Innocent Little Crimes (17 page)

“Yeah,” Della said. “So you treat her like
garbage all these years, to rub it in.”

Millie was surprised to hear herself
shouting. “I thought you really loved me in college, you know? But
the truth is, I tried to convince myself at the time. I knew the
only reason you paid any attention to me was because I was the only
one who’d have you.”

“And you were so desperate to catch a husband
that you pretended to care. It was all an act. You didn’t want to
be left out of the clique,” Dick said.

“Neither did you.”

Dick paced the floor. “I should have listened
to my mother warnings. She was so right about you—”

“Oh, great. Let’s drag your mother into this.
Ida Ferrol, the queen mother. Even now you trail behind her,
holding her skirts. No woman is good enough for her only precious
son. She should know what kind of user you are. She wouldn’t be so
proud of you if she found out.”

“When
she
finds out,” Lila said. Dick shot her a look of horror.

“Dear, deeply religious Ida,” Lila continued,
“who believes if you even look at another woman, you burn in hell.”
Lila picked at a hangnail. “I can just see her face now.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Dick’s voice
quavered.

“Oh, come on, Ferrol,” Davis said.
“You
really
care what your
mother thinks about your life?”

“He should be thrown off the bench just for
that,” Della added.

“I imagine she’ll disown you. At very least,
she’ll be terribly disappointed in you, Dick, regardless of how
much she hates Millie,” Lila said.

For the first time that evening, Dick was
speechless. His mouth hung open as he gasped for breath. He dropped
back down on the bench.

Millie felt her voice grow hoarse. “I can’t
believe that on top of all this, you’ve stashed away money and
spent it on this . . . Penny. While our own children barely have
enough for their needs. Their braces, their lessons, their clothes.
What about the college fund we were going to set up for them? You
kept saying we had no money for that.”

Lila waggled a finger in Millie’s direction.
“You tell him, Mil.”

“Break out the violins,” Jonathan added.

“Off the bench, Ferrol,” Davis said.

Cynthia punched Davis in the arm. “Davis,
don’t be so mean.”

“I’m not getting off unless Millie gets
off.”

“Get off, Dick,” Della said.

“Yeah, get off Dick,” Jonathan said, clapping
his hands in cadence.

Davis joined in the clapping. “Let’s
vote.”

Millie, her face red with anger, pounded in
beat on the bench. “Yes, vote.”

Della’s hand shot up. “I vote Ferrol off and
into the mouths of the wolves.” Other hands shot up, but Cynthia
and Peter remained still.

Lila grabbed Dick by the arm and pulled him
to standing. “I think we’ve heard enough.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Happy eating, wolves.” He
howled.

Dick, flustered and enraged, turned his back
on them, then hurried over to the buffet table and grabbed a beer.
He pressed into a corner and popped the can open.

Millie sensed a nervous shifting on the
benches. She stared into the flickering candlelight. How could this
have happened? How could she have been so blind? A great surge of
fear overcame her. Were all these things true? Was Dick guilty of
serious crimes? What was going to happen when they returned home?
And, how could she sleep in the same bed with that lying, heartless
man ever again?

“Well, that was easy,” said Lila.
“Nominations are in order. Who’s next?”

Chapter 18

Lila scanned the faces, finally resting her
eyes on Jonathan. “I’m sure you and Della have a lot to say about
each other.”

“You’re not going to goad me into this,
Lila,” Della said. “I’m sick of talking about Mr. Hotshot Director.
Even the negative attention strokes his ego. If you want me off the
bench, I’ll make it real easy for you. I admit I’ve wasted my life.
I’m taking up space. I don’t think anyone will feel an urge to come
to my defense.”

“That’s for sure,” Jonathan said.

“
I’ll defend you,” said Millie. “I
think you’re a lot more decent than some of the others in this
room. Why should Della be voted unworthy just because she’s not
rich . . . or a star . . . or successful? What about having a good
heart? Doesn’t that count for something?”

Jonathan laughed. “Oh, spare me, Millie. A
good heart? In college, Della treated you like crap. You were
nothing to her. Why are you so eager to protect her?”

“I’m not protecting her. And who cares how
she treated me fifteen years ago? I’m trying to make a point.”

“I agree,” said Cynthia. “Della’s made some
mistakes in her life, but mistakes are different than deliberate
sins.”

“You two are pathetic,” Lila said. “You’re
supposed to be fighting for your lives here, not have a classroom
discussion on morality. The wolves are gaining.”

“Lila, why don’t you take your game and shove
it,” Della said.

Lila chuckled. “That’s more like it.”

“I say we dump the hostess,” Della added.
“What reason should you stay on the bench? So what if you have
success and wealth and fame? You’re hostile, rude and . . . sick to
enjoy watching everyone suffer.”

“And don’t forget she’s a frigging spy,” Dick
said.

Lila took a bow. “Ah, the truth has finally
come out. You’re going to have to do better than that, though, to
throw me off.”

“Well, Dick’s right. What about nosing into
everyone’s personal business? What gives you the right to do that?”
Davis asked.

“Oh, nothing evil about a little
curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,”

“Hey, Ferrol, you’re dead!” Lila snapped.
“Remember—frozen on the Steppes.”

“Yeah, but my memory lingers on.”

“We’re getting nowhere, gang,” Lila said.
“Okay Della, if you’re going to go, let’s put you out in style.
Now, for the moment, let’s forget about the little games in
college—the way you deceived Davis to get into Jon’s pants. We
already said sex was out. And that was petty, anyway. What wasn’t
petty, though, was persuading your aunt to go broke in order to
send you to college.”

“She offered.”

“You could have worked your way through, but
you were lazy.”

“I did work—every summer. I saved what I
could. And I tried for a scholarship and that fell through.”

“You ever pay your aunt back? Or thank
her?”

Della put a hand on her forehead and
squeezed her eyes shut. “I’d pay her back if I could, but you know
I don’t have the money. I’ve never been able to get far enough
ahead.” Why was she bothering to defend herself? Lila was
right—she
had
treated her
aunt badly.

“Isn’t it true your aunt doesn’t speak to you
anymore? She calls you ‘the ungrateful niece.’ ”

Della’s mind wandered to her aunt
Evvie. Sweet, trusting Aunt Evvie. When her mother wouldn’t believe
her about the beatings her stepfather gave her, Aunt Evvie did. She
knew what a bastard he was. Her aunt agreed she had to get
away.
And how have I repaid her? I never
even call her.
Tears pooled in her eyes. How could she
tell her aunt how she screwed up all her chances? It would break
Evvie’s heart.

“In fact, your brother and his wife don’t
speak to you either. You botched things up there, too. That was a
nasty piece of business, locking your poor little niece and nephew
out in the snow to freeze their little buns off. No wonder Edward
threw you out.”

Della gasped. “That’s not what happened.”

Lila went on. “Our Della makes a career out
of finding one sucker after another to take her in. She pulls her
‘poor little waif’ act and, voila, another place to freeload.”

“You got that right,” Jonathan said. “She’s a
one-woman soap opera. ‘Other Peoples’ Lives.’ ”

Lila ignored Jonathan. “But while Della was
in New York she did try to get some help. Some very special help.
From a special friend of mine.”

“Who?” Della asked. “I don’t know any friend
of yours.”

“But you do, dear. Why, Daniel, Daniel
Bradford.”

A horrible feeling clenched Della’s stomach
and traveled up to her throat. She breathed hard, struggling for
air like a swimmer trying to surface from deep waters. “My
Daniel?”

“Well, he was ‘yours’ for a while; I guess
you could say that.”

“You know him?”

“Why, yes, Della,” Lila said.
“We’re
very
close. In fact,
he would do just about anything for me.”

“I don’t get this . . .”

“Della, my, but you’re awfully slow
tonight.”

“Who’s Daniel?” Davis asked.

“Well, he’s an actor who had a little fun at
Della’s expense.”

“What?” Della grabbed her throat. The room
spun.

“Let’s just say,” Lila said, looking at
Davis, “that he was a little short of cash. So I gave him a
job.”

“You hired him to be my shrink?”

“No, Della,” Lila said. “I hired him to be
your lover.”

“No. He loved me!”

“He always was a damned good actor. Did I
mention that we originally met in an acting workshop? You should
see his Hamlet. He had such fun putting subliminal messages into
your relaxation tapes.”

Della stood and steadied herself. “Why, you—I
don’t believe this for a minute.”

Lila shrugged. “Give him a call when you go
home, wherever that is. By the way, he took your precious cat to
the pound.”

Della felt a stab of pain through her heart.
“Princess . . . not my Princess . . .”

Jonathan howled and threw back his head.
“Hah—another one of your stinking cats!”

Della glared at Jonathan, then lunged over
the bench for his throat. He laughed even harder, pulling her hands
down.

“You bastard! My cat is worth more than you,
you piece of filth!”

Jonathan’s words came sandwiched between
hysterical gasps. “Why attack me? Lila’s the one who set you
up.”

Millie spoke over the melee. “I vote Lila off
the bench. For doing such a rotten thing to Della.”

Lila laughed so hard that tears streamed down
her face. “Just wait, it gets worse. Let’s finish Della off, then
you can come after me.”

“Haven’t you said enough?” Cynthia asked.

Lila ignored her and reached for the bottle
on the floor. “Let’s see—Della’s list of unworthy accomplishments
continues: After college, she floundered from one bed to another,
one job to another, making sure nothing would work out so she could
feel sorry for her poor self. But, we all remember Della in
college—Della the beautiful, Della the ambitious, Della the
most-likely-to-succeed. What set her on this downward spiral?” Lila
glared at her captive audience. “Did you ever tell Davis about the
abortion?”

“I know about it,” Davis said. Della
stared at him, puzzled. She had never told
anyone
about that.

“Did you know the child was yours? We all
know it couldn’t have been Jon’s—he couldn’t keep it up, isn’t that
what you told us, Della?”

Jonathan pursed his lips together, obviously
resisting the urge to snap back.

Davis continued. “Hey, when she left me for
Jon, it was none of my concern. She never came to me about it.”

Cynthia gaped at Davis, but he didn’t notice
her look of chagrin.

Lila waved the half-empty scotch bottle in
the air. “So, poor Catholic, guilt-ridden Della had an abortion.
And to punish herself even more, she got pregnant again. And again.
And each time, she desperately wanted a child, and each time she
chickened out, choosing murder over responsibility.”

Della groaned, then her body convulsed into
racking sobs. “No, please, no . . . please . . .”

Cynthia jumped up from the bench. “That’s it!
I’ve had enough. This is hateful. You’re all hateful. I say we vote
to end this game. Who wants out—raise your hand.” Cynthia held her
hand high.

Millie’s hand shot up. “I agree.”

“No way,” said Dick, pouring another drink.
“If I had to take it, then you all have to take it.”

Lila clicked her tongue. “You end the game,
no one gets the prize.”

“Screw the prize, Li,” Davis said. “I vote
with Cynthia.”

“Jonny?”

“I say we keep going.”

“Peter?” Lila shot him a look that meant his
job was on the line.

He sighed. “I’m in.”

“Well, Della, it looks like you’re the
determining vote,” Lila said.

“Della, come on,” Cynthia urged, “look what
she’s done to you. Don’t let her go on with this.”

Della’s crying lessened into tiny
moans. She looked up, eyes red and swollen.
Let them throw me to the wolves. But not before Jonathan and
Lila get what’s coming to them.
She would make them
pay for what they did to her.

“No, let’s keep playing. If I’m going down,
you’re all going with me.”

Lila laughed. “That’s the spirit. Now here’s
a person who can take her medicine. Della, I’m surprised you have
it in you.”

“Let’s get on with it then. I vote Della off
the bench,” Jonathan said.

“I vote she stays on,” Cynthia countered.

Jonathan groaned. “You’d vote to save
everyone. Let’s keep the game moving.”

“Yes, let’s discard people like they were
trash,” Cynthia said.

Davis stroked her arm. “It’s just a game,
darling.”

Cynthia knocked his hand away. “A hurtful
game.”

“Sometimes the truth hurts,” Lila said.
“But, isn’t it good to know what people are
really
made of? My dear, young Cynthia, it’s
time you had your eyes opened. This is the way the world really is.
Killers and victims.”