Private Scandals

anybody but family. And he was the only family I had. Then, when he died, there was you. So I knew it was right.”
    “Jeff.” Deanna used all her skills to keep the conversation flowing, to steer it in the direction she wanted. “Do you think your uncle would approve of what you’re doing now?”
    “Oh, absolutely.” He beamed, his face sunny and innocent and terrifying. “He talks to me all the time, up here.” He tapped his head, winked. “He told me to be patient, to wait until the time was right. You know when I first started sending you letters?”
    “Yes, I remember.”
    “I dreamed about Uncle Matthew for the first time then. Only it wasn’t like a dream. It was so real. He told me I had to court you, the way a gentleman would. That I had to be patient. He always said that good things take time. He told me that I would have to wait, and that I had to look out for you. Men are supposed to cherish their women, to protect them. People have forgotten that. No one seems to cherish anyone anymore.”
    “Is that why you killed Angela, Jeff? To protect me?”
    “I planned that for months.” He leaned back again, rested one bent leg across his knee. Conversations with Deanna had always been a high point of his life. And this, he thought, was the very best. “You didn’t know that I let her think I was taking Lew’s place.”
    “Lew’s? Lew McNeil’s?”
    “After I killed him—”
    “Lew.” Her fork rattled against the china when it slipped through her fingers. “You killed Lew.”
    “He betrayed you. I had to punish him. And he used Simon. Until I started to work with you, I never really had friends. Simon’s my friend. I was going to kill him, too, but I realized he’d been used. It wasn’t really his fault, was it?”
    “No.” She said it quickly, punctuating the word by laying her hand over Jeff’s. “No, Jeff, it wasn’t Simon’s fault. I care very much about Simon. I wouldn’t want you to hurt him.”
    “That’s what I thought.” He grinned, a child praised by an indulgent adult. “You see, I know you so well, Deanna. I know everything about you. Your family, your friends. Your favorite foods and colors. Where you like to shop. I know everything you’re thinking. It’s as though I were right inside your head. Or you’re inside mine,” he added slowly. “Sometimes I’d think you were inside mine. I knew you wanted Angela to go away. And I knew you’d never hurt her yourself. You’re too gentle, too kind.” He turned his hand over to squeeze hers. “So I did it for you. I arranged to meet her in the parking lot at CBC. She sent her driver away, just like I’d told her to. I let her in, took her down to the studio. I’d told her that I had copied papers from the office. Story ideas, guests, plans for remotes. She was going to buy them from me. Only she didn’t tell me you were coming.” Incredibly, his bottom lip poked out in a pout. “She lied to me about that.”
    “You killed her. And you turned the cameras on.”
    “I was angry with you.” His mouth quivered, his eyes lowered. Deanna gripped her fork again with some idea of using it as a weapon. The effects of the drug were wearing off, and she felt stronger. She thought she could thank fear for that. But his eyes lifted to hers and the searing light in them had her fingers going numb.
    “I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to hurt you. I nearly wanted to kill you. You were going to marry him, Dee. I could understand your sleeping with him. Weak flesh Uncle Matthew explained all about how sex can pervert,and how weak people can be. Even you.” The hand that covered hers tightened, tightened, until bone rubbed bone. “So I understood, and I was patient, because I always knew you’d come to me. But you couldn’t marry him, you couldn’t take vows. I knew it was you when you opened the door. I always know when it’s you. I hit you. I wanted to hit you again, but I couldn’t. So I carried you to the chair, and I put Angela in the other one and turned on the camera. I wanted you to see what I’d done for you. I’d already been upstairs, in your office.” He compressed his lips, sighed and gently released her throbbing hand. “It was wrong of me to wreck your office. I shouldn’t have gone to Finn’s house, either. I’m sorry.”
    He said it as though he’d neglected to keep a luncheon appointment.
    “Jeff, have you ever told anyone about your feelings?”
    “Just my uncle, when we talk in my