Coulson's Crucible Page 10

  “Pull yourself together baby, no real damage,” Anthony insisted. He had her sit on a chair and then forced her to drink a little gin. With great effort, Vera regained some of her equilibrium.

  “It’s your own fault, Princess. You should never have brought those condoms. You know I don’t like being told what to do.”

  Vera sat quietly on the chair and watched Anthony as he paced the room.

  “Don’t ever mention condoms again, you hear? You just need to do what I say and everything will be good and go back to how it was.”

  Vera continued to stare.

  “Damn, Princess, why did you have to go and do that?” Anthony’s anger resurfaced. Vera winced; she was afraid he was going to start hitting her again.

  “I was really looking forward to seeing you today and you ruined it!” he shouted. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at Vera and put a finger under her chin, tilting her face upward in his direction.

  “Tell me it’s okay. Tell me you’ll be here tomorrow,” Anthony asked in a whisper. He sounded almost desperate.

  “Yes. I’ll be here. I promise.” Vera was too terrified to say anything else. She just wanted to get out of the motel room.

  “Do you still love me, baby?”

  “Yes, Anthony. You know I do.”

  “And if I knock you up, you’ll have my baby?”

  “Yes, Anthony, of course. I love you.”

  “I need you to prove it to me.”

  “I don’t understand.” Vera trembled in fear.

  “Get on your knees baby. Do your best. Show me how much you need me.”

  Vera almost asked now but caught herself in time. He was on the verge of going into another fit of rage.

  Feeling ill, she slid off the chair to the floor onto her knees and looked up at Anthony. He smiled down at her, pleased that even with her bruised face and eyes brimming with tears, she was prepared to do whatever he demanded. Perfection.

  Chapter 16

  Harrison wondered where everyone was when he returned home late Saturday afternoon, after a game of golf. According to one member of the household staff, his wife had gone shopping; Garret was up at Clement Falls with friends; Russell was at the park playing baseball, and his father was at the office.

  After making himself a ham sandwich in the kitchen, he headed upstairs to take a shower. When he reached the second floor, he paused a moment and rubbed his left leg. It ached. The leg had been shot up during the war, and while he still had a slight limp, it rarely gave him problems. He suspected the pain was due to the fact he chose to walk the golf course that day, instead of using a cart.

  Giving the leg a final rub, he straightened his posture and continued on his way. Turning down the hallway leading to his room, he noticed Vera down the corridor rushing to her bedroom. She had obviously entered the house by the rear staircase, and she didn’t see Harrison.

  The way Vera dashed down the hallway, as if the devil were on her tail, seemed peculiar to Harrison. Vera never ran anywhere. Picking up his step, Harrison went to Vera’s room, instead of his own, finishing the last bites of his sandwich on the way.

  When he walked into her room, he noticed her clothes strewn along the floor, leading a path to her bathroom, as if she couldn’t get undressed fast enough. Approaching her bathroom, he heard the shower running and then something else—sobs—hysterical and uncontrollable sobs.

  Silently, Harrison entered the bathroom; the door was ajar. The first thing he noticed, she hadn’t even bothered to shut the shower door, in spite of the fact she stood under the showerhead, its water beating down on her nude body while the overspray drenched the bathmat on the floor.

  It had been years since he had seen Vera’s nude body. After Russell’s birth, she had made it clear he was no longer welcome in her bedchamber, and being a man of pride he refused to beg favors from his wife. There were plenty of women cheerfully willing to give him what his wife refused.

  Vera did not realize she wasn’t alone. Harrison watched in fascination as she frantically scrubbed her body with a bar of soap, trying desperately to remove something from her skin. What it was, Harrison had no idea.

  Harrison stepped closer; then he saw it. Her body was covered with angry bruises. Someone had severely beaten his wife. Fury swelled in Harrison, and he lurched toward the shower, turning off the water with a violent jerk. Still sobbing, Vera turned to face the intruder. Both her expression and reaction indicated she was in some state of confusion.

  When Vera saw who it was, she did the last thing he expected. Instead of getting angry at Harrison for invading her privacy, Vera threw her nude, wet body into his arms, clinging onto her husband in a fit of desperation. The sobs intensified, and the pair crumbled to the bathroom floor—Harrison holding onto Vera as she clung to him.

  It seemed like an eternity to Harrison, waiting for Vera to regain some modicum of composure so she might explain what had happened. Patiently, he stroked her hair and promised that whatever it was, he would help her. Awkwardly, he reached toward the shower door as he continued to hold Vera and grabbed a dry towel from the bar, to wrap over her body. It was getting chilly in the bathroom and she was both wet and nude.

  When she was finally ready to talk, she told him everything. Vera did not leave out a single detail, nor did she make excuses for her behavior. Harrison sat quietly on the bathroom floor holding his wife, listening to her painful confession.

  Harrison was beginning to get a cramp in his bad leg, because of the awkward position, but it seemed inconsequential to what his wife had just told him. Very gently, he eased Vera to her feet, explaining to her, in the kindest voice possible, that she needed to rinse the rest of the soap from her body.

  He had her stand in the shower. Vera stood passively, her eyes looking down, as Harrison tenderly rinsed away soap residue. After turning off the water, he guided her from the shower, dried her body with a towel, and led her into the bedroom.

  Like a child, Vera let Harrison tuck her into bed. Harrison sat on the side of the bed, looking down at Vera who stared up at him with vacant eyes. Tenderly, Harrison brushed the damp hair from her eyes.

  “I think I need to call the doctor,” Harrison told her.

  “No!” She began to cry again.

  “Shh….please don’t cry, I’m here. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “You aren’t going to leave me?” Vera asked with a pitiful voice.

  “No, Vera. I’m not leaving you.”

  “But he will kill you!” Vera sobbed.

  “Let me take care of everything.”

  From Vera’s medicine cabinet Harrison retrieved two sleeping pills, which he insisted she take with a glass of water. He sat by her side until she drifted off to sleep. Picking up the phone beside her bed, he dialed his father’s private office number.

  “You need to come home, it’s urgent,” Harrison said after Randall answered the phone. His next call was to the family doctor.

  While waiting for the doctor to arrive, he explained to the household staff that Vera did not wish to be disturbed. She had taken a sleeping pill and was resting, after injuring her ankle in a fall.

  The doctor and Randall arrived at the same time. Randall and Harrison went to the library to discuss the situation while the doctor examined Vera.

  “May I come in?” Doctor Phillips asked as he opened the door to the library. Harrison sat on the small sofa while his father sat across from him on a leather chair. Both men looked toward the doorway.

  “Of course,” Harrison said.

  Just as the doctor entered the room, Russell rushed in, pushing past the doctor.

  “They said mom sprained her leg; can I go see her?” Russell asked.

  “No Russell, she’s resting. Now you just rudely pushed by Doctor Philips, please say you’re sorry and leave so the adults can talk,” Harrison told him.

  “Oh, sorry, Doc. Can I stay and listen?” Russell asked.

  “No, Russell, please do as I say. And shut
the door,” Harrison said.

  Russell gave a shrug of defeat then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. The doctor approached the two men so he could keep his voice low.

  “Perhaps, we might want to discuss this in private,” the doctor said, looking uneasily at Randall.

  “My father already knows everything. Please, tell us Vera’s condition.”

  After a brief pause the doctor said, “Your wife has been raped. There is severe vaginal and anal bruising. She tells me she just finished her period, so I doubt there’s a chance of pregnancy. I’m planning to run some blood tests, to rule out any other complications. There doesn’t seem to be any internal damage. She tells me she doesn’t know the identity of the rapist.”

  “No. She has no idea,” Harrison said.

  “Where did this happen, she wouldn’t say.”

  “Your primary concern is the health of my daughter-in-law,” Randall spoke up. “We’re already working with the police chief on this, but naturally we want to keep this quiet—for Vera’s sake. She’s already been through so much; I don’t think we want her to become the topic of local gossip. We expect your total discretion in this matter.”

  “Naturally,” the doctor agreed.

  “Thank you, Dr. Phillips.” Harrison stood up and walked the doctor to the front door.

  “Mother went where?” Garret asked the following morning at the breakfast table. His father had just announced they wouldn’t be going to church, because his mother had gone to California.

  “San Francisco. We were a little concerned with her ankle, and there’s a specialist there we want her to see,” Harrison explained. He glanced up at a member of the kitchen staff who had just entered the dining room, bringing a plate of biscuits and pitcher of gravy to the table. Silently, Harrison poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “But she didn’t say goodbye!” Russell said.

  “What time did she leave?” Garret asked. It was understood, without saying, she had been transported in his grandfather’s private plane.

  “Around five this morning,” Randall said. “We didn’t imagine you’d want us to wake you at that time.”

  “You didn’t know last night she was going? Can she even see someone today, on a Sunday?” Garret questioned.

  “It was all very last minute and I don’t understand why you’re so curious about the details. We felt she needed to see a specialist and figured the sooner she got there the best chances she’d have for a full recovery.” Harrison sounded annoyed.

  “It’s just so typical of Mother,” Garret said under his breath. Angrily he speared a piece of scrambled egg.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Harrison glared at his son.

  “She gets all dramatic over some sprained ankle. I don’t know why she refused to see Russell last night. The kid was worried about her.”

  “It’s okay, Garret.” Russell hated to hear his father and brother argue.

  “No it’s not!” Garret snapped.

  “Last night I gave your mother a sleeping pill. She was sleeping when Russell got home. Was it really so important for your brother to watch her sleep? Now who is acting all dramatic?”

  “But to just leave this morning, not even say goodbye to Russell, when he was clearly worried?” Garret asked angrily.

  “Garret, I said it was okay!” Russell tossed his fork on the table, scooted his chair back, quickly stood up, and ran from the room.

  “Now who is upsetting the boy?” Randall asked.

  “I just hate how Mother ignores him.” Garret looked guiltily at the doorway where Russell had disappeared through.

  “She doesn’t treat Russell any different than she treats you,” Harrison defended his wife.

  “No, she doesn’t, father. I’m just used to it.”

  Harrison stopped eating, closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. With forced calm, he addressed Garret. “I didn’t want to say anything around Russell, but it looks like the fall did some serious damage to your mother’s ankle. Her level of pain… well, was quite excruciating, and I really didn’t think it would be wise for your brother to see her like that. I understand you have some issues with your mother. But right now, she can’t deal with your issues. And frankly, neither can I.” Harrison abruptly stood up, tossed his linen napkin on the table, and left the room without finishing his breakfast.

  Chapter 17

  “I don’t like the idea of the Pope telling us what to do,” Charley Jones grumbled. He sat with Wally Keller in the Cliffwood Motel’s front office, drinking his second cup of coffee. “I’m Baptist, damnit.”

  Wally chuckled. “I don’t think the Pope is going to tell us what to do.”

  “Kennedy is a damn Catholic. And I know how it works. Those Catholics do what their Pope says, and before you know it some foreign Pope is going to be running this country!” It had been a week since the presidential election, and Jones hadn’t gotten over the fact Kennedy had won.

  “I’ve got other things on my mind than to worry about the Pope,” Wally told Charley.

  “What’s going on?” Charley had moved to Coulson five years earlier, after retiring. He spent his mornings visiting the various shop owners along Main Street, and he had struck up a friendship with Wally, when the Keller’s first took over the motel.

  “Remember that tenant I told you about, in room ten?” Wally asked.

  “The fancy dresser, with the Lincoln Continental?”

  “That’s him. I think he left.”

  “I thought he was staying for the month.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “If he left without paying, I’d call the cops on him.”

  “No, that’s not it. He came in the office the end of the month, the Saturday before Halloween and paid for November. Told me he’d be gone for a week, but he wanted to keep the room so he paid for another month.”

  “Maybe something came up on his trip, delayed his return,” Charley suggested.

  “No, he did return the next Saturday. I saw him in the morning, asked him how his trip went. He said everything went fine but that he was glad to be back. In fact, he told me he wouldn’t be going anywhere for the rest of November.”

  “What does this guy do again?”

  “I don’t know; he was checking into some local businesses, something like that. I got the impression he was an investor or looking for a business to buy. But the thing is, Charley, the next morning, on Sunday, his car was gone. I didn’t think anything about it at the time. But he hasn’t been back. That was over a week ago.”

  “Have you checked his room?”

  “No. I feel sort of funny barging in there. It has the do-not-disturb hanger on the door.”

  “Does he have any friends you could ask? Did he leave some contact number?”

  “He mentioned something about a sister up in Clement Falls. But I never saw him with anyone. No one ever visited him at the motel.”

  “I’d go check out his room. Who knows, might be a dead body in there!” Charley said excitedly.

  “I doubt that, his car is gone.”

  “Maybe someone killed him, stole his car. I think you should go check his room.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should call the police.”

  “I tell you what, I’ll go with you. Let’s go check his room now. It’s your motel. You have the right to go in there.” Charley stood up, anxious to see the room.

  Wally silently considered Charley’s suggestion.

  “Okay, let’s do it.” Wally pulled the keyring from his pocket and headed to the door. Outside, Charley followed Wally down the walkway leading to room ten. The temperature had significantly dropped in the last week, and there was a nip in the air.

  “This is it,” Wally said as he got to the room. Before using the key, he knocked loudly on the door.

  “Mr. Marino, hello? Are you in there?” He knocked again. When there was no answer, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. The room was dark. The dra
wn shades blocked out the sun. Wally reached in and switched on the overhead light. A dull yellow glow illuminated the dingy room.

  The two men walked in and looked around. The bed was unmade, but there was no sign of any luggage, clothes, or personal items belonging to Anthony Marino. Wally inspected the room and found the drawers and the closet empty.

  “Looks like the guy moved out,” Charley said. He peeked around the room, looking for some forgotten item.

  “But he paid for the month. This is so strange.” Wally shook his head.

  “Ahh,” Charley said as he leaned down and picked something off the floor. “Apparently your missing renter did have a visitor.” Charley handed Anthony an unopened condom package he found on the floor, partially hidden by the bedspread hanging off the unmade bed.

  “Odd.” Wally took the condom package. “I never saw anyone come to his room. They’d have to pass right by my office.”

  “Probably was at night.”

  “I guess you’re right. Maybe I should try to get ahold of his sister.”

  “Do you have her name?”

  “No. The only thing I know, she and her husband have a boarding house up at Clement Falls.”

  “From what I know, there’s only one, owned by Nick Carracci. Good guy. I met him a few years ago, when I first started going fishing up there. Some good trout up in those streams.”

  Wally gave the room a final inspection before he and Charley stepped back outside.

  “I wonder if I should leave this do-not-disturb hanger on?” Wally asked as he locked up.

  “Well, the guy did pay for the room. Maybe he took a spur of the moment trip to go see his sister.”

  “I guess I’ll try giving them a call.” Wally locked the door.

  Before Charley left the motel, he looked up the Carracci number in the phone book.

  “Let me know how this turns out,” Charley told Wally as he said goodbye. “But it would’ve made a far better story if there had been a dead body in the room!”