Killjoy

Chapter 21

Anne was one of the most uptight, rigid women Carrie had ever met. She was certain the woman wouldn't be at all helpful, but she was proven wrong. Anne more than held her own. After she finished tying together the sheets, she helped them with the wall. She was a hard worker, with surprising stamina. She didn't have any sense of humor, but then, there really wasn't anything

to laugh about, was there? As long as Anne's sacred marriage wasn't discussed, she was almost pleasant to be around.

She was also the woman in charge, giving them orders as they worked side by side. Punching a large hole through the

Sheetrock with a fireplace poker didn't take any time at all. The insulation was messy but not difficult to remove. They filled a

leaf bag with the stuffing. Luckily, there weren't any wires or pipes in the area they uncovered. Next, they sliced through the sheathing with kitchen knives.

Then they got to work on the boards. That was a bitch. Carrie had to take a break when her thumb started bleeding. While

Anne removed the splinter with her tweezers and bandaged the cut, Sara took over.

By three o'clock in the morning, they were all worn-out.

Sara and Carrie had Band-Aids on every finger. Anne still looked like a fashion plate. Her nails weren't even chipped.

"How's the sheet rope coming?" Sara asked. She pushed the sleeves of her striped blouse up to her elbows and fell into the chair.

"It's ready to use," Anne said. She placed a bowl of tomato soup in front of Sara and then went back to the stove to fill Carrie's bowl.

"I'm too tired to eat," Carrie said.

"You'll need to keep up your strength," Anne told her as she placed her bowl on the table.

Sara noticed Anne take two pills out of her pocket. She turned her back on them when she put them in her mouth and drank a glass of water.

"What did you just take?" Sara asked.

"Oh, nothing," Anne answered as she took her seat across from Carrie.

"Aspirin?" Carrie asked.

"Yes," Anne said just as Sara shook her head.

"Not aspirin. They were pink capsules."

"You're very observant," Anne remarked. "They're prescription medication for nausea. I'm just getting over a bout of illness."

Carrie was barely listening. She had one eibow propped on the table, resting her head in her hand. She was too beat to care

about table etiquette.

"What kind of illness?" Sara asked. She was swirling the soup with her spoon.

"Nothing much," Anne said. "I found this tiny little bump about eighteen months ago, and I told Eric about it. He went with me

to the doctor," she explained. "As it turned out, it was no big deal."

"Thank goodness," Carrie said.

Sara was watching Anne's eyes. "Where did you find this little bump?"

"In my right breast," she said. "I had the biopsy and then got on with my life. Like I said, it was no big deal."

"So it wasn't malignant," Sara said.

Carrie wondered why she was persisting with the subject. Hadn't Anne just told them everything was all right? She thought

Sara was being nosy.

"She just said…" Carrie began.

Sara didn't look at Carrie as she nudged her under the table. "But it wasn't malignant?" She repeated the question.

Anne looked at her soup when she answered. "Just a little bit."

Carrie straightened. "Is that what the doctors said?"

"Oh, you know how doctors are," Anne said. She waved her hand as she added, "They're all alarmists. Eric said they only

make money if they can do a lot of procedures… and surgeries… when it isn't at all necessary."

Carrie glanced at Sara before she asked, "Did they recommend surgery, then?"

"Of course, but Eric said they would, and of course he was right. They thought they could talk me into having my breast

removed. Can you imagine what that would have done to our insurance premiums?"

"No, what would it have done?" Sara asked.

"The rate would have gone sky high. Besides, the insurance company wouldn't have paid for the little procedure anyway."

Removing a breast was a little procedure? Carrie was too stunned to speak. She picked up her spoon and pretended to eat.

"Eric had made some wonderful investments with our cash surplus. He's so clever," she said. "They were good, sound investments that I, of course, approved when he told me about them."

"After he made the investments?" Sara asked. "He told you then?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "He has carte blanche. I mean, he is an equal partner in the business."

Carrie and Sara could see Anne's spine stiffening. She was becoming defensive. Sara took a taste of the soup and then said, "Good choice for dinner, Anne. I love tomato soup."

Anne smiled. "I do too."

"So why do you think the insurance company wouldn't pay?"

"Preexisting condition," Anne explained. "The old insurance policy had lapsed, and the new one Eric found that had a much more reasonable premium didn't begin for thirty days. I had the biopsy during that period where they could say it was preexisting. Eric told me to wait, but I was foolishly anxious. We had the money to pay for the procedure," she hastily added, "if we had believed it was necessary. He did a lot of research on the Internet, and we decided to explore alternative methods. Your soup is getting cold, Carrie."

"About this-" Carrie began. Sara kicked her under the table.

"Yes?" Anne asked. That guarded look was back in her eyes.

"Are there any crackers?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"You're very lucky to have Eric," Sara said.

Carrie choked on her soup. "Yes, you are," she lied. "It's a shame he couldn't go to the spa with you."

"I tried to talk him into it," she said. "He gave me the week's stay as a surprise for my birthday. He wanted me to rest and

relax, and when I got back home, we were going to go back to the doctors and see what needed to be done. I was worried

about what all this would cost, but Eric wouldn't listen. He said that if we had to spend every penny to get me well, then that's what we would do."

That son of a bitch, Carrie thought to herself. He was getting rid of her, but Anne, perhaps still in shock, couldn't accept the

truth, and so she painted this lovely picture of her adoring husband. Had he left her a letter, or did he want her to die without knowing he was responsible?

"We should be on our way before dawn," Sara said, interrupting Carrie's thoughts.

"My hands are raw, and so are yours. Getting down that rope…"

"We can manage it."

"Anne, did you bring any workout clothes?" Carrie asked. "You can't go tromping down the mountain in high heels or the

slippers you're wearing now."

"No, I didn't."

"Between Sara and me, we'll be able to outfit you properly," Carrie said.

Her whole attitude toward Anne had undergone a radical change. She found herself feeling protective and hoping that Anne stayed in denial until they reached civilization.

"Why don't you pack us some food to take along," Carrie suggested to Anne. "And a first-aid kit."

"You could use my fanny pack," Sara said. "It's on my dresser, but I don't have the energy to go upstairs to get it."

"Oh, I'll get it. I love being useful. Don't touch those dishes," Anne ordered as she hurried out of the kitchen.

"I'll wash them later."

The second Anne was out of earshot, Sara whispered, "That bastard."

Carrie nodded. "Now I've got another reason for wanting to get out of this alive. I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

Sara nodded. "You hold the gun, and I'll pull the trigger."