Chapter 50
Releasing Judgment as we accept our past allows us to follow the call to spiritual awakening.
CAL
Iam shaking as I walk up the stone steps of my cottage. Marci takes my arm to steady me.
Does this mean I’m free? Why hasn’t Laura called me? I sent a text to her.
Marci sits for a while on the porch with me. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.” I make our favorite cocktail, a gin tonic with a splash of St. Germaine. We sip and rock together as the sun sets through the trees.
I can finally breathe. It feels as if I’ve been holding my breath for the last three months. I inhale the pungent fragrance of the gardenia bushes beside my front door.
As dusk falls, Marci leaves to touch base with the dinner chef at Serendipity. I go inside but I leave the door open to enjoy the fragrance of the flowers.
I pour another cocktail and I contemplate the damage to my reputation as a psychiatrist, a professor, an author, and a healer. Is it reversible? Or will my life story always be tainted by, “once accused of murder.”
I want to call Danny and celebrate with him. No. He has made it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me.
Why hasn’t Laura texted back?
I walk into the living room. Startled, I dropped the drink. Shards of glass scatter all over the brick floor.
“Juliet!”
“Hello, Dr. Cassidy.” There is a wild light in Juliet’s eyes. Her pupils were pinpoints. She’s on something. Keep her calm.
It occurs to me that I may not be dealing with Juliet. It could be Darryl or Marlene.
Juliet is holding a gun in her hand. She is wearing purple surgical gloves.
“Juliet?”
“She’s indisposed.”
“Are you Marlene?”
“No, she died of lung cancer last week. I’m Mandy.”
“Mandy, it is nice to meet you.”
Juliet/Mandy looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“Really? You think this is going to be a pleasant experience? I’d rethink that if I were you. It’s time for you to confess to Paul’s murder and then kill yourself. How pleasant do you think that will be, moron?” The contempt with which she speaks is palpable.
“Those stupid pigs came to my door last week and yesterday, too. A cop car has been parked on my street for days, spying on me.
“It is time for you to write your confession, about how you killed poor Paul to exact revenge for his cheating, lying ways, and then swallow some pills.” She takes a plastic packet of pills from her hoodie jacket and tosses it. “Catch!”
Without thinking, I caught the packet.
“Now your fingerprints are on the package of pills. Just like they were on the package of cyanide that killed Paul.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You really are too trusting, Cal. Or maybe you’re just stupid.”
She waves the gun and motions me to sit on the sofa. Shards of the broken cup pierce my feet. “Ouch! Hey, can I just…”
“Shut up,” Juliet pushes me to the sofa. The floor was slippery with blood from my injuries, but the brick floor is quickly absorbing it. Juliet closes the front door and locks it. She sits on the chair by the door, opposite the sofa.
“When Abigail started seeing Paul it was so easy to fool you. She mimicked Paul’s voice, ‘Hey, Callie, listen, I need to meet the developer over in Grant Park to go over the floor plans for Park Side. I don’t know what time I’ll be home. Don’t wait up.’ We made fun of your stupidity.
“Everything was perfect until you went psycho on us. Throwing rocks through the windows. Egging his car. Coming to Abigail’s office and bashing in our windshield. Paul dumped Abigail just to get you off his back. And I had to listen to that bitch whine about it for months.” She cocks the gun. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
This can’t be happening. This can’t be how it ends.
“I can’t believe how easy it was to make it look like you killed Paul. You never missed the cup and the bottle of wine I stole from you and left at his house.” She laughs. “Juliet really wanted to take the Manolo Blahniks with her after she killed Paul, but Darryl and I wouldn’t let her. It made such a nice tableau we couldn’t bear to spoil it.”
A loud knock at the door startles me.
“Get rid of whoever that is,” commands Juliet, “or I will kill them too.”
I move like a zombie to the door, leaving a trail of blood. I open it a crack.
Danny is standing on my front porch with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Can I come in? I want to talk about the other day.” Danny pushes on the door; I wedge my bleeding foot in the doorway and meet his push with resistance.
“Danny, it has been a long day and I have a horrible headache. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.” I try to close the door but can’t. Danny pushes harder. My foot is being crushed between the door and the doorframe. Juliet’s gun is shoved between my shoulder blades.
“Danny, please, I’m really tired. Not tonight. Tomorrow, I promise.”
I know there is no tomorrow for me. But I will not let this madwoman hurt Danny.
“Hey, you’re bleeding.” He rams the door open, and I stumble back. Juliet points the gun in his face.