The Widow's Walk Page 6

  Mike decided day-to-day whether he could work while battling that miserable cold. The schools hadn’t called. Was this some kind of conspiracy? Liz ran the rest of the way back, rubbing both arms, hunched forward against the wind off the bay–and the hurricane of troubles blowing her way.

  She shuddered. Eddie was going to get sick, too. She’d have to raise the heat a few degrees or risk spending even more on doctor bills and medicines. Poor Mike was still hacking . . . Liz ran to her desk, grabbed the phone, and dialed the principal at Cape Cod Tech.

  “Mr. Peabody’s office.”

  She couldn’t recall the secretary’s name. “Hi, this is Liz Keeny. I don’t know if you remember me.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Keeny. Let me put you through.”

  Within a minute he picked up. “Hello, Liz.”

  She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Mr. Peabody, I was wondering if everything was all right with my performance. I haven’t gotten any calls from anyone in the district.”

  “You bailed me out of a tough situation, and I put out the good word. But we just got this mandate to decrease spending and are trying to cover classes with our regular staff. I was in the classroom myself last week. Let me call a few principals and see what I can do.”

  The economy was whacking everyone in the butt. “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing, Liz.” He hung up.

  When didn’t she have a perpetual sense of despair, of desperation, pulling her down? Her heart pounded, her skin itched. Never in her entire life had Liz been so desperate for money.

  Elisabeth stirred. I was so desperate to stay in my home I married a man who was a stranger. Jared promised I’d be able to stay in this house.

  Liz didn’t even replace the receiver, and didn’t need to look up Marianne’s number. Three rings later, the automated system clicked on. She pushed one, for If you are an attorney or calling on behalf of one . . .’

  Sure enough, Marianne herself answered. “Ms. Hartley.”

  “Marianne, it’s Liz, Liz Keeny.” Please, please let there be good news. The check was lost in the mail and she’ll send another one right away . . .

  “Liz, I’ve been meaning to call you, but was holding off until I had all the details.” Marianne’s voice sounded like the doctor who had given them the results of Gerry’s lung biopsy.

  She wasn’t going to die a painful death, but the news wasn’t good. “What’s the holdup now, Marianne? Things are getting very difficult, and I haven’t had any income from the partnership distribution for months.”

  “I’m afraid there is none forthcoming. The independent auditor I hired to investigate Bill Jeffers found a lot of creative accounting, as I suspected. But it seems that Bill did a good job of hiding the money, too. He’s been embezzling from several clients, not only you. Now we’ve got a criminal matter involving several plaintiffs all represented by different attorneys. This is going to take a while to sort out, and it looks like we may have to opt for a class-action settlement.”

  “A settlement? I’m counting on every penny!” Her chest hurt, she found it hard to breathe, to talk.

  “Liz, please, calm down. I understand how desperate you are, but once it becomes a criminal case it’s not about just you. I have been trying to get you paid but there are so many claims against the partnership the judge has put a hold on all disbursements.”

  “Is that mother fucker in jail?” She had never used that language in her life but it seemed to suit Bill Jeffers just fine. Too bad it didn’t make her feel any better.

  “Not yet. He’s got an attorney trying to keep him out since all his assets are frozen and he won’t be able to make bail.”

  Her sadness the law firm Gerry had built was going under got lost in the anger. “What about the new partner, what the hell is his name, Saltzman?”

  “Saltzman, right. He seems to be clean and is still working. That keeps the firm solvent, but none of his income will help unless you join the class action. Under the terms of the partnership agreement your proceeds are based upon income from Gerry’s old clients. Since the firm’s reputation has been badly damaged, they’re pulling out completely and jumping on the every-man-for-himself bandwagon. You all have lost escrow, retainers . . .”

  Retainers. Oh, God, I have to pay Marianne’s installment . . . The lawyer’s words faded into Liz’s sobs. She dropped the receiver. Her fingers and toes disappeared. A fog swirled around her. She fell to her knees.

  “Liz? Liz, are you all right?” Marianne sounded like she was underwater.

  “Mary, Mother of God what’s wrong?” Mae ran into the room and skidded onto her knees next to Liz.

  Her words blended with the attorney’s frantic maydays into a cacophony, including Eddie howling from somewhere.

  Mae grabbed the phone. “Who the hell is this, and what did ya say to her?”

  Marianne’s voice through the receiver was like an old-fashioned 33 rpm record set on 78. Liz’s vision blurred, she gasped for breath as Elisabeth’s desperation squeezed the life out of her.

  “All right. I’m sorry. Let me get things under control and I’ll be sure to call ya right back. Lizzy, Eddie is alone in the high chair in the kitchen. We need to go back before he falls out. Please, get yourself together.”

  Elisabeth writhed in her own agony. Edward told me to stay here. The baby’s pitiful wails penetrated the protestations in Liz’s ears. Mae helped her up. She held onto the walls for balance. Mike had been willing to sacrifice his own well-earned retirement for her, but the Barrett Inn was lost.

  Liz paced. Her arms tight around her chest were the only things keeping Elisabeth inside. Every muscle ached. “This house was paid for using the entire lump sum from Gerry’s life insurance payments. Any savings I had was exhausted by the restoration. That partnership money would have been about $100,000.00 a year. I didn’t do anything irresponsible, did I?

  “Mike has been working his hands off, and look at the condition he’s in. He wants to sell this house and go live in his. But you and Kevin . . . Eddie . . .

  “My own son did this to me. If he hadn’t had the assets frozen when I first bought the house, I would have salvaged at least some of it.” Liz could hear herself talking while Elisabeth agitated like a washer filled to capacity on the heavy-duty cycle.

  Mae nodded like a shrink, her brow furrowed with worry. She tried to distract Eddie by tapping a rubber pretzel on his tray. “Just calm down, please. When Mike and Kevin get home we’ll all sit down and figure this out. First off, stop payin’ us right off. We live in the cottage for free and eat plenty of food. We don’t need money for nothin’ else. And the health insurance, well let it go. We’re both healthy.”

  Her insides felt bruised. It hurt to talk. “Mae, that might help temporarily, but . . .”

  “Hush. It will work out. It will. Nothing to go off the pier over, ya understand?” Mae’s grip hand tightened, her eyes filled with tears.

  “I would never do anything to hurt myself.” The way Elisabeth flailed, Liz wasn’t sure about that. But Edward wouldn’t want his son left motherless, and Elisabeth would surely settle when he made that clear. If he could. If he would.

  “Good. Now I promised to call that poor lawyer back. What’s the number?” Mae picked up the phone. “Never mind, it’s on the call log.”

  I’ll call her back later, Mae.” I have to get out of here.

  Go to Edward, now! I need to speak with Edward.

  “Ms. Hartley, Mae Fitzgerald. She’s okay, wants to talk to ya.” Mae thrust the receiver at Liz, took Eddie out of chair, and to the door. “I’ll give ya some privacy.”

  “Marianne, I’m sorry . . .” Liz was still tingling all over. Breathing too fast made it worse. Elisabeth sat on her chest, pounded on her head. “God, Liz. Me, too. Listen, you k
now I’m working as hard as I can on your behalf.”

  “I know you are. This couldn’t have come at a worse time for me financially.” She needed to get off the damn phone and up to the widow’s walk or Elisabeth was going to knock her out.

  “Liz I can prepare a letter for your creditors, letting them know about the situation. They will often restructure things so you can make payments. And, of course, don’t even think twice about my fee.”

  Her heart threatened to fly out of her throat. “Marianne, listen. I need to take a walk, to think, to talk to my husband. Can I call you back tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Are you sure you’re okay? Is Mae still there?”

  “Yes, she’s helping with the baby. Mike will be home soon.” Yeah, make it sound like she could really talk to any of them about this.

  “All right, I speak to you at ten tomorrow.”

  “Bye.” Liz punched the off button and ran down the hall.

  Mae was playing with Eddie on the parlor floor.

  “I’m going upstairs to take something for this headache and have a nap.” The lies just rolled off her tongue now.

  Mae looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Ya sure yer okay? Promise that ya goin’ to tell me if yer feeling real bad?”

  “Yes, Mae, I promise.”

  I have to get up there. I have to get up there.

  All right Elisabeth, please. What can Edward do? It’s only money. It’s only a house. Liz took the stairs two at a time and slammed her bedroom door shut.

  She slipped the dress over her head. Silk tumbled around her feet. It was always a challenge to do up the buttons in the back, but she’d worked out a system, leaving several of the lower ones buttoned when she slipped it on. Her arms were nimble enough, and so what if she missed a few or they were buttoned wrong? Just like a homeless psychotic.

  She worked the boot hook like her grandmother did a crochet needle. A hat today, it was cold. She gathered her hair up into a bun to hold it in place. Her heart was still pounding, but Elisabeth was appeased, triumphant.

  The ghost enveloped her, hijacking her body as well as her mind. Memories flickered through her head.

  The ship lurched in the wintry seas. She went out on deck to watch waves break over the bow. Sea spray crystallized by the cold stung her face. The water looked like black tea topped with a smattering of clotted cream. Elisabeth imagined Edward’s corpse beneath the surface, his face bloated, blue, contorted. She grasped the gunnels for support as the ship swayed, envisioning the mayhem when The Sea Mist sank, taking all aboard to the bottom. Had it been quick, would it be quick, if she jumped, joined him in death? Would he be there to meet her, arms open, smiling? “You’d best come below, Elisabeth. It’s far too rough to be out here.” Jared pulled up the collar of her cloak, pulled her back to life, to reality.

  His hand lingered on her neck, and when she turned couldn’t help but grimace as the stiff muscles once again went into spasm.

  He massaged her gently. “It’s cold. Let’s go inside.”

  The water was frigid. It would have been quick. After that, she'd lost her nerve. When it finally happened, she hadn’t been trying to kill herself–at least not consciously. Any sane person knows walking into Cape Cod Bay in the middle of the night, even in summer, is suicide. But Edward was calling and she had to go. Jared had broken his promise. The house would be sold. She’d be taken away from here, from Edward. Strangers would come into their bedroom once again.

  Cold wind slapped Liz out of the trance When had she walked out of her room, down the hall, and up the steep stairs? The creaky door hadn’t jogged her out of delirium. Her hands went numb, her cheeks burned.

  Ice caked on the wooden floor. Liz slipped. The rail wobbled when she grabbed on to steady herself. Cape Cod Bay–a steel gray expanse of nothingness today—roiled in the distance. A howling wind—and the ghost’s steely resolve blew away any resistance.

  Elisabeth held the hat steady in the wind and raised her chin, craving Edward’s caress on her throat. And it was there, as always. His whispers were drowned out by the gusts whipping around her. Why was it she could never hear him clearly? Even the night she died, his voice was muffled, his instructions, entreaties, admonitions kept from her. “Edward, please. Tell me what to do.” Elisabeth rattled the railing like a caged gorilla desperate to escape.

  Edward’s whisper swirled in the wind. “Go back inside where it’s safe, my love. Jared is caring for you and the baby now.”

  The wind stilled. An eerie silence closed around her. “Don’t go. Please don’t leave me!” Elisabeth pounded the top of the rail over and over.

  Pain seared up Liz’s wrist to the elbow. “Elisabeth, we must go back down.” She rubbed her arm, fought to regain control while quaking in the wind.

  “No." Elisabeth grabbed the rail again and shook it. Icicles pinged like small daggers around the high-button shoes.

  Liz’s hands and feet moulded into blocks of ice. The hat blew off her head and she grabbed as it went over the rail, fluttering like a bird into the hedges below. The worm eaten wood gave way and clattered down the roof into the front yard, bouncing off the porch onto the steps with a sickening thud.

  Liz struggled for balance and held tight to the remaining portion of the railing. Fear punched her abdomen, her knees shook, but she managed to stay upright. “You’re trying to kill me, and I won’t let you, Elisabeth.”

  She inched backward, testing each footstep on the platform to be sure it wouldn’t give way. As she turned toward the door, blessed warmth, safety, the floorboards near the broken railing splintered. Liz slid across and down the pitched roof. Elisabeth had done it again.

  Chapter 9

  The dress caught on the breaks the roofing contractors had installed. Enough to slow her down. Enough to give her a second to grab one with each hand. Just enough. Liz hung on, sprawled across the steep incline. Her feet dangled over the edge, her arms ached with effort, her hands went numb.

  The front door slammed against the house and Mae ran out. “What in God’s name . . .Oh dear Jesus. 901 Stony Brook Road. Hurry, she’s hangin’ off the roof!”

  Eddie wailed. Liz heard her son, frightened, alone, and resolved to not fall, to not die and to not leave him. Metal clanked, but she couldn’t see what Mae was doing.

  “Hang on there, Lizzy!” she huffed, and there was more clanking. “I’m puttin’ up this danged ladder so you can climb down.”

  How could Mae maneuver that huge thing?

  “Damn mud. It’s not steady, but we don’t have much of choice do we now? All right, it’s just below you. I’m goin’ to hold it in place. You ease yourself down the roof, real slow. I’ll talk you through how to find the rungs.”

  Edward will help. I know he will. Elisabeth seemed sure but the way her stomach was knotted Liz wasn’t so sure. She let her arms extend and she slid closer to the edge, grabbing onto the second–and last–row of breaks. Her arms scraped over the shingles. Only Eddie’s frantic calls kept her grip intact.

  Liz’s feet flailed. How far away was the first rung? And how would she lower herself to the second? Once she let go, there was nothing to hold onto except the gutter, which would snap under her weight. The folds of the dress tangled around her legs. “I can’t do this, Mae.”

  “The rescue will be here in a minute, and we might as well wait for them.”

  The dress! I’m wearing Elisabeth’s dress. The pictures will be all over the papers. Liz extended her arms as much as she could without letting go. Her left foot brushed the upright portion of the ladder and she flexed and rotated to try and find the rung. She’d have to let go and hope to catch it, or that Edward would catch her.

  “Mae, am I on top of the ladder? I’m going to slide down.”

  “Don’t do that, Liz. I doubt you’ll be able to stop y
ourself. Plus this thing is wobbly, and I’m afraid the whole thing will topple.”

  An emergency signal wailed in the distance. What if one of Mike’s friends was on that squad? He’d be the laughing stock of Brewster. She’d be committed. Damn you Elisabeth. Don’t you understand this is going to drive Mike and I out of here?

  Her arms and elbows sawed over the copper flashing. The physical pain paled in comparison with the emotional distress. She’d rather be found naked in the bushes than on the roof in this outfit.