Mortal Friends

by Jane Stanton Hitchcock

  Grant nodded.

  “Did you know Violet was married before she met me, and that her husband eventually wound up in jail?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Imagine! My wife, the president of the Potomac Bank’s wife, was once married to a jailbird. This woman wanted a million dollars to keep her mouth shut.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told her I’d give her a hundred thousand dollars cash the next day, and the balance in a week. The next afternoon, I took a gym bag full of hundreds to a mattress store up on Rockville Pike, like she asked me to. She was in the store, but we didn’t talk. I just put it down on the floor and left.”

  “Did you tell Violet?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” I was mystified.

  “I didn’t want her to know that someone was blackmailing my family because of her. I needed to protect her, and to protect us.”

  This screwy reasoning was so typical Grant. The O. Henry story anecdote now made sense.

  “But weren’t you curious to know who Violet really was, and why she’d lied to everyone, and, for that matter, who this person was who was blackmailing you?”

  Grant thought for a second. “I probably should have been. But what was the point? I couldn’t change the past. My job was to protect our future. If I’d confronted Violet, she probably would have told you. You would have told someone. It would eventually have gotten out. Don’t you see? A thing like this could ruin us. Tell me something. Did you know Violet had an unsavory past?”

  “No. And I still don’t. We can’t all be judged by our ex-husbands and-wives, Grant. You don’t know that Violet’s done anything to be ashamed of. A bad romantic choice doesn’t make her a criminal.”

  “You’re a good friend, Reven. But I don’t see it that way, I’m sorry to say.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Two weeks later, I met this woman again in the park at dusk, so no one would see us. I brought her the key to a storage facility where the balance of the money was. Before I gave her the key I told her I wanted her promise that she would leave me and my family alone from then on. But you know what she said?”

  “What?”

  “She said she wanted more money. Two million dollars, or else she’d put those pictures of Violet on the Internet and tell everybody about her past. I couldn’t believe it. We had a deal. When I told her I wasn’t going to give her any more money, she laughed at me.”

  He said this as though she’d spit on him. For Grant, all laughter was the kiss of the devil. He didn’t see it as a joyful or playful expression, but as something shameful or shaming. In this case, he was probably right.

  “What did you do?”

  “I lost my temper,” he said quietly. “She was obviously a terrible person. I knew I’d never be rid of her. People like that have no decency, no honor. They never keep their side of a bargain. You have to deal harshly with them. Very harshly. You must silence them forever.”

  I suddenly realized what he was telling me.

  “Grant, are you saying that you killed her?”

  He gave me a slow, solemn nod, like a royal assent. “I had to, don’t you see? I didn’t want to. She made me. Asking for more money like that when we’d made a deal? It was outrageous. A person like that could irreparably damage the bank. The Potomac Bank is my family’s legacy. It will belong to Tee one day. When she threatened me, it was like threatening my child. And, of course, I didn’t want Tee to know that his mother wasn’t who she said she was. And my parents? They love Violet. My mother doesn’t like to have her judgment questioned. She’s never wrong. If she found out about Violet, it would just kill her.”

  It suddenly dawned on me that I was face to face with a certain kind of evil, and that I’d once again failed to recognize it. I had never even sensed it because, as Gunner once said, it looked so much like me. Grant was so familiar that I couldn’t see his true nature.

  “Jesus, Grant, I can’t believe you killed her,” I whispered.

  “You know, sometimes I can’t believe it myself,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know what happened. I just snapped. This fury came over me like a madness. It was almost like I was watching another person. When she demanded more money and laughed at me, I hauled off and hit her in the face. I’d never hit a woman before. But she wasn’t really a woman. She was an evil thing. I hit her much harder than I thought, because she fell down and didn’t get up right away. I stood over this thing, looking down at it. It was looking up at me with those cloudy eyes. I picked up a rock and hit it again and again until the eyes closed. Then I realized what I’d done.”

  He paused to collect himself, then continued. “I knew all about the Beltway Basher from Violet, so I tried to make it look like those other murders. I thought it was worth a shot.”

  My mouth was dry with fear. “You took a human life, Grant. Didn’t you feel anything?”

  “To be honest? I was much more frightened of getting caught. I don’t know if I could make a jury understand why that awful woman had to die. There was a fair amount of blood. Luckily, I had on a coat. I turned it inside out to get out of the park. I even took the rock with me. That’s what comes of living with a crime buff. I had to sneak into my own house. I drove to Maryland to get rid of those clothes and that rock, even the shoes. I thought I’d feel relieved when I got rid of the evidence, but I didn’t.” He sighed, sounding vaguely perplexed.

  “Were you having an affair with Cynthia then?”

  “No. I’d resisted. That day you saw us in the house was the first time we consummated our relationship. I became a different person after…” His voice trailed off. “And to be perfectly honest, I resented Violet for putting me in this position.”

  “You blame Violet for the fact that you killed someone?”

  “None of this would have happened if Violet hadn’t lied.”

  “So you left her.”

  “Yes. I needed to think of myself for a change.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “So why on earth did you go back to her?”

  Grant looked at me as though it were obvious. “How could I possibly stay with Cynthia when she might very well get indicted? Mother told me it would look much better for the family if I went back to my wife and child. I agreed with her.”

  “So you went back to Violet because Rainy told you to?”

  “Mother understands what’s best for this family. She always has. She took to Violet immediately. I can’t believe her judgment was so wrong. You know, Mother meets everyone we employ at the bank. Her instincts are always correct. I couldn’t bear for her to find out how wrong she was about my wife.”

  I’d always known that Grant was a mama’s boy, but this took the cake.

  “Why are you here this morning? Where’s Violet?”

  “Last night Violet confessed everything to me. I acted like I didn’t know anything. She said that this woman you all had gone to school with found out about her past and had tried to blackmail her. She said this woman was the one who got murdered up in Montrose Park, and that that Detective Gunner suspected Violet had killed her to keep her quiet.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told Violet I’d handle it. And I have handled it.”

  When he said this, I got a queasy feeling.

  “Oh, my God—where’s Gunner?” I looked around in a panic. “Where is Gunner?”

  Grant’s right hand slid out from his pocket. He was holding a gun that he pointed directly at me. He cleared his throat and spoke in a low, even tone.

  “I met Detective Gunner here earlier. He knew me, of course. I asked him to go for a little walk so I could explain things to him. I told him that Violet had confessed to me that she’d killed Nancy Sawtelle, and she was home preparing to give herself up.”

  “Grant! You mean to say you were going to frame Violet for what you did?”

  He cocked his head to one side and said earnestly, “No. I would never do that. But I had to
put him off his guard, didn’t I? These fellows are very clever. Trained professionals and all that. I let him think we were going back to the house to get my wife, and that I just needed to talk it through with him before we all went to the station. He was very obliging, very calm. We were having a nice conversation when I shot him.”

  “You shot him?”

  “I don’t know if he’s dead, though. He was sort of moving when I heard a voice. I came up here to investigate, and I saw you.”

  I swallowed hard. “Are you going to shoot me too?” He didn’t respond. “Talk to me, Grant…. You know you can talk to me.”

  He hesitated. “Yes, I really should have married you, Reven. Then none of this would ever have happened. We might have been happy. But now I think I have to kill you.”

  “You don’t. Grant, you’re not in a movie. You can’t kill everybody.”

  “I have no intention of doing that. I’m not stupid. You’re the last loose end.” He squinted as if he were in pain. “Frankly, I don’t see another way out.”

  “I know you don’t. Because you’re not thinking clearly right now. You’re not well. But there are other ways, believe me. I’ll help you see them.”

  “I told you…. I fucked up.”

  Grant massaged his temple as if he were disoriented. I could see he was teetering on the edge of sanity. His forehead was wet with perspiration. I felt like every word I uttered from here on in could determine whether he let me live or die.

  “Everyone fucks up, Grant. We’ll get you help. No one will blame you for what you’ve done.”

  He looked at me skeptically. “They won’t?”

  “No! You had to kill Nancy Sawtelle, because she was blackmailing you. People will understand that.”

  “They will?”

  “Killing a blackmailer? Of course they will! Anyone would do that. Especially with the bank at stake. You said so yourself. You had to protect all these people’s money and your family’s reputation. But killing a policeman’s another matter, and right now, we need to find Detective Gunner. What if he’s not dead, Grant? If he’s still alive, we need to find him and help him. And if he lives, you won’t be in nearly as much trouble. It’ll weigh very heavily in your favor.”

  Grant blinked hard a couple of times, like he was trying to sort things out in his mind. All my thoughts were on the gun in my jacket pocket. Even if I was able to draw it, could I shoot him? I wasn’t sure. I took a risk and said to him, “Look, if we find him and he’s dead, you can always…well…take care of me then.”

  He ordered me to turn around. He shoved his gun in my back and said, “Move!”

  I started walking ahead of him. “Put the gun down, Grant. It’s just me.”

  “Walk,” he commanded.

  We headed down the path deeper into the grounds. The gray morning light flattened the landscape ahead.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just walk.”

  His voice was cold and kind of crazy in a dull, determined way. I was terrified.

  “Grant, please listen to me—”

  “Shut up and keep walking,” he said without emotion.

  I kept thinking that every step I took was going to be my last. For the first time in my life, I didn’t dare utter a single word. We were walking in silence when I heard what sounded like low moans nearby. I felt a little jolt of hope, praying it was Gunner and that he was still alive.

  “Hurry up.” He sounded more nervous than numb.

  We walked around a large stone monument. Gunner was propped up against a nearby tombstone. His shirt was soaked in blood. A cell phone lay on the ground beside him. I ran to his side and knelt down. As I took off my jacket to cover him, the gun dropped out of the pocket onto the mossy ground. I looked up at Grant, and we both glanced at the gun that was within my reach. I wanted to grab it, but I hesitated, fearing Grant would shoot me. Just then, a voice cried out of the mist, “Grant!”

  Grant instinctively turned around. I looked past him and saw Violet running toward us down the hill. I screamed at her. Grant turned back to me. I shut my eyes in terror as he aimed the gun at me. A shot rang out. The noise was so loud I covered my ears. Grant dropped his gun, teetered slightly, and fell to the ground. Violet ran to Grant, screaming. I heard sirens in the distance.

  Chapter 48

  It’s been over three months, and Violet and I still haven’t talked about that morning. We talk about other things: gardening, politics, gossip. Violet has had her hands full, coping with the media, Grant’s parents, and with Tee. I sometimes wonder how she manages to keep up her spirits after all that’s happened. Maybe it’s her remarkable talent for self-invention that allows her to go on. The other day, I asked her directly, and she replied, “The trick is never to look back.”

  That’s a good trick—one I haven’t yet mastered. I look back all the time at that ghastly morning in the cemetery. Everything happened so fast that, typical me, I’d managed to miss the critical moment, even though I was right there. I do remember a few things quite clearly, however—like running over to Gunner and the gun falling out of my pocket. I’ll never forget the look on Grant’s face as he pointed his gun at me—that mindless, insane gaze that convinced me he was just about to shoot me. And then the shot—which practically burst my eardrums. Who could forget that?

  At first I thought Violet had shot Grant. I saw her in the distance, and she’d screamed and run to him, cradling him in her arms. But when I turned to Gunner and saw he was holding my gun in both his hands, I knew that he’d shot Grant with the last of his strength before passing out. I learned later that he’d already called for help on his cell phone.

  Grant died on the way to the hospital. Violet was with him in the ambulance. The one thing she did tell me were his last words. He said, “Tell Mother I’m sorry.”

  I went to visit Gunner every day in the hospital. He’s out now, fully recovered. He wasn’t wearing all black the last time I saw him, which made for a nice change. He was in a white shirt and a colorful tie. I think that means he may finally be coming out of mourning for his lost family.

  “You look almost cheerful,” I told him.

  “Don’t go overboard,” he replied with a hint of a smile.

  He’s back on the force and working hard. Maxwell finally confessed to the murder of Liza Cooley, and Gunner told me that some people think he’s responsible for other murders of women in other states, not just Arizona. I believe Gunner is finally satisfied that Bob Poll had nothing to do with the crimes. But he takes pride in the fact that he solved the murder of Miss Montrose all by himself. I don’t see him that much, but he’s promised to drop into the shop whenever he’s in the area. I know we’ll stay friends, not only because of what we went through together, but because I think we really, genuinely like each other and maybe even have changed each other’s lives. I know he saved mine.

  The firestorm of publicity is just now beginning to abate. Let’s face it, it’s not every day the scion of such a great and powerful family turns out to be a stone cold killer. Reporters dredged up some dirt about Cynthia and her involvement with Grant and the bank. There are those who wonder if the venerable old Potomac Bank will last. Mr. Bolton Sr., has had to step in and take over operations again. So it wasn’t only Violet’s reputation Grant wanted to protect. The senior Boltons are blaming Cynthia for their crazy son’s behavior. I can’t say I’m surprised. They have to blame someone. I am surprised that they’ve forgiven Violet. But they have, probably because Rainy is now investing all her energy in Tee, her only grandson.

  I know Violet’s a little nervous about her relationship with her son. But Tee and I had a talk when he was home from school, and he said, “I’m actually looking forward to getting to know my mother at last.” Isn’t that interesting? See, all that time, Violet was playing a part, and Tee sensed it, because children sense everything. Anyway, it’ll all work out. Or it won’t, as Violet says. I’ve given up making predictions. Almost getting murdered by someone I
knew for twenty years has mellowed me quite a bit.

  I haven’t seen Bob Poll around town. Ken Corwin, an editor at Washington Life, informed me he heard that Bob recently gave a birthday party at his house for one of the girls from King Arthur’s, and that a couple of married members of Congress were there—without their wives. Maybe Bob is finally following his real heart at last. I wish him well. I did read that he went to that event at the White House with Cynthia and that the evening was a success. The woman is nothing if not tenacious, I’ll say that for her—although there are rumors she may not be honoring her pledge to the Dance Troupe of Morocco and they might go out of business as a result.

  A lot of people think Cynthia should move away from Washington. Violet keeps asking when she will get indicted. Senator Grider told me to tell her to hold her horses. “The law takes time,” he said.

  And yes, Zack and I are having another look-see at each other. I’m learning to appreciate him more. He’s definitely growing on me. One night we were going to a party and I asked him if Violet could come with us. He didn’t hesitate to say yes. It was the first time she’d been out in public since the whole scandal broke. At first, she didn’t want to go because she was afraid of what people were saying about her. She didn’t want to be snubbed. But I convinced her she had to come with us and face the gossip squad.

  “You can’t just crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of your life,” I told her. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”

  And I certainly will. I mean, this is Washington. People survive scandals here all the time.

  Things are kind of back to the way they were in school—with me protecting Violet. Only a lot has come in between. So even though it’s the same, it’s different. But the main thing is, we’re still best friends.

  “Throw me that roll of duct tape,” Violet says.

  I pitch her the dull silver ring.

  As she tears off a long strip, she says, “Remember that anthrax scare years ago? The government warned us about chemical attacks, and there was a run on duct tape to seal up windows. All the stores ran out. Remember that?”