Chapter 42 #2
“Twenty percent of what?” Shit. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. Rick holds the dishcloth to his face—to stop the bleeding from his nose that I broke as I preen to myself—but a slow creepy smile spreads across his face, quickly transforming the pride I felt into terror.
His vein isn’t throbbing, but instead of that being a reassuring sign, it has the opposite effect.
He looks calm. Way too damn calm.
“You know what’s better than twenty percent of a multi-million-dollar life insurance payout, Kane?” Rick calls over his shoulder as he cocks his gun.
“I don’t know, that sounds pretty good to me.” The dumbass really can’t read the room.
Rick turns toward Kane. “Sure, but you know what’s even better? Not having to share the payout with anyone.”
My stupid mouth opens again. “Are you talking about my mom? Did you kill her for her life insurance?”
Rick’s steps toward Kane freeze, and he turns, slowly like a creepy display at a haunted house that’s broken and moving even slower than it should, before changing his path to walk deliberately back to me, stopping just before he reaches me on the kitchen floor.
Shit.
He casually leans his hip against the counter, as though he has all the time in the world and he just stopped by for a friendly visit—and didn’t just commit a host of crimes in my home.
But nothing is casual about Rick, not today, not ever.
Everything is calculated, and if it’s not a part of his agenda, it doesn’t fit into his life.
“You dumb little girl. No one killed your mama, the only person responsible for Bridget’s death is Bridget herself.
And I sure as shit did not have life insurance on her; she wasn’t insurable with how fucking drunk she was all the damn time.
” He’s not wrong. I don’t have memories of my mother being sober in my life, regardless what time of day it was.
“She was, however, fucking annoying. It got even worse when she did that stint at that fancy rehab your brother conned Bridget into going to with those fake promises of financial stability and being reunited with her kids, and blah blah blabbity blah.” He sighs like we’re talking about a quarterback fumbling a play in a big game … not the murder of my mother.
“She didn’t care about having a relationship with you two brats.
Did you really ever think that was a factor?
No, she just wanted the money, but your brother had too many rules and hoops that she had to jump through like a fucking circus dog.
She should’ve just stayed there, but no, she crawled back, only to bitch and moan about how ungrateful everyone in her life is—you, Wells, me.
And I know it doesn’t make sense because I was long overdue for some peace and quiet, but if I had wanted your mama dead, she would have been gone years ago.
I didn’t have anything to do with her death, and honestly, I was a little bummed to hear about it.
” He shrugs. “I guess I can be sentimental, but is anyone surprised that drunk went and drank herself to death? I mean, really, it’s amazing she lived as long as she did. ”
A shrill bark of laughter erupts from Debbie Jo.
“You dumbass, Rick. You still don’t see it?
” Like a switch has been flipped, Debbie Jo’s face contorts as though she is grief stricken and upset.
“Honestly, Officer, I wish she would’ve gotten off the bottle.
I loved Bridget. She was the closest thing I had to a sister, personal demons and all, but sometimes, you can’t love someone enough to make them love themselves enough to get sober.
I told her mixing those pain meds with the booze wasn’t safe and she,” she wipes away at non-existent tears, “she swore she wouldn’t do it again.
I can’t believe she’s really gone!” Her pain sounds so believable.
She shakes her fists at the ceiling in anguish before breaking her act and dissolving in a booming laugh.
Apparently, neither Rick nor Debbie Jo know that the authorities are now investigating her death as a homicide.
And they clearly don’t know that I know about the insulin shot that killed my mother.
Debbie Jo's acting facade falls as she smooths the front of her dress with one hand, keeping the other one behind her back before continuing, "Rick didn't have anything to do with Bridget's murder. He wouldn’t ever do that to her, God only knows why. But like always, I’m left to take matters into my own hands and clean up other people’s messes. And … she needed to shut the hell up for good.”
“What are you talking about, Debbie Jo?” Rick whips his head at his sister, wide-eyed and the vein starts to bulge again. His voice is eerily calm as he asks his sister, “What did you do?”
Debbie Jo shrugs unapologetically before looking at me.
“You know, some might say it was poetic or some shit that Bridget went out the same way Rick and your mama took out your daddy. They even had a diabetic neighbor like y’all did in Florida back then to swipe some insulin from, which made it far too easy. ”
My voice unintentionally breaks as I croak out, “My father?”
It’s now Rick’s turn to shrug. “Ah, Mikey, that dumb shit didn’t even see the insulin shot coming when I got him with the syringe.
It only took Bridget and I telling the cops similar stories about Mike complaining of chest pains for the few days before he died for them to write it off as a heart attack.
‘We told him to get it checked out, Officer. But he was so stubborn. Oh, poor, Mike!’ Ha!
” Rick shakes his head like he just told a funny joke.
My father’s death is a funny joke to him.
“But at least when Mike died, he left us a massive pile of cash from the life insurance with the buyout from our business. Overnight, we were millionaires and no longer had to sneak around behind your daddy’s back. But wait … Debbie Jo, what did you do?”
Debbie Jo’s confession seems to have finally sunk into Rick’s egotistical brain.
“It wasn’t even hard. She was so drunk that day; she barely even flinched when I gave her the shot,” Debbie Jo adds before leaning against the counter like this is all a normal conversation. “Honestly, Rick, you kept her around for way too long.”
“But to what end? All Bridget ever left behind were messes of empty bottles of booze.” Rick cocks his head to study his sister. “She was a shit housekeeper too and a fucking terrible cook. What do you get out of it?”
“I just wanted you to be happy and free, Rick.” Debbie Jo blinks and I think she’s trying to look innocent, but I don’t buy her act. “She didn’t deserve you.”
“You didn’t have permission to do that, Debbie Jo, but you’re lucky I’m a forgiving person.
” Rick starts to turn back to me but freezes as somewhere behind him the distinct clack that sounds like the slide of a gun being racked back bounces off the penthouse walls.
Rick stills and turns back to his sister. “Debbie Jo, what are you doing?”
Debbie Jo slides off the barstool and raises her gun—now pointing it at her brother. “I’m sick of waiting, Rick.”
“Just tell him, babe,” Kane groans from the floor.
“Tell me what?” Rick barks as Debbie Jo rolls her eyes.
She waves her other hand away, like batting a fly. “He’s delusional, it must be from blood loss.” She reaches her hand out toward Kane. “Just give it to me, Kane. I’ll do it myself,” Debbie Jo shrieks, but Kane stays on the floor.
“We’re leaving you and everyone else behind,” Kane says as Debbie Jo shakes her head at her brother, who is now laughing.
“I’m not kidding, Kane. Give it to me now!” Debbie Jo shakes her hand for emphasis, but Kane doesn’t reach toward her.
“Well, I’ve had enough of this bullshit.
Debbie Jo … why would you kill my wife and why do you keep calling my sister ‘babe,’ Kane?
What the fuck is going on here?” Rick turns and lowers the now-soaked bloody towel and glowers at Kane as he bleeds on my foyer.
“Did you touch my sister when I told you she was off limits too, Kane?”
“You already know that answer,” Kane groans from the floor.
Debbie Jo’s head snaps up as her bravado flees the room faster than rats jumping from a sinking ship. “He’s delusional, really, don’t listen to him.” Debbie Jo tries to physically steer her brother away from Kane, but Rick isn’t moving like she wants.
“Oh, no, I already listened to him,” Rick replies, causing Debbie Jo to freeze. “Kane and I already had quite the heart-to-heart before your arrival today. So, when you ask if he brought the one thing you told him to … did you mean the access numbers to those Swiss bank accounts or this?”
Rick reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small object, no bigger than a pen that he twirls between his fingers.
“You lack the patience and creativity to run the show, Debbie Jo. In an ironic twist, the entire reason I knew you were going to double cross me was because of my own late wife, before you went and killed her.” Rick barks out a laugh.
“You killed Bridget for money you would never see because she had already warned me.”
Debbie Jo’s head rears back. “Warned you about what?”
“See, when you went to whatever number ex-husband, George Alderman, or was it, Jerry Alderman? Well, now, that’s just confusing.
” Rick laughs at his own joke. “I guess when you marry brothers, they also would share cousins, huh? Anyway, when you went to Josh Alderman, cousin to”—Rick waves his hand around erratically—“two of your ex-husbands, Josh was concerned that you had nefarious intent and you overlooked an important detail.”
Debbie Jo lowers the gun slightly, and the tremble in her hand is obvious. “What do you mean?”
“You forgot that for some reason, Josh Alderman always thought Bridget was sweet. So, when you asked him to help you with his minor hacking skills, he actually became the unintentional whistleblower to your plan.”
“No, no. Josh wouldn’t … He can’t do that. I paid him!” Debbie Jo hollers.