“All right.” Beatrice descended the stairs. “I’ll bring her back tomorrow.”
Melanie nodded, got back in the car, and pulled forward to the garage.
“Beatrice, wake up. Wake up, honey. Bea, wake up!”
The words were part of her dream at first, but suddenly Beatrice sat up fully awake, her heart pounding. “What is it?”
“Listen,” Leigh said.
After a moment of silence she heard a voice calling from outside. “Nellie! Nellie, where are you?”
Beatrice leaped out of bed and stuck her feet in her slippers. “Nellie’s Kenny’s old dog.” She threw on her robe and darted for the door. Doro tried to follow. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Be careful,” Leigh said.
There were no overhead streetlights in the housing development, but in front of each house was an LED light on a five-foot pole. The light was not bright, but it was clear, and Beatrice had no difficulty seeing Kenny standing in the center of the cul-de-sac calling for his dead dog. He wore a t-shirt and the same stained trousers he’d worn to the doctor that day. He was barefoot.
“Nellie, come home,” he called.
Beatrice approached. “Kenny, are you looking for your dog?”
He turned to her. Tears leaked from his eyes, but he was wide awake. “I can’t find Nellie.”
“Your dog’s at my house. You loaned her to me today, remember?”
“You found my dog?”
“Yes. Come with me. I’ll show you.” She held out a hand. Kenny let her lead him to her house. Doro met them at the door.
“You found her! It’s Doro,” he said, instantly reverting to the correct name. The dog scrambled frantically at his legs. Kenny tried to touch her, but when he bent down he lost his balance and would have fallen if Beatrice hadn’t grabbed and steadied him.
“Sit down, Kenny. Sit here.” She ushered him into the kitchen and pulled out a chair. He sat, and Doro jumped onto his lap. They both smiled.
“Are you all right?” Beatrice asked. “Are you hungry? Can I get you a cup of tea?”
He didn’t answer, so she popped an herbal tea K-cup into the Keurig and turned it on. From the remains of a peach pie in the fridge, she cut a slice for each of them and brought the pie and tea to the table.
“I love peach pie,” Kenny said, sounding normal.
“I know,” Beatrice said. “Kenny, what’s going on over at your place? Who’s Melanie?”
“She lives with me. She takes care of me.”
“When did that start?”
Kenny fed Doro a crumb of crust and didn’t answer.
“Did you get sick? Or have an accident?”
He looked down at his lap as if embarrassed. “I have accidents sometimes. I’m sorry.”
“No, I don’t mean that kind of accident. Don’t be sorry.” Beatrice took a bite of pie. She would have to be careful with her questioning. He was like a child, suddenly, and not in a skateboarding way. She knew dementia could have that effect on people, but she’d never heard of someone deteriorating so quickly. “How are you related to Melanie?”
His brow creased. “Related?”
“She’s related to you, isn’t she? Is she a niece or something? Or is it by marriage?”
“Yes,” he said. “By marriage.” He put his fork down, having eaten only two bites, and yawned heavily. “Let’s go to bed, Doro.”
Beatrice didn’t want to let him go home. “Do you want to sleep on my couch?”
“Yes. Let’s sleep on the couch, Doro.”
Kenny lay down as soon as the sheets were spread, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.
Beatrice returned to the bedroom.
“You think she’ll come looking for him?” Leigh asked.
“She can’t have him. I’m keeping him.”
“Are we talking about the dog? Or Kenny?”
“Both.”
But in the morning, the front door was unlocked and both were gone. Beatrice assumed they’d returned home, but the uncertainty of it niggled at her. He could be roaming the city, barefoot and lost.
“I’m going over there,” she said.
“Eat something first,” Leigh advised. “And get dressed. You can’t wander the neighborhood like that.”
Beatrice looked at herself. She wore nothing but panties and a t-shirt, an old one of Leigh’s, now worn threadbare. Leigh was right. So it was eight-thirty before she knocked at Kenny’s. Melanie, wearing a long sleep shirt, opened the door.
“Is Kenny here?” Beatrice asked.
“Of course. He’s sleeping.”
“Are you sure? Because he was out walking last night, looking for his dog. I didn’t know if he’d made it home.”
“I’m sure.” Melanie’s eyes blinked behind her owl glasses. The lenses were thick, but there was no distortion of her eyes. “Give me a little credit.”
Beatrice wasn’t about to give her any credit, and she nearly asked to peek in Kenny’s bedroom to make certain when she heard barking coming from inside. Kenny’s voice followed, faint and muffled by distance, but it sounded like he was calling Doro ‘Nellie’ again.
“That’s just great,” Melanie snapped and moved onto the porch, forcing Beatrice to step back. She closed the door behind her. “Now the damned dog woke him up, just when I got him settled in to sleep, too. Please go now.”
“But he’s awake. Let me talk to him.”
“No. I’ve been taking care of that old man for months now. I know what’s best for him, you don’t. If you’ll just go, maybe the dog will shut up and Kenny can go back to sleep.”
Beatrice slunk back home.
“Maybe I’ve got it all wrong,” she told Leigh. “Maybe she’s exactly what she seems.”
“A rude sloppy meat-eater who doesn’t like dogs?”
“A rude sloppy meat-eater who’s volunteered to care for an old, sick relative.”
Just then the mail arrived, nice and early. Their usual carrier was back from vacation. Beatrice met her at the door.
“Do you happen to know when that woman moved into Kenny Wingate’s house?”
“Melanie?” the carrier asked. “She’s not just a woman, she’s his wife.”
“His wife? No! Are you kidding me?”
“I wish I was. She moved in last winter some time. They got married in April, I think.”
“But he’s…” gay, Beatrice almost said, but she didn’t know how out Kenny really was. He was a generation ahead of her, and that generation had a harder time stepping out of the closet than Beatrice’s. “He’s old enough to be her grandfather. And in April he wasn’t even well enough to walk his dog. How could he get married?”
The carrier shrugged. “It happens. Old guys fall in love with their nurses all the time. There’s no law against it, thank God. We’re trying to get rid of laws that say who people can marry, remember?”
“That’s true. Thanks.” She took her mail and closed the door. “Leigh, did you hear that?”
“I heard.”
“Kenny did not fall in love with Melanie.”
“No, he’s as queer as a three-dollar bill.”
A thought occurred to Beatrice. “You know what? I don’t think he did say ‘Nellie.’”
“What do you mean?”
“When I stood at the door this morning, Doro barked, and I thought I heard Kenny say ‘Nellie.’ But now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure he was saying, ‘help me.’”
“Help me? Why? You think she locked him in?”
“Why wouldn’t she let me see him? He was awake. There was no reason for her to—he was calling for help. I’m sure of it now. I’m going to talk to him. I’m going to sneak in the back way.”
“You mean right now?”
“He needs help, Leigh.”
“Maybe, but not from you. Call Adult Protective Services, like you said before. Call the police, if you’re that sure he’s in trouble.”
Beatrice sighed. “That’s the pr
oblem. I’m not sure. I’d hate to be one of those paranoid people who call in suspicious behavior when there isn’t any. I’d look like a nutcase.”
“Do you think it’s suspicious?”
“Yes, but what if I’m wrong? What do you think?”
“You know better than that.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m going. If I’m not back in an hour…no, that won’t work.”
“No.”
“I’ll leave a note on the table saying where I went and when and why. Not that anything’s going to happen. Besides, I’ll have my phone with me.”
“I wish you wouldn’t go,” Leigh said, but Beatrice went.
Sneaking in was easy. The gate to the back yard was unlocked, just like before, and the key to the back door was where Kenny had always left it. Beatrice retrieved it from the fake rock and let herself in.
The kitchen smelled greasy. The floors were sticky, the counter was covered with old spills, and the sink was piled with dirty dishes. The television in the living room played something with a laugh track. Beatrice crept through the kitchen to the hall where she could see more. Melanie sat on the couch in front of the TV with a laptop on her knees. Brightly colored candies slid and popped all over the screen. Beatrice slipped past the opening and moved further down the hall to Kenny’s bedroom door. She peeked inside. No one was there, but the room was obviously occupied. Women’s clothes and shoes were strewn all over. Melanie had taken over the master bedroom.
Beatrice couldn’t imagine that Melanie and Kenny were sharing a bed. He must be sleeping somewhere else. The layout of Kenny’s house was identical to Beatrice’s, so she slipped up the stairs to the guest room. The door was closed. A shiny new locking bolt was installed on it.
Nobody puts a bolt on a bedroom door, not on the outside anyway. Even if Melanie kept Kenny locked in for his own safety, it was illegal as hell. If there were a fire, he wouldn’t be able to escape.
Beatrice slid the bolt and opened the door. She was careful to be silent, and even Doro didn’t hear. The dog lay on the bed beside Kenny, and both appeared to be sound asleep. Beatrice closed the door behind her as quietly as she could, and this time the dog heard her. She sat up and barked.
Kenny’s eyes flew open and met hers. Before either of them could speak, though, Melanie called from the living room.
“Shut that goddamn dog up or she’s going back in the basement!”
Kenny’s eyes widened, and he grabbed Doro to his chest. “Hush, Doro. Be a good girl. Stay with daddy.”
Beatrice put her finger to her lips and moved close to the bed. “Kenny,” she whispered, “what’s going on here? Did you really marry that woman?”
Kenny’s brow creased. “She showed me a certificate. I don’t remember it. Why would I marry her?” he asked, as if he expected her to know the answer.
Beatrice shook her head. “Is she keeping you locked in here?”
“She’ll let me keep Doro, as long as we’re both quiet.”
“That’s not okay, Kenny. It’s not legal. Do you want to leave? I’ll help you.”
“But Doro—”
“We’ll take Doro too. I’ll take you home. We’ll call the police.”
Several bottles of prescription medications cluttered the flat headboard. Beatrice examined the labels. Muscle relaxers, sleeping pills, anti-depressants…even an antipsychotic drug, which Kenny had never needed. The bottles were issued from different doctors, and all contained usage warnings of confusion, grogginess, risk of falls, even death. Beatrice pocketed them and moved to the closet. She found a duffel bag, tossed the pill bottles into it, and added some clothes and shoes. She looked over her shoulder to see what Kenny wore on his feet and gasped. Melanie had slipped in as silently as Beatrice had. She stood beside the bed. Kenny and Doro watched her with anxious expressions.
“You nosy bitch,” Melanie said. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”
Beatrice straightened. “No, you’re the one who shouldn’t be here. You’re exploiting this man, and probably overdosing him too. I’m reporting it.”
“No one will believe you.”
“They’ll believe me.” Beatrice pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’m a judge, you know.”
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” Melanie raised her hand. A syringe was tucked expertly between her fingers. She pressed the tip of it against Kenny’s arm. “Give me your phone.”
They stared at each other for several long moments, but it was a foregone conclusion. Beatrice had no idea what was in the syringe. It could be a harmless saline, for all she knew, but she couldn’t take the chance. When Melanie pricked his skin, Beatrice tossed the phone. She aimed for Melanie’s left hand, hoping it would send her off balance, but it didn’t work like in the movies. Melanie leaned over, caught the phone, and slipped out the door before Beatrice could react. Beatrice rushed to the door, but she was too late. The bolt slid shut.
Beatrice turned. “Oh, Kenny, I’m sorry. I don’t suppose you have a phone?”
He shook his head. “She took it a long time ago.”
Beatrice went to the window and tugged, but it wouldn’t budge. She looked closely to find the sill was nailed shut. “Oh, crap.” If only Leigh could call the police for her…
“Kenny, we’ve got to get out of here.” She looked around for something to pry open the window. “Do you have any tools in here? Anything sharp?”
“I already tried that,” Kenny said. “There isn’t anything.”
It seemed he was right. She opened the dresser drawers, but found nothing except clothes and towels. Aside from the bed, the dresser was the only piece of furniture in the room. There wasn’t even a chair she could throw through the window.
They were in trouble. Leigh couldn’t call the police, and no one would miss Beatrice until she didn’t show up for work on Monday. She had no idea what Melanie planned to do with her, but she wasn’t about to sit around waiting for it.
Then she smelled smoke. Doro smelled it too. She barked again.
“Hush,” Kenny said. “She’ll put you in the basement.”
Beatrice threw her weight at the door, but it didn’t even tremble. “I don’t think you have to worry about that anymore.” She returned to the window in time to see the blue Prius turn the corner. “She set us on fire, Kenny.”
How long would it take for one of their neighbors to notice the smoke? Too long. Already Beatrice could see the smoke trickling in from under the door. She looked helplessly at Kenny, who finally seemed to grasp how dire their situation was. His expression was grave, but not confused. He swung his feet to the floor, but was too weak and drugged to help. It was up to Beatrice.
She turned to the dresser. It was massive and too heavy for her to move. She opened a drawer and tugged, but it wouldn’t come out. She rocked it and pulled again, with no success. More smoke seeped into the room. Kenny coughed. Beatrice’s eyes watered. She put her hand on the door and felt how hot it had gotten in just that short amount of time. Melanie must have set the fire right outside Kenny’s door.
They had no more time.
“Get back,” she hollered. She wrapped one of Kenny’s shirts around her hand, closed her eyes, and smashed her fist against the window. Glass shattered. Ignoring the shards, she leaned out.
“Help!”
“Will you be warm enough?” Leigh asked.
“I wish you’d stop worrying about me,” Beatrice answered, but she grabbed a sweatshirt. It was early enough in the fall that the days were still warm, but it cooled off quickly in the evening.
“There’s only one way to make me stop worrying.”
“Don’t,” Beatrice said and felt guilty when Leigh said nothing. “I wish you could come with me.”
“Kenny doesn’t want to see me. Tonight’s about you. You’re his hero.”
“Me and the cute firemen who carried him out of the house. They’re the real reason he’s having this barbecue. I’m not stupid.”
“You sav
ed his life.”
“Yeah, I did. That slimy bitch was just waiting for him to die. Luckily she didn’t have the nerve to give him an overdose outright, so she gave him all those drugs to make him confused and weak and left him to fall down the stairs or maybe overdose himself.”
“He didn’t have that much money.”
“It was a lot to her. And she’d done it before. He was the third old man she’d married, and he was the only one to survive.”
“Wasn’t one of the firefighters a woman? Maybe he’s trying to set you up.”
“Oh, come on. She was barely forty, if that.”
“So? You’re fifty-eight. You’re not dead.”
Beatrice didn’t answer. She slipped her keys in her pocket and picked up the pie container to take with her to the barbecue.
“Don’t forget your phone,” Leigh said.
“Oh, yeah. For all the good it did last time.”
“It helped them catch her. I hope the charges stick.”
“She tried to kill us. They’ll stick.”
“It was torture waiting for you to get home that day. I was always there to protect you, but when you needed me most, I couldn’t. That was hard.”
“I was fine.”
“You were hurt, Bea.”
“Just a little.” The scar on her arm was still red, but it was healing smoothly.
“It’s torture worrying about you, Bea. Make it go away.”
Beatrice’s eyes stung, and she turned to the wall. “Don’t. I can’t.”
“Let me go.”
“No.” Beatrice approached the wooden box on the sideboard. “I know it’s hard for you to be stuck here like this, but at least we’re together. What if it’s worse where you’re going?”
“We can’t avoid it. None of us can.”
“But we could go together. Don’t you want to wait for me, Leigh?”
“No, love. It doesn’t work like that.”
“How do you know?” Beatrice’s voice broke. “You haven’t even made it there yet.”
“I’ve made it farther than you. We have our own journeys over here. I need to get started on mine, and you have work to finish there. Please. Let me go.”
Tears dripped down Beatrice’s face. “I can’t.” She wrapped her arms around the box, slumped over it, and sobbed. “I can’t.” Soon her tears ran into the grooves that formed the words carved on top.
Leigh Scott
Seasons of Deception Page 2
