Chapter Seventeen

Other than a dead husband, Christmas dinner went off without a hitch.

Upon my return from beating the hell out of Addy’s snowman, I learned that Susan had escaped to her room in the basement, which left the table full of my “family.” Well, except for Mr. Peabody, but he fit right in, bantering with Cornelius, who appeared to be vetting him to find some ghosts that had gone missing.

My parents came back midway through the meal. My mom graced us all with a smile. “I apologize for my emotional outburst. It’s not every day that my little girl gets married.”

That surprised a laugh out of me. Several others, too.

“Hell,” Dad added, “I always thought Violet’s wedding would drain my bank account.” He raised his glass in my direction. “Thanks for saving me money, Goldilocks. I only wish I could have been there to walk you down the aisle.”

I raised my glass in return. “I wish I’d been there, too.” I would have run fast and far the other way.

By the time the dishes were cleared and the multitude of pies and other desserts were brought to the table, I was ready to find out the exact depth of Susan’s betrayal. I excused myself from the table, squeezing Doc’s shoulder when he looked up at me.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I told him.

“Violet?” My mother’s brow furrowed. “Where are you going?”

She knew where I was heading. “I’ll be good, Mom. I promise.”

“Do you want help?” she asked.

“No, thanks. This is something I need to do alone.”

I grabbed two plates, loaded them with cherry pie, and headed downstairs.

Susan didn’t answer on the first knock, but I heard something thump on the other side of the door.

“I know you’re in there. You might have a skinny ass, but it’s not small enough to squeeze through the window.”

The lock clicked and the door opened.

Susan had changed into a black sweater and leggings, reminding me of a black widow spider with her long, thin limbs. She was twice as deadly, I knew for a fact.

I held out the pie. “I brought you a piece of your favorite.” I glanced down at her gazelle body. “That is, if you eat anything besides grass these days.”

She eyed the pie suspiciously. “Did you poison it?”

I harrumphed. “I thought about it, but Mom hid the hemlock from me.”

“Thanks.” She took the plate and stood back, making room for me to enter.

I stepped into her lair, noting the open luggage on her bed. “You going somewhere?”

She shrugged and dug her fork into the pie. “I’ve worn out my welcome here.”

That was one way of putting it. “Heading any place in particular?”

“Maybe.”

I didn’t blame her for holding her cards close to her vest. I always did around her. “I hear the moon has a few openings, but we might need to weigh you down so you don’t float back to Earth.”

“Funny,” she said with a straight face.

Moving to the dresser, I leaned against it and took a bite of pie. I had a feeling I’d need every last sweet crumb to keep my bitterness at bay. “So, who was he?” When she looked at me with her perfectly shaped eyebrows arched, I added, “The man we married.”

She set her plate down on the bookshelf full of our childhood favorites. I shoved another piece of pie in my mouth as she crossed the room and stared out the narrow basement window.

“Hey.” She leaned closer to the glass, scowling. “Is that my scarf out there in the snow?”

And her hat, too. “We’ll have to ask Frosty later.”

She hit me with a glare. “That’s an expensive scarf.”

I smiled, my positivity gushing. “That’s too bad. Now quit stalling and tell me about our husband.”

She crossed her arms. “He was rich.”

“I figured that based on the amount of money he left us according to the letter.”

“And alone.”

That made sense, too. Why else would he have left gobs of cash to a woman hiding behind a false identity?

“Did you love him?” I asked.

She scoffed. “There’s only been one man I loved.”

Right, Rex. I gagged a little on Mom’s pie. What Susan saw in that pompous prick was beyond me. Sure, he was handsome, but below the surface everything was slimy and bloated, oozing with maggots.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” She gave me a brittle smile. “Marry him or use your identity?”

“Both.”

“Why not?” she said, hiding behind flippancy.

“Don’t play games with me, Susan. Not here, not now. It’s just the two of us, and I deserve answers.”

With an exaggerated sigh, she left the window and dropped onto the edge of the bed. “Back in May, I met a man in an airport bar. I was on my way to Florida for a job with a gallery down in Key West. He was waiting for a flight to go meet with a client in St. Barts.”

“That’s an island in the Caribbean, right?”

She nodded. “We spent an interesting few hours during our layovers.”

I tried extra hard not to roll my eyes. “You had wild monkey sex, I get it.”

“Actually, we didn’t. There was some flirting, but we spent the time talking about our jobs. He was an attorney who specialized in estate taxes. The conversation was actually quite mundane. Shortly before it was time for him to board, he gave me his business card and told me that if the Florida job didn’t work out and I was interested in earning a lot of money in a short time, to give him a call.”

“And you believed him?”

“No, of course not. I went to Key West, but within a week, I was bored out of my mind. One night, after a couple of drinks, I found his number in my purse. When I called, he told me the job was still available and offered to pay for my flight down to St. Barts.”

“Let me guess. High-paid call girl?”

She tried to look offended, but I wasn’t buying it. “I asked if sex was involved and he said he didn’t think it would be necessary to seal the deal, but that I needed to bring some of my more alluring outfits and a fake identity.”

A Caribbean island, an estate lawyer, quick money. All of this seemed so unreal. Like something out of a James Bond movie. “Why my name?”

“I didn’t have time to get a fake ID. I knew your details, including your Social Security number from when you had it taped to your wall in your bedroom.”

I’d been sixteen at the time and trying to memorize it for job applications.

“To be honest, I never figured this so-called job of his would amount to much, or I would have chosen a better cover than hiding behind you.”

“I wish you had. What happened next?”

“The lawyer met me at the airport, took me shopping at some very pricey boutiques, and then dropped me off at a hotel, promising to return to take me to dinner in the evening. Later, I dressed the part and dined with him at a posh club. During the meal, he took me over and introduced me to one of his clients, an old man who was eating alone. Only instead of claiming I was his date, he said I was his sister and had come down there to heal after losing my husband to a long, ugly battle with lung cancer.”

She shifted, crossing her legs on the bed as though she was practicing yoga. “I caught onto the game and within the hour was sharing drinks with the old guy in the club bar, listening to him go on and on about his life.” She groaned. “And trust me, Hooch could talk about himself until my ears bled.”

“Hooch? That’s the name of the man we married?” It sounded like something Harvey would name a dog.

“It was his nickname. His real name was Herman Oleander Osmond Winchester, Jr., but he preferred Hooch for short.”

Okay, Hooch it was. “Was the lawyer there with you?”

“No, he left us so we could get to know each other. The next night, I went to dinner with Hooch on my own. This went on for over a week, me flirting and listening to the old geezer drone about his long life—he was ninety-two, so he had plenty of boring stories to tell. By the end of the week, I’d learned two things—Hooch was lonely for a companion and he had lung cancer, same as my fictitious dead husband.”

I moved over to the dressing chair, pushed her clothes aside, and settled in to see how this tale ended up with Mr. Peabody showing up on our doorstep on Christmas Day. “So, how long did it take for Hooch to change his will?”

“I spent the rest of May and all of June and July wooing him.”

“Did you end up screwing him?”

She smirked. “No, Hooch only liked to watch while I took care of myself. He was long past being able to get a full erection.”

Grimacing, I tried to forget that detail before it took up residence in my brain and registered for a post office box. “That’s too much information, Susan.”

“You’re the one who asked.”

Lesson learned. “What about the lawyer?”

“Oh, he could still get it up and was rather large in the briefs. He probably had a good inch on Rex. We screwed around during Hooch’s naptimes, but we had to be sneaky. There were tons of cameras around the house. Like I said, he was into watching.”

I squeezed the bridge of my nose. The last thing I wanted to reminisce about on Christmas Day was Rex Conner’s nether regions. “I meant, what did the lawyer get out of you wooing Hooch?”

“If you want specific answers, then you need to improve your interrogation skills.”

“Duly noted.”

“The lawyer and I convinced Hooch to make him the executor of his estate with full access to all of his accounts.”

“And whose idea was it to include you in the will?”

“Hooch thought it was his.”

“But your lawyer pal was whispering in Hooch’s ear about your innumerable qualities, I’m sure.”

She lifted her chin at my backhanded insult. “I was a poor widow with a broken heart and two children to raise. The money would keep me and my kids off the streets.”

Errrch! Back the truck up. “Two children?”

She leaned back on the heels of her palms. “As you know, Violet Parker has two kids, so of course I had adorable twins whose pictures I kept next to our bed.”

“Your and Hooch’s bed?”

“Yes.”

“My kids’ pictures sat next to a strange old man’s bed?”

“A rich old man.”

As much as I wanted to throttle her, I laced my fingers together and let her continue. “So, the will was changed, the lawyer became the executor, and you were added as a beneficiary.”

“Me and my kids.”

Come again? “The letter only mentioned me.”

“The new will split his estate into fourths. One part to a grant program at his alma mater; another part to his only living relative—some adopted nephew he hadn’t seen in almost thirty years; a third part to Violet Parker; and the final fourth to Violet Parker’s kids, split evenly, of course.”

Nutcracker balls! This was even worse than I’d thought. “Okay, so the will was changed and then what? You kicked back on the beach and waited for him to die?”

“Yeah, pretty much. The cancer had spread throughout his body and by early July he was sleeping most of the day and night. I made sure the nurses changed him routinely and rolled him over so the bedsores didn’t get any worse. But the old bastard would not die.”

How horrible to be in such a wretched state and surrounded by gold-digging vultures.

“Don’t give me that look, Violet. You don’t understand. Hooch wasn’t a kind and compassionate man in his youth. He was a ruthless, cutthroat businessman who took great pleasure in hostile takeovers that ended with him squeezing all of the value from his acquisitions before squishing them under his heel like bugs.”

“You’re just saying that to make yourself feel better.”

“It’s the truth. He told me tale after tale about how he destroyed so many lives, grinning the whole time with glee as he bragged about his might in the business world.” She scoffed. “Do you actually think I would do this to some innocent old guy?”

Yes! Wait, let me think about that for a moment … Hell yes! Instead of answering her, I asked, “How come you ran off instead of waiting for Hooch to die?”

She wrinkled her upper lip. “Well, I got into some trouble with the lawyer.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The love kind.”

“What does that mean?”

“He fell in love with me—or so he claimed.”

I sneered. “He just wanted the money Hooch was giving you and the kids.”

“I thought so, too, at first. But it got weird.”

“Define ‘weird.’ ”

She stood and began pacing at the end of the bed. “He’d buy me jewelry, bring me roses, talk about adopting your kids as his own. He even got a tattoo of my profile over his heart with ‘Violet’ written under it.”

“Why my name? He knew your real name, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but when we screwed around, he’d call me by your name. He said it made our dirty romps more exciting.”

I covered my mouth. Oh, my poor sullied name.

“I soon realized that I was trapped,” Susan continued, still pacing. “If I came clean about my true identity to Hooch, I’d lose out on the money.” She frowned down at her hands. “And by that point I’d done some things to get your name on that will that went beyond deranged. Hooch had kinky tastes, trust me. Money can make people really unbalanced.”

I wasn’t even going to fish in that murky pond. “It sounds like the lawyer played you.”

“He had dreams of us living on the island in Hooch’s house, raising your kids—even though he knew they weren’t mine—and growing old together there.”

“So you ran.” My tone overflowed with derision.

She stopped pacing and scowled at me. “I didn’t know what else to do. I figured that if I disappeared, Hooch would realize I didn’t love him and change his will again.”

“What about all of those gross kinky things you did?”

“Well, you see, there was this guy I’d met at the clubhouse. He owned a local upscale art gallery.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You were having sex with him, too?”

She slapped her hands on her hips. “I didn’t have sex with him. I just agreed to help him with a couple of shows.”

“Fine. You helped him. What’s that have to do with this whole sordid mess?”

“I realized during those shows that I was much happier surrounded by art, and that my dream was to open my own gallery.”

Golly gee, I was certainly glad that I could play a part in Susan finding her dream career. Now I could go to my deathbed feeling fulfilled.

“The weight of that stupid will started to make it hard to breathe.” She returned to wearing out the carpet. “After another couple of weeks I’d had enough. I snuck away and took a flight back to the States.”

“But what about the money you’d sleazed so hard for?”

Her eyes narrowed. “In exchange for a few disgusting moments with Hooch, I’d enjoyed living a life of luxury in his huge beach house for months. That was good enough for me by that point. End of story.”

“But it’s not the end of the story, is it?”

“No.” She blew out a breath. “Unfortunately, Hooch didn’t change his will and the fool lawyer was still pining over me. I’d given a fake address back in the States on all of the paperwork I’d signed, which kept him at bay until two weeks ago. He’d tracked down my last address and sent me a letter, which the post office forwarded to me here. In it, he explained that Hooch had died in November and I was still in the will. He also sent me several love poems he’d written since I’d left.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s still using your name in them.”

This whole story was nutty as peanut butter frosted fruitcake. “Is that all?” I asked.

“No, he also sent me a picture of his penis. You should see it. Even you’d be impressed.”

I flinched. “I meant, is that all of your story about how I ended up married to a man I never knew existed?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

I sat there for a moment, letting it all gel in my head. “What did I wear at my wedding?”

“A sexy little nurse uniform with fishnet stockings and a pair of Valentino Garavani rockstud ankle-strap heels. Hooch really got off when I played Violet the slutty nurse with him and took his temperature with my extra-long thermometer.”

Eek! I was going to need to soak my brain in bleach for a month to clear these stains. “Well, at least I was wearing nice shoes.” I covered my face with my hands, peering at Susan through my fingers. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Besides the obvious?”

“What’s the obvious?”

She pointed at me. “You treated me differently.”

I lowered my hands. “Different from what?”

“From Quint. I could never quite put my finger on it until you came clean about Blake not being my real dad.”

“He raised you as his own.”

“Yes, he did, but you didn’t treat me like a sibling.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“When you looked at Quint, your eyes practically glowed with adoration. Then you’d turn to me and there was nothing there but hate.”

Not hate. Not at first, anyway. “That’s because you kept destroying my things.”

“I only did that because I was mad at you for not adoring me like you did Quint.”

Dear Lord in a flatbed Ford! My sister was driving on one lug nut.

“Is that why you screwed Rex? Because I didn’t adore you enough growing up?”

“I fell in love with Rex,” she defended.

Apparently, my mom had been telling the truth on that one. “How could you fall in love with someone you barely knew?”

“Barely knew?” She sniffed. “Rex and I were having sex long before the day you caught us.”

“What?”

She looked like the cat that had eaten the canary. “I guess Rex never told you about that and how we’d—”

“Stop!” I held up my hand. “So, you and Rex were screwing around behind my back before the day I caught you two in my bed?”

“Yes. We’d had sex in your bed several times before that day.”

I let that settle in my gut, waiting for the flames of anger to flare. Oddly, I felt nothing—no ire, no hurt, no humiliation. Hmmm, that was different.

“Rex liked to keep our rendezvous hush-hush. He said it made him hot thinking about me as his naughty secret.”

Of course. Rex had been into all kinds of stupid sex games. I’d donned a few silly getups myself back then upon request. Memories flashed through my mind, my cheeks warming at my stupid naiveté. Ah, there was my old friend, humiliation. Welcome back.

I returned to Susan and the here and now. “And you fell in love with him?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t think him screwing around with you behind my back was a red flag when it came to a long-term relationship with the rat bastard?”

“Rex told me he loved me. That he was going to break it off with you, but he wanted to let you down easy.”

That dickhead had been playing both of us.

“Enough about Rex.” I stood from the chair. “You need to fix this mess with the will.”

“That’s what Mom said, too.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I made her cry.”

I held back a snort. Hell, I’d made our mom cry more times than I could remember. She’d bawled buckets when I told her I was pregnant. What surprised me was that causing Mom’s tears seemed to bother Susan all of a sudden. Apparently even black widows have hearts.

I looked at her luggage. “Are you running away again?”

“I’m going back to St. Barts.”

“Why?”

“Mom told me I have to make things right by you.”

Hmm. Susan’s history when it came to anything involving me raised some doubts. How could I trust that she wouldn’t go and screw up things even more?

But before we went any further, I wanted to address something else. “You need to keep your hands off of Doc.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hold your breath. I saw him with the kids this morning while they were playing with their presents. I’m not going near that.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you after your past with my boyfriends?”

“Those other guys were ticking time bombs. I’m surprised you couldn’t see it.” She glanced at my hair. “Then again, you were always an easy mark for charmers, falling for anyone spewing compliments about your curls.”

I let that blast about my hair fly over my bow. “And you were merely helping me out by sleeping with them?”

She shrugged. “If they hadn’t shown interest, I would’ve backed off. But you kept choosing two-timing losers. What was I supposed to do? Let my sister be the butt of their locker room jokes?”

“Please! You took pleasure in screwing them behind my back. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“Pleasure? Other than Rex, one of them was okay in the sack. Another was like a monkey. He went off before he even got it out of his pants.”

“Wait a second! How many of my boyfriends did you sleep with?” Before she could answer, I held up my hand again. “You know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. My point was, you took pleasure in hurting me.”

“Didn’t we already go over this? Must we beat it into the ground?”

I’d like to beat her into the ground with a big ol’ … I clasped my hands together, looking at her luggage again. An idea popped into my head. Insurance, of sorts, that she’d clean up this mess. “Let’s make a deal, Susan.”

“Why would I be interested in a deal with you?”

I ignored her sarcasm. “If you get me and my kids out of this mess, free and clear, I’ll help you lure Rex back.” All I had to do was get him onto her sticky web and then she could scuttle in and immobilize him with a bite or two.

Her gaze narrowed. “Why would you do that?”

Because I wanted to kill two birds with one stone. A big stone that was strapped to the end of my new mace. A pointy stone would be best. Unfortunately, Cooper insisted that murder would get me jail time, so I’d have to settle for manipulating Susan and Rex into leaving the Black Hills of their own free will.

I smiled, my positivity shining like a beacon through the shitstorm. At least, that was the look I was trying to fake. “Just call me a sucker for true love.”