CHAPTER EIGHT – "The List"
I had put off telling Ben about our getting married until I couldn't wait any longer. Now it was the day before we were to take off for Vegas, and I HAD to tell him today! I hoped he would be happy for me, and that taking time off wouldn't be a big deal, but I also knew I should have said something earlier. It's just that I had a strange feeling that Ben wouldn't be happy, I didn't know why, but I also knew I didn't want to work with him all week when he was mad at me, so--here I was waiting for him, and time was going slowly.
I had gotten to work early this morning to try to catch him, knowing his schedule had him in court most of the day, and I simply had to talk to him about my leave of absence as soon as possible! He put me off until the afternoon, which now had become 5 o'clock p.m.
I dialed Mick up on my cell and got his voicemail: "Hi, honey—I'm stuck here waiting for Ben to get back from court. I can't just up and leave tomorrow without even telling him why I'm gone—I'll be home as soon as possible. I love you!"
At 5:40, Ben finally came back, looking worn out and distracted.
"Oh, Beth! I'm so sorry I kept you waiting—it was a long day in court, and I—just got late here—what did you need to speak to me about? Come on into my office—have a seat. Pardon me, I'll be right back."
He rushed off to the men's room and I sat in his office looking around. No pictures of family, no pictures of a girlfriend, and that seemed somehow sad to me! He was a successful, good-looking guy! I guessed he must work so much that he had no time for a real life!
I looked over his desktop—it was covered with the files he was currently working, and I spotted a newspaper clipping in one of the empty spots between the stacks of files. I pulled it toward me and saw that it was an article on how Jacob had been rescued from the kidnapper, and at the top of the article was a nice, color picture of me and Ben. I heard his footsteps coming toward the office and placed the clipping back in its little spot.
He came rushing back in, took off his suit coat and threw it over the back of his large, comfy-looking executive chair. He sat on the other side of his desk in that enormous thing and suddenly made me feel like a dwarf about to ask the giant for a favor. Maybe I should have brought some other Lilliputians with me to tie him up, just in case his mood was bad! He was looking at me with an unreadable facial expression that I hoped wasn't anger at keeping him here later than he would have stayed without me demanding his time at the end of a busy day.
"What was it you wanted to talk about, Beth? Everything going okay?" He leaned back in his chair and looked like he was trying to relax, but the effort wasn't working.
I cleared my throat. I felt like a school kid in the principal's office, for some reason! "Ben—I need to take some time off, that's all. Everything is great! But something has come up very suddenly, and I need two weeks off starting tomorrow."
His face didn't move for several seconds as he processed this information. I didn't know him well enough to read him, I realized. Then he leaned over onto his desk, folding his hands. The way he looked at me made my stomach clutch.
"Might I ask what is so urgent that you need a long vacation at a moment's notice?"
I returned his penetrating gaze and saw that his face was a kind of mixture of irritation and curiosity. Maybe I could read him after all! "Well, actually, I'm, um, getting married." I found myself fiddling with my ring.
Well, that statement just laid there between us like a loaded gun. Ben looked as though someone had died. I felt a little nauseous, all of a sudden. Very strange.
"Married? You're getting married? How long have you known you were getting married?"
"Not very long, Ben. I'm sorry for the short notice. I hope it won't be a problem." I felt my afternoon bag of chips and the soda I drank with it starting to rise into my throat. I swallowed several times. Wow, I sure didn't think I'd be this nervous!
"Well, Beth, it IS a problem. Two weeks is a long time, and you want to just take off tomorrow? Is there a need to be in such a hurry that you can't even give me a week's notice?" He looked at me as if asking if I was insane. I resented that look.
"Yes, Ben. Like I said, we kind of decided to do this without a lot of planning."
"You want to leave tomorrow to get married? Must be going to Vegas? What's going on? Are you—no, never mind. It's none of my business, and it's illegal for me to ask you anyway."
"Oh, you were wondering if I'm pregnant?" I tried to act nonchalant, even though discussing my reproductive system with my boss was uncomfortable, to say the least. "Well, I don't think so—"
"Okay! That's very helpful! I hope you find out before the baby is born!" He was kind of fuming, and I was feeling both angry and sick. "Beth—I didn't even know you were seeing anyone—might I ask you, this? Who is the lucky man?"
He said that kind of snidely, I thought, like I was a stupid kid who got knocked up and now had to quick go marry the guy who did it to me. I didn't want him thinking that! I tried to read his face and decided again that no, I really could not read his face! I tried not to hedge on the question, because I knew he and Mick weren't exactly on the best of terms.
"Beth?"
"Oh, ah—Ben--it's Mick—I'm, ah, I'm marrying Mick. He's asked me to marry him, you see, and we're flying to Las Vegas tomorrow, and then he's taking me on a surprise honeymoon."
There. I saw him react physically to this statement, jerking slightly in his big important chair, and I really was feeling like I might throw up on his desk. I kept swallowing and asked him for some water. He leaned behind him and took a cold bottle out of his mini-fridge and set it down in front of me. I swigged it down like a thirsty sailor who had just found a barrel of rum.
"I don't like this, Beth. I've got to tell you, I don't like this at all."
I swallowed a huge gulp and said, "Excuse me Ben? What's the problem? I have too much work to do for you and I can't take off some time to get married?"
"No—I'll be able to have other staff fill in for you—the problem is that you're marrying Mick St. John. I have a big problem with that."
I was stunned. I sat there with my half bottle of water and my mouth hanging open. Then I got mad. "You don't even know Mick—how can you say such a thing? Especially after he helped you solve the case of little Jacob missing! And he also solved your Tierney Taylor case! If Mick hadn't told you she was bludgeoned with that anchor, you might have assumed she just dove off of the ship and killed herself! Thanks to Mick, we all know what really happened, and you collared another killer! Come on, Ben! You can't be serious! You know Mick is a great guy!"
"I am serious, Beth. I have to object very strongly to this plan of yours. I'd go as far as saying. . ." he hesitated for a second, then said "I want to warn you not to do this. Beth, please don't marry Mick St. John."
He didn't have to tell me how serious he was—that part I could read on his face! He actually looked worried and maybe a little sick himself! Maybe this was a flu bug! Great—all I needed was a hostile boss and the flu to get my marriage off on the right foot! I sat there in my little chair, stunned and ill. The giant looked very grumpy.
"I don't get this at all, Ben." Pause. "Excuse me—I have to use the bathroom." I got up and ran, opening the door to the men's room, since it was closer than the ladies' room, and got there just in time to vomit into a urinal. I flushed it three times, hoping the nasty thing would go down, and most of it did. I pulled a paper cup out of the dispenser and rinsed my mouth out several times, gargling and spitting until I got the bad taste out of my mouth. Just then, the door opened and Ben came barging in on me in my state of distress. Great.
"Beth? Are you all right?"
"I think so—I must have a stomach virus or something. I'm also pretty upset about what you just said."
"Well I would hope so! I'm not stupid, and I do have reasons for warning you about Mick. I wouldn't just say something like that if I didn't feel it was necessary."
I wiped my mouth on a paper towel and looked up at him. He towered over me, and I wished I hadn't picked today to wear flats. Anyway, the Lilliputian said to the Giant,
"Well, if that's so, I guess you had better tell me exactly what you mean! Mick St. John is absolutely the nicest man I have EVER known, and I have known a LOT of men in my time, and I have known Mick for longer than I have known ANY of the other men in my life, and I will not stand here and let you speak of my future husband that way without being very, very angry with you!"
I wondered in retrospect if I had said that right, or had I just made myself sound like a slut? I didn't mean KNOW the men in the Biblical sense, or not all of them—Uh-oh! Here it came again!
This time I got to a stall so I had the advantage of throwing up into an actual toilet, which worked much better than heaving into a men's urinal! I wretched and gagged and flushed. I walked out, red-faced from the hurling as well as the embarrassment! Once again I went through my rinse and gargle routine, this time in front of Ben. I was hoping this would at least get me some sympathy from him!
When I was done, I faced him, eyes flashing. "Tell me what you think is wrong with the man I love!"
"Beth—do you want to sit down? You look a little pale! Maybe we should go back into my office?"
"NO! I want to hear what you have against Mick right now!" I threw the paper towel I had been holding so hard into the waste bin that it almost jumped out again. Ben at least had the decency to look upset.
He sighed, then said, "Fine! I'm not supposed to say anything about this to anyone, but I guess I'm going to have to—I have a list—the list has a lot of names on it. Mick St. John is one of the names on the list."
"And what IS this list that's so important? And WHY is Mick's name on it?"
"I don't know yet. The list came from an anonymous tipster who said it was for MY eyes only, so do not breathe a word of this to anyone. I'm only telling you because I think your marrying this guy would qualify as a need-to-know basis for my spilling the secret."
"Oh! Well! Now I know I should definitely not marry Mick! He is on a 'list' donated by someone who won't tell you his name, and on that basis you have concluded that Mick is no good! I'm so glad to know our ADA is not influenced by meaningless 'anonymous tips!'"
He looked down at his shoes, size 18 at least, and I was sincerely hoping he was feeling some shame.
"Look, Beth, I don't know yet what the list means, but I think it's important. There are some prominent people on that list! I think they might be up to something that isn't on the up and up!"
"Prominent people and Mick on this list? Well! That's just SO incriminating!" I was feeling sick again, and didn't know if it was my stomach or my heart. What was this about anyway?
"Okay, I'm just going to give it all to you straight, Beth. I also have a file on Mick St. John." I glared at him and lowered my eyebrows.
"Why would you keep a file on Mick?"
"Why? Because I got some photos in the mail that are very disturbing. They show Mick being hit by a car going at high speed, and he goes up on the hood of the car, falls off onto the pavement, where he lies until YOU come over to him and help him up! Any ordinary person would have been killed by a car racing at that velocity, throwing them up in the air, then crashing to the pavement! And YOU were there! YOU must know something about this, and you aren't telling me what Mick's secret is, are you, Beth? I'm your boss, and I hoped I could be a friend. I'm trustworthy. Can't you tell me?"
His eyes were boring into me. "Where did you say you got these alleged pictures?" I asked, knowing exactly who had sent them—that paparazzi photographer Dean Foster.
"They were sent to me anonymously."
"Again, I must congratulate you, ADA Talbot, for not taking false evidence seriously! Do you KNOW what people can do with 'PhotoShopping' these days? They can make any picture look like a car wreck! Honestly! I'm very disappointed in you!" I tried to say that last bit scathingly, but it kind of just croaked out. I was beginning to feel dizzy.
"I know—it does sound crazy, Beth, but for some reason, I think the list and the photos are legitimate. I just haven't had time to track down who sent them and why."
"And on the basis of an anonymous person of dubious character, I am supposed to not love Mick and not marry him? Are you out of your mind?"
Ben looked at me with a mixture of concern, irritation and desperation. Okay, I was starting to be able to read him now, and I didn't like what his face was saying.
"Ben?"
"What, Beth?"
"I need help, I'm going to be sick again." I sort of fell toward him, and he caught me under the arms. He helped me walk to the first stall, where I sank down onto the floor, grasping the toilet as I slid down, and then I threw up one more time, hugging the seat like an old friend. I felt Ben standing over me, and as I began to vomit; I felt his hands on my neck as he caught hold of my hair and held it back for me, saving it from falling into the water in the john.
I was dry-heaving now, feeling horrible, feeling very angry at Ben, feeling upset that this was happening now, the day before I was to take off for Las Vegas to get married, and yet I was thanking this hulking jerk for helping me. Well, maybe he wasn't such a jerk—I couldn't blame him for being suspicious.
"When did that list get sent to you?" I asked from inside the toilet bowl.
"The day Emma Monaghan was arrested and later disappeared from our custody in transport to the jail.
Alarms went off in my head. Emma had been executed that night, so who might have sent that list?
I spit into the water and tried to reach the handle for a flush, but couldn't quite manage that. Ben reached over for me, still holding my hair, and flushed for me. He was behind me, kind of straddling me, and, as embarrassed as I was, I was terribly grateful to him for being so kind. Still clutching the bowl, I asked him, "Was Emma's name on the list?" I spit once again. I hated throwing up!
He hesitated only a moment. "It was on the list, and it had a line through it, as did Jackson's name. I don't know if you know this, but Jackson disappeared that same night. We can't track him down."
I shivered. Both of them dead, both crossed off that list! I felt so ill that I laid my head down on the toilet seat, a thing I would never actually do in my real life, but this was all very surreal, with Ben holding my hair and me hearing about this death list with Mick's name on it!
"Can you tell me the name of one of the prominent people on the list? Besides Emma and Jackson, that is?"
"Okay, just remember that this is STRICTLY confidential!"
"I will, I mumbled miserably."
"Josef Kostan was on the list as well. A great benefactor to Hearst College, and his name is there too, but it's not crossed off."
Okay, that was good. Josef wasn't dead and wasn't crossed off.
"Is Mick crossed off?" I asked in a very weak voice. I had to know if this crossing off of names meant they were already dead or if it meant they were marked for a hit.
"Is Mick crossed off of what!?" an angry voice asked from behind Ben. Oh, great! It was Mick, here to see me on the floor of the men's toilet with my head in the bowl! How attractive this must be, to find your soon-to-be bride in this position! I died a few small deaths.
"Oh, Mick," Ben said flatly. "Beth is pretty sick. I've been trying to keep her from drowning."
"I can see that! I'd like to know just what is going on here! What is this about me being crossed off of something?"
I felt Ben let go of my hair and stand up. He must have turned to face Mick. "You are on a list of names I received. I just told Beth not to marry you because you are on this mysterious list that was delivered to me the day Emma Monaghan disappeared, and I can't have my best employee going off and marrying you without knowing what this is all about. Believe it or not, I care about Beth. I wish you did. I don't know what trouble you're in, but I know it's trouble—I have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, and I'm telling you--I can't give her the time off to go get married to some thug on a hit list while Elvis sings 'Love Me Tender'!"
"I don't appreciate that at all, Ben!" Mick said in a very low, threatening voice.
I thought I heard a low growl come from his throat, and suddenly all I could see were images of Mick going vamp and tearing Ben's throat out! Then what would we do? Call the cleaner and go off to Vegas the day after he killed my boss?
I barely even felt myself lose consciousness and fall onto the bathroom tile, but I know my head must have hit pretty hard, because when I woke up, I was in a hospital with a very bad headache, a very large ice pack strapped to my temple, and two very large, bad-looking men in my room with me.
As I tried to focus, I was reassured that they were both alive, anyway, the un-jolly giant and the vampire who wanted to eat him for breakfast. I closed my eyes, hoping I'd faint again.