Whittaker 03.5 If Nothing Changes (3 page)

“
What do you mean?”

“
Quinn never lied about what he had to offer. It was never some big, romantic thing, and I always knew he was seeing other women. It was just …
sex
. Really, really good sex, I might add. When he’s with you, it’s like he’s studying for a test and your pleasure is his A-plus. The man is seriously skilled.”

I took a quick swallow of coffee, burning through four layers of taste buds.

“
But I think Jillian was different,” Shayla continued.

“
How so?”

“
For one thing, he cut it off with me. He’d never done that before. It’s always the woman who breaks it off with him, not vice versa. I’ve talked with a lot of his girlfriends or exes or whatever you want to call them, and they all say the same thing: he didn’t break up with them. Why would he?”

I could think of bunches of reasons, but I kept them to myself. “You said he broke up with you, but didn’t you two get, um,
caught
?” In Jillian’s bed, my mind added.

“
Yeah, we did. He broke up with me after, when he was trying to get Jillian back. And that was unusual, too. He never pursues any girl if she leaves. I mean, besides just flirting, you know? Once you broke it off with him, he let it go. If you came back, fine. If not, there was always someone willing to jump in bed with him. But he really tried with Jillian. He wanted her back bad.”

“
How do you know?” I asked, fascinated.

Shayla snorted. “He came and talked to me about her. Can you believe it? I wanted to smack him, but … I don’t know. He looked too pitiful. I actually felt sorry for him. And you know what?”

“
What?”

“
That last time? Even before Jillian walked in on us, he was having trouble.” She waggled her eyebrows at me to indicate the exact nature of Quinn’s sexual difficulty. “At first, he told me he didn’t want to, but I was, like, ‘Come on. One last time?’ It wasn’t a good idea, though. His heart just wasn’t in it, and I guess that ruined it for Mr. Winky, too.”

I coughed.
Mr. Winky?
“Why Jillian’s bed? Wasn’t that just a setup for getting caught?”

“
Yeah, well, my place was getting fumigated, and obviously we couldn’t go to Quinn’s. I didn’t want to waste the money on a hotel, which, considering Mr. Winky’s performance, was a good thing.”

“
What about Nan in all this? She has to know he’s cheating on her, especially if he’s dating women from the club.”

“
I’m sure she does, deep down,” Shayla said. “But they’ve got the four kids, and she had Quinn coming home every night. I guess she was willing to look the other way.”

I’d seen it too many times in counseling to be surprised. For whatever reason, some spouses made that trade-off. Maybe for the kids, maybe for the money or status, if those were part of the equation, but mostly, I thought, because they just didn’t trust that they would survive the pain that facing reality would bring. As past president of the Avoid Reality At All Costs club, I couldn’t judge.

“
Do you know if she came to the Halloween dance?”

“
I know she didn’t. Quinn wouldn’t have danced with Jillian if Nan was there. He’s got some discretion, after all.”

Debatable
. “If Jillian danced with him, could that mean she was taking him back?”

“
I’m sure she would’ve wanted to teach him a lesson, but there isn’t a woman alive who could resist Quinn if he really put his mind to it.” She sighed.

“
Do you think…”

Shayla waited.

“
What would Nan do if he asked for a divorce?”

* * *

“
I’d kill him, too.”

I wasn’t sure if Sue was kidding. We sat in the HP & Me club’s lobby, waiting for the Tuesday night Al-Anon meeting to end. I’d tried to get there before it started to see if Nan showed up, but I got stuck at work. A lot of folks milled around, most of them waiting to file into the main hall for the open speaker meeting that started soon. I could barely hear Sue, who sat across the table.

Jay, still mourning, sat entrenched in his spot in the corner. He’d been there so long and so often, a Jay-hole eroded the seat in the already used-and-abused couch, making Jay sink deeper and deeper into the threadbare cushions.

He didn’t look good. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his hair flopped dull and stringy in his face. His body odor had developed layers and nuances that made my eyes sting. I was surprised no one had intervened with him before now, and I felt guilty.

“
Doesn’t he have a sponsor?” I whispered to Sue.

“
He fired his sponsor two days ago. People are starting to get worried, but no one knows what to do. It’s awkward, but we can’t kick him out and wouldn’t want to, anyway. Seems to me, this situation is more in your line of work, isn’t it?” She gave me a severe, do-something look.

“
I’ll give it a shot, but I want to talk to Nan first.” I doubted the chat with Jay would be a short one, and I didn’t want to risk missing Quinn’s wife.

“
You haven’t talked to her yet?”

“
No. I would have, but I didn’t see what Nan’s motive would be if Jillian had already broken up with Quinn. What would be the point?”

“
Maybe she didn’t know about them until the Shayla-Quinn episode? Everyone in the club was talking about that when it happened. No matter how self-deluded Nan would want to be even she couldn’t have avoided hearing about them.

“
But then why not kill Shayla? She was the one found with Quinn, not Jillian. And Jillian broke up with him. Besides, the Halloween party was months after Shayla and Quinn were discovered. Why wait?”

“
Opportunity?” Sue conjectured.

In the corner, Jay put his head down and started crying. We were far enough away that I didn’t think he could have overheard our low conversation, but maybe he’d guessed. Or maybe he could read lips. Or maybe it was just his time to cry.

I promised myself a visit with him as soon as I finished with Nan. I didn’t know if he’d be willing to talk to me, especially after I brought up hospitalization, which I planned on. It looked like a psych ward stay might be advisable. Someone had to bring it up and, like Sue said, it was in my line.

Even though the last time we’d talked he’d said he was afraid to leave the club, I’d believed him when he’d denied wanting to hurt himself. He’d been too adamant, too appalled at the notion. Of course, he could have been a great actor. Alcoholics are known for that skill. But despite his wretchedness, my gut had told me he wasn’t contemplating suicide.

But why “afraid,” then? He’d used that word. If he wasn’t afraid of hurting himself, what - or who - did he fear? Did he know something more about Jillian’s murder than he’d let on? Was he trying to stay in public among witnesses? That hadn’t worked for Jillian, although considering the supply closet a public area was debatable.

Jay had said something else, too, when he’d talked about being afraid to leave. He’d referred to the club as a sanctuary. A strange choice of words. I should have asked him about it, but I’d been so focused on the potential for self-harm I’d missed the chance.

Sanctuary
…

Rhonda pushed through the club’s double doors, catching sight of Sue and me. She didn’t smile, but her face registered two degrees less hostile, so I knew she was glad to see us. She got a cup of coffee and came over.

“
Hey, Letty, remember when you were asking about Roger?”

I’d given up on that line, especially since no one I’d asked had seen him around for several weeks. No one had remembered him the night of the Halloween party, either.

“
He’s in jail,” Rhonda said. “For beating up his landlord. Guy showed up to get the rent, and Roger was drunk. The neighbor lady heard the commotion and ran out and hit Rog over the head with her nine-iron. Gave him a concussion, too. Do you think it’s too late for me to learn golf?”

The room started clearing as the open speaker meeting began. Jay stayed put, his head buried in his hands. It sounded like he’d stopped crying, but I couldn’t be sure.

“
You guys going to the meeting?” Rhonda said.

“
Not tonight,” I said. “I’m waiting for the Al-Anon meeting to end so I can talk to Nan.”

“
Good luck. She hasn’t been around. I heard from a friend of her sponsor that she’s not doing very well and that she’s saying she won’t come back. She’s too embarrassed. Someone said she’s even kicking Lover Boy out.”

My eyes met Sue’s. “So, she did find out about Quinn and Jillian then.”

“
That, and the cops have been talking to her,” Rhonda added.

“
They think she killed Jillian?” Sue asked.

“
I heard she was following Jillian around after the whole Shayla thing. Showing up here about five minutes after Jillian came in and stuff like that. She couldn’t exactly follow her into the meetings, the A.A. ones, I mean, but she waited out here for Jillian to come back out.”

I turned back to Sue. “See? She’s angry at Jillian, not Shayla. How does that make sense?”

“
Jillian was a threat,” Sue said. “She could ignore Shayla like all the others.”

“
Was Nan at the dance?” I said to Rhonda. I couldn’t put aside the notion that Nan could have been in costume. If Sue hadn’t already told me that it had been Jay dressed up as a sheep, I wouldn’t have recognized him in that get up. I hadn’t even recognized Jillian when I’d found her lying there on the floor. Of course, her face was distorted and that thin, purple line circling her neck had been a tad distracting.

I frowned. Something about that purple band … and costumes … But Rhonda was going on and I had to pay attention.

“
My friend said Nan’s sponsor said she wasn’t at the dance. She’s got an alibi, I guess, which is why they haven’t arrested her. Yet.”

“
What’s her alibi?” Sue asked.

“
How should I know? I mind my own business.” Rhonda rose to refresh her coffee, and I watched Sue struggle with the urge to attack.

I grabbed her arm. “Don’t do it. Besides, it’s her second cup. She’ll probably get heartburn. Coffee that bad should be a crime.”

Thinking about crime, both big and small, brought me full circle to the nagging thought that Rhonda’s arrival had interrupted. “Sue, what does ‘sanctuary’ mean?”

“
Refuge. Asylum. Why?”

“
But wasn’t it for
fugitives
from the law? Like, they could run into the temple - the sanctuary - and be protected from the authorities?” Most of my knowledge about sanctuary came from an old James Michener novel, but while I was sure he researched the hell out of his subjects, I wasn’t on firm ground. Sue was a teacher. She’d know.

“
I don’t know,” she said. “What difference does it make?”

I sighed. “It implies …” My gaze wandered to the corner. Jay stared. Our eyes locked. An image of the sheep’s bell dangling from a leather cord around his neck flashed through my mind

“
It implies
guilt
,” I said.

The word hung in the air between Jay and me. I’d breached the wall of secrecy that surrounded him like a thorn patch. More than anything, secrets disconnect us from each other, from our own emotions, from our Higher Power. Now that I knew, Jay wasn’t alone, anymore.

He didn’t seem very grateful for it.

His lips pulled back in a feral grin. Flinging himself from the couch, he launched himself over the table, bringing Sue and me down in a crash. I fell hard, landing on my back, head thudding against the floor.
Stars
. Jay straddled me, his face contorted out of recognition in anger. He grappled for my neck, hands twisting around my throat, squeezing.
He must have a thing for necks.
Then, he got creative and set to banging my head repeatedly, rhythmically, against the cheap linoleum. His face, inches from my own, had reverted to an expressionless, business-like determination. I clawed at his face.

Sue, still crawling on the floor next to us, grabbed two fistfuls of hair and tried pulling him off. Jay’s expression never changed, but he did let go long enough to punch her in the face. Suddenly, a cloud of stinging wetness enveloped the three of us, leaving Jay and I screaming and Sue swearing.

I felt Jay being hauled off of me, and hands lifted me from the floor. Through streaming, burning eyes, I saw three guys and Rhonda sitting on Jay. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was crying and yelling, but that might have been because Rhonda was riding him like a bull and smacking his head with her now-empty, crocheted pepper spray carrier. Aside from crazy Rhonda, they had the situation under control.

I let someone lead me to the bathroom, where I joined Sue already at the sink. I was desperate to stick my face under the faucet to let the cool stream run directly over my eyeballs. My lids felt like they were swelling shut, but I vowed to pry them open with my fingers if I had to. Burning acid does not begin to describe the level of pain.

We had a bit of a tussle, because Sue apparently had the same plan. She was meaner, but I was younger and, having been directly in Rhonda’s spray line, infinitely more desperate. Eventually, we took turns in a cup-hands-and-splash rhythm.