Mad Max: Unintended Consequences (13 page)

Every time I stood in the doorway of Whip's office-den-bedroom, I started the conversation with “Whip, we need to talk.” Confiding in my son-in-law had become a routine late night activity.

“Yeah.” Whip shifted a pile of papers from my chair to the desk and waved me in. “Still a mess.”

“Do you have ice in the bar?” I sat in my favorite and only chair and turned on the table lamp. The desk lamp threw too small a pool of light to chase the shadows from the corners of the room. Or from my mind.

“Sure do. What's your poison tonight?”

“Jack on the Rocks. Two fingers.”

Whip poured Jack Daniel's for me and picked out a single malt for himself. We raised glasses across the room.

“Clink.”

“Clink.”

I gasped as the first sip of bourbon flowed down my throat.
God, it burns good.
“This whole mess sucks. I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

“Merry and I fight all the time. Gotten worse since I told her to dump Hunter.” I was out of ideas about how to beat sense into my daughter.

“Yeah. Totally under his spell.”

“You know Em's afraid of him, don't you?”

“Oh boy, that's an understatement.” Whip sipped his Scotch.

I stared out the sliding glass door into an eerie blackness, my reflection glaring back at me. A frown deepened on my forehead. Whip must have forgotten to reset the timer on the garden lights because the pathway to the pool wasn't visible from where I sat.

“Gotta protect the kids.”

“That's not why I came back, but it's why I stay.”

“Can't thank you enough.” Whip saluted me with a near-empty glass. Without asking, he set the Jack on the table next to my chair. We refilled as one.

“I'm contributing to the hostile home environment. I keep trying to reach Merry. Can't break through her walls.”

“Well, you aren't creating the environment.” Whip slid down on his spine and stared at the ceiling. “She is.”

“Both kids spend too much time IMing or texting their friends rather than doing something active.”

This hiding-behind-technology behavior bothered me, but there was only so much I could handle. I was pretty much full up, as my granddaddy used to say. I shivered. I turned and stared outside, half expecting to see Hunter staring in. The patio seemed empty, but I couldn't shake the feeling someone watched.

“Hired a lawyer today.”

“Divorce attorney?”

“Yeah. Female, about four hundred pounds, been whupped with an ugly stick. The best damned divorce lawyer in town, according to Darla.”

It made sense to call Darla. When her husband left with his secretary, Darla made out like a bandit.

“You work on the divorce. I'll follow the money. That's what they do in thrillers.” I stood up.

“Are we in a thriller?” Whip's smile stopped at his lips.

“No, we're in a sordid family drama. I don't want it to turn into a tragedy.” When I walked into the hall, the chill lingered.

Time to keep my promise to Alex. I invited him to the paintball range. I raided Merry's closet for a ratty pair of jeans, disgusting sneakers and one of Whip's T-shirts that should have been turned into a rag years earlier. Alex came downstairs in camo fatigues with his paintball gear in a matching backpack. I'd rent whatever I needed.

I slaughtered Alex. He learned two serious lessons about his dear old grandmother: I was a darned good shot, and I was ruthless in combat. I let him get in a couple of hits, but nothing like I did. Even after ice cream, he sulked all the way home. When I told Emilie and Whip what I'd done, they laughed until they cried.

“Where did you learn to shoot, Mad Max?”

I'd never told Emilie I knew my way around real guns. Same principles of taking aim and firing applied to paintball. “Africa.”

“Alex will never live this down.” Emilie mopped her face. “Tell me his friends weren't there.”

“Can't. Ben Wheeler and three other boys. Got them too.”

“So if one talks, they all have to confess they got beaten by an old lady.”

“Who's an old lady?” I put my fists on my hips and glowered at Emilie. “Just for that, you get to fix dinner tonight.”

I huffed upstairs for a hot shower.

Another pattern emerged. I listened at night for Merry to come home, just like I did when she was a teen. I could relax only when I knew she was safe. One night I retired to my room after dinner to read and have a few moments of privacy when Emilie tapped at my door to tell me her mother was home at last. I glanced at the clock. Only nine-thirty.

“She's early. Guess Dr. Wonderful stood her up.”

Much as I wanted to lapse into Mommy two dot oh, I didn't. Emilie was entitled to her opinion, even when it was disrespectful.

I went downstairs. “Em heard Merry come in.” I walked into the den, sat in my chair, crossed trouser-clad legs, and leaned back.

“Saw her. Blind drunk.” Whip knuckled bloodshot eyes. He looked so exhausted it about broke my heart.

“Remember how the Watergate co-conspirators got caught because the Democrats followed the money?”

Whip nodded. “I've been doing just that.”

“Me too.”

“Any luck?” I changed positions and tucked one leg under me. Men never understood how we women could sit on folded legs without losing circulation.

“Haven't found a damned cent.” Whip reached into his desk and pulled out a stack of papers. “Here's where some of it went. She bought him a fucking car! Paid cash. A Hummer, no less.”

“Jeez. Can she be that stupid? After Hunter's car was shot up, I never figured she'd buy him another.” I rattled ice in my glass, my least favorite nervous habit. “She has more money than you know.”

“Huh?” Whip asked.

“When my last husband, Reggie, died, I set up a trust fund for the kids and an emergency joint account for Merry. I should've told you.”

For the life of me, I couldn't remember why I hadn't. Whip waved his hand as if my news was a gnat near his eyes.

I'd grown up in poverty on the family farm where money was so tight that every penny I spent squealed in pain. Years later, I heard Oprah Winfrey, then the richest woman in the world, tell of her terror of going broke and becoming a bag lady. She kept a large amount of cash on hand in case the worst happened and she lost everything. I tried to explain to Whip that most basic fear, the fear of having absolutely nothing.

“Anyway, Merry's bag lady account's empty.”

“The damage?”

“Well over one hundred fifty thousand.” I shrugged. “It kinda grew over the years.”

“So, she's withdrawn between three hundred fifty and four hundred thousand. Where the hell is it?”

“I might have a clue, Dad.”

Whip and I had been too engrossed to hear Emilie come downstairs until she spoke.

“You do?”

Emilie held a sandwich in one hand and a small black key in the palm of the other.

“A safe-deposit box?” I stared at the key, my mind slamming two and two together. “The money's in cash?”

“Where did you get that, Em?” Whip stared at the key.

“Mom's jewelry box. I wanted to borrow her gold bangle. I found this, but I'm not sure what it's for.”

“You shouldn't be looking in Mom's things without her permission.” A response so programmed I didn't think before I spoke.

“Yeah, well.” Emilie rolled her eyes in a way guaranteed to annoy the crap out of her father and me.

“Em,” Whip warned.

“May I see it?” I held out my hand. “Is there a name on it?”

Emilie shook her head. The key was blank except for a number stamped on the top.

“I wonder which bank it belongs to.”

“One of those near the corner of Second and Broad, I think. Mom and I stopped one day weeks ago.”

“Thanks. This helps a lot.” I had to see what was inside the box.

“Me and Alex—”

“Alex and I.” Again, an automatic response.

“So, Alex and I have been trying to figure out what she's doing.”

“And?” I was curious.

“Got a good idea.” Alex walked up behind Emilie. “Family council?”

“Is now,” Whip said.

“Mom's going to leave us soon.”

“How do you know?”

“Heck, I hacked into her cell phone. I've been reading her texts for weeks.” Alex looked smug. If we didn't need every bit of information, I'm sure Whip would have exploded, especially over actions where he would have grounded Alex for life.

“Did you learn this at computer camp?”

“Well…”

“What does she say?” Whip shocked me by dismissing the hacking infraction.

“All lovey-dovey stuff. Icky sexy stuff.”

“Euw.” Emilie wrinkled her nose.

“Stuff about the money being there. Being ready.” Alex cracked his gum and blew a huge bubble. It burst on his nose.

“That reminds me. Don't go anywhere.” Emilie dashed out of the den. In a couple of seconds, she returned with a handful of napkins.

“I found these in the kitchen desk.” She handed them to me.

Girlish doodles intertwined with variations of Merry's name with Hunter's.

“Molly scribbles all over her notebooks just like this. But Mom? It's, like, so disgusting.”

“‘Andy and Kiki’? Who's Kiki?” Whip didn't touch the napkins.

I remembered the night in Merry's hospital room and shivered when a goose walked across my grave.

“It's who Hunter turned Merry into.”

“But who is it?” Alex wouldn't let up.

“It's the answer to this whole mess,” Emilie said.

“What do you suggest we do, guys?” I stared at the napkins. Emilie was right. I held the major clue in my hand.

“Break into the bank and steal the box.”

I imagined Alex trying to pull off a bank heist with little more than his cell as a weapon. Had this not been so important, I would have laughed.

“Lock her in her room until she comes to her senses.” Emilie offered a slightly less aggressive suggestion.

“Arrest Dracula.” Alex overworked his gum. He really wanted to play detective. Maybe it'd be a good distraction.

“Figure out who Kiki is.” Outwardly, Emilie appeared calm and analytical, but inwardly? How much of a toll was the family turmoil taking on her?

“Well, we can't rob the bank, but I think I can get into the box once we find it.” I turned toward the window. Its black surface was impenetrable but reflected my pensive face.

“We can't lock her in her room. Even though she's not acting like a grown-up, she is one,” Whip said.

“We can't arrest Dracula. He hasn't committed a crime,” Emilie added.

“That we know of,” Alex muttered. He went back upstairs.

“Look, guys, don't want you involved. My problem, not yours.” Whip shook his head and stared at Johnny and me in the IV Drip coffeehouse near the office. “I can do this myself.”

“Sure you can. We're in this with you, like it or not.” I stared him down.

Johnny spoke over the hissing of the milk steamer. “Hey, man, we're just here to help. We can arrange for Hunter to have a ‘chat’ with you.”

“Talk to me.”

“We want to mess with him, because he thinks he's gotten away with the affair.”

“How are you going to do that?”

I told Whip he needed to go to Omaha for a meeting.

“Why Omaha?”

“Why not? You're not going anywhere. Merry will think you are. Leave the tickets on the kitchen counter. She'll see them.”

“She'll run off to Hunter. We'll make dinner reservations at the Heritage Grille for the same night,” Johnny said.

“How can you be sure they'll be there?”

“The PI says it's their only place. Besides, Alex reads her texts. It'll be too juicy an opportunity for her to pass up.” I fluffed my new, shorter haircut.

“Once we're in place, I'll get him into the alley.” Johnny grinned his lopsided grin. A scar from a boyhood knife fight slanted across his lower face and chin. It pulled the skin on one side of his mouth tighter than the other. “Then you can have your talk.”

“Still don't like involving you.”

“What are you going to do? Barge into the restaurant? Throw down a glove and call him out?” I thrust out my chin. No way would Johnny and I miss the big scene.

“Not in so many words. Planned to call his cell. Force him into meeting me.”

“If that doesn't work?”

“Keep calling until the coward faces me.” His plan leaked like a sieve.

“I don't think Hunter would meet you anywhere, but I can make him go with me,” Johnny said.

“Our way's better,” I said. “You're supposed to be away, so his guard'll be down. Time we wreck his plans, big time.”

Johnny and I arrived at the Heritage Grille half an hour early and waited at the back edge of the parking lot. After Whip pulled up beside Johnny's truck, we stood in the lot for a final briefing. Johnny and I'd wait until Hunter went to the men's room. Johnny would follow and convince him to go with him. I'd call Whip to head for the alley behind the restaurant when everything was in place.

Whip was no longer fighting to get his wife back. He didn't want her, no matter what. He wanted revenge.

“Give me your cell.” I stopped and turned back. “Take mine.”

“Why?” Whip handed over his phone.

“Wait for my call.”

With that, Johnny and I entered the restaurant. Whip stood next to Johnny's truck, a strange phone in one hand and nothing to do but wait. In less than an hour, I called.

“They're headed for the men's room,” I whispered and thumbed the phone off.

I'd slipped out the front door right after Johnny went to the men's room. I rounded the corner just as Hunter staggered down the steps from the kitchen exit. Whip stepped out of the shadows. In the city glow reflecting off low-hanging clouds, Hunter clutched his stomach and gasped for breath. Johnny held him by the nape of his neck.

“What happened?”

“He was reluctant to come with me, but he changed his mind.” Johnny released Hunter. The bastard swayed before regaining his balance.

“Son of a bitch hit me in the stomach,” Hunter gasped. “What the fuck? You're supposed to be out of town.”

“Life's a bitch when you can't trust the word of your married lover, isn't it?”

“She said—”

“What I wanted her to say.” Whip took a step closer. “You prick. You preyed on my wife when she was most vulnerable. Told her you could make her perfect. Prescribed too many drugs. Suckered her into believing you were going to leave together.”

“I never promised that.” Hunter stood as upright as his bruised body allowed.

“Great. A prick and a liar.” Whip inched closer and smiled as Hunter took a step back before bumping up against the solid wall of Johnny.

“You've been feeding her a crock of shit for months. Promising you'd bolt after she got her money.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Hunter's eyes darted about.

“I never…” Hunter edged sideways toward the light from the parking lot. Johnny blocked his way. The slug wasn't going anywhere until Whip was done.

“At least twenty messages about money. Is that it? Is this all about money? Are you planning to dump Merry once you have it?”

Distrust gave way to panic when Whip raised his hand to block the doctor's escape. Hunter made a terrible mistake. He swung wildly. Whip ducked but not fast enough to avoid Hunter's fist grazing his cheekbone. His signet ring cut an inch-long slice under Whip's eye. He stared at the weasel in front of him.

Whip hit Hunter a quick right and left in the face. The first landed on his cheekbone; the second broke his nose. Blood splattered over his white shirt. Whip hit Hunter at will, on the face, on his ribs, in his stomach. He struck him one last time in the gut before connecting with a hard uppercut. Hunter dropped to his knees, pitched forward, and threw up. Tears mixed with bloody snot and puke.

Whip stepped back until Hunter finished puking and rocked back and forth whimpering. He leaned over and whispered in his ear. Whip planted one booted foot between Hunter's hands, lifted his foot, and stomped hard on the left hand. In a brief moment of total silence, I heard the metacarpals snap, followed by a shriek. Just at that moment, Merry ran around the corner of the restaurant. She tried to push her way into the alley, but Johnny grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet.

“Let me go,” Merry screamed. “He's killing Andy!”

“Not even close.” Johnny tightened his grip when Merry kicked and flailed.

Whip walked over to Merry. “I warned you someone would get hurt. You didn't believe me. I'm through with you.”

Johnny pushed Merry toward Hunter. We turned and walked out of the alley, Merry's screams followed us out to our trucks.

“Sounds like someone needs help.” I linked my arm through Johnny's.

“Yeah. Someone should call nine-one-one, dontcha think?” Johnny said.

“Yeah, someone should.” Whip wiped his hands on his puke-stained khakis.

If I was pumped on adrenaline, Whip was even higher. He shouldn't have driven home, but he insisted he was under control. He made it back and headed for the shower.

Half an hour later, Whip walked into the family room, clean but pale. Johnny and I had the bar open. Whip's hand shook so badly he could hardly hold the highball glass Johnny handed him. “Tell me what happened inside.”

“We screwed with that asshole's head big time,” Johnny said. “When we sent him text messages from your phone, he almost pissed his pants.”

“Johnny told Hunter to ‘leave my wife alone.’ You should've seen his head on a swivel. He looked like Linda Blair in
The Exorcist.
He thought you were in the restaurant, but he couldn't find you.” Now that I was calmer, I enjoyed telling Whip how clever we were.

“Hunter sent back a nasty-gram, warning he'd take legal action if you didn't stop stalking him.”

“Stalking?” Whip chuckled. “I haven't begun to stalk him. Yet. His ass is mine.”

“We waited until dessert and pinged him again. We told him to meet you outside. When Hunter went to the head, I followed. He was, shall we say, reluctant to take a walk, until his ribcage ran into my fist.” Johnny picked up the decanter and poured himself three more fingers.

“Merry put on lipstick, oblivious to what was going on.” I sipped my drink.

Johnny and Whip were intent on getting hammered. It must be a guy thing.

“So we messed with Hunter's head before you messed up his body.” Johnny laughed at his joke.

“What did you say to him when he was on the ground?” I hadn't been close enough to hear.

“I wanted to hurt him, not cripple him. I asked him if he was right-handed. He is, so I broke the bones in his left hand. He'll be out of commission until it heals. He won't be a doctor much longer, either, if I have my way. At any rate, Merry no longer lives here. She's not to enter this house without my permission. Is that clear?”

“You should've thrown her out weeks ago.”

“I'll be filing divorce papers tomorrow.”

“Don't forget to change the locks.”

Whip and Johnny raised their glasses in a mock toast. “Ding, dong, the bitch is gone.”

I couldn't join in. No matter what, the bitch was still my daughter.