A Lethal Legacy by P. C. Zick Page A

than I had ever shared with anyone
else, except Gary. I needed to steer the conversation to lighter material.
    "So do you have
an interest in anything?" I asked.
    "Nope, not me,
Eddie, boy," she said.
    "Kristina, you
know you're smart and attractive; you've got the whole world before you, don't
blow it," I said.
    "No, I'd rather
blow you," she said. "I've never forgotten that kiss."
    I hadn't forgotten it
either or the sight of her naked as she stood in Gary's apartment. I ended the
conversation shortly after that. It shocked me that she would reduce our
conversation to a cheap sexual innuendo. I hung up the phone angry, frustrated,
and incredibly aroused.
    "That's not
yours," he screamed as she picked up the watch on the table and dropped it
into her purse. She looked at him with wide eyes and snapped her purse shut
before walking out the door, leaving the impression that she had every right to
take what was not hers. And he was powerless to stop her.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
    During my infrequent
contacts with Gary over the next two years, Kristina's name never popped up
much except when he became worried over something she had or hadn't done.
During the summer of 1988, they came to Florida for a visit.
    Gary and I didn't
have much time alone because of the relatives' demand on both Kristina and
Gary's time. Gary looked gaunt and tired. When someone asked him about his
health, he said little, if anything at all. Gary was the expert on avoiding the
unpleasant. Because he still managed to do all the family things, I wrote it
off to job stress or maybe even a problem with Rick who had become Gary's most
serious partner so far.
    Kristina seemed
worried, too, although we only talked about it one time. I tried to avoid being
alone with her as much as possible. I didn't trust my emotions in her presence.
Just looking at her sometimes aroused such feelings of passion that I could
barely keep my hands at my sides. Those were the moments when I usually escaped
back to my apartment in Gainesville. I felt much safer that way.
    "Do you think
Gary looks all right?" she asked one afternoon as we sat on the porch at
Claire and Philip's.
    "He seems tired.
What do you think?
    "It's weird. He
won't talk about it, but I know something is wrong. He coughs a lot, too. He
does seem better here, but I think he's trying real hard in front of his
parents."
    "That's Gary. He
would never admit to even having a cold when we were kids. That's probably all
it is, but when you two get back to New Orleans, make a big deal about his
going to a doctor. He'll listen to you, Kristina."
    She promised she
would watch over him and keep me posted, but
    when Gary didn't come
home for the holidays in 1988, I became more worried. I called him on New
Year's Day. He called to wish me a Merry Christmas.
    "Happy New Year,
Gar," I said when he answered the phone.
    "Hey, Cuz,"
came the weak reply.
    "What's
wrong?"
    "Just getting
over the flu. It's a rough one this year, but I'll be all right. How're you
doing?"
    "I had dinner
with your folks tonight. Your dad is still trying to get me to move to Ocala.
Now Aunt Susan's started putting on the pressure, too."
    "Well?"
    "I'm thinking
about it. I'd like to be closer to Mom. You saw her when you were here. She's
not doing so well, although I thought she'd be happier in Florida after my dad
died. I'm not sure how much longer Susan can live alone with her in the
apartment. I guess, temporarily, I'd move in with them. Besides I can write
anywhere."
    "Who could ask
for more? What are you working on now?"
    "I'm fooling
around with a few ideas. I just sold an article to a local travel magazine, but
I'm still waiting for the muse to move me on the next novel."
    "You'll find
something, buddy. I know Mom and Dad would enjoy having you closer to them.
Sometimes I think they'd rather have you as a son. At least you don't
disappoint them all the time." He sounded dejected.
    "Gary, what's
wrong?" I was very concerned now. He never felt sorry for