Cheat the Hangman

by Gloria Ferris

  Bull crap. Caroline needed to talk to an expert and I had to get her to one. Fast.

  “Have you explained to him that you don’t love him anymore, that you deserve better, and that you won’t tolerate physical abuse anymore?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  “Why not? Maybe he needs to hear the truth.”

  “He needs to get used to the idea first. I explained that we needed a trial separation, then when he gets used to me not being around, I’ll tell him it’s permanent.”

  “Caroline, I am going to get you some help. You must know that your behaviour is enabling Scott to continue with his abuse. He isn’t going to change so you must break free from him emotionally. That is, if you are serious about ending your relationship. This isn’t just a plan to try and get him to change, is it, because you must know…”

  “I do know, Lyris. I’ve read a lot about abusive marriages and I realize I will need some help to distance myself from Scott. I know it isn’t…wasn’t my fault he hits me, but I still have all these feelings of guilt.”

  “Which is why you continue to let him in at night and let him continue to hit you. Well, it isn’t going to happen anymore. No one is going to get hit in this house if I can help it. And I can.”

  I patted her shoulder as I got up. “Leave it with me for now. I’ll find you some help. In the meantime, don’t let Scott in. If he causes a fuss, come and get me.”

  I didn’t tell her to call the police because she wasn’t ready for that step yet. Better to get her to a counsellor first. Patsy would know someone, I was sure. And then we would deal with any charges. If he was the one taking things from the house, he would pay.

  Since I couldn’t remember when I last saw Amelia, it was just possible Scott had come into my room while I was sleeping Saturday night and taken her. The thought made my skin crawl. He was going to pay for that too.

  I couldn’t think of a motive for his taking things and I didn’t want to upset Caroline by asking her. She had to know about his thieving, but maybe he was a kleptomaniac, who had to take a souvenir during each visit…

  “Lyris.”

  “Oh, sorry, did you say something?”

  “Yes. I’m making some eggs for Conklin and myself. Can I do some extra for you as well?”

  “Thank you, no, I’m not hungry just yet. I’d better get back to my reunion work. They’ll be rolling in tomorrow around noon.”

  I paused at the door. “You will remember what I said about Scott, won’t you?”

  “I’ll remember. I won’t let him in again.”

  For the first time that morning she looked directly at me. “Thanks for offering to help me, Lyris. I feel lots better now that you know what’s been happening.”

  I waved away her gratitude, not a bit convinced that Scott wouldn’t still be prowling through Hammersleigh come midnight. But it was a start, and the sooner I got her to abuse therapy, the better for all of us.

  In the drawing room, I woke Jacqueline and Rasputin and kicked them off the furniture. Not literally, though I was tempted.

  One item remained on my reunion list and it could be ticked off with a visit to town. I took a few minutes to write up another list for Marc of the people who had been in and out of the house on Saturday. Then I wandered back into the kitchen for a bite before heading for Blackshore.

  Conklin and Caroline were companionably sopping up gooey egg yolk with whole-wheat toast. When I headed for my tea cupboard, they both pretended great interest in the contents of their cups.

  “I think perhaps a little balm tea this morning. It will help with the slight indigestion and nervousness I’m suffering from, no doubt due to the reunion kick-off tomorrow. Join me?” I waved the tin at them.

  Both heads swivelled from side to side. For some reason, most people were scared of herbs other than for flavouring foods. I found that very odd. Less Drugs, More Herbs was another of my mottos.

  As well as teas, my cupboard held various tinctures, also prepared by my Chinese doctor. I added a few drops of gingko biloba to my cup to improve the circulation to my brain. I would need any mental boost I could get for the next few days. A banana completed my breakfast.

  As I parked my car across from the police station, I saw Jody standing on the curb. This was noteworthy because Jody was known for her idle lifestyle, and any sighting of this wannabe socialite before noon was indeed rare.

  By the time I put my quarter in the meter and crossed the road, the Family Trollop was hightailing it down the street in the direction of the Donut Delite coffee shop. She had been standing on the sidewalk between the police station and Dennis’s realty office and no telling which she had visited. That a man was the reason for her morning appearance on the main street of Blackshore was a given. But which man? Well, I intended to know the answer to that before the sidearm was over the lamppost, or however the saying went.

  Inside the police station I had to ask Ms. Constable Wilberts if I could see Marc, then convince her it was business, whereupon she wanted the list and was not happy when I insisted I would release it into Marc’s hands alone.

  Just before we came to blows, Marc came out and ushered me into his office. He shook his head at me like I had caused all the rumpus. That woman was just a born troublemaker and should never have been placed in a position of authority.

  “Was Jody in here just now?” I winced. Some days I just did not know what would come out of my mouth. Certain topics needed to be led into, slowly.

  “Jody?” He looked surprised.

  I was relieved. So the little tramp hadn’t been hitting on Marc that morning.

  He was waiting for more.

  “I saw her out on the street in front of the building and thought she might be paying a fine or something.”

  “She might have been. I didn’t see her.”

  The hell with subtlety. I wasn’t good at it. “Marc, you went out with Jody last year, didn’t you?”

  “Twice.”

  “Twice? Twice?” The slut acted like it was the grand passion of the decade. “Why did you stop seeing her?”

  “She wasn’t my type. Anyway, maybe she stopped seeing me, did you ever think of that?”

  “So are you over her yet?”

  “I think so. Lock that door and come over here. We’ll find out.”

  “Very funny. You’d just unlock it again.”

  He smiled. “Maybe so. But why all the questions about Jody? It took two dates to find out we had nothing in common, and I didn’t sleep with her in case you want to know that.”

  Well. I was shocked he hadn’t slept with Jody—everybody else had—and relieved he was more discriminating.

  He sent me another sexy smile. “Besides, once I saw you, every other woman just disappeared.”

  “There were other women? What other women?”

  When he opened his mouth, I said, “Just kidding. I don’t want to know about them. Now, I’m here on business. Here’s your list of visitors to the house on Saturday.”

  He took the list from my hand. “I see our friend Angelo Bertollini is here. He might be worth a look.”

  “No. I told you before he isn’t a thief. Growing pot on his kitchen window sill is different.”

  “Barely. Did you see him leave on Saturday?”

  “No, but I know it isn’t Angelo.”

  “We’ll leave him for now. I know Peter Tackaberry, but who are Gordon and Roddie?”

  “Two near-naked men who came to move furniture. Just trust me on this—they didn’t carry anything out in their shorts they didn’t come in with.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. Now who’s this?”

  I knew he was looking at the final name on the list that I had printed in caps and underlined. “Scott Fournier. Who is Scott Fournier?”

  “Caroline’s husband. It’s an abusive relationship. Caroline has been letting him in at night.”

  “Why? I thought they were separated. Did you know this was going on?”

 
; “She’s only been with me for a few days, remember. Caroline feels guilty for leaving Scott so she’s trying to let him down gradually. The thing is, when she lets him in, he hits her. Then I think he steals something.”

  Marc regarded me. “This is a dangerous situation. Anyone who gets in the way of an abusive husband and the object of his so-called affection can be hurt as well. I want you to stay out of it.”

  “Sorry, it’s too late. And I wouldn’t anyhow. I promised Caroline I would get her some help, which to my mind means counselling and police protection. In the meantime, I made her agree not to let Scott in anymore.”

  He came around his desk and put his hands on my shoulders. “You should have let me know as soon as you suspected. These men can and do kill.” He gave a slight squeeze and released me.

  “This is dangerous for you and Caroline. Fournier lives in Northton, doesn’t he?”

  When I nodded, he added, “I’ll find out if they have any record on him. In any case they can have a talk with the gentleman and warn him off. If I see him in Blackshore, I’ll do the same.”

  He punched at the keys of his computer. “I don’t like this. Caroline needs a lawyer right away, and if she comes in and signs a complaint, we can take steps to protect her.”

  “No, Marc. Not yet. Caroline has only just admitted there’s a problem. If we move too fast, she may go back to Scott.”

  “Don’t you understand, Lyris, an abusive spouse will not let anything stand in the way of his goal. Usually he won’t harm anyone other than his spouse, but if you are seen to interfere, he might go after you. I’ve seen it before. Sometimes these men even assault counsellors or lawyers.”

  It seemed the air conditioner in the police station had broken down. A solitary fan swished lazily back and forth across Marc’s office. In spite of the closeness of the room, I felt a chilly hand on my neck.

  “I want to get on this right now, Lyris. Don’t forget. Call me if you even catch sight of Fournier around Hammersleigh.”

  I didn’t like being scared, so I put Scott Fournier out of my mind for the moment and bought a heavenly hash ice cream cone from the little variety store beside Dennis’s office.

  I was licking and dripping on the sidewalk when I heard a thumping sound behind me. I turned around to see Dennis through his office window, all smiles. He motioned me to come in.

  What the heck, I figured I might as well drip on his office as the street.

  Inside the door, several clerks were busy filling out computer forms, and a youngish couple was seated around a desk in one corner, where one of Dennis’ agents was showing them a book of listings.

  “Looks like things are going pretty well in the real estate business.”

  He handed me a roll of paper towel from his bottom drawer. “The market is picking up some.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I wiped brown ice cream from his desktop and dabbed a few drops from a file folder. He looked pained, but didn’t say anything. That made me suspicious.

  He was wearing navy twill pants and a pale blue sports shirt. Blue tones went well with his eyes and tanned skin. There was no denying he was an attractive man, and if Jody hadn’t been in the police station, I was betting her cute little derriere had been parked in this very chair a few minutes ago.

  “Can we have a serious conversation about something, Lyris?” He laced his fingers together and leaned forward over the desk. I recognized this as his sincere posture, useful for convincing prospective buyers that the house they were thinking of buying didn’t have termites or toxic mould.

  “Sure.” I went down the front of my tank top with the paper towel after some ice cream. I’d have to remember next time not to get the double scoop.

  “To be honest, I’m having some financial trouble right now. Temporary, but if I don’t raise some capital soon, I’ll lose the house.”

  “That’s too bad. Maybe you could take out a second mortgage.”

  “I already did that. The bank won’t loan me anymore.”

  “Then maybe you should consider moving to a smaller house. In your business you should be able to find a good deal on a more modest place.”

  A vein in his left temple was pulsing to beat the band, I noticed with some interest.

  “In a few short months I will have three children to support. Do you expect me to move my family to a tiny hovel somewhere?”

  “There is a world of difference between the house you live in now, with its five bedrooms, four full baths, a swimming pool, sauna, and guest cottage, and a tar paper shack. But I don’t think that’s what we’re discussing, is it?”

  “I just need you to return a portion of what you took when we divorced. You took unfair advantage. I didn’t mind so much at the time, but now I could use the money.”

  I threw the remains of my cone in his wastepaper basket where it landed with a wet thud. “I got half, you got half. How you manage to convince yourself you deserve more is beyond me.”

  “I have a family to support. I’m forty years old, and as you pointed out the other night, I am soon to have three children under two.”

  “And you think that, out of the goodness of my heart, I’m going to give you some of my hard-earned investments? Because you have a family to support?”

  “You could show some consideration. We were married for almost twenty years.”

  For a minute I felt Dennis and I existed in parallel universes. We were talking to each other, but we were out of synch by a heartbeat.

  “Tell me Dennis, when did you start being unfaithful to me? Was it five years after we were married? Ten? Whenever it was, any consideration I owed you stopped right there.”

  We were by this time hissing at each other, but I was aware that all was silent from the outer office. I kicked the door closed and waited for his answer.

  His voice was hard with anger. “I don’t deny we had problems in our marriage and I didn’t always treat you as well as I should have, but it wasn’t all me. If you had been different, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere.”

  As soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake. His eyes shifted to my face, hoping I had missed the statement. Not likely.

  He reached across for my hand. I jerked away, hearing my mother’s words clearly in my mind.

  “One thing I will not do, Dennis, and that is take the blame for your philandering. You made me feel inadequate for as long as I can remember. I may not have been blameless, but my main flaw was putting up with you. I should have kicked your ass out years earlier.”

  “You didn’t kick me out. I left you.”

  “Because you got a young girl pregnant, you moron. You’re just lucky you didn’t find yourself in court on a statutory rape charge.”

  “Tracey wasn’t that young, bitch. And keep your voice down.”

  I got up and prepared to leave. “Here’s a piece of free advice for you, Dennis. If you are at all tempted to start up with Jody again, don’t. You can ill afford another divorce and subsequent split of your remaining assets. Not to mention child support for the next eighteen years. And you’ll be lucky if Tracey lets you off with half. She’s not as easygoing as I am.”

  “Will you at least think about what I asked you?”

  I slammed the door on my way out.

  That evening, after a delicious dinner of stuffed turkey breast and oven-roasted vegetables, I picked up the Blackshore Oracle and scanned the obituary page. I was hoping to find a name there that I called kin.

  As it turned out, none of the deceased was a close family member, but one obituary listed several Pembrookes among those left behind to mourn. It would have to do.

  I called Patsy. “Put on your pantyhose and a black dress. We’re going to a wake.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “How was I to know you’d put pantyhose on? Seriously, come on, it’s still thirty degrees Celsius at eight o’clock in the evening. You must know I was kidding.”

  Patsy had almost gone ballistic when I picked her up in my car and s
he saw I was wearing a sundress.

  By the time we pushed our way through the crowd in the foyer of the Lavette Funeral Home, I was sweating like a stevedore, and I shuddered to think how Patsy felt in her black shift with matching jacket. And tasteful taupe pantyhose.

  She kept throwing accusing glances at my navy and white striped sundress and muttered about going home. But I wasn’t worried. Between the heat and the pantyhose, she knew she’d never survive the eight-block trek. There was also her questionable choice of shoes to consider—an inebriated thirteen-year old in her first pair of stilettos would be steadier on her feet than Patsy with her three-inch sandals.

  “Just who is this Clive Ainsdale anyway?” she asked, her voice ringing through the foyer.

  About a dozen people were milling inside the front door, and I scanned the foyer trying to locate the queue to sign the visitors’ book.

  “There.” I grabbed Patsy by the wrist and dragged her behind me. As we took our place in line, I whispered, “I can’t remember ever meeting him, but he’s related somehow to the Pembrookes. I recognize a pack of distantly related family in there. So we have a legitimate reason for coming here.”

  “You mean you do. And why are we here? You didn’t tell me. I thought you wanted some company to pay your respects to an uncle or something.”

  I signed the book with a flourish and handed the gold pen to Patsy. “I need some burial information, and I think it might be in the records. Remember, I worked here one summer, Grade 10 if I’m not mistaken.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, she whispered in agitation as we waited our turn. I ignored her. Sometimes I wished I had a friend who wasn’t such a scaredy cat. But my other friends weren’t as loyal as Patsy. I knew she wouldn’t leave me, no matter how nervous she was.

  When we reached the elderly widow and middle-aged children at the foot of the coffin, I merely introduced myself. The fact that I was a Pembrooke seemed to be sufficient reason for being there. They thanked me for coming, and I moved past them to stand at the open coffin, leaving Patsy to sink or swim on her own. She was more socially adroit than I, so I figured she would say the right things.