She’d wanted to see him before they left, to remember him. Most of her time with Rob had been spent in a narcotic daze, on the desperate edge of an overdose. Her mind a puddle, distracted by her pill obsession and rage. She stared at Rob’s pockmarked face and stroked the glass.
If she’d known the end of the road would come so soon she’d have wanted to be more conscious for the journey.
She never wanted Rob Rhino in her life, didn’t realize he wormed his way in. She guessed she didn’t care how or why. She stood back away from the window. Her gut wrenched at the thought of the dead porn star behind Alex’s warehouse. Claire had no way of knowing what really happened to Gloria. She couldn’t bear to think of those things while her only real friend lay with two bullets in his chest, dead on a table behind glass in a basement.
Maybe she should’ve done everything different. Or nothing at all.
“What next?” Claire said.
Freddie Eddie looked almost as dead. “Well, I need to gather my wits. I told the police I’d need time to find his next of kin, so they agreed to not release his name to the press until I give them the go ahead. Not sure how much time I’ve got. I’m calling in favors. They’ll keep it quiet for me as long as they can.”
“Next of kin? I thought there was no next of kin?”
“There isn’t. But I don’t want the press swarming around right now. And neither do you.” Freddie Eddie led her to the only two metal chairs in the stark hallway.
“I talked to Joe Lansing too. This isn’t great for them either, so I’ll get with their PR guy and decide the best way to handle it.”
Claire rubbed both temples with her hands. “This is all a nightmare.”
“Do you still want to go through with your memorial?”
“You better believe it.” Claire set her teeth, ground her molars. “It’s what I came here for. I won’t let Elgin Grady win.”
“When is it?”
Claire thought, counted. “Thursday.”
“In the meantime I’ll make Rob’s arrangements. I told them he was Jewish so we can get a quick burial.”
Jack Jew.
“He’s not though,” Claire said. “He’s not any religion.”
“No, he’s not.” Freddie Eddie closed his almost black eyes, his voice terse. “But I don’t want anyone posting anything disgusting on the internet. I want him off that table, out of the morgue, and cremated, so we can give the man a decent burial.”
He nodded his head toward a nondescript guy in a uniform sitting in the corner of the room with Rob behind the glass. “I’ve got twenty-four-hour security.”
Claire felt her face fold in. The internet. She hadn’t thought of that.
“Please, Freddie Eddie, let me help you. I insist on paying.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing to pay for. I’m going take his ashes home with me.” Freddie Eddie kept staring at Rob. “Rob let Gloria’s parents stash her remains who-knows-where so I’m gonna take Rob home with me. Rob doesn’t meet the guidelines for burial at the university so—”
Freddie Eddie really didn’t know about the switch. She started to tell him but didn’t feel good about betraying Rob’s confidence. She’d done enough damage for one day.
“Rob hated Los Angeles.”
“I don’t live in Los Angeles. I live in Connecticut.” Freddie Eddie gave a weak smile. “Beautiful place. He loved it there.”
One of the long tube light bulbs above their heads flickered, popped, and burnt out. Claire lifted her head. She remembered when she’d first met Rob, the day she almost ran him over, drove him to Alex’s Warehouse and asked his name.
“There it is,” he’d said pointing up to the marquee lit up with sparkling neon.
She’d looked up and there it shone. In lights.
The Last Day for Rob Rhino.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth, dried blood still under her nails.
Freddie Eddie prodded her upward by the elbow of her blood-covered shirt. “Let’s go home, kid.”
Chapter Sixty
“I can’t believe Elizabeth had a role in this. I can’t.” Grace’s voice shook. “However misguided. What with all the swanning around she’s been doing lately—”
“Grace, what do you know about Elizabeth and this mess?”
“Well, the police questioned her. She said she struck up a friendship with Elgin. She felt bad about how Liam treated Bonnie, of course we all did. Said he told her he was upset about everything he’d been hearing. Elizabeth said she told him that if he could meet you he’d know you meant well.”
“So Elizabeth’s story is she told him I was going to the chapel today just so he could come meet me, to talk to me?” Claire glanced over at Freddie Eddie who looked almost asleep on Rob’s side of the recliner. “And she was kind enough to offer a description of me?”
“Yes. That’s what she assures us and the police. She had no idea he went with a gun or bad intentions.”
“It wouldn’t have made sense to call me and ask me about it?”
“Now why would she have done that?”
“Never mind.”
“Well, the police are satisfied with Elizabeth’s explanation.” Grace said. “As am I.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“This isn’t going to postpone the memorial or anything, is it?”
On that they were in agreement.
“Absolutely not.”
“Good,” Grace said obnoxious with relief. “Have they identified the poor man Elgin killed yet?”
Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.
“Not that I’ve heard. They’re still trying to find his family as far as I know. Probably a tourist.”
****
Claire padded up the stairs, phone in hand, leaving Freddie Eddie asleep in the loveseat. She’d called Jordan against her better judgment. She wasn’t sure when the shooting would make the national news so she thought it was better he hear it from her. She still wasn’t speaking with Annabelle. In due time. She was just a spoiled kid, Claire knew. But they’d have a lot to talk about when Claire got home.
She wanted to head to the nearest alleyway to see if she could find some nice man in a trench coat with some pills in the inside pockets. She’d love a drink. She thought of Rob’s bleeding body on the ground, his life running out around her loafers. Her hands started to shake.
She’d talked to Joe Lansing, who made the kind offer to bring dinner over, which she declined. He assured her the memorial arrangements were set without the face-to-face with the priest. He’d received the photo of Liam from Conchita. They’d have that in a frame at the service. All Claire needed to do was bring his ashes to the chapel.
Claire headed for her room but paused. At the end of the hall Rob Rhino’s sanctuary offered silent solace. She felt Rob’s presence in her chest, behind her knees. She stumbled, catching herself on a tufted chair. For a moment she thought she’d throw up. She knelt, tried to squelch her panic underneath Gloria’s serene gaze. After a few minutes she stood and looked at the painting of the woman whose unseemly death had wreaked so much havoc.
“So this is it? The man cave?” Freddie Eddie said startling her.
“You’ve never been in here?”
“Claire, straight men don’t hang out in other straight men’s bedrooms.” Freddie Eddie wandered the room. “Where’s the bed?”
Claire pointed to the bedroom. Freddie walked over, peeked in, turned on the light. “Good night nurse. What a mess. That’s more like it.”
“Right?” Claire laughed. “That’s what I told him.”
Claire sat in the same leather chair she’d sat in the night before. Freddie Eddie took Rob’s.
“So you’ve been in here, have you?” Freddie Eddie smiled and winked.
“Oh for God’s sake. The man’s not even cold—”
“Don’t get your dander up.” He ran his hands along the smooth surface of the supple leather armchair. “Stranger things have happe
ned.” Freddie Eddie shrugged and laughed.
Claire felt herself turning crimson, remembering the close calls. Freddie Eddie laughed harder.
****
“Cheers.” They clinked their root beer bottles together.
Freddie Eddie drank almost the whole bottle in one throw, he’d been sufficiently impressed by Rob’s hidden desk fridge. Claire took a much smaller sip of her root beer along with the pill Freddie Eddie gave her. She didn’t know what she’d do when she went home. On her own.
“What really happened to Gloria?”
Freddie Eddie balanced the almost empty bottle on the edge of chair’s arm. “I only know what he told me. She died of an accidental overdose. I knew she was a junkie, knew he tried to save her.” He scratched the side of his nose with one long finger. “Next thing I know he’s calling, crying. She’s dead.”
“Were you around?”
“No. She’d already been cremated by the time I got back.” Freddie Eddie got up, fetched another root beer. “I’d been out of town with Marie when it happened. It was after that he started with the charity stuff. You know he’s a donor. A big one. He gives a couple million dollars away every year anonymously.”
Claire swallowed hard. “And the other one, the porn star? You think he had something to do with that?”
Freddie Eddie lowered himself back down in the chair, let his air out. “I do.”
“Was she an addict?”
“Yes. When the dust settled the investigators chalked her death up to accidental overdose too.”
“What about the bruises?” Claire fingered her own.
“Never any suspects, no motive.”
“Rob wasn’t suspected?”
“Are you kidding?” Freddie Eddie crossed his polyester bell bottom-covered legs at the ankles. “He was beloved around here. No way.”
“Why would you suspect him? Could be coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
Claire had said that herself, to Rob Rhino.
Freddie Eddie continued. “And she wasn’t the only girl who ended up dead.”
Claire grabbed both arms of the chair, her root beer bottle headed toward the rug. Freddie Eddie swooped to catch it.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“She was just the only one they found,” Freddie Eddie said.
“How could that be?
“Pat the janitor was Rob’s good friend for a reason.”
Claire knew if she opened her mouth she’d weep.
“Everybody loved Rob. My wife is inconsolable,” Freddie Eddie said. “He wanted the best for the worst. When it didn’t happen he went off the deep end.” He stared into the empty fireplace. “Like a magnet he’d suck right up to ’em. The worse off they were the harder he’d stick. He’d get real involved. Sometimes his help worked. One recovering addict married a doctor, one a day trader. But sometimes it didn’t.”
“Mercy,” Claire said.
“What?”
“He thought killing them was merciful.”
****
It felt weird to sleep in Rob’s house without him in it. Freddie Eddie promised not to leave so he slept down the hall in one of the other bedrooms. Claire pulled off her jeans and lay on top of the beautiful canopied bed in just her Michael Kors top. She thought about taking it off when she saw Liam in his usual spot.
The thing about dead husbands—you always knew where they were. One of the perks.
That and all the money they leave you. She reached over and pulled off the top of the urn. There he was, up in smoke, tied in a neat little baggie.
She remembered how terrible she’d felt the day he’d died. She’d been so stunned, felt so guilty. She found out you can’t die of shame because she hadn’t. Her rage possessed her and never left. Then all her hair fell out, then the worsening anxiety, the never-ending quest for pills. More rage, the plotting, her quest for revenge.
So different than how she felt about losing Rob Rhino.
Claire slammed the urn lid down, leaned back against the headboard. She felt an overwhelming sadness at his absence. Her heart ached knowing she’d given so little to him, yet he’d given everything for her.
Claire realized when Liam died, she felt bad only for herself, for what she’d wished, done, found out, omitted.
I don’t know what you feel for me, Claire, but it isn’t love.
Liam’s words kept coming back to her.
Claire’d been tapering off her drugs and this was the thanks she got. Reality bites. Claire brought her legs up and rested her forehead on her knees. Liam took care of her, protected her. His money ensured it for her lifetime. She’d taken care of his child, his home, did her part.
But love?
No. She didn’t have it in her then. Maybe she didn’t have it in her now. But she wanted to try to find some.
If she could’ve known Rob Rhino first.
Claire took her last pill of the day, got undressed and crawled under the coverlet. A few more days and her quest would come to its satisfactory conclusion. She’d get with Freddie Eddie to see when Rob’s name would be released to the public, when his cremation would take place. The death details, a nasty business.
The two most important men in her life were dead. Soon they’d both rest in peace. Well, not Liam. He’d rest but not necessarily in peace. Rob would. She hoped.
Rest. In. Peace.
She turned out the light. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness after half an hour. Her mind rumbled.
Shit.
She got out of bed, pulled on her jeans, padded down the stairs in her bare feet.
“Freddie Eddie wake up. Get a shovel.”
Chapter Sixty-One
“Oh my god. I’m so glad you’re all right. If anything had happened to you I’d have died.” Elizabeth threw her arms around Claire’s neck, yelled in her ear.
She’d have died?
Claire stood with her arms straight at her sides at the front of the chapel.
The surviving members of the Corrigan family paraded up the center aisle. Elizabeth led the brigade. She’d seen Claire first and like a goony bird attempting flight she squawked to her, wings spread, beak flapping.
“Elizabeth, this is a church. Keep it down.”
Grace, the madonna herself, didn’t greet Claire. She took her place in the first pew on the right in front of the easel holding her husband’s framed photo. Liam’s urn stood on the left. In opposition for eternity.
Connor, eyes downcast, veered into a front row pew, silent, somber. Claire had to admire his nerve. Deborah was a no-show.
“I got it all straightened out with the police.” Elizabeth grasped her throat with a hairy knuckled hand. “Why, I had no idea—”
Father McKinley saved Elizabeth from the bitch slap Claire itched to give her.
Joe Lansing and Dean Sumner fussed over her. Joe handed out programs. They both sat in the pew designated for Claire in front of Liam’s photo.
Father McKinley took his place underneath the stained-glass window as the stirring sounds of some church type music filled the stone room. Claire peeked over at the other side of the church. Elizabeth’s eyes were closed tight, her hands together in a steeple.
Who was the bitter wretch kidding?
Grace looked smug. She could hardly hide her satisfied smile. Claire held her program tight.
Hag.
“Grant them eternal rest, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them…” Father McKinley droned.
Claire snuck a glance at Joe Lansing. She’d miss him when she left. He’d been good to her.
All the Corrigans were pulling down the kneelers. Oh no. The kneeling. How many times would they have to do that? It’s a funeral for God’s sake. Not aerobics class.
****
“Claire, I—” He must’ve followed Claire to her car after the chapel service.
Claire turned only half surprised to see him. “Connor.”
“I know I should leave
you alone. I don’t have the right.”
He looked haggard, old. A lot like Claire. She guessed he wasn’t sleeping. The rage she expected to feel for him didn’t materialize. Something short of pity seeped in.
“Whatever you have to say—it doesn’t matter, Connor.”
He hung his head. “As inadequate as it is I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She took his hand. “I don’t think I care about it. I’ll go home and you’ll still be here with them. I win.”
He met her eyes, the saddest man. “We were so desperate.” A single tear rolled. “We lost sight of right and wrong.”
Claire got it. Desperation she understood.
Her mind rolled on. “You don’t intend to go through with this family crypt, never did. Am I right?”
His head still hung low. “Yes, you’re right. Our son is at Creekside where we’ll be eventually.”
“You just strung me along.”
Claire’s hand on the handle of her bag turned white.
“I didn’t know what I was doing.” He put his head up. “I just wanted to keep an eye on you, keep the drugs—” He cried in earnest. “God I’m so ashamed.”
She wondered if Liam would have looked like this had he ever cried.
“Well, the crypt is there, feel free. This is a beautiful place.”
Connor swiped at his wet face with an impatient hand. “No, we’ll pass.” He glanced over his shoulder at his mother and sister loitering outside the chapel. “Liam wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to spend eternity with my family.”
Claire almost smiled. “Go home to your wife, Connor.”
He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, tripped back toward the chapel.
“Connor?”
He looked over his shoulder.
“When did you and Liam start speaking to each other again?”
“We never stopped.”
****
“Still no idea about the dead guy?” William the buffoon said.
“Not as far as I know.” Claire lied. “I heard the whole sordid story on the news this morning and they’re still saying they’re looking for a next of kin. He had no driver’s license, no ID.”
She looked out across the lot at the crime scene tape. Her legs wobbled.
The Last Day For Rob Rhino Page 24
