Smaragdus

Genevieve parked her car in front of her house and got out. She was looking forward to a long, relaxing bath she hoped would restore some peace of mind that had lately gone missing. Therese had acted conspicuously aloof and she hated that. Am I losing my hold of her or what the hell’s going on? For the past month her most skillful accomplice had mostly stayed away and kept her updates to a minimum. Sighing, she decided she would have to tighten the leash one way or another.

“The weight of the world on your shoulders…” tutted a low voice Genevieve was startled to recognize. A man she had not seen for years stepped out of the half shadow that had hidden his presence. Genevieve stared at him so silently she could almost hear the cigarette paper rustle as it burned from his drag. Her temporary paralysis seemed to amuse the man whose outward appearance was very easy on the eye. The eyes, two clear pools of blue, were his most striking feature, and had he never said a word or smirked, he might’ve been assumed a gentleman. A tiny pale dot where his upper lip joined the shaven skin marked a scar Genevieve remembered all too well. She was sure no one else ever paid attention to it, at least none other than the flattering kind, but to her it was the unerasable reminder of his unpredictability, of violence that broke loose when least expected.

“You’re so awfully tense, Gen…” he whispered, raising his big, sinewy hand to stroke the back of her neck. “I will massage it away.” The obvious pleasure the man took in his deed made Genevieve shudder. It was an involuntary reaction she could not control or hide.

“What are you doing here?” she managed to ask. “Why are you here?” As always, the best defense was a good offense.         

“Straight to the point,” he scoffed, focusing on his half-smoked cigarette for a change. “Never a moment wasted with you. I'm here to claim what is mine.” His voice no longer mellow, he looked indignant. “All that time and you never once came to see me…” He shook his head in grave disappointment. 

The man dropped what little was left of the cigarette on the driveway and stepped on it. “Now I want a stiff drink and a nice home cooked meal,” he said, giving Genevieve a light push in the back to show him inside her palatial home. “I think I’ll stay for a while. I like it - beats Ossining,” he chuckled, enjoying her displeasure.

The dormitory, two hours later

“I think I have it figured out.” Therese had laid the plans of the Metropolitan Museum of Art all over Abby’s desk at the dormitory. “I see it as a perfectly timed incision right after the opening. Shouldn’t be too hard when executed properly.” She sounded a bit too confident, which didn’t escape Abby.

“There’s a lot going on that night, and the guards aren’t yet set in their ways,” Abby mused out loud. “Established routines usually work in our favor, don’t you agree?” She hated to think that Therese was in for any recklessness just because she wanted the heist over and done with.

“You can certainly look at it that way, but after Richard’s visit, I wouldn’t be counting on any false sense of security on his crew's part.” For days now Therese had tried to put herself in Richard’s position, adopting what she suspected to be his professional mindset regarding the safekeeping of the Empress’ jewels. “We need it to be immediate, almost foolhardy, to succeed. And it has to happen on Richard’s watch.”    

Abby looked stunned but also impressed. “That is bold. And dangerous - but I don’t need to tell you that.” She pulled her chair closer to the prints to examine the layout more closely. “Is there something I can do? Carol’s already talked about taking Harge with her to the opening night gala, so I will be there too.”

Therese thought about Abby’s offer for a second. “I’m not sure yet. The video surveillance needs to go blind for at least thirty seconds when I make my move.” She did have an idea of how to bring it about, and even how to make it appear innocent enough at the moment when it was needed for real.

“Is there someone behind the door?” Therese asked Abby suddenly. She was certain she had seen a figure stop by Abby’s office.

Abby didn’t waste time finding out. A young girl whom Therese had once seen carrying a laundry basket along the corridor was there looking frightened. “What is it, Kelly? Why are you skulking around my office?” Abby’s tone was sharp but it wasn’t completely without kindness.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” the girl kept repeating. “I didn’t mean to…” Kelly seemed genuinely mortified by having appeared so impolite.

“It’s alright, Kelly,” Abby interrupted, finally smiling. “Is something wrong? Just tell me.” Therese was reminded of Abby’s reassuring kindness she herself had come to know at her time.

“I have an urgent phone message from Miss Threadgoode,” Kelly managed to stammer.

Miss Threadgoode. Therese recognized it immediately as one of Genevieve’s devious aliases.

Abby avoided Therese’s sharp glance and focused on Kelly. “It’s okay. Let me hear it.”

“A woman who didn’t say her name asked me to tell you… hang on, I wrote it down…” Kelly smoothed a torn paper slip with writing on it. “Miss Threadgoode asks you to do a song twice.”

Therese stared at the girl. The harebrained message made no sense at all - a feeling Kelly seemed to share. “That’s it… honest… I didn’t get it wrong… that’s what the lady said…”

To Therese’s great surprise, the spoken words had a tremendous effect on Abby. Barely hiding her agitation, she rushed Kelly quickly out of the office and leaned against her desk to catch her breath.

“What the fuck’s going on, Abby?” Therese demanded to know. “You’re white as a sheet and practically shaking… What’s Genevieve gotten herself up to now?” Abby wasn’t faring well at all, and it frightened her.

“Therese, I have to go. I have to go immediately. I will tell you everything you need to know later. I promise.” Abby’s eyes darted around the room as she was figuring out what she might need with her. Just when Therese was about to object being left in the dark, Abby pulled out a gun from one of the drawers and put it in her handbag.

“Jesus, Abby…” she gasped. “You have to tell me!” Therese had never seen Abby packing a gun before nor could she imagine her ever using one.

“Trust me, Therese,” Abby said, taking pains to sound convincing. “I must deal with this first.” She practically leapt out of her office, leaving a flabbergasted Therese behind.

Abby’s heart was racing as she walked up to the front door of Genevieve’s manor. She had parked her car further down the road in order not to draw unnecessary attention to her arrival. The message Genevieve had sent her continued to make her sick: to do a song twice meant only one thing - Sing Sing - and Abby knew all too well whom the notorious place referred to.

The house seemed quiet, which Abby found unnerving. Without a key there was only little she could do at the moment, so she had to ring the doorbell. For a long time, she couldn’t detect a movement of any kind inside, and she had all but run out of patience when a discrete sound of footsteps finally reached the door. Abby clutched the gun inside her coat pocket, aware of her total unpreparedness to face whatever nastiness awaited inside.  

“Oh, it’s you…” Genevieve said, exhaling. She had opened the door just a tad, but seeing Abby, she let her in.

“Where is he?” Abby asked, keeping her voice steady. The gun felt cumbersome against her damp palm. “I told him that if he ever came back, I’d kill him.” Acknowledging out loud what she had once vowed to do had a curious effect on her - it almost calmed her down.

“He’s not here right now.” Genevieve locked the door. “Went to a poker game or something…” She grabbed Abby’s arm as they moved to the parlor. “But he will be back.”

Abby felt lightheaded. Only a second ago she had been ready to use the revolver, but now as her adrenaline rush was dissipating the whole meaning of her first impulse flooded her true self. Abby was not a killer, and Genevieve knew it, but there were things - people - in this life she would kill to protect.

“I will wait for him then,” Abby said simply.

“He’s not stupid. And we’re not the only ones who know that he’s back. It’s Jimmy Three Fingers’ card game he went to.” Sighing, Genevieve sat down on an ornate Rococo chair and rested her head against the foliate relief on its top rail. “I sent Michelle away as soon as he showed up. Good help is so hard to find.”

It wasn’t very often that Genevieve was kind or nice, and even now Abby couldn’t tell if her taking pity on her cook fell into either of those categories. Surely she had spared the girl from an excruciating amount of abuse and by doing so had focused his attention all the more potently on herself instead. ‘Kind’ and ‘nice’ were Abby’s attributes but what good had they ever done to her? At least now she was carrying her own weight, determined to do away with the nightmare that had set them on this particular, perilous path.  Yet Abby knew that although he’d provided them with the ways and means, they themselves had created the hell. Will these hands ne’er be clean?

Neither of them had said his name as if speaking it would grant him superhuman powers, but it hung in the air between them like a bubble of poison gas. Ray Vickers. Or Ray the Wicked, as Abby had come to call him. Almost a decade ago he’d been put away - for good, she and Genevieve had thought. Yet here he was again.     

“So are we to do nothing then?” Abby asked. “Sit around and wait for him to ruin everything… and everybody? ” With everybody she meant only one person - Therese.

“Of course not!” Genevieve shot back. She was retaining her old spirit that had no tolerance for fools or snap judgments. “I will deal with him when the time is right.” Sensing Abby’s disbelief urged her to continue. “We stand to lose so much if we start messing things up now.”

It did little to assuage Abby. “Therese needs to know. We can’t keep this from her, not while she’s about to risk everything for the sake of those jewels…”

Genevieve didn’t want to hear any of it. “Are you mad? We can’t tell her! What do you think will happen when she finds out what really took place ten years ago?”

At the moment Abby couldn’t have cared less. “She has a right to know.”

Genevieve glared at Abby as if what she’d just said was the most stupid thing she’d ever heard. “If I don’t know where she is I won’t be able to protect her.” Now there was a sentence Abby had never expected to hear from her.         

“And you’ve done such a brilliant job of looking after her interests…” Abby scoffed without thinking it first. “Her stepfather, the sonofabitch who not only ruined her and her mother’s life but also framed her for manslaughter, is back in town, but somehow you’re able to tell yourself that her not knowing about it is in her best interest. How do you do that?” The ugliness of it all disgusted Abby more than ever before.     

The same thing happened with Genevieve that always did in the moments like this. She hardened herself to the point that she no longer resembled a susceptible, sensitive human being. Genevieve put up walls, unsurpassable and immoderate, designed to fend off all allegations no matter how reasonable they were to start out with. Whatever Abby would say from this point on would be like water off a duck’s back. “I said I will deal with it,” sounded off her steely reply, and it left no doubt in Abby’s mind that she herself would be dealt with as well if she were to interfere with Genevieve's plan.

Genevieve’s place, two hours earlier

“You’ve done good,” Ray Vickers complimented Genevieve, washing down the last piece of a huge ribeye steak with a greedy slug of her hostess’ priciest single malt. He let his eyes wander around the dining room, appraising everything with an easy eye of an auctioneer. “A bit pretentious, but then again it befits you.” He pushed his plate further away from him and fished a cigarette out of a pack he had waiting on the table. “So the kid doesn’t live with you?” he said more as a statement than a question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Genevieve replied. “I have no idea what you think is going on here, but whatever it is you are sorely mistaken…” Her outburst was cut short.

“Come, come now…” Ray chided her. “Do you really think I don’t know what you two have been up to all these years?” He swirled his whiskey, watching how the strong liquor coated the thick glass. “Remember Olivia?” He knew very well that Genevieve hadn’t forgotten the girl who had played an instrumental role in getting Therese arrested. “She’s my wife now…” He let the news sink in before continuing. “When I couldn’t be with you, I took what was on offer… conjugal visits and all, you know?” His delight in Genevieve’s astonishment was evident. “She is a fast learner, too. Just like you were... And she’s been my eyes and ears outside the pen.”

Genevieve poured herself a straight vodka. The simplicity of an unassuming yet potent drink might just be the thing she needed to unclutter her frayed mind. It also bought her much needed time to come up with a solid answer that wouldn’t sound like an outright lie.

Ray, however, wasn’t going to wait for her explanation. “When I gave Therese to you, I fully expected to profit…”

Genevieve raised her eyes from her glass, infuriated by what she’d just heard. “When you gave Therese to me..? she started, unable to hide her anger. “I took her in and gave her a second chance, no thanks to you!”

Ray’s attitude took a nasty turn. “I tipped you off, knowing you’d latch greedily on a juicy find, and you’ve been feeding off of your precious cat burglar ever since!” He threw the near-empty tumbler on the wall to prove a point he was certain she would get. “I just want what’s mine,” he continued, resuming his former calm. “And I will take her too - as interest.”  

Ray got up, bored by what he deemed an unnecessary rebellion. “Jimmy’s got a game waiting, and I feel like cleaning the guys out.” Before heading to the door, he approached Genevieve and drew her close - too close. “Don’t be like that... “ Ray whispered to her. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I? And I always will, even if I’m a married man,” he said, grinning.

Genevieve held her breath, hoping he would go and leave her in peace. She thought of her father and how badly he had treated her, and how she had been unable not to let the pattern repeat itself with Ray. “Go fuck yourself, Ray...” she mumbled back.

Her defiance only amused him. “I’ve always loved your gutsiness, dear sister…” His coarse laughter echoed in the hall long after the front door had closed behind him.