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SWEET POISONED WINE
By
Edita A. Petrick
© copyright by Edita A. Petrick, Oct. 2007
Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, Oct. 2007
ISBN 978-1-60394-061-0
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
The construction on Interstate 10 started just after exit 29, about five miles out of Lordsburg. The patches of freshly paved road alternated with the ridged, noisy strips of undercoating. Her car tires tattooed a message as they smacked softly on the coated surface.
There's no place like home. You're a fugitive, a fugitive, a fugitive....
When the tires suddenly hit the rough portion, the message changed into explosive pops.
Kate shook her head and blinked. She had been driving all day and night. An hour before, she had left Interstate 25 at Las Cruces and merged with the New Mexico traffic heading for Arizona. Austin, strapped down in the passenger seat, had long ceased chattering or asking to stop to eat. She should have stopped at Las Cruces, pulled into a motel. It was nine o'clock at night and though the Interstate wasn't deserted, it wasn't busy either. She felt her eyes closing when she tried to follow the tail lights of the car ahead and abruptly switched lanes to force herself to stay alert.
She was still trying to come up with a story that wouldn't frighten Austin. Once they passed San Antonio, the six-year old had asked, "Where are we going, Mommy?"
Where indeed? she thought, glancing at her daughter and forcing cheer into her voice. "We're going to visit friends who live far away, honey," she finally said.
"Are we going to come back soon? I want to open my presents."
She pretended to be occupied with another abrupt lane change. She didn't want to lie to her daughter, but she couldn't scare her either. After all, what kind of mother dragged her child out of bed at four o'clock on Christmas morning? What kind of mother hustled her six-year old through the servant's wing and out into the parking lot, then stuffed her into the car, in the front seat? What kind of mother wouldn't let her child go check her presents under the Christmas tree? What kind of mother drove across Texas before finally stopping for gas and breakfast at a fast food restaurant in New Mexico?
The answer was simple. A desperate and frightened mother.
She had no plan. There wasn't time to make one.
Last night, hiding in the dark closet, she pressed her hands on Austin's ears to block her father's grunts of lust and filthy language. Duncan and Soraya having sex sounded like a bar room brawl. Soon, her hands pressed against the little ears started to tingle. When she couldn't keep her elbows straight because of cramps, she whispered to Austin to hold onto her and stay quiet. Once all the panting, groaning, and smacking quieted, Austin fell asleep in her lap. When her breathing grew deep and regular, Kate relaxed and moved her head to see through the wooden slats. She couldn't see the bed. Duncan's bedroom had a large sitting area where he lounged after sex, having a drink and cigar, re-charging no doubt for another rodeo session. She might be able to crawl along the floor all the way to the door, and if she couldn't get out quietly, she'd simply jump up and run. She'd have to leave Austin sleeping in the closet. Once she was out of his apartment wing, she'd set off a fire alarm, create enough commotion to give Clothilde a chance to get Austin out.
She waited, listening for padding feet that would let her know they were going to the raised sitting area to lounge and have a drink.
She heard shuffling, flapping of fabric, and a thud of pillows tossed around. The house staff smirked whenever they cleaned Duncan's bedroom, even though they were careful not to let the gossip reach the 'master'.
"A stampede again, mui loco ponies," Maria would murmur to her sister, Elvira, when they piled dirty laundry into baskets. If Kate stood nearby, they'd hurriedly shove the laundry out of sight, smiling at her then quickly turning away.
She would ignore the mess and walk away to find a mirror, to check whether the mask she had worn for six years held in place. She didn't care about Duncan's infidelities. If he fucked other women, it kept him busy, left him little time to abuse his wife in the bedroom. When her father was still alive, Duncan would barge into her bedroom once or twice a week, at three o'clock in the morning, and proceed to 'awaken' her to the pleasures of his lovemaking. In the morning her cheeks would burn red. The blue color elsewhere on her body would be hidden by clothing. She used to fight him, with hands and words then gave up because she had to stay alive, for Austin's sake. She'd lie in bed, eyes shut and listen to him call her a whore, a slut, a bitch, and deadwood. He came, he cursed, he used her body and left it bruised, but that's all she'd yield to the man her father had sold her to. He could never touch her spirit that sought comfort in tender memories of real lovemaking that sustained her even as she suffered his violent thrusts.
She nudged the closet door, rising on her knees when she heard Duncan's voice.
"I took care of everything. Collins won't be able to see a thing. Once the system blows and the cable snaps, it's a done deal."
She sat back, holding her breath, confused. Was he talking about Mike Collins, Clarke Technologies' chief engineer who headed the project Sea Urchin?
"Symmington will have the Navy divers on standby." She heard Soraya's throaty, almost masculine voice. She was from Cairo, but spoke with what used to be called an 'upper crust British' accent. She had come to U.S. with her parents, as a child, but went to Oxford, according to what Kate had overheard from house staff gossip.
"Symmington can go fuck himself. The tests will be run in deep water. The divers will be useless. That's just the usual Navy bullshit," Duncan said.
"Collins will insist on going down on the first dive," Soraya murmured.
"Yes, as per joint agreement. There'll be one of ours, and one of theirs. It's tragic that the first dive will also be the last, at least for a while."
"The buyer's finalized arrangements. The money transfer will take place twenty-four hours post public announcement that there's been an accident," Soraya said.
"Why twenty-four hours? I'm not waiting that long. Isn't my word good enough? What if the Navy wants to keep it under wraps? I've no control over that part. Once the cable snaps, my job's done. I'm not going to be the one to lose out in this deal. I want my money in the Swiss account an hour after it's over, do you understand?"
"Ahmbal wants to read about it in the newspaper. He wants public confirmation that the test failed. The Sea Urchin design must be openly discredited. That way, there's less of a chance that their prototype nodule will be scrutinized when they come out with it. Ahmbal wants to make a point that Kwon-Suk Technologies succeeded where the Yanks failed." She laughed.
"Ahmbal's a fucking broker for the slant-eyed pricks. Why does he need to make a point?"
"Koreans, my dear."
"Like I said, slant-eyed pricks."
"Racial slurs are crass. Besides, they're paying you an indecent sum of money. They probably included the stipulation as part of Ahmbal's contract. Publicized failures are very memorable."
"Fine. You look after that part, once I give you go-ahead," Duncan grumbled. "You leak the news to the press. And if the Navy comes down hard on you, well, you can say you were overcome with grief and compassion for those who perished in the tragedy."
"I'm in contracts, not public relations. How am I supposed to leak out anything to the media?"
"Darling, you're a clever woman. Find a way. Do what people do in a state of panic…call 911. Hell, call Collins' family, babble on the phone. Call the Clarke security and scream. Get everyone to mount a rescue operation, create mayhem, it won't be scrutinized or questioned. You're a woman. They're expected to be...." His voice trailed off, and Kate got the impression he wanted to rescind much of what he had already said.
"Stupid?" Soraya spat the word.
"Emotional," Duncan said.
"You always find the right thing to say, don't you?" she said, but Kate thought that she wasn't completely satisfied with his answer.
Finally, Kate heard the padding of feet and took a deep breath, then once again carefully nudged the closet door open. She glanced at Austin, sleeping on the floor, closed her eyes and said a quick prayer, then slid out and crawled for the door.
Duncan must have turned around, getting the liquor from the cabinet that stood behind the couch, and saw her. She felt his eyes on the back of her head and jumped up, running for the door. She burst outside and would have escaped except the staff re-arranged chairs in the corridor, because they had guests over Christmas. She ran into a Regency bench, stumbled and Duncan caught up to her.
"Are you spying on me, dear wife?" His voice hit her in the face like a wood paddle. "I didn't think you'd be interested in my overnight guests, or pillow talk."
"I'm not. Let me go." She didn't yank her arm and stood calmly, facing him, knowing he'd see nothing but flat indifference and flint-hard eyes. Austin was still sleeping in the closet.
"You don't lie very well, Kathryn." He was the only other person beside her father to call her that. She didn't mind. Those who cared about her and those she cared about always called her Kate.
"I'm not lying. Let me go. I'm looking for Austin. She was playing hide-and-seek with Clothilde and got away from her. I came to see whether she'd made it this far."
"That's very inventive. So, what did you think of my lovemaking? Did you see what a woman does when a man's making her dreams come true?"
She almost laughed. "I only have nightmares, Duncan. This conversation is wholly unnecessary. As a husband, you're a triple zero. That's what you stand for-overbearing, obnoxious, and overweight." She glanced at his slightly protruding belly.
He raised his free hand, aiming to slap her face.
"Either help me look for my daughter or get back to your lover before she leaves to find her dream man."
"Unlike you, dear wife, my lover is the kind of woman who has men standing in a queue...."
"Go queue, Duncan," she laughed. "And don't forget to chalk-up your tip." She knew what would come next and ducked his fist. He had to let go of her arm to lean back, aiming to slug her and that's all she wanted. He staggered past her, falling down when he missed.
"It's Christmas Eve, Duncan," she said with scorn. "It's a time of peace, harmony, and goodwill, not brawling, not killing...." She hadn't meant to say that. It rushed out and it was the worst possible thing to have slipped out. He rose off the floor, pushed back his shoulders and glared at her in a way that made her shiver.
"What else have you overheard, Kathryn?"
"Nothing, I told you, I'm looking for Austin."
"What did you overhear and don't fuck with me or...."
"I found her in the closet," Soraya's voice came from behind. Kate turned and saw her pulling sleepy Austin with one hand, while describing theatrical circles with her other.
Before Duncan or his lover could speak again, she ran up to the woman, grabbed Austin's hand and dragged her down the corridor and out of the wing. She knew Duncan wouldn't dare to follow her to the main house. They had guests and the staff would still be up, cooking and preparing the Christmas Day lunch.
She dragged whimpering Austin along until she ran into Clothilde. The old Cajun nurse was the only one she trusted.
When they settled Austin in bed and walked away but didn't leave the bedroom, she turned to her friend. "Clothilde, Duncan will most likely order his security to keep an eye on me, and Austin. Don't ask why. I'm in trouble. It's bad. I have to leave the house tonight, with Austin, of course. He'll probably have you watched, too."
The nurse hugged her. "Child, you have to tell me what it's about. I'll help. I always have, but I have to know. What's going on?"
"Do you remember when mother used to jump in her car, spool out of here and drive for hours, until she found a bar somewhere in New Mexico?" She waited for Clothilde's nod and heavy sigh, and continued, "and father would send his security goons, Tustin and Smith to bring her back, but she wouldn't stay long. She'd kiss me and pat my head, and she'd hug Darryl and tell him not to cry because she was just going somewhere for a rest...."
"Oh, child," Clothilde shut her eyes. Kate knew the nanny remembered only too well. After all, while Mrs. Quinn was in a sanatorium, Clothilde had had to take care of her children. Wymont Quinn meant to show his wife what he'd eventually do, as a permanent solution, if she didn't stop running away to seedy bars. Mother had escaped before he carried out his threat. Was the same solution now beckoning to her daughter...?
"I was playing hide-and-seek with Austin. She ran away from me and hid in Duncan's bedroom, in the closet. Just as I found her, Duncan and Soraya came in. I was stuck. I overheard things ... hideous things. He caught me as I tried to crawl out. He knows I heard what the two of them talked about, but I don't think he'll do anything tonight. I'm not going to let him lock me up in a sanatorium. I'm not like my mother. I have to get away tonight."
"Where will you go, child? Houston's filled with friends but none you care to rightfully call your own. The Mastersons are about the only ones I'd say would hide you."
"They're not in Houston." She sighed. Douglas and Emily were from Boston, her mother's friends. For twenty years, Douglas had been with the Quinn Oil and Gas, a Senior Vice President of Offshore Explorations. Now, he was the VIP of Marketing and Duncan was his boss. Doug and Emily would shelter and protect her because they were friends of the Hughes first and only then friends of the Quinns or Clarkes. But the Mastersons had gone to visit their son on the east coast and wouldn't be back until the New Year.
"Where are you going to go, child?" Clothilde repeated, squinting with worry. "And taking the little one with you, where will the two of you go? He'll have security after you in a flash. He doesn't even have to leave the ranch these days. He'll just phone, fax, and teleconference, track you with one of those peeping birds in the sky. He has the money and technology to do it."
"Maybe, but it's Christmas, holidays. He won't be able to do things as quickly as he likes. I have to leave tonight. No one must know I'm gone. Tomorrow, it won't matter that much." She didn't want to tell her nurse that she had no idea where she'd go.
There was no time to plan her flight. No time to study a map and stab a finger down to see where Fate would like her to head. She knew she couldn't stay at the ranch. Duncan would have her committed to a sanatorium. And she couldn't leave Austin behind because Duncan would use the child as a weapon against her. No matter what hardships she'd bring upon her daughter, Austin couldn't stay at the ranch. While she was baptized as Austin Beatrice Clarke, like her mother she could never be a Clarke simply because she wasn't a Clarke's daughter.
Duncan Clarke didn't know it, and Kate had to make sure he never, ever learned it.
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