The Cove (40 page)

“Would you mind if I talked privately with my husband for a few minutes?”

The cop looked ceiling-ward and considered the request, but only for a moment. He shook his head
no
and said, “My orders are to stay with him until I’m relieved.”

Louise smiled to herself, thinking she should ask him what he would do if he needed to relieve himself, but she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere by being flip.

“It’s only for a few seconds,” she said with a hint of sultry undertone in her voice. “I mean — think about it. We’re up on the third floor. He’s been shot in the leg and is hooked up with IVs and whatever. I doubt he’s gonna run. Where’s
he
gonna go?”

The cop surveyed the room as if noticing it for the first time. Then he closed the magazine, dropped in onto the table next to the chair, and stood up. His leather gun belt creaked like an old saddle.

“I guess it’ll be all right then,” he said, and he walked slowly out the door, easing it shut behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Lou,” Tom said, the instant he was gone.

Against her better judgment, Louise almost felt a spark of sympathy for Tom. He was, after all, still her husband; and she had loved him … at least once upon a time. But she had been through enough, and she knew the true content of his character.

“So tell me …” she said.

She made a point of not approaching the bed and getting too close to him or making any gestures that he might interpret as loving or even friendly. If she wanted to get away with what she intended to pull off, she had to keep up the façade and play the dutiful, concerned wife.

“I got shot … and it looks like I killed two people.”

Louise’s body went cold at his words. She had no idea how to respond.

“I took a bullet in the shoulder —” He raised his bandaged right arm as if performing a “Show and Tell” in grade school. “And in the left leg … in the thigh just above the knee. A fragment blew out my kneecap.”

“Jesus, you
killed
someone?” Louise was still trying to absorb that simple fact while also thinking it was too bad he hadn’t died, too. If he had, she’d be free and clear to do whatever she wanted with the money she’d found.

“Two guys,” Tom said.

Apparently misreading her reaction and taking it as sympathy for his plight, he beckoned her closer to the bed. After almost a year of conditioning, though, she shied away from him, automatically expecting him, even in his present condition, to lash out at her.

“Come on,” he said, seeing her hesitation. He patted the side of the bed. “I … since all of this went down, I’ve realized some things … lots of things”

I’ll bet,
Louise thought.

Tom kept patting the side of the bed, looking almost angry that she wasn’t coming over to sit close to him. Taking a shallow breath, her body tense and ready to respond if he made the slightest move to hurt her, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, pressing her clasped hands tightly between her legs.

“One thing — I realized,” Tom said, “is that I … that I haven’t been treating you very good.”

No shit,
Louise wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she stared straight ahead at the blank beige wall. For a long time, the only sounds were the steady clicking on his IV feed and the soft, hissing sound coming from his oxygen tube.

“So who did you kill?” she asked, finally working up the nerve to speak.

“Tony Gillette. You know Tony?”

“Only by reputation.”

“He was a small time punk-ass dealer from Darmiscotta who deserved it,
s’far
as I can see.”

“You said two guys. Who else?”

Tom winced like he’d bitten the inside of his cheek. His face went a shade or two paler.

“Yeah, here’s where it gets kinda fucked up … Gillette was with a DEA guy … guy named Jerry Lincoln. I went to meet them … I’ve been working on setting up this sting operation, and it went to shit.”

“Jesus Christ, Tom,” Louise said as the full impact of what he was telling her hit home. This wasn’t a joke, and no matter how she looked at it, she knew Tom was in a world of trouble.

Tom winced and let out a small yelp of pain when he straightened up and leaned forward. His eyes were watery and bloodshot. His cheeks were lined with broken blood vessels.

“This is why you gotta help me, Lou,” he said, his voice a desperate whisper.

Louise sat motionless, her hands cold, her gaze fixed on the floor. Then she started shaking her head from side to side, already denying what she knew he was about to say.

“There’s some —”

He leaned forward and reached out with his left hand, trying to touch her, but Louise — braced for a slap — flinched and then quickly shifted out of reach.

“It’s not like that,” Tom said with a little boy pleading in his voice. “Not any more. I … I realized how shitty I’ve been treating you, but that’s all gonna change from now on. I promise.”

Louise looked at him, unable to keep her upper lip from curling into a sneer.

“I know I haven’t treated you good. But I’m gonna change. I promise. I already have changed. And I … I’m gonna need you … your help because of all the shit that’s gonna come down on me because of what happened.”

Louise didn’t say a word.

“I’m gonna be in a world of legal trouble, and it’s gonna be expensive.”

“I can’t help you there,” she said, but thinking about the money she had found in his bureau made her smile inwardly.

“Yes, you can.” Tom tried again to reach out and touch her, but Louise was keeping her distance. She knew what he might do. She could see the monster, still lurking behind this thin mask of reconciliation and pretended love.

“In the bedroom … in my bureau.” He looked around the room as though expecting to see someone lurking nearby, listening. “Taped to the back of the second drawer … There’s a manila envelope.”

“A manila envelope?”

Louise bit down on her lower lip to keep from smiling as she thought about what she had already done with that envelope. Earlier that evening, when she was at her father’s house, she had fretted about what to do with the cash she had found. Any place she thought of to hide it was too obvious. When the cops came snooping around — which was inevitable — they’d be certain to find it if she stashed it anywhere in the house. The problem was, she didn’t dare hide it anywhere outside the house, either. She was sure the police had equipment that would find it no matter where she hid it … or maybe they had money-sniffing dogs … or the house was already under surveillance.

So what to do? … What to do?

And then it had hit her.

She wasn’t sure if it was something she had seen on a cop show when she was a kid or if it was simply a stroke of genius on her part.

She had folded the envelope over into as small a package as she could make and then wrapped it in several layers of Saran Wrap. Then she had gotten the jar of mayonnaise from the refrigerator. It was one of those huge family-sized jars her father was always buying at Sam’s Club to save money, even though he seldom if ever made himself a sandwich. She scooped out enough of the contents to make a cavity large enough to hold the envelope, and then she refilled the mayonnaise jar and smoothed it over. After making sure the edges of the envelope weren’t visible, she washed the excess mayonnaise down the sink and washed her hands, making sure to clean under her fingernails.

She had put the jar back into the refrigerator, making sure it was way back on the bottom shelf where no one would notice it. She felt secure that it would be safe there for a while, at least until this shitstorm with Tom blew over.

“I’ve been — umm, saving up some money for us. You know — for a rainy day. And … well, this sure as shit constitutes a rainy fucking day.”

“And you want me to do — what?” Louise prayed that what she was thinking didn’t show on her face.

“You gotta get that money and hide it somewheres,” Tom said, lowering his voice. “I’m gonna have legal bills up the ass if I’m gonna stay out of jail.”

Louise was silent for a long moment. What galled her most was thinking how stump-stupid Tom must think she was.

After all the terrible things he had said and done to her, did he
really
think she’d come running to help him?

She wished to God she dared to tell him as much, but for now, she had to act the devoted, if not loving, wife.

She twisted her hands in her lap, her mind churning fast as she tried to think this through without giving herself away. Then a brilliant idea, as good as the mayonnaise jar, came to her.

“The cops already showed up at the house this morning.”

“What?” Tom jerked forward and then winced with pain.

“Yeah. They were at the house this morning with a search warrant.”

“You have got to be shitting me!”

Tom stared at her for a moment, and then his expression collapsed. Moaning, he sagged back on the bed. He looked like an inflatable toy that had a slow leak. His eyes went glassy; his face was sheet-white.

“I’m fucked,” he said, sounding totally defeated.

Louise nodded and said, “Uh-huh. They came by the house. I didn’t know what to do, like, if I should call a lawyer or whatever, but I let them in and then went back to my father’s house. I… I had no idea what they were doing there.”

“Whoa, wait … wait … wait.” Tom’s frown deepened as he raised his un-bandaged hand and shook his forefinger at her. “You were at the house? Our house?”

Louise realized she was on thin ice.

“Yeah, I — umm, I went over to … to get my jewelry,” she said. “I knew you were out, and I thought it’d be safe.”

Tom’s face turned crimson with anger.

Louise said nothing, but she shied away from him, prepared for him to lunge out of the bed and throttle her right there and then. Even the cops outside the door wouldn’t be able to help. She could yell for help all she wanted, but he’d get a few good licks in, first.

But then, like a cloud passing from in front of the sun, Tom visibly relaxed. He smiled and shook his head and then sniffed with suppressed laughter.

“Yeah … Sure. That’s okay,” he said. “Like I said — I knew I was an idiot for treating you the way I did. I was gonna ask … beg you to come back to me.”

Louise didn’t miss the note of insincerity in his voice. But she kept her expression neutral, her gaze fixed on her husband’s face.

She had to play this all the way through. If she got lucky, this would be the last time in her life she would ever see Tom Marshall before he went to jail.

“I …” Louise began, but then she faked a wild shudder and put a hand over her mouth as though she was concerned beyond belief for his welfare. “There … there’s no way of knowing what they found … if anything … I mean … how’ll we know if the money’s still there.”

“It’s
gotta
still be there! At least it was as of yesterday.”

It pleased her no end to see how much Tom was panicking and trying so hard not to let it show. He started gnawing his lower lip, his eyes darting nervously from side to side.

“How will we even know if they found it?” she asked, struggling to keep the correct note of worry in her voice. “They might — Do you think they’d keep it and not even report it? And then use it for evidence against you?”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Tom whispered. He was staring straight ahead at the wall behind her. It was obvious he knew he’d run out of options … and luck. She was practically bursting with demon glee.

Who was it who said:
Revenge is a dish best served cold?

Man, did they ever get
that
wrong.

Revenge is a dish best served piping hot from the gates of Hell.

“You gotta go back there and get it,” Tom said.

“I’m not sure I can even get back into the house,” she said after a moment’s thought. She stood up and started pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. “You don’t think the cops already have the house sealed up? They’ll be watching me
and
the house, for sure.”

Tom’s face looked like it was etched in ivory.

“I suppose I can try … unless you don’t want me to.”

Tom’s expression softened, but a worried tightness still pinched the skin around his eyes. She could all but smell his meanness lurking below the surface.

“It’ll be wicked dangerous.

“I know,” he said. “But I promise. You help me get out of this, and I’ll be the husband you want me to be.”

At that, Louise had had enough.

“You know what?” she said, snapping her fingers as she started backing slowly toward the door. She glanced over her shoulder and was prepared to call for help the instant he left the bed.

“What’s that, hon?”

Tom looked at her expectantly. He obviously was assuming she was going to say she’d find a way to get into the house and check if the money was still there. She could read the hope in his eyes that she was going to say that she still loved him and wanted to try to make it work between them.

“I think you’re on your own here,” Lou said. She was surprised by the calm, steady strength in her voice.