A Fine Mess

Chapter 20

Myles sat crumpled at his desk, a half filled glass of liquor clenched in one tight fist. The newspapers in front of him were soggy and smeared from the tears of remorse over his participation in their content. A photo of Barton and Brian in better times faced the bold headline reading: Partners End Empire in Boardroom Beating.

"Myles?" He snuffled aloud at the sound of his name and looked blearily toward the library door. God help him, Miriam was approaching with her tea tray.

"Oh my poor dear, you mustn't do this to yourself. Abatha made your favourite-"

"I don't want any bloody tea!" He sat up and tilted the contents of his glass into his mouth, snorting and coughing as it burned a path to his stomach.

"Myles, Myles..." She set the tray down and came around the desk, pulling his head to her stomach. One breast rested against his thinning hair and bobbed softly as she cooed and stroked his back. "There, there..."

"What am I going to do?" He wailed, muffled in the folds of her blouse.

"What a man in your position does, dear. You take charge. You stand up and take charge. You didn't do anything to cause this, it was between Brian and Barton."

He pulled back and looked at her through damp, red-rimmed eyes. Poor simple Miriam, he thought. Why couldn't he have had with her what he had with Moira? He shrugged a sigh and slumped back in his chair. Except look what he has with Moira now-a dead husband-from a plan they initiated. He knuckled his eyes and suddenly sat up with a start.

"What...?"

"Sshhh, let me make you feel better, dear."

He stared in disbelief as Miriam turned his swivel chair toward her. "No reason for you to think things are going wrong, Myles. You are a take charge man," she said, taking charge.

The tray of cookies and tea sat on the corner of his desk untouched. Myles stared vacantly at the garden outside his window, his mind unable to process what had just happened. The strange thing was, he felt stronger, more determined and ready to grab the new developments by the balls and show Moira, Miriam and the world that Myles Forbin was indeed the man in charge. He reached for the phone and dialed, nodding his head as he rehearsed his opening.

Miriam smiled and tiptoed away from the library door, humming her way to the downstairs washroom where she thoroughly washed her hands and face, admiring the shrewd person smiling back from the mirror.

•••

Moira sat with her head bent into a hand full of tissue, elbows on closed knees, as she listened to the Police Detective officially inform her of her husband's death. What Moira still found hard to accept was the fact that Brian had actually killed Barton. The news, however, wasn't as upsetting as she thought it should be. At first she felt that the game was up, that they couldn't possibly continue with the fraud leaving an innocent man to take the blame.

She had been petrified that he would fall apart and the whole plan would come out and that she would be accused as an accessory. But after the phone call from Myles she felt relief beyond belief. She was now freer than ever and the plan had exceeded their wildest dreams. Barton was gone and Brian was in jail and the stock automatically reverted to the company, which Moira now controlled as the major shareholder.

The charcoal grey and black outfit she'd selected for the interview with the police drew the appropriate admiration from the detective when he first arrived; she could read the appraisal in his face and complimented herself on an excellent choice. She concentrated as hard as she could to produce tears and when she finally succeeded, she snuffled a few times and sagged back, wiping her eyes and gazing forlornly up at the sympathetic face of the detective. Moira had listened with appropriate measures of shock and disbelief as the detective revealed the news of her husband's death, expanding her dramatic experience as the suddenly bereaved wife.