I said, «He also admitted he was having Maria pick up the threatening postcards each day before I could see them.» «Ah,» Steve said. «Makes sense.»
«Does it?» I grinned twistedly. «I thought for sure you were going to suggest that he might be the one sending them.» He met my eyes. «So you have considered that possibility?»
«For about three seconds. It wouldn't make a lot of sense for him to head off his own death threats.»
«Oh. Right. But I don't know if he was exactly balanced in his feelings for you. I mean, think about how possessive he was. And controlling. And way over-protective.»
I reached up, automatically touching the ring on the chain around my neck. Steve's eyes followed my hand. «I guess I just never trusted the guy,» he said. «I guess it was mutual.» He stared. «What do you mean?» «You said he threatened you.» «Oh. Yeah.» He glanced at my drink again. I asked, «So when do I start work on the film?» «The … film?» «The Charioteer. What did Bruce say when you told him I was in?»
«Well, actually, I didn't get a chance to call him yet. I'll phone him tomorrow.»
I said, «It's almost funny. I see this direct parallel between the characters in The Charioteer and what happened with Dan and me. Steve blinked. «Yeah?»
«Yeah. In the book, Laurie keeps getting angry because Ralph keeps trying to fix things for him, but the truth is, Laurie is the one who sets that dynamic up. He turns to Ralph every time he has a problem. He knows how Ralph is. So why does he get so angry when Ralph tries to protect him?»
«Uh, dude, I have no clue what you're talking about.» His eyes traveled to the lounge chair and the marked-up copy of The Charioteer script. «So which one offs himself?» «What?»
«I read the scene in the script where the one guy is reading the other guy's suicide note.»
«Oh.» My smile felt like it was on crooked. «Things aren't always what they seem.»
«You got that right.» He held his beer out to me, and said, «Well, here's to not looking back.» He nodded at my moisture-beaded glass, and I picked it up. He clinked the rim of his mug against my glass, and drank.
I watched the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed. I could remember kissing his throat – he had this way of throwing his head back when he laughed. I could vaguely
recall what his mouth felt like on me, although those memories faded next to the vividness of my memories of Dan.
I said, «Like, for example, I can pretty much tell when someone is acting. Dan wasn't acting. You are.» Steve lowered his mug. Beer slopped out the top. «What's that supposed to mean?»
I thought I had myself pretty well under control, but heat suffused my body and my heart began to slug against my ribs in hard measured punches; I felt breathless with something akin to stage fright. «Can we just cut the bullshit?» I requested. His eyes narrowed.
«You want to know where you first slipped?» I didn't wait for his answer. He didn't look like he would have one anytime soon. «It was that crack about changing my will. I haven't thought about my will since I first made it out – back when we were living together.» Steve gave a strange laugh. Hey, dude, don't go psycho on me, okay?» «Up until the bit with the will you'd been pretty subtle.» «You really are losing it, Sean. Dan's right.»
«Dan was right about one thing,» I said. «You do know how to play me. You know just what buttons to push, what triggers my self-doubt. And there was always just enough truth in what you said. But you way overshot the mark with that story about Dan wanting me to check into UCLA.»
Steve seemed to struggle with himself. Apparently the desire to show me how smart he was, won out. «You wouldn't take a hint,» he said. «You hardly knew the guy but you were so goddamn stubborn about him.»
I stared. I knew Steve so well. I knew everything from how he took his coffee to the sounds he made during sex. And it turned out that I didn't know him at all. «You had to know he was going to deny it.»
«So?» He smiled, spreading his arms. «He denied it, but here we are. I guess you believed it on some level. Maybe not for long, but long enough.» I swallowed hard. The truth was a bitter pill.
«How did he take it, by the way? You didn't really say. Was he iron-jawed and dignified, or did he cry?»
Stern and silent, actually, but I wasn't going to discuss Dan with Steve. Not now, not ever. I said, «Once I finally accepted that Hammond had been dead the whole time, I started thinking about who had a reason to want me out of the way. I remembered your comment about the will – and then I remembered that the will was still in your favor.» «I guess the fact that you never changed it says something,» he said lightly. We were silent for a moment. «Why, Steve?» I asked finally. He didn't speak, didn't look at me. «Is it just for the money? Because I would have given you the goddamn money.»
He rose then, shaking the table. He walked over to the railing, bracing both hands on it, staring out at the blue dazzle of the water. «No. It wasn't just the money. Not like you think. I got in deep. Too deep. I owe over four hundred grand in gambling debts – to people who don't understand installment plans.»
«F-four hundred grand?» I said. «You owe almost half a million in gambling debts? How the hell did you manage that?»
«Easier than you think. I convinced people I was good for it. Actually, I convinced them that you were good for it.»
«Why didn't you stop? When you were like … I don't know … eighty grand in? Why didn't you come to me for help?»
«How could I? Besides, I thought I could win it back. I thought my luck would change. It always changes sooner or later.» «Jesus Christ, Steve!»
«Don't be so self-righteous,» he said hotly. «It's an illness – compulsive gambling. Like alcoholism. It's not like I could control it. You of anybody ought to understand about that kind of illness.»
Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Because it was hard to feel much of anything other than bewilderment. «And one of the symptoms was you planned to kill me and inherit my trust fund?»
He looked me right in the eyes and said, «I never wanted that. Never. You're all I've got. I love you. I do. But … it's you or me, Sean. And I don't want to die.» I said, «I know the feeling.»
He reached behind himself and pulled out a gun. I was willing to bet it was a 9 mm semiautomatic. He came back to the table and sat down. Meeting my gaze, he gave me a sad lopsided smile.
Bitterly, I said, «Why the big charade? Why the postcards and killing my neighbor's dog? Why not just shoot me on the deck one afternoon?»
«Because as soon as your will was read I'd have been the cop's number one suspect.» «You got the idea when Hammond's body didn't turn up.»
«That's right. That was what originally gave me the idea. I realized that if Hammond had killed you, my problems would have been over. And when they couldn't find his body, I thought maybe if something happened to you, it would be blamed on Hammond.» «So you created the illusion that Hammond was still out there.»
«It was easier than I expected. I still had copies of those first letters he sent you. So I just faked the postcards.»
The idea he wanted me dead was bad enough, but the deliberate cruelty of sending those cards shook me.
«What did you do, hire some asshole who looked like Hammond to follow me around? Yeah, you did. And that's why the fake Hammond never really did or said anything to threaten me.» He got a weird look on his face. He didn't reply. «Or was that you?» «No.» I stared at him, and then I realized what I was seeing in his eyes.
«Did you … « I swallowed hard. «Jesus. He's dead, isn't he? That's why he disappeared again.» He said with macabre cheerfulness, «He asked one too many questions.»
I absorbed this and realized that I was going to have to give up any hope of talking Steve out of killing me.
