She disappeared down the hall.
Jessica heard the sound of a toilet flushing.
Dinah came back in, picked up the dishrag and mini vodka bottle. “OK, enough of that. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“You don’t have to do this, Blondie.”
“At this point in any mad rampage, I pretty much have to.”
“Of course you have to do this,” Jessica rolled her eyes. The very act brought gray swirls to her vision. “No choice, I get it. But you don’t have to drug me. I’m talking straight self-preservation here. I could overdose. I could die. What if I just woke up and went with it all? What if you just trusted me?”
Dinah put the bottle down on the coffee table.
Laid the dishrag alongside and perched on the edge.
Broke out with a kind smile, the same one that had anchored Jessica to every day for the past three years. The real Dinah, the true surrogate who had carried her from the gates of hell, saved her from annihilation just to bring her right back.
“Sad thing is, Jess…” Dinah sighed. “You’re not really lying. You know what I’m going through. Anger’s like a drug. It releases hormones, pheromones. Goddamn saxophones, right. I know there’s a side of you that never left. The raging alcoholic. The pissed off, frustrated young woman from Louisville. See, I know…” Dinah tapped Jessica’s temple with her fingers, each rap sending a thunderous pain through her skull. “I know there’s a part of you that’s psyched to be a part of this. Think about it. Our names cleared. An end to this whole affair, and who do we have on the hook?”
“Eli Messner.”
“Or Arnold Brennan, whoever the hell he was in the past. Some slimy, disgusting sex offender behind bars. Maybe not sentenced to fry, but gone. Locked up forever, Jessica. I know there’s a part of you that sees the beauty of it all. Can you look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong?”
Jessica didn’t need to look her in the eye to let her know she was right.
A muted nod was all it took.
Arms and legs growing numb.
“But there is that other part of you I’m stuck dealing with…” Dinah sighed, pulling at her hair. Blond curls bouncing as they released themselves from between her fingers. “Tonight. I know you had the chance. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to teach Jerome Keanen, Mr. Daedalus himself, a real lesson. Angry Jonny style. And that other part of you simply… failed. Choked. Gave it all up for reasons that are just beyond me.”
Jessica’s shouldn’t have been surprised by anything at this point.
Dinah’s apologetic frown suggested as much. “I’ve been reading your journal. It’s done nothing but help me, you can bet that much. I was knocked down. Bowled over by your plan, Jessica. So goddamn brilliant. Come tomorrow, the cops would’ve found his body. And all it would turn out to be is just another horrible misunderstanding. Here they were, guarding you with their lives, when all the while Angry Jonny was planning on taking care of an evil land developer…” Dinah laughed, then quickly remembered how it had all played out. “But you didn’t do it, did you?”
Jessica didn’t answer.
“You didn’t, Jess…” Dinah stood, kissed Jessica’s forehead. “I can see it in your eyes. And that’s the other part of you. The one I just can’t trust to do the right thing.”
The walls were closing in.
Time running down to zero as Dinah stood, picking up the dish rag and chloroform.
“How’d you pull off Dr. Lazenby?” Jessica blurted out. “Independence Day. How the hell –”
“We’re done talking,” Dinah said, opening the door.
“Blondie, please…” Jessica managed to squeeze out one last second. Got Dinah to turn before heading into the hallway. “Forget justice. Forget judgment. Just, please, tell me. That night you were standing in Jason Castle’s house. Not even knowing what you were doing there. You can’t tell me that didn’t set the stage for every night this summer… Come on, now…” Jessica’s voice had been filed down to a whisper. “Why did you do it. Really?”
“What do you want from me, Jessica?” Dinah shrugged, spelling it out with slow, deliberate words. “I… Was… Angry.”
Dinah stepped out into the hall, closed the door.
Jessica began to thrash around in her chair.
A dying fish stuck to the bottom of a rowboat.
One kick.
Two kicks.
Three kicks against the door before the wood splintered.
Burst open.
And there was Dinah standing in the doorway. Bottle in one hand, dishrag in the other.
“Can’t wait for you to wake up,” she said, smiling. Eyes alight with what could only be described as, inexplicable, pure, incendiary love. “I’ve got some amazing things to tell you.”
In a cold instant, Dinah had the dishrag pressed against Jessica’s face.
Jessica didn’t even know why she was still fighting, but something refused to let go so easily. Jerking her head from side to side, unwilling to let Dinah clamp down.
And then, they both stopped.
Momentarily distracted by the sound of the kitchen door swinging open.
The sound of someone running down the hall, all questions answered in the form of Eli Messner.
Spare key clenched in his fist.
Green eyes taking in the whole scene, trembling with fury. “Read the papers today, Dinah?”
“Well, well…” Dinah declared, grabbing a fistful of Jessica’s hair. “This is actually far more convenient than I could have ever planned.”
Eli sprinted across the room.
Dinah let out the bloodcurdling scream she had promised and met him head on.
Jessica watched from her prison cell as the two of them spilled onto the floor. Felt her wrists slowly coming loose, adhesive losing its battle to Jessica’s sweat-soaked body.
Eli and Dinah went rolling against the coffee table. A mess of arms and legs, cries and muted grunts that could’ve easily been mistaken for a round of rough sex. Didn’t matter. Any moment now, someone would have to come running out from their apartment to find…
… To find what, exactly?
The very same question must have passed through Chaucer’s mind when he appeared in the doorway.
Steel-plated Colt held in both hands, ordering everyone to fucking hold it!
Dinah shot up from the ground, bursting into tears.
Eli, not so quick on the draw. Stuck to the floor, reaching up to grab hold of whatever he could.
“Oh, thank God, Chaucer!” Dinah sobbed, backing up against the windowsill. Half sitting on the radiator. Tears flowing freely. “He just burst in here. I think he was… I think he was…”
“No…” Eli managed to stand up, stumble to his feet. “She’s lying. I just got here, it was her –”
“Hold it right there, son,” Chaucer warned, drawing his sights on Eli.
“He broke in here, he tried to kill us both!” Dinah cried.
“She’s lying, Braswell!” Eli yelled. “It was her all long. She’s the one!”
“Shut up or I will destroy every last one of you,” Chaucer barked.
Eli turned to Jessica. “Tell him! Tell him what happened!”
“Tell him what happened, Jessica!” Dinah cried, eyes enveloping the better half of her face. “This is it, right now!”
“Jessica –”
“Tell him right now!” Dinah screamed. “Tell him! Tell him what he did to us, this fucking pervert! Tell him what he did, you ungrateful bitch, I’ve been like a mother to you!”
There was no avoiding it.
One of them was going to jail that night.
“It was Dinah,” she said flatly. “It’s always been Dinah.”
There wasn’t a person in the room, Eli included, who had been expecting Jessica to say that.
Chaucer took another step into the room, trained his gun on Dinah.
“Ah, hell,” Dinah said. Something inside
of her collapsed, face aging a thousand years. “Fuck all of you.”
Jessica closed her eyes as Dinah rushed Chaucer.
Expecting to hear a gunshot, bullet ripping through Dinah’s heart.
Instead, she heard Dinah’s body falling to the ground.
But the gunshot never came.
When Jessica opened her eyes, she saw Chaucer dragging Dinah across the room. Kicking and screaming, Gash on her forehead. Gun holstered, he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and fastened her to the radiator.
Dinah continued to scream, practically speaking in tongues.
The vile, guttural sounds of demon possession.
Chaucer glanced up at Eli.
Eli nodded, handed Chaucer the bottle of chloroform and the dishrag.
Seconds later, it was over.
Dinah slumped on the floor.
Arms raised above her head, metallic jewelry cutting into her wrists.
Chaucer plopped himself down alongside her. Resting his back against the radiator. Chest heaving, he motioned towards Eli. “Where you been hiding?”
“Been spending my days with a beagle named Mega Weapon.”
“Well you’d better get back to him, son. Right now.”
Eli shook his head. “I need to tell her –”
“I know all about what they did to you,” Chaucer said. “I’ll tell her everything. Come find you and we’ll get you out of this town...” he dug into his pocket and tossed his money clip on the floor. “Got a couple hundred dollars there. Just go. Go now. You’ve got maybe five seconds.”
Eli didn’t hesitate.
He scooped up the cash, stuffed it in his pocket.
Turned to Jessica, eyes wet with tears.
Then Eli ran out of the room. Down the hallway and out the back door.
Jessica felt herself fading from existence. “You sure took your sweet time.”
“Shit, girl…” Chaucer shook his head. “Told me to look after Dinah until you called to say otherwise…”
One of the neighbors finally poked through the busted front door.
Jessica could hear her brain demanding laughter.
Those wide eyes. Horrified expression all covered in an oversized bathrobe.
“Call the police…” Chaucer ordered, scrounging for the last remaining notes of authority. “Tell them we’ve got Angry Jonny.”
The Good Samaritan took off, feet flying down the steps.
“You going to get me out of this chair?” Jessica asked. Upper lip losing its stiff streak, tongue melting. “Or you just gonna sit there with your thumb up your ass?”
Chaucer laughed.
He crawled over and began to wrestle with the tape. “I followed Dinah back here. Parked out front. After a while, thought I saw someone sneaking around back. Came to investigate and…” He freed Jessica’s left leg, wrist flapping as he tried to rid himself of the sticky adhesive… “And I saw Dinah throwing some shit in the trash. So I went dumpster-diving. Old habits…” There went the right leg. He set to work on her wrists, all those cigarettes resurrected in a painful wheeze… “Then I heard the scream. Came running. Found you here, and Dinah and –”
“Chaucer?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“I just don’t care that much anymore.”
Her wrists were free now.
Jessica felt herself falling.
Falling into Chaucer’s arms.
Room running on carousel batteries as she closed her eyes.
Falling asleep for good this time.
EPILOGUE
August 31
“It’s not too late to turn back.”
Nobody there to hear it this time.
Jessica stared through the towering windows, peering past her reflection and into those old battlegrounds. She could just make out the tables. Scattered wait staff laying down the silverware and folded napkins. Empty chairs tucked beneath the bar. The neverending dance that came with setting up first shift.
Shouldering her book bag, Jessica opened the door and stepped into Spiro’s.
There were only a few familiar faces to be found. Turnover rates for food service appeared to be one of the few things unaffected by the recession. Jessica wandered into the middle of the room. She stopped by table thirteen, absently stroked the tablecloth. The waiters and waitresses exchanged harried, caffeinated looks. Each one waiting for someone else to inform her that they didn’t open till eleven-thirty.
Before she could ask, Jessica heard a familiar voice calling from the bar.
“If it isn’t Jessica Kincaid.”
Guy motioned for her to come over and grab a seat.
Same carefully maintained facial hair adorning a slick, winner-take-all face.
It appeared there was a bit of clockwork left in the universe after all.
Jessica sat herself at the bar. “How you been, Guy?”
Guy scooped some ice into a pint glass. “I’d ask the same, but I’m a little afraid of you.”
“Yeah.” She smiled weakly. “ `Case you’re worried, I’m not here to ask for my job back.”
“In case you were wondering, we’d be happy to have you back.”
He pumped some tonic, placed the glass in front of Jessica.
“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I’m not sure I get it.”
“I just wanted say…” Jessica took a sip of tonic water, felt the bubbles burn in her throat. “I just wanted to tell you that I wouldn’t come back to work at this dump if you paid me.”
Guy’s smile hit a speed bump. “Well, technically, we would kind of have to pay you.”
“What I’m trying to say is… I just don’t understand you. I don’t understand much of anything. I don’t get what would make a person want to be a manager. Or a doctor, or a teacher. Venture capitalist, small business owner. And that’s my problem, no one else’s…” Jessica’s hands tightened around her drink. “And even though I don’t really get what I’m doing here either, I just wanted to say that it’s not your fault I can’t stand you.”
“Well…” Guy tried on a couple of different smiles. Set his lips to neutral. “Thanks, I guess.”
No, he didn’t get it either.
“Well, it looks like I’m going to have to work on my delivery…” Jessica drained her tonic in a single pull. “I should get going.”
“What’s next for you?”
“Moving guys are coming to my apartment at one.”
“Yeah? Where you headed?”
“To see a detective about a car.” Jessica hopped down from her seat. Picked up her book bag and sent a respectful nod in Guy’s direction. “Have a good one.”
“Yeah, you too…”
Without a single sentimental song in her heart, Jessica walked on to her next destination.
Several steps remaining, no doubt about it.
***
Detective Donahue drove Jessica out to the impound lot.
He parked by the courthouse, no need to put money in the meter. The two of them walked around the building and headed down a long set of steps leading to a tall, chain-link fence. Coils of barbed wire snaked around the top. The back entrance was tended by a lone security guard, sitting in a tiny booth, leafing through a used paperback.
Donahue handed him a slip of paper.
The guard signed, handed Jessica her own form.
She signed off, got a yellow carbon copy for her troubles.
The sun beat down on the car lot of deviant vehicles. Donahue took random lefts and rights, unashamed to admit he didn’t know where he was headed.
“Not like that piece-of-shit Mustang should be so hard to find,” he added.
“That car’s a classic, Detective.”
“Classic piece of shit…” He loosened his tie, wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. “The only reason we’re giving it back is because we’re too embarrassed to put it on auction.”
Jessic
a pointed two rows down, where the mustang’s faded hood poked out a good foot past the rest. Its massive front bumper gleamed brightly between patches of rust. She ran her hand over the roof, memories burning her palm. The same ungainly boat that had driven her to school every morning for the past three years.
“Guess this is it,” Donahue said.
“So you really are a detective.”
“I’ll be sure to put that in my report.”
“Seems like only yesterday…”
Donahue nodded. He glanced around, as though looking for an excuse to stick around. Scratched his nose, rapped his knuckles on the trunk.
Jessica leaned against the car, thought she’d throw him a bone. “What’s the word on Malik?”
“Oh, yeah, him,” Donahue said casually. “We’re going to let him stay under doctor’s supervision until the arraignment. District Attorney has agreed to three years’ supervised probation… if you still feel like vouching for the guy who tried to kill you.”
“You love your mother?”
“My mother’s a saint, lady.”
“So, yeah. Malik loves Patty, and I still got his back.”
Donahue joined her by the car. “You seem to be… I don’t know, displaying a certain amount of forgiveness.”
“I don’t want to talk about it…”
The detective let it slide. “There is still something I have to ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“You heard from Arnold Brennan?”
“You mean Eli Messner.”
“I mean Arnold Brennan.”
“I don’t know no Arnold Brennan.” Jessica shook her head. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Let’s get something straight…” Donahue switched his seat to the car parked next to them. An Oldsmobile low-rider painted some hideous shade of green. “That kind of talk is fine as long as it’s just you and me.”
“It’s fine no matter what.”
“We let a wanted sex offender slip through our fingers. What am I supposed to tell the media about that?”
“How about the truth?” Jessica crossed her arms, stared down at her sneakers. “How about telling people that Eli was just a victim of circumstance? That he was unfairly prosecuted, and didn’t deserve what happened to him?”
“Yeah, you want to know why America has the harshest sex offender laws of any rich nation? It’s because there’s always a politician looking to look tough. And to look tough, you’ve got to go one step ahead of whatever laws are already in place. And anyone running against this politician isn’t going to risk looking weak by comparison… What makes you think I’ve got any more leeway than those poor bastards?”