Private Scandals

Matthew, November 1988.
    There was no one else in the book. Just a man, young, a little thin, and his hard-faced uncle. Never a young girl or a laughing child, a romping pet.
    The book felt unhealthy, diseased, in his hand. Finn slidit back on the shelf, careful to align the edges.
    Details, he thought grimly. Two could play.
    Underwear was tucked into the top dresser drawer. All snowy white boxers, pressed and folded. There was nothing beneath them but plain white paper, lightly scented with lilac.
    It was almost worse than the mothballs, Finn thought, and moved down to the next drawer.
    None of the usual hiding places was utilized. He found no papers, no packets taped to the undersides or backs of drawers, no valuables tucked into the toes of shoes. The nightstand drawer held a current TV Guide with selected programs highlighted in yellow. A pad and a sharpened pencil and an extra handkerchief joined it.
    He’d been in the house for nearly an hour when he hit pay dirt. The diary was under the pillow. It was leather-bound, glossy and locked. Finn was reaching in his pocket for his penknife when he heard the rattle of a key in the lock.
    “Goddamn it, Fran.” He glanced back at the closet, rejecting it instantly not only as a cliché, but also as a humiliating one. He’d rather face a foe than hide from one. He stepped forward toward the bedroom door just as Jeff walked down the hallway, whistling on his way to the kitchen.
    “Don’t seem too devastated, do you? You son of a bitch.” Muttering under his breath, Finn slipped toward the stairs.
     
    He couldn’t wait to see her. Jeff knew he was taking a chance leaving the office when Fran was so insistent that he stay. But he’d slipped out, antsy to get home. To get to Deanna. The office was in an uproar, he thought. No one could work, and he could always claim to have needed to be alone. Nobody would blame him.
    He poured a glass of milk, arranged fancy tea cookies on a china plate and put them all on a tray with another single rose.
    She’d be rested now, he was certain. She’d be feeling better, more at home. And soon, very soon, she would see how well he could care for her.
    Finn waited at the top of the stairs. He heard Jeff whistling and the sound of dishes ringing together. He heard the footsteps, a quiet click, followed moments later by another.
    Then he heard nothing at all.
    Where did the bastard go? he wondered. Moving quietly, he descended the stairs. He slipped like a shadow from room to room. By the time he reached the kitchen, he was baffled. He saw the bakery box of cookies, caught the candy scent of icing. But the man had vanished like smoke.
     
    “You look wonderful.” Secure in the soundproofed room, Jeff smiled shyly at Deanna. “Do you like the clothes?”
    “They’re very nice.” She willed herself to smile back. “I took a shower. I can’t believe you went to all the trouble to pick out all my favorite brands.”
    “You saw the towels? I had them monogrammed with your initials.”
    “I know.” Her stomach rolled. “It was very sweet of you, Jeff. Cookies?”
    “They’re the ones you like best.”
    “Yes, they are.” Watching him, she walked over, fighting not to grit her teeth. She kept her eyes on his as she chose a cookie, bit in delicately. “Wonderful.” She saw his gaze lower to her mouth as she licked at a crumb. “You were gone a long time.”
    “I came back as soon as I could. I’m going to turn in my resignation next week. I have plenty of money put away, and my uncle invested. I won’t have to leave you again.”
    “It’s lonely here. By myself.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “You’ll stay with me now, won’t you?”
    “As long as you want.”
    “Sit with me.” In a subtle invitation, she touched the bed beside her. “I think if you explain things to me now, I’d be ready to understand.”
    His hands trembled as he set the tray down. “You’re not angry?”
    “No. I’m still a little scared. It frightens me to be locked in here.”
    “I’m sorry.” He eased down beside her, careful to keep an inch of space between them. “One day it’ll be different.”
    “Jeff.” She made contact by laying her hand over his. “Why did you decide to do this? How did you know this was the time?”
    “I knew it had to be soon, before the wedding. When I came in yesterday and saw you in your wedding dress—I couldn’t wait any longer. It was like a sign. You were so beautiful,