Coaster (9 page)

"Okay. Thanks, Tony." La Rosa moved toward the man and realized as she got closer that it was Roger Merit. He didn't look like she'd ever seen him. He was dressed in a suit and his hair was slicked back. He was dozing and she realized he was a very handsome man. She stepped forward and cleared her throat. He didn't stir. She touched his arm and he startled awake.

"Mr. Merit?" She asked quietly.

Roger shook his head and his hair shifted falling across his face. He seemed to stop and figure out where he was. He looked at her and a small smile began on his face. "Hey. Hi. I'm sorry to look like I'm stalking you, but I need your help."

La Rosa smiled.
"Are you stalking me?"

"No." He chuckled. "No. T
rust me that's not my M.O. Actually, I'm pretty much the opposite of a stalker. Ask my ex-wife."

La Rosa smiled. "That's good to know. But Mr. Merit, why are you here?"

"I need your help." He stood up.

La Rosa was struck by how much taller than her he was. She was used to this phenomenon
because she was petite, but in his suit Roger Merit was a bit disconcerting. She stepped back and said, "How can I help you?"

"I spent today with a high-priced attorney downtown. My ex-wife works at the practice and she referred me to him. He was pretty honest with me about my situation. Told me that basically, no attorney worth his salt is gonna touch me with a ten-foot pole."

"Ah, I see. Well given the immense scrutiny by the mayor I can see why he said that." She looked up at him. "But how can I help?"

Roger paused and put his hand on
his chin. "Look, I hate to get you involved. Hopefully, I'm not breaking any rules here. But I need the name of an attorney that's good and would be willing to balk the system to help me out. I figured in your line of work you might know someone like that. So, do you?"

"Maybe." She looked over at the Sergeant at the desk. "Listen, give me a couple of days. I have an idea. Also, you shouldn't come down here again. If someone sees you it might work against you."

Roger raised his eyebrows.

"It might look like we're interrogating you. The press
is always around trying to rummage up a story. We don't want you in the papers, right? I have your number in the file. I will give you a call after I check something out, okay?"

He took her hand in his and shook it. Then he paused and brought it to his lips.

La Rosa's eyes widened and she automatically flinched, pulling her hand away.

"Oh God, I'm sorry.
I didn't mean anything. I just...I don't know I just...." His words faded off and he turned to walk away, his face red.

"Mr. Merit."

He turned back to her, "Roger."

"Roger.
It's okay." She smiled. "It was nice. I'll be in touch."

                                                                      ****

The old man was feeling no pain, as they say. He had filled three flasks and hidden them all over the house. His wife didn't seem to notice. At least she didn't confront him.

He kept a constant buzz going
, and it helped immensely. He took the pictures of the kids into the bathroom, ran the shower, drank, and cried over their images. The booze worked miracles. He was able to go to the grocery store and get food, although he did swerve a bit driving there. He had to be careful not to drink too much, just enough to keep that numbing buzz so he could function. But at night, that was when he found real relief. He would go out into the garage and drink until she went to bed. Then he would pass out on the couch in the den. It was helping him deal with the loss of the kids and with her.

His wife
was like a statue. She barely did anything but sit and stare off into space. Nothing moved her. Friends had come by to offer their condolences and leave food, but she wouldn't even talk to them. Just sat and stared. The friends left with sad and worried expressions on their faces. Even the rabbi had left frustrated after his last visit. His wife hadn't spoken one word, just sat and stared at the wall. He hadn't drank as much that day so the rabbi wouldn't be suspicious. But as soon as the visit was over, he went to the garage and started throwing them back. Thank God for the booze.

                                                                      ****

She knew her husband was worrie
d about her. "Clara, you should talk to him," she said under her breath. She should engage him, but she couldn't and didn't want to. She was happy in her mind.

Clara, the old woman and mother, replayed
all of Rachel's childhood and when the grandchildren were born. She was living in the past.

He
r husband moved around her, ignoring her. He'd given up trying and spent a lot of time in the garage. God only knew what he was doing. He could be drinking again for all she knew or cared.

The rabbi had come and given her platitude
s. She was really amazed that the rabbi, of all people, didn't get what she was feeling. He should understand loss, pain, and suffering. But he kept saying she had to move on and rely on God. Really? God wasn't important to her anymore. God had taken everything. Clara would be happy not to wake up anymore. But she couldn't end her life. That far she couldn't go. But she had determined that until she was taken she wasn't going to engage in a life that could be so cruel. She would just stay here in her mind where her daughter was still alive and well.

                                                                      ****

James sighed and stretched. He felt her warm body curled into his and smiled. "Ah, baby, you feel so good."

Regina straightened her arms and stretched too. "I missed you, love."

He felt himself immediately aroused and turned to face her. She felt his erection and turned to grab it. He moaned.

She giggled and nuzzled his neck.
"Oh my, you missed me, didn't you?"

As he slid inside of her he momentarily t
hought of Anne's face when she had been running across the back lawn of their home in Brighton. His heart fluttered as Regina wrapped her hands into his hair and pulled him deeper into her. Anne's face disappeared, and the rapture of the moment engulfed him.

                                                                      ****

Diana felt powerful after tea, scones, and a deep rest. She had slept for ten hours and when she awoke James had not been back to their room.
Fine by me
, she thought. She dialed England and waited for the click.

"Daddy,
it's Diana."

"Oh pet, are you holding on? How is the investigation going?"

"Daddy, I'm coming home. And I want you to get me the best barrister in town."

"What? Did I hear you
right? Did you say you want me to find you a barrister? For what? To sue those bastards?"

Diana paused and sighed. "No, I'm going to divorce James."

There was an even longer pause as her father took in what she'd said.

"You're going to do what? Divorce James? My dear, that just isn't possible."

Diana steeled herself. "Yes, daddy. It is not only possible, but absolutely probable. I am divorcing James. He's been shagging everything that moved since we got married. I've had enough. And I owe it to Anne and Christopher not to be a doormat any longer. I'm not going to argue with you. Find me a barrister from your cronies or I will call the tattles and announce it there."

Her father was
angry she could tell by the way he was breathing.

"All right, my dear
. I will call you back tomorrow."

"
I'll be home in two days. Have that name and an appointment for me when I get back. All right?"

"Yes, pet."

Diana smiled, satisfied that she could still get her way with her dad. She felt Anne smiling beside her. "Good job, mummy," Diana said under her breath as she hung up.

                                                                      ****

Lindy turned as her father opened her door to check on her. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep just in case he stepped in to make sure. She heard the door click shut and his steps as he moved downstairs. Slowly eased from the bed making sure it didn't squeak. Then she walked to the door and opened it. She was moving so slowly that she could hear her heartbeat with every step. Listening she heard the mechanical sound of the garage door and an engine starting.  Her father pulled out of the garage shutting the door behind him. She walked quickly to the window and watched him drive down the street.

Running to his bedroom
, Lindy began the search for her sleeping pills from the doctor. She looked in her father's dresser drawers and didn't find anything. She couldn't believe he would be so stupid as to leave them on the counter in his bathroom, but sure enough there they were. Two full bottles of pills sat beckoning. These were pretty strong and had made her sleep for over twenty hours, so taking everything in both bottles would certainly do the trick.

Grabbing the containers she emptied the pills into the cup sitting on the counter, then returned the caps to the bottles. She hurried downstairs to the freezer and the bottle of vodka, noticing it was lower than it had been the night before.

Lindy felt her heart catch.
"Sorry, Dad." 

Back in
her room she opened the bottle, took a handful of the pills, and swallowed them with the vodka. The harsh taste of the alcohol made her cough, but she took a couple of deep breaths before repeating the process of a handful of pills with drinks of vodka until all the pills were gone and the bottle was empty. She felt a calmness descend.

"It's time to go."
She lay down on the bed. Lindy realized she hadn't left a note for her parents and she couldn't do that to them. She stumbled to the desk noticing that either the pills or the vodka were doing their job already. Lindy had to make her eyes focus on the paper as she wrote out the few lines. Satisfied she paused as a tear fell onto the page.

"I love you, guys
. I just can't stay here." She softly said aloud. Then she re-read the note and signed her name.

Lindy made her way
back to the bed and pulled her comforter around her. Turning on her side she could see the bedside table where pictures of her dad, mom, Heather, and Megan sat. She stared at their faces and felt her heart swell with love. Her stomach tried to heave, but she fought it down. She took deep breaths and waited.

                                                                      ****

Chapter Twelve

Arriving home
and opening the door he noticed the smell of something spoiled. It was strong and overpowering and he recoiled.  He thought he'd taken everything out to the trash before he left, but obviously he'd missed something. For a second he hoped he hadn't made a mistake like that at the park.

"No. Not possible," h
e said and smiled. Closing the door he was back in his own world. It wasn't a very happy world. His wife had left him a couple of years ago after he became obsessed with bringing the corporation down. She'd wanted him to move on and find another job, but he couldn't get past the injustices. Being alone wasn't terrible for him. He actually felt better that way.

The man s
et his suitcase down in the hall and picked the mail up off the floor. Most of the letters looked like bills, and a couple had past due stamped on the envelope. Smirking he put them all in the trash bin in the kitchen. Here he found the culprit causing the odor. He'd left his cereal bowl in the sink without rinsing it out and it had turned stagnant. He quickly dumped the contents while running water over the bowl. The thought came to him.
That milk is like my life
. Then he shrugged and threw the bowl into the trash as well.

                                                                      ****

Clara, his wife, wouldn't get out of bed. She'd been in their bedroom all day. He'd checked on her twice, but she wouldn't talk to him and only looked at him once. He'd threatened her and told her he'd take her to the nut house if she didn't start doing something. She'd turned and looked at him with dead eyes. He went straight to the garage and poured a tumbler full of scotch, drinking it down in gulps.

"Damn."
He didn't know what he was gonna do. He'd been feeling better since he started drinking, but people kept asking to come by and see them. It had been almost two weeks and it seemed that people thought he and Clara should be moving on. Really? He couldn't make her do anything. He could only take care of himself. He poured another tumbler full of scotch and sat down on the stool. He spent the rest of the morning drinking and thinking.