Nelia opened the door to her third-floor apartment and then slammed it behind her. She eased onto the marigold chenille sofa and stared at a bare patch on the armrest. Had that always been there? Oh, well. Beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to furnished apartments.
She moaned and put her head in her hands. It was a lot harder to see Drayco than she’d thought it would be. Perhaps her reasons for avoiding him the past four months weren’t all that clear anymore. Perhaps it mattered and perhaps it didn’t or maybe she was going to hell for all those thoughts she was having and knew she shouldn’t.
When she’d told her roommate Gary earlier she was going over to see Drayco, Gary looked him up on the computer and uncovered some newspaper articles of Drayco from his previous cases. “Hubba hubba,” was his sole reaction.
And when she’d told Gary about the late Andrew Gilbow and the shooting and fire at the warehouse, he’d taken Drayco’s side. “The turd deserved to die. If you ask me, he didn’t even deserve a mercy killing. He should have died in fiery flames here on earth and roasted in the fires of hell for all eternity.”
With a sigh, she took her head out of her hands and fell back against the sofa.
A garbled male voice wafted out of the bathroom, and she glanced up to see Gary brushing his teeth as he asked, “That good a day?” Or at least, that’s what she thought he’d asked. It sounded more like “Sat gouda hay?”
“Tell me again why I’m not insane to think I can do this. Law school’s bad enough on its own. And I had to go and think I can combine it with a job. Make that two jobs.”
Gary strolled to the kitchen sink and spat out the toothpaste. “I never said you weren’t insane. As a matter of fact, I think you are certifiable.”
“Thanks for that. I feel so much better.”
Gary grabbed some bottled water from the counter and brought her one, too. “I also didn’t say being insane wasn’t a good thing. Hell, Mendel, the father of genetics was called insane. So was Semmelweis, the guy who discovered the link between germs and disease. One of Thomas Edison’s teachers called him mentally ill, and everybody thought Tesla was cuckoo.”
“You’re saying I’m in good company?”
“Guess it depends on how you define ‘good.’ Semmelweis was eventually committed to an asylum because nobody believed him, and Tesla was a bit of a nut case, scared of germs and pearls. Of course, Tesla also believed women would become the dominant gender and rule over mankind like queen bees. So, buzz buzz, darling.”
Nelia laughed. “Now I really do feel better.”
Her renewed good mood lasted all of five minutes until her cellphone rang, and she saw her husband’s number. Should she ignore it? Yeah, that would go over well. “Hi, Tim. Hope your day hasn’t been too bad.”
“That new home assistant we hired to make meals for me is terrible. She actually tried to feed me mussels. Doesn’t she know I have a shellfish allergy?”
“Well, I—”
“And then she practically cold-conked me with the vacuum cleaner. It’s not as if she can’t see a guy in a big honking wheelchair. And when she was cleaning up, she put my meds in a different drawer. Took me an hour to find them thanks to the tremors. I know she’s not a doctor, but it doesn’t take a genius to know you have to take MS meds on a set schedule.”
Nelia bit back a retort she’d probably regret later and instead replied, “Would you like me to find someone else?”
“Then I’ll have to train someone new. No, I just want this person to do her goddamned job the way she’s supposed to.”
“Maybe we can get Barbara back.” That was wishful thinking. Barbara had been a saint and tolerated Tim as well as anyone until he barked at her one too many times. Nelia doubted they had half the amount of money it would take to lure Barbara to return.
Tim growled at her, “If you were here more, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
“This isn’t a new situation for us, Tim. We’ve had this commuter marriage thing for the past few years. You couldn’t move to Cape Unity, and I couldn’t get a job in Salisbury. And that’s just the way it is. Besides, Sheriff Sailor’s been amazingly supportive about everything. Not too many bosses would be.”
“Yeah, well, now I’ll hardly ever see you, will I? Unless that’s your plan all along with this latest scheme of yours.”
“That wasn’t my plan at all. You know I’ve always dreamed of being an attorney—”
“Or maybe your plan is to get closer to Scott Drayco. Is that it? Because if it is, I have news for you. I’ve got spies up there in D.C., so if you do anything, I’ll know.”
Whether it was from the constant tip-toeing around her husband or her shitty week, she couldn’t stop herself. “You’re one to talk. Remember Rachel Masters? Somehow I don’t think she left her monogrammed bras in our car as souvenirs.”
“Are you accusing me of having an affair?”
“Years ago, yes. Before the MS got bad.”
“Oh, now I’m so much of a cripple, I can’t even have an affair, is that what you’re implying?”
“God, Tim. You can be a real bastard, you know that? I’m the one who’s always defended you to others, who makes excuses for your shitty attitude and cleans up the personal messes you leave in your wake. When I said for richer or poorer and in sickness and in health, I meant it. Did you?”
His tone softened. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Guess it was just missing my meds.”
She could tell by the slight slur in his voice that wasn’t the only reason. She’d have to talk with Lisa about hiding the booze from now on. “You need a good night’s sleep, that’s all. I’ll make sure Lisa knows your meds have to stay in the same location at all times. And I’ll get one of those low-riding vacuum cleaners instead. And a feather duster.”
He chuckled and rang off. When she pressed the end-call button on her phone, Gary said, “Tim drinking again?”
“Sounded more like a gin call than a vodka call.”
“Most people in your situation would be talking divorce. I think it’s admirable you want to stick together.”
She stared at him. “You do?”
“My parents were divorced. I know how hard it was on them and me. And sometimes I wonder if they didn’t regret their decision. Wouldn’t want you to make a mistake by being too hasty.”
She forced a smile. “Can’t say I ever liked hasty pudding.”
“You actually ate some of that disgusting stuff?”
“My grandmother made it once. Cornmeal mush with maple syrup.”
Gary made a face. “You almost put me off my appetite. I say almost because I happen to have stopped by DreaMed and picked up kabobs and falafel. Before you say you’re not hungry, let me remind you that you’ll need fortification before your night class.”
He was right. She did the best she could in deference to his generosity, but it didn’t get the bad taste of Tim’s words out of her mouth. Even the ambrosia of the gods wouldn’t be enough to do that.