Mother (65 page)

Claire closed her eyes, trying to imagine that poor woman’s betrayal. It was just too much. And so humiliating. “How did I come out of that woman? I’m so … ashamed! She’s a monster.”

“You’re not her, Claire, You’re not her at all.” Steffie touched Claire’s hand.
 

“I just can’t wrap my mind around it. It’s crazy.”

“Truly. She was, and still is, obsessed with Tim. His death was just a minor technicality - it changed nothing. She still thinks she owns him.”

“We’ve heard her talking to him quite a lot. Of course, last night I was talking to him, too.” Her laugh was humorless. “But I don’t think it’s the same thing.”

“Not at all. Your mother never accepted Tim’s death,” said Steffie. “And if she couldn’t have him, then she’d become him. As evidenced by the Facebook affair.”

“And to think, I used to envy the attention she lavished on him. If I’d only known how bad it really was.” She looked at Steffie. “How much did Tim tell you about what she did to him?”

“Not much. I suspected something was very wrong, and as I got older, it started making more sense. But he never really told me anything back then. I imagine he was ashamed of her, too. All I really knew was that she wouldn’t let anyone get close to him. I suspected abuse, but had no way of knowing how far it had gone.”

Claire closed her eyes against the sunburst of color that had formed around Steffie’s hair. At least the effects are diminishing. “When Jason gets back with my music box, I think we’ll know a lot more.”

“How do you mean? What’s the deal with the music box?”

“It’s something I’d forgotten until last night.” Claire chewed her lip. “You’ll see.”

Aida stepped forward, Stan behind her, still trying to control his chuckles. Aida’s arms were crossed and she had a look on her face that didn’t belong there. Eyes narrowed, she frowned. “I don’t see anything funny about this, Priscilla. We’ve been getting threatening letters for years.” She raised her voice. “Does anyone else think that’s funny?”
 

The crowd murmured.

“I never expected
you
to be disloyal to me, Aida! I never thought you-”

“Then why did you send those letters? Tell me why!”

“I remember when they started, Aida-honey.” Stan’s smile fled. “About twenty years ago, Prissy asked me to light the pilot on her water heater. I did … and then, well, she tried to seduce me.”

The crowd gasped.

“I did
nothing
of the sort!” exclaimed Prissy.

Aida turned to Stan, gaping. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t succumb to her, and it would only have upset you.”

“I made it clear I loved my Aida,” he told the crowd. He turned back to Aida. “She ran up the stairs and I left. It was never spoken of again.”
 

“Liar!” shrieked Prissy. “He’s a liar!”

He pointed to Priscilla. “If she’d tried it twice, I would have told you, sweetheart.”

Aida stared at Prissy with cold eyes. “So you threatened
my
husband for rejecting your advances?”

“This is just a diversion from the truth! A red herring! I know your
real
secret, Stan! And Aida!” She looked around and announced, “You two used to live in a commune! You were dirty hippies! In a dirty commune!”

Stan broke out laughing. So did Aida, who leaned against her husband as he put his arm around her. “We joined a commune after college,” Aida said, realizing that in light of the recent events, her “dark” secret wasn’t so dark after all. She shook her head. “You’re showing your ignorance, Priscilla. It was a farming commune and we-”

“Grew marijuana! You were drug dealers!”

Stan belly-laughed. “We may have smoked some occasionally, but we grew produce and did it so well that Greentown Farms - the commune - became a business. Today, it’s the supplier of the best organic produce in Gold Country. In fact, Prissy, I believe your snapdragon seeds come from Greentown Farms, don’t they?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Clyde Stine stepped forward. “Phyllis and I have gotten letters too, so I may as well confess my secret. I’ve been known to wear ladies undergarments. I like the feel. And, evidently, Prissy’s the real pervert on the sac. She’s a peeping Tom!”
 

“I am
not
!” Prissy cried. “None of you people have any idea how to use the Internet, do you?” She laughed, high and cackling. “I don’t need to peep to know about your sick habits. And Morning Glory Circle is a
cul-de-sac
. Not a ‘sac’!”

Phyllis stepped forward, her hand in Clyde’s. “I,” she said, voice shaking with effort, “am a little older than my husband.”

“A little older?” Prissy asked. “A
little
older? You’re-”
 

“Priscilla,” Father Andy said. “Stop this now.” He stepped forward. Earlene and her girls stayed put. “Priscilla, you need help-”

“And
you
have no sack!” Prissy screamed. She pointed at Dave. “At least that old reprobate is a
real
man!” She eyed Andy, looking him up and down. “I suppose you prefer choir boys to women!”

“Shut up, Prissy!” The circle parted as Babs strode into the center of it, Quinton Everett and Stan behind her. “You’ve made us all suffer. For years, you’ve been saying Quinton was a pedophile!”

Excited whispering commenced all around. Prissy smiled. Babs knew that Prissy didn’t believe a virile-looking man like Quinton would never admit the truth.

But he did. “I exchanged my ... equipment - and my sex drive - for a purple heart, many years ago.” Quinton looked at Prissy. “That was a vile rumor you spread, and now you’re trying to say the same about Father Andy. But no one believes anything you say anymore, Priscilla Martin. No one.”

“You people think you’re so high and mighty. But there’s more!” Prissy whirled to face the crowd. “Why don’t you tell us about your gambling problem, Carl?”
 

Carl stepped forward, a little smile on his face, and began his confession.

At the bottom of a carton, packed neatly away, Jason found Claire’s music box. He saw nothing unusual. It was old but well cared for, and he found nothing inside except the plastic ballerina that teetered and circled on a spring as music tinkled. Closing it, he left the apartment, locking the door behind him.
 

Fred waved from his balcony and Jason raised his hand in return, then glanced around to be sure Prissy wasn’t in sight before darting down the steps and into the main house. His pulse thudding in his chest, he held the music box in a death grip as he walked through the kitchen, past the empty living room, and up the stairs. In the hall, he noticed evenly spaced nail holes on both sides of the wall that he hadn’t seen before, and many of the dried wreaths were missing. He paused, running a finger across one of the holes. It was new, and on the carpet below it was a small mist of white dust, as if pictures were going to be hung.
 

The strong odor caught his attention again.
Turpentine? Paint?
He recalled Claire saying she’d smelled chemicals. She’d also said she’d heard tapping from a nearby room. He’d written it off as delusion and paranoia, but it was undeniable now - pungent, bitter proof that his wife was as sane as the day he’d met her. He kept walking, following the acrid scent. And stopped in front of Timothy’s old bedroom, where it was strongest.

He tried the knob. It was locked.
 

He almost ignored it -
Just get Claire’s music box to her
- but his sense that he’d find something important behind that door overpowered him. He bent, tried to peer through the keyhole, but saw nothing. Setting down the music box, he dug into his back pocket, withdrew his wallet, and found his debit card. It wouldn’t take much to jimmy an old lock like this. After just a few moments he felt and heard the
click
of success. The door cracked.
Piece of cake.

He pushed the door. It swung slowly open and Jason stepped into Timothy’s bedroom.

His breath caught. His feet and thoughts were frozen in place. He stared, unable to make sense of what he saw.

And then, as if by one swift stroke of the brush, the bewildering picture before him became horribly, dreadfully, hideously clear.

“Oh, my God …”

The music box fell from his hand.

“I have something to say.” Candy Sachs stepped forward, her son and husband behind her.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Prissy stared at her. So did all the neighbors.

“I’m a transsexual. My name used to be Conrad.”

The onlookers went silent.

Milton Sachs took his wife’s hand. “And she told me well before I proposed. I love my wife. It’s no secret.”

Billy stepped in front of both. “And I’m adopted! Duh!” He stuck his tongue out at Prissy.

Dave Flannigan stood with Andy, and stared steadily into Prissy’s eyes. “I wonder what you had on the Collins family,” he said. “Everyone knew you didn’t care for Geneva-Marie.”

Andy nodded. “What did you know about Burke Collins, Priscilla?”

Prissy tried to stare him down. It didn’t work. “His business was failing.”

“We all knew that.”

“And he was a drunk. He abused his wife and children.”

Roddy Crocker pushed through the crowd. “Priscilla,” he said.

“Roderick, thank heaven.” Prissy touched her split lip. “Earlene Dean assaulted me. I want to press charges.”

He glanced at Earlene, then looked back at Prissy. “I have to ask you not to leave town. You’re under investigation as an accessory to the murder of the Collins family.”

Prissy’s jaw dropped. “What the hell are you babbling about?” She stepped closer to the cop. “I had nothing to do with what Burke did to his family.”

“We may not be able to arrest you, Priscilla,” Roddy said evenly, “but we’re virtually positive you lit the fuse that started his rampage. So don’t leave town.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“The letters you wrote to your neighbors match the one we believe you wrote to Burke Collins.”

“I did nothing wrong! I merely told him the truth about the boys he was raising. He had a right to know that Duane Pruitt was their father!”

The neighbors gasped, started to chatter, then shut up, straining to hear as Roddy began speaking. “Whether or not that’s true-”

“It’s true!”

“That’s neither here nor there. What matters to us - your neighbors - is that you chose to inform him of this while the man was going to AA and trying very hard to get his life back on track.” He paused. “And what matters in the eyes of the law, is the homeless woman we located who claims you paid her to deliver both the note and scotch to him. She’s agreed to testify, if it comes to that.”

Father Andy cleared his throat. “It’s time to let go of your anger and hatred, Priscilla. It’s not Christian. You need help.”

“I don’t need your prattle, you … you … sexless …
priest
!” Priscilla wanted to punch him in his self-righteous face. “I saw you staring at me at their funeral!”

“We tried not to, Priscilla,” Father Dave said in a voice so calm and pleasant that she wanted to slit his throat. He turned to the crowd. “Priscilla was exposing herself to us throughout the service. Even during Communion. It was quite unbecoming.”

More gasps.

Bette Midler’s voice started belting out
I Put a Spell on You
from a nearby radio.
 

Prissy felt the many stares boring holes into her, burning her with their accusations. “It’s not true. None of this is true! This is a conspiracy! Why are you doing this to me?” She paused, wiped spittle off her cheek, and glared at her neighbors. “I made you! You’re
nothing
without me! None of you! This street would be
nothing
without me! I have given and given and given to
all
of you!” Her wild eyes raked over the crowd. “Well, no more!”
 

Revelations

Jason grabbed the music box and backed out of Timothy’s bedroom. His throat was dry. His head spun. It was as if someone had torn a hole in reality and he was tumbling through the empty air with nothing to cling to, nothing to grasp.

Swallowing, he headed to Claire’s room.

On the bed, Claire and Stephanie looked up.
 

“You found it!” said Claire. Her face was still blotchy from crying, but Stephanie had helped her dress and comb her hair. There was a fire in her eye that told him the old Claire was back.
 

Jason looked down at the box, his mind still reeling from shock. He handed it to Claire. She didn’t notice his trembling hands.

She opened it and started peeling back the purple satin lining. “In the … uh, vision I had … I remembered that I’d found Tim’s body - and that I found a note he meant for Mother.” The satin lifted as she tugged. “Before she arrived, I took it and hid it, but I didn’t even recall doing so until-” she paused. “Until, well … Until Tim told me. When I was … unresponsive.” Her eyes flicked to Stephanie then to Jason. “It sounds crazy, right?”

Jason said nothing. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the things he’d seen in Tim’s old bedroom … and wondering how he was going to tell Claire.

“Yes!” Claire’s exclamation startled him. She pulled a yellowed envelope from behind the lining. “I never even opened it.” She turned it over, then tore it open.

Prissy stared at Roddy Crocker. “So,” she said. “I’m not under arrest, am I?”

His gaze hardened. “No, ma’am. But don’t leave town.”

She smoothed a hand over her hair, drew her shoulders back, and stomped off, the crowd parting like the Red Sea. On the sidewalk, she paused and turned. “You people need to open your eyes!” She brought her hands up to the sides of her face and splayed her fingers. “
Open
your eyes!”

All of Morning Glory Circle stared on, whispering as Priscilla Martin stalked toward her house, as dignified and blameless as ever.
 

“None of her neighbors know what she’s capable of,” Dave said to Andy. “Maybe we’d better go in after her.”

Andy spotted Paul Schuyler, who came trotting over. “Thank God you guys are here. She just went inside. We’ve got to go in. She’s a danger to Claire.”