Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 104, Nos. 4 & 5. Whole Nos. 633 & 634, October 1994

I’ll Never Leave You by Donald Olson

© 1994 by Donald Olson

To his considerable output as a short-story writer and contributor to nonfiction journals, Donald Olson has recently begun to add film scripts; his beautifully constructed short stories seem to beg for dramatic adaptation. EQMM has a handful of new Donald Olson stories to offer over the coming months...

“I’ll never leave you,” he said, not menacingly, yet giving the impression of flexing even the muscles of his cavernous brown eyes, those eyes that had first attracted her, eyes with the depth and serenely deceptive tenderness of certain animals of the cat family. His name was Guy Subjack and he was the athletic director of Moon Brook Golf and Racquet Club where Irina had first met him.

From where they were parked Irina could see the rolling greens of the golf course and just beyond, across the highway, the equally lush expanse of Lakeview Cemetery.

“Guy, don’t talk nonsense,” she said, wondering why they must all behave so tiresomely when it was over.

“I love you,” he said.

“Darling, we had an affair, not a romance.”

“I’m only a dumb jock, tell me the difference.”

“Romance is what we’re all looking for, but we settle for affairs — after a certain age, when we realize the search is hopeless.” This pricked his anger. “God, you make me sound like something you picked up at the market. Something fresh and appealing to the eye that didn’t quite suit your taste when you got it home.”

“So some of us have fickle appetites, sorry.” She didn’t wish to be cruel, she wasn’t trying to hurt him, but she’d had no idea he was going to prove so difficult. For two weeks she’d been trying gracefully to end the affair and his puppy-dog persistence had begun first to bore and then to alarm her. Calling her at home when she’d made it clear that was a no-no, and if not exactly stalking her, seeming always to be just around the comer from wherever she happened to be. Of course, she couldn’t avoid him at the club, but she resented having to give up its social activities for fear he would make a scene in front of her husband.

“You made a mistake if you thought you could treat me like all the others,” he said truculently. “Take my word for it, you can be hurt, too.”

“Is that a threat, Guy?”

“Take it any way you like. You’re not dumping me.”

“You’re young, Guy, but that’s no excuse to act like a child. Face it. It’s finished.”

“There’s only one way it’ll be finished. If one of us ends up over there.” He waved a hand toward the cemetery.

“That’s not funny. In fact, this whole thing ceased to be amusing when you began taking it seriously. You can drop me at the club. I’m going home.”

“Time to get hubby’s din-din, is it?”

“Oh, you do remember I have a husband.”

“I’m not the one who forgets it.”

He let her out of the car at the club’s backdoor, away from prying eyes. His hand closed around her wrist. “I meant what I said, Irina. Think about it.”

She jerked her hand loose. “Don’t ever call me again, Guy. Don’t ever speak to me.”

The detective’s name was Armand Daversa. He was young, heavy-browed, bull-shouldered, with searching green eyes.

Dr. Russell handed him a cup of coffee. “My wife just woke up. She’ll be down soon as she’s dressed. I gave her a mild sedative last night so she’s still a bit groggy. As I am, for that matter.”

“Understandable, sir. Before your wife joins us perhaps we might run over what you told me last night. By the way, have you had a chance to determine if anything’s missing?”

“Nothing, so far as I can tell.”

“Odd.”

“Decidedly.” Darwin Russell’s keenly intelligent features were set in an expression of anxious bewilderment. “As nothing was stolen and my wife was not sexually assaulted, it poses a quandary as to the intruder’s motive. Maybe what he did to Irina was out of spite because he found nothing worth stealing. We don’t keep valuables in the house.”

“Not likely he’d have done what he did even before ransacking the house. And binding your wife and leaving her in the car with the engine running in a closed garage would be carrying spite a bit far.”

“Then how in God’s name do you explain such a gratuitous act of violence? Unless he was a maniac.”

“Maniacs aren’t usually so methodical. He could as easily have killed Mrs. Russell right here in the house. The only apparent reason for lugging her out to the car would have been to fake a suicide, which is ruled out by his having tied her to the wheel and gagged her.”

Russell refilled the detective’s coffee cup. “I’m not a religious man, but I can’t help feeling some force of providence was responsible for my coming home from the seminar to pick up that file when I did. If I hadn’t... dear God, I don’t even want to think about it.”

Daversa rose as Irina appeared at the door. Russell hastened to take her hand and lead her to the sofa. She was very pale, which in no way detracted from her beauty. Her cloud of dark chestnut hair was gathered loosely in a bun on her neck, her gold-flecked eyes deeply shadowed.

“You’re sure you’re up to this, darling?” Russell inquired anxiously, still holding her hand.

“Quite sure. Coffee, please, darling.” But then she seemed reluctant to release his hand.

Daversa promised to make his visit as brief as possible. “We got most of what we need last night. I’m wondering if after a night’s rest you might have remembered anything in clearer detail?”

Irina’s hand trembled as she lifted the delicate china cup to her lips. “I’m sorry. It happened so fast. I sat down to watch television here on the sofa shortly after Darwin left for the seminar. It was a rather noisy sitcom. I didn’t hear anyone break in the backdoor. He was just suddenly there, behind me, grabbing me. All I saw before I fainted was that frightful stocking mask over his face. He didn’t say a word. When I came to I was in my car, unable to move. The engine was running. I knew I was going to die. There wasn’t a prayer Darwin would be home until late... much too late.”

She put the cup down shakily and reached for her husband’s hand. Tears came into her eyes. “When I heard a sound and turned my head to the window it was like — like seeing God’s face.” A trace of color stained her cheeks, as if she feared the detective might find her words foolishly extravagant.

“Afraid I can’t live up to that image,” Darwin chaffed her, “but I trust I won’t be rebuked quite so often in future for my absentmindedness. If I hadn’t forgotten that file...” He too looked on the point of breaking down.

A confusion of emotions had kept Irina awake a good part of the night, despite the sedative. She knew it was her duty to tell the police about Guy Subjack, blaming herself for not taking his threatening remarks seriously, but if she were to do that, Darwin would learn of her affair with Guy and that was the last thing she wanted to happen; following the exposure of an earlier affair, she had made a solemn vow to Darwin that it would never happen again.

Daversa was asking her if the keys were already in her car; she admitted she was usually careless about leaving them in the ignition when the garage was shut.

“We’ve no enemies,” Darwin insisted. “It’s utterly senseless, like something one sees on TV. Tell me frankly, Lieutenant, what are your chances of catching this guy?”

Daversa spread his hands. “Ask me again in a few days. I might be in a better position to give you an answer.”

Later that afternoon, on the flagged terrace overlooking the garden, Irina lapsed into a long abstracted silence. Beside her, Darwin was trying to read, but as usual those particular sounds of summer to which his ears were so sensitively attuned kept distracting his attention. He found himself watching a dragonfly patrolling the edge of the lily pond, its five eyes scouting for food to satisfy its insatiable appetite; if food were not available it would be quite capable of devouring part of its own body. A keen amateur etymologist, Darwin was knowledgeable about insect lore.

Irina’s own two eyes betrayed nothing but a hunger for something she was unable to define until presently, with a heavy sigh, she spoke her husband’s name. “I’m so frightened.”

“Don’t be. It’s over now. You must try to put it out of your mind.”

“How can I? I feel as if I’ll never enjoy another moment’s peace of mind.”

She felt sure that by now Guy Subjack must know his attempt to kill her had failed, but how could one predict what a person deranged by love or by hate might do? He must know there was no way the police could prove he’d attacked her even if she gave them his name, so it wasn’t likely he’d panic and run away. Irina could not shake off the fear that he might try again. She remembered how his voice had rung with conviction when he’d said the only way they’d be finished was if one of them ended up in the cemetery.

“You know I’m here to protect you,” Darwin said.

“Now, yes, but what about tomorrow and the day after? When I’m here alone.”

He smiled and reached for her hand. “My dear, you’re not going to be alone. I’m taking a couple of weeks off from the clinic. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone right now.”

She squeezed his hand. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t have blamed you, you know, if you’d simply left me there to die.”

“Irina!”

“No, I mean it.”

“How could you even think such a terrible thought?”

“Because I’ve been a rotten wife. Maybe it took a brush with death to make me realize how lucky I’ve been. And how unfairly I’ve treated you.”

This outburst of remorse was entirely sincere. The experience had shaken her to the depths. That boredom and restlessness had driven her into a series of casual brief affairs she could understand, but that she could have been so blind to the possibly dangerous consequences of her folly made her wonder if she herself could be emotionally unstable to the point of madness.

“Nonsense,” he said. “You’ve been a perfect wife.”

There was no trace of satire in the remark, which made her feel even more guilty. “By taking you for granted? By deceiving you?”

“If that’s true, I’ve only myself to blame.”

“You’re much too forbearing, you know that. To think if it weren’t for you...”

He rebuked her with a smile. “I don’t want your gratitude, foolish girl.”

“I will try to be a better wife, I promise.”

“Have I often complained?”

“No. Maybe that’s been part of the problem.”

“Then we shall both turn over new leaves.” He looked again at the dragonfly, so beautiful and voracious. “Believe it or not, there is a bright side to all this if it teaches us to value what we have.”

Two days later the phone rang when Darwin was at work in his study.

“Irina? Are you alone?”

Guy’s voice, which had once so excited her, produced only a thrill of horror. “You must be insane!” she cried. “If it weren’t for my husband I would have told the police about you. And I will, I swear I will if you ever call me or try to come near me again.”

Not waiting for his reply she quickly hung up the phone and hugged her trembling body.

A week later Daversa paid them a visit. Darwin greeted him at the door. Irina was working in the garden.

“I’ve put off contacting you, hoping I’d have something. Unfortunately, we’ve simply nothing at all to go on.”

“Irina will be disappointed.”

“How is she?”

Darwin pulled a long face. “I’m worried about her. I can’t leave her alone, not even for an hour. She’s in a constant state of nerves. The slightest noise alarms her. She jumps whenever the phone rings, and she can’t sleep.”

“It’ll take time.” Daversa hesitated. “Dr. Russell, as long as we’re alone I feel obliged to ask a rather indelicate question. Has your wife given you any cause at all to suspect she might have held something back?”

Darwin looked at him with astonishment. “Good lord, what are you implying?”

“Sir, it clearly appears from all the evidence that someone came here with the deliberate intention of killing your wife. Someone, I’m assuming for argument’s sake, who knew she would be alone. So the question remains: Why did he want to kill her? I must ask you this: Could there be someone in your wife’s past who might bear a grudge against her? A murderous grudge?”

“Impossible. We’ve been married fifteen years.”

“She’s considerably younger than you, sir, and a beautiful woman.”

“A disgruntled lover, is that what you’re suggesting?”

“I take it you find the notion unlikely?”

“I find it preposterous.”

The detective looked at him as if he thought the doctor’s denial might be a bit too fervent for belief.

“I’m sorry, but you do realize we’re fishing in the dark.”

“A maniac, Lieutenant. It’s the only possible explanation.”

Daversa had no sooner left the house than Irina appeared in the doorway.

“Thank you, Darwin.”

“You heard?”

“Why didn’t you tell him about Alex?”

“My dear, that was two years ago. We agreed never to mention it again.”

“I’m sorry, but I am grateful for your not telling Daversa about him. As if Alex could ever have done anything like that. The idea’s ludicrous.”

Darwin took her in his arms. “This can’t go on, you know. Eventually I’m going to have to return to the clinic. You simply must try to put all this behind you.”

“No! You can’t leave me alone. Not yet.”

“Irina, we must resume a normal life.”

She tried to find the courage to tell him the truth, but could not; better to risk her life by remaining silent than the death of her marriage, the marriage that now meant everything to her, by speaking out. “You’re right, I know, darling. Please, just be patient with me.”

“My dear, haven’t I always been?”

The days passed with no visible sign of improvement in Irina’s mental state; a full-fledged anxiety neurosis threatened, with the usual physical manifestations: depression, chronic sleeplessness, and weight loss. Her eyes were shadowed and wore a constantly haunted look. At her insistence, she and Darwin were again occupying the same bedroom; even with the windows locked she could not bear sleeping alone. Their social life was nonexistent.

Darwin tried to reason with her. “You must begin seeing people. You can’t live like this.”

“I don’t want people,” she retorted bitterly. “I’ve had too many people. You’re the only one I need. The only one I can trust and feel safe with. Promise you won’t ever leave me.”

“As if I ever would.”

“God knows I gave you every reason to.”

“Past history, my dear. I love you. I always have. Did you suppose I’d let Alex ruin our lives?”

“Before Alex there were others. You know that.”

“But after Alex you gave me your word you would never be unfaithful again. That was enough for me.”

Finally the day arrived when Darwin knew he must take a firm hand.

“I want you to depend on me, Irina, but your dependence is becoming almost pathological. You simply must pull yourself together.”

She pleaded, implored, and finally raged, but he was resolved. He must return to work. When neither tears nor words would sway him, Irina insisted she could not stay in the house alone without protection.

“My dear, you’re not suggesting I hire a bodyguard, surely.”

“A gun. You must buy me a gun. I must be able to defend myself if anything like that happens again.”

He could not discourage the idea, and so he bought her a gun and taught her how to use it, though with the gravest misgivings. He was troubled by disturbing visions of Irina mistaking some casual caller for an intruder and perhaps shooting an innocent man. Yet possession of the weapon did seem to produce a calming effect on her nerves. She was less easily agitated, and at night, with Darwin at one side and the gun in the bedside table at her other side, she was able to sleep again.

The news of Guy Subjack’s death was as shattering to Irina as the car crash that had taken his life. That it might have been an accident the police, according to news reports, were unable to disprove, although there were no skid marks, the weather was clear, and there was evidence Subjack had been drinking heavily before leaving the club.

Only Irina knew the truth. A letter arrived at the house the morning after Guy’s death.

My dearest Irina, I told you the only way it would ever be over between us was if one of us ended up in the cemetery. I don’t want to go on living without you. Maybe this is the only way I can be sure you’ll never forget me. Guy.

As Darwin had known Guy Subjack from the club, his failure to mention the man’s death might have seemed peculiar to Irina had she been less overwhelmed by the most acute feelings of guilt. That Guy had been hinting at suicide rather than murder during that last meeting had never entered Irina’s mind, and how could she not have assumed he must have been her assailant when the attack followed so closely upon that final meeting? Now she was left with the conviction that Darwin had been right, the intruder could only have been some demented stranger.

But it was the conviction that Guy had loved her, loved her as perhaps no other man but Darwin ever had, that excited the most excruciating sense of guilt. The knowledge that she was responsible for the death of a young man who had loved her with a truly romantic passion was almost too burdensome to bear.

That night as they were getting into bed Irina’s sense of remorse overpowered discretion. Almost without forethought she told Darwin about the affair with Guy Subjack and how it had ended.

This emotional upheaval seemed not to disturb Darwin. Calmly, he removed his watch and placed it on the stand beside the bed.

“You mustn’t let it upset you, my dear. And I’m not blind, you know. I was quite aware of your relationship with Subjack.”

Irina recoiled with a startled look. “But we were so careful!”

“Not careful enough.” There was a certain unmistakable smugness in his tone.

“And you said not a word!”

“We both said a great many words, after Alex. You see, I really did believe you, Irina. That Alex would be the last.”

“And I meant it, darling,” she cried. “I truly did. But then I met Guy and... You do believe me now, I know, that it can never happen again. After that awful experience I could never look at another man but you. I’m a different person now. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Darwin regarded her with a sorrowful look. “I wish I’d known it was over between you and Subjack. But then it might not have made any difference. It might have happened again with someone else. You’re rather like the dragonfly, my love, beautiful, alluring, and voracious. I decided I had to try something drastic. You see, I believed it might possibly change everything if you felt you owed me your life. It worked far better than I’d dared hope.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’ve been honest with me, Irina. I must be honest with you. I staged that ‘intruder’ attack to bring you to your senses. I hope you’ll forgive me as I’ve so often forgiven you.”

When he’d finished explaining precisely how he’d disguised himself and faked the attack, Irina appeared too stunned to speak. Her face had gone whiter than he’d ever seen it. Without a word she turned her back to him and opened the drawer of her nightstand.

When Daversa had finished conferring with the coroner in the bedroom, he rejoined Irina downstairs. She remained in the same trancelike state of immobility, which might easily have been mistaken for the calmest serenity, as when he’d questioned her. He wasn’t sure it would do any good to pursue his inquiries before morning; nevertheless, he asked her if she was still certain it was the same man.

Irina turned her gaze from the lacquered cabinet where she’d hidden the gun. She nodded. For a moment Daversa almost thought he detected the wisp of a smile on her lips, but then it was gone.

“Oh yes, Lieutenant. Don’t ask me how I can be so certain, but I am. I would stake my life on it. The same man who tried to kill me was in that bedroom.”