Our Husband Page 16

  "Do you think I asked for this? Any of this?"

  He started the engine. "Duck so the cameras won't get you."

  "I'm not going to duck leaving my own home."

  Tony backed the vehicle down the driveway, frowning in the rear-view mirror at the reporters staked out at the edge of the street. "I oughtta take out a dozen of those clowns."

  "Oh, yes, let's give them another feature story."

  He grunted. "At least they're staying out of the yard."

  "That's because Butler tossed a microphone and threatened to break a camera."

  She felt his curious gaze on her, but she concentrated on maintaining a noncommittal expression for the cameras to capture. If she smiled, she'd look too happy to be in mourning, if she frowned, she'd look murderous. They crowded close, mouths flapping, arms raised. Tony goosed the gas to scatter the group. Once the car cleared and he accelerated, she leaned her head back.

  "So what's up with that?" he asked.

  "With what?"

  "With you and Butler?"

  "Don't refer to us in the same sentence, please."

  "I think he likes you."

  She scoffed. "No offense, big brother, but thinking has never been one of your strong suits."

  Tony shrugged. "I'm just saying he seems like a nice guy."

  "Well, in case you haven't noticed, looks can be deceiving."

  "Not everyone is a schmuck like Raymond."

  Natalie closed her eyes. Among the list of words that described Raymond, "schmuck" was downright kind.

  "Butler got a good start on cleaning up your garden. I noticed he left his tools, so I guess he's planning to come back."

  "Can we change the subject, please?"

  "He feels bad about the way the two of you met."

  "Good."

  "He's trying to make it up to you."

  "What are you, his messenger boy?"

  Tony rubbed the back of his neck. "When did you get so sensitive?"

  "Last Wednesday." The day the entire world went insane.

  "Sis, you're going through a rough time, and Butler is trying to help. We both are."

  "He's making things look worse by hanging around, and you're making things look worse by working for him. You two are a regular cavalry, all right."

  "We both believe you're innocent. That has to count for something."

  She bit her tongue in concession. After all, Tony had been on his best behavior since arriving on her doorstep. And when the house snapped, crackled, and popped at night, she was comforted by his presence in the bedroom down the hall. A sudden swell of affection crowded her chest. She marveled that the tables had turned, that she was the troubled one and he, the composed one. A simple truth hit her—in a world where she could be arrested for murder, Tony could certainly make it through law school.

  "When will you see Masterson again?" he asked.

  "He and I are meeting Thursday morning so I can take a polygraph test."

  "Damned unpredictable machines."

  She nodded against the headrest. "Masterson tried to talk me out of it, but I insisted."

  "By the way, did you let him know you were making this little trip?"

  "I didn't think it was necessary."

  He grunted, signaling that she'd made yet another mistake in her new role as an outlaw.

  She lifted her head. "I still can call him."

  "And if he told you not to go?"

  Natalie sighed. "I'd go anyway."

  "Then don't call."

  She lay her head back again, content to obey, loath to converse. But when the Cherokee weaved across the centerline, eliciting a staccato honk from an oncoming car, she grabbed the armrest. "Do I need to drive?"

  "Sorry," he said, his face sheepish. "My license was reinstated while I was in the halfway house, but I'm still adjusting."

  Of course—he hadn't driven in two years. She stared at the inky black cross on his left forearm, trying to imagine a place where the days were long enough to provoke self-tattooing. "What did you miss most?"

  He grinned. "Besides women? A private bathroom. And Big Macs."

  "Well, that explains all the take-out bags."

  "And I thought of you pretty often. The care packages were always the highlight of my month."

  She swallowed hard, concentrating on the dashboard. Paltry snacks and toiletries and magazines—why hadn't she sent them every week?

  He laughed. "My cellmate Coolie wanted to marry you."

  Her own laugh was hollow. "Little did we all know, I was single." Then she sobered. "Was it terrible?" A practical question, considering she might be cooling her heels in a similar facility soon.

  "Ah, most of the time it wasn't too bad," he said, his voice philosophic. "Coolie would freak out occasionally—Granada invasion flashbacks—and when the weather was bad, we missed rec time in the yard. But I got caught up on my reading, and I taught myself Spanish."

  "Really?"

  "Si, señorita." He grinned, and she decided with his dark good looks, the language would suit him. And serve him well if he someday practiced law. When he someday practiced law. She had allowed Raymond to convince her that Tony was a lost cause. Remorse coursed through her, binding her chest. "I'm sorry I didn't visit, Tony."

  His mouth twitched. "I'm sorry I missed Rose Marie's funeral, although I have a feeling she would have somehow channeled one last reprimand through the minister."

  "She wanted more for you. So did I."

  "You always could see only the best in people."

  "To a fault, obviously."

  "Were things bad between you and Raymond?"

  She sat up. "Not bad, a little stale maybe. That's what makes this whole thing so hard to swallow. I sensed he was becoming more distant, but I never imagined..." Natalie studied her wedding ring. It had become a band of fiery lead on her finger, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to take it off. A form of denial, she knew. Denial that the man she'd fallen in love with was an elaborate illusion. An illusion that she had bought into because it was easier to believe than to get close enough to him to discover his demons.

  Easier at first. When his breezy charm and superficial small talk had begun to wear thin and she'd pushed for more intimacy and depth in their marriage, he had retreated. Retreated to Ruby, she realized now, whose demands were undoubtedly less complicated. Determined not to cry, she inhaled deeply. "He should have just told me he wanted a divorce."

  Tony hummed his agreement. "But a bigamist gets off on the thrill of deceit. I knew a guy in lockup who had eleven wives scattered all over the country. Swore he loved them all, said he got jazzed by the thought of all those women waiting for him to come home."

  Her stomach rolled. "That's absolutely prehistoric."

  "Yep." His laugh surprised her. "He had as much sex as he could handle, but the guy also had high blood pressure, ulcers, insomnia, and migraines. Said prison was an absolute relief."

  She had to smile. "He's in prison for bigamy?" Masterson told her that offenders were almost never prosecuted, an appalling statistic.

  "No, the guy was running an auto theft ring. And he's in no hurry to get out, since all his women found out about each other. Hell hath no fury and all that jazz."

  Women could be just as vengeful as men, she agreed. Perhaps more so, when their hearts had been compromised. Which was why she made such a likely suspect. Beatrix was too harsh, Ruby was too naïve. To Detective Aldrich, she must seem like the just-right candidate.

  Natalie turned to the window and watched the landscape slide by, the burgeoning foliage a blur of lime green and pale yellow. Birds swooped in multiples, some invisible radar system allowing them to remain in perfect synchronization. Clouds shifted, forming tomorrow's weather. Time marched on, just as if her life hadn't been ripped at the seams.

  "What are you thinking?" Tony asked.

  She spun the ring on her finger. "I'm wondering what would have happened if Raymond had lived."

  "You'll make
yourself crazy if you play that game."

  Natalie chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering when her brother had gotten so smart.

  He reached over to squeeze her hand, surprising her. "Don't worry, sis. Things will work out."

  Ah, the optimism of an unindicted person. But she squeezed back.

  "So tell me about this girl Ruby," he said, sounding very lawyerlike.

  Gorgeous, pregnant, gorgeous. "The newspaper said enough, I believe."

  "Yeah, but do you think she killed Raymond?"

  "I don't think Ruby could kill anything but time."

  "Well, if you didn't do it, and she didn't do it, that only leaves the old broad—what's her name?"

  "Beatrix."

  "Yeah. Think she killed him?"

  Natalie lifted her head. "She was certainly bitter enough throughout the funeral to warrant suspicion, but when I called her last night with the list that Butler gave me—"

  "Of the stuff that Raymond hocked?"

  She nodded. "It was strange. She seemed almost protective of Raymond, as if she didn't believe he would steal from her, even after... even after."

  "So?"

  "Well, I'm no expert, but she didn't react like a murderess."

  "And how would that be?"

  "Well, I don't know—cynical... vengeful. She sounded embarrassed."

  "Maybe she's a good actress."

  Natalie bit her lip. "Maybe."

  "She had a shitload of motive—she found out her husband had married two other women."

  "Not to mention the life insurance money."

  "Even better," he said, his enthusiasm growing. "Why not arrest her?"

  "Maybe because I had a shitload of motive, too. Being angry that he married two other women could also apply to me, plus I'm the beneficiary of a life insurance policy on Raymond. And the ICU log incorrectly reflects me being alone with Raymond—Masterson is working on that angle—and don't forget the ouabain."

  "Okay, the drug thing." He scratched his head. "Well, hell, if Rose Marie can grow it, can't other people?"

  "Trust me, Beatrix isn't the gardening type. Besides, she only found out about me and Ruby when she got to the hospital. She would've had to be carrying the poison with her to kill him at the hospital."

  "Maybe she already knew about the two of you and was only waiting for an opportunity to off Raymond."

  Interesting theory. "But she seemed as surprised by the bigamy as Ruby and I were."

  "Like I said, maybe she's a good actress."

  "Maybe." She pressed on her temples. Why was she having to perform these mental gymnastics? Weren't the police supposed to pursue justice?

  "Headache?"

  "Yeah."

  "Hungry?"

  "Not really."

  "Oh, come on. I see golden arches up ahead. Let's get something for the drive."

  She laughed. "Okay, maybe a milkshake."

  When they left the drive-through, Tony abandoned the subjects of Raymond and the other wives and the charges against her to reminisce about their childhood.

  "Remember the tree house we built?"

  "Sure I do." Their daytime play dwelling and nighttime hiding place when their father drank and their parents fought. At puberty, Tony had tired of the child's hiding game and hit the streets looking for trouble, leaving Natalie to huddle alone in the tree house beneath a moldy quilt, reading Judy Blume books by flashlight.

  "Wonder if it's still standing?" he asked, his voice almost wistful.

  Neither one of them had returned to their childhood homestead in the distant suffocating Missouri town in years, not since the death of their mother. "Probably, if the tree is still standing."

  "Wow, that seems like a lifetime ago."

  "It was." And adulthood was supposed to be better than this. "I took white poinsettias to the cemetery last Christmas."

  "How was the grass? You know how Dad was about his lawn."

  "No bare spots."

  "That's nice." Tony swallowed a mouthful of hamburger, then shifted in his seat. "I've never told you, Nat, but I really admire what you've done with your life."

  She stared at him. "My life is a train wreck."

  "No. My life is a train wreck. Did a lot of thinking in the joint. You threw yourself into your books, and I threw myself into the gutter."

  "Neither of us wanted to be at home," she murmured.

  "I know. You knocked yourself out trying to please them, and I knocked myself out trying to make them angry."

  "And neither one of us succeeded," she said, fighting a bittersweet pang.

  His laugh was humorless. "They were too wrapped up in their own misery to notice us."

  "I was fortunate to have Aunt Rose Marie."

  "Yeah, she was a good old gal. Did you know she wanted you to go live with her?"

  Natalie blinked. "No."

  "When you were thirteen. I heard Mom and Dad fighting about it. Dad thought it was a good idea, but Mom had a fit. Said she needed you at home."

  Needed her. Not loved her and wouldn't consider letting her daughter live elsewhere. Needed her to do chores and keep the house running smoothly. "Mom had problems."

  "Yeah—Dad."

  "Although she did seem to have more energy after he passed away." Which must have been too much of a shock to her lethargic system, considering she'd succumbed to a stroke mere months later. Natalie drew deeply on the straw in her milkshake to counter the moisture gathering in her eyes.

  "Damn shame the way they wasted their lives," he said. That's why I decided to get my ass back in school. I already finished nine college credit hours."

  "That's great, Tony." She turned what felt like her first genuine smile in ages in his direction. "If I get out of this mess, I'll help you all I can."

  He shook his head. "When you get out of this mess, all I want is your moral support."

  A stab at being a sister again was a surprising silver lining in the dark cloud hovering over her. For the rest of the drive, she asked questions about his goals, trying to distract herself from the memory of driving this route only days ago, poised to confront Raymond with knowledge of his debt, only to walk into an emotional ambush.

  But the gray-and-navy hospital loomed innocuously. Early Sunday afternoon traffic consisted of families visiting loved ones and new parents going home, bouquets and balloons abundant. She stared at one pink-cheeked mother, her arms full of a blanketed baby, and Natalie's mind fast-forwarded to Ruby holding Raymond's daughter or son. She wanted to hate the unborn baby, but the infant couldn't be blamed for the stain surrounding its conception.

  Her eyes burned as she and Tony walked into the emergency waiting room. So familiar. So nauseating. The strawberry milkshake was getting its second shaking for the day within the walls of her stomach.

  As luck would have it, the admissions nurse was the same woman who'd given her directions to Raymond's room a few nights ago. Of course, now she realized the woman had been acting so strangely because she'd already given directions to two other women who claimed to be his wife. Now, as she approached the woman, heat rushed to her face.

  "May I help you?" the nurse said automatically, then squinted, as if she recognized Natalie. Two seconds later, she did recognize her, no doubt boosted by the media coverage. "You're that doctor—"

  "Was Ruby Carmichael brought here a while ago?" Natalie cut in.

  The woman floundered for a few seconds before confirming that Ruby had been brought to the hospital.

  "Is she still here?"

  "Let me check," the nurse said, then yanked up the phone, stabbed in a number, and turned her back for a hurried, hushed exchange. When she hung up, she said, "Ms. Carmichael is still here."

  "Are she and the baby all right?"

  The nurse swallowed, her eyes bouncing around the room as she fumbled beneath the counter. "Have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."

  "I need to see her," Natalie said, now imagining the worst. Ruby hemorrhaging, scared, alone. How
could she even have hesitated to come to the girl's aid? "I need to see her now."

  "Er, right this way."

  Chapter 22

  Against the white sheets, Ruby looked like Sleeping Beauty, pale and ethereal, waiting to be resurrected from semiconsciousness. She'd been crying and Natalie wouldn't have been a bit surprised if she'd found her sucking her thumb. Natalie's eyes inadvertently filled with tears of helplessness. Damn Raymond for the impossible position he'd left them all in!

  As if she felt Natalie's presence, Ruby's eyelids fluttered open. She squinted, then focused on Natalie standing at the end of the curtain, and smiled. "I knew you'd come," she whispered.

  The quiet despair in her voice tore at Natalie, but she put on her best doctor's face. "It took me a while, but I'm here."

  "My baby—"

  "Is fine," Natalie said quickly, moving to the side of the bed. "You didn't tell me you were diabetic."

  Ruby touched the gauze taped across the back of her left hand. "I didn't know it was so important."

  "But now you do?"

  Ruby nodded, looking like a contrite child, then held up a brochure. "Diabetes is a leading cause of death and disability in the U.S."

  "Didn't your family doctor tell you those things when you were first diagnosed?"

  She shrugged. "That was a few years ago, and he mostly talked to Mom. I just remembered that I had to watch my sweets and take my insulin every day."

  "How many times a day do you inject?"

  "Four, sometimes five."

  "You should talk to your doctor about having a small pump installed in your stomach to regulate your insulin."

  "That's what Raymond said."

  Well, at least the bastard was dispensing good medical advice in addition to romance. "You were very lucky this time."

  Ruby teared up, her blue eyes swimming. "I've never been lucky before. Maybe this baby is my good luck charm."

  Natalie smiled. "Maybe. Is there anyone I can call for you? Family? Friends?"

  "No." She sat up and pushed her hand through her red hair. Dazzling, even in the shapeless, faded hospital gown. "When can I go home?"

  "The nurse told me you're free to go if you have a ride home."