The Housewife(65)

“No,” I say with a finality that invites no argument. “She didn’t. She couldn’t have.”

“So how—”

But then, like a flash going off in my brain, a name comes to me. “Oh God.”

Marie’s eyes are wide. “What?”

“Greenwood. That’s Veronica’s last name, the police said so before.”

“And?”

“And,” I say, my heart hammering with excitement, “Ms. Greenwood”—I make air quotes—“was the client Roy had an appointment with when Deb was murdered!”

“He had an appointment with his lover?”

“Yes!”

She covers her mouth with her hands. “Maybe she knew what he’d done. Maybe she was going to tell the police that he’d killed Deborah,” she says. “So he had to kill her too.”

“That must be why!” I say. “Tomorrow. We’ll tell them. He did it, he killed them both!”

“But are you sure you want to wait? What if he does something to you tonight?”

“He won’t. Not now, with the police involved.”

Even in the dim light, her face looks deadly pale. “You’re not scared?”

“Well, he’s not going to shoot me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She gives me a thin smile. “You say that, but he’s got a rifle in his office, and what about what he did to Veronica?” She bites her bottom lip. “Maybe we could hide it somewhere? Just to be on the safe side?”

“The gun? He would know it’s gone in a heartbeat.”

“What about the box of cartridges?”

She has a point. If Roy goes crazy with the rifle… You hear about things like that all the time. Husband goes crazy, shoots up the house and its occupants. I picture police cars outside, red lights flashing, TV crews jostling for a good angle, Marie and me sprawled on the hall floor, blood splattered all over the walls.

“Yes,” I say. “God, yes. Thank you. It could be good if he didn’t have access to ammunition.”

“I don’t know where the key to the cabinet is. Do you?”

“Yes.” I stand up. “You really think of everything, Marie. Thank you. Do you mind keeping the box with you? I don’t have a safe hiding place.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll have to make sure he’s asleep before I get the key and bring the box up here. I’ll leave it outside your door. Roy never comes up here.”

She breathes out. “Good. I’ll sleep better.”

“I should go, in case he wakes up.”

At the door, she says, “Mrs. Davies?”

I turn around. “Oh, come on, Marie. Please. Call me Jodie.”

“Jodie.” She wrings her hands together. “Do you think he knows the thumb drive is missing?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. He took everything out of the safe, but I don’t think he knows to look for the drive. It might take him a day or so to figure out what’s missing. ”

She shudders as she holds the door open. I step out into the corridor.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“What for?”

She rubs her thumb on the edge of the door, as if to clean off an invisible stain. “For being a right bitch to you.”

I soften toward her. If you’d told me twenty-four hours ago that I would grow to like Marie—or even worse, that Marie would turn out to be my only ally—I would have told you to get your head examined.

“Thank you.” Then I add, “Same.”





40





I walk quietly down the flight of stairs to my room. I bend down to check on Roy. He’s asleep, breathing loudly. Silently, I take the key from its hook, pat my pocket to make sure I have the spare key to his office, and close the door behind me.

I’ve only gone down a few steps when I sense something that makes me stop. Did I hear something? I’m not sure. I look down over the banister, and I’m sure I can see a change in the dimness of the light, like shifting shadows.

I stop and listen. Everything is quiet. I keep going down the stairs, silently, carefully, my feet bare on the carpet, and then I stop.

There’s someone in my kitchen.

I tighten the belt of my robe, wishing I was wearing something else, and peer around the door which is once again ajar. Mikey is standing in front of the open refrigerator with his back to me. A silhouette in jeans, sneakers, a hoodie with the hood down, dark unruly hair. He takes out a plate of leftover quiche, closes the door, turns around, and jumps at the sight of me. The plate slides out of his hand and smashes on the floor.

He is frozen with fear. I put my finger on my lips. Shhh. I listen to see if either Roy or Marie heard, but the house is silent.

“It’s okay,” I mouth.

He doesn’t reply. He looks terrified, frozen in place. Probably because he’s seen what I can do.

But I am shocked again to see how incredibly thin and small he is. And I remember with a start what Dolores hinted at the other day. It’s not allowed. She wouldn’t take a single morsel of the food she spent over two hours preparing for Meredith and her friends. So what are they allowed to eat? Does Meredith give them rations? I think of the fuss she made when I got there. “I bought everything for you.” Like she was doing me a favor. Like she had considered asking me to cook her lunch and bring everything to make it.