The People Next Door Page 25

  She changed lanes on 30th and worked her way up to the front, amazed to find the parking lot half-empty. The awfully planned plaza was usually a hamster farm of Priuses, the sidewalks clotted with enough pedestrians to make one think the store was giving away free coffee colonics – an added-value service that actually wouldn’t surprise her if it were offered in little stalls between the non-dairy case and bulk spices – and the sight of so many vacant spaces seemed an ominous development.

  But Cassandra said it was important, so she parked. She didn’t see either of the Rovers, but maybe Cass wasn’t here yet.

  For the first few minutes she simply browsed the bright space, trudging past the salad bar, sushi bar, burrito bar, coffee bar, deli, massage stations, and sparkling wine sample tables, the fresh faces above the green aprons tracking her movements, ready to thrust a slab of Nor wegian salmon or tub of in-house-roasted peanut butter upon her with the zeal of airport pamphleteers. The sheer variety and specificity of so many innovative foods assaulted her with a casino’s torrent of sensory overload.

  She rounded an aisle lined with gourmet soda and corn chips the color of Christmas ornaments and found herself bellying up to a table displaying a slow cooker full of what appeared to be potted meat but was in fact Not Quite Chicken! simmering in a vegetable and white bean bouillabaisse. A gaunt man with a brisk gray beard and skin the color of wax paper handed her a paper cup with a tiny wooden spoon leaning out of it, his bulbous eyes blinking rapidly.

  ‘Taste our three-season amino soup? It’s our gluten-free pick of the week.’

  ‘Thank you … Bruce.’ She slid the contents back in a shot and stifled a cough of disgust. She owned socks that tasted better. ‘Mmm, that’s unique.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Bruce agreed. ‘Only four hundred calories per quart. Zero sodium or fat, high in fiber. I have customers who make a whole pot and eat it for days. It’s full of anti-oxidants and really cleanses just superbly.’

  Amy smirked. ‘And, uhm, how do I make that? Does it come in a package?’

  Bruce proceeded to explain which ingredients from which aisle she would need, but the instructions went on for over two minutes and Amy lost track of the entire scheme somewhere between kale flakes and psyllium husk powder.

  ‘Sounds great. Good luck with the … that.’ She walked away quickly.

  She was standing in the produce section, smoothing her palm over a crate filled with avocados the size of croquet balls, $7.99 each, when a woman spoke behind her.

  ‘I thought that was you. Oh, this is perfect.’

  Amy brightened as she turned, but it wasn’t Cass.

  Rita Larson, she of the daughter with the fork-tined face, was barreling at her and digging in her purse as if for a weapon. Her corked clogs halted within kicking distance and a cloud of patchouli roiled over Amy. Rita’s newfound martyrdom had added a glowing vibrancy to her usual harried Bohemian frump, or perhaps she was just really pissed off. She removed a folded document from her purse and thrust the papers against Amy’s chest with a whack.

  ‘This belongs to you. I suggest you pay it, unless you want to see me in court.’

  ‘Rita—’ Amy began.

  ‘I have witnesses.’

  ‘I’m not disputing the accident, but please, can we sit down for a minute and talk? They’re kids. No one wants—’

  ‘Accident? Are you joking? That monster of yours assaulted my daughter.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s quite that clear-cut. Please let me explain—’

  ‘Seventeen thousand dollars,’ Rita hissed. Amy glanced down at the bill, unable to read the numbers. ‘Not to mention the trauma. Tami’s entire summer is ruined. She’s afraid of her friends. You’re lucky she doesn’t need plastic surgery. You’re lucky she isn’t blind.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Amy said softly.

  ‘Goddamn right you are.’

  There were others in the produce aisle. Amy could feel them watching her. It was the Vo-Tech parking lot again, only worse, for this time she was guilty. Grief over some loss greater than good will between parents broke and spread inside her. It was about Mick, and Kyle, and Briela. The restaurant, her weight, her students. Her life was out of control, edging into ruin, and now she was going to have a breakdown in public.

  ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’ Rita said, encouraged by Amy’s stunned silence. ‘Does your daughter have any idea what she’s done? How absolutely wrong she was? How dangerous she has become? What kind of punishment will she receive, Amy, that’s what I want to know. Where is the responsibility in that house of yours?’

  Amy forced herself to meet Rita’s eyes. ‘My daughter’s not well,’ she managed. ‘We’re dealing with some personal problems, Mick and … I don’t expect … it’s all so … haven’t you ever felt like … Don’t you understand that if I could change it … this is a very difficult time, is what I’m saying, Rita.’ Was any of this getting through?

  ‘Oh, spare me. You’re not fooling anybody, Amy. I know you. You were a selfish bitch in high school and you’re a selfish bitch now. You think you and your husband are hot shit because you own that restaurant, but you’re just like everyone else in this town. With your big house and your precious family assistant. Turning your daughter’s birthday party into another showcase for your conspicuous consumption. It’s grotesque. Your life is grotesque. You’re a taker, that’s what you are. You take and take and you have no decency.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Amy said. ‘If I went too far, it was only because I love my—’

  ‘Save it. Enjoy it while it lasts. Because you’re headed for a big fall, sweetheart. Don met with the district attorney and he knows things. He plays golf with your accountant and he knows plenty. Your husband is in deep shit and you’re going to get what’s coming to you. And guess what – I don’t care. All I care about is that you pay that medical bill before you file for bankruptcy and stick the rest of us with your bad decisions, do you understand me? I want that bill paid and I want a letter of apology and I want your daughter to—’

  ‘Excuse me. What the hell is going on here?’ another woman piped up behind Amy, her voice calm and firm. Amy was too poleaxed to recognize it, but when she turned and saw Cassandra Render standing there with a bag of lemons in one hand, dressed as if she had just stepped out of a singles bar, a wave of gratitude broke over her with such force she could have kneeled. Cass winked at Amy and then pushed herself between the two parties. ‘Are you harassing my friend?’

  Rita’s head reared back. ‘What business is it of yours? Who are you?’

  On the other side of the potatoes and onions pyramids, a male couple in matching art-school glasses and Under Armour shirts paused to enjoy the show. A stock girl pushing a dolly loaded with Japanese melons moved past the women, double-taking off the confrontational vibe that had just gone from heated to ice cold with a slight chance of violence.

  Cass took another step toward Rita and her eyes narrowed. ‘Honey, you don’t want to know who I am. But what you better know, before you speak another word, is that Amy’s business is my business. So why don’t you start by lowering your voice, Rita.’

  Rita gasped, and Amy saw the first twinge of fear in her eyes.

  Rita said, ‘Fine. Your friend is responsible for nearly blinding my daughter.’

  Cass barked with laughter. The gay couple joined in, then averted their eyes when Rita shot them her disapproval.

  ‘You think that’s funny?’ Rita said to Cass. ‘You think a little girl spending the night in the emergency room is funny?’

  ‘I do, actually,’ Cass said, and her voice remained as smooth and sweet as June Cleaver’s. ‘Because I happen to know it was hardly more than a scratch, and that Tami had it coming. That’s right, Rita. Your little butterball is a bully, and now we all see where she gets it. And if there’s one thing I hate more than bullies, it’s parents who turn a blind eye when their children prey on others.’

  ‘You tell her, sista.’ This from on
e of the guys in his gym clothes.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Rita snapped. ‘Briela attacked Tami out of the blue. Everyone saw it. You weren’t even there, so please, just don’t.’

  ‘Well, jeez, that’s not what Theo Havas’s father says,’ Cass said. ‘Larry Havas saw Tami threaten Briela in the bathroom five minutes before she was forced to defend herself with a plastic fork. He overheard your little porker tell Briela that she was going to cut off all her hair if she didn’t give Tami half her birthday money, and he’s willing to give a statement to that effect.’ Cass produced a cell phone, wiggled it between two fingers. ‘Want me to call him? He said anytime. He was rather disgusted and – as a local business owner with republican allies in the state legislature – he’s fed up with frivolous lawsuits, especially at the hands of the uninsured.’

  Rita’s mouth fell open. ‘How dare – this is outrageous. You’re lying. Lying through your teeth! And even if that were true, which it is not, that’s no excuse for violence.’

  ‘Violence?’ Cass said. ‘You want to talk about violence? Why don’t you share with Amy the little event that transpired in the coat room of Mrs Tally’s second-grade class last March? Something involving a pair of scissors, your daughter, and a boy named Douglas Erickson?’

  Scarlet blotches crawled up Rita’s neck.

  ‘Well?’ Cass said.

  Rita’s body trembled, her eyes watered, and she seemed poised to explode. But it passed, she sagged with exhaustion, as if forfeiting the entire complaint … then sprang forward grasping for Amy’s throat. A split second before she was to be strangled, Amy felt Cass take her arm and pull, a mother yanking her child out of traffic.

  Rita grasped at air. Something on the floor squeaked. A single felt clog flung backward and Rita slammed face-first onto the tile floor with the sound of a coconut struck with a claw-hammer.

  The produce girl eeeked.

  One of the Under Armour gentlemen said, ‘Oh my God, that was so Naomi.’

  But they couldn’t see how bad it was, none of them could. At first.

  Rita began to moan again, in a way that was more disturbing than at the party. A brisk managerial young man with a name tag reading Cal rushed in warning everyone not to move her, but Rita was already worming herself sideways, then rolling over. Her nose had ruptured and two streams had spread down her chin. Her lips were peeled back and her entire mouth looked like a broken bowl of grape jelly.

  ‘What happened here?’ Cal demanded. ‘Someone call 9-1-1.’

  ‘She tried to attack us,’ Cass said, with what sounded like real remorse.

  ‘I saw it,’ the produce girl said. ‘She totally lost it and slipped.’

  Amy covered her mouth and ran away. She could no longer bear standing there, looking at Rita’s teeth, one lying in a pool of the blood, two others embedded and standing upright in the tile, snapped off at the roots. She was crying from the realization that she had enjoyed seeing Rita fall, had been wishing violence upon the woman from the moment she had appeared. She was sickened by the coldness settling into her heart. She couldn’t help feeling as though everything she touched or came near these days inspired physical harm to others. It was as if she had become a radioactive being whose mere presence tainted all other living things.

  Cass joined her in the parking lot a few minutes later. They leaned against the Passat’s hood, smoking a couple of Cass’s Benson & Hedges Golds as the paramedics loaded Rita into the back of the ambulance. Tami’s mother had walked out with her head up, a giant wad of white towels held to her face, but the paramedics were steering her as Cal followed at their heels, handing them each a business card. The ambulance lights flashed a few times for show but the siren stayed mute.

  ‘That poor woman,’ Cass said when the ambulance was gone.

  Amy felt detached, worn out. ‘How did you know she would be here?’

  Cass issued a stream of blue smoke at the sky. ‘She always does her shopping at this time.’

  ‘You’ve been following her?’

  Cass flicked ash, took another drag.

  ‘Cassandra?’ Amy said. ‘Did you plan this? How did you know those things about her daughter? Who have you been talking to?’

  Cass rolled her eyes. ‘I knew she had it in for you and I thought it would be better if we dealt with her sooner than later. So I did a little homework. But I didn’t plan anything, Amy. How could I? The woman slipped. You saw her. Gawd, I don’t take any shit, but I’m not obsessed. You should be relieved she didn’t succeed in trying to strangle you.’

  ‘She’s going to sue me.’

  ‘No, she won’t. This took the wind out of her sails.’

  ‘How do you know that? You don’t know that.’

  ‘I’ll never let anything happen to you,’ Cass said. ‘You’re too important to me.’

  Amy tossed her cigarette. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why am I so important to you?’

  ‘We’re friends,’ Cass said. ‘You’ve welcomed me into your home.’

  ‘No, really. Tell me the truth. Why are you and Vince so interested in our problems? The night we first met, then the birthday party, tonight. And I don’t even know what Mick and Vince got into the other night at the restaurant, but it wasn’t good. You two keep showing up at the strangest moments.’

  Cass’s smile had been shrinking during this turn in the conversation. She looked unprepared, hurt.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Cass said, sniffing. ‘I thought we were friends, but perhaps I’ve assumed too much.’

  ‘And I appreciate that,’ Amy said. ‘I really do. But I just … there’s so much I don’t understand about you. You never talk about yourself. It’s always me, my problems, Mick and me. I’m not used to this kind of attention.’

  Cass was staring off across the parking lot. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘See, now I feel like I’m prying,’ Amy said. ‘That’s not my—’

  ‘Wake up.’ Cass’s eyes had gone cold, glossy and dark.

  ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Stop living your life in a dream and face the truth.’

  ‘Okay. I’m not sure I understand that.’

  ‘Deal with your husband,’ Cass said. ‘Get him in line. Bring him and the kids to the barbecue Saturday. Vince will explain everything. And stop being such a baby, Amy. You know. Deep down, you know what’s coming. This will help you. Our … my husband is going to change your life. The least you can do is show some gratitude.’

  Amy stared at her friend, their eyes locked in a kind of symbiotic feeding. Amy had the strangest feeling that Cass was thriving on her, literally drawing energy from her like a dead car battery connected with jumper cables. Since her first timid appearance on the patio, the woman had gained strength, blossomed, taken on a … power. Amy could think of nothing to compare it to, but she didn’t think the woman was entirely real in the most basic human way that word implied. Or rather, she was real, but also something else. She was feeding on Amy, driving her toward bad things, in the manner of what Amy’s mother might have called, in her Sunday school fervor, a demon.

  Cass said, ‘You understand what is at stake now.’

  Amy looked away, unable to meet the woman’s eyes another second.

  ‘Some day our house, our fortune, everything that is keeping us secure will be yours. But it doesn’t come free. Vince and I will help, but you have to do your part, Amy. Starting with Mick and the children.’

  Amy was scared now. She did not know what she was agreeing to, but something deep inside her wanted to agree, wanted to find out what was coming, where it would lead them. She felt like crying again, then realized she was crying.

  ‘I have to go home and talk to Mick,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Cass said. ‘He needs to know you’re committed to your future. He needs to be reminded what’s at stake. If you come to us, there will be no more nightmares. Briela’s tantrums will cease. Kyle will no longer be ost
racized. Mick will be strong again and your family will be at peace for all your remaining days.’

  ‘I know.’

  Cass took her by the chin. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes.’ And she did not know how or why or in what, but in that moment, Amy believed.

  Cass released her and walked to her black Range Rover. Amy drove home feeling that something inside of her had changed, that a portion of her soul had just been cut away and bartered. She didn’t know what for, only that it was bigger than all of them.

  48

  At the same time that Amy was leaving Whole Foods, Mick was sitting in his truck two blocks from his accountant’s house, waiting – hoping against all logic – for the thief to come home. But after spending three hours staking out his quarry in its native habitat, there had been no sign of Sapphire’s powder blue Lexus. Neither Eugene’s nor his wife Virginia’s car (a white Mercedes wagon, as of their annual Christmas party two years ago) were in the driveway. This road was the only way out of the neighborhood. Which meant that the couple were out of town or the cars were in the garage and they were in the house.

  Every instinct told him that his intuition – the vision he had experienced when Sapphire clapped him on the shoulder – was correct. The accountant was Mick’s embezzler. Render had confirmed as much and the evidence was sitting in Mick’s crawl space. The question now was, what had Render done to get the money back? And if Sapphire had not given it back without a fight, if Render had done something to Sapphire similar to what he had done to the hooligans Saturday night, what was Mick prepared to do about it?

  He could go to the police, call Terry Fielding and report that his new neighbor was blackmailing him, dragging him into some violent scheme for God knows what purpose. But he would only be opening himself to more questions, bringing to light his role in the parking lot assault-turned-massacre. It was self-defense, at least on Mick’s part, but as Render had pointed out, Mick’s fingerprints were on the bat. And where was the bat, anyway? Did that warning mean Render was keeping it in case Mick turned on him? The man had not seemed worried enough about Mick running to the police to even bother with such measures.