Lifelines: Kate's Story (42 page)

She
spent Friday working out every detail, and making a list on paper. Saturday
morning, she read the list over very carefully. Then she went for a walk along
the beach, and when she got back, she read the list again and tried to think of
anything she’d forgotten. She couldn’t change the fact that Mac had seen a
lawyer, that the lawyer was waving that damned separation agreement around.
People would know. Rachel hadn’t told anyone except Kate, and John knew of
course, but they were counselors, bound by confidentiality. Rachel remembered
every word Kate had told her about the exceptions to confidentiality, and she
had nothing to worry about. If Kate knew Rachel planned grave bodily harm to
Richard, she’d be in trouble, but Kate had no way of knowing.

She
was smart enough to be very careful, to consider every option and choose the
safest. The safest of all would be if she could convince Richard to get back
together with her, but the other day in John’s office, she’d seen there was no
way to put it back together. He’d turned against her, and she didn’t want him
back now. She’d had enough of worrying what Richard would think, trying all the
time to please him. It wasn’t as if he’d tried to please her! Anyway, she was
damned if she’d take him back when he’d been with another woman. Too late,
Richard, for forgiveness.

She
read the list again while she ate lunch Saturday.

Perfect.

She’d
already considered other ways. Poison, for example, but she couldn’t come up
with a good way to get Richard to ingest poison. She would need to get him
here, and what if he told someone he was coming to see her? Then she’d have to
buy the poison, and what if the dose wasn’t right, or he tasted something? She
didn’t know enough about poison, and the risks were too high.

She
knew about fire, though. Fire had worked for her before, and it would work
again. With any luck, a fire could be counted as an accident. Even if they
judged it arson, the country was full of smart-assed screwballs who loved to light
matches.

She
wouldn’t need to buy anything, so nothing could be traced to her.

She
would have an alibi.

If
the fire were labeled arson, she’d get a quarter of a million from Richard’s
insurance. She’d earned it after two years with that judgmental puritan. But
she might score more, thanks to the magic of spontaneous combustion.

Half
a million dollars if they called it an accident.

At
eight Saturday evening, Rachel called Mac’s foreman. She was glad Denny
answered instead of his wife. The last thing she wanted was a conversation with
a curious woman. She asked Denny about the baby and managed to cover the fact
she’d forgotten the kid’s name. Then she announced, “Richard and I have decided
to get a divorce,”

“I
... ah ... do you want to talk to Jocelyn? She’s just feeding the baby.”

She
laughed lightly. “I’m not upset, Denny. It’s not that kind of divorce at all.
Mac wanted me to tell you, because he didn’t want you to think badly of him.”
This didn’t make sense at all, but she figured Denny wouldn’t know any better.
“We’ve thought about this a lot, and we’ve both decided it’s time to part.”

Denny
said, “Ah...”

“You
know, there comes a time when you just know it won’t work. I want to move
closer to the city for my university, and Richard loves the country.”

“I
... ah ...”

“We
wanted you to know first, before we tell anyone else. You don’t need to be
uncomfortable with either one of us, Denny. We’re both looking forward to
getting on with our separate lives.”

By
the time Rachel hung up, she was confident Denny believed his boss had embarked
on a no-grudges divorce. And, of course, if that was true, it meant Rachel had
no motive for wishing harm to Richard.

She’d
always known Denny was an idiot.

Rachel
knew Richard never stayed up late. Early to bed, early to rise—his virtue
irritated the hell out of her. By midnight he would be asleep, even if he had
the woman with him.

She
watched the neighbors’ front light until they switched it off just before
eleven, then she counted ten more minutes. She checked that the garage door was
closed, then ran next door and knocked on the neighbors’ door. Ed answered,
looking alarmed. Like Richard, he belonged to the early-to-bed religion.

“Everything
OK?”

She
said breathlessly, “I heard someone prowling around outside. Did you hear
anything?”

“No.
Isn’t your husband home?”

“He’s
bunking down at the construction yard. He’s been working late and ... well, I’m
sure he’s asleep by now. I’m nervous alone.” She looked over her shoulder
uneasily. “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I saw your light go off just a minute
ago, so I thought you’d still be awake.”

“That’s
all right. Why don’t I take a look around?”

Rachel
let him send her inside where she hovered with Mrs. Ed, who approved of men
checking out strange noises at night. Rachel couldn’t remember the woman’s
name, and she got sick of her conversation within two minutes.

Ed
returned with his flashlight, and announced, “No sign of anyone. Why don’t I
walk you back? Or would you rather call your husband from here?”

She
faked embarrassment and said, “I guess I imagined it. Could you walk me home,
Ed? I’d appreciate it. Then I’ll check the doors are all locked, and take a
sleeping pill.”

He
escorted her home and checked her doors and windows before he left. She made
sure he checked the garage, so he would remember her car was locked up in
there.

“I’m
sorry I bothered you,” she said. “I’m embarrassed about this.”

“No
problem. Just take that sleeping pill and have a good sleep now. Everything’s
locked up tight.”

She
left her own lights on for five minutes after he left, then turned off all but
a small lamp in the living room and a light in the bedroom, both on Ed’s side
of the house. Five minutes later she turned her bedroom light off.

She
watched in the dark until Ed’s lights went off. Then she went into the
bathroom, which had no outside windows, and sat down on the toilet with her
list. She went through everything again, step by step. Then she turned the
light off and went out to the living room for matches. Back in the bathroom,
she held the list over the toilet while it burned, then she flushed it.

In
the garage, she took the flashlight from its shelf, and used it to gather the
things she needed. She opened the trunk of her car and put everything she
needed in there. Then she left her keys in the car ignition and returned to the
house.

Next
came the hard part—waiting. She wouldn’t let herself start until two in the
morning, when both the neighbors and Richard would be thoroughly asleep. She
sat in a chair in the bedroom and stared at the lighted clock on Richard’s side
of the bed. The time passed faster than she expected, probably because she felt
the excitement of anticipation.

At
two o’clock, she dressed in the dark. Black slacks, blue running shoes, and a
black t-shirt. She tied her hair up and covered it with a black golfing cap
that had once belonged to Richard’s father. Finally, she went to the desk in
the living room where she opened a drawer and took out Richard’s spare set of
keys.

She
opened the garage door manually and very slowly, even though the garage was on
the far side of the house from Ed’s place. Once it was open, she stood at the
corner of the house and watched Ed’s windows for a good five minutes. No
lights, no sounds. They were fast asleep.

She
drove very slowly out of the garage without turning on her car lights. There
was no moon, but the stars gave enough light for her to make out the gap
between the trees that was their driveway. She saw lights coming and stopped
well short of the highway itself to wait until the car passed by and
disappeared. Then she pulled onto the highway and drove without lights until
she’d got well out of earshot of Ed’s house. Even after she turned on the
lights, she was careful to drive just below the speed limit until she got to
the turnoff to Richard’s construction yard. Just at the turnoff, she spotted a
car coming the other way, so she drove on a couple of miles, then came back.

No
one saw her turn off, and she shut her lights off once she left the highway.
The gravel road showed as a dark ribbon between two columns of trees. She
steered for the middle of the ribbon and drove to the last turn before the
construction yard, where she turned the car around and left it running. The
engine made hardly any sound. When the time came, she would slip behind the
wheel and quietly drive away. No one would ever know she’d been here.

She
put on gloves before she opened the trunk and lifted out the things she’d
packed there earlier: a plastic bag, a small Jerry can, and the chain saw
Richard used to trim lower branches from the trees on their property.

What
if he’d decided to go to a hotel? After all, she’d made a mess of his place the
other day. But Denny hadn’t mentioned the mess, which probably meant Richard
cleaned everything up without telling anyone. Luckily, he wasn’t the type to
complain to other people.

She
saw the gate ahead, then Richard’s truck parked right against the building.
Good. He was here. She wondered if he had the woman with him and hoped he did.

She
set everything down and reached for the padlock. If he’d changed the lock, her
plan would be destroyed.

It
opened easily. She put the padlock in her pocket, because she’d thought this
through when she made the list. There would be an investigation, and Denny
might tell the investigator Richard always locked this gate. Only two people
had keys—Denny, and Richard, who had two sets.  She couldn’t imagine Denny
committing arson. At first she’d thought about making it look like Denny did
it, but he might have an alibi. If nothing else, his wife would certainly say
he’d been home all night.

Either
way, with the lock gone, no one could prove it had been opened with a key.

She
picked up everything again and slipped into the big shadow beside the building
where he slept. The shop was divided in two parts. The storage area was on this
end, with access by a sliding door a truck could drive through, and the small
door right beside her. At the far end of the building, Richard had his office,
and the room she’d tried her best to destroy last weekend.

She
didn’t need to use his keys to open the door. With the gate locked, and Richard
himself inside, he hadn’t bothered to lock the building.

The
door squeaked loudly as she opened it. She froze. If he heard ...

She
waited an endless five minutes before she stepped through and pulled the door
closed without latching it. Inside, she turned on the small penlight she’d
brought. The creaking door had frightened her, but the floor was concrete and
her running shoes made no sound as she walked past stacks of plywood and
lumber. Richard had enough junk stored here to build ten houses.

She
walked to the far wall and stopped. He was only a couple of feet away, through
that wall. She heard a creak, and hurriedly switched off the light. Breathless,
her arms filled with the means of her husband’s destruction, she waited.

Nothing.

She
closed her eyes and battled with fear. She hadn’t been afraid the other time,
so she wasn’t prepared for the turbulence of her stomach. If she threw up, it
would make noise. That might not matter, because Richard was a sound sleeper.
But what if her vomit left traces that made someone suspicious?

She
didn’t switch the light back on until she had her stomach under control.

OK.
She was all right now.

The
upper shelves in front of her held a collection of power tools, just as she
remembered. The two bottom shelves were wider than the others, filled with tins
of paint and other junk. She saw a chainsaw among the tools on the bottom
shelf, to her right. She’d brought a small chain saw, but this one had a big
blade, well over two feet long. She eased the saw’s weight off the shelf and
turned it to angle the blade into the wall. That left space for the Jerry can
she’d brought. What could be more natural? A plastic can filled with gasoline
beside the chain saw. Because this Jerry can was the container Richard used to
fuel his chain saw at home, it would have the right mix of gas and oil. Fire
inspectors checked that sort of thing.

Where
did Richard keep his gas for this monster saw? Not in this building, it seemed.
Why? Because of the fire hazard? How ironic if the investigation concluded he’d
died because of his own carelessness.

She
opened her plastic bag and lifted out the bowl she’d found in the garage. Once,
she’d seen him mix epoxy in it. It was plastic, and therefore would burn. The
bowl fit tightly between the Jerry can and the paint cans to the left. Logical
for the paint rags to rest next to the paint. Rachel had found the rags in a
covered metal container in the garage. Now she arranged them loosely in the
bowl, as if someone had carelessly tossed them in.

Everyone
knew paint rags were subject to spontaneous combustion, and Thursday’s library
research had confirmed the fact. At first, she’d planned to pour gasoline over
the rags, but after spending the afternoon in the library, she decided
investigators might know the difference between gasoline present on rags before
the fire started, and gasoline ignited after the burning rags melted the Jerry
can.

Paint
thinner, however, was equally combustible, and often present on paint rags. She
pulled a plastic container of thinner from the bag and poured liquid into the
bowl of rags. Then she closed the thinner and set the bottle on the next shelf
up, right beside another bottle of the same brand. Richard had brought the
thinner home from work. She wondered if he wrote the personal thinner off on
his taxes. She decided even Richard wasn’t moral enough to resist the
write-off.