A Clean Kill

Twenty-three

At six thirty, Andrew threw back the quilt exposing Alison to the cold morning air. "Hey," she mumbled. She felt like a land mine had gone off in her head.

She'd taken too much coke the day before. First because she was upset about Maddy—and Derek— and then because she wanted to delay the inevitable crash as long as possible. By early evening she hadn't been able to avoid it any longer. She'd started drinking and taking painkillers. She'd finally slept, but now the war was on in her body again. And pain always made her focus on everybody else's faults. What she saw at the moment was her naked husband yawning widely and scratching his hairy belly. It never failed to provoke her.

Unlike her, a perfectionist, Andrew didn't care that he was a mess and getting fatter every day. The rolls started in his jowls and moved down to his neck. His shoulders were padded and soft, and his belly was so big he said he couldn't see his dick anymore. Although he was very critical of her, he didn't think his own weight was a problem. In fact, he thought it was. funny. His belly shifted as he planted his feet on the floor and stood up.

Alison turned away and felt for the comfort of her dogs, but they weren't there. No wonder she was cold. Plus Andrew had opened the window. Even though it was June, it was still cold at night. He'd turned off the furnace for the summer, and it was just freezing in the room. She reached for the quilt. Her arm was so heavy she could hardly lift it. She struggled to remember what happened last night. In the haze of an alcohol and Vicodin hangover everything was fuzzy. Then she remembered the important things. Maddy was dead, and Derek had been her lover. She groaned.

"You're drinking again. I hate that," Andrew said coldly.

"No, it's Maddy. I'm so sad for Maddy." She started crying.

"Get up. We have to talk," Andrew said sharply.

Yes, they did, Alison thought, but not right now. Painfully, she pulled herself to a sitting position. "Can't we do it later?"

"No, we can't. Why didn't you wait up for me last night?"

Now she remembered. "I did, but you never came."

"Alison, you were out cold by nine thirty. Sacked out on the fucking sofa. I don't like you drinking like that. It's terrible for the girls." His voice rose angrily.

"It was not nine thirty. I was watching the eleven o'clock news when my eyes closed. I couldn't stay up any longer. It was a terrible day. And you left me alone," she said in a little-girl voice. Alison was sure he hadn't come home at nine thirty. She'd been talking with Lynn and Leah then. He was trying to confuse her, the way he always did to get the upper hand.

"I had to find Wayne a criminal lawyer." Still naked, Andrew moved to a chair by the bed so he could face her.

"Why?" Alison was confused.

"He's acting like a complete idiot. He was cooking for the detectives last night at Soleil. I told him to close the restaurants for a few days, but all he could think of was the food spoiling. It doesn't spoil in a day, does it?"

"He didn't close the restaurants?" Alison was shocked. Then she said, "If Soleil was open, why didn't we go?"

"Don't you ever listen? I told you Wayne was playing chef to the cops. His wife gets herself murdered, and food is all he can ever think about."

Look who's talking, Alison would have said if she hadn't felt so rotten.

Andrew ruffled his bushy hair. "The fool didn't even think of calling me until after they were gone—can you believe that?"

Alison tried to absorb what he was saying. Why would Wayne keep the restaurant open after Maddy was killed? Why would he cook for the cops? She shook her head. "I feel so sick, Andrew. I think I have the flu."

He made a disgusted face. "You do not have the flu. You have a hangover."

She didn't answer. It didn't matter what she said to him. He never believed her anyway. "Why does Wayne need a lawyer?"

"In a murder case no one should talk to the police without a lawyer present. Haven't I told you that before?"

No, he'd never told her that before. No one they knew had ever been murdered. Without a dog, she had to resort to hugging a pillow. She happened to have talked with a policewoman for hours, and he knew that. "What's the big deal?" she asked meekly.

"You can make incriminating statements. You can hurt yourself or other people." He said this angrily, as if he were the one she could hurt.

She couldn't remember what she'd told the Chinese detective, but she didn't think she'd said anything that could hurt anybody. Just that one tiny thing about the coke. And she never actually said anything about it. "I didn't talk to all the police, just one person. And she was very nice," she said slowly, referring to April Woo, the woman whose card she had put in her purse to call if she had any other thoughts. She had a lot of thoughts, and she didn't want to be alone with them.

"What are you, a half-wit?" Andrew said harshly.

Alison didn't grimace at this assessment of her. She'd heard him say it all before. She sighed because it was so difficult to talk to a person who'd been to law school and always thought he was right.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, trying to focus and be good so he wouldn't be angry with her.

"I want you to stop drinking, okay?" he said more gently.

"Okay," she promised. That was not a problem. She could do without alcohol whenever she wanted to.

"And I want Lynn out of the house today." He ticked number two off his list.

"What?!" This order caused Alison to bolt right out of bed, even though she was shaking all over. She stood in front of him, swaying with a head rush.

"You heard me. I want you to fire her this morning."

"But why, Andrew? I thought you liked her." Alison was completely stunned. She almost forgot she was talking to a naked man. She too busy holding on to the bed.

"You're always telling me she's lazy. You had reservations about her capabilities all along. And you told me you think her friend is a murderer," Andrew said. "That's good enough for me."

"But what does that have to do with it?" she said numbly. She had no memory of saying those things.

"I don't want our household dragged through the press. I don't want to be involved. This is an order, Al. I mean it. Get her out of here."

"I can't fire her," Alison whined, finally letting herself collapse back on the bed.

Andrew got up and turned his back on her. "I have to get going, and you have to do it."

"But I can't, Andrew. The girls like her." She couldn't think of anything else to say. She was sick. She couldn't take the girls to play school. Damn! She had the flu, and he was walking away from her. She didn't like his naked back any more than his burgeoning belly. Shit! He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Alison lay back against the pillows. Her head ached terribly. She'd forgotten all the times she'd said she wanted to get rid of Lynn. And yesterday she particularly hadn't wanted someone who looked like a killer taking care of her children. But that was yesterday. Since talking with Lynn and Leah last night, she didn't really feel that way anymore. She thought Lynn was a caring person, always there when she was needed. But Andrew meant what he said. Sometimes she could get around him, but not about something like this. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted to do the right thing. She closed her eyes.

She didn't know how much time passed before he came out of his dressing room, wearing a dark suit and tie, ready for the office. She opened her eyes and he still looked angry. "I mean it about Lynn. Do you want me to take care of it?" he said, raising the subject again.

"No, no. I'll do it." Alison thought she could be nice about it. Andrew could never be nice about anything.

"And nothing to drink today, okay?"

"It's no problem, honey." She had no doubt she could do without alcohol. Piece of cake. She would pull herself together, and never do coke again. She hated the stuff and needed some time off of it anyway. She'd call Derek. He'd give her his great vitamin drink that helped her recover, and she'd get well fast. Just a few minutes in bed, and then she'd get going. She made her plan and closed her eyes.

Andrew left without saying anything else to her. At seven o'clock the girls tumbled into her bed and woke her up. "Orange juice, Mommy," Jill said. Jill was the younger one. She had pretty dark curls and big blue eyes. She was going to be a knockout.

"Hi, babies," Alison said through an aching head.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He went to the office."

"Where's Lynn?"

"Isn't she in her room?" Alison stretched, patting for the dogs. Dogs still weren't there. She wondered why they hadn't come into the room when Andrew opened the door.

"Uh-uh," Jill said.

"She must be out with the dogs. Can you make our breakfast?" Jessica asked.

"Of course, I can," Alison replied pleasantly. But do I want to? she asked herself. "Oh, shit," she muttered, and hauled herself into a sitting position where she could see her children better. Jill was jumping on the bed. Up and down, up and down. Jumping was a new thing for her. It made Alison want to scream. She extricated herself from the sheets and went to the bathroom.

Water from Andrew's shower was splashed everywhere. She didn't know how anyone could make such a, mess. She opened her makeup drawer and found her container of Vicodin tucked away with the lipsticks and colored pencils. She took two and stuffed the little zip bag in the back. Then she staggered downstairs to make the girls their scrambled eggs. While they were eating, she called Derek for the vitamin drink she needed. It was only seven ten, and he didn't pick up. She called Jo Ellen Anderson, at the employment agency, and left a message to call her right away about finding a new girl. Lynn had to go. She had several cups of coffee and started feeling a little better.