake, a schemer. He lied to you. And he lied to me. He took the heart of an innocent, trusting girl and ripped it to shreds. There’s a monster under that Ultra-Brite smile.”

  “I guess saying sorry isn’t enough,” Davis mumbled.

  “You’re damn right.” Lila stepped closer to Davis. The icy water rushed around her ankles, but she didn’t care. She burned with fury.

  Cynthia released her hold on Davis. “Get up, Davis. Please try.”

  Lila ignored her. “I had two weeks of happiness in my entire life. Two fucking weeks in thirty-five years.”

  “I’m sorry,” Davis murmured. He let his cheek drop to the sand. “You know, I really did like you, you were a sweet kid. Serious, funny . . .” Lila heard his shallow breathing. “It just got out of hand . . . I was cruel.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “But, honestly, I never intended to hurt you . . .”

  Lila panted. She felt the anger drain from her face. Her whole body shook. She’d waited fifteen years to make Davis say he was sorry. But now, hearing his apology didn’t fuel her sense of victory and vengeance. Instead, she felt sick all over. Her heart began to ache.

  Lila looked in his eyes. She had been fooled by that warmth before, that mock humility. She leaned into his face. “Maybe you cared. A little. But what you did was unforgivable. You bastard.” Lila fought back the tears, but they ran down her cheeks, mingling with the rain.

  Davis seemed to force the words from his mouth. “. . . Yes, you’re right . . . Forgive me?”

  Cynthia hoisted him up, her arms under his armpits. “You can do it, darling. Try.” To Lila, she said, “It’s over. Over. You made your point, now help me get him out of here.”

  Still in tears, Lila reached out to grab Davis’s arm. Behind her, she heard Peter yelling.

  “Lila, watch out!”

  She looked back at Peter, silhouetted on the dune with the glaring morning sun rising over his shoulder. He was pointing to the sea, waving his arm wildly. Then Millie screamed.

  In one moment, Lila heard the deafening crash, and in another became engulfed in water. What was it called? she wondered, as the wave assaulted her. The dreadful, fearful ninth wave. The mother of all waves.

  An image drifted into her mind. That terrible day when her father forced her face under water to baptize her. She was eight years old. What was it he said? Something about repentance for the remission of sins? Repent. And ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. In ablution, your sins shall be washed away.

  Something was being washed away, from deep inside her, and from all around her.

  For a few seconds, her hand gripped Davis’s sleeve, and then he was wrenched from her grasp. She stumbled forward into the swirling, chilling foam and landed on her knees. The cold knocked the air from her lungs. She crawled away from the impelling water, like a lemming struggling up the beach. When she caught her breath, she dragged her body around and looked back at the ocean. Cynthia lay on the sand in her sodden coat, coughing water from her mouth.

  “Davis,” Lila screamed, “Davis, where are you?” She spun in circles, dragging herself in spurts up and down the edge of the water. The others joined her, racing down as soon as the monstrous wave subsided. Jonathan and Dick waded out into the water with careful strides.

  “Find him, oh please, find him!” Lila shrieked. She collapsed onto the wet sand and wiped hair from her face. Cynthia stood a few feet away, still as a statue, her gaze fixed out over the surf.

  Lila felt someone’s arms lifting her. She rubbed sand from her eyes and looked up. For a moment she was back at college, on Davis’s rug by the warming fire.

  “Davis . . . ?”

  Peter shook his head. His eyes reflected pain. “Are you all right?”

  Lila nodded. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Her body felt like a block of ice.

  Peter studied her. “Wait here.” He ran to the water’s edge to join the others.

  Lila fell back down on the sand. Anesthetized, she watched the scene unfold before her. A scene from a horror film.

  A sliver of daylight illuminated the water. Clouds parted and broke up in mosaics across the pink expanse of the dawn sky. At the water’s edge, six people plowed their arms through the water, as if sifting through sand. Waves rhythmically spilled at their feet, then receded on cue. She heard the cast shouting impotently. Then another shout from off-stage. Two people dragged something out of the water and up onto the beach.

  She watched, emotionally vacant, as Peter tried vainly to resuscitate the body. The rest of the group assembled, as if in prayer, over what lay in their midst.

  The camera angle was wrong, she thought in irritation. She couldn’t see anything—just their backs, bent over.

  Like a circle of wolves engulfing their prey.

  Cynthia was right. It was over.

  Chapter 29

  September 12

  Tacoma, Washington

  “You’re darn lucky, you know that?” Ida Ferrol glared at her son, Dick. She poured him a cup of tea from her silver service and stared out the window at her manicured lawn.

  Dick listened to his mother’s rambling with less than full attention. He was still shaky, replaying in his mind the sentencing of the day’s trial, with Millie and his mother in attendance at the back of the courtroom. Two years probation. No jail time. Thank God! Although, he knew he should be down on his knees thanking his mother. She was the one who came up with the bail money and the smart-assed lawyer, some friend of hers from church. But Dick knew he would never, ever be able to thank her enough; she would make sure of that. Now that Millie was out of his life, Ida Ferrol was unrelenting in her demand for adoration and obedience. What could he do? The divorce would be final in two weeks and Millie got nearly everything. So what? What did he need from that dump of a place anyway?

  Dick mustered a defeatist’s smile. The money he had stashed away was confiscated, he had no job, and Penny wouldn’t give him the time of day. His career in politics was over—kaput. Even Lila would have been hard pressed to make his life more disastrous. But, at least he avoided jail. Relief spread through his limbs as his mother’s voice filtered into his head.

  “. . . and be sure to trim back those heavy branches as well. First thing in the morning. Dick, are you listening?”

  Dick focused on Ida. “Yes, mother.”

  “And when you’re through, be sure to go see my friend Larry. At the Hardware store. He’s expecting you.” Ida sipped her tea with a look of distaste. Dick knew it wasn’t the tea making her grimace. “You know, Larry’s being quite kind t
o offer you a job, considering your lack of experience. I hope you appreciate it.”

  “I do,” Dick said, forcing his voice to sound polite. “I really appreciate all your help, Mother.”

  Ida grunted in reply.

  Dick was washing dishes when Ida came in to say goodnight. She surveyed the tidy room and showed her approval with a brisk nod of her head. “See you in the morning.”

  “Right.” Dick dried his hands and walked into the den. All the furniture was early American, with dust covers on everything. Even the carpet was covered with clear plastic runners, in case someone tracked in mud. The quietness of this house still unnerved him. Just last week, the girls had been over, even spent the night. He never realized how much he loved them. How much he missed hearing them laugh and play in the house. Millie was agreeable to giving him weekends and holidays with the girls. At least they were talking—that was something. Soon, he would get his own place and figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Maybe teach poli-sci at the college. He was qualified for that. And to be around all the young coeds . . .

  He checked to make sure his mother’s door was closed, and then turned on the television, with the sound barely audible. He scooted the footstool up close to the set so he could hear.

  Absently, he flicked through the channels, avoiding the local news. The last thing he wanted to hear was the play-by-play of his own trial. He hesitated at HBO—the only pay channel his mother allowed herself. He flinched, recognizing the unmistakable figure and face. With morbid fascination, he turned the volume up and craned his neck to listen.

  There was Lila, all alone on an immense stage. Amazing how this small woman had yielded so much power over his insignificant life. As he watched Lila move, it occurred to him that all his troubles revolved around women. He always let women rule him. Millie had tricked him into marriage. Lila had maneuvered him into crime and litigation. Penny seduced him into treachery. And his mother. The sooner he got out from under her influence, the better. Here was his chance to start all over again, without women manipulating his life.