Chapter 14
MARTA
In the wake of the blackmail bomb detonation, the party broke up pretty quickly.
Imogen claimed she had a headache and that she needed to go to bed.
Celeste excused herself to do her skin care routine, and Bernie went upstairs to take a bath.
Marta tidied up on automatic after the others left, blew out the candles, then plunked herself back down on a couch, nursing a finger of Baileys in the dark.
She gazed out into the night at the dark outlines of the pines and the faint ripple of moonlight on the lake.
The slight sway of the wind in the trees made Marta feel like her head was spinning, so she had to look away.
The ice cubes clinked against her glass as she sipped.
She was determined to stay calm and not freak out, and right now the Baileys was the only thing that was helping.
Photos? Blackmail? No matter how hard she tried, Marta couldn’t hold on to the various strands that Imogen had tried to braid into a cohesive narrative.
Marta lifted her glass again and tink, an ice cube bumped against her front teeth, a jolt of cold.
The Baileys was done and so was she. Marta wobbled to the room she’d been forced to share with Celeste, collapsed into bed, and passed out.
An urgent need to pee woke Marta early the next morning.
After relieving herself, she made her way to the kitchen to brew a batch of strong coffee.
She poured herself a large mug with cream and sugar, then took it outside to sit by the lake, which was reflecting the pink-and-orange sky.
Marta let her eyes rest on the water as she thought about the last time she’d seen Derrick, and tried to make sense of what Imogen had said the night before.
Now that she was sober, it was clear that the whole blackmail story, and Imogen’s explanation for not mentioning it sooner, didn’t make any sense.
A twig cracked behind Marta, causing her to slosh coffee onto her lap.
“Good morning, early bird.”
Speak of the devil. “Hey, Imm.” Marta patted the Muskoka chair beside her. “You get some coffee yet? I made a big pot.”
“Nope. Still too hungover for battery acid. All I’ve been able to down is a handful of Advil, Pepto, and a glass of water.” Imogen sighed as she sat down, stretching her arms above her head.
“I’m glad to get you alone.” Marta plucked a fuzzball from her sweatpants. “I need to ask you about what you said last night.”
“About what?” Imogen gave her a confused look.
“Uh, the blackmail? Seeing Derrick the night he went missing? I can’t believe you never told me.
I mean, you saw him before he . . . before he disappeared?
Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Marta tried to keep her voice even, but incredulity seeped out around the edges of her words.
“It’s, like, crazy that you didn’t tell me before now. ”
“I know, babe, I know.” Imogen briefly covered her face with her hands, then lifted her head, her hands pulling down at her cheeks.
“This must seem so strange, but you have to believe me, I was trying to protect you. This is totally sensitive shit and I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the others .
. . Honestly, I shouldn’t have mentioned the blackmail at all. That was the tequila talking.”
“Protect me?” She wanted to shake Imogen. “What are you talking about?”
Imogen sighed. “He wanted to make a big withdrawal from your joint investment in the ITFF, Marty. A lot of money. I have no idea what he needed it for, he wouldn’t say, but the way he tried to go about it was super shady—like, he didn’t want me to tell you about it.
Look, I don’t want to speak ill of . . .
I don’t want to say anything to hurt you, but I guess it’s too late for that now.
I wanted to speak to him in private because I found out that he was having an affair with one of the student teachers at the Academy, and I told him that he needed to come clean to you.
But then he disappeared . . . it didn’t seem right to bring it up then.
Anyways, bottom line is that there was no way I was going to give him your money—that would have been totally unprofessional and unethical, and you know I always have your back.
I met up with him to make my position clear. That’s all it was.”
Marta closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose to centre herself.
“Oh god, okay. So, he was definitely cheating? But you . . . I still don’t understand.
What is the whole blackmail thing about?
” Marta felt as though the plank she’d been walking for weeks had just narrowed to the width of a balance beam.
“I didn’t see anyone around, but someone must have been watching me—or him, I guess—because they took pictures of us. That person sent me photos of us together, implying that I did something to him. Which is bullshit, of course.”
“And you think that someone is one of us.” The wind snatched at Marta’s words, making them almost inaudible.
“Not you, obviously. But yeah, one of the other girls. It’s really messed up, but absolutely not worth wasting police time on. I keep asking myself who is trying to make me suffer.”
Marta nodded, wondering how Imogen could be so dense.
If anyone was suffering, it was her, not Imogen.
And this blackmail thing—as much as Imogen claimed it was nothing—it definitely cast Derrick’s disappearance in a new light.
Marta wondered if she should inform the police about it when they got back, or whether that would be a mistake. “Who do you think it is?”
Imogen tilted her head back to stare at the wispy clouds streaking the blue sky.
It was a remarkably clear and beautiful morning.
“If I had to guess, I’d say Celeste . . .
she definitely needs the money. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m going to, so don’t repeat it to anyone.
Harry left her in a really bad financial situation when he passed.
So yeah, I could see her getting creative.
The emails I received asked me for thousands of dollars, but of course I haven’t paid a dime. ”
“You think she’d be that desperate?” asked Marta. “I guess I don’t know her that well, we’ve never really clicked. I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“Between us, I think I may have to let her go. I take the ITFF very seriously, and if I have these kinds of doubts about her, there’s no way I should be letting her anywhere near my clients.”
“Let her go?” Marta grimaced. “Wow, she’d be furious. I can’t even imagine.”
“Did you not hear what I just said? She might be the one blackmailing me! And honestly, she’s not all that good at her job—a job that I am overpaying her to do.
I can’t have my employee compromising my reputation or putting my integrity into question.
She’s a friend, but, since we’re being candid, I’m only this close to her because of our daughters. ”
Marta nodded, wondering why she didn’t feel vindicated.
She’d wanted to hear Imogen admit it for so long, but this was not the friendship victory she’d imagined it would be.
“You have to do what’s right for your business.
But . . . do you really think she’s the one blackmailing you?
If I had to guess, I would have thought it was Bernie.
” A small part of Marta wondered if Imogen had made up the story to inject drama into their weekend; she loved being the centre of attention, after all.
“You think?” Imogen puffed out her cheeks and gazed at the lake. “I hate thinking like this about our friends. But about what you said earlier—why don’t you like Celeste?”
“No, I like her fine,” Marta lied. “We just don’t really gel. I think she doesn’t like me. I don’t have anything against her, but she’s always been more your friend than mine.”
Imogen narrowed her eyes at Marta. “So Bernie, eh? Hard to imagine her creeping around snapping pics at night, not in those heels she loves to wear . . .” Imogen looked momentarily uncomfortable as she toyed with an extension that was starting to look a little ratty.
“I don’t think I’d want to cross her. Did I ever tell you about the time she was over at my place and I found her going through my medicine cabinet?
She said she was looking for the Advil. Anyways, it was the look she gave me when I caught her.
She was totally composed, but her eyes went dark for a split second, like she would totally shiv me with a toothbrush or something.
” Imogen let out a strained laugh. “Why do you think it could be her? Did she say something?”
“No, no, not at all. I think it is majorly messed up that someone is doing this to you, but let’s leave it alone.
I bet it will stop. Can we please just have a good time this weekend?
I really need this. I feel like I’m losing my mind waiting for the police to find a lead.
” Imogen’s maybe-real-maybe-fake blackmail story had added an upsetting element to their getaway, one that Marta could do without.
“I’m looking forward to discussing the book, and I hope I’m not the only one who read it.
If I can do it with a missing husband, no one else has any excuse. ”
“Babe, of course I read it,” said Imogen.
Marta was pretty sure she was lying. “The other girls did too. We know this weekend is important to you. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for you since Derrick .
. . You’re holding up remarkably well, and I’m proud of you.
” Imogen reached over and trilled her fingers against Marta’s shoulder—a particular gesture of comfort they’d done to each other for almost as long as they’d been friends.
But Marta took no comfort from it now. She sighed and shook her head, increasingly convinced that coming to the lake had been a mistake. Despite the warm sun on her face, the little hairs on her arms stood on end.