Page 267 of It Happened on the Lake

She knew.

She’d ridden with him enough to know.

And she hadn’t been the only one. He’d had more than his share of floozies in that car with him doing God-only-knew-what. Her blood turned poisonous as she thought of his philandering and how shameless he’d been. How she had curdled inside when she’d learned of his flings. The distasteful gossip, usually from Louise Chilcote while playing a “friendly” game of bridge or gin rummy.

Louise, with her Lucille Ball red hair teased into a coiffed beehive, was a pathetic card player but had a keen mind for gossip and a sharp tongue for delivering it. Too often, Louise had offered kind, consoling words about George’s latest rumored affair, trying to look sadly concerned for Olivia. However, Louise had never been able to hide the sparkle of nasty delight and satisfaction in her eyes at divulging a tantalizing secret she’d heard from her husband, Roger, the pot-smoking mayor of this tiny town, a damned druggie! It didn’t matter that Louise would make a stupid card play. Oh no. What had been important was that her bit of scandal had hit its mark in embarrassing Olivia. And embarrassed her it had. Always.

Once teenage rivals, now superficial friends, Louise, a neighbor who lived in a modest home on the north shore, had always wanted to one-up the woman with her own private island.

Well, no more!

Olivia had seen to it that she would never be embarrassed by her randy, obscene husband again.

If not today, then tomorrow, or the next.

But soon. Very soon she’d be rid of the beast that made the gargoyles guarding the drive seem tame.

Listening and sipping, watching the ice cubes melt in her glass, she heard the roar of the Corvette’s engine as he accelerated along the rim of the lake. He was driving recklessly. As he always did. Thinking himself impervious to any kind of catastrophe.

And he’d be wearing his cap despite the heat and the fact that the top was up. Incredibly vain, he kept his ever-growing bald spot covered at all times.

“Fool,” she whispered, taking another swallow.

She listened.

Anticipating.

Knowing he would be approaching the S curve, two sharp twists in the road rimming the lake.

She felt her pulse elevate in anticipation.

The powerful engine revved more loudly.

Oh, he was driving fast. Too fast.

She waited. Held her breath.

The S curve was the most likely place for—

Brakes squealed.

Oh!

She perked up.

Heard the crash, a thunderous roar as if the entire earth were shaking. That unmistakable and horrible sound of groaning, twisting metal. The splintering of tree limbs. The shattering of breaking glass. Loud. Long. As, she imagined, the car tumbled off the steep slope, spinning end over end and bouncing against the sheer cliffs and towering firs.

Then the crashing stopped, but a horn began to sound in a steady monotone, like the sound of a heart monitor flatlining.

Perfect.

Slowly she sipped from her glass.

Swatted at a pesky mosquito.

It took several minutes. In fact, she was able to finish her drink before she heard the faraway wail of a siren.

The hornet buzzed around her head, and she smiled before lighting a cigarette.

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