Flesh And Blood

She wiggled back into her shirt and sweater, spread her legs – not enticingly, a combat stance – and shot me the finger. “He thinks he’s so smart.”

Putting me in third person. The grammar was more than symbolic, and I knew more was wrong than my failure to meet her sexual demands.

An audience. Before I could put the threat in place, figure out what to do, a man emerged from the shadows at the other end of the pier. Approached us.

Cheryl turned her back and walked toward him. He was barely visible because, unlike her, he’d dressed for concealment.

Black sweatsuit, black shoes. He and Cheryl met in the center of the pier. Everything rehearsed – I’d been the only one ad-libbing.

“He thinks he’s smart,” said Cheryl.

Kent Irving said nothing. His brassy hair had been tied back in a ponytail, emphasizing the breadth of his round, ruddy face. Impassive face. Something silvery and reflective in his right hand.

Cheryl flashed teeth and tucked her white T-shirt tight.

“Baby,” she said.

Irving’s one-lipped mouth stayed shut.

“It’s good you came when you did, baby,” she told him. “He was ready to fuck me blind, would’ve raped me and tossed me over the edge.”

She kissed his ear. Irving still didn’t react. He stepped closer. I had nowhere to go but into eternity, but I stepped backward anyway. The automatic in his hand was level with my face.

“He thinks we’re stupid, baby,” said Cheryl. “Thinks he can just happen to be boating by, just happen to be sitting there doing his crossword puzzle like it’s some big fucking coincidence and we’re not gonna suspect anything. Asshole.”

I said, “Suspicion’s a two-way street. The police know I’m here.”

She said, “Right.” Irving remained silent and still. How far was the drop? How high was the tide? Would I hit water or slam into hard-packed sand, collapsing my spine like a twig? If I could calculate the drop in the darkness, would rolling on my side help, allow me to escape with only crushed ribs, internal injuries? I hadn’t consulted a tide chart, had no reason to, terrific planning -

Kent Irving walked some more, and I stood my ground. The barrel of the gun was ten feet away. Chromium lips and a tiny black mouth that said, “Oh.”

Cheryl stayed behind Irving, yammering, showing all those teeth, tossing her goddamned hair -

“Enough,” Irving told her, in that thin, high voice.

She pouted. “Sure, baby – you saved me, baby. He was an animal, would’ve rammed me without mercy, just used me and threw me away.” She placed a hand on his meaty shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah, baby, so you saved me. You’re gonna be happy you did.”

“You really think it’s happy days?” I said. “The police really do know I’m here. Meeting you, Cheryl. He can’t afford that. You’re expendable – just like Baxter and Sage-”

“Enough,” Irving said, softly. Same word he’d used with Cheryl. The lack of inflection said it all.

No sweat, no strain. Eyes as animated as gravel. Business as usual.

Maybe he’d hired someone to shoot Lauren and Michelle and Lance and Jane, but if he had, it had been out of convenience, not apprehension. He could pull that trigger like brushing his teeth. Eat breakfast moments later without giving it a second thought.

I said, “You know I’m right, Kent. You can’t chance her talking to the police. Sooner or later, she’s got to go anyway. She’s stupid and nuts and undependable. Actually thinks you’ll leave Anita for her and the two of you will end up with all of Tony’s money and live happily ever after, the Prince and Princess. You know better. She’s no princess, you’ve had dozens like her. Just another stupid hooker with plastic tits-”

Cheryl charged toward me, but Irving blocked her with his free arm.

“Fuck you!” she shrieked. “Fuck you in hell – Don’t let him talk to me like that, baby. He can’t dis me like that – don’t fucking let him!”

Pushing against Irving’s arm. He closed his hand on her wrist. The gun arm had never wavered. If he’d blinked I hadn’t seen it. Giving him a polygraph would be academically interesting.

Cheryl said, “Give me the gun and let me do him – I can do it, you know I can. I’ll do it right now, just like I did her, come on.”

“Her,” I said. “Lauren or Michelle or Jane or Shawna?”

The last name caused Irving’s eyes to wander for the tiniest fragment of a second. Uncertainty. Lack of familiarity.

“Bitch Lauren,” said Cheryl, smugly. She spat on the pier. “Cunt Lauren. She thought she could be my friend. Thought we had rapport, that I was just like her-”

“She had a point,” I said. “You both sold sex-”

“Fuck you!”

“Quiet,” said Irving. His hand was still clamped to her wrist. Something he did made her say, “Ouch.”

Then: “Baby?”

“Hurts so good?” I said. “What a fun couple. So how’d you lure Lauren?”

“Art,” said Cheryl, making it sound like a disease. “She thought she was so cool – we made a date to meet at the art museum and then-”

A twist of Irving’s wrist shut her mouth. “Easy,” he soothed.

“He’s the boss, got you to set up Lauren, then do her,” I said. “With a woman she’d let down her guard – two girls and pretty pictures. She’d already told you her secret – Tell me, did you watch while he hog-tied her? Did you help him toss her in the trash?”

“It was great-”

Irving rotated his hand again, and she cried out.

I said, “You’re toast, Cheryl. Maybe it won’t happen tonight, but don’t make any long-term investments. Even if you weren’t stupid and unpredictable, you wouldn’t figure into his plans, because your kids are a problem. Think about that gas leak – What’s the next installment, Kent? Tossing Baxter over the cliff? Then Sage happens to toddle over to the pool? Or maybe you’ll just disappear them in the ocean.”

Irving smiled. Cheryl never saw it, but his silence made her eyes go wide and scared.

“Maybe I will let you do him,” he told her.

“Creative,” I said. “Her prints get on the gun, then a bullet finds its way into her head – murder-suicide, lovers’ quarrel out on the pier. You’re an old hand at that kind of thing – took Lauren’s gun out of her purse after Cheryl shot her and used it a week later on Jane Abbot. Setting the old man up. How’d you get Lauren alone for the kill, Cheryl?”

“Girl talk, asshole-”

“Shh,” said Irving. “No more dialogue – Yeah, I will let you do him.”

“Lots of bodies piling up,” I said. “At least it’s not one of those senseless crime sprees. You’ve got a definite goal in mind. Tony’ll be dead soon, and what he leaves behind is sure worth working for. You’re doing Ben and Anita’s dirty work, and maybe they’ll even let you stick around to enjoy the windfall. But you never know – the rich can get funny with hired help.”

Irving didn’t move.

Cheryl said, “Baby?” very softly. “You do love them, right? Bax and Sage?”

“Sure,” said Irving.

“He’s capable of love like you’re qualified to be a nuclear physicist,” I said. “He’ll love them as two cute little corpses. No way will they make it to first grade. Baby. You sure are a great mom. Baby.”

Cheryl raised clenched fists. “Shut up! Gimme it, let me do him now!”

Irving didn’t budge.

“Ke-ent!” she whined.

“Okay, c’mere,” said Irving.

He removed his hand from her wrist, and as she stepped forward lowered his arm and circled her waist.