The Kind Worth Saving (Henry Kimball/Lily Kintner, #2)(39)

“Yuck,” Richard said.

“What about you? How are you doing?”

Richard knew she was really only asking out of politeness, or maybe just to check that nothing terrible was happening in his life. He said, “My mother finally died, which was a good thing. And my stepfather moved to Florida. Another good thing. I’m still at the hardware store, but you know that already, obviously.”

“You should have a better job,” Joan said. It was just like her to say something like that to him. It didn’t upset him because they’d always been honest with one another.

“I like my job because nobody bothers me. Well, sometimes the customers bother me, but my boss never does. He doesn’t give a shit so long as I show up on time.”

“It sounds good, Richard. Sorry if I . . .”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m doing okay. Sometimes I’m bored, but now that we’re meeting here, everything’s better. I’m pretty curious why you wanted us to meet.”

She moved her chair a little closer to him, and leaned in. “I want to kill my husband, and I know a way that I can do it, but I need your help.”

Those were the words that he’d expected to hear as soon as she told him that she was married. “You want me to kill him for you?”

She slid her hand over toward him and squeezed his thigh, then took his hand in hers. Richard felt the surge of electricity, almost a flood of heat, that he’d always felt every time he and Joan touched. She looked him in the eye and said, “I do. But only if you really want to help.”

“Of course, I’ll help. I remember Richie Whalen, and he was a total creep.”

Joan smiled, and said, “Yeah, he was a creep, and he’s still a creep.”

“I know I already asked you, but why exactly did you marry him?”

Joan thought for a while, then said, unfolding her fingers, “One, he pursued me, and he was a different person then than he is now. No, that’s not true. But he acted like a different person at the time. He took me to great restaurants and paid a ton of attention to me. You know what’s funny? He kept telling me how he couldn’t believe he was dating the hot girl from his high school, that it was like a fantasy come true. I mean, I never thought of myself that way.”

“You did a little bit,” Richard said, remembering Joan in high school, how confident she was, how other students, and teachers, even, seemed to watch her. “You were the queen bee.”

“I don’t know about that. Anyway, those days are long gone. Now I’m married to a man I can’t stand who cheats on me with one of my friends.”

“You know that for sure?”

Joan paused, and Richard thought she was considering not telling him something. But then she said, “The woman who’s sleeping with my husband is named Pam, and she’s the office manager at the company he owns. I know Pam pretty well. We became friends when she first started working there, and she used to complain about how lonely she was and how great my husband was, et cetera, so I talked her into it . . .”

“You talked her into sleeping with your husband?” Richard said.

“I did, actually. I told her she’d be doing me a favor, that I would find out if he was a cheater, and that she’d be doing herself a favor because believe it or not Richie Whalen might be a creep, but he’s pretty good in bed. So it happened. There was even a time when Pam would tell me about the things he’d say to her, and what they did, and then I guess it got a little awkward—a lot awkward—even though I told Pam I was happy to have the asshole off my hands. I’m a little worried, though, right now, because I get the sense that she wants to end it, and I don’t want to lose the opportunity.”

“You want to kill them both when they’re together?”

Joan squeezed Richard’s leg again like he’d just told her he’d brought her a present. “It’s so perfect. And they’re so predictable. They’ve been going to the same overpriced house that’s for sale on Friday for a while now. You could be there waiting for them, and I’ve thought of a way to make it look like Richard shoots Pam and then himself. And I’ve even got a witness, or I’m planning on getting a witness.”

“Why do you need a witness?”

“Because I want this to be perfect,” Joan said. “I want someone to say that he saw Richard and Pam go into an empty house together. That he heard gunshots, and then he finds the body. I’ll have an alibi, and, of course, no one in the world knows that we have ever even spoken together. It’ll be perfect, Richard, just like it always is. We do have a track record to protect, don’t you think?”

“We do,” Richard said. He was only questioning her about the plan because he was excited to hear the details. It had been too long since he’d had a purpose. “A very perfect track record,” he said.

“I still think about Maine, about being out on that jetty with you and with Duane . . .”

“I think about it, too,” Richard said. “All the time.” He wanted to tell her that he was born on that night, out of that storm, that he came alive on the earth, but he didn’t want to overdo it. He knew she felt the same way but putting it into words might be too much.

“So you’ll help me?” Joan said.

Richard didn’t immediately answer because the librarian’s voice was echoing through their wing, telling them that the library would close in fifteen minutes.