A sound caught Sugar’s ear even over the grind of the vacuum. She shut the machine down and followed the low moaning into the downstairs bathroom. She stood outside the cupboard with arms akimbo.
“You have to stop all that noise,” she demanded. “I may need to take drastic measures with you if you can’t be quiet.”
“Don’t you get it, lady?” mumbled the voice. “I’m sick. I know your old man isn’t home yet. Can’t you just let me out for two minutes? I need some air. I need some water. You want me to die in here?”
“If that’s what it takes, I might just go there.”
Inside his prison, Bertie unleashed a high-pitched giggle. “Don’t try to fool yourself, woman. If you had it in you, you would have done it already. If it was me, I would have taken a steak knife and finished it. I’d tell the cops it was self-defense. With a loser like me, there’d be no problem getting them to believe it.”
“That would be messy. My husband would punish me.”
“Fine. There’s less messy ways to kill a person off. Make me drink bleach or something.”
“You want me to kill you?”
“At this point, it’d be a relief. I feel half-dead already. If you don’t get me anyway, Wycliff will eventually.”
“Who’s Wycliff?”
“A bad, bad man. He makes your husband look like the Dalai Lama.”
Sugar opened the cupboard. “This Wycliff,” she said. “If he knows you’re here, what would he do to me?”
“I suppose he’d punish you but then you’re used to that. Might punish your husband instead. That’s kind of tempting, isn’t it? Let me out of here and maybe we can make a deal.”
Sugar stepped back and then gestured to the room.
Bertie groaned. “I need help to get out of this spot.”
Sugar bent and leaned in against Bertie. His sour breath made her reel. She gasped and put her arm around him.
“Hey,” he mumbled into her neck. “You’re kind of pretty.”
“Remember, I’m just helping you because it’s the decent thing to do. There’s no other reason.”
They staggered to their feet together, Bertie leaning in on her.
“Yeah?” Bertie replied. “You should have seen your eyes when I mentioned the possibility of making your husband take the fall. You may think you’re being a good citizen but deep down inside there’s a demon waiting to crawl out.”
Sugar let Bertie slide to the floor. She sat on her haunches beside him and poked him. “If so,” she said. “Maybe you better be careful, Bertie. I don’t care for you and I bet the demon cares even less.”
