Paying The Piper - 19. Chapter 19

Cale and Elizabeth didn’t speak to each other at all the following day. Cale suspected Elizabeth wanted to explain what had happened. He simply wasn’t interested in hearing it. She took the hint and left him alone. He stayed in his office all morning, catching up on the daily grind. The work gave new meaning to tedious. More than once, he had considered hiring Jim rather than maintain everything himself. But today he relished the mindless tasks. He signed. He initialed. He tried not to think about Drew.

Right before lunch, the phone rang. At first, Cale couldn’t place the voice.

"McCoy?"

Cale responded cautiously, "Yes?"

"This is Braden White."

"This…is unusual."

Braden gave a rough laugh. "Yeah, I guess it is. Busy?"

Cale ran his tongue over his teeth. He already sensed trouble. "No."

"I’m calling about Elizabeth."

Cale felt his heart sink. "Yes?"

"Listen…I think it was just…a temporary insanity thing. That’s why I’m calling." Cale’s trepidation increased. Braden sighed and continued. "It was her."

Cale waited for more. When Braden didn’t elaborate, he asked, "I beg your pardon?"

A burst of static exploded in Cale’s ear. Braden answered, "Your wife killed Cynthia Mullen."

A week ago, Cale would have laughed. Now, he felt himself go cold. "I don’t believe you," he said, stalling.

There was more static and Cale heard Braden curse. "You still there, McCoy?" he asked.

Cale nodded, then berated himself. He was letting White get to him. "Yes," he answered.

There was a long silence. The static waxed and waned. Cale waited. Eventually, Braden spoke. "I understand her. Her jealousy." The hair on the back of Cale’s neck stood on end. "I’ll keep it quiet. For a price."

Cale’s hand clenched the receiver. He didn’t respond.

"I’m not asking for much," Braden continued. "Just enough to get me back on my feet."

Anger flooded Cale. "How much?"

"Fifty thousand. Pocket change for you."

Cale closed his eyes. His head began to throb. "I’ll think about it," he said. Without waiting for a reply, he hung up.

In a trance, he crossed his office to the built-in bar against the far wall. With steady hands, he poured himself a drink and finished it where he stood. When he was done, he placed the glass carefully on the bar and reached for his cell phone.

**********

"Okay," Rob said, "Elizabeth told me she was being blackmailed. She showed me the pictures that bitch had of us."

Quent watched him carefully. "So you’ve known for some time that Elizabeth was paying Marci."

"Yes," Rob answered sullenly. "I told her to stop. That she should just let that impotent asshole she’s married to know what’s going on."

Drew caught his breath at the callous words. His temper began to boil. A glance at Quent showed he hadn’t cared for Rob’s description of Cale either.

"But she wouldn’t," Quent filled in, "because she liked the money too much."

Rob flashed him a dirty look. "Because she didn’t want to dishonor her family by divorcing him."

Quent snorted. "Oh, please." When Rob looked ready to argue, Quent held up his finger. "Don’t."

Drew walked to the coffee pot and nonchalantly poured himself a steaming cup. Rob eyed it pleadingly. Drew didn’t offer him any. "Do you know why she was talking to Elizabeth at The Tin Man?"

Rob nodded. "Yeah. That bitch Patterson suddenly started asking for more. Nearly double. No explanation. Just wanted more. Elizabeth was pissed!"

Quent signaled Drew to bring him a cup of coffee. Drew ignored him and went back to standing behind Rob. "Was she going to do it?" he asked as he sipped from his mug.

Rob had the audacity to look proud. "Nope. Said she was going to stand up to her."

Quent frowned. "Did she?"

Rob hesitated. "Yes," he said slowly.

"You have no idea whether she did or not, do you?"

Rob chewed on his thumb nail. "Does it really matter anymore?"

**********

After informing Rob not to bother coming back to work – ever – Quent released him. He and Drew sat in his office, each mulling over what they had just learned.

According to Rob, Elizabeth had no intention of ending their affair. She had said as much last night. Instead, she had insisted they continue to see each other, only more discreetly. It was this demand that had sparked the argument. As it turned out, Rob was tired of sneaking around. He had told her so. According to his account, Elizabeth began ranting about family and honor and had eventually, when he refused to back down from his position, attacked him. He had merely defended himself. To Quent, it sounded plausible. Patented Elizabeth Modus Operandi.

The way Quent figured, Elizabeth had panicked at being pressured to give up her marriage, something even a two-year-old could have intuited she had no intention of doing. Why his wayward deputy couldn’t grasp that fact was beyond him. Clearly, Rob could give the Birch boy a run for his money in the stupidity department.

Things were getting more twisted by the minute. He needed to sort his thoughts.

"Marcus," he snapped. "Get out. Go pout somewhere else. I have work to do."

Drew didn’t move. "Why did Cale think we were together last night?" he asked off-handedly.

"Because we were."

"But not like that." He turned to look at Quent. "You did nothing to disabuse him of the notion either, you bastard. Why?"

Quent tilted his chair back and looked down his nose at Marcus. "I had bigger problems on my hands than his petty jealousy."

Drew looked surprised. "Jealousy?"

Quent groaned. "Surely you sense this is a mutual attraction."

Drew faltered. "But – he’s married. I mean, has he ever…?"

Quent thought about not answering – keeping Cale’s confidences. For some reason, the devil on his shoulder won. "He never has. But he’s always felt the pull."

Drew’s mouth dropped open in shock. Then his eyes narrowed. "And just how the hell do you know that?"

"Do you ever think before you speak, Marcus? How do you think I know? I’ve been close to Cale since he was a boy. He’s been my friend all his adult life. I know."

Drew was enraged. "And you just let him…trap himself in that farce of a marriage. What kind of friend are you?" he yelled.

Quent stood abruptly and his chair flew out behind him. "Get out!" he hissed.

Drew stood as well. "Struck a sore point, there, Quent? What’s wrong? Were you under McCoy senior’s finger just like everyone else in this town?"

With a howl of rage, Quent launched himself at Drew. The two grappled for several seconds before Drew freed a hand and punched Quent hard in the stomach. As Quent went down, he kicked Drew’s feet out from under him. Drew landed in an undignified heap on the floor next to Quent.

Several minutes passed. Neither of them spoke. When his breathing calmed, Drew opened his eyes. Quent was lying on his side, hugging his midsection. Drew rolled onto his back and threw a hand over his face.

"Sorry," he breathed. "That was uncalled for."

Quent pulled himself into a sitting position. "It’s true," he said. "I failed him completely. I wasn’t…I didn’t." He sighed and coughed weakly. "Fuck. I need a drink."

Drew pulled himself upright as well. "It’s not all your fault."

"Shut up, Marcus."

The door to the office opened. Both men swiveled their head toward the sound. Quent groaned and closed his eyes. Drew’s face broke into a smile. The newcomer, Cale, just shook his head.

"When you two are done wrestling, we need to talk."