ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
Chapter 35
LIFE INSURANCE

She ran a feather duster over the armoire and then remembered she’d left the lemon oil downstairs. She could hear angry voices coming from Margreth’s suite as she went down the stairs. The door, which had been open earlier, was now shut. Quinn and Willson were arguing, but their conversation was difficult to understand.

Intrigued, she hurried back to the third floor and headed straight for the laundry chute. All the hired help knew it was the house’s best intercom. She opened the door and stuck her head in. You would have thought she was sitting right in the room between the two jackasses.

“I said, Sir, cremation is tacky, unless you’re one of those unfortunate slobs who spontaneously combusts,” Harley Quinn noted.

“I’m not going to sit next to my wife’s corpse, with her fake plastic nose, and spout platitudes,” William replied. “It’s disgusting. Besides, the woman was an annoyance in life, and I’m glad to be rid of her. The problem is, I think whoever de-toed her could come after me.”

Quinn rifled through Margreth’s closet. “Look, Sir. She had many lovely outfits. A nice mauve suit by Chanel would have been perfect on her in life.”

“For God’s sake, Harley, I don’t care. Take your pick. The police are going to show up any minute.”

“You must admit your fault in all of this, Sir.” Harley was more than a little distraught.

“Not mine. I didn’t do that to her. I never would have done that. Damn, these latex gloves are hotter than Hades.”

“If you hit that lock with a hammer, it’ll break open. Just do it.”

Gloria heard the clank of metal and wished she was a mouse so she could see what was happening. One of them was apparently banging on the locked file cabinet in Margreth’s closet.

“Senator, you should review this insurance policy. Do you know anyone named Andrew Comstock?”

“Never heard of him. Give me that,” there was a pause. “We never bought life insurance. Margreth’s family had money, and so did mine. Who is this asshole?”

“Her secret lover, maybe? Or a hidden love child?”

“You bastard,” Willson glared at his valet. “Take it back, Harley. That was uncalled for.”

“I really don’t like that word, William. It pisses me off,” Harley Quinn snarled at his boss, and he rarely showed his true colors.

“We need to track down this person, this Comstock guy,” William’s voice grew sinister. “Margreth left him the proceeds of her life insurance. Maybe he’s the one who killed her.”

“I don’t think so. It was Holmstead,” Harley was sure of it. “How much insurance are we talking about?”

“The policy is written for five million,” there was a pause, “and of course it has double indemnity.”

“I’m unsure if they’ll see mutilation as accidental.”

“We will find this Comstock creature. Margreth was tortured. I don’t want to be disfigured, even in death.”

“Listen, this is your problem. Don’t drag me into this.”

“Calm down, Quinn. You really don’t have any family, do you? Need I remind you? And I can count your friends on—oops, that would be on no hands?”

“Don’t believe everything you’re told. What kind of politician are you?”

“Your father was an alcoholic, and he’s no longer alive. Your mother left when you were two. You were the only child. Do the math.”

“It’s not that simple, Senator Willson. That was a bunch of lies,” Harley said. He smiled, and although Gloria couldn’t see him, she felt the tension rise in the laundry tube. “You probably also think our meeting was just a coincidence.”

“You spilled soup on my shoes in the Senate dining room,” Willson said. The entire structure of his life seemed about to fall apart, like a house of cards.

“My brother sent me,” Harley began. “He told me I was a useless piece of monkey shit, and he’d have me killed if I didn’t do something besides screw up every scheme he conjured. He is a conman extraordinaire.”

“Arkansas was a lie as well?” Willson wanted to snap the cadaverous valet in two.

“Maybe,” Harley Quinn laughed. “Nothing you can do about it now. I may fill you in, and I may not. We’ll have to ponder that.”

“It doesn’t matter now. I believe we’re both doomed. Holmstead’s just waiting for a chance to get rid of us. And Margreth was up to something—she took the Top-Secret papers right out of my office. Holmstead returned them, so he must be responsible for my wife’s murder.”

“Holmstead is a dangerous enemy to have. Don’t forget Margreth’s piggies,” Harley noted. “She won’t be playing this little piggy with Comstock anymore, if he was even her lover. She donated them all to the CIA.”

“Shut up. We’ll need to use some clever footwork to get out of this. Who might Comstock be? She knew him for eighteen years. Maybe she was a spy. Until we get the answer, we’re no safer than she was.”

Harley was confused. “It’s probably right under our noses. Think.”

The men fell silent.

“Did you hear that?” the Senator whispered.

“It’s probably Margreth’s ghost. You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

“What happened when you went to Sanctuary, Harley? What caused my wife’s mutilation?”

“It was the usual political crap-throwing contest. They blamed each other, and you, for Underhill’s accident with the clone you gave him. They pretty much have the evidence about you and Underhill, and they’re not happy about it. I kept my mouth shut.”

“I’ll give you that, Harley. You’ve been discreet. I just got word that Underhill’s mishap caused a killing spree in Cedar Creek. The town’s so small you can’t blink or you’d miss it, but there are four more dead.”

“Cedar Creek?” Quinn suddenly felt scared. His voice cracked, and William looked up.

“What’s wrong with you? You look like someone walked over your grave.”

“My mother lives in Cedar Creek, Michigan. I almost stopped to see her when I was so close.

“What a goddamned coincidence. Looks like Holmstead’s going to have a heyday with you,” the Senator sniped. “Just how many secrets do you have, Harley Quinn?”

“Only a few,” the valet admitted. “But I’m getting a bad feeling about this. This whole thing smells like Jim-Bob’s handiwork. He’s a mean son-of-a-bitch.”

“Spill the beans. I really want to hear all the details.”

“So do I,” Gloria whispered from her perch upstairs.

“My name is Harley Quinn. That’s not a lie. But my full name is Harley Quinn Nash. We got run out of El Paso when the community found out that my mother was living the oldest hillbilly joke in the world.”

“What are you rambling about?”

“My mother and my brother are fools. They committed the worst sin. Incest. They’ve taken the highway to hell. Then, unfortunately, there was a kid,” Harley replied. “He’s a fucking mute. All he ever says is ‘Hi Fly’. Poor soul is an inbred genetic disaster.”

“Get out of here,” Willson stammered. Gloria tensed and backed out of the chute.

“I’m damned sorry,” Harley admitted honestly. “I never thought this could happen. I cut them out years ago. They are all insane.”

“Go grab a newspaper. Your brother just killed his kid and his mother.”

“What are you talking about?” Harley felt like he might drop to his knees. He was a rubber band stretched to the limit.

“Fly Carrington,” Willson said. “I told you there were four deaths in Cedar Creek. It was some poor mental case named Fly. His father shot him, the chief of police, and his own mother. I guess you aren’t lying now, Harley, because your whole family is dead.”

The silence was filled with shock. Gloria wanted to quickly go downstairs and slightly open the door to see what was going on.

“Harley, are you okay? Put that down, boy. It’s dangerous,” William Wilson sounded like a cornered rat to Gloria.

“You really don’t want to play games with me,” Harley snarled. “Do you think I’m going to believe that? Just how coincidental would that be, huh? My pedophile with a dead child and my family, all in the same town?”

“Calm down, Harley. Go check it out yourself,” Willson insisted. “I’ll get you the best psychological help available.”

By accident, Gloria let the chute’s door slam. The sound of the metal door could be heard in the bedroom below.

Harley looked up and listened for the footsteps overhead. He didn’t like Gloria Imbriago. He didn’t like her at all.
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