If I died, he’d have all he needed.
Debbie was married and expecting a child. First she’d lived with another young man, one of whom I hadn’t approved, and then she’d married Scott, who was hard-working and earnest and ambitious. Was the marriage bad for her, and did she blame me for costing her the other boy? Or did Scott’s ambition prompt him to make Debbie an heiress?
These were painful thoughts.
Someone else? But who and why?
Some days ago I’d cut off another motorist at a traffic circle. I remembered the sound of his horn, his face glimpsed in my rearview mirror, red, ferocious. Had he copied down my license plate, determined my address, lain in ambush to gun me down?
It made no sense. But it did not make sense for anyone to kill me.
Julia? Monty? Peg? Mark? Debbie? Scott?
A stranger?
I lay there wondering and did not truly care. Someone had killed me and I was supposed to be dead. But I was not permitted to be dead until I knew the answer to the question.
Maybe the police would find it for me.
They didn’t.
I saw two policemen the following day. I was still in intensive care, still denied visitors, but an exception was made for the police. They were very courteous and spoke in hushed voices. They had no leads whatsoever in their investigation and just wanted to know if I could suggest a single possible suspect.
I told them I couldn’t.
My nurse turned white as paper.
“You’re not supposed to be out of bed! You’re not even supposed to move! What do you think you’re doing?”
I was up and dressed. There was no pain. As an experiment, I’d been palming the pain pills they issued me every four hours, hiding them in the bedclothes instead of swallowing them. As I’d anticipated, I did not feel any pain.
The area of the wound was numb, as though that part of me had been excised altogether. But nothing hurt. I could feel the slug that was still in me and could tell that it remained in position. It did not hurt me, however.
She went on jabbering away at me. I remembered the picture of my life and avoided giving her a sharp answer.
“I’m going home,” I said.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“You have no authority over me,” I told her. “I’m legally entitled to take responsibility for my own life.”
“For your own death, you mean.”
“If it comes to that. You can’t hold me here against my will. You can’t operate on me without my consent.”
“If you don’t have that operation, you’ll die.”
“Everyone dies.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, and her eyes were wide and filled with sorrow, and my heart went out to her.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said gently. “I know what I’m doing. And there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“They wouldn’t even let me see you,” Julia was saying. “And now you’re home.”
“It was a fast recovery.”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“The exercise is supposed to be good for me,” I said. I looked at her, and for a moment I saw her as she’d appeared in parts of the picture of my life. As a bride. As a young mother.
“You know, you’re a beautiful woman,” I said.
She colored.
“I suppose we got married too young,” I said. “We each had a lot of growing to do. And the business took too much of my time over the years. And I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good husband.”
“You weren’t so bad.”
“I’m glad we got married,” I said. “And I’m glad we stayed together. And that you were here for me to come home to.”
She started to cry. I held her until she stopped. Then, her face to my chest, she said, “At the hospital, waiting, I realized for the first time what it would mean for me to lose you. I thought we’d stopped loving each other a long time ago. I know you’ve had other women. For that matter, I’ve had lovers from time to time. I don’t know if you knew that.”
“It’s not important.”
“No,” she said, “it’s not important. I’m glad we got married, darling. And I’m glad you’re going to be all right.”
Monty said, “You had everybody worried there, kid. But what do you think you’re doing down here? You’re supposed to be home in bed.”
“I’m supposed to get exercise. Besides, if I don’t come down here how do I know you won’t steal the firm into bankruptcy?”
My tone was light, but he flushed deeply. “You just hit a nerve,” he said.
“What’s the matter?”
“When they were busy cutting the bullet out of you, all I could think was you’d die thinking I was a thief.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He lowered his eyes. “I was borrowing partnership funds,” he said. “I was in a bind because of my own stupidity and I didn’t want to admit it to you, so I dipped into the till. It was a temporary thing, a case of the shorts. I got everything straightened out before that clown took a shot at you. They know who it was yet?”
“Not yet.”
“The night before you were shot, I stayed late and covered things. I wasn’t going to say anything, and then I wondered if you’d been suspicious, and I decided I’d tell you about it first thing in the morning. Then it looked as though I wasn’t going to get the chance. You didn’t suspect anything?”
“I thought our cash position was light. But after all these years I certainly wasn’t afraid of you stealing from me.”
“All those years,” he echoed, and I was seeing the picture of my life again. All the work Monty and I had put in side by side. The laughs we’d shared, the bad times we’d survived.
We looked at each other, and a great deal of feeling passed between us. Then he drew a breath and clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, that’s enough about old times,” he said gruffly. “Somebody’s got to do a little work around here.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Peg said. “I couldn’t even go to the hospital. All I could do was call every hour and ask anonymously for a report on your condition. Critical condition, that’s what they said. Over and over.”
“It must have been rough.”
“It did something to me and for me,” she said. “It made me realize that I’ve cheated myself out of a life. And I was the one who did it. You didn’t do it to me.”
“I told you I’d leave Julia.”
“Oh, that was just a game we both played. I never really expected you to leave her. No, it’s been my fault, dear. I settled into a nice secure life. But when you were on the critical list I decided my life was on the critical list, too, and that it was time I took some responsibility for it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it’s good you came over tonight and not this afternoon, because you wouldn’t have found me at home. I’ve got a job. It’s not much, but it’s enough to pay the rent. You see, I’ve decided it’s time I started paying my own rent. In the fall I’ll start night classes at the university.”
“I see.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Angry? I’m happy for you.”
“I don’t regret what we’ve been to each other. I was a lost little girl with a screwed-up life and you made me feel loved and cared for. But I’m a big girl now. I’ll still see you, if you want to see me, but from here on in I pay my own way.”
“No more checks?”