“You and Danny were like chalk and cheese,” she said. “Opposite characters in almost every way.”
Eddie stared at her. Didn’t say anything.
Though she had just put it away, Abbie removed the Leona sheet from her pocket and opened it once more. She stared at the latest row.
“I was helping your wife look for some comfortable trousers this morning,” she said. “When I was looking for you. She had me look in that box at the bottom of the wardrobe. I had to dig right to the bottom, but there were no trousers. Know what I did find?”
Eddie did know. Obviously, he knew. He shook his head.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” said Abbie. “A horrible piece of yellow lingerie which Jess claimed you bought for her.”
Still, Eddie said nothing, though it was too late to plead the fifth. Abbie showed the father-to-be the list; placed her thumb below the word yellow in the lingerie colour column beside the name Dean.
“You and Danny were chalk and cheese,” said Abbie. “Is it possible one interest you shared was lingerie colour?”
Eddie could have agreed. Could have lied to try and cover his tracks. Instead, he bowed his head, looked to his lap.
“Didn’t think so,” said Abbie. “There’s a reason you had a key to Leona’s place, and it isn’t because Danny gave it to you. Isn’t that right, Ed? The name DEAN on this list: tell me who it refers to. Tell me, please, because I need to hear you say it.”
She thought now the fight might come. Like a dying animal, Eddie might find one last bout of strength and deny it all. Instead, he started to cry. He didn’t say a word.
“You were sleeping with Leona,” said Abbie. “Perhaps she meant to con you. Perhaps you were special. Perhaps she meant to con you, then you became special. It’s hard to say. I don’t think you were desperate for cash or a reliable thief, as was Danny, so maybe she took a shine to you. Not that it kept you off her little list.”
Abbie waved said list, then pocketed it. Eddie continued to sob.
“Whatever the case, Danny discovered your affair. He was a troublemaker, but he respected you. When he found out you were cheating, he was horrified. I guess he threatened to out you to Jess. So what do you do? In a panic, you speak with Leona, and what does she suggest? That you dangle before Danny the chance to become a hundred grand richer. Once he’d robbed Francis, Leona would steal back the money. You would warn Danny that Francis was hot on his heels, that the only way he could escape retribution would be to flee town. At this point, it didn’t matter if Danny knew you’d tricked him or not. Francis would still be after him. He would still have to run. You would miss your brother, but at least your dirty little secret would be safe. That was the main thing, right?”
Eddie put his head in his hands. Whatever. Abbie had no strength to feel pity for him. Not after everything he’d done.
“Why Danny was fool enough to listen to you and rob Francis when you had every reason to betray him, I can’t fathom. Hundred grand is a lot of money. Maybe his greed got the better of him. Whatever the case, he did it. The plan went perfectly,” she said. “Until Danny came back, and until I told you Leona was pregnant. Now you’re stuck with a dead brother and two babies on the way. Although I guess you’re all set to reject baby number two. And Danny’s death means your secret is safe, after all. Hey, so in a way, his death means the plan worked even—“
“Don’t.”
Eddie’s hands whipped away from his face. He was almost panting. There was white-hot fury in his eyes. Abbie’s face remained devoid of compassion.
“I would do anything to bring my brother back,” said Eddie. “Nothing is worth his death. Nothing.”
Abbie gave him a couple of seconds to take deep breaths. Leaning into the back of the car, she collected the bag of money.
“Well, he is dead,” she said. “I don’t know who did it, but I know it’s your fault. You’ll have to live with that, just like you’ll have to live with how you’ve betrayed your wife and how you’ve got another kid out there, being raised by a monster. Or possibly in care if the police can tie Travis’ murder to Leona. That’s all on your conscience.”
They sat in silence for a while. After thirty seconds or so, Abbie opened the door.
“What are you doing?” said Eddie.
“Leaving. I don’t need a ride. I can find my own way.”
As she stepped from the car, Eddie said, “Are you going to tell Jess?”
Abbie paused on the curb, closed her eyes. After a second or two, she threw the money bag over her shoulder, over her drawstring bag, then turned and looked back into the car.
“You make me sick, Eddie,” she said. “Now go home to your wife, and pray I never see you again.”
She slammed the door and turned away. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to scream.
Almost, she was done with this town—first, a couple more people to see.
She prayed they were more deserving of her time than had Eddie been.
Thirty-Two
By the time Abbie reached her destination, the sun was dipping below the horizon. Soon, darkness would reign.
Knocking on the door, Abbie took a step back and waited. Almost a minute later, there was the scrape and jangle of a retracted chain, and the door swung open.
“What is it?” The woman asked. Hardly correct door opening etiquette, but then again, Abbie did stink of whiskey.
“Hello. You must be Nell, Michael’s mother?”
This was based on the knowledge that Michael lived with his mother and that his grandmother was dead. Having given birth in her teens, Nell could only be a year or
