Our Turn

I’m getting worked up, but I’m trying not to show it. Turning over a new leaf, and all that. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Where are you taking her things?”

“Storage. She’ll get a notice, and if she pays her arrears plus the storage costs, plus administration, she’ll get it all back.”

“Unacceptable. I’ll pay her arrears right now. I’ll pay whatever needs paying. Just tell me how much.”

He looks me up and down, then visibly swallows. “Thing is, he said someone might turn up offering to pay. Said I’m supposed to stick to the rules this time. Said to dump the fish as well, with pets being against the terms and all. Not our problem. The demand will come through in the next day or so—”

I shake my head. “You don’t seem to be listening. I said that’s fucking unacceptable.” It’s clear that this guy has no authority and I’m done chatting about the weather. “Who’s really in charge here?”

“Wesley Havers. County clerk oversees senior services, which is who manages this building.”

Fuck. And all the dominoes suddenly fall into place. I reach into the pocket of my blazer and pull out the card that fuck gave me last night when he was harassing Nicci. When I read the name on the card, I have to fight to keep the anger out of my voice.

“He come ‘round here often?”

The guy nods. “Sure. More than I’d expect, to be honest, but him and Nicci seem to be pretty close. I thought maybe they were an item.”

“They’re not.” Red flames flicker in my vision.

“No, so I see, it’s just…” He trails off, probably wondering whether he wants to get involved. Well, fuck it, he’s involved whether he likes it or not.

“Spill it, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Well, I’ve seen him coming out of her apartment a few times.”

“She there as well?”

He shrugs. “I guess so. He wouldn’t be allowed to enter her apartment without her permission.”

Shit. I know exactly what’s going on here, and I’m going to put an end to it. Unable to keep my cool any longer, I grab the old guy by the collar and slam him up against the door to let him know I’m not kidding around. “Stop loading her things into that van. I’ll send a vehicle to collect everything, including the fucking fish.” I grab my wallet and take out one of my many credit cards, then shove it in his face. “Whatever needs paying, you charge it to this, you hear me? If everything is done as I say, you’ll never see me again. If not, I’ll be back. Do you understand?”

“I’m not allowed to—”

“I said, do you fucking understand?”

He swallows and nods, and I release him, putting the card in his hand.

“And one more thing,” I say as I’m already turning and heading for my Suburban. “I will break one of your fingers for each dead fish.”

13

NICCI

I CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT I’m hearing.

“Oh really, how long ago was that?” Wesley is leaning over the back of Mrs. Morrison’s chair at work, talking to her, but his eyes are on me. “The drinking.”

Mrs. Morrison tries to turn her head to him, but she can’t quite turn it that far. Her face screws up and she giggles. “How long? I don’t know, he took me to the bar just the other night, and I had to call us a cab.”

First, she tells me he lends people money when they need a little extra, and now this? He’s an alcoholic? This can’t be real. Mrs. Morrison must have it wrong.

Wesley laughs. “I bet he can get a bit violent too, right?”

“Only when people can’t pay him back. I mean, it’s his money, he’s entitled to get a bit angry if someone takes him for a sucker.”

I can’t listen anymore. She might not have said the words, but it’s pretty clear what Geo does for a living. A loan shark. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, that’s how he met my mom; that’s why she slept with him. She owed him money, and he took his payment in other ways.

Mrs. Morrison isn’t all there, but things fall into place. The way he refused a drink at dinner, the guy in the bar. The trading money comment.

Turning away, I head back toward the bus, not because I need to drive it anywhere, just because I need somewhere quiet to sit and think. Maybe there’s an explanation. I want there to be an explanation. But Wesley has other ideas.

“I’d like to see you in my office, Nicci.”

“What?” I turn around, tears streaming down my face. “I need a minute.”

He shakes his head, his expression one of amusement rather than compassion or anger. “No, Nicci. Now.”

I open my mouth as I try to find words, but there aren’t any. He’s in charge here, and I’m a nobody. Still, with my mouth open, I nod, then sniff back the tears as I follow him. As soon as we’re inside, he starts drumming his fingers on the top of the desk, perching on the edge as he looks me up and down.