The Excruciator
an excerpt

CHAPTER ONE
Suzanne Gottschalk Haston Whitmore was a cold, calculating bitch. If appearances are deceiving, Suzanne’s surely is. A cute, cuddly, bunny face, delicate ash blonde hair and slate blue eyes hide a dark, sinister woman. Her voice is deliberately debutante whispery. While she cuts an unremarkable figure for her taller-than-average height, her Teutonic bone structure reveals, beneath that coyly placid exterior, the classic heritage of centuries of German determination and drive.
Donal Whitmore lay in his make-shift hospital bed barely perceiving her presence. For convenience, a hospital bed was rented from “MedCare”, a local medical supply store and placed in the center of the stylish recreation room. He was gravely, terminally ill. He just didn’t know it.
From the day they’d met, Suzanne was an ace at instilling false hope in a man whose emotional baggage was already enormous. She was expert at the game of “hopefully”. She punctuated every sentence with that word in a tone of voice the Pope would believe. Donal, therefore, placed full faith and trust in all she said and did.
Suzanne never missed an opportunity when it came to calculation and planning of outcomes, events or the future. It was part of her regular heartbeat. She neither inhaled nor exhaled unless she had full mental control. “Donal, how are you feeling today?”, she asked.
How could a man feel who is dying? How would he feel if he knew that she’d known he was dying for more than two years? Nothing in the Whitmore household was ever without Suzanne’s oversight. But, Donal’s cancer was more than just an illness to her. It was a matter of her future. She had one. He didn’t.
“I’m...I....”, Donal’s voice trailed off. He’d been a big, brawny six-footer before illness shrunk him to less than half his original size. His breathing labored while his lungs barely functioned. He was catheterized. Most of his bodily functions had slowly shut down—too slowly for Suzanne’s convenience.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her standing near his bed. The look in her eyes told him she was counting the hours until it was over for him. “Donal, you need to take your medication.”, she said maternally and officiously.
This was the woman for whom he’d abandoned his wife, Desiree and two children, Jack and Anthony. This was the woman he’d told Desiree he didn’t really want to marry. The woman who had caused the great divide between himself and his sons.
He felt certain she’d tricked him. For more years than he ever realized. It was too late. He knew now he was dying. There wouldn’t be time to put things in order or reverse the damage he was sure Suzanne would inflict on his sons. His greatest fear was what Desiree would do in defense of Jack and Anthony. Desiree was not a violent woman. But, if there was one thing, in Desiree’s mind, no one should ever do it was hurt Jack and Anthony. Do that and Donal knew Desiree would stop at nothing to get even.
Odd, he thought to himself as life began slipping quickly, all of the things he’d never paid attention to before seemed to be rearranging in a pattern of clarity he never felt. Was this really how life ended? Just drifting off into eternity without having a chance to put things right?
Suzanne enlisted the help of his younger sibling, Roger, and Roger’s wife Dana because Suzanne couldn’t deal with illness and the less glamorous procedures like turning Donal so he wouldn’t have bedsores, changing his IV bottles or replacing the bag into which his fluids slipped slowly out of his emaciated body.
Suzanne took the trouble to insure that he wasn’t kept alive longer than necessary and signed the “DNR” — “Do Not Resusitate” forms right in front of Donal. Perhaps, that was the moment he realized the last ten years of his marriage had been a sham. How could I have been so ignorant?, he thought in the haze between life and death. How could I not have seen how well she planned everything?
In his last moment of anger, he swore an oath that no matter where he spent eternity, he would exact his revenge. Desiree had always told him no one should die with anger in their heart lest they spend an eternity without rest or peace. Desiree—Where can she be? He glanced up momentarily and saw the face of his son Jack, large dark eyes alive with life, so like his mother’s. He saw in Jack’s eyes the pain and the sorrow.
Donal wanted to scream out to Jack to bring Desiree before it was too late. Only garbled words came from his lips. There wasn’t much time left.
Desiree was the only one he could really trust to put things right. But, he knew she’d do the respectful thing. She’d never set foot in this house. It was Suzanne’s territory.
Desiree was always trying to do the right thing. He silently prayed she’d do the right thing this time and sense he needed to see her. He held off for as long as he could. He knew from the look of hopelessness in Jack’s eyes as he sat beside his dying father’s bed that death was certain. Where was Anthony? Perhaps, Desiree would bring Anthony. Then, he could tell her what he wished her to do.
Long into the late morning that warm, sunny November day, Donal barely clung to life. He hovered between consciousness and that place people go when life slips away. When he did open his eyes again, he saw the face of his youngest child. But, not Desiree. “Anthony!”, Donal said trying to get a grip on his consciousness. His tone was the same as when Anthony was a small child. Anthony sensed his father was straining to speak to him and Jack. There was something he wanted to say. Anthony stood closer to his father’s death bed.
Anthony reached down to kiss his father on the cheek, affection he learned from Desiree that Donal rejected when they were married. “Anthony, don’t.” Suzanne said. “Your father is in a great deal of pain.”, she continued. Anthony gave her a measured look, bristling at her cold tone. He wanted to scream at her, “My father’s dying. I’m his son. Don’t tell me what to do.” He knew it wasn’t the time or place. But, he also knew the day would come when Suzanne wouldn’t be able to avoid the confrontation with the Whitmore brothers.
Suzanne caught the darts from Anthony’s deep, dark brown eyes. Just like his mother, she thought. Jack stood silently by his brother’s side. He gently nudged his brother’s arm hoping Anthony would maintain decorum under the circumstances. Jack knew his brother’s temper. Not violent like their father. But, nearly as lightening quick.
Only Donal knew why she didn’t want Anthony to get too close. She feared he’d whisper into Anthony’s ear the things she didn’t want anyone to know. Anyone, that is, but her two daughters, Carron and Moira. Those two knew everything. Suzanne saw to that. The three of them were like an “unholy trio”they managed to conceal completely from everyone.
Anthony obeyed Suzanne’s wishes and retreated to a nearby chair. The two young men sat watching their father take his last breath, disappointed that Desiree would not be with them as he slowly drifted into the bright white light. They understood why. It was still no less difficult.
Desiree felt guilty as she always would. The phone rang. It was Donal’s sister, Andrea. “Desiree, please come and see Donal before it’s too late.”, she said. “I don’t think I can do this. It’s just too awkward to be in his and Suzanne’s home.”, Desiree answered. “He wants you there. I know he does.”, Andrea continued. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll go.”, she said with a gnawing pain in her stomach.
She dressed, dashed into her car and drove the twenty miles to Donal’s house, Suzanne be damned! I’ll do it for my sons, if for no one else.
When she arrived, she knew from the look in Jack’s and Anthony’s eyes that Donal was dead. In less than the forty-five minutes it took Desiree to drive there, Suzanne already had Donal’s body removed to the mortuary.
“I guess I’ll go and deposit this check.”, Carron said deliberately waving the check in front of Desiree’s face. Carron is as sinister as her old lady, Desiree thought. A man dies and a half hour later all these three women can think to do is run to the bank and make a deposit?
Suzanne couldn’t bear the sight of Desiree, now with her two sons at her side like loyal sentries. She despised everything about Desiree, particularly her ability to make people love her, Donal included. “I’m going to take a pill and go upstairs and have a nap.”, Suzanne said.
Desiree, Jack and Anthony stood in the dining room in the awkward way she’d imagined the scene would be. “I didn’t have a chance to see your father before he died.”, she told her sons. “Let’s go to the mortuary and see him there one last time.”