Chapter Thirty-Two #2
And she would lose her resolve as soon as she saw him.
She would think of the days when he had been “Uncle Jerry” and given her treats and lifted her family out of Gracetown.
Even now, remembering him with his full head of hair and boyish grin made her swallow back thick bile trying to climb higher in her throat.
For the first time, Mazelle wished she had not ripped her telephone out of her lodge’s kitchen wall in September, when Dottie would not stop calling to pester her about when she was coming home to take charge of her children.
Now she had the silence she’d craved at her lodge, but no way to call Grady to tell him to forget about their plan.
And how would she have reached him with a telephone anyway?
Her only hope would have been to call the Redding airport and ask for a public announcement, as dramatic as a climax in a movie.
She might have invented a medical emergency and paged Lorenzo, or paged Grady.
Her inability to try even this unlikely intervention made her breath heavy in her chest, as if her lungs had forgotten their function.
Aren’t you glad to know you can’t do this?
Aren’t you glad to be better than this? Was she still trying to please God the way she had when she was a child?
As soon as Mazelle realized she was congratulating herself, her laugh broke through her tension.
She wasn’t better than this. If she were, then she would only have to make her will known to Scout—and he would not go anywhere near Lorenzo.
Once Lorenzo arrived, Scout would know her heart and follow her true wishes. The hard part wouldn’t be facing Lorenzo—it was facing herself. This was the hard part.
Mazelle took a deep breath. Get it together, Mazelle, she told herself. Remember the plan.
She and Grady had laid out the plan together, since there were no more secrets between them.
Grady kept a wary distance from Scout and had no interest in seeing the face of what he carelessly called “the Beast,” but she had convinced him that Scout was real and was never far from the lodge.
In turn, Mazelle had learned that Grady had a shadier life before he’d met her—he was no stranger to violence as an enforcer for a numbers runner, and her demands of him had reawakened the part of him he had tried to put to sleep.
But that was the part of him she needed.
Maybe she had always sensed his huntsman’s heart beneath his facade of discipline.
More important, he worshipped her. Grady had met Mazelle with sweaty palms at the height of her fame, and fame dazzled almost everyone.
But his adoration also was fueled by something deeper—his desire for purpose and redemption, even.
And he had decided long ago that his mission on this earth was to serve her.
Mazelle had long believed that Grady would be willing to die for her like the Secret Service agents that guarded President Eisenhower.
Not only would he step in front of a bullet for her, but he would help her fire the gun.
That was how she’d known she could tell him her secret about Scout, including how Scout had disposed of Jeff Meek and how she was glad he was gone.
For this reason, Mazelle had been careful never to sleep with Grady, even when she was tempted by his easy company and a pocked face she considered handsome in its ruggedness, so unlike an actor or entertainer.
Sometimes she held hands with him in front of the fireplace when they were alone here, which was more intimacy than she had ever experienced with Richard.
A fifteen-year age difference wouldn’t have mattered to her, but she and Grady could never share a bathroom where he might see her dirty drawers on the floor.
Grady needed to worship her, and she needed his worship.
Especially today.
They must be in the car by now, Mazelle thought.
Lorenzo’s flight should have arrived more than an hour ago.
Mazelle had instructed Grady to drive him straight to Bear Creek Lodge without any stops, so no one in McCloud would see him.
Lorenzo was an ostentatious dresser and loud talker, so locals would notice a quick encounter with him and remember him later, when he went missing.
And Lorenzo could not be tied to her driver on the day he vanished.
His disappearance would make national news, not just in The Hollywood Reporter.
But police probably would think the mob had finally gotten to him.
Grady thought so too. They were betting everything on the hope that Lorenzo had lied about where he was going, the way he had promised when he called.
Believe me, I don’t want anyone to know more than you don’t, he said.
When the time came, would she taunt Lorenzo? Give him a speech? Or would she turn to walk away as soon as Scout was upon him? (Or would she say nothing and just watch?)
Through the window, the long nose of a red car appeared on the road. It was the Caddy! Mazelle bounced on her toes, excitement flaring. So much for her worry about losing her resolve.
Grady dutifully turned on his slow-flashing blinker, although he was probably alone on the two-lane road, then he drove up the driveway to the courtyard, tires squelching through the melting snow. As the car got closer to the lodge, Mazelle saw Lorenzo sitting in the back.
This was too easy. Like giving candy to a baby.
He saw her too. He had been gesticulating, talking on and on as usual, but when he stared at her through his car window, he raised his hand in a tentative wave. She raised her hand back. His grin filled up his window. After all these years, he thought he had her.
Laughter rang from the porch. Mazelle had expected to open the door, but she watched their approach for so long that Grady beat her to it and let them both in. Lorenzo was red in the face from laughter, and Grady was smiling too.
“You gotta be kidding me!” Lorenzo said to Grady. “I get it, you’re a Giants fan, but sudden-death overtime doesn’t lie, my friend. You can’t take that away from Baltimore.”
Their jovial entrance threw Mazelle off for a few frantic blinks of her eyes.
Lorenzo and Grady sounded like fast friends.
But then Grady gave her the same look he’d given her when he returned from disposing of Jeff Meek’s car: The job is done.
He was smiling, but not in his eyes. Grady was a cold piece of work.
“Brought him here just like you asked, ma’am,” Grady said. “Do you need anything else from me?” Mazelle wondered if he was giving her a chance to change her mind, but she felt more sanguine than she had in days.
“No thank you, Grady,” she said. “I’ve got it from here.”
“I’ll say you do,” Lorenzo said, taking off his hat as he stared at Mazelle.
He was wearing a stylish suede overcoat, probably an Italian cut, with a black turtleneck and slacks.
He had dressed up for her. Grady helped him out of his coat and hung it on the hooks near the door.
He and Lorenzo were a similar height, so maybe the coat would fit him.
“I’ll be in the cabin across the way if you need me,” Grady said, and excused himself with a nod. He and Mazelle had decided in advance that it wasn’t enough for him to go up to the attic—she wanted Lorenzo to have his guard down, believing they were alone in the house.
She would fix him a drink. She would flirt and chitchat.
Then she would say, Before we go upstairs, I’d like to show you my ski trail.
Since the snow in the rest of the yard was so patchy, that was where the snow was densest, where Scout could move the most freely.
Even better, Scout could pull Lorenzo down the trail and remove him from her property with ease.
Scout would know what she wanted him to do.
But Lorenzo stood in the foyer. He’d barely taken a step into the living room.
“Feeling shy?” she said, almost unable to hide her sarcasm. He had missed his chances to be shy and keep a polite distance.
“Mazelle…” Lorenzo said, making a plaintive gesture with his hands that looked like surrender. “I don’t know what to say. I’m tongue-tied like I’m in high school. This place is beautiful. You look like a million bucks. I never thought… I would be here, that’s all.”
“I never pegged you as a guy who gives up if a girl plays hard to get.” She moved quickly to her liquor cabinet. A drink or two would loosen him up fast.
“Nothing for me, sorry,” he said. “Unless you’ve got seltzer or ginger ale. I blew a stop sign last month and nearly got hit by a bus. Cop was an actor, so he let me off with a chance to do background. But Maria said to stop drinking or else.”
Lorenzo sounded nervous. He was babbling. And why the hell bring up his wife?
“Maria’s not here, is she?” Mazelle said. She poised the bottle, ready to pour.
“Still,” Lorenzo said. “No thanks. I’m better off without it. It made me an asshole.”
Instead of pouring a drink for him, Mazelle poured a splash into the glass for herself. “Can’t argue with that,” she said before she could think better of it.
As if her truth had set him free, Lorenzo ventured into the living room, finally shifting his eyes away from her to the decor.
He brushed his hand across the white baby grand piano.
“Jesus, this is fantastic, what you’ve done here,” he said.
“I always heard about this place, but… like I said, I never thought I’d see it. No whites allowed, right?”