Re: carriage house - michael and atticus
Attractive. Yes, Clem was that. More than that, she was harsh and intense and vivacious. He was...what, convenient? He couldn't blame her for that. It was made clear from the start that she'd be married or he'd get nothing. It wasn't her fault he tricked himself into believing the agreement was more than transactional. "She was something else," he said. And now she was dead, because of him. True or not, that was going to be a hard one to shake.
"No," he said, heavily. No, Clem hadn't been trying to kill him. He'd been so angry with her when he first came back. It was hard for him to connect with that feeling, now, six months on, Clem gone. He should have taken advantage of the chance he had to apologize, and now that was gone too.
He glanced up at Atticus, and he didn't look particularly his age. Ten years, most of it spent in work. Maybe everybody felt like there were parts of them that didn't grow up, still lonely and teenaged. That had to be some kind of pathetic, though. Clem was just human. "Yeah."
Reece? God, and where was Reece, anyway? He was going to start asking questions about Reece, and fuck it if people got uncomfortable and Tethys put him on its shitlist. He might be able to worm his way in somewhere with his clearance, if he played his cards right. He wasn't going to let anyone else drop off the face of the earth.
He looked at Atticus, listened to him sigh, and felt sorry. The man had enough worries without this mess dumped into his lap. "I don't want his money," he said, and his voice cracked.
Identifying Clem wasn't a simple proposition. How could he identify the body without being named as the man in the room with her? They'd charge him with murder in a heartbeat. One eyewitness who saw him roll into town with Clem, that was all it would take. But he owed her that. He owed her a chance at peace. "I'll figure something out."
It was his habit to make a joke right about now, say something to lighten the mood. He picked the beer up, drained what was left, and set it aside. He knew that he should get up and leave, Atticus didn't need his bullshit. But going home? Being on his own with Clem and her broken neck? "You can turn the music back on," he said, turning to look at the boombox. He hadn't noticed it was off until now. "Don't turn anything off on my account. "