The Devil Makes Three (14 page)

“Let me guess. That needle and crack was planted, right?”

Corbin smiled. “Do you really expect me to admit to something so vile?”

I turned away, glancing out the window. “I suppose not. Who’s Mabel?”

“She’s the cop I use to phone in anonymous tips from time to time. Jealous?”

“No.” I lied. Honestly, now that I thought about it, it didn’t seem wholly unreasonable for him to have women stashed everywhere, just waiting with bated breath to hear his voice on the other end of their lines. Regardless of the personality behind it.

The drive back to my apartment was way too short. All the while, I suffered from a brief panic attack. What was I going to do? Now that I had a clear picture of him romantically, was I really going to invite him up? What if I didn’t invite him up? Would he come anyway? Did I have much of a say at all in the rest of the night? Did I care? My head swam with ideas of what might come and my face began to flush. Corbin simply smiled at me with that smug expression, as if he knew everything about me from the thoughts in my head to what I looked like in my skin.

At my building, I was taken aback when he parked at the curb.

“Wouldn’t my spot be more prudent? Less chance of getting towed?”

He smiled once more and pulled an envelope from his pocket. Taking it from him, I recognized it as payment. “I don’t understand?” I muttered after mustering up my voice.

“I’m not coming up.”

“What? Why?” My voice bordered on shrill, but I couldn’t help it.

He leaned over, that smug smile turning into the Cheshire cat’s grin. He traced my arm through my coat with his finger and whispered in my ear. “Because it’s obvious.”

“What’s obvious?”

“I don’t have to worry about you and him.”

My mood dissipated in an instant and I felt like hitting him. Again. “Is that all this was? You seeing if you could top him? You… You get me all worked up—“

“How worked up?” That suggestive caress was back to his tone and I had to fight not to melt like snow in hell. Taking a deep breath I composed myself.

“Good night, Corbin.”

“Good night, Gretchen. Sleep tight. And don’t forget.”

“Don’t forget what?” The edge came back and my tone felt as frigid as the cold night air.

“You don’t tell him anything about us.”

“I didn’t know we qualified as an ‘us’.”

He raised his hand from my arm and pulled my chin towards him, kissing me hotly on the lips. “Oh, there’s an ‘us’. And you should remember something else.”

“What?”

“I don’t play well with others. And once something is mine, I don’t share it.”

Something to keep in mind: he’s hypocritical, greedy and possessive.

Chapter 12

In which personality number three shows up,

just to ruin Gretchen’s day.

The ground thawed quickly, much to my shock. Within a week I returned to my usual habits, pulling earrings from the lobes of the city’s dead elderly women and tie tacks and cufflinks from their husbands. Of course, I always opened caskets slower now, remembering Mr. Bennett and the preferred burial style of the local nudist colony.

Corbin didn’t call, and Collin never once glanced my way in class. He made no reference to our little encounter in my apartment and seemed to possess a heated desire to forget I existed. He even ceased to call on me in the discussion portion of the lecture.

When the news of the party at the Warren Estate broke, the scandal of it gripped the busy-body public like a vice. Not only were drugs discovered on the premises, but the dead body of Senator Watson was found, still warm and obviously having suffered from an overdose.

It was all Corbin, of course. Of this I had no doubt and I shied away from the news, more than usual. Sure Watson was a politician and corrupt as hell but that didn’t mean Corbin had to kill him. Then again, I had to remind myself, thoughts of this kind gave Corbin way too much credit. He didn’t care about corruption or sainthood. I had the feeling he killed indiscriminately if a proper price tag came attached.

This line of thinking then gave way to other thoughts, such as my own responsibility in the situation. Not only had I been there, aware that something was going down, but I had also been involved in the transaction most likely. Who could say whether or not the envelopes I delivered had information or payment leading to the deaths of many?

Grave robbing felt benign next to this.

The next Monday, nine days after the party, I arrived late to Collin’s class because of a power outage and a lack of batteries in my alarm clock. Oddly, so did Collin. We got to the classroom door at the same time and in an awkward manner greeted each other briefly. Then he pulled the door open and motioned for me to precede him inside. Not wanting to argue, I stepped into the classroom and over to my usual desk. The sight of someone sitting in it made me stop. Realization of who it was made me drop my bag, laptop and all, with a sickening crunch, on the tile floor.

I now had confirmation. There really were at least two of them.

The man sitting in my desk had a relaxed demeanor that didn’t go with his shirt, suit coat and tie. But I still had the urge to run screaming for the hills. Why here? What was he doing in class, and what’s more: what was he doing in my seat?

“Cohen?” Collin said, stepping into the classroom and glancing at him. At the sound of the name I almost audibly let out a sigh of relief. Visions of Corbin turning professional hitman in the college classroom had instantaneously made me want to wretch. But now the stressful thought of why Agent Cade might be here occurred to me and my blood pressure shot through the roof again.

“Sorry to interrupt your class. I had hoped to catch you early.”

“What’s up?” Collin asked, pausing by the door, as if to indicate they should take the conversation out into the hall.

“Nothing really. Do you mind if I kibitz today?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Thanks. Did I take your seat?” he asked me with polite, yet inquiring eyes.

“It didn’t have my name on it,” I replied coldly then headed towards the other end of the aisle, picking a seat well away from both men. I needed time to think, free from prying eyes, but felt certain mere feet was all I could get at this point. Agent Cade’s arrival on the scene felt ominous. Like things had gone too well for the first two decades of my life and were now taking a turn for the worse. Though, what had gone well, I couldn’t say.

Collin made his way to the front of the classroom and asked the students to forgive his tardiness. Collectively the girls sighed and I couldn’t help but notice the way they glanced from the front of the room to the back, as if reluctant to let either delicious brother out of their sight for long.

Personally, they both gave me anxiety like nothing else in life.

Taking a calming breath, I pulled out my laptop and tried to boot up, refusing to get intimidated by Agent Cade’s persistent gaze.

My laptop didn’t respond. A black screen stared back at me, daring me to express my frustration with the day.

Try as I may, I couldn’t ignore that nature seemed fully against me this morning and that my laptop was now broken again. Sighing in resignation, I pulled out a paper and pen and began pretending to take notes. 

By the time class actually ended I felt years older and emotionally exhausted from working myself into a quiet panic. The entire time I worried about why Cohen came. Was he really just visiting his brother? Or had he not believed my declaration from the month before about not seeing Martins before his murder? It just felt so random and ill-timed.

At the end of class I prepared myself for what was to come. Much to my surprise, Agent Cade said nothing to me. Instead, he walked up the aisle against the traffic of exiting students. He stopped at the front desk and began talking with Collin. For a moment Collin’s eyes flashed to me, then back to his brother.

Sucking in a breath of air and holding it, I darted for the door behind my last classmate, hoping to miss the brewing storm.

The nightmare didn’t strike until I left my next class. I was headed to the commons for a snack when he popped up at my side, like a jack in the box.

“Good afternoon, Miss Tanner. How are you today?” Agent Cade asked.

“Fine.” I chose a short and terse tone, and I hoped it conveyed my dislike of the situation.

“I didn’t get to speak to you earlier; you left Professor Cade’s class so fast.”

“I’m hardly one to run out of a class. I’m always one of the last to leave,” I said. “I figured you were there to see your brother, not me. He is your brother, I assume.”

“Yeah. He’s younger than me by two minutes.”

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” I asked, pushing the door to the commons area open and getting blasted by a wave of rowdy energy emanating from my fellow students.

“Yes. Really I just wanted to check up with you and see if you remembered seeing Martins at some point before his death.”

I walked over to a Coke machine and he followed. “Agent Cade, I already told you I never saw him.”

“Please. Call me Cohen. And I know what you said before, but you seemed so uncomfortable when we first met. I just wanted to check up with you. Seeing him wouldn’t be a crime, you know.”

Swiping my student ID, I watched the screen on the coke machine register the deduction from my account and I pushed the button for a drink.

Nothing happened.

“Having trouble?” asked Cohen. “Do you need some cash?”

“No,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “It’s this reject of a machine.” With a vicious kick, I attacked the base of the contraption. Still, nothing happened.

Cohen reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. Slipping it into the machine, he pressed the button for a Coke, and the can rolled out, mocking me.

“All yours.” He smiled. 

I pulled my Coke from the dispenser and turned around, shooting him an irritated look. Perhaps it was my familiarity with his sibling; perhaps it was just exasperation with my day, either way something made me unafraid of him. “I know seeing him wouldn’t be a crime. I’m just appalled at the idea he even thought about us. And what do you care? So some druggie gets popped in a deal gone bad. Who cares? One less piece of trash in the gutter.”

He blinked at my vehemence and frowned. “I care because it’s my job and because murder is murder.”

“But why are you harassing me? The pig killed my sister. Yes, I hated him. Thinking back, I do believe there was another person killed at the same time as her. Are you harassing their family as well?”

“I’m not harassing you, Miss Tanner.” His defenses went up and I could see that I had thrown him off his game, if only by a titch.

“Then why come around a second time?” I pressed. “Seeing Martins isn’t something I’d forget. I’d have told you about it the first time. And yes, this is harassment. What? You think this is some 10 minute conversation I can just put behind me when you leave? Sorry. Wrong. It sticks with me for days, weeks, reminding me of her and what happened and how it screwed up my life, not to mention hers!”

My rant finished and we stood staring at each other for a time, then he backed away in a surrendering fashion. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s not fair for someone to drudge up these memories if you don’t want them. Please forgive the intrusion.” And with that, he walked away.

#

That night I got to work early and did homework for about 20 minutes until my father entered the office with someone in tow. Looking up, it shocked me to find Collin beside him.

“Someone to see you, dear.”

“Thanks Dad.” I faked serenity, tossing my books aside.

My father left the office with little else than an appreciative nod in Collin’s direction. Obviously it pleased him to see this new development of a social call on my behalf.

Once the door shut, leaving us alone, I dropped my calm demeanor switching over to protective and defensive. “What are you doing here?”

Collin shrugged and stepped forward. “It seemed unethical to take your phone number from the school records so I went to your apartment but you didn’t answer. I figured you must be here.”

“The ‘how’ is very interesting, but not what I asked.”

He nodded and sat down in an adjacent chair. “I don’t know why I’m here, really. And yet, here I am.”

“You’re lucky my father doesn’t know you’re a professor. For that matter, so am I, I guess.”

“I was counting on you not telling anyone.”

“That’s true. Who am I going to tell? The dead people?”

We sat staring at one another for a moment then he cleared his throat and leaned forward. “I was surprised to find Cohen in class today.”

“I’ll bet. I assume he’s one of your brothers. I thought you said they didn’t live around here.”

His eyes held mine. “Did I? I must have misheard the question. I take it you know him. At least, I assume so since he came to see you.”

“Looked like he came to see you.”

“He said ‘hello’. He told me he had intended on leaving before I got there so as not to disrupt, but then you arrived late.”

“So what are you getting at?” I asked.

“I just find it interesting he was there to talk to you. Do you know him well? Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

“Because I don’t know him. At least not well.”

“Then why does he want to talk to you?”

“Well, you know him better than I do, I assume. Why do you think?”

He considered me for a moment. “Was he questioning you about something?”

“That would be the logical conclusion.”

“About what?”

I sighed and leaned back on the couch, stretching my neck. In my head, I couldn’t help but picture the anonymous surveys from the beginning of the semester. Why had I ever admitted to murder? “Why do you care what he’s questioning me about?”

“Are you involved in something illegal?”

What a question. Every answer that didn’t implicate me in some way would be an outright lie. But did I really have a choice? “No. Why would you think that?”

“Why else would he question you? It has to connect with one of his cases.”