Chapter 11: Girl Inform Me

Huh? She…what?

My head fell to her chest again, exhausting every breath we shared, rising and falling at the softness of her breasts, the pink lace of her bra beneath my fingertips, and the flaccid gift of mine still lost inside of her. I couldn't move, she couldn't move, and we didn't seem to be in any hurry. The rain was slowing on our feet outside of the truck, beads of sweat tickling between us, and her breath exactly what I needed to hear, the break in the waves her words had just caused. The confession immediately boiled in my mind, but not because I couldn't believe it, or understand, merely because I had no reason to hide myself anymore now. Our pasts it seemed, had not been so far off the mark from equalizing as they appeared. When she was ready she would explain herself, and it would be my turn then, to explain to Roxanne Sunshine Hayden…who Morton Alexander Rainey is…was…used to be.

Before it's too late, Morty. She needs to know. She deserves the truth.

When I was finally able to move again I sat up slowly, buttoning my jeans back and handing her what remnants of clothing were thrown over the backseat of the truck. No words were coming; she wasn't looking at me anymore, only slid on her wet jeans and sat beside me, hands coiled at her knees. I could tell she was nervous and why wouldn't she be, I sure as hell was. She killed someone. Okay, easy enough I guess. So had I, right? A thousand chips of glass were sputtering in my mind, that word love, how after only a month I'd shared it with her, and now, to know that perhaps that love had spawned from a hidden trait, one that maybe I had known about all along. Can killers recognize other killers? Does that make sense…no. I don't love her because she's a murderer. With a short cough I noticed her turn towards me on the seat, her legs curled inward, and eyes lowered, here it comes, "I never told anyone that before."

"With good reason I assume."

"It's not something I selfishly pride myself in, if that's what you mean. But, I needed you to know."

"Why's that?" I questioned her harshly, not really planning too, but letting it slip that way. Her face too grew hardened with pain; as if she thought I would push her out of the car at any moment and drive off. Which I wouldn't, how could I? How could I punish her for a crime I'd been a veteran of?

"Mort I, well Newsome said –"

I cut her off quickly, "Let me guess. Newsome told you I was some psychopathic assassin, right?"

"Not like that, but –"

"But too close to that for comfort…"

"It was an odd warning that's all. I didn't believe him but, I just…I don't know." I hated seeing her like this, so lifeless, so confused with her own words. Roxanne was losing her confidence, that trait I'd fallen for, that careless, reckless luminary edge that had brought me back to life. It was shadowed now by memories, by details of her past that I wanted to know, I needed. "You wanted an avenue," I began as she brought her eyes up to finally focus on mine, "you needed a reason to disclose what you had done."

"Yes."

"Me too." Mid-nod she stopped, as if coming to terms inwardly on what skeletons I had, like she couldn't believe Dave had told her the truth. And then there was a smile, not a great one, nothing sparkling, just a dip at the corner of her mouth where once a frown had been. Enough to assure me she was relaxed, she was able to go on and explain herself now. "Roxanne I want you to tell me everything. Tell me who it was and why you did it, I just want to know you. Please." At that moment she stirred a bit, drew her body nearer to mine on the seat, and gently took my right hand into both of hers. I kept my eyes as low as hers were, fixed on the growing warmth of her fingers as they brushed across the back of my hand, then along the inside of my palm, "See these hands? These…are the softest hands that – have ever touched me." Her gentility was draining my senses slowly, I didn't know where she was headed with this, but I didn't care, I wanted to follow her there. "And these arms," She began, her delicate hands running the length of my bare arms, warming them inch by inch until she reached my shoulders, "These are the safest arms that I have ever been inside. Ever…" With a pause for thought between us, she soon continued, "Ethan never gave me that feeling."

"Ethan?"

"Yeah. Mort I know I should have told you before but--"

"It's fine." I said, rubbing her shaking knee as she smiled. "Tell me now."

"Ok…well Ethan was my fiancé. We met at NYU my junior year, he was a senior and we just; I don't know fell really hard, really fast. Lived together for almost three years before he finally proposed. I was so excited… But then another year passed, and he got busy, all the time. Flying in and out of New York…business he said. And I was dumb enough to believe him." She stopped to brush away a falling tear, and I felt my stomach churn at the memories being concocted in my own mind, bad things, terrible things, that motel, that night. "I didn't want to admit he was cheating on me you know, I didn't want to have to convince myself I'd failed, or screwed something up, that it was my fault."

"I know." God, do I.

"But then it was two weeks before the wedding, I'd done all the planning, had my dress. I was ready to be married, God I was so ready." Her hands were growing restless in mine, trembling even, so I held them closer. "He said he was going to California before the wedding, for some outsourcing meeting or something, I don't even remember."

"Do you really have to go this week? We have so much to do before the wedding…"

"I'll be back before you know it, just have to get business done babe, you understand."

"Yeah. I love you." A weak kiss on my forehead, and he turned away towards the door.

"Okay, I gotta go."

"Bye."

"I was at home that night, cooking dinner, working and stuff and I heard his phone ring in the bedroom. He had left it on accident, which was really stupid on his part, because even though I missed answering it in time…his 'business' hadleft a message."

"What did she say?"

Ethan it's Leslie, why aren't you picking up? Look if you're on your way to the motel it's booked; I found another place for us closer to Brooklyn. The little wifey won't ever find it, it's the Sunrise Motel on 82nd. Call me back when you get this baby…

"Shit."

"Yeah that's what I said. But then I realized how wise he had been in choosing to sleep with a girl who left me open directions to where she was waiting for him." She laughed at this point in her story, this detail that she still seemed to revel in, and I did too at the relation I had. "So I went to his nightstand and took out the gun I knew he kept there. He always said it was to protect me…and I guess he was right. I jumped in the car and took off, and everything just sort of blurred for a while, at least until I got there."

"And then what?"

"Well…Ethan hadn't gotten the message so I had the bitch all to myself. Managed to find out what room had been rented out by a Leslie, Crews nonetheless. She used his last name as her own, she took what I had wanted for so long and used it against me."

I found the room, knocked twice and finally got an answer. "Yes, can I help you?" She was dressed in this red lace, probably expecting my fiancé, hard and ready for her. Not exactly the most modest of women, which I applauded him on having found. "No, you can't help me. But…I hear you've been helping my fiancé out." Well, she tried to shut the door real fast, but wasn't quite as strong as me. So I pushed it back open, followed her inside, she tripped over the bed a few times, and yelled for me to get out.

"But you didn't."

"Of course not. I wasn't me in that moment, I was some other creature. I was a monster."

"Go away, I don't even know you! I don't know your fiancé, I swear!"

"Oh no? Then why are your slutty directions on his voicemail?" I threw the phone at her, emphasis I guess. I wanted her to know what was going to happen to her before I took the gun out. And I think she did. "I-I didn't mean to…I just…" And then I pressed the barrel of the gun to her jaw, I dug it into her skin, but didn't fire. I wasn't ready to kill her. There was one piece still missing. "Oh god, please Roxanne don't kill me!" She knew my name…

"Don't worry, you still have a while to plead your case. Get in my car!" I shoved her out of the door and into my car, not thinking twice about any surrounding rooms or people, I could hardly even make out what I was doing. It was bizarre.

"Weird feeling, that instinct to kill."

"It is, and it takes a lot to get to that point. But I was there."

"You and me both, Rox. Where did you take her?"

"Well I just started driving through the city, over the bridge, I just had to get away, get to a place I could do what needed to be done. But then he called her, and my plan changed."

"To what?"

"Tell him to meet you at the docks." I whispered it to her as she informed him, and of course he struggled to understand the point, but eventually consented. I had scared this girl so much she could hardly even look at me, I had this power I'd never felt before, the ability to shape everything the way I wanted it. And so the driving continued, everything was quiet except for the occasional clicking of the gun beneath my grip at the wheel, and the radio. The whole scene had played like twenty times in my head before we made it to the docks. And then I saw him. Leslie jumped out before I could stop her, and ran to him. The way I wanted it. "Ethan! Oh god, Roxanne she found me! She's got a gun!"

I walked down to where they were, slowly, plotting out the fine details with a smile on my face, or so I think. Ethan started yelling all sorts of things…saying I wasn't a real woman, that I couldn't satisfy him the way Leslie could, that I could never be a good wife, a good mother like my sister. He'd hit the spot.

"I don't love you anymore Roxanne, can't you see that? Leslie is the woman I love…we're over!"

"Yes…yes Ethan you're right."

"And I shot him. Once in the arm, and the second bullet to his heart. It all happened so fast I…I just couldn't think…" I brushed back the hair from her eyes as she tried to breathe past the admission, her eyes weren't green at all, they were dark, almost black in the fading light. "I wanted to keep shooting, just…fire at him until there was nothing left."

"What about the girl?"

"One bullet." There was a tingle in her palm as I held her, as if a gun were still placed in her grasp. "Her head. I shot her in the head."

"And…the bodies?" I questioned her with caution, holding back in spades as she thought about it, let her mind wander over everything she'd spilt thus far. Her face was contorted, mingling with a dangerous tone, fear even. "The Hudson River," she whispered to me, "talk about poetic, huh?"

"And no one ever knew?"

"No one ever cared. Ethan had apparently made business deals with the wrong people anyway, people who would have gladly killed him for me. All I had to do was play the part of the distraught fiancé for a few months, play dumb. It went smoothly, the way it almost never happens in the movies, I got away with it. Mort I know it sounds crazy, and it probably makes me crazy, but I just…I had to do it. I don't know why, but something in me came out that night and I had to kill them. I don't want you to think that I would ever—"

"I don't." Cutting her short I pulled her legs onto my lap and held my arms at her waist. "I don't think that. He deserved what was coming to him in my opinion, I've seen it myself. I don't want you to think that I'm some insane serial killer, but I promise not to lie to you anymore, because it's just going to fuck things up if I do. I need you to know that whatever they tell you about me Roxanne, it's not half as true as it sounds. You have to believe me."

I believed every word he'd ever spoken to me, and now he was understanding of my own mistakes, I owed him my word, I owed him everything in me and more. His eyes were sunken to a shallow pain I recognized in myself, and I cupped his face gently and pulling his lips to mine. I needed to taste him and know he was still real, that none of this had been in my head. I kissed him hard but quick, letting my hands get lost in his hair, "I only believe you."

The tension in his eyes was broken by that, and he began swiftly, with a pace he had studied in his mind before, I could sense this. As if planned to admit his actions to someone for years now, practiced the phrases, the tone, everything. He had waited far too long to explain himself like I had.

"I didn't just kill senselessly. I had every reason the same as you." Shyly, almost as if we had just met, like that first night in his house, he took my hand in his and looked at me deeply. "But I'm not me. Not really me anyway, I haven't been for…twelve years at least. I…I've just been locked in this other person's mind, trying to find a way back to myself." I didn't understand fully, but nodded and squeezed his hand to assure him I wasn't scared. "I'm not this guy they make me out to be, he's just the surface. The real me Roxanne…it's in here." Slowly he lifted my hand to rest over his heart, not smiling, just watching me steadily, and trying to make me see. "And I thought it was dead, but…you brought it all back."

"Me?" Holding back the tears I listened to him, the confession he was making carefully. "You, everything you do. You're bringing him back."

"Who?" I asked with his pause for breath, for dramatic effect, for something inside of him.

"Benjamin Miller."

"I-I don't understand…"

"I'll tell you everything if you want to know, explain it from the beginning. I guess, I hope…you won't turn against me and freak out. It' not exactly your run of the mill bedtime story, if you catch my drift?" I laughed without thinking about it, just did, and it made him smile. "You know those papers you found in the attic yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Well that name…Benjamin Miller…he's not my cousin. I lied, I…I didn't want you to know about this stuff, or I thought I didn't. It's just way too dangerous if you get involved." He was stumbling with words again, and I still couldn't discern any of it, I only hoped his point was coming. "I am Ben Miller, Roxanne. I was anyway…"

As his head hung low I wondered on the statement, "You, but your name is Mort Rainey. How can you be…"

"Confusing huh?"

"Very."

"Well to make a long story short, I was born Benjamin James Miller, in Chicago. A bouncing baby boy, November 18th, 1972." I smiled at the thought of him in such a way, little Mort…err well Ben? Little Ben…oh my god, this is incredible. The information went on wildly, all the facts between that and college spewing from his lips romantically, "It's all who I was. Until…well, until I was twenty three. I wasn't always a mystery writer, ya know?"

"You weren't?"

"No…I used to write historical works, all kinds of non-fiction. Mostly, murder scandals in history and things like it. I published my first book when I was twenty, was writing for this small press house out of Chicago while I was in school. And in the summer of 96' my publisher came to me, wanted to know what I was working on, I told her I had a few ideas for books but nothing definite. And I really didn't, until…"

"Until what?"

"Till I met…Harvey. Harvey Klein." The way he spoke the man's name, this raw glint of haste in his eyes, it unnerved me, and I felt my legs shake slightly. But Mort stroked them warmly and drew me in further beneath his arms. "You cold?"

"It's that name, the way you say it…makes the hair on my legs stand up."

"I know what you mean, and there's a reason for it. See, I met him in my apartment building in the city, he was this crazy old man, didn't like anybody, especially me. But this one night I was at home, studying or whatever, and I just kept hearing this loud banging next door in his place, a pounding, but not on a door or the floor, it sounded like a person."

"God damn…argh! Fucking piece of –"

I just sat there on my couch, listening to it…. "What the fuck is that crazy bastard doing?"

"I mean I thought I was going nuts, I prayed I was but I knew I wasn't." As Mort went on, I felt every bone in my body jump up and down at his emphasis. "So I did some spying, tried to figure out what was going on, and when I made it out to the doorway of his apartment I saw it…this…huge bag, just sitting there."

"Oh god…don't tell me. Was there a body in it?"

"Well, I never got to find out. The old man came outside and dragged the bag away right in front of me, like nothing had ever happened. He yelled at me in German or something, God knows. I was gonna call the cops but never did, I was too fascinated with it to let the cops have the story."

"What do you mean?"

"I wrote about it. Gave the idea to my publisher a week later, and wrote my very first murder mystery."

"Isn't that kind of like…plagiarism in a way?"

"It's kind of like playing with fire, yeah. It didn't last long though, as soon as Harvey caught up with the book's publication he tried to have me put in jail, sued me, took me for all I was worth at that point. He swore he was going to kill me, he even tried to put out a price on my head, some mob bullshit, but I took it pretty seriously. Ending up having my apartment broken into, Amy was stalked for a while when we first started dating, all kinds of scary shit. So I decided to drop from my publisher, quit school, and then me and Amy moved to New York. Tried to start over, tried to hide out just to stay alive. And that's when Benjamin Miller disappeared…I left him in Chicago, I was too afraid to be him anymore."

"And you became Mort Rainey?"

"I did. Managed to find a publisher in Manhattan, signed on as their official mystery writer, and gave them my new name. Started off fresh, me and Amy got married that same year, bought the cabin up here, a house in Riverdale a few years later, and Ben Miller was just gone, I didn't even know who he was anymore. He was somewhere in Chicago, that kid."

"What about Harvey Klein…did you ever see him again?"

"Not once, I guess he just couldn't trace me. And life was good here, you know, or at least I convinced myself it was. I told myself it was everything I ever wanted, the million dollar house in the suburbs, the job in New York, freedom, a wife, a family maybe. But it wasn't the life or the family I had dreamed of, it was this whole other arena I had created for myself, for the new me."

"And you didn't like it?"

"God no, after a while I started to hate it. I would shut myself up alone for days on end, just writing, trying to ignore it all, trying to get back to that safe place, the real me I lost. Over the years me and Amy drifted apart, I told you we had miscarried, she starting seeing another guy that last year…"

"How are we feeling about ole' Ted these days?"

"I don't know, I love him I guess."

"Oh…that's good."

"I didn't go with other men, you know. I always wanted to tell you that, I didn't go with other men. Only Ted, and only the last few months after you and I were already over…"

"Well if we over…while we were still together, you might have mentioned it, because it was news to me!"

"That's because you weren't there anymore, you were gone all the time!"

"It all just hit me really fast. 'This isn't what I want, this isn't who I am…this is somebody else.' I knew I had to do something about it, I had to wipe off this Mort Rainey life, so I started getting lost in my head I guess, coming up with ideas and schemes, things I could never really understand but they just all melded together up there."

"In your head?"

"Even when you were with me, you were gone, up in your head. I don't think that I…looked in your eyes, and actually saw you looking back at me for, I mean really with me…for the last two years."

"Yeah. It had become this whole other world, another being entirely. And even though it belonged to Mort Rainey, Ben Miller, I was pushing my way back through it. And I did, at a cost. Somehow I had created this guy in my mind, John Shooter, some random Mississippi farmer, a real nut. I guess I figured if I could create someone else to do away with Mort Rainey that I wouldn't have to worry about the consequences; that I would get off free with whatever damage was done."

I was beginning to worry now, I had a feeling the bad part of his story was coming, the part that would prove to be troublesome with the surrounding detectives, all of the people interested in murder nearby. It was coming… "Mort…? Who did you kill?" He just looked at me, those primal eyes of his, the attic eyes, the ones I loved about him were staring through me. It was Mort Rainey I was seeing, and I understood now. Mort Rainey was animalistic, unafraid to kill, unafraid to live on the edge. But Benjamin Miller was the man who had helped fix up my house, the man who made peanut butter sandwiches and gone out on boat rides, the man who had asked me to stay with him, who said that he would take care of me. That was Ben, and Ben I realized, was the man I was falling in love with. The very thought of which scared me more than anything else about the conversation at hand.

"I need you to understand Rox, that I didn't kill them. It's as you said, Mort. Mort Rainey killed Amy Rainey. Mort Rainey killed Ted Milner…and Ken Karsh and Tom Greenleaf, all of the names they will try to throw at you. No matter what they say it wasn't me, it was him. Do you hear me? I would never hurt anyone," I watched him deeply, a tear struggling at the corner of my eye as he moved his thumb to brush it away, "I would never hurt you, I promise."

"I know that…I just…you're still Mort Rainey. You are Mort, and that bad side might….I don't know, come back or something…"

"It won't, it can't."

"How do you know?"

"Because you sent it away. I don't know how, or why but…you brought the real me back from the dead. My name might still be Mort Rainey, but he's not in there anymore, at least not the bad part of him. It's all gone, all those sick thoughts, and plans. It's…it's just me, Rox." I didn't know what to say to him, part of me wanted to hug him, kiss him, make love to him all over again. He sat looking at me, and I smiled to reassure him of my affection, stroked his cheeks slightly and tried to look deep within his eyes. I didn't see anything but what I already knew, I knew Mort Rainey, but I knew the Benjamin side to Mort, and somehow the rest had all gone away, everything I luckily missed. "I've never told anyone, any of this before. Amy knew, but she's gone. I would have explained it earlier I guess, I was just too worried you would…I don't know, judge."

"I don't care who you are. I don't care if you're Mort, or Ben, or Michael Jackson." We broke eyes to laugh together, "Okay, well I might care if you were him, but it doesn't matter to me because I know who you are. You're the guy who rescued me from the rain…and from drowning…and you're the guy who painted my house, picked out a crayon color for my eyes, and cooked the best spaghetti I've ever tasted." He kept chuckling through tight breaths as I went on, caressing my legs, kissing the palms of my hands, making every bit of me melt, making me forget what had been exchanged in the backseat of that Jeep. "I never thought that I had anything left to give anyone, I didn't. I came up here to find myself again, to get away from the city that broke me all those years ago. But instead I found you. Whoever you are. In finding you, I realized who Roxanne Hayden really was. And if I truly helped you find yourself the way you say I did, then promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me you won't leave this time. Let Ben stick around a while…for me." I dare say he agreed to the terms, as his arms swooped in around me, and his lips kissed every dangerous spot on my neck and shoulders. However it had happened, however the fates had warped themselves into our favor, we had been given the opportunity to understand each other better than we ever thought possible. And with that being said, and the topic of murder still on my brain as he held me, I began to wonder about Lucas again. Mort hadn't admitted to killing him, and I didn't think he was capable of it now, with that bad side gone, but someone had. There was an answer to the question of Lucas' fate someplace nearby, and it would be Mort who was threatened first, if he hadn't already been. Maybe, I thought, as his breath warmed the cool spot behind my ear, maybe there's a third piece to the puzzle. Maybe we missed something…