Mysterical-E

He Said, She Says

Annual Marriage Test
by Sybil A. Johnson

As she had every morning for the last seven years, Katrina Moss cleared the breakfast dishes and poured a fresh cup of coffee for her husband. Roland grunted his thanks, not bothering to lift his eyes from his newspaper.

Katrina washed the dishes, standing at the kitchen sink longer than necessary staring at the wedding ring on her finger. After a few minutes of silence broken only by the occasional rustle of paper, she decided she couldn’t put it off any longer. Roland would be leaving for work soon.

Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she sat down across the kitchen table from her husband and clasped her hands in her lap so he wouldn’t see them tremble. Without looking at him she said, “Roland, I was wondering if. . .maybe. . .I, I could do the taxes this year?”

Once the words were out of her mouth, Katrina braced herself for the eruption she was sure would follow. The minutes ticked by and an unnatural stillness filled the kitchen. Finally, when she couldn’t take the silence any longer, she mustered the courage to look up.

Roland peered over the business section at her. “What did you say?”

She shrank back in her seat and said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I. . .I’d like to prepare the taxes this year.”

Roland laughed. “What makes you qualified? All those years of cooking and cleaning?” He shook his head and returned to his paper.

“I know how to do it. I just completed a certificate in tax preparation.” Katrina retrieved a sheet of paper from a nearby drawer and placed it in front of him.

He put the newspaper down on the table so that it covered the certificate she’d worked so hard to earn. “Where’d you get the money?”

“I saved it from the housekeeping allowance.”

“Guess you can get by on a smaller allowance then.” Roland took a sip of coffee, then grimaced and shoved the cup toward her. “This is cold.”

Katrina’s eyes welled up with tears. She busied herself with the coffee until she’d regained control of her emotions. When she placed the steaming cup in front of her husband, she said, “Why can’t you just be proud of me?”

He took a sip and nodded. “Much better. Proud of what? Some stupid certificate? Where’d you go, the community college? Doesn’t mean you can do diddly-squat.”

“My teacher said I was really good, a natural.”

Roland snorted and picked up his newspaper. “Probably say anything to an attractive woman.” He turned his attention back to the business section but, after only a few seconds of reading, he looked at her suspiciously and said, “He knows you’re married, right?”

“It’s not like that.” Katrina grabbed the certificate off the table and carefully put it back in the drawer before sitting down again. “I can do this.”

He folded the newspaper and placed it next to his coffee cup. “Look. Our taxes are complicated. Why worry your pretty little head about them? Let the accountant take care of it like he has every year since we were married.”

“I don’t want housework to be my entire life.”

“Is this about kids again? You knew when I married you I couldn’t have children.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? Taking care of me and the house used to be enough for you. What happened?”

Forty happened, Katrina thought. Forty and the realization half her life was over and she was running out of time to leave her mark on the world. Her husband had his criminal law practice. What did she have?

Roland glanced at the wall clock and stood up. “Don’t forget to pick up my shirts from the cleaners.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out several fifty-dollar bills and tossed them on the table in front of her. “Here, buy yourself something nice and forget about this tax stuff. I have a dinner meeting with a client so I’ll be home late. Why don’t you treat yourself to a night out? Go and see a movie or something.”

After picking up his briefcase, he leaned down to kiss her, but she turned her head so he had to content himself with a peck on the cheek.

Once she heard the garage door close, she cleared the table, dumping the coffee Roland had barely touched into the sink. She wanted to hurl his cup against the wall, but she’d only have to clean up afterward (and explain to her husband how his favorite cup had come to be broken.)

Katrina went about the rest of her morning chores in a funk. By the time the mail arrived, she’d convinced herself Roland was right. There was no sense in trying to do something new at her age.

As she sorted through the mail, she noticed several letters with the words “Important Tax Information” printed on the envelopes. An idea flashed into her mind: she’d prepare the taxes on her own and prove to Roland that she knew what she was doing. After all, no one in the certificate program had a better grasp of the tax code than she did--not even her best friend, Elizabeth, who had been doing taxes with her husband for years. (An act Katrina’s friend had often referred to as their annual marriage test.)

With visions of finding deductions their accountant had missed, Katrina headed into Roland’s office. She gathered everything that looked tax-related and spread the documents out on the kitchen table. After sorting them into categories, she familiarized herself with each item.

The W-2 contained no surprises, but the interest statement from the bank indicated they had less money in their account than she’d imagined. In the investments pile, she found a K-1 statement for a low-income housing partnership she thought they’d agreed was a poor use of their money. Even though Roland was in charge of the family finances, he still consulted her when considering new holdings for their portfolio and listened to her opinion--or so she’d believed.

Katrina marched back into her husband’s office to find out what else he’d failed to tell her about. The file cabinet was locked but, after only a few minutes of searching, she discovered the key taped unimaginatively under a brass paperweight on the desk. She rummaged through the files until she found the previous year’s tax return.

Katrina stood next to the file cabinet and reviewed the return, line by line, starting with the first page of the 1040 form. Everything seemed normal until she found the entry on the “Alimony paid” line. Neither she nor Roland had been married before. Their tax preparer had obviously mixed them up with another client. Had Roland allowed her to look over the return, instead of shoving it in front of her only long enough for her to sign, she would have found the error.

Katrina turned the page over looking for the name of the person who’d made such a basic mistake, but the section marked “Paid Preparer’s Use Only” was blank. The only names and signatures anywhere on the return were hers and Roland’s.

Feverishly, she checked the tax returns for all the years since they’d been married. The alimony line was filled in on every single one of them and, as far as she could tell, no accountant had laid a hand on any of the returns.

Katrina sank down onto the floor with her back against the file cabinet and tried to wrap her mind around the lies her husband had been telling her all these years. She’d used up her last remnants of courage asking Roland about the taxes. She couldn’t see herself confronting him about this situation--at least not until she had more information.

One glance at the tax return she still held in her hand and Katrina knew what she was going to do next.

#

From the safety of her car, Katrina stared with jealous eyes at the single-story stucco house surrounded by a white picket fence. Turning the Social Security Number she found on the alimony line of the tax return into a name and address had been surprisingly easy. Roland would have a fit if he knew how she’d spent the extra money he’d given her, she thought. Hiding her newfound knowledge from her husband had been difficult but, thankfully, he was too preoccupied with work to notice anything wrong.

Now that she was here (only an hour’s drive from her own home), Katrina wasn’t sure what to do next. The bicycle in the driveway and the toys scattered across the lawn told her Lilith, Roland’s ex, had started a new family. (Though she apparently hadn’t legalized the union since Roland was still on the hook for alimony.)

Reopening old wounds just because Katrina wanted to know why her husband’s first marriage had failed didn’t seem right, but curiosity finally won out. She was halfway up the walk when the front door opened and a woman who was prettier than Katrina had hoped for poked her head out the door and called “Roland!”

Katrina turned, expecting to see her husband striding up the path, but instead, a boy who could only be her husband’s child raced across the street toward her.

The next thing she knew, her head hit the grass and the world slipped away.

Katrina woke up to find herself lying on a couch in an unfamiliar living room. The boy she’d seen outside sat quietly at a table in the corner, drawing on a piece of butcher paper. The woman who’d come to the door held in her hand the picture of Roland Katrina kept in her wallet.

“How do you know my husband?” the woman asked.

For a moment, Katrina thought Roland had neglected to get a divorce before marrying her. . .then reason returned. He wouldn’t be forced to pay alimony (and be able to take it off on his tax return) if he were still married to Lilith. Katrina sat up and rubbed her head. “You’re divorced. Aren’t you?”

“That’s merely a formality. He still loves me. We only got a divorce so he could marry someone with money.” Lilith openly inspected Katrina from head to toe, taking in the designer suit and shoes, the most expensive articles of clothing in Katrina’s closet. “Oh. . .that’s you, isn’t it? I expected you to be older. . .and uglier.”

Lilith must be talking about someone else, Katrina thought. Her father did have millions, but Katrina hadn’t seen a dime since he’d married her off to Roland. (And wouldn’t even after he died.) Though her husband didn’t know that, she suddenly realized.

Lilith threw the picture on the coffee table. “Why are you here?”

Katrina feigned a headache to give herself time to think. While Roland’s ex was out of the room getting medicine, Katrina studied the boy who reminded her so much of her husband. Not once during their whirlwind courtship had Roland mentioned a son. In the gentle voice she’d always imagined using with her own child, she said to the boy in the corner, “Hello, Roland. How old are you?”

He didn’t seem to hear her so Katrina repeated the question.

“Roland! Answer the nice lady,” his mother said as she walked back into the room with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

“Eight,” he said, not bothering to lift his eyes from his artwork. No need for a DNA test, Katrina thought. This was definitely her husband’s child.

After downing the aspirin she no longer had to pretend she needed, Katrina nodded her head toward the boy and asked, “Does he see him?”

“All the time. You didn’t really think all those business trips were about business, did you? You’d understand if you had children. Don’t worry. I’m sure your fertility problems aren’t an issue. After all, Roland already has an heir, no need for another. Now, let me get you some tea.”

In the next few hours, Katrina learned more about her husband’s past life than was healthy for her to know. As they walked to the door at the end of the visit, Lilith said, “Tell Roland I’ll see him soon.”

That evening, Katrina sat in the kitchen, staring with unseeing eyes at a cookbook that lay open on the table before her, and waited for her husband to come home.

As soon as he walked in the door, Roland sniffed the air, devoid of the usual tantalizing aromas, and said, “Where’s dinner? Is something wrong?”

She focused her gaze on the open cookbook. “Why did you marry me?”

With barely a hesitation, Roland said, “I fell in love, of course.”

She tried to read his face, looking for a tell-tale sign of the lie lurking beneath the surface but, as far as she could see, he’d answered her question honestly. “Is that all?”

“What else is there?”

Katrina pulled out the tax return she’d hidden under the cookbook and held it out to her husband.

Roland grabbed the document and glanced over it. “Where did you get this?”

“I met him. He looks just like you.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The son you claimed you couldn’t have.”

Although her husband had a bit of a temper, he’d never struck her, but the way he looked now Katrina wondered if violence was around the corner. She put up her hands to protect her face from an attack. When the expected blow didn’t fall, she looked up to see Roland sitting across the table from her, shock written all over his face.

He obviously had never entertained the notion she might one day discover his secret. His continued silence gave Katrina the courage to go on. “Lilith was very informative. I understand you’ll be seeing her soon.”

Roland stood up and stared down at his wife with the saddest expression she’d ever seen on his face. “You have no idea what you’ve done.” He left the kitchen and closeted himself in his office for the rest of the evening.

In the days that followed, the two of them barely spoke, eating their meals with only the occasional pass-the-salt moment to break the silence. When he wasn’t at work, Roland spent a considerable amount of time on the phone, hanging up whenever Katrina entered the room. She didn’t know why he insisted on keeping his extracurricular activities a secret now that she knew of his ex-wife’s and son’s existence.

After one of the hang-ups, he raced out the door, not bothering to tell her where he was going or when he’d return. She followed him to his office where, on the sidewalk in front of the building, he spoke to an attractive brunette wearing a leather jacket and jeans. How many women did Roland have waiting in the wings? Katrina wondered.

The exchange lasted only a few minutes. Nothing in their body language indicated the two were having an affair. As far as Katrina could tell, they’d merely met on the street and struck up an innocent conversation.

After returning home, she vowed to ignore his behavior and keep to her usual routine. Several times, when she was out running errands, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Once she even thought a car had followed her home, but it turned out to belong to a neighbor.

Not long after that incident, Katrina found a small manila envelope with no postmark stuffed in the mailbox. The outside was addressed to her in block letters. Tucked inside she found a plain piece of paper printed with several lines of type: “If you want to know what your husband is up to, be at the St. Barnabas tonight, 9 p.m.” Signed “A Friend.”

With its five-star ambience, the St. Barnabas was just the kind of hotel her husband would choose for an assignation. But, whoever this woman was, he wasn’t meeting her tonight. As an apology for his recent behavior, he’d booked a table at an upscale restaurant and told her to dress for a night on the town.

Katrina tossed the “friendly” warning in the trash and headed into the bedroom to get ready for her date with her husband. A couple hours later, wearing her slinkiest dress, her hair in an elaborate up-do, she was digging through her jewelry box for earrings to match her outfit when the phone rang.

In a voice filled with apology, Roland said, “I’m sorry, honey, but I’m going to have to postpone our dinner. Something came up at work. Why don’t you stay in tonight? I’ll order a nice meal from Giuliani’s and have it delivered. Isn’t that chick flick you want to see on TV? The one about the shopaholic?” He paused to give his wife time to respond, but Katrina was so surprised she couldn’t think of anything to say. “I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he said before he hung up.

Once the shock of the cancellation had warn off, Katrina fished the letter out of the trash and reconsidered her position.

#

A few minutes before nine that evening Katrina sat in her car, parked across the street from the St. Barnabas, and watched the white-gloved doorman greet guests and hail cabs. She wondered which one of the scantily clad women entering the hotel was having the affair with her husband.

Still dressed in evening attire, Katrina entered a lobby bedecked with glittering chandeliers and ornate furniture. Her gaze swept the room for a sign of her husband. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the brunette he’d talked to on the street the other day but, when she turned, the woman was nowhere to be seen.

Finally, Katrina spotted Roland standing next to the bank of elevators. Her stilettos click-clicked on the marble floor as she made her way across the lobby, intent on confronting him before an elevator arrived and he was lost in the maze of anonymous rooms in the multi-story building. She’d almost reached her goal when Lilith materialized from behind a pillar.

Slipping her arm through Roland’s, his ex wheeled him around to face Katrina. “Look who’s here, darling,” Lilith said.

Resembling a deer in the headlights, Roland froze for a moment before shaking off Lilith’s arm and addressing his wife. “Kat! I thought we were meeting in the room.”

“No need to pretend anymore, Roland. She knows,” Lilith said.

Roland looked from one woman to the other, confusion evident on his face. “Knows what?”

“Don’t you get it?” his ex continued. “She doesn’t trust you. She didn’t believe your story about working late and followed you here.”

“Just admit you’re having an affair,” Katrina said. “All I want is the truth.”

“What are you talking about?”

She’d caught him red-handed and he still wasn’t man enough to own up to his mistake. Katrina turned around and started toward the entrance.

“Kat! Wait! Don’t go!”

The pleading tone in her husband’s voice convinced her to give him another chance. “What about the room you booked? How do you explain that?” she asked as soon as she stood before him once more.

“I booked? You were--” Roland turned to Lilith who was standing to one side, obviously pleased at the fight taking place before her. “You set this up, didn’t you? Told my secretary you were a client in urgent need of my legal services. Did you masquerade as my wife, too?”

“You don’t have to pretend you no longer care about me. I know better,” Lilith said.

“That restraining order should have convinced you I’m not interested. I never loved you and I never will.” Roland grabbed Katrina’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

As she let herself be led away, Katrina could feel the waves of hatred emanating from the woman behind them, almost pushing the couple out the door onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

As soon as they were safely outside, Katrina stopped in her tracks and confronted her husband. “What was that about?”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about Lilith,” Roland said. “Don’t worry about being taken in by her. She’s a very convincing liar. My secretary was sure you were the one who called and said I should meet you here.”

“You really were working? What was that about the urgent client?”

“Lilith made an appointment under an assumed name. Told Joanne she was going to be arrested for murder and needed my legal help right away.”

“Then she never showed up.” Katrina nodded in understanding. For a nutcase, Lilith was a clever schemer. A lot of energy had gone into planning the deception. She must have been working out the details ever since the two of them had met. Making the phony appointment with Roland. Sending the “friendly” letter. Booking the hotel room. “She’s crazy. How can you leave your son with that woman?”

“Son? That’s the second time you’ve mentioned this mythical son. Lilith lied to you. I have no son.”

The child looked too much like Roland not to be his. Katrina couldn’t stay married to a man who would deny his own flesh and blood. Blinded by tears, she stumbled into the street intent on getting away from her husband as quickly as possible.

Halfway across, someone yelled. She looked up to see a monster SUV bearing down on her.

Katrina froze.

The car accelerated.

Strong arms shoved her out of harm’s way.

As her head hit the pavement, Katrina heard a sickening thud followed by the roar of an engine fading into the distance.

#

Katrina spent the week following Roland’s death in a dreamlike state. She barely understood when the police told her a witness had identified the vehicle involved in the hit-and-run and Lilith was now behind bars.

Her days filled with funeral arrangements and legal paperwork, Katrina had little time to think about the future. Her new reality finally set in after the service was over and she was alone in the house.

She was sifting through some papers in her husband’s desk when she came across a partially filled-out 1040 form. Roland must have started this not long before he died, Katrina thought. The stupid argument they’d had about her preparing the taxes ran like a movie through her mind until the doorbell brought her back to the present. In no mood for company, Katrina yanked open the front door and came face-to-face with the brunette Roland had talked to on the sidewalk in front of his office.

“Mrs. Moss?” The woman stuck out her hand. “China Fox. Sorry to disturb you. I’ve come about your husband.”

“If you two were having an affair, have the decency to keep it to yourself.” Katrina tried to close the door, but the woman’s foot was in the way.

“You don’t understand. I was the one who witnessed the. . .accident.”

Katrina opened the door wider. “You gave the description to the police. Lucky you were there.”

“It wasn’t entirely luck. I’d like to explain.”

Katrina studied the woman’s face before coming to a decision. “Would you care for some coffee?”

Once they were settled at the kitchen table with cups of steaming liquid in front of them, Katrina said, “How exactly did you know my husband?”

China took a business card out of her pocket and slid it across the table. “I’m a private investigator. He hired me to keep an eye on you.”

“Follow me, you mean.”

“Protect you.”

“From what?”

“Lilith. She’s not the most stable person. Once you made. . .contact with her, Mr. Moss was afraid she’d try to harm you. He’d always been careful to shield you from her.”

“She didn’t seem dangerous. At least not until. . .”

“She was very possessive and jealous where her ex-husband was concerned. As long as she had no clue he’d remarried, he thought he could control her.”

“What about his son?”

“He was told he couldn’t have children so he didn’t believe Lilith when she said she was pregnant.”

“The doctors were obviously wrong. The child looks just like him.”

“Mr. Moss had never seen him. Any contact with his ex after they separated was through his lawyer who made sure she didn’t press the issue.”

Roland had probably thrown enough money Lilith’s direction to prevent her from kicking up a fuss. His ex could pretend Roland would return to her some day and Roland would have her out of his life. All was rosy until Katrina wandered into the picture and disturbed Lilith’s fantasy world.

“What’s going to happen to him? The boy?”

“He’s with relatives. They’ll take good care of him.” China stood up. “I just thought you should know about your husband. He was a good man.”

After Katrina saw the P.I. to the door, she settled down at the desk and studied the tax form she’d pulled out earlier. The excitement had gone out of the task. She wiped a tear from her eye, then pulled the 1040 form toward her and, in an unsteady hand, wrote the word DECEASED followed by Roland’s name and date of death across the top of the form.

* * *

After a rewarding career in the computer industry, Sybil A. Johnson turned to a life of crime (writing). Her work has appeared in Mysterical-E, Spinetingler Magazine, King’s River Life Magazine, Crimson Dagger and Silver Moon Magazine. A past president of Sisters in Crime Los Angeles, she also served as co-chair of the 2011 California Crime Writers Conference.