Benny Abbott - Day Four
Benny Abbott
Day Four
It’s nearly noon when I exit my bedroom, though I’ve only managed a few hours of fitful sleep. In the living room, I head straight for the front windows.
“Still there,” Sarah says as I peek through the curtains.
The reporters have multiplied. There are now at least a dozen parked outside. We tried shooing them away this morning, but that only revved them up.
Sarah hands me a mug of coffee. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” I take a sip and press a palm to my forehead where a migraine is forming. “Any word?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you think the cameras are at Joy’s house too?”
“Mallory says no.”
At the mention of Mallory my muscles tense. “You talked to her?”
Sarah searches my face. “I’m sure there’s more to the story, Benny.”
I haven’t been able to get Keller out of my head since I left the station.
Is this out of context? I keep trying to remember it in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a suspect.
In a way that doesn’t make me feel guilty.
Does Joy love you back? As much as you love her?
I need Mallory to tell me everything she said.
“She’s at Joy’s?”
Sarah nods. “She doesn’t want to leave the house unattended.”
I plunk my mug on the side table, sloshing coffee over the rim.
“Benny,” she says, as I sift through the bowl beside the door.
I check the floor, comb the drawers in the console. “Did you take my keys?”
“At least shower first.”
“Did you take my keys?”
“Benny, you’re tired, and you’re upset, and those idiots outside are going to pounce. You’re not ready for this.”
“Where are they?” We stare at each other. “Know what, never mind.” I grab the dogs’ leads. They hear the clasps clink from the other room and bound toward me, the only welcome sight I’ve had all day.
“Benny, don’t—”
I shut the door behind me. It takes only a second for the reporters to start shouting.
“What do you have to say about Xander’s death?”
“Where is Joy, Benny?”
“Do you know what happened to Joy?”
I’m trying to push past them when one voice shouts above all the others: “Is it true you’re in love with her, Benny? Is it true you and Joy are in love?”
“Mind your own business,” I tell my slimy squirrel-feeding neighbor as he points his camera for the money shot.
Someone grabs my arm and I yank it away.
“It’s me.” My sister shoves my keys into my hand. “Go.”
I make a run for my car, the dogs bounding excitedly ahead.
They think this is a game and jump in happily through the driver’s side.
The cameramen tail me through the neighborhood, plowing forward when I speed, bearing down on me when I slow.
At Joy’s house, I slam on the brakes and scramble toward the gate, securing the latch the second the dogs and I are safely inside.
I’m halfway to the door when I spot Mallory and Carlotta at the side fence.
Mallory glares as I veer toward them. My anger is a living, throbbing thing, and I’m not sure how to handle it.
Mallory told so many lies. Kept so many secrets.
But the grossest reality of the day is that her brother is dead.
“I’m sorry about Xander,” I say, forcing myself to make eye contact.
Mallory scoffs. “Like hell you are.”
Carlotta tightens her robe, watching as if we’re performing a sketch for her sole benefit, so I search for something nice to say, something to make this less awkward. Instead, I come out with, “You’re being ridiculous. I was offering condolences.”
“Yeah. And you sounded super sincere.”
We’re like children at the playground. I have half a mind to go tell the teacher Mallory is being mean, but thankfully Carlotta steps in to save us from ourselves. “It’s so sad,” she says.
My wariness is mitigated by her soothing tone.
I’m an ass. Mallory’s brother is dead, and Joy is still missing, and everything is a complete disaster.
Did I drive through a swarm of reporters just to bicker with Mallory in front of a neighbor?
My shoulders drop. “Is there any more news about the accident? Have they said what caused it?”
I mean it as a peace offering, neutral territory, but when Mallory’s eyes flick back to Carlotta I realize my mistake.
“The police have questioned Emil, if that’s what you’re asking,” Carlotta says.
“I wasn’t insinuating…” I say quickly. Although maybe I was. Before sticking my foot in it again, I ask Mallory if we can talk inside.
She tells me she’ll be along in a minute.
I wait in the living room, watching them through the window until their conversation is over. When Mallory returns, it’s obvious she’s been crying. She crosses her arms and glowers at me from the doorway. “Well?”
“I’m sorry about Xander.”
She lets out a bitter laugh and leaves the room.
I find her in the kitchen, filling a mug with water.
“I am sorry,” I say. “For you.”
“Go on.” She sets the mug down with a slosh. “You didn’t brave the paps to tell me this. So go ahead and say it. Whatever you’re here to say.”
I stare her straight in the eye. “I know you were spying on Joy.”
She crosses her arms. “You have it all wrong.”
“I read the memoir, Mallory. It’s all there in black and white. You were spying on her. Reporting back to Xander like some fucking toady. Did you not once wonder why he asked you to do that?”
“He told me he was worried about her.”
“And that made it okay?”
Her palms shoot up. “I was afraid things had gotten out of hand.”
“Out of hand? Out of hand? Listen, I know you have a weird relationship with Xander. I get that he took care of you when you were a sick kid. I get that you’re loyal to him—”
“Did Quinn tell you that? What else did she say?”
Something has shifted. “What do you think she said?”
She shakes her head. “He was a good brother to me. I don’t care what Quinn thinks.”
“Oh, I’m sure he was a great brother.” My words drip with sarcasm. “But even with your blinders on, you must have known what he was doing to Joy.”
“I told you, I was afraid things had gotten out of hand.”
“But did you know?” When she looks away, I press harder. “Did you? Did Quinn?” I glance around, realizing belatedly that she might be here too.
“Quinn’s at work,” Mallory says, answering my unasked question.
At work. One day after learning her wife’s brother is dead.
I make a mental note to mull this over later.
“If you knew, then why would you help him? Why would you spy on us? Did you actually think I was some sort of threat? Because you heard the recording. I made a fool of myself. And then—” I feel sick mentioning it in light of what happened.
“What I said about Xander. Why would you give that to Keller?”
“What else was I supposed to do with it?”
“Maybe not give it to her?”
“They were asking a lot of questions. And anyway, why did you give her the memoir? It’s not like that makes me look good.” To her credit, she looks pretty miserable.
Still, I’m not letting her get off this easy. “I don’t understand why you hid the recording from me. You knew I was looking for it. Why didn’t you tell me you had it?”
“Maybe I’m not sure who I can trust right now, all right?”
We stand in suffocating silence. She reaches for her mug again. “If you didn’t do anything, you should have nothing to worry about.”
“Wow.” I press my fingers to my eyelids. I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t helping.
My pocket starts buzzing. I pull out my phone. Hold it up for Mallory to see.
“Answer it,” she says.
I put it on speaker. Keller’s voice comes through on a staticky connection. “I’m outside the gate. You want to let me in?”
“Right now?”
“No,” Keller says. “In an hour.”
Mallory gestures for me to go. The cameramen try to get in a few shots as Keller slides through the gate in a gray dress shirt and black pants, cross-body satchel hanging at her hip. Voices call out to us through the bougainvillea, but we ignore them.
Keller follows me inside and glances around. “House cleaned up well.”
She takes a chair in the living room and waits for us to join her on the opposite couch. The same seats we took when Joy and Xander first went missing four days ago.
“I’ll get right to it.” Keller removes her notepad from her satchel. “Preliminary autopsy came in.”
My heart judders. “Already?”
Mallory makes a strangled sound beside me.
“I’m sorry, this must be difficult. I’ll be as fast as I can.
” Keller fans herself, revealing a sweat patch beneath her arm.
Nothing about her actions screams fast as I can.
“According to initial reports”—she scans her notes—“it appears Xander’s death was caused by a traumatic closed head injury. Brain bleed.”
“So…” I say after a pause. “From the crash? He died in the crash?”
“Based on the angle and location of the injury, it’s unlikely.”
My vision clouds as I recall what I learned in the interview room. Found deep in the forest. Location not visible from the road. “And … there’s still no sign of Joy? Do we still not know if she was in the car with him?”
Mallory widens her eyes at me, and I realize I’ve unintentionally implicated my best friend.
If Joy was in the car, that leaves open the prospect that it was she who killed Xander.
The possibility has fleetingly crossed my mind, I will admit.
But there’s no way to know how many people were in the car to begin with.
And anyway, if she did kill Xander, it would obviously have been in self-defense.
In which case, she’d have come to me for help, wouldn’t she?
She’d have known I would help her fix it.
Likely, Keller knows this too.
“You mentioned fire extinguishers last time,” I continue, needing more but also needing to deflect. “Did the car catch on fire?”
“That’s one reason I’m here. You said Joy and Xander keep a fire extinguisher in the office downstairs. Do you want to show me where?”
I do not, in fact, want to show her where, but I do it anyway, Mallory trailing us down the stairs. When the three of us reach Joy’s office, I search for the canister where I last saw it, hanging in Joy’s swag closet beside a pyramid of TSMSYL hats and mugs. It’s not there.
Keller doesn’t seem surprised. “Is there another?”
I take her back upstairs to the kitchen pantry. The other canister is in its usual spot beside the charging hand vac. Untouched to the extent that it bears a slight film of dust.
“You still haven’t explained,” I say. “Was there or was there not a fire?”
“Large enough to ignite the entire forest in flames,” Keller says. Her expression is wooden. “Luckily, someone had the foresight to bring along a ten-pound extinguisher.”
“Someone … as in Xander?” It would make sense.
Like Emil said, it’s not improbable the MG was having issues.
Xander might’ve noticed the smoke, pulled over, put out the fire, and then …
I’m beginning to understand exactly how complicated this is.
Why was he driving through Angeles National Forest in the first place?
And why would he bring the office fire extinguisher with him?
And at what point then does the brain bleed come in?
This is worse than I thought. Keller is studying me.
Eventually, I manage, “What aren’t you telling us? ”
Keller doesn’t respond. The dogs are barking outside. I stand, needing something to do with my body, and cross over to the window. The coyote is back, sitting motionless on Carlotta’s side of the fence. Richie and Potsie pace in front of him, trying to tease him into playing.
“Regarding the money transfer…” The detective clears her throat.
Somehow I knew this was coming next.
“Money transfer?” Mallory asks. I never looped her in on this.
“A million dollars,” Keller says. “From the corporate account to Benny’s personal account.”
Mallory gasps.
“It was fraudulent activity,” I say quickly. “It didn’t go through.”
“According to bank records, you initiated the transfer at eight p.m.,” Keller continues, ignoring me. “Just after your little conversation with Joy. Was that to spite Xander? Because she wouldn’t leave him for you?”
“That’s not—” I open my mouth to argue it was the opposite—that Xander must have done it to spite me—but now that he’s dead I realize my theory no longer holds.
I realize, also, how bad this makes me look.
Keller has likely been playing dumb about these records all along.
Which means she knows I’ve been withholding the information I learned from my financial advisor.
Information that quite plainly incriminates me.
If I hadn’t fled the interview room she may have gotten around to this in private, but now she’s doing it in front of Mallory, and I can already see the next layer of distrust forming behind Mallory’s eyes. “I didn’t do it.”
“When Xander found out he would’ve been angry. Angry enough to pick a fight.” Keller leans forward. “And we already know, after what happened in Tucson, that you sometimes lose your temper.”
Something seizes in my chest. Mallory’s face goes as pale as her hair. This hasn’t come up on the podcast since she joined the team, but she clearly understands what Keller is insinuating.
“You went ahead and made a public statement when I advised you not to,” Keller says. “Was that so we would be distracted by a thousand different leads? Was that your plan?”
She’s clearly satisfied to have gotten me worked up again, and I struggle to keep my cool.
To prove I’m not the man she seems to think I am.
But when she asks why my fingerprints were found on Xander’s wheelbarrow I almost snap.
“I had to move it to get the plywood,” I say through my teeth.
“For the window. I just pulled it out and put it back in.”
“It’s true,” Mallory says, and for this I nearly forgive her every one of her transgressions on the spot. “Right before Potsie showed up at the gate.”
Keller has the gall to appear disappointed.
I can no longer bring myself to look at her. “Is that all?”
She says nothing for an uncomfortably long time. “You can stick around if you like. I have a few additional items to discuss with Mallory.”
Mallory is unreadable. I can’t tell if she wants me to stay or go, but I’m done. I don’t look back as I let myself out. The wind is hot, but I am ice cold, hands trembling so violently I can barely leash the dogs.
It takes hours for my pulse to slow down.