VH1.02 - The Devil's Due

         At the tippy-tippy top of the highest hill in all of Vienna Heights stood Mercer Manor. Three stories, complete with rounded terraces and ivy dripping down the sides, and the van of Luis Louis Catering docked outside the servants’ entrance.

         That’s right. Servants’ entrance.

         It really wasn’t all that impressive. Apparently, something like ten generations of Mercer men had passed the house down from one to the next. The house was old and gothic and creepy, the kind of place you’d expect to see a bloodsucking fiend pop out of some hidden passage. Or, Luke. Sure, Mrs. Mercer the Current tried to liven it up by painting the trimmings pink, but, everyone knows pink only makes things even creepier.

         Inside, Violet was sitting at the table in the grand dining hall, next to her mother, who had just an hour before told her to be kind to Alison. Something about catching more flies with honey. And, she was trying. She really was. But, this would be easier if she didn’t look so damn -- pretty.

         “I’m going to kill her,” she whispered.

         “Alright, darling. Just, don’t use the good silver. It’s impolite.” Her mother smiled cordially at Luke and Phillip’s mother, Gretchen. “I’ll say, the foie gras is exceptional.”

         “It is amazing what Luis can do with it, no?” Gretchen beamed, turning her attentions to Alison, who sat sandwiched between her sons. “Why, Alison, dear, you haven’t even touched yours.”

         Alison pushed her plate away. “I’m sorry. I just find the whole idea of dining on goose liver to be rather barbaric and cruel.”

         Phillip, from the right side of Alison, cleared his throat. “I completely agree. I only ate mine out of respect to Mr. Louis. Honestly, I cannot understand how anyone would enjoy consuming the vital organs of a goose.”

         Violet rolled her eyes. Just three nights ago, they’d been discussing the menu options for their wedding. He’d gone on and on about Luis Louis because of how masterfully he could manipulate just a few ounces of foie gras, Phillip’s favorite delicacy.

         Of course, she hadn’t eaten hers either, not because she couldn’t stand the buttery aftertaste, but because she was sure that if she were to eat anything, the sight of Phillip pandering to Alison would make her vomit it all over the table.

         “So, Alison,” Luke didn’t miss an opportunity to smile knowingly at Violet. “How long did you say you’d be in town?”

         “It’s funny you should ask,” Alison sipped her water. “Earlier today, when Phillip and I bumped into Violet, I explained I’d be here a few weeks due to a workshop. But, when I got back to my suite, I had a phone call from my employer. He’d like me to stay on here for a while, to secure office space. Preston Industries is going to be making a bid for the old Hanover Complex once it goes up for sale next month.”

         Mr. Mercer was impressed. “You have quite a head for business, young lady. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job of acquiring the perfect space for Preston. Can I assume if they expand to Vienna Heights, you’ll have a position here?"

         “Potentially,” Alison told him. “We’ll have to see.”

         Strange. Violet hadn’t eaten a thing, yet she was still sure she wanted to puke anyways. Guess Alison made her feel the way I felt every time I saw her.

         “Violet, are you alright?” Gretchen asked. “You haven’t touched your food, either, and you’re looking a little pale.”

         “I’m fine,” she managed. “I just could use some air. Could you excuse me?”

         Mr. Mercer and Phillip stood like gentlemen when she grabbed her handbag and left the table. Quickly, she bolted from the room, taking refuge on the patio outside. She rushed out of everyone’s sight, using the railing to brace herself. The dining room was on the first floor, sure, but the way her head was spinning, she may as well have been a thousand miles in the air.

         Her bag dropped on the ground when she went to wipe her eyes, its contents spilling all over the patio. She tried to reach down to gather them, but could not.

         “Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” a voice said.

         Great. Luke. Here to add insult to injury, no doubt. I knew I liked him.

         “What do you want?” She asked him.

         “A cigarette. Watching you melt down is almost better than--”

         “Screwing hookers?”

         He noticed amongst the scattered contents of her bag was an envelope. A pink, Hello Kitty envelope. “What’s this?” He asked, picking it up.

         “None of your concern.” Violet tried to snatch it away from him, but nearly toppled over. She grabbed the railing again.

         Luke read the note. “A fork? I think I’m in love with whoever wrote this.”

         Aw, thanks, Luke. At least someone recognizes genius when it’s right there in front of them. Of course, he had to ruin the fluffing of my ego by showing a shred of concern for Scarlett O’Whimpy.

         “You know you look really gross?”

         “I’m aware of that,” she groaned, feeling her way over to a sunning chair. She eased herself onto it. There. The world stopped spinning so badly when she put her head between her knees. “I was supposed to go see the doctor this week, but, I cancelled the appointment. I was too busy trying to secure the Pelican Landing for the engagement party, which is kind of dumb since it looks like the engagement is over.”

         “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

         “You’ve said that already.”

         Luke re-read the note. “So, who’s ‘I’?”

         Violet shrugged. “I have no idea. She’s sent me a bunch of notes like that.”

         “Wow. Your life sucks pretty bad, huh? Fiancé on the verge of dumping you, psycho stalker, and you look like a pile of cat feces.”

         Man, that Luke. He didn’t really have a lot of points in life, but, astuteness was definitely one of his stronger points. He pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, pursed it between his lips, and lit it. Leaning against the railing, he released a stream of smoke out into the cool evening air.

         “So, you think the notes might be coming from that guy?” He asked after a minute.

         “What guy?”

         “You know. That guy who burned down your father’s apartment building all those years ago. I read in the paper he’s getting out soon.”

         The paper? Violet read the paper this morning from front to back and she couldn’t remember seeing that article. Then again, most of the day was a blur to her. Finding out your groom-to-be is boffing someone prettier, thinner and bustier can do that to a girl. Violet didn’t handle shock very well.

         “Something tells me they don’t have access to Hello Kitty stationary in prison.” Violet told him. “Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if they came from you.”

         “Nah.” He took another puff. “I don’t care about you nearly enough to take that much time. Besides, I don’t like you very much, but, I’m pretty sure watching your fiancé’s ex effortlessly take your place is torment enough.”

         Was he going soft? Must’ve been age catching up to him. Oh well. He may have seen this as torment enough for the shrinking Violet, but, I didn’t. I still had a whammy or two up my sleeve.

         Violet stood, collected her purse and its contents, and walked back over to the doors to the patio. Through them, she could see Phillip, Alison, his parents and her mother, all laughing and carrying on. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Alison was giggling madly. She laid her hand on Phillip’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shove as if he’d just said something positively delightful and devious all at the same time.

         “Guess there’s no chance she could accidentally get her hair caught in the chandelier and strangle herself to death, huh?” Violet mumbled.

         Luke chuckled. “Now, why can’t you show that creativity in those books of yours? Your heroines tend to die of stupid diseases. Do you know how much more fun it’d be if one of them died in a tragic chandelier accident?”

         Violet smiled, then, in realizing what he’d just said, furrowed her brow. “You’ve read my books?”

         “Don’t get all happy about it. I downloaded them illegally online. It’s not like I’d waste money supporting you or supporting the pathetic thing you call your career.”

         I second that motion.

         “No, I suppose not. I mean, you work so hard for your money, embezzling it from your unsuspecting family.”

         “Aww, kitten’s trying to show her claws.”

         Violet rolled her eyes and slid open the door. “Shut up.”

         “Feel better?” Alison asked when Violet and Luke had both taken their seats.

         She took her champagne glass and downed it. “Much.”

         Alison went on. “Gretchen was just telling me before you arrived that your father used to own the Fowler Suites building back when it was apartments?”

         This time, her mother was quick to interject. “Oh, that’s old history. Who wants to discuss old buildings when we’re here to celebrate a wedding?”

         I agreed. No need to discuss that now. Like I ever get a vote.

         “I’m sorry,” Alison went on. “I just read in the paper that the man who was charged with setting the apartments on fire is getting out of prison soon? Do you think he might be behind those awful letters you’ve been getting?”

         “You told her about the letters?” Violet asked Phillip. He may as well have told her about the yeast infection she had last month or her weird menstrual cycles if he was going to be relaying her personal issues to his ex.

         He stammered, gnawing on a dinner biscuit. “Well, I – we were discussing your writing and I mentioned you’d been having an issue with a deranged fan.”

         Hey! I’m no fan! Jackass.

         “I’m sorry if it was too personal for me to ask about it.”

         Violet’s mother put her hand on her arm. “You never told me about any letters.”

         “We don’t need to talk about this right now. Let’s just focus on celebrating the engagement.” She refilled her glass and raised it. “To the wedding of the century that no one is going to stop.”

         There she went again. Telling herself lies even she doesn’t believe.

         Wait a second…what was that? Did my eyes deceive me, or was there a quick look between Alison and Luke? Hmm. My eyes might have been playing tricks on me, but if they were, so were Violet’s, because she caught it, too. My. How the plot does thicken.

************

         Later that night, when Phillip was in his pajamas, lounging on the bed, enjoying a nice match of Scrabble online, Violet was in their den, door shut, on the phone.

         “I need to see you,” she told the person on the other end of the line. “Look, it’s urgent. You know I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t an emergency.” There was a pause. “Meet me tomorrow afternoon at the café on the corner down from your office.”

         Then, she hung up.

         In the bathroom, she disrobed and quietly slipped into a little something she’d been saving for the honeymoon. But, she thought, maybe if she reminded Phillip how good she made him feel, he’d forget all about Alison. As she stood in front of the mirror, though, she thought that, if she had to choose between what was in front of her and the busty goddess that was Alison, she’s not so sure she’d pick the redhead in the ivory nightie with the supple but otherwise modest chest.

         When she appeared in the doorway of their bedroom, she found him closing the laptop. “What the hell’s a qindarka?”

         “I think it’s currency of some sort. Did that little old lady from Tulsa beat you again?”

         “Terribly.”

         Violet slipped onto the bed. “Hmm. Maybe I could think of some way to mend your wounded pride.” She planted a soft kiss on the nape of his neck, but, felt her advances were cut short when he turned away.

         “I’ve had such a busy day, darling. I’m much too tired.”

         Violet’s heart sank. I, for one, was thrilled. There’s only so much Whimpy Barbie/Anatomically Incorrect Ken Doll relations one can witness before they need therapy. Phillip turned out the light and she rolled over and did the same.

****************************

         Phillip was already gone by the time she woke up in the morning. She made herself breakfast, an omelet and juice, and was preparing to go for a run when the phone rang. The ID screen read only “MARSTON STORAGE.”

         “Hello?” She answered.

         “Yeah, is this a miss…Donovan?” A lady asked from the other end. She talked like she should have been twisting screws at a garage some place.

         “It is.”

         “My name’s Sal.” Of course it was. “I just bought this storage lot down on Glover.”

         Violet was vaguely familiar, which meant I wanted her to hang up the phone. Have I mentioned she never does what I want her to do?

         “I think I know what you’re talking about. How can I help you?”

         “Well, my hubby and I were going to reopen the lot to the public, but, when we were cleaning out the holding sheds on the east end, we found a box in #826. According to the last owner’s records, 826 had been owned by a Mr…” she was looking for the name. “Thomas Donovan?”

         Violet shuddered. Was there a breeze? “He is…well, was my father. He died several years ago.”

         “Right. There was an insurance policy. It’s no good anymore since it’s lapsed, but, your name’s on it. There’s just the one box. If you want it, it’s yours, or I can toss it with the other junk that got left over.”

         Violet looked at her watch. She could feasibly drop by Glover on her way to her meeting. “Yeah.” She said. “I’ll come by and pick it up this morning.”

         Frustrated, she hung up. Couldn’t Phillip have said goodbye before he left?



**********

         The Glover district was anything but peaceful this morning. Cranes were all over the place, workers were prying locks off of abandoned storage hubs, and a greasy, large woman in coveralls was spitting out sunflower seeds when Violet arrived.

         “Excuse me?” she asked.

         “We ain’t open for business yet.” Sal said.

         “I’m Violet Donovan? You called me earlier?”

         “Oh!” The woman wiped her hand on her pants then stuck it out. Violet took it, but made a mental note to bathe in sanitizer when she left. “826! Right this way.”

         She led Violet around the lot to one of the storage hubs. It was the second from the end. The lock had been pried off and was on the ground nearby.

         “Take your time going through it, whatever you don’t want, just leave it here and I’ll dump it with the rest of the stuff folks aren’t coming to claim.”

         Then, Sal left her with just the box.

         Ever see those movies where someone’s on their way to the death chamber? Well, the walk from outside to the box at the back of the hub was just like that. Violet’s heart was in her throat. Why didn’t her father tell her he put something in storage? Why wasn’t it in his will? Did her mother know about this? What was in the box? Hopefully it wasn’t a head … like in that movie.

         I knew what was in the box. Stupid Thomas. Even in death, he was screwing me over.

         She used her keys to split the tape holding the box shut, and then pulled the flaps up. Inside, there was a bunch of snow-colored packing peanuts and…a book? A diary. She’d seen this before, she remembered. There was a unicorn and a rainbow on the front, and her name – VIOLET – etched in gold letters down the spine.

         Sitting down and folding her legs under her, she looked at the lock. It was a little dial with 10 numbers on it. She twisted the dial three times. 826. It gave way. There was only one entry, the first page. All the others had been ripped out.

         Dear Diary – I made a new friend today. Her name is Iris and she lives nearby. I don’t like the new house, but Mommy and Daddy say it’s the best house in Vienna Heights. It’s not like that spooky house on the hill, but, I don’t like it. Iris said she doesn’t like where she lives, either. Daddy’s going to take me to show me the new building he bought tomorrow. He showed me once already, but, I forgot. Iris said she’ll go with me this time. I can’t wait. I like Iris a lot. I think we’re going to be best friends.

         Violet looked at the date. Two days after her sixth birthday. The icky penmanship should’ve given as much away. Best friends? Hardly. I can’t stand her. But, she had bigger fish to fry than some diary Thomas left behind, namely, the guy waiting for her at the café on the corner from his office.

************

         “I’m sorry I’m late.” Violet was out of breath by the time she made it into the little café. He was already eating, a tuna on wheat with iced tea, undoubtedly put on her bill.

         The ‘he’ in question was Benny Malone, PI and all-around sleaze bucket. He talked like he was some hardboiled Dick Tracy type. When Violet walked in, he was probably making inner commentary about the dame with the nice getaway sticks.

         “Eh, that’s alright, kid. I bill by the hour. What can I do ya for?”

         Violet sat down opposite him. She was wearing a hat. A big hat. And, sunglasses. Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be seen with him, either.

         “I need your help.”

         “What seems to be the problem?” He had tuna on his breath. And, between his teeth. And, his clothes just did not match. Who told him purple polka dots went with red striped pants?

         Violet cleared her throat. “You know, I’m a peaceful sort. I don’t like to get in other people’s business. I just want to get married to have a few children, to continue my career and to live a long, happy life.”

         Benny grinned. “You want me to marry you and knock you up? ‘Cause, you won’t even have to pay me. At least for the second part. I’m kind of afraid of marriage, since the first three failed and the fourth one decided to become a lesbian…but, I mean--”

         “No!” She calmed herself. “I’m engaged. I’m sure you read it in the society pages. Phillip Mercer and I are getting married. To each other. Or, at least, we’re supposed to be. But, there’s this other woman. His ex who just randomly showed up yesterday.”

         “And, you want me to follow him around? See if he’s diddling the ex?”

         “No.” Violet shook her head. “If he ever found out, he’d think I don’t trust him. I need you to do something else. I need you to dig up all the dirt you can on her.” Violet removed an index card from her handbag and slid it across the table. “There’s all of her information, her name, present place of residence, and employer. That’s all I could find online.”

         Benny mulled it over while chewing on a toothpick. “What kind of stuff are you looking for?”

         “Anything.” Violet told him. “That she’s really a drag queen. That she’s been in rehab a half-dozen times. That she likes to kick puppies. Anything that I can hold over her head and get her as far away from my fiancé and my wedding as possible.”

         “If anyone can dig up a skeleton in her closet, it’s me.”

         Violet looked out the window, watching the people passing by.

         “I can’t let anything stop this wedding. And, I won’t.”

         Poor Violet. There’s a train headed right for her. And, she doesn’t even see it coming.

         Can’t wait to watch her go splat.