Baxter’s vulnerability would give Rena time to plan. Something subtle would be ideal; something that could not be connected to her would be essential. The most promising scenario would be death by a means naturally associated with prolonged inactivity. How to promote deterioration via infection or systemic failure presented a challenge. She typed in another key word and clicked the search button.
An hour later she turned off the computer and left the house to buy a cup of coffee and a pastry. Walking past the garage, she decided to detour toward the cottage. The young nurse’s aide on duty was giving Baxter a sponge bath. Her husband’s chest and arms had atrophied significantly during the weeks he’d been immobile. He was lying with his eyes closed as the older nurse gently rubbed his arm with a damp cloth. Rena stared at him for a moment.
“Has he shown any other signs of waking up?” she asked.
“His eyes have opened a few times but didn’t focus on anything. I asked him a few questions but didn’t get a response. He wouldn’t blink.”
Rena continued to stare down at him. She lightly touched Baxter’s hair. It was soft and slightly damp.
“The nurse is making you look nice,” she said. “Your father is coming back into town this afternoon and will come by to see you.”
Baxter remained motionless. Rena was satisfied. Though he stubbornly clung to life, he couldn’t be far from the limit to what he could endure. She turned and left.
“You have a pretty wife,” the aide said as she patted Baxter’s arm dry with a soft towel. “After I’m finished, I’ll turn you onto your side, so you won’t get any nasty bed sores. One of the nurses brought some pretty plants that you can enjoy. They are red, green, orange—”
As the aide rattled on, Baxter opened his eyes. His mouth was dry. He licked his lips.
“Father,” he croaked. “Talk.”
The aide jumped and let out a shriek. She dropped the towel. The nurse in the kitchen came rushing into the room.
“What happened?” she asked.
The aide pointed toward Baxter whose eyes were now closed.
“He spoke.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked for his father and wants to talk to him.”
The nurse leaned over closer to Baxter’s head. “Mr. Richardson, if you want to see your father, open your eyes.”
Nothing happened.
The aide stood on the other side of the bed. “Ask him again.”
The nurse touched Baxter’s cheek. “Mr. Richardson, if you want to talk to your father, open your eyes.”
Baxter slowly raised his eyelids.
“Do you want to talk to your father?” the nurse asked again.
“Huh,” he managed before his pupils rolled back in his head.
The aide looked at the nurse. “What do you think?” she asked.
The nurse picked up Baxter’s arm and slipped on the hospital gown. “I think he’s coming back. I hope his father gets here before our shift is over. I want to see what happens.”
A few hours later, Rena called Jeffrey again. This time he answered.
“Is anyone listening?” Rena asked.
“I assume you mean other than me. No, we’re the only ones on the line.”
“Did you see the news on TV?”
“Yes.”
Rena waited for Jeffrey to continue, but he didn’t say anything.
“Do you know anything about the man they arrested for stealing my car?” she asked.
“Only what you know. That’s he’s not guilty. He didn’t steal your car, and he didn’t kill the policeman.”
Rena bit her lip. When she spoke, she couldn’t suppress a slight tremor in her voice.
“I didn’t do anything to the policeman. That video you sent to blackmail me doesn’t prove anything. I was driving the convertible earlier in the day and then parked it in front of the house with the keys in it. Quinton must have stolen it while I was in the house.”
Jeffrey spoke slowly. “The clock running at the bottom of the screen doesn’t lie, Rena, but who said anything about blackmail? Nobody has a copy of the tape but you and me.”
“Quinton doesn’t have a copy?”
“Forget about him. He’ll be convicted and that will be the end of it. You need to focus on the important things.”
“Uh, I’m cooperating. I know Alexia is doing research on the companies you gave me, but I don’t know when she’s going to file suit. Did you talk to her last night?”
“No, there wasn’t an opportunity, but I’ll contact her if I need to.”
“So, there’s nothing I have to worry about?”
“Not from me.”
“What about Quinton’s lawyer? What if he tells his lawyer about the tape?”
“Quinton wasn’t working the day you took your ride to Charleston, and I doubt he knows a tape exists. The man who shot the film was checking out some new equipment. It was totally random. Pretty, lucky, eh?”
Rena didn’t appreciate the barb. It was infuriating to think that chance had placed her in such a dangerous situation.
“Then why were his fingerprints on my car? Did Baxter know him?”
“No. Quinton dropped off the money I gave you when my father gutted your bank account.”
Rena paused. “Oh, when he opened the car door he left fingerprints.”
Jeffrey gave a short laugh. “Yeah, which was stupid on his part.”
“Won’t he try to drag others down with him? Maybe even you?”
“No, I’ve never met him. I talk to the people who give him orders.”
“What if he mentions my name and talks about the money? What should I do?”
Jeffrey hesitated, and Rena realized she’d mentioned something her brother-in-law hadn’t thought about.
“Look, Rena, people like him know not to talk to the police, but if he mentions you, he makes himself look guilty. The last thing he wants is a connection with you because your car is directly linked to the deputy who was killed.”
“He wasn’t killed; he slipped and fell!”
There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line. When he spoke, Jeffrey said,
“Will you repeat that for the tape?”
“What!” Rena exploded. “You said—”
Jeffrey laughed.
“I’m kidding,” he said. “Don’t be so edgy. I’m sure you haven’t done anything wrong in years. Keep your cool, and everything will work out. If the police contact you, make sure your lawyer is there when they interview you. She’s sharp, and I’m sure knows how to take care of nosy detectives. She’s good-looking, too, but you’re right, she’s not my type—a bit too uptight.”
“So you’re not worried?”
“I’ve not done anything wrong, and you should be okay too if you keep your mouth shut and do what your lawyer and I tell you to do. We’ve talked enough about this. How’s Baxter?”
Rena was unconvinced but didn’t know what else to ask him.
“No different. Everyone got excited when he opened his eyes the other day, but I don’t think he recognizes me. It’s depressing.”
“My father left the office a few minutes ago on his way to see Baxter. If you run into him, don’t talk to him about the car, Quinton, or anything else. In fact, avoid him. There’s nothing you can say to him that will help us.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Rena hung up the phone. While drinking a glass of water, she looked out the kitchen window toward the cottage and saw Ezra Richardson’s black Mercedes come up the driveway. She stepped away from the window but stayed close enough to watch. Ezra parked in front of the cottage and got out. Dressed in a dark suit, he looked like an older, slightly overweight version of Jeffrey. They shared dark, penetrating eyes, as well as a well-shaped nose and strong jaw. Both faces were compatible with an unyielding personality.
While in the Caribbean, Ezra received word that his younger son was beginning to emerge from the coma. He’d considered flying hom
e immediately, but a brief conversation with Dr. Leoni convinced him to complete his business. The extra time proved troubling yet valuable. All was not as it should be in the Richardson empire.
At the cottage, he pushed open the door and found Baxter, his eyes closed, lying in the same position Ezra had last seen him. The nurse on duty stuck her head around the corner from the kitchen.
“Mr. Richardson,” she said excitedly. “We were hoping you’d come. Your son spoke for the first time a few hours ago. He said ‘father’ and ‘talk.’”
Ezra stepped quickly to the side of the bed.
“Baxter!” he said in a loud voice. “I’m here!”
“There’s no need to yell,” the nurse said. “If he wants to respond, he will—”
Baxter opened his eyes and looked up at his father. Ezra could see the light of recognition come on in his eyes.
“He knows you,” the nurse whispered.
Baxter shifted his gaze to the nurse.
“Go,” he said in a voice that slightly cracked.
Ezra shooed her away with his hand. “You heard him. He wants to talk privately.”
The nurse started to protest, but the look on Ezra’s face didn’t invite debate.
“Yes sir,” she said meekly. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Thirty minutes later, Rena heard the doorbell chime. When she came down the stairs and leaned over the banister to look out the sidelight, she saw Ezra and froze. She wanted to flee, but the older man saw her and beckoned urgently. Trapped, Rena descended slowly and opened the large door. Ezra stepped inside without being invited.
“I just finished talking to Baxter,” he began abruptly. “As soon as I spoke his name, he opened his eyes. We were able to talk for several minutes.”
Rena put her hand out to steady herself against the wall. “Uh, I didn’t know he was talking,” she managed. “What did he say?”
“He knows his name and who I am. He recognized the cottage but still thought his mother was alive and that Jeffrey was away at college.” Ezra paused. “When I mentioned your name he shook his head.”
“You mean he doesn’t know who I am?”
“I don’t know. Maybe when he sees you and hears your voice, he’ll remember you.”
Rena’s heart was pounding in her ears. “Uh, did he remember the accident?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t say anything about it except to tell him that he’d been hurt. I told him about the coma but not the paralysis. I’m not sure he understood any of it. He tired quickly and fell asleep. I waited to see if he woke up, but he didn’t.”
Rena took a deep breath. “That’s good. I’ll give him plenty of time to rest before I go over. Is the nurse going to contact Dr. Leoni?”
“Yes, he’s scheduled to come by tomorrow afternoon. I left instructions for the morning shift to let me know the specific time so I can be there.”
Rena stepped away from the wall. Her heart had calmed down. Ezra rubbed his chin.
“Rena,” her father-in-law said slowly, “Now that Baxter is beginning to recover, I hope we can put aside our differences. I disagreed with you about terminating Baxter’s life support, and my opinion has proven right. But I think we should open the lines of communication between us. I’ve been taking care of Baxter’s business interests and realize that I need to let you know what’s going on and get your input as his wife.”
Ezra’s overture baffled Rena. It was so contrary to their previous relationship and completely at odds with Jeffrey’s portrayal of his father selfishly manipulating Baxter’s business affairs. She stared at him for several seconds.
“What have you been doing for Baxter?” she managed.
“Maintaining the status quo, except when a sale or transfer was the best thing to do for his long-term needs. And yours.”
Rena wasn’t ready to instantly forgive and forget. “Why did you take the money out of my checking account after Baxter was hurt?”
“It was an unnecessary measure, and I’m sorry.”
“And everything else Baxter owned at the time of the accident is still in his name?”
“Yes, though I’ve transferred some investments. We’re always looking at new ventures, acquisitions, and developments. Baxter’s net worth has actually increased a little in the past few months. I know you don’t have a lot of experience in business, so if you like I can pass along information directly to your lawyer. Ralph Leggitt tells me she has a good grasp of business and can advise you.”
“That might be a good idea. Do you and Jeffrey make the decisions?”
“Jeffrey isn’t involved in everything, but much of what we do is linked. Baxter wasn’t as interested in the business as Jeffrey.”
Rena knew Ezra’s statement about Baxter was true. Her husband always preferred a wine magazine to a corporate balance sheet.
“But does Jeffrey know what you’ve done with Baxter’s stuff?”
As soon as she asked the question, Rena regretted it. Ezra raised his eyebrows.
“Have you been talking to Jeffrey about it?”
“A little bit,” she admitted, her face turning red, “but I don’t know very much. Please don’t mention it to him. I don’t want either one of you mad at me.”
Rena squeezed her eyes shut and summoned a weak tear. She opened them slowly, uncertain whether she could face Ezra’s wrath. He greeted her with compassion.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep this conversation to myself, and I suggest you do the same. In fact, keep the lines of communication open with Jeffrey and let me know what he thinks.”
Rena nodded. Ezra took out a business card and wrote a phone number on the back.
“This is one of my private lines. Call me anytime.”
Her mind reeling, Rena slowly closed the door behind her father-in-law. When she turned around, she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
It was Baxter.
He was wearing one of his favorite golf shirts and khaki pants. He looked at her, shrugged with a slight smile, and disappeared.
16
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear the very stones prate of my whereabout.
MACBETH, ACT 2, SCENE 1
When Alexia arrived at the office Monday morning, Gwen’s vehicle was already in the parking lot. Alexia parked beside her with a sense of relief. Since leaving Leggitt & Freeman, Alexia had been like a car that wasn’t firing on all cylinders, and the secretary’s support would make everything run more smoothly. She went inside, deposited a large bouquet of fresh-cut flowers in a stylish vase on Gwen’s desk, and walked up front, where she found Gwen introducing herself to other members of Rachel’s staff. Alexia laughed.
“I didn’t realize I was getting a different Gwen Jones from the one who ate lunch with me at Cousin Bert’s,” she said. “You’re changing hair color faster than most women do shoes.”
Gwen turned and smoothed her hair, now short and deep brunette.
“This really is my natural color, and I’m going to stick with it. I took my beautician a picture of myself as a little girl and told her to match it. This is also what I looked like when I married my second husband. He was the best of the lot. What do you think?”
Alexia nodded. “It looks good. Mature and intelligent.”
Gwen frowned, “I was hoping for sexy.”
“Someone else will have to be the judge of that.”
“I think you look great,” said a cute young receptionist. “I bet you’re older than my mom, but you look a lot younger.”
“Don’t tell me your mother’s age,” Gwen responded quickly. “I’d rather savor the compliment as it stands.”
Alexia turned toward her office.
Gwen followed her after giving a parting wave to the other women. “I’ve got to go to work,” she said over her shoulder. “Alexia is a real slave-driver, but I’ll be back later when she goes to court and tell you the first chapter of my life story.”
Rachel Downey had hire
d two men to clean out the storage room across from Alexia’s office and turn it into a cozy secretarial space. Gwen walked in and saw the bouquet on the desk beside the computer screen. She touched the soft petals.
“Thanks, Alexia, they’re beautiful.”
“I’ll try to keep the place bright until we move to our new office with multiple windows. Will you get claustrophobic in here?”
“How many windows did I have at Leggitt & Freeman?”
“None.”
“I only felt claustrophobic when Leonard surrounded my desk with files.”
“I haven’t even dictated anything yet, but I’m closing on the King Street house this afternoon, so there may be some last-minute stuff to do.”
“I’m here if you need me. Don’t be in a rush. I’ll be happy setting up.” Gwen pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk. It was empty. “Plenty of room in the candy pantry. I’ll make a run during lunch.”
“When Rachel arrives, find out if there is anything she needs you to do.”
“Sure, or I’ll see if I can help any of the girls up front.”
Seeing Gwen at her desk, Alexia felt a sudden surge of emotion. She’d not allowed herself to think about the day her friend would join her, and now that it was a reality, the threat of tears caught her off guard. Alexia cleared her throat and turned away.
“I have some calls to make,” she said.
Still looking down, Gwen didn’t notice.
Alexia went into her office and closed the door. After clearing her head, she located Byron Devereaux’s phone number in Rena’s file and called the detective. She reached his voice mail and left a message requesting a call back without furnishing any details. She dictated letters in several files and interrogatories in a divorce case involving a chef at a local restaurant. Her intercom buzzed.
“Who is it?” she asked the young receptionist.
“Sean Pruitt, a lawyer in Charleston.”
The name didn’t sound familiar to Alexia. It wasn’t unusual for her to litigate with Charleston attorneys, and she knew most of the ones who specialized in divorce cases. She left the phone on speaker and pushed the talk button.
Life Everlasting Page 13
