Cheated By Death (5 page)

“But I don’t even know her.” Good Lord, what
did the man expect?

“She wants to meet you. How about
tonight?”

“I have to work,” I answered automatically,
anxious to avoid any further entanglements.

“What about tomorrow?”

“I’ll call her later in the week.”

“What’s the matter? Is she not good enough
for you since you live with those Alperts?”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re pushy?” I
asked, trying not to lose my temper.

He frowned, but continued the interrogation.
“Where do you work?”

“I tend bar at The Whole Nine Yards on Main
Street.”

“A sports bar, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s okay.”

Our conversation continued in that vein for a
few more minutes, bantering back and forth like a tennis ball in a
tight match. Soon it became obvious the old man was tiring.

“I’d better get going.” I rose from my seat
and offered him my hand. He shook it, and I had to grit my teeth
against the onslaught of emotions the old man broadcasted. Chief
among them was regret, but I wasn’t sure just what it was he
regretted.

“You’ll come back soon, won’t you?” he asked,
his brown eyes hopeful.

“I’ll call,” I said, making no definite
promises. I headed back for the front of the house, but paused in
the doorway. The old man smiled at me and I was overcome with an
unwelcome guilt I didn’t deserve to own.

Elena saw me to the front door. I could hear
the TV blasting once again.

“You make him very happy, Mister.”

“Is he good to work for?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes good, sometimes bad.
This job won’t last too much longer, I think.”

I nodded. “Thanks for taking care of him,
Elena.”

She smiled and closed the door behind me.

I walked slowly back to my car and got in.
I’d wanted to hate the old man. Instead, I felt pity—for the whole
lousy situation. My mother had loved him, but she’d loved Richard
more. And when my father left, it had nearly destroyed her.

What had she ever seen in Chet Resnick? He
was nothing like Richard’s father, in looks, temperament or social
standing. Maybe she felt she’d married above her class the first
time. Still, a part of me couldn’t help but wish John Alpert had
donated his sperm in my cause.

In that house, in front of the old man, I’d
felt numb. But now I was out of that oppressive atmosphere and my
anger bubbled over. He wanted me to watch out for Patty? What kind
of reality did he live in, anyway? For
years
he’d ignored
me.
Years!
And now he wanted me to be some kind of nursemaid
to the child he
had
cared for? The one who’d had a father
all that time.

Not likely.

I don’t
even remember the drive home,
but eventually I found myself pulling into the driveway. A blue
Altima with Pennsylvania plates sat in my usual spot. Something
about that didn’t feel right.

I headed straight for Richard’s house with an
unexpected sense of urgency. The side door was locked. I took out
my key and opened the door that led to the butler’s pantry.

“Richard?” Brenda called anxiously.

“No, it’s Jeff.”

I came into the kitchen. A black man in a
bulky, dark sweater sat at the kitchen table. His bulging biceps
and thick neck reminded me of a weight lifter. Brenda’s delicate
china cup looked ridiculous in his beefy hand.

“This is Willie Morgan. My ex-husband,”
Brenda said, her voice strained with tension. “Willie, this is my
brother-in-law, Jeffrey Resnick.”

I stood there dumbly until Willie got up, and
offered me his hand. At six three or four, he towered over me. He
probably weighed sixty or eighty pounds more than me, too. I’d
heard how he’d beaten Brenda senseless countless times during their
brief marriage. His size alone was enough to intimidate me. I
didn’t want to touch him—didn’t want him to awaken my heightened
awareness. But courtesy demanded I shake his hand.

Thank God I got nothing.

“Nice to meet you,” he said politely. Knowing
their past history, I expected his voice to be lower, menacing. It
wasn’t.

“Will you stay for coffee?” Brenda asked me
hopefully.

“Sure.” I shrugged out of my jacket, hung it
over the chair and sat down at the round table.

Willie took his seat again.

“I noticed your license plates. What brings
you to Buffalo?” I asked.

“I got a job with the Bisons.”

“Coaching?”

“No, marketing.”

I’d had the impression he worked more
physical jobs. His imposing stature implied the same thing.

“How long has it been since you two have seen
each other?” I tried again.

“Twelve years,” Willie answered easily. “That
was when Brenda moved to California and divorced me.”

Brenda’s mouth was tight; fear shadowed her
eyes. “My mother gave Willie my address. She thought he might want
to look me up.”

Mrs. Stanley hadn’t approved of Brenda living
with Richard, a white man. When Brenda married him, her mother cut
all ties.

Brenda set a cup of coffee and a plate of
chocolate chip cookies on the table before me, but she didn’t take
a seat, instead retreating to the counter.

“Have you found a place to live yet?” I asked
Willie.

“I’m staying at a residence motel. Most
places I’ve looked at won’t be available until the first of the
month. I hope to find something permanent by next week.”

I nodded. Now what could we talk about?

The silence lengthened. Finally Willie pushed
his half-empty cup away. “I guess I’d better be going.”

Brenda forced a smile but said nothing.

“Good luck in your new job,” I said.

“I’ll see if I can get you guys some free
tickets for next season.”

“Sure, thanks.”

Willie got up, shrugged into his Bisons
jacket, and headed for the door. “Nice to meet you.” He looked past
me toward Brenda. “I’ll see you again sometime, Brenda.”

Was that a promise or a threat?

Brenda remained riveted to the counter,
radiating sheer terror. I followed and then closed the door on our
guest.

I returned to the kitchen as Willie’s car
revved to life. Brenda stared at Willie’s now-empty chair for a
long moment.

We watched as the car passed the kitchen
window as it backed out of the drive.

The quiet that followed was unnerving.

“Do you need a hug or something?” I asked
Brenda.

A tear slid down her cheek and she nodded. I
crossed the room in three steps, held her as she clutched me, let
her tears soak into my shirt.

“You didn’t go to the clinic with Rich this
morning.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t feel well. My
stomach’s been upset lately.”

“So Willie picked the one day you’re home
alone to come visit. Are you okay now?”

She nodded. “I’m so glad you showed up. I was
so afraid.”

“Come on, sit down.” I led her to the table.
“What happened?”

“I heard the doorbell, opened the door, and
there he was. He barged right in.”

“He wasn’t overtly threatening,” I said.

“He never was in front of other people.
Believe me, under that quiet veneer lies a monster.”

“Why did you ever marry him?” I blurted—a
stupid question.

“I’m embarrassed to even remember.” She took
a cookie from the plate and nibbled at it. “My sister Ruthie was
his girlfriend.”

“She was killed by a drunk driver,
right?”

She nodded. “We were twins,” she reminded me,
and her eyes filled with tears. “A few months after the accident,
Willie and I started dating. At first, it was wonderful. He treated
me like a queen. It was a whirlwind courtship. I was still in
nursing school, but we got married anyway, for all the wrong—and
obvious—reasons. It didn’t take long for him to realize that I
wasn’t Ruth. He had loved
her
. And although we were twins, I
wasn’t
her
. Nothing I could do was ever right. It was like a
nightmare when he lost his job and I was supporting us.”

“And your mother would still prefer you to be
with him?”

“He’s the right color, if nothing else.” She
got up to pour herself more coffee, but the pot held only dregs.
“Do you want another cup?”

“Sure.” I glanced at the clock on the wall;
it was almost lunchtime.

“Richard said he’d come home at noon. Do you
want to stay?” she asked hopefully.

She was giving off weird vibes—still afraid,
even though the object of her fear had departed. “Sure.”

“Thanks,” she said, relieved, and busied
herself by getting a new filter for the pot and measuring the
coffee.

“What did you guys talk about?” I asked.

“
He
talked—about the good old days.
About the church where we got married. He said he still has the
pictures. It gave me the creeps. I don’t want to remember those
times.”

“How long was he here before I arrived?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

“What do you think he wants?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

The coffee was almost ready when Richard’s
car pulled up. He came in, saw me sitting at the table then glanced
over at Brenda, and took in her troubled face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Now,” she said.

Richard looked at me as he took off his coat,
draping it on the back of a chair.

“Brenda had a visitor,” I said.

His wary gaze traveled back to her.

“It was Willie. My mother gave him our
address.”

“And you let him in the house?” Richard
yelled, quite uncharacteristically.

“Hey. It’s cool. I was here.”

“Right when he got here?” Richard
demanded.

“No. Just after.”

“No offense, Jeff, but from what I heard,
you’re just some little pipsqueak compared to this guy—he’s like a
linebacker. Right?”

“I wasn’t in any danger,” Brenda said.

“Oh, yeah? How many times did he hit you? How
many bones did he break?”

I looked at Brenda, my stomach turning. She
stared at the floor, on the verge of tears. “Please don’t raise
your voice, Richard. You sound just like
he
used to.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just . . . .” He moved to
stand beside her, put his arm around her, and spoke gently. “I get
so angry thinking about how he hurt you.”

She looked up at him and Richard bent down to
kiss her. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Jeffy was great. He ran
interference for me.”

Richard looked over at me and I shrugged. “I
don’t do so bad. For a pipsqueak.”

Brenda cleared her throat. “Who wants tuna
for lunch?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, grateful to
change the subject.

Brenda headed for the butler’s pantry and
Richard took a seat at the table, his voice low. “We’ll drop this
for now, but I want a full report later.”

“I’m working tonight.”

“Then I’ll stop by the bar on my way home
from the clinic.”

“Suit yourself.”

Brenda came back with a large can in hand.
“Lunch will be ready in a few minutes.”

Tension still filled that kitchen. Somehow I
felt like
I
had done something wrong. I hadn’t planned on
mentioning my earlier adventure, but it seemed like a good
distraction.

“I went to see my father this morning.”

They both looked at me in wide-eyed surprise.
“Great,” Brenda said cheerfully, no doubt grateful for a change of
subject. “That’s great.”

“Why?”

“Because you need family. Everyone needs
their family.”

“I have you guys. I have Maggie.” What I
wanted to say was,
I don’t need any more
.

“How’d it go?” Richard asked, his tone
neutral.

I shrugged. “He’s a sick old man.” I stared
at the tabletop for a long moment. “It turns out I have a
half-sister, Patty. She was at work.”

“That’s terrific,” Brenda said. Her
enthusiasm seemed strained. “When will you meet her?”

“I don’t know. I’m not in a hurry.”

She looked puzzled. “Why?”

“It’s all happening too fast. I need time to
get used to all of this.”

“Don’t take too long. At least, not if you
want to get to know Chet. He hasn’t got long.” The quiet was
ominous. Richard stared me straight in the eye. “I mean it, Jeff,
he doesn’t have much more time.”

CHAPTER

4

As promised, Richard stopped at the bar on
his way home from the clinic that night. A lot of neighborhood
regulars had dropped in for a few beers before heading home—not a
good time for me to chat. I bought Richard a drink and he hung
around until there was a lull in the action.

I noticed his glass was empty. “Can I get you
another?”

“No. What did you get from Willie?”

So much for small talk. “Not a vibration, not
a funny feeling. Nothing. In fact, he was kind of subdued. I know
Brenda was afraid, but I get the feeling it’ll be okay now.”

“No, it won’t. She’s—” He stopped himself.
“She’s still pretty upset about it.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Maybe
you’re right. Just thinking about her ex gets Maggie going. I’m the
same about mine. You get the gold star as the only one of us
without a failed marriage.”

Richard’s blue-eyed gaze bore into me. “I’ll
take that as a compliment.”

A couple of women came in and I had to get
back to work. Looking grim, Richard gave me a half-hearted wave and
headed for the door, looking as gloomy as when he’d arrived.

The happy hour crowd was long gone by nine
o’clock. The place was dead, and Tom was about to let me leave when
the phone rang.

“It’s for you, Jeff.”

I frowned. Maggie seldom called me at work,
and since Richard had already dropped in, it wasn’t likely to be
him. “Hello?”

“Jeffrey? It’s Patty.”

Oh, wonderful.

“Hi. How’d you get this number?”