Chapter Twenty-Six #3
“Oh, please, call them,” he said as he sat on the couch, getting her couch cushions wet. “I’ll be happy to tell them what Bailey did to me.”
At the mention of Bailey’s name, she felt a stirring. She glanced at Jack. He looked worried.
“Who are you looking at?” Clutch said, frustrated by her silence. “Your granddaughter tried to kill me. I think half my ribs are broken. And look at my fucking face.”
“Don’t use that language in my house.”
“I’ll use any language I want. You don’t seem to understand that I hold all the cards here. Bailey hit me with her car.” He shook the car part he was holding. “This is her mirror.”
“If you’re trying to blackmail me, young man, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
“Okay,” Clutch said. “How about this? She did it on purpose.”
“And what possible reason would she have to hit you on purpose?”
“You mean how would the great Bailey Wester even know I existed? The only reason she went to the bonfire tonight was to meet me. I have the texts to prove it. She knew what she was getting into. But just as we were getting to the good part, she changed her mind. I could have gone after her when she ran. I could have killed her in those woods. But I didn’t.
All I did was smack her. But she was so mad at me that she aimed for me on that road. Did you hear that? Aimed.”
But the only thing Willamena heard was that he’d tried to force himself on Bailey. He’d hit her. She barely even registered Jack saying, “Call the police. That’s all you have to do.”
“I think you’re beginning to understand,” Clutch said. “Good. Go wake up your son. You Westers are going to pay for this, big-time.”
“You don’t need to talk to my son,” she said. “I control the Wester purse strings.”
He snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Follow me. You’re getting my couch cushions wet.”
At the dining room table she indicated one of the wooden chairs. “Have a seat. We can discuss this like civilized people. Would you like some tea? What about ice for your face?”
He set the mirror on the table and it clattered. “Tea? Try whiskey.”
Willamena went to the kitchen and just stood there for a moment, her heart racing.
She didn’t drink, but she knew Tug sometimes had a glass in his office in the evenings.
She opened his office door and looked through his desk drawers until she found a bottle of Maker’s Mark.
She went back to the kitchen and took two glasses out of the cabinet and poured some liquor into them.
Then she took the bottle of sleeping pills out of her robe pocket.
“What are you doing, Wills?” Jack asked.
She didn’t answer as she quickly crushed the pills between two spoons and stirred them into his drink.
“Please don’t do this. You’re going to regret it. It’s history repeating itself,” Jack said, following her as she returned to the dining room to find Clutch rifling through the china cabinet, obviously looking for something more valuable than her grandmother’s Blue Willow dishes.
She set his drink on the table and he sat and grabbed the glass. “Should I lift my pinkie in the air while I drink?”
“If you wish.” Willamena took a seat and sipped her drink. It burned her tongue.
He gulped his whole glass down, probably just because he thought it would bother her. But the only thing that bothered her was the white film left in the glass. He still had time to get very angry if he saw it. But he didn’t look at the glass. He was watching her, so she continued to sip.
After a several minutes of this, he leaned back in the chair and set his feet on the table.
She didn’t flinch. “Why is everyone scared of you? Up close, you’re not scary at all.
You’re just an old woman. And this is just an old house.
” He pointed to the china cabinet. “Your dishes are even chipped.”
“Are they?”
“Yeah.” His eyelids were growing heavy. She didn’t want to make any sudden movements, so she kept rhythmically drinking, imaginary sips now, because the glass was empty. “I feel sorry for you.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before. Thank you.”
His head kept jerking back as he tried to stay awake. “Why are you thanking me?”
Jack had been watching sadly from the other end of the table. He finally turned and left the room.
“No one else sees it,” she said honestly. “Everything I touch wilts.”
“I know the feeling.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he finally fell asleep.
“I’m sure you do,” she said as she set her glass down.
Willamena had always been strong. It came with having to do all the work on the house herself, because she could never dare to let anyone in.
But it took every bit of her strength to drag Clutch out of the dining room, a room she’d chosen for him to sit in, not because she was worried about her couch cushions, but because it was closest to the backyard.
She pulled something in her shoulder, and nearly cried out in pain, but still managed to pull him to the edge of the lawn.
From there, it was easy enough to roll him down. She watched him land in the creek.
And then the current took him away.