Tag Archives: The Lex

Rainbow Connection; chapter ten, part three

Ashley was agitated about her father, calling him a shithead in sheep’s clothing.  When Melissa pointed out that her father was well-known for his contributions to the community, Ashley openly sneered.  She told them they were idiots if they believed everything they saw or heard.  Her father was a first-class prick who had a mistress while her mother was dying of cancer.  This mistress wasn’t the first one, neither, but that’s only to be expected from a bigwig executive like him.  Her father was careful not to expose his wife to his peccadilloes, but she knew.  Everyone in town knew, and her so-called ‘friends’ were always the first ones to tell Janice something, ‘for her own good.’  Ashley vacillated between thinking her mother was a saint for putting up with her father’s behavior and thinking she was an idiot.

That wasn’t the worst part, however.  Ashley was in her father’s den one day, snooping for evidence of his infidelities.  Even though her mother was dead, Ashley still felt the need to protect her.  Ashley found a letter from a lover to her father asking for money because she was pregnant.  She was asking for fifty-thousand dollars for the abortion and for ‘emotional damages’, threatening to go to the media if he didn’t pay.  This was his last warning, the letter read, to do the right thing by her.  Ashley didn’t know who the woman because her father walked in before she could read the whole letter.  Her father freaked, ripping the letter out of her hands and screaming at her for spying on him.  Of course, she gave it right back to him for being a hypocrite before storming off to group.  Her father had caught her by surprise, coming home early like that.  Ashley had thought she was safe because her father normally didn’t come home before nine at night.

Ashley’s agitation that day is starting to make sense.  According to Maria, Ashley already suspected that her father was having an affair before then, but that piece of hard evidence would be impossible to ignore.  I wonder if she had started searching in hopes that she wouldn’t find anything to verify her vague suspicions.  When she first saw the letter, what was running through her mind?  Was she planning on confronting her father?  Or would she have kept it to herself, letting it simmer?  Knowing her even as little as I had, I knew there was no way she would have kept that information to herself.  Most likely, she would have tried to find the letter again to read the whole thing.  I would be surprised if Mr. Stevenson kept it after Ashley found it, however.  In fact, I’m surprised he kept it at all.  I also wonder what the mystery woman would have done if Mr. Stevenson hadn’t paid.  Would she have taken him to court?  Tried him in the media?  Infidelity is not a crime, but it could prove awfully embarrassing for him to be caught up in a nasty situation like that.  Then there’s the question of, is the mystery woman the same person as the one Ashley said she was becoming suspicious of?  If so, someone in group?  I shake my head.  This speculation is getting me nowhere.

The women are still talking about Ashley.  She felt betrayed by her father who was always her idol.  What if Mr. Stevenson killed his daughter to keep her from telling anyone about the letter?  I dismiss the possibility because he would have done it immediately after she read the letter if he did at all for that reason.  It makes no sense that he would have waited a day and a half before killing her.  I miss part of the conversation, but the women are only rehashing what they’ve already said.  My mind is drifting, so I almost miss it when Melissa comments that Ashley said she was going to make her father tell her everything.  When I pressed Melissa what Ashley meant by that, she shook her head regretfully.  She and Jean hadn’t wanted to push Ashley too hard because she seemed so distraught; now, Melissa wishes they had.  It’s mean of me, but I can’t help thinking that the only reason they wanted to know more was so they could have the inside scoop.  Many people crave fame and attention, and these women are no exception.

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Rainbow Connection; chapter ten, part two

“Did she ever tell you any secrets?”  I ask awkwardly, not sure how to continue this conversation.

“Nah, we weren’t that close.”  Maria shrugs and opens the door to her studio.  It’s tiny but filled with riotous colors.  The paintings on the wall are amateurish but quite good.

“Yours?”  I ask, indicating the artwork.  She nods happily as she gazes at her creations.

“I don’t make money doing it, but it’s my love.”  She caresses the frame of a painting entitled, ‘Los Lobos Locos’, though there’s not a wolf in sight.  I shrug.  Paris has a few oddly-named pieces himself, so I’m used to it.  “Can I get you something to drink?  Some coffee, perhaps?”

“Orange juice if you have it,” I say.  I’ve had enough coffee to last me a week.  She disappears into the tiny kitchen after indicating I should sit on the futon.  I slip off my shoes and sit, tucking my feet under me.  She returns in a minute, sitting next to me.  I feel the heat radiating off her.  I inch away so I can make conversation without wondering what she looks like under her red dress.

“It’s too bad you joined the group now,” Maria says, handing me a glass of orange juice.  “It was much better before, and not only because of the murders.  What you saw of Ashley, she hasn’t been like that in months.  I don’t know what set her off that meeting.”

“Tell me about her,” I say, settling back into the futon and sipping the orange juice.

The story is a familiar one.  Ashley had come into the group with major attitude, looking to start fights.  She jumped on everything everybody said, not waiting for someone to finish talking before attacking her.  Even Carol fell victim to Ashley’s tongue-lashing.  It got so bad, the group voted on having Carol kick Ashley out of group.  However, Carol convinced them to give her one more shot, and the group did an intervention.  Instead of striking out, Ashley listened to what they had to say before walking out the door.  The group members were convinced that she would never come back again, but they were wrong.  She was present the following week with her attitude in check.  She still had strong opinions and verbalized them, but she was slowly being weaned off four-letter words and a hostile attitude.

“That’s why it was such a surprise when she jumped on you like that,” Maria explains, tossing back the rest of her coffee.  “Maybe you remind her of somebody or something.”  Or maybe she had found out something disturbing before the group and was displacing her anger; I happened to be an easy target.

“What do you think it was?”  I ask.  I don’t have much hope that Maria will know, but it’s worth a shot.

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Rainbow Connection; chapter eight, part one

“It’s about time, girl!”  Paris coos into the phone.  “I was getting performance anxiety waiting for you to call.”

“Don’t flip out on me,” I caution him as I walk to the well-lit corner of the street.

“What?  Oh my god, you’re hurt!”  Paris screeches theatrically.  He only turns on the camp when it’s the two of us as it is now.  “Miss Thing is probably walking as we speak, ignoring what Sister Paris done told her.”

“Paris, I need you to pick me up.”  I read him my street coordinates, not in any mood to joke.  “Please hurry.”

“I’ll be right there.”  Paris drops the act and clicks off the phone.  As I wait for him, I keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.  I’m afraid the car will come back to try to finish the job, but nothing happens.  I’m able to relax by the time Paris comes barreling down the street towards me in his black Honda Accord.

“Hey,” I say as I drag myself into the car.  I feel as if it ought to be three in the morning rather than nine-fifteen at night.

Of course, Paris wants to know what happened.  I ask where Lyle is and am informed that he’s waiting at the apartment because Paris wanted alone time with me.  He still hasn’t started the car, and I know he won’t move until I give him an explanation.  I take several breaths before blurting out that someone tried to run me over.  I quickly amend the statement, saying that perhaps the person was merely trying to scare me.  Paris, who had started to pull away from the curb as soon as he saw I was going to speak, nearly runs into a lamppost.  I implore him to keep his eyes on the road while I tell him my pitiful saga.  The more I think about it, the angrier I get.  Why is someone trying to run me over?  It’s not like the last time when I actively took a part in the investigation.  I’m trying to keep out of this investigation, but am being targeted just the same—first by the cops, then by the murderer, if that is who tried to run me over.

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