The Ups and Downs of Being Dead Page 8

  If Martin thought her interest was unusual, he didn’t show it. They’d only been chatting a couple minutes when Robbie appeared at the dining room entrance with a tall glass in hand. It might have appeared to be water to someone else, but Robert knew it was vodka.

  “Morgan? Could I see you for a minute?” Robbie calmly took a sip as he waited for a confused Morgan to get up from the table. He led the way up the stairs to the bedroom they were sharing, quietly closed the door, then chugged a big gulp of the vodka.

  She snatched the glass away. “Are you crazy? Why aren’t you following the plan?”

  He answered between clenched teeth. “Because the safe is locked.”

  “What? You said it was always open.”

  “It was.” He reached for his glass. She hesitated before letting him have it back. He took another giant swig.

  “I bet Martin told her to lock it, the fucking weasel.” Morgan paced in front of the chair where Robbie had slumped, his head lolled back.

  He sounded a lot like Amanda when he whined, “Now what are we going to do?”

  Shooing him like a gnat, Morgan closed her eyes and sucked in her bottom lip. What was she scheming? Surely, she didn’t think she could crack the safe. Or could she?

  Another thought drifted through Robert’s head. Did Amanda still keep the combination scribbled on a notepad in her vanity? More importantly, was Morgan smart enough to find it?

  “You have no idea what the combination is?”

  Robbie shook his head.

  She looked thoroughly disgusted when she said, “Give me the car keys.”

  “What for?”

  “I need cigarettes.” She wiggled her fingers to move him along.

  “Come on, Robbie,” Robert said, knowing it was useless. “She’s got a whole pack in her bag.”

  Without thinking twice, Robbie handed over the rental keys, then took another healthy drink. When he woke in a fog tomorrow, would he even remember giving them to her? Would he be surprised that she’d taken the car and bolted?

  Robert followed Morgan down the back stairs, wondering if she would try and get a couple hundred dollars by cashing in Robbie’s return flight ticket. He also wondered if she had her own key to Robbie’s apartment. Maybe she planned to clean out his apartment, hock his plasma TV.

  Once she’d slipped silently out through the kitchen door, Robert wandered into the study. Amanda was perched on Martin’s lap, boo-hooing on his shoulder. If she knew how close they’d come to a real disaster, she’d be wailing a lot harder.

  The sight of his wife and his best friend clinging to each other drove Robert outside. He stood under the portico at the front door for a long time, trying to decide what to do. Maggie and Sam had been right. Going back to visit family never turned out as expected.

  Now, his only option was to go back to the Cryonics Center and hang around with those two until their stint as greeters was through. Then what? Go on a ghost hunt with Maggie? Take a class with Sam?

  What a screwed up mess. This was not how his freezing was supposed to go. Why hadn’t he just gone to sleep like Alex Darden said he would? Maybe the guy hanging out in the tank of liquid nitrogen with his body had the right idea. A self-imposed sleep.

  Robert needed a drink. He wanted to talk to someone about this catastrophe. Hell, he wished he could just pound his fist or wring his hands!

  He wandered around to the back of the house and watched the wind ripple the water in the swimming pool. He’d never been in that pool, never even dipped a toe into the water. The only time he’d even been out there was for Amanda’s annual garden party.

  The first year she hosted the event, she’d worn a stunning red bikini with a sheer cover-up with swirls of colors. So many guests showed up, Robert had seriously considered turning people away. But as the years went by, the cover-ups covered up more. And as Amanda’s enthusiasm waned, the crowds dwindled.

  No one ever swam in the pool then either, not even a drunken guest making a fool of himself. All those years of pool maintenance to keep forty thousand gallons of water clean—for who?

  Well—Rachel.

  He’d seen her a couple times swimming laps, or coming in through the lanai, her hair still wet. Now he realized it must have been a daily routine; she was so methodical, so driven that once she’d decided on swimming, she’d have been totally committed.

  What a contrast between her and Robbie. Rachel was smart, confident, she had a business savvy that rivaled his when he was in his mid-twenties. And now that he was gone, she would do a fine job running the Audrey’s stores.

  There was no reason for Robert to take boring cruises or spend endless hours in museums. He could spend the next fifty years watching Rachel build the Audrey’s corporation.

  He remembered being stunned when Martin told him of Rachel’s request—no demand—that he create the legal documentation for Rachel’s emancipation from her mother and father.

  She was only fourteen at the time, but her relationship with Amanda had deteriorated to screaming matches. And it was usually about Rachel’s appearance. If she wasn’t wearing combat boots, she had rips in her clothes that were held together with safety pins. One day, she wore all black, and her eyes were dark as a raccoon’s. Then the next day, she’d be decked out in a poofy mini skirt, two different leggings, one stripped, the other polka dots, and black patent Mary Jane shoes.

  Robert thought some of her combinations were inspired, but Amanda went bonkers. Especially when Rachel altered something Amanda had bought.

  At first, Martin had tried to humor Rachel by pointing out that she had to be seventeen before the court would even hear her case. Even then it was doubtful that any judge would comply.

  Undaunted, she asked Martin to look into alternatives, like adoption.

  * * *

  Hours later, a light came on inside the house. Robert wandered back in to see Morgan tiptoeing up the stairs. Once she closed the bedroom door, she flipped on the light. Robbie was passed out in a chair, an empty vodka bottle wedged between his legs. She kicked his foot, and the bottle rolled to the floor.

  Robbie jerked. “What the hell?”

  “Wake up,” Morgan said. “We’ve got a new plan.”

  He curled to his side and pulled his knees up, trying to get comfortable in the chair.

  “Oh, no you don’t. We’ve got to work fast.” She tipped his head back and slipped a pill into his mouth. “This’ll get you going.”

  Robbie stared up with bleary eyes. “Where’d you get that?”

  “We’re in Atlanta, asshole. You can get anything you want.”

  Whatever she’d given him, it seemed to work fast. He staggered to his feet and jammed his hands in his pockets.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I didn’t take your money.”

  After a second glance at her fuck-me heels and tousled hair, his lips slid in a pout. “I thought you weren’t going to do that anymore.”

  “Oh, for crissakes, Robbie. I needed some cash. Now are you ready to hear the plan?”

  He flexed his jaw, and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah. Let’s hear it.”

  Her body quaked with a sudden giddiness. “We’re going into her bedroom, wake her up, and make her unlock that safe.”

  “Are you nuts? What makes you think she’ll open it?”

  “This.” Morgan reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a gun. It was wrapped up in one of those clear plastic bags newspapers were delivered in.

  “Holy shit!”

  “Yeah.” Morgan grinned. “My first trick was carrying it. Said he got off pointing it at chicks while they sucked him off.”

  “He could have killed you!”

  “Christ, Robbie!” Morgan shook a stringy strand of hair out of her eyes. “I had enough sense to make sure it wasn’t loaded.”

  Some of the color returned to Robbie’s face.

  “But here’s the best part,” Morgan said. “I jacked the gun when he wasn’t looking. I’ve got
his fingerprints on the weapon.” She giggled as she tousled Robbie’s hair.

  “So what?”

  The grin on Morgan’s face vanished. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

  Robbie tumbled back into the chair. “Jesus fucking Christ. You are nuts.”

  “Come on. You put this to her head and I guaran-damn-tee you she’ll open that safe. And since she was going to know sooner or later that you took the stuff, what difference does it make how you get it?”

  “I don’t know—”

  But Morgan wasn’t really listening. “Can you see her face when you pull out this baby? I bet she’ll be real damn sorry she fucked with you.” She pranced, gripping the gun through the plastic and waving it around. “Come on, bitch. Hand ‘em over.”

  God, this couldn’t be happening. Did Robbie really have the balls to hold a gun to his mother’s head? Didn’t he know Amanda kept a gun in her bedside table? What if Martin got to it first?

  A sickening smile crept over Robbie’s face as he slowly rose to his feet. “She’ll piss her panties.”

  “Yeah.” Morgan punched the air. “That bitch is going to be so sorry.”

  She bobbed her head and Robbie joined in. They bounced on the balls of their feet as they pumped each other up with their idle threats. Amanda would think twice the next time she let Martin interfere, and she sure as hell would forget about that reduced allowance.

  When Morgan thought he was ready, she shoved the gun into Robbie’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  He started to take the gun out of the bag but she stopped him.

  “Uh, uh,” she said. “Finger prints.”

  She swung open Amanda’s door and swept her arm to invite Robbie in. He stood planted in the doorway, the gun pointed, so that when Morgan turned on the lights, his mother would see his bad-ass self. God, he was such a moron.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When Morgan flipped the light switch, the first person to bolt up out of the bed was Martin.

  “What the fuck?” Morgan and Robbie said at the same time.

  She wheeled on Robbie. “Did you know about this?” she asked him.

  “No!”

  Martin was already out of the covers, naked, and crawling over Amanda, reaching for the bedside drawer.

  “Oh, shit!” Morgan hissed.

  Oh, shit was right. Once Martin had Amanda’s gun, it was over. He would call the police and have Robbie and Morgan arrested for attempted robbery. Even with Amanda’s pleadings and tears, Robert doubted if Martin would let the two get away with their little prank.

  In fact, Martin would probably do his best to make sure Robbie did some time. It could jumpstart the whole drug rehab plan. Robert smiled.

  But suddenly, Morgan wrapped her hand around Robbie’s. Robert heard the crinkle of plastic, saw Morgan wedge her finger into the trigger. There was a short struggle as she fought to swing Robbie’s arm toward the bed. Then a single blast cracked in the quiet night.

  Robert gasped in disbelief.

  The gunshot woke Amanda with a start. She was faced away from the door, so when Martin groaned and slumped onto her, she was still groggy and didn’t understand.

  “Martin?” she grumbled, and pushed on his chest to roll him off. Then she drew a hand away, saw the blood and screamed.

  “Jesus Christ!” Robbie shouted.

  Amanda jerked her head around and froze. She stared at Robbie, at the gun, at Morgan, her mouth wide in shock. Martin struggled to rise, and lurched again toward the drawer. Morgan yanked the gun out of Robbie’s hand and fired again. Amanda’s piercing scream wailed like a siren.

  With quick strides, Morgan crossed the room to the bed.

  “Shut up!” She pressed the plastic-covered gun against Amanda’s temple.

  “No!” Robbie shrieked. “What are you doing? You said the gun wasn’t loaded.”

  “Well, it’s a damn good thing it was. Did you see that prick dive? He was going for a gun.” Morgan yanked open the bedside drawer and then nodded like she’d known all along. “He’d have shot us both, no questions asked.”

  Robbie began to tremble. “I don’t think…”

  “What did you think he was looking for?” Morgan snapped. “Condoms? He was feeling frisky and wanted to fuck your mother?”

  Robert’s thoughts seemed to crackle and spark, as though his mind could not compute what was happening.

  Robbie stood nearby, quaking, blubbering, “Don’t, Morgan. Don’t.”

  Amanda sobbed and Morgan shouted at both of them to shut up. She pushed Martin’s limp body away, then dragged Amanda out of the bed by her hair. She was naked, too. Robbie turned away.

  “Congratulations, Robbie!” Robert yelled. “You happy now?”

  Using the gun, Morgan pointed at a robe tossed on a chair.

  “Put that on,” she snarled at Amanda before turning to Robbie. “Get it together, you dumb shit. You just caught your mom fucking the dickhead that was going to send you to rehab.”

  “I know.” Robbie wailed. Then using the heels of his hands, he wiped away the tears in his eyes. He turned on Amanda. “How could you? With Martin of all people? Jesus, Mother.”

  Amanda was too afraid to speak. All she could do was clutch the robe tightly to her waist. Blood from Martin soaked through the silk.

  “Your husband’s attorney.” Morgan clicked her tongue. “That’s like fucking his business partner. Or his brother.”

  “Did Dad know you were cheating on him?” Robbie asked. “Is that why he cut us off?”

  “That’s probably why he wants to come back,” Morgan fueled Robbie’s indignation. “He’s hoping his next wife won’t be a fucking whore.”

  Amanda’s tousled hair swung from side to side as she shook her head, her face contort with anguish. And the longer she remained silent, the bolder Robbie grew.

  “Were you fucking Martin to get more of Dad’s estate?” Robbie hesitated, as though an idea was fighting its way to the surface. “Wait a minute. He was going to get the will thrown out, but you weren’t going to tell me. You were going to keep it all for yourself.”

  “You bitch!” Morgan tossed in.

  Amanda’s voice was low and raspy. “That’s not true, Robbie.”

  “Get over to that safe and open it up,” Robbie yelled. “Right now.”

  Morgan waved the gun for emphasis.

  After one last glance back at Martin’s lifeless body on the bed, Amanda stumbled to the armoire, and the safe. She opened the double doors of the cabinet with trembling fingers.

  Robert remembered when she’d insisted on cutting away the back of the armoire so the wall safe would open just above a shelf. That way, Amanda could spread out all her pretty baubles before choosing what she wanted to wear. She’d had halogen lights added so she could see the stones true colors before deciding.

  For the first time in years, the shelves were cleared. And when Amanda pulled the handle on the safe, Robert could see all the velvet trays and flannel drawstring bags tossed haphazardly inside, no doubt at Martin’s suggestion.

  “It’s not what you think,” she told Robbie. “Martin and I love…”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Robbie screamed.

  “Stop lying!” Morgan shoved Amanda so hard she tumbled to the floor. “You better just shut the fuck up before Robbie gets even madder.”

  Amanda seemed genuinely startled by Robbie’s behavior. Didn’t she remember all the times Robbie had lashed out against people he thought had wronged him? Like the time he turned in a science project that Amanda had done for him. The teacher gave him a failing grade, said she knew he hadn’t done the work himself. He got mad and smashed the project right in front of the woman. But that wasn’t enough for Robbie. The next day, when the teacher got to her classroom, she’d found all the tropical fish in her aquarium dead. Naturally, she accused Robbie. And Robert was sure he’d done it. But Amanda refused to believe her golden boy could do anything like that. Maybe she was finally getting it now.

&nbs
p; A whimper distracted Morgan, and she glanced over at Robbie. He was quickly losing steam.

  “Start filling that bag,” she snapped. “You just became one rich motherfucker.”

  Robbie’s face had a pasty hue; his hand shook as he unzipped the duffle bag. He pulled the top velvet tray out of the safe that had been wedged in at an angle.

  Nestled on the black fabric was the David Yurman amethyst necklace Robert had bought Amanda when she accepted his marriage proposal. The next tray held several Chopard necklaces, another was piled with Unsworth and Baccarat bracelets.

  “Jesus Christ!” Morgan gasped as she watched the jewels tumble into the bag. “I may have to keep a couple of those.”

  She snatched the Damiani coiled bracelet from its tray: ten diamonds alternating with black pearls to commemorate Robert and Amanda’s first ten years of marriage. He remembered how Martin had insisted Robert buy her something special. But her arm was so fat, she had to have the coils reshaped so the bracelet would fit.

  With his teeth, Robbie pulled open a drawstring bag and nodded for Morgan to open her hand. A cascade of rings flowed into her palm. Castaways that no longer warranted a slot in a jewelry tray.

  Each twinkle of a diamond brought a little more color to Robbie’s cheeks. And when he flipped open the lid on the Zambian emerald and diamond necklace, Morgan gasped.

  “Dear God!” she chortled at Amanda. “You must have taken it in the ass for that one!”

  Plucking it up gently with his fingers, Robbie gazed at the necklace. His shoulders tipped and his legs wobbled. He had to take a small step back to keep from falling. Was some fragment of reality finally sinking in? That particular necklace was insured by Lloyd’s of London. Even if Amanda didn’t go after Robbie and Morgan, the insurance company would.

  The duffle slipped from Robbie’s hand and fell to the floor. An instant later, Robbie dropped to his hands and knees and vomited on the white carpeting.

  Was he finally realizing how this was going to end?