Things We Do in the Dark(82)

In the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of nail polish remover she’d bought at the beauty supply shop a couple of months back. It was 100 percent acetone, and near full. Acetone is flammable; it said so right on the bottle. Reading the fine print on the back, it also said that nail polish remover should never be used anywhere near an open flame, such as a pilot light or any object that sparks, because the vapors could ignite.

It wasn’t so much the liquid. It was the fumes.

She took the matches she used for her candles and stuck them in her pocket, then extracted one of her hand towels from the small rack beside the sink before leaving the bathroom. She opened the nail polish remover and placed it on the floor close to Mae. The odor of the acetone was distinctive, but it was nowhere near enough to cover the smell of blood.

There was only one more thing to do.

Gently, Joey removed Mae’s belly button ring. She also removed Mae’s earrings, watch, and bracelet. Then, reaching behind her own neck, Joey unclasped her necklace.

She looked at the ruby-and-diamond pendant one last time. Maybe this was the reason she’d kept it all these years. Maybe this was why she was compelled to wear it, when she could have easily sold it or thrown it away. Maybe on some level she knew that the thing that had broken her would also be the thing that saved her, allowing her to escape from this life, one that had only ever been filled with violence and trauma and death.

Bending down, she clasped the chain around Mae’s neck. It wasn’t easy. Her fingers were slippery from the blood. After the necklace was fastened, she wiped her hands on the towel and tossed it into the hearth.

“I believe you would tell me that this is okay,” Joey said quietly. “Thank you for being my friend, Mae.”

She heard a small noise and jerked. It was nothing, a creak of the house, but every random sound she heard was Vinny coming back.

It was time to go.

Standing at the fireplace, she took a deep breath, struck a match, and tossed it on top of the books. She did it again, and again, until the fire in the hearth slowly began to grow. Then she moved away, and waited.

There was no way to know if this would work. But if it did, and the whole basement apartment caught fire, then everyone would believe that this was how Joey died. Vinny sure as shit wasn’t going to dispute it. Why would he? The fire would destroy all the evidence that he’d murdered Mae, that he’d ever been here. As sick as it was, she was doing him a favor.

Mae would be presumed missing. There would be nobody to look for her.

And if, for some reason, they figured out it really was Mae’s body in the fire, then they’d know it was Joey who was missing. Other than the Blood Brothers, there would be nobody to look for her, either. That was the chance she’d have to take.

The fire began to gain momentum. And when she saw the bottle of acetone suddenly ignite, the flames shooting up and catching the sofa, and then catching Mae, Joey bolted.



* * *



At three thirty a.m., the streetcar was half full, which would have been unusual on any other night of the year.

“Happy New Year,” a drunk guy sitting across from her said. He was drinking something out of a brown paper bag and looking at her with bleary, bloodshot eyes.

“Happy New Year.” Joey’s hand went to her throat, her fingers searching for her pendant, but it was no longer there.

Ten minutes later, she pulled on the cord above her head. The driver stopped to let her out, and she heaved her duffel bag and knapsack full of cash and drugs off the streetcar and into the freezing cold. Probably the only good thing that could be said about winters in Toronto was that the lake didn’t stink. It was crazy to think that when she was small, she’d swim at the beach not far from here, she and Ruby in matching swimsuits, Joey wishing for all the curves her mother had that made the dads stare longingly and the mothers glare resentfully.

She was now in the area known as the Motel Strip, and she started walking. Because it was a holiday, every motel she passed had its NO VACANCY sign lit, until finally, she reached one that might have a room available.





RAINBOW MOTEL SATELLITE / JACUZZI / BREAKFAST INCL


The lobby was warm when she entered, and the entire space smelled like pot. The stoned clerk barely said a word to her as he slid a form across the desk for her to fill out. The Tragically Hip was playing on his CD player, and years later, the song “Bobcaygeon” would always remind her of the night Mae died. Because it wasn’t just Mae.

Joelle Reyes had died, too.

“I lost my ID,” Joey said, sliding the form back to the clerk, blank, along with four worn fifty-dollar bills. “Lost my credit card, too.”

“No problem.” The clerk was unfazed as he slipped the money into his pocket. “But you’ll have to prepay. How many nights?”

“Let’s do a week.”

He gave her the total, and she paid him in cash. He handed her a room key. As was the case in most of these old motels, it was an actual brass key on a keychain. The plastic-shaped rainbow was so worn that the colors had faded.

“There’s no housekeeping included,” the clerk said, which told her that this entire transaction was off the books.

She was okay with that. “Is it clean?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Depends on your definition of clean.”