Page 85 of Road Queens
“So ... he’s been coming to see you for a while, Mom?”
“Not lately, but yes.”
“Why?”
Iris gave them a dry smile. “Why else? To commiserate. He knew what it was to feel helpless while a loved one is brutalized. Quite a charming man, in fact. A bit standoffish, but who can judge?”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Many months. He moved abroad last spring.”
“Oh.” Scratch Marcus.
“And you know this to be true because ...?”
“Because there was nothing for him here, former detective Beane.”
“He’s still a detective,” Amanda piped up, surprised as anyone to find herself defending him. “He’s just missing the badge.”
Iris ignored the interruption. “He and his sister visited London when they were teenagers, and she always wanted to return. So he brought her ashes there and remained. He still writes me; I can show you the letters if you wish.”
Beane opened his mouth, but Amanda cut him off. “That’s okay, Iris, we believe you.” Once her husband was in the ground, Iris had never lied again. She’d told Cass that after fifteen years of “I walked into a door” and “I tripped on the stairs” and “I’m taking up tinikling,” she swore never to lie about her circumstances again.
Amanda still couldn’t believe she’d been enough of an idiot to fall for Iris’s tinikling excuse. Yeah, she’d only been fourteen at the time, but it was still galling. She’d looked it up and found out it was a Philippine folk dance where two people held bamboo poles and smashed and clacked them together as the dancers weaved back and forth between the poles, the goal being to avoid shattered ankles. A real dance; a fake excuse.
It was one of the reasons Iris would be in prison for so long: She refused to plead down to a lesser charge, to try and legally downplay what she had done. She wouldn’t allow her lawyer to be even remotely disingenuous (within the boundaries of attorney ethics) on her behalf. And she wouldn’t let Cass lie on her behalf, or even testify.
“Okay, Mom. Thanks for telling us. Sorry to barge in like this.”
“You didn’t barge.”
“And don’t worry.”
“Iwillworry, be assured of that. To the best of my knowledge, I have only failed you once. Never again. Which, of course, meansworrying as well as constant vigilance. Or as best I can manage behind bars.”
“They’re probably not called ‘bars,’” Sidney muttered. “Probably ‘confinement enablers.’”
Despite the gravity, Amanda and Sean laughed.
“Mom, what Dad did wasn’t your fault.” Cass reached out and took the older woman’s trembling fingers in hand. “I never said otherwise, I never even thought otherwise. Whatyoudid was, but I’m older now. I think I understand a little better. You had two choices, and they were both unthinkable. I shouldn’t have said what I said back then.” Cass took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this sooner.”
“You were entitled to voice your objections.”
Voice, shriek, scream, roar ...Amanda was careful to keep a straight face even as she stifled an internal shudder.Christ, what an awful, black day that was.
“Though I’m gratified to see you grow in wisdom. Think how clever you’ll be when you’re as old as I am.” Iris was smiling, but it was an old smile, one Amanda had seen many times when Iris had a husband still living. The I’m-fine-it’s-just-a-cracked-rib smile. The I-shouldn’t-have-provoked-him smile. But Iris was pale and shaky, and it wasn’t just prison pallor or low blood sugar. However calm their tones, the room was fraught with heavy emotion, as it always was when the topic was the worst day of Iris Rivers’s life, and the last day of her husband’s.
“It was ages ago,” Cass said. “I almost never think of it.” She caught herself reaching up to fiddle with her scar, and put her hand in her lap. “Almost never.”
Another lie. But for a good cause.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ages ago ...
“Jesus Christ, why are you so fucking slow?”
Oh, I dunno, bad genes? Why are you such a fucking asshole?
