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by Joan Upton Hall
(Originally printed in Roswell Literary Review, July 1998)
How Suzanne detested Mom's new, young husband. Every time she called Mom's house, she got his recorded message: "Lucky and Mo at Lake McQueen. You know the routine, so talk to the machine."
Not "Maureen" but “Mo.” It was as if he didn’t know Mom for the sedate, dignified lady she was. After Dad’s death a year before, she had become even more so, preferring quiet evenings at home, curled up with a good book and her cat.
Then she met Lucky and lost her judgment. He insisted she learn mountain climbing, horseback riding, skiing, and you-name-it. What possessed Mom to marry the jerk? And how long could she hold up to that pace?
Worse yet, if she got hurt or sick, would Lucky honor the in-sickness vow? It was easy to imagine Mom encouraging him, “You go on and have a good time,” and if Suzanne had him pegged right, he'd do it--with Mom’s credit card.
Mom's last letter assured her they'd be home for a few weeks so she could visit. "I'd so like for you and Lucky to get acquainted," she wrote. But Suzanne couldn't reach her, and she was beginning to worry. Friends at work offered plenty of advice.
"Suzanne, just because your last one turned out irresponsible, doesn’t mean all men are. Didn’t your mother say Lucky's ‘charming’?"
“Look at you, young and attractive, but you sit home worrying about your mother. Get a life, girl!”
"And get a load of him in that wedding picture she sent you. You oughta be proud a young stud’s attracted to her."
"Her or her money?” Suzanne asked. Whatever her friends said, she didn't trust the hyperactive leach and never would.
Finally, when she called during her morning break, the leach himself answered.
"Sure, Susie babe, we're fine, but she's sleeping late. I'll serve her breakfast in bed about noon."
"Noon? Mom never stays in bed that late."
"Maybe she never had anything worth staying in bed for."
Suzanne's ears burned. "Will you please tell her Suzanne called and have her call me at work?"
"Sure thing, Susie."
No return call came, and by nightfall, her mind started conjuring possible calamities, but surely he'd let her know if Mom got hurt. I must be paranoid! Being obnoxious doesn't make him heartless, does it?
She couldn't ask Mom's two best friends to check on her. They were on a cruise--where Mom would have been if she hadn't traded in her good sense for a man the age of her daughter. Good grief! Am I just jealous of Mom's happiness?
Nightmares plagued her even though she couldn't make sense of them. By morning, she made up her mind to call the police long distance to tell them she feared for her mother's safety. The rural police force didn’t inspire confidence. The deputy she spoke to had a whiny voice that reminded her of Andy Divine, the comic relief side-kick in the old cowboy movies she’d watched as a kid.
"Mom usually calls me two or three times a week,” Suzanne explained, “but I've had no word from her for ten days now except a letter."
"Didn’t your mother recently get married?" the police officer asked.
"That's right." She had forgotten how everybody knew everybody else’s business in that little town.
"Could be the reason, ma'am."
"But you don't understand. I'm her only daughter and we're very close."
"Uh huh, and she lives at Lake McQueen Estates? I see. I'm sorry, ma'am, but our hands are tied.” He didn't have to finish the implication that it was her inheritance she feared for.
She’d have to go there herself, even if the whole world thought she was a meddling fool. She had plenty of leave time coming. Since splitting with her boyfriend, all she did was work, so she pleaded a family emergency to take the rest of the week off.
By starting her drive at dawn, she reached her mother's estate just before noon and pulled up before the iron gate. Familiar white Grecian columns of the house rose above weeping willows.
She punched in the combination to open the gate, so she wouldn’t have to call for admittance, and rolled slowly up the brick-paved, circular drive. No yard man was in sight, but leaves needed to be raked. Mom didn’t usually let that go. Paranoid or not, Suzanne parked her compact car far back so that shrubbery concealed it from view of the house. Getting out of the car, she pulled on a denim jacket. She skirted the pungent smelling junipers on her way to the front door and heard a cat meowing. Her mother's pet calico crept out. Usually self-assured, the cat seemed ready to run at the slightest threat. It was just a common little stray Mom had taken in, but she loved it, treating it like a purebred--the same way she did Lucky.
"Come here, Patches.” Suzanne stooped and reached out her hand. The cat came to her and let her scratch behind its ears. Its purring seemed almost frantic.
"What are you doing out here? Mom never lets you out in front. Of course, that was before she found Lucky and put us both out in the cold.” Suzanne stood up and marched forward, the cat following. “Come on, sweetie."
She dug into her purse for Mom’s house key, but stopped. What if she walked in on Lucky “in his unawares,” as Dad used to say? Poor Dad must be turning over in his grave.
When she rang the doorbell, she stood to one side of the peephole. Have I been seeing too many movies or what? Patches rubbed against her ankles, waiting for a chance to run inside.
The door opened and Lucky stood there in jeans and a silk shirt, unbuttoned to his lean, muscular waist. His jaw hung loose for a second before his orthodontist-demo smile returned. He opened his arms to invite an embrace.
"Susie babe! What a nice surprise!"
"Call me Suzanne, please.” She ducked under the open arms as Patches slipped unseen past his Nike running shoes. "If my mother's still sleeping, I'm going up to see her."
The smile barely wavered, but when he dropped his arms to his sides, a jangle drew her attention to the keys in his hand. He pitched them to the antique credenza, the only furniture in the marble-floored foyer.
Suzanne winced. What would Mom think if he scratched the polished surface? A cheap rabbit's foot key chain dangled off the edge. She shuddered at his bad taste.
"You just caught me leaving," he said. "Mo's already left."
"Left?"
"Didn't she tell you? We're going to Cancun for a few days--a little fun in the sun to get out of this lousy weather."
It's not the weather that's lousy, leach. But she kept her voice even when she spoke. "Her letter said she'd be here. She invited me for a visit."
"But you didn't say on the answering machine you'd do it, and we gave up. Jeez, she'll be so disappointed she missed you. She had some shopping to do and I'm to meet her at the airport."
"Fine, I'll follow you there and see her."
"Oh--okay, but we've got some time. Let me get you a cup of coffee. I just unplugged it."
"No thanks.”
But Lucky was already heading for the kitchen. Before following him, Suzanne gave Patches a caress as the cat stood on her hind legs batting at the rabbit's foot that hung off the edge of the credenza.
At the doorway, the smell of spoiled food and stale coffee assaulted her nose. It should have prepared her for the sight of dirty dishes and fast food containers stacked all over the table and counter tops.
"My gosh! Mother would never put up with such a mess! Where are the servants?"
"We let 'em go. Mo agreed we needed privacy--if you know what I mean.” He bounced his eyebrows and grinned. He scratched something out of a cup with his finger and splashed water across it, then filled the cup with coal black liquid and handed it to her.
No way would that stuff touch her lips.
"As for the mess," he said, "well, I guess we've been too busy to notice."
"I want to go see her.” She carried the lukewarm cup to the sink and emptied it. Noxious odors came up from the disposal.
"You're welcome to see me off on the plane, but I guess you didn't understand what I meant. She left on an earlier flight to meet me in Cancun. That’s where she wanted to do her shopping."
She glared at him, her nerves dancing a jig. Surely the police could check the passenger listings, but would they? Anxiety for Mom was mounting and she wouldn't be put off any longer. She’d fly to Cancun herself if she had to.
"Suit yourself.” He shrugged. "Come on so I can lock the house and make my flight.” He strode to the foyer, halted, looked on and around the credenza. "Darn, I could've sworn I put my keys here... must be in my jacket.” He bounded up the curving staircase, three steps at a time.
Let him go. She smiled at Patches bearing the rabbit's foot into the kitchen like a trophy, keys dangling. The sounds of Lucky throwing things around and cursing upstairs steeled her resolve to block his path, whatever that was. No use having him take out his impatience on Patches. She followed the cat to take the keys from her and place them back on the credenza. Let him wonder how he missed them.
Patches had dropped her toy and was pawing at the door leading to the cellar. She meowed up at Suzanne.
On the refrigerator that flanked the door, was a greasy hand smudge. An athletic shoe print showed on the white tile floor where it had crossed the threshold from the other side. Odd. Her mother never used the cellar because of a loose stair board. In fact, for almost a year, she'd kept the door locked to prevent anyone from tripping. Had Lucky repaired the board? Not likely.
A glance at the key caddy beside the door leading to the garage revealed the cellar door key missing. The keys to Mom's Cadillac hung in their usual place.
But he said she'd left. Fear shot up Suzanne’s spine.
She grabbed Lucky's keys and pocketed them. Call the police, but if I tell them who I am, they'll just...
She called nine-one-one. When the Andy Divine voice answered, she lied that a prowler was in the house. She gave the address and hung up before having to explain further, then hurried back to the foyer.
Lucky was at the foot of the stairs. He scowled at her. "You see my keys?"
"How could I? I just got here."
"I heard you talking to somebody. Who?"
"Uh--just the cat. I, I thought she might be hungry."
"That danged cat! If I catch her--"
"Never mind. I'll put out the cat. You better go on to the airport."
"Without my keys?"
"Maybe you left them in your car."
"I'll see.” He glanced at the cellar door, then dashed toward the garage, nearly tearing the door off its hinges.
She dead-bolted him out and ran back to the cellar door. She yanked Lucky's keys out of her pocket and fumbled past the house key and the one to his new Porsche. Picking the small one, she tried it in the lock. Yes! She pulled the door open and flipped the switch but no light came on.
A flashlight? She'd seen one--where--ah, there, on the kitchen table, amid Chinese food cartons and McDonald’s sacks.
A low moan came out of the darkness below. Patches raced past her down the stairs. But already Lucky was trying the door from the garage.
Where were the police?
She grabbed the flashlight, snapped it on, and moved into the darkness, locking the door behind her. Maybe he'd think she left, and without his key, what could he do? The police would be here any minute.
With trembling, careful steps, she followed the shaft of light downward. Again she heard the moan, sure it was Mom. She flashed the light toward the sound. Almost fell when the loose board seesawed under her. She caught herself on the handrail, but dropped the flashlight. It bounced down the stairs. Crazy yellow visions jumped in front of it before it came to rest on the dirt floor. The arc of light showed a human ankle taped to a chair leg. Patches sat beside it. The sandaled foot gave a weak twitch.
Holding tight to the hand rail, Suzanne felt her way down. The smell of fresh-turned dirt mingled with human waste. She took up the light with shaky hands. Lifted it to her mother's face.
Mom's mouth was taped. Tears rolled out of her eyes. As carefully as she could, Suzanne peeled off the tape while Mom squinched her eyes and whimpered in pain. She hugged her mother’s clammy body, strapped to the chair, then removed the duct tape around her mother's ankles and wrists.
"Oh, Mom, I should've come sooner! Are you hurt?"
"Just--just half-starved," Mom rasped, cradling her raw forearms to her body. "Thirsty--so cold."
Suzanne slipped off her jacket and helped her mother into it. "What on earth..."
"Lucky--he's been trying to weaken me into, into changing my will. Told him I'd die first, and I think he, he--well, look over there."
The light found a shovel and a gaping hole in the dirt floor the size of a grave.
Mom whispered, “He said, after he puts in a concrete floor, nobody’d ever find me.”
“Never mind, the police are on the way.”
“Police? When you called, did you talk to the Chief himself or--”
“I don’t know.” She tried not to sound impatient. “I didn’t ask his rank--some guy with a whiny voice.”
“Oh, honey, that’s Lucky’s cousin.”
“My God! But he wouldn’t condone...” Or would he? She certainly hadn’t been able to get any help out of him before.
Mom hugged her arms, her chin trembling.
Upstairs from the kitchen came the muffled sound of voices. The doorknob rattled, but wouldn’t turn. The key rested safe in Suzanne’s jeans pocket.
Crash! The door panel splintered and let in a bit of light from the kitchen. A metal rod battered the opening larger. Lucky's hand reached through and released the lock.
Suzanne hustled her mom into hiding under the staircase, which was open at both sides but littered with junk boxes. She switched off the flashlight, came back to the foot of the stairs, and groped around for a weapon. Nothing but a roll of duct tape. The shovel lay over on the other side of the room. Could she cross through the maze of boxes and find the shovel in the dark?
The door swung open. Lucky stood silhouetted for an instant, a crowbar in his hand. Just behind him in the light stood a balloon of a man in a police uniform. Good grief! He was even built like Andy Divine.
Lucky felt for secure footing, one step at a time. Cousin Andy D. followed right behind him.
“Watch out for a loose board,” Lucky warned over his shoulder.
No good--she had to make him reckless. Her heart pounding, she flashed the light in his face. "The cat outsmarted you, Lucky.”
"Cat?” He tried to dodge the blinding light beam.
"Patches stole your keys. Led me to Mom."
He made a guttural growl and clutched the crowbar like a batter ready to strike. But he stood firm.
"Look out! Here comes Patches!” She tossed the tape roll.
It struck a couple of steps below his feet. He swung hard, sending the tape roll flying.
Then the crowbar’s follow-through caught another object, Cousin Andy D.’s head. It made a sickening crunch. The water-balloon of a body crashed against the handrail, tumbled over, and thumped to the ground.
Suzanne froze in horror. Lucky barely missed a beat, but continued down the stairs. Thank God, he didn’t see her in the shadows. He almost brushed her as he passed. He must have been still light-blinded, but that wouldn’t last.
Something rattled off the wall farthest from Suzanne. Was it the cat or had Mom pitched something from under the stairs?
Lucky moved off in that direction, tapping his way along with the crowbar as a sightless person would have used a cane.
Not seeing much better herself, Suzanne slipped under the stairs. She reached out her hand till Mom clasped it and drew the two of them together.
“Mom,” Suzanne whispered. “I’ve got to get that shovel.”
“No! Honey, you can’t--”
“Listen, it’s the only way. Can you make it upstairs and call...” She halted.
The tapping of the crowbar and shuffling feet had stopped. Had Lucky heard them? She held her breath.
Mom hugged her and whispered, “I’ll do it,” then released her and started moving out on the side away from Lucky. Suzanne sneaked the other way. She bent and felt her way past the boxes toward the place where she thought she had seen the shovel. In the clear, she moved faster, feeling with each step. She touched something soft and unmoving. When she reached down, she couldn’t stifle a yelp. It was Cousin Andy D.’s body.
Lucky gave a low chuckle and came toward her. She ran, tripped over the shovel, grabbed it as she rolled aside. The crowbar swished through the air. Clank. It hit the ground where she’d been. She sprang to her feet.
The kitchen door swung wider and lightened the cellar. Good--Mom had made it. Suzanne and Lucky could both see the grave now. She side-stepped back and forth to keep the pit between them. She gripped the shovel handle, silently daring him to jump across. In that moment of mid-air vulnerability, she’d be able to get a good solid swing at him.
She heard Mom’s voice in the kitchen, calling the police.
Lucky whirled and started toward the stairs. Patches darted past toward the sound of Mom’s voice. Lucky tripped over the cat, making her yowl, but she escaped up the steps.
Suzanne ran up behind him and clouted him on the head with the shovel, then chased after Patches. At the top, she looked back. Lucky was on his hands and knees, struggling to stand up.
Suzanne broke off the cellar-side doorknob with the shovel. She jumped inside and pushed the door shut, but that splintered panel wouldn’t keep him out anymore than it had before.
“Help me!” Mom tugged at the refrigerator to push it over and block the door. Suzanne dropped the shovel and helped. They threw their whole weight into it but it wouldn’t budge.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Suzanne and Mom strained. Lucky’s face appeared through the broken out panel, his charming smile transformed into a mad grin. Suzanne grabbed the shovel and slid it under the edge of the refrigerator. She pried with all her strength while Mom pushed.
Lucky reached through the panel turning the inside doorknob. The fridge teetered and crashed diagonally against the cabinet.
Lucky screamed in agony, his arm pinned between the door and the fridge. They could still see his face, but a distant siren was wailing nearer.
Exhausted, Suzanne and her mother sank to the floor. Something poked Suzanne’s hip and she reached into her jeans pocket. She pulled out the rabbit’s foot and jangled Lucky’s keys. She and Mom fell into each other’s arms, laughing and crying.