Wife-In-Law (22 page)
“Then stop the chest compressions,” the operator told me.
“Stop the chest compressions,” I ordered Kat, who promptly collapsed, sobbing, over the man she’d just killed.
“Help is on the way,” the operator said. “Try to remain calm and stay on the line with me.”
Inanely, I nodded, as if she could see me.
“Is the victim breathing?” she asked me.
“No.” The word came out hoarse. “And his eyes are wide open.” Dear Lord. I’d wished Greg dead a thousand times, but I hadn’t really meant it.
Please God, You know I didn’t mean it.
Please God, You know I didn’t mean it.
Kat pulled Greg up against her and started rocking, holding the corpse of her illusions along with him, an eerie moan escaping her as shock set in.
“Just try to stay calm,” the operator told me. “Who else is with you there?”
“His wife. It was a horrible accident.” Blood was everywhere now, filling the space between the island and the cabinets. I didn’t know a person could lose so much blood.
“Help is on the way,” the operator soothed. “Dispatch places them at less than ten minutes out. Just try to hang on.”
“Ten minutes might as well be ten years,” I ranted.
“I know it feels that way,” she said, “but your friend needs for you to be calm.”
My friend. Did she mean Kat or Greg? “My
friend
is his wife, and she’s devastated.” I’d never seen Kat so pale, and her eyes were glazed and she rocked and mourned. “I think she’s in shock.”
friend
is his wife, and she’s devastated.” I’d never seen Kat so pale, and her eyes were glazed and she rocked and mourned. “I think she’s in shock.”
“If she seems faint, have her lie down and elevate her feet.”
“She’s holding her husband on the floor,” I said as the sound of distant sirens finally reached my ears. “I don’t think she’ll let go.”
“Then let her be,” the operator said. “But if she passes out, just lay her gently on the floor until she comes to.”
In the blood?
This couldn’t really be happening.
For all her feistiness, Kat was the gentlest soul on earth. She couldn’t have killed Greg, but there he lay, dead as a carp.
Rattled, I hung up the phone and went to kneel beside her, circling her shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay,” I comforted, knowing it wouldn’t. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Kat came to herself, her expression furious. “How can you say that? He’s dead, and nobody’s gonna believe it was an accident. Half of Sandy Springs and Buckhead knew you were coming here today, and why.” She rocked him again. “Nobody will ever believe it was an accident!”
I pressed my forehead into her hair. “Yes they will, because I’ll tell them what happened. You had no intention of hurting Greg. They’ll have to believe me.”
“Right,” she said bitterly. “His ex, the woman he cheated on too. They’ll probably think we were in it together.”
I shook Kat. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear another word out of you. When the ambulance gets here, let me do all the talking. That’s an order. This is going to be okay, but you have to let me do the talking.”
Kat crumpled against me, her expression as dead as Greg’s. A harsh laugh escaped her. “Okay.” She closed her eyes and pulled Greg tighter to her. “It’s gonna be okay, honey. It’s gonna be okay.”
The sirens were upon us, but when I went to the front door to let them in, I saw it wasn’t the ambulance, but the police.
Damn.
Think. Get this straight. I only had one chance to get it right.
Anything you say can and will be used against you.
Bracing myself, I opened the door as the officer got out and hurried toward me.
“Thank God you’re here, Officer. It was a horrible accident. I’m afraid he might be dead.”
The officer spoke a code into his shoulder mike, then strode past me.
I could hear another siren approaching, but knew the ambulance was too late.
Thank heavens, I had the wherewithal to keep my mouth shut, and I prayed Kat would do the same.
The cop entered the kitchen, then halted, taking in the bloody scene: the photos of Greg and his hussy scattered on the island and the floor; Kat hugging Greg in the blood; the minced celery on her chopping block; the bubbling pot of soup on the stove.
The policeman stepped gingerly into the blood, then bent to feel for Greg’s carotid pulse, but didn’t find one. Standing back up, he backed out of the blood and got his tablet and pen, then asked, “What happened here?”
I answered before Kat could. “Some friends brought me evidence that my ex-husband, here, was cheating on my best friend, who is currently my wife-in-law, so I brought the evidence over to show her. She always makes soup when she’s upset, so she started chopping things up for the soup. Then Greg came home unexpectedly and started screaming at me for telling her. He got so mad, he grabbed a knife and tried to kill me, but Kat turned around with her knife still in her hand, and he ran right into it. It was a horrible accident. She never meant to hurt him.”
“Just the facts, ma’am,” he said, conjuring
Dragnet
.
Dragnet
.
I looked him dead in the eye. “That’s exactly what happened.”
In the assessing silence that followed, I heard the fire department ambulance careen into the cul-de-sac with siren blaring, then brake and roar into the driveway. Doors outside slammed, and equipment jangled as they rushed up the stairs and into the open front door.
“Back here,” the cop hollered.
The EMTs hurried past him to assess Greg.
“Ma’am,” the female EMT told Kat gently, “I need for you to step back so we can do our work, please.”
I circled the island to draw Kat to her feet from behind. “Come on, honey. Let them do their work.” Kat lurched erect, then promptly passed out. I barely managed to keep her from falling. “Help. Need some help here.”
The second paramedic and the cop hurried over to help me lay her down beyond the blood, then the paramedic started working on her. “She’s in shock. Please step away, ma’am,” he told me.
Helpless, I did as he asked, the full impact of what had just happened finally hitting me like a Hummer at ninety miles an hour.
I felt the policeman take my arm as if it were someone else’s. “Maybe you ought to sit down, ma’am.”
Nodding, I sank to the breakfast table chair he brought up behind me.
Light-headed, I bent my head into my hands and leaned forward.
This was really happening. Greg was really dead, and it was all my fault. I never should have gotten involved. If I hadn’t brought those pictures over, he’d still be alive.
The father of my children was dead on the floor, and it was all my fault.
God, how was I going to tell the girls?
T
hings went downhill from there. When the paramedics’ heart monitor and remote EEG showed no activity, they said Greg was gone, which sent Kat into fresh waves of sobbing.
hings went downhill from there. When the paramedics’ heart monitor and remote EEG showed no activity, they said Greg was gone, which sent Kat into fresh waves of sobbing.
Before they could transport his body to the hospital to be officially declared dead, a Sandy Springs detective arrived, along with the forensics team, and they started taking samples and pictures. When Kat asked to go with Greg’s body, the detective gently insisted we wait in the living room. So I wrapped her in a beach towel to cover the blood then sat beside her on the sofa, hugging her as she moaned her grief and remorse.
When the stretcher went by with the body, I shielded Kat’s vision and started talking loudly in an effort to distract her, but she went so still I knew she’d noticed. Half an hour later, a female forensics officer came in and told me the doctor at the hospital had declared Greg officially dead, which was hardly news to anybody. Kat heard her, but didn’t react.
Almost an hour passed before the detective came in and asked us what happened. I repeated what I’d said to the first policeman, and Kat confirmed it, but the detective regarded us with frank suspicion.
“I saw it happen,” I told him. “It was a horrible accident. But if Kat hadn’t stopped him, God knows what he’d have done to me with that knife.”
He stood, his expression unreadable as he closed his notebook. “We’ll need official statements from both of you ladies. It shouldn’t take too long. We’ll transport you to the station.”
The station? As in, “you’re under arrest”?
I tried to keep the panic from my voice. “Please, can it wait till tomorrow? You can see, she’s beside herself. Please let me get her out of here and cleaned up. I just live across the street. I swear, we won’t go anywhere else.”
The detective frowned.
I finally had the wherewithal to remember. “Kat is the widow of Zach Rutledge, a distinguished DEA agent. Please, could you just cut her a little slack, for Zach’s sake, if nothing else?”
“Zach,” Kat moaned, closing her eyes. “Oh, Zach.”
The thin blue line worked in her favor. “Okay,” the detective said. “We can take your statements tomorrow.” He handed me his card. “If you think of anything you forgot to tell us, please give me a call.” He looked to Kat. “We’ll need those clothes as evidence before y’all leave. I’ll have a female officer help collect them.”
I nodded, holding on to his card. I could fit into one of Greg’s shirts and sweatpants. “Thank you so much, Officer,” I said.
Disaster averted—at least for the moment. I’d find Kat a lawyer once we got to my house.
I turned my attention back to her. “Come on, honey. Let’s get out of these clothes.”
Still without focus, she followed obediently. Her skin was cold as ice as I steered her toward the stairs.
“Mandy,” the detective summoned, and the female police officer followed us with two large plastic evidence bags, through the master and into the bathroom.
Oblivious to our presence, Kat stripped out of her bloodied things, insensible of her nakedness as she jerked off her bloodsoaked pants and panties in front of both of us, then wrenched off her blood-spattered peasant top and bra. The policewoman bagged everything, then looked to me.
“Just a sec.” I went into the master closet, closed the door, then stripped down to the skin. When I went over to Greg’s clothes, I caught the scent of him, and it almost sent me over the edge. But I got a grip on myself for Kat’s sake, and put on a dark business shirt and navy sweats.
When I emerged proffering my clothes, Kat was wearing some of her baggy old clothes and Birkenstock sandals.
The policewoman bagged my clothes, then pointed to my shoes. “We’ll need those, too.”
I handed them over.
I circled Kat’s shoulders with my arm. “Come on. We’ll get you to my house and you can get clean, without all these people around.” I gathered some gowns and underwear for her to sleep in.
Still blood-spattered on her face and icy hands, she moved like the living dead. I tried not to think of what was going through her mind, focusing instead on the tangible things we had to do.
Slowly, we headed for the front door. “Before you know it,” I murmured, “a month will have passed, and this will all be behind you.”
Her vision cleared for an instant, tears welling in gratitude, then she sank back into her stupor.
When we reached the veranda, I looked outside to see that the neighbors had gathered, murmuring in speculation, on the sidewalk, and there were two news vans setting up their cameras.
Damn. We’d have to hustle to get to my house before the cameras were up and running.
“Come on, honey. We need to get to my house. Don’t pay any attention to the people out there. Just step it up, so we can make it to my house.”
Kat recoiled, registering the whole debacle, but I pulled her onto the porch with me. “Come on. You can do it. Just get to my house, and everything will be okay.”
Her body obeyed, despite the fear and revulsion on her face.
The neighbors buzzed louder when they saw the blood on her face and hands, but we managed to get past the camera crews unrecorded, thank God.
Once safely inside my house, I ran Kat a hot bath in my spa tub, laid out her summer gown and underpants on the vanity, then sat outside with the door ajar to wait till she finished bathing. “Do you need anything?” I called over the running water.
“No.” She turned off the taps. “I can do it.”
I heard her sigh with relief as she sloshed into the welcome warmth. Then silence.
“Are you okay?” I called to her, worried that she might do something foolish, either consciously or unconsciously.
“No,” she said harshly. “I’ll never be okay again.”
“Yes you will,” I said, leaning my head back against the wall. “It’s just going to take time, and it might get worse before it gets better, but you are going to be okay. I swear it on my life.”
I heard her scrub the washcloth against the soap, then start rubbing harshly at her fragile skin as if she could wash away what happened along with the blood.
Then she turned on the hand shower to wash her hair, rinsing and rinsing and rinsing, followed by another protracted silence.
“Kat?”
“I’m not going to drown myself,” she said, her voice wooden. “Though the thought occurred to me. But I couldn’t do that to my kids.”
The kids. God help me, I had to call them, and soon, before this got onto the grapevine. With the Internet these days, gossip made it round the world in an instant.
I heard Kat open the drain, then get out of the tub, and I sighed with relief.
It took her forever to dry off and dress, but as long as I could hear her, I knew she was okay. Finally, she emerged in her gown, her hair twisted up in a towel.
I stood. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
Blank and docile, she followed me into the guest room and climbed into the bed that had been Amelia’s.
I got some water, then gave her a mild sleeping pill I had left over from a trip. “Here, take this. The paramedic said you need sleep.”
She took it, then lay back and closed her eyes, pale as death, herself.
I closed the blinds and curtains, leaving the room in cozy dusk. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
“God, I hope so,” she whispered, then turned onto her side, facing away from me.
I waited till I was sure she was asleep to close the door and go into the kitchen to make the dreaded calls.
The cordless phone felt like lead in my hand as I looked up Little Zach’s cell number in my directory, then dialed.
He answered right away. “Well, hey, Miss Betsy,” he answered with his usual good nature.
“Oh, Zach,” I managed. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but there’s been a terrible accident at your mother’s, and Greg is dead.”
“Mom. Is Mom okay?” he shot back.
“She’s devastated, but she’ll be all right. I finally got her cleaned up and into bed at my house. She’s sleeping now.”
“What happened?”
I told him as clearly and briefly as I could.
When I got to the stabbing, he groaned into the receiver. “Oh, God, no. Poor Mama.”
“I wish I’d never gone over there,” I said bitterly.
“You were being a friend,” Zach countered. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. Nobody could. Like you say, it was an accident.”
“It was.”
“Did the police come?”
“Yes.” I told him what had followed. When I was done, he said grimly, “I’ll be there on the next flight.”
“Come here, not to your house,” I warned him. “It’s a horrible mess over there, and I don’t want you to have that image burned into your brain for the rest of your life.”
I flashed on the blood and chaos, prompting a stab of nausea. “I’ll go over and clean things up as soon as the police are done.”
“No,” Zach said. “You’ve been through enough already. Stay there and look after Mom. There are special cleaners for situations like this. I’ll call the police and find out who they recommend. With luck, I can get somebody to come over right away and take care of it.”
I gave him the numbers on the card the policeman had given me.
“Just take care of Mom till I can get there.” He sounded so much like his father.
“I will.”
“And don’t let her talk to anybody without a lawyer. An old friend of mine does criminal defense. I’ll call him and have him contact you.”
Thank God. “Good. I’m worried. I don’t think the detective believed us.”
“So much for innocent until proven guilty,” Zach said. “And never mind the eyewitness.” He let out a sharp breath. “I’ll call some of Dad’s friends and see if they have any connections with the Fulton County DA. Maybe we can make this go away.”
I hadn’t realized how heavily this all weighed on me till “Little” Zach shouldered some of its weight. “We just need to make them see the truth.”
“They will,” he said with a conviction I didn’t share.
“I never should have gone over there.”
“This is not your fault,” he repeated. “It’s Greg’s.”
True, but that was cold comfort.
“I’ll call when my plane lands.” He hung up.
It was a relief to know that Kat’s son was on the case, but I still felt queasy about calling the others. I looked up Sada’s number and dialed. When she didn’t answer, I hung up, only to have the phone ring immediately with her name on the caller ID.
I clicked onto the call. “Sada, it’s Betsy. I’m afraid I have some terrible news.” I took a deep breath, then told her. As I began to explain, she peppered me with irate questions about why I’d gone over there in the first place, then accused me point-blank of being responsible.
It was one thing to feel guilty, but another entirely to have Sada blame me, point-blank, for what had happened.
“Sada, if it were possible, I’d go back and never leave my house this morning, but that can’t happen. What’s done is done. Your mother needs your help now, not blaming and accusations. This is the hardest thing she’ll ever have to go through, besides losing one of you. Please try to find it in yourself to support her and stay calm.”
“I will,” Sada snapped, “but I still think this is your fault.”
“Come to my house when you get here,” I instructed. “Zach’s having the mess cleaned up at your house, but till then, your mother’s better off over here.”
“We’ll see about that,” Sada bit out, then hung up on me.
I closed my eyes, sick inside, but I still had to make the hardest call of all. Amelia would understand, but Emma … Emma was her father’s pet, and vice versa. This would destroy her.
I hit the speed dial for her home phone, and it rang four times before she answered with a cheery “Hullo?”
“Emma, honey, it’s Mama. I’m afraid I have some terrible news for you. Your daddy’s dead.”
“Daddy?” she shrieked. “No! I just talked to him last night. He can’t be dead!”
I heard Bill ask, “What’s happened?”
Emma dropped the phone onto the covers, then I heard a muffled, “My daddy’s dead!” followed by wrenching sobs.
Bill comforted her, then picked up the phone. “Hello?”
Thank God for Bill. “Bill, this is Betsy. I’m so sorry, but there was a terrible accident at Kat’s, and Greg is dead.”
Blessedly, he didn’t ask for any details. “We’ll be right there,” he said over the sound of Emma’s sobs.
“There’s no need to rush,” I told him. “Kat’s here, sedated. There will have to be an autopsy before we can plan the funeral. Kat’s staying with me till things are worked out.”
“Under the circumstances, I don’t think Emma will want to see Kat for a while,” he said. “We’ll call you later, after she’s had some time to absorb this.”
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