Chapter 20

“Next week... ,” Morris started, and then he trailed off. He’d come out to the apron to talk to them in mid-afternoon with some purpose clearly in mind, but he seemed embarrassed.

“Next week?” Maggie encouraged when he paused.

“Yeah. Next week. Well ... Barbara, my wife, is coming down for a few days,” he finished in a rush.

“Oh?” said Maggie in surprise. She hadn’t realized that Morris was married. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” she said, uncertain how to respond.

Jason, however, was rolling his eyes obviously. She looked at him askance; she knew he liked Morris tremendously, and was astonished that he’d be so openly rude. On the other hand, Morris didn’t seem all that happy either.

The older man saw Jason’s expression. “I know,” he said glumly, “but it’s part of the package. She doesn’t come real often. Look, you remember the drill from last time, tell Maggie, will you? It’s going to be especially ... I mean, with Maggie here now and all. You know.” He beat a hasty retreat to the lobby.

“Oh, boy,” said Jason with a sigh.

She giggled a bit at his demeanor. “What’s this all about, babe?” she asked.

“Barbara’s a real piece of work,” he said. “Mostly she stays away, thank God. But a ­couple times a year she drags her sorry ass down here and makes Morris’ life miserable for a few days, and generally tries to fuck up everything around the place. She’s going to love you.”

“Why me particularly?”

“You’re a woman,” he said succinctly. “Look, I’ll give you the story tonight.” They’d quickly fallen into the habit of spending most nights together in her trailer. For a short while they’d continued to use two cars, but dropped the ruse when Morris went to Jason privately to express appreciation for the discretion they were showing. “No need to burn extra gas,” he’d added, and they’d taken him at his word; now they used whichever car was convenient.

That evening Jason gave her a briefing on “the wicked bitch of the north.”

“Mostly she lives up in New Jersey someplace. They’ve got a pretty nice house there, Morris showed me pictures once, but he told me he won’t go near it. He pays the bills and gives her an allowance and he stays as far away as he can. But every few months she comes barging in to ‘see about her investment,’ she calls it, and she checks out everybody and everything and goes around barking out orders and dumping on anybody in sight.”

“Her investment?” Maggie asked in surprise.

“He told me about it,” said Jason. “Remember his story about originally buying the place to put up a condo? Well, she gave him the seed money. Got it from her folks. He paid it back years ago with interest, but she never lets him forget it. I think her name’s on the deed, too.”

“If she’s independently wealthy—” Maggie began.

“That’s the fun part, or maybe not so much fun for Morris. She isn’t.”

“What about her family, then?”

“They died a while back. She was the only child, so she inherited. Morris told me she’d been saying for years she’d dump him as soon as she got her money. He was pretty sloshed that night, it was just before her last visit and we closed up the bar. Anyhow, the way he told it she was positively panting for her folks to drop dead.”

“She sounds really charming,” Maggie observed.

“Oh, yeah. Anyhow, the old folks went out in style, wrecked a car and totaled them both, and then she got the bad news—there wasn’t any money! Her old man lost it, mostly in the stock market, and they’d reverse-mortgaged the house and put everything else into an annuity that finished when they died. All this time Barbara had been ragging Morris about what a shitty businessman he was, starting with these big plans for a condo and winding up running a motel in East Bumfuck—she thinks the Keys are some Godawful backwater, bitches about it every time she’s here. Anyhow, she’s been giving him all this shit and then it turns out she’s going to have to live off what he makes out of it for the rest of her life. And she hates it.”

“Why do they stay together?” asked Maggie. “I mean, she lives there and he lives here and they don’t even seem to like each other.”

“Money. She made him sign some sort of paper when she got her parents to kick in for the down payment, something about if they split she gets the investment he bought with it. The place is worth about a thousand times what they put up, it wasn’t a lot, but he told me he’s seen a lawyer and the guy says it’s likely to stand up. But she can’t leave him either because she can’t run the place, and if she sold she’d take a beating. Morris does pretty well, and he keeps her going in pretty good style.”

“How sad.”

“Sadder for Morris, he’s a good guy. But she only does about two weeks a year, so he’s got the other fifty which is more than a lot of people get.

“Anyhow, instructions are to walk real light around her. She gives orders, say yes, ma’am, yes, ma’am, and then go on doing things the way you have been. She mouths off a lot but she’s got no follow-through, won’t notice that you’re not doing what she says. I don’t even think she remembers what she’s said for more than a couple of minutes, she just says it to show she’s in charge. It’s mostly just a hassle.

“But Mag, you’re probably going to get a good piece of it, so be warned.”

“Why me?”

“You’re a woman and you’re there. She pisses all over the poor guy any chance she gets, and he wouldn’t go near her anyway. But she figures if she isn’t boffing him he’s probably getting it someplace else and she doesn’t like any woman within miles of him. She tried to fire one of the maids last time, he told the girl take a couple of days off until Barb went back. If there are women she wants them old and ugly, and even then she isn’t happy. And as soon as she sees you—”

“Should I take a few days away?” she asked anxiously. “I hate to miss the time with Minacou—”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to take it that far,” he said. “Not unless she really gets to you, and then just do it for you. She’s all bark, and if it really comes down to it Morris’ll stand up to her, he did that over something or another the last time and backed her off. But she’s got a really mean mouth on her, and it’s going to get on your last nerve. Just don’t tear a piece off her if you can help it, smile and take it and go on with your work.”

“All right,” she said. But for the next few days she grew increasingly nervous about the impending visit.

For the first two days Maggie had almost no contact with Morris’ wife, only seeing her occasionally as she walked through the lobby or the halls. What she observed left her pleasantly surprised, given Jason’s build-up. In appearance Barbara was fairly small, shorter than she, and not at all unattractive—nothing like the brassy, overweight harridan she’d been expecting. And while the woman certainly seemed to be making herself busy around the motel, the orders she gave were spoken in moderate tones so far as Maggie could tell. She commented on it to Jason the second evening, but all he said was, “just wait.”

The waiting was over the third morning. Maggie usually spent the early part of the day, before the heat made it uncomfortable, sitting in her cabana office updating her computer records and playing back the audio she’d recorded from the hydrophones, and was taking a short break at a boardwalk table for coffee when Barbara abruptly walked out from the lobby, high heels clicking against the concrete and her tasteful business suit swishing as the ocean breeze took it.

“You’re Maggie, I believe,” she said in a smooth, pleasant-sounding voice. “I’m Mrs. Steinberg. Morris’ wife.” The introduction took Maggie a little aback—”Mrs. Steinberg?”—but she mentally shrugged it off.

“Yes, I’m Maggie Russell. Dr. Russell,” she said, figuring her credentials might help smooth the way. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Doctor?” came the well-modulated voice.

“Not medical,” Maggie explained. “I have a Ph.D. in marine biology.”