The Accessor

“Here…” he held the marshmallow sticks in front of her.

Evelyn was seated on a log facing her friend, Bianca. They were discussing the men in their lives-- namely Derrick and Benny. Benny was the one poking her shoulder with the stripped branches.

“Do you want these?”

Evelyn sighed heavily. “What?”

“You told me to cut you some sticks…” he held them in front of her nose. He made one of those faces at her that said, ‘are you going to take these, or not?’

She answered with a face of her own that said, ‘do you have to interrupt me?’ She took the stripped branches and Benny walked to the opposite side of the fire to stretch out in a lawn chair. He looked at his friend, Derrick. Evelyn couldn’t see the facial expression he gave to Derrick but she guessed it was about the annoyance of women’s needs.

“So Benny, Evie tells me that you two are talking marriage?” Bianca placed a marshmallow on the cleaned stick and held it over the campfire.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Benny accepted the beer Derrick handed him and popped the top. “Evie might be saying that because that’s what she wants.”

“Honey,” Evelyn whined. “We’ve been dating for four years, just when are you going to be ready?”

“Babe, you know this. I’ve told you before—why mess up a good thing with a marriage?”

Derrick held out his hand and Benny slapped it turning his over to receive his friend’s slap. The ensuing discussion between the two couples interrupted the night calm of the campsite. As the campfire blazed the women argued the incredible ignorance of men, and the men smiled, guzzled their beer, slapped each other’s hands occasionally and agreed with the women that they were far too ignorant to venture into a serious relationship. Sometime during the discussion, Evelyn Westell’s frustration reached the breaking point and she stomped away from the fire to her tent.

Her friend, Bianca shook her head pitifully at the two men and then went to her tent.
The woods quieted to the sound of crickets. The fishing stream they sought to rid of its prize bass gurgled not far from their tents. The men drank their beer, staring into the flames of their campfire, and listened to bull frogs croaking for the next several hours.

“What time you got?”

Derrick checked his watch. “10:30. Man? Its only 10:30? Seems like two, or three o’clock in the morning, doesn’t it?”

“Surprised the hell out of me,” Benny answered. “Well, you figure we got up here about three in the afternoon, set up camp, built a fire, cooked dinner, and remember it gets dark sooner now—probably around seven when the light faded. So, yeah,” he was nodding his head up and down like a bobble head. “That’s about right. If we were home, man, we’d just be going into the forth quarter.”

“Yeah,” Derrick stared wistfully into the fire. “I wonder how the game is going?”

“Well, I’m going to turn in.” Benny stood. His back suddenly cramped and he yowled from the pain.

“Oh, you are getting old, man.” Derrick warned. Then he stood, and his legs were also feeling weak. It took him longer to straighten than usual. “Oh man, it must be the damp night air.”

“Sure, blame it on that. See ya, in the morning.”

“Hey Benny, if it gets too cold in your tent tonight,” Derrick grinned. “Try some sweet talk. Tell her it’s not her-- you don’t want to marry anyone.”

Benny scowled at his friend to lower his voice. He held one finger to his lips. “Hush, man, she can hear water dripping.”

Quietly, he eased into the tent and stretched out beside her. He knew his breath would smell of beer, and he knew that she didn’t care for that smell, so he faced away from her.

“Evie, I’m sorry, babe.”

She moved further away from him.

“You know I love you.”

She turned over. “Then what is the problem?”

He turned over raising himself to his elbow, and sighed-- his breath hitting her in the face. “Oh, sorry babe,” he offered, waving his hand to clear the air. Way to go, idiot. Endear yourself to the lady with the smell of beer, yeah, good one.

“I just don’t want to lose what we have. When you get married you have to buy a house, kids come along and then before you know it—you’re in debt. Look at Derrick and Bianca.”

“What about them?”

“He makes as money as I do, and what do they have to show for it? That big house and heavy debts, and now Bianca might be pregnant.”

“What? She didn’t say anything to me. How do you know that?”

“Derrick told me. The test said she was but Derrick wants a doctor’s confirmation.”

“He would. So that’s it? We just go on living together forever because you don’t want to grow up?” Evelyn turned over. Her back was the signal that there would be no further discussion tonight.

By morning Evelyn’s mood had not changed. She greeted sunrise with a scowl. She crawled out of the tent stretching to relieve the ache in her neck and shoulders.

“Damn, that ground is hard.”

Bianca offered her a steaming cup of coffee, and a weak smile. “Feeling better this morning?”

“I feel damp all over like the dew came through the tent and the sleeping bag.”

Evelyn took a seat in Benny’s lawn chair forgetting that it was a lounger she quickly slipped backwards. Holding her cup higher than her shoulder and keeping her arm steady she was able to balance the liquid in the cup as she fell backwards against the recline. She screamed as the action took place.

At the riverbank Benny turned his head toward the camp.

“Did you hear something?”

Derrick stood five feet away in the stream casting his line. “The only thing I can hear is the rushing water and the fish swimming away from your yammering.”

“Sorry, man. I thought I heard Evelyn scream.” He looked up the hill again in the direction of the campsite. He listened, but all he could hear was the rushing water of the stream. “Must be losing my hearing too,” he muttered. “Old age is a bummer.”

“Bummer?” Derrick started laughing. He stepped to the side and lost his footing, he bent his knees to keep his balance in the stream. Bending forward and sticking his butt out supported the balancing act.

“Well, don’t pee your pants,” Benny stated. He waded out to Derrick and took a stance close by. With a flick of his wrist he cast out the line.

“Maybe, Evie is right, man. Anyone who still says, bummer is too old to be single.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we going to fish or what?”

A half an hour later Benny caught a glimpse from his peripheral sight and turned to see Evelyn making her way down the incline to the stream. She held up a thermos.

“Benny,” she called. And then she waved the thermos toward him.

“Your lady is calling you,” Derrick said tethering his line against the flow of water.

“You think?” Benny reeled in his line and shuffled through the knee high water.

“Want some coffee?” She smiled.

He inspected her face for signs of a trap. Her eyes were soft, glowing back at him with the usual blue. She tilted her head slightly downward, embarrassed perhaps?

She was a beautiful woman. This was no trap-- she was apologizing.
Benny laid his pole on the bank and rubbed his hands together as she poured hot liquid into the thermos lid.

“Oh, Babe, you knew what I needed. I’m about to freeze my ass off out there.”

“Well, if it’s too cold, why are you out there?”

She seemed concerned, legitimately concerned. He smiled.

“It’s just a figure of speech. It’s not really that cold.” He squatted as she sat on a near by log. He probably should say something to her. “So, how’s your morning?”

“I nearly killed myself sitting in your lounger,” she laughed.

“Is that what I heard? I thought I heard you scream.” Benny pointed his cup toward Derrick. “I even told Derrick that something must be up, ‘cause….”

Her smile faded.  “You heard me scream?”

Benny had the distinct feeling that he was in trouble. He nodded.

“And you didn’t come to see what it was?”

He straightened up as she stood. They were nose to nose, even though her nose only reached his chin.

“You heard me scream—in the woods – and you didn’t come to see what was wrong? Maybe a bear had come into camp? Maybe a mountain lion was poised on a tree branch ready to pounce on me, and you didn’t come to see if I was all right?”

Benny suddenly realized that he was backing up. He stopped.

“Evie, don’t you think you are getting a little weird? I figured-- if you were in trouble you’d scream a second time.”

“What if I was already eaten?” She stormed away. She did not climb back up the incline to the camp but chose to walk along the path that followed the stream.

Benny turned to Derrick. Derrick was watching the melodrama unfolding on the bank. With the rushing water he could not hear the conversation but he witnessed his friend squat to drink his coffee, stand to face Evelyn and then back up as she was obviously chewing him out. Benny shrugged at him and then followed Evelyn down the path.

Around the bend, the stream widened and increased in depth. The water rushed over a rock ledge dropping as small rapids into deeper water. Past that point the stream became a fast current ideal for tubers.

Benny called to Evelyn but she would not stop, with each step she quickened her pace. He followed behind her for sixty or seventy yards before deciding that she was going to be unreasonable the entire trip. He stopped. He watched her slender figure disappear as she proceeded along the path; finally he shook his head and walked back to Derrick.

That was the last they saw of Evelyn Westell.

                    Their apartment with the grand view of the city was their crowning achievement of success. The expensive leather furniture and designer drapes once glorified their taste in finer things, now it seemed cold from her missing presence. Benny leaned against the railing on the fern covered balcony nursing his drink. His back was to the city lights. He stared through the open doors into the apartment. He could see across the sunken living room at the open kitchen. It didn’t take much for him to visualize her cooking. Moving about the kitchen, her red hair pulled back, chattering away about the day’s photo shoot.

They searched three days for her. She must have slipped, fell into the water, maybe hit her head and went under.

Benny closed his eyes pressing hard until the squint gave him a headache. It was a visual he fought to keep out of his head. No body was recovered, yet, in his mind he could see her floating on the water, her beautiful face swollen and battered from the rocks. He took another drink.

Every room in the apartment was her's. In the bedroom he could see her stretched out on the bed in her white silk pajamas smiling at him when he came home late from work or from stopping at the bar with the boys. She would be lying on top of the spread, under the portrait of herself in the green velvet dress that she wore for some awards banquet or premiere-- he could never keep them straight, but the contrast between the portrait dress and her white silk pajamas was exciting to him.

Exciting because in the portrait she was staunch but beautiful, and lying on the bed she was available, friendly, and there.

Evelyn was a top model in her day, although her day was rapidly approaching the end she was still lovely. It was their age. It was always about age. She was ending her career and wanting to settle down with him, and he was reaching the high point of his and wanting more, that’s why he fought her against the marriage thing. Benny shifted his thoughts as he shifted his body. He turned and leaned on the balcony railing. It seemed pointless now.

He walked into the apartment and filled his glass with more bourbon. Above the credenza where the liquor was kept was another of her photos. This one was somewhere on an island. White sand beaches, clear water, and Evelyn stretched out in the water showing off her fabulous abs that cost a year’s salary in personal trainers. She was leaning backwards on her elbows, her head tilted back, her long red hair touching the water, and there—- he leaned forward to look at the photo closer—- there in her eyes was the reflection that made her the best of the best. She had that come hither look that every boy in puberty must be enjoying in the privacy of his bedroom.

Benny slammed his fist against the credenza. “Damn it! I am an idiot.”

He left his drink and went through the bedroom into the master bathroom, flipped the switch flooding white light against his blood shot eyes. He raised his arm to cover his face. There was a movement in the bedroom. He turned and stared into the semi-shadowed bedroom. The only light was from the bathroom and it reached partially into the other room. The living room was fairly dark. A few candles on the credenza and a small light in the kitchen gave a little relief from the blackness, but not enough to filter into the bedroom. He stared into the shadows again, he was sure he saw something move from the corner of his eye-- a shadow? Nothing; he turned back into the bathroom.

He could smell her shampoos and soaps. Lavenders and Cucumbers lingered along with the baskets of silk flowers and bottles of lotions. He raised the lid and took care of business. There was a slight sound from the kitchen. He leaned his head toward the bathroom door and listened closely. Nothing.

It made him remember their last argument when Evelyn was so angry with him for not rushing up the hill with his sword drawn to fight mountain lions and bears for her. He flushed. He left the light on and made his way back to the credenza. He glanced in the kitchen as he passed, but saw nothing. He reached for his drink, but it was gone.

Benny stared at the spot where he had placed his drink before going into the bedroom. He looked out on the balcony. He went back into the bathroom and looked there. In the kitchen he thought he smelled Evelyn’s perfume. On the counter he found an empty highball glass-- he picked it up and smelled it. He could smell the bourbon. He turned the glass in his hand and contemplating the events of the evening. He came home around eight, after several drinks at McGee’s, and he was on his second drink here when he decided to go to the bathroom. Was it possible he had drunk enough to forget that he had rinsed the glass? It was possible- but not likely.

Benny crossed the living room and went back to the credenza. He made a new drink. Cautiously he watched from the corner of his eye for another shadow to move. He watched from the mirrors, the glass on the oven door, the chrome framing of the bookcases, anything that reflected became his viewing source.

He knew that even with the drinks he had already consumed that night he was not intoxicated- there simply was too much pain in him for the alcohol to take effect. He knew because he kept trying to get beyond the pain, and it never worked.

He thought about Evelyn and the last day he saw her. Suddenly his mind was working again instead of blaming. Thoughts that once shifted between self-pity and guilt now became clear and concise. Instead of viewing Evelyn as the missing love of his life, he thought of her as he did any victim—his job.

What did he know?

He knew he saw her walk away, but he never saw her fall in the water.

He knew they never found a body. He also knew that it was possible to take months to find a body. It could be caught under a log or stuck between rocks in the rapids or swept to the banks and hidden in debris dumped by careless campers—it could show up in a couple of months floating downstream, or caught on some fisherman’s line.

He knew he smelled her perfume in the kitchen. Not a memory like when he was coming out of McGee’s and he thought he saw her red haired ponytail turn a corner and disappear up Fifth Avenue.

He knew he saw a shadow in the bedroom and he knew his instincts were always right. His gut was telling him that Evelyn was still alive, and in that apartment but where?

The balcony, she was on the balcony. When he moved back into the living room she must have been trapped in the kitchen where she rinsed out the glass. He heard that from the bathroom. When he went into the bathroom again to look for the glass she moved out on the balcony.

Benny was still standing at the credenza swirling his drink around and allowing the ice cubes to clink against the glass. He was watching his viewing points, thinking, calculating the situation, and assessing the clues. That’s what he did, that’s who he was, the assessor of clues.

So why did she do it? He sipped at his drink. Ah, to teach me a lesson. Why would any woman do it? They always want to teach the stupid man a lesson.

He walked down the two steps in the sunken living space to the leather couch and sat facing the balcony.

The question is-- what am I going to do about this? This is no game, babe. I spent ten hours at the police station explaining that I didn’t push you in. I have spent almost two weeks now suffering the loss of you and there you are hiding on the balcony and playing games. How am I to deal with this?

Benny saw it then-- a slight movement from the corner of his left eye. He did not turn his head. It was his training that kept him cool. He knew his mark would feel confident and move even further into his line of sight.

Yes, there she is-- peeking around a fern and wondering what I am doing. I’m just sitting here on our expensive leather couch, babe.

The phone rang. Benny reached for it.

“Benny Dolan’s Detective Agency,” it was habit, even with his cell phone, “hey, Derrick.  Actually, I’m fine.”

He raised his voice slightly so she would have little trouble hearing him from her balcony hideout. “No, I just decided to accept that she’s gone-- she’s gone. There’s nothing I can do about it, so why cry over spilt milk? The fern on the balcony shook.

“I mean really, if she’s stupid enough to fall into a damn stream and drown…well, what can I say? Okay, I’ll meet you down at McGee’s. Sure, we’ll celebrate.”

He locked the balcony door before leaving the apartment.

The doorman held the door for him. “Call you a cab, Mr. Dolan? It’s going to rain.”

“Is it?” He looked up to inspect the clouds. “Edward, do you see a figure on my balcony?”

The doorman looked up holding his hand against his hat to keep it on.

“Yes Sir! I do believe there is someone lurking on your balcony. Should I call the police, sir?”

“Oh yes. I believe I would. I would go back up and take care of it myself, but I am late for an appointment.” Benny handed the doorman a twenty. “No need for a cab, Edward. I’ll walk.”

“Thank you, sir, and don’t worry about that ruffian. I’ll call the police straight away.”

“Thank you, Edward.” He started to walk away and then on second thought told the doorman. "Better warn the police that the intruder could be armed and dangerous. Perhaps they should have their weapons ready. They might want to shoot first and ask questions later."

He smiled as he walked away. Well babe, you should be with the police for hours explaining that you are not dead and why you faked your demise. He whistled as he picked up his pace. He felt better than he had all month.

Word Count 3, 507