Family Skeletons Page 15

  “Where were you, Tom?” she asked.

  He gave her a sharp look and so did Jonathan. Then, gaze steady, Tom relaxed. “Mavis told me she’d talked to you. That’s another thing I like about you, Sunny. You don’t pull your punches.”

  Jonathan’s gaze remained fixed on Sunny. He now appeared annoyed as well as puzzled.

  “That’s why I expect to be relieved,” Tom continued. “Mavis and I will be joining you and Roberta on the list of suspects. Ol’ Franklin is affecting people’s lives as much in death as he did when alive. Is there no limit to the man’s...” He rubbed his hand down his face without completing the sentence.

  Jonathan directed his attention from Sunny to Tom. “You must have compared our prints to those on the bloody bat. Have you checked any other prints?”

  “Not yet.” He hesitated. “It’s sticky. I agree with you that the bloody bat ties in. I just don’t know how it ties in. But nothing ties it to Franklin, other than that it was found in his attic. I don’t want to force it, but I will be asking Roberta for her prints. And then she can at least clear herself of the bat, same as Sunny did.”

  Sunny asked, “May I talk to her first? I don’t want the news about Franklin coming from anyone else.”

  Fatigue lined the deputy sheriff’s face as he looked at her. “Go see her tomorrow. I can wait that long, but no longer. Now that I’ve finally been given the go-ahead, they’re gonna want me to move on it.”

  He stood but didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. He smiled wryly. “I give you fair warning. Next time I’m out here, I’ll want that beer. And I’ll want to sit on the back porch and stare at the ocean. And I’ll want to talk about something else besides Franklin Corday and bloody bats and skeletons on the beach.”

  After seeing Tom out, Jonathan returned to stand in the doorway. He glared at Sunny. “Why are you so damned stingy with information?”

  She jerked her head up. Did he just swear at you?

  “Now I know how Ryan felt,” he said, words clipped. “If I don’t know what’s going on—”

  “Hey, wait a minute. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time and I don’t need—”

  A sharp wave of his hand cut off her speech. “It’s not just you that is dealing with this house and the people around here. If you’re withholding information, I could get blind-sided, and that wouldn’t be good for either one of us.”

  Again she opened her mouth, and he held up the same hand to silence her. “You bared your soul to me the other day regarding your past, but evidently there’s a lot going on right now that you’re holding back from me—deliberately or not. What did you mean when you asked Tom where he was when Franklin was killed? And why is he being relieved from duty? And why would he and Mavis make the list of suspects? And is there anything else I should know that I don’t even know I don’t know?”

  Cool it, Sunny. Maybe he’s got a point. She settled back, looked at the small kitten sleeping peacefully in the huge chair. He’s definitely got a point.

  Okay. She breathed in, felt her brow furrow as she gathered her thoughts. Then she clasped her hands in her lap, gave Jonathan a direct look, drew in another breath and started talking. She took her time, careful to leave nothing out as she reiterated Mavis’s confession, Bev’s alleged involvement with Franklin, Matthew’s visit, and her conversation with Langley Bowers. As she brought up each point, surprise mounted at how much there was. No wonder Jonathan was on the pissed side. Although that wouldn’t be the word he’d use. Or, maybe, considering the look on his face, that was exactly the way he’d put it.

  Halfway through her narration, appearing both spellbound and irritated, he came all the way into the room and sat down. When she finished, he looked more displeased than he had when she’d started. He said dryly, “I guess I should be grateful I was in the same room with you when you found the bat, or I wouldn’t have known about that either.”

  She frowned, wondering how valid that comment was.

  He asked, “Are you always this...”

  “Damned stingy? I didn’t think I was. I never thought about it.”

  “You’re just used to taking care of yourself.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Without breaking eye contact, he sat back. His expression held exasperation that bordered on anger, but he wasn’t exactly challenging her. She stared back, not backing down, but not challenging him either.

  “Promise me one thing,” he said, voice sounding measured. “If that drunk ever shows up again and you’re on your own, instead of relying upon an empty soda can to defend yourself with, will you please very quickly put a locked door between yourself and him?”

  That was too sensible for her to argue with. “Okay,” she said guardedly.

  “And if something else comes up, will you tell me about it when it comes up?”

  “Uh, all right.”

  “And one more thing. If you want to go see your mother tomorrow, I want to go with you. I’d like to meet her.”

  Because he’d dropped the subject of her secretiveness—which hadn’t been deliberate, but that was what it was—without allowing it to become a contentious issue, Sunny felt disconcerted. He’d again proven he was by far easier to get along with than she was.

  “Sure,” she said a little sheepishly. “She wants to meet you, too.”

  * * *

  “There,” Sunny said, pointing, and Jonathan slowed the SUV to turn into the driveway of the gated community.

  “Corday for Corday,” he told the security guard. The man checked his list then waved them through. Conventional townhouses, close to identical, lined the streets that the SUV coasted along at five miles per hour.

  “She likes it here,” Sunny said, “but I couldn’t stand it. Everything the same color, size, shape. Originality isn’t allowed.”

  “It’s the speed bumps that get to me. We could walk faster. My folks live in a community like this one. They like it, too. Security, little maintenance. To each his own, as Ryan says.”

  Roberta opened her front door before they got to it. Her hair and attire were, as usual, immaculate. Rather than making her appear older, the gray in her hair enhanced her natural light-brown color, and she’d smoothed it back into a French roll. She wore a pants suit, in camel and gold, and open-toed shoes with the high, blocked heel that Sunny hated, but on her mother they looked good.

  Sunny hugged her mom and got the wind squeezed out of her in return. Roberta always made her feel like a little girl coming back home again. Then her mother held her at arms’ length. “Something’s different about you,” the older woman said with a small frown. “What is it?”

  Sunny met her mother’s eyes straight on. You cannot tell, simply by looking at me, that I am engaged in a sexual affair. That...is...not... possible.

  Roberta wrapped her left arm around her daughter’s shoulders and then extended her right hand to Jonathan. “And you’re Jonathan Corday. Half-owner of Corday Cove, and the man who must be responsible for that healthy glow in my daughter’s cheeks.”

  Oh, gee whiz.

  Jonathan didn’t seem to know if he wanted to laugh, be uncomfortable, or pretend to misunderstand. He settled for returning her smile. “Hello, Mrs. Corday. I’m glad to meet you.”

  “Roberta,” she corrected, then tilted her head. “Tell me, Jonathan, have you ever wondered why the little short ones like her like flats, and the tall ones like me prefer heels?” Her eyes were almost on a level with his. Sunny now felt even more like a little kid.

  “No, I can’t say I’ve ever given that much thought.”

  “Well, come on in. We can talk about that and other things as they come up.”

  She motioned them toward the sofa. “I don’t know if Sunny told you, but I’m not a drinker and neither do I like carbonated soda. But I have nothing against caffeine. You’ve got your choice of hot coffee, iced tea, or any kind of fruit juice I’ve got, and I’ve got quite a variety.”

  “Iced tea with sugar would be good
.”

  “Sugar?”

  “Mom, give him iced tea with sugar and be quiet, please?”

  Roberta grinned. “Someone sounds out of sorts.” She glanced back at Jonathan. “I’ll dump a packet of artificial sweetener in your glass. Will that do?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She exited the room in a brisk stride.

  “Sometimes she comes on kind of strong,” Sunny murmured. “Just humor her.”

  Evidently there was nothing wrong with Roberta’s hearing. Her voice rang out from the kitchen. “Somebody is definitely out of sorts. I must’ve been right on target with that crack about a healthy glow.”

  Out of deference to Jonathan, Sunny clamped her mouth closed to keep the swear word from getting out. She put her elbow on the arm of the couch, rested her chin on her fist and glared at the wall. Out of consideration for herself, she refused to look at Jonathan because she suspected that he and her mother already liked each other, but somehow that circumstance seemed to come at her—Sunny’s—expense.

  Roberta reappeared bearing a tray with the iced tea and what looked like glasses of cranberry juice for herself and Sunny. She served her guests, then sat in the armchair placed diagonally next to the sofa. She was close enough to her daughter to touch her, and she did, briefly covering her hand with hers.

  Then she sat back, picked up her glass and sipped from it. “The skeleton was Franklin’s, wasn’t it.” There was no question mark in her voice. “That’s what you came to tell me.”

  Instantly, Sunny’s pique disappeared. “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s best to have an end to it.” Roberta’s expression and voice were level. “It might have been worse if it hadn’t been his.” She waited a beat, then asked, “How did he die?”

  There was no easy way to say it. “There was a dent in the back of the skull.”

  “Accidental?” The word, and her mother’s voice, had a hopeful edge to it.

  But there was still no subtle way to put it. “No. Blunt instrument. Hard enough to kill.”

  Without looking at Jonathan, Sunny was aware of the pointed look he gave her. But she’d already decided her mother should be told the truth. All of it. “And there’s more. When we were cleaning out the attic, we found a bloody bat—”

  At the look on her mother’s face, she stopped. “No, Mom, no. It wasn’t his blood type, and neither were his fingerprints on it. But so far that’s all anyone knows about the bat.”

  Roberta gave her a quick nod. “Okay. Go on.”

  “One day when Jonathan and I were on the beach, we—I, I mean—I was hit by a stray bullet. It creased my forehead.”

  “Well.” Roberta’s eyes didn’t stray. “Really. Okay. Anything else?”

  “Yes. I didn’t fall off the cliff. I was pushed.”

  Roberta held her gaze for a long moment. Then she looked at the arrangement of artificial roses on the stand near the front door. Her throat worked as she swallowed. “It’s times like this that make me wish I hadn’t quit smoking.” Then her eyes, again calm and steady, returned to her daughter. “But there’s yet more, I can tell.”

  Sunny drew in a breath, blew it out. “Apparently, Franklin, was, uh...”

  “A womanizer?”

  “You knew?”

  “Oh, yes. I knew. That was how he and I met. He and Bev Wilkes, who was Bev Hayes at the time, were going together. And probably would’ve been married if he hadn’t cheated on her with me.”

  Then she looked away from what she saw on her daughter’s face. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I’m not proud of that and I wish I didn’t have to tell you. But it appears you’ll hear it eventually, and I prefer you hear it from me.”

  That’s exactly what Mavis said.

  Roberta studied her glass of juice. “Your father was very charming, very glib, and he zeroed in on a person’s vulnerabilities, weaknesses, wants, with...with such precision it was almost uncanny. It was a special skill he had, and he used it without conscience. He exploited everybody he met. I loved him once, truly I did, but by the time we were divorced there was no love left.”

  Sunny winced with memory and guilt. “I was always so...full of myself, my own hurt and anger, that I never thought much about you. You had to have been carrying quite a load back then.”

  The look of reminiscence that spread across Roberta’s face didn’t indicate pleasant memories. “It was tough at times, but I got through it.” She drained her glass as if it had something more bracing in it than cranberry juice. “All the relationships will come out in a murder investigation anyway. Now that I’ve started, perhaps I should just give it all to you.”

  Sunny studied the scalloped gold carpet. She wasn’t comfortable hearing about the misconduct of the previous generation, and she felt even more awkward with her mother’s candor than she had with Mavis’s. But both women were probably correct that eventually it all would be aired and that it would be easier coming from them first.

  Roberta folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them instead of at her guests. She spoke in a level, unemotional voice. “I fell in love with Franklin, blindly, fully, and fast. And I continued to love him even when I realized I was no more than a romantic interlude to him. He married me on the rebound from Bev, who had of course married Howard Wilkes on the rebound from Franklin. What an intricate and unhappy mess we made of our lives, all four of us. Their marriage was no happier than ours.”

  She looked at her daughter, and her expression hardened. “But whatever we adults did with our lives, nothing excuses what he did to you. That was unconscionable.”

  Sunny looked at her hands. She’d never had the courage to give voice to the question that sprang to mind, and because she’d never asked, the disquiet had remained throughout the years. “Why did he do that, try to disown me?” She sounded like the child she once had been. “Did he really not trust you, or was it because...because of me, something about me?”

  “No, Sunny. No.” Roberta’s voice sharpened, and it seemed her daughter’s pain crossed her own face. “It was not because of you. Get that thought right out of your mind. In fact, it was he who gave you your nickname, honey. He said the color of your hair reminded him of a ray of sunshine, and that your smile was as warm as the sun itself. And you should also know this. I’m not attempting to defend him, understand, but he’d suffered mumps in his teens and he truly thought he was sterile. He’d told me before we married that he’d not be able to give me a child. But he’d accepted the pregnancy, and didn’t even contest child support, not at first, and then a year after the divorce he dropped that bombshell. I doubt if we’ll ever know why.”

  “Who suggested the divorce?” Jonathan asked, voice as straightforward as Roberta’s.

  “He did,” she answered, “but I agreed immediately. In truth, I was relieved. I’d fallen out of love by then and wanted more out of life. There had to be more than what I shared with him.”

  Her eyes again found Sunny. “When he petitioned to cease child support on those grounds, I was floored. But then I got mad, fighting mad, and I petitioned right back. But proving paternity wasn’t enough, so I went all the way and got the injunction regarding Corday Cove. You deserved that much, but at the time I admit that it was spite guiding me. Then, as you grew up and I saw your pain, I realized I had to give up my hate, just as I’d given up my love. It was eating me up and doing the same thing to you. So I let go. I finally let it all go.”

  Age Sunny hadn’t seen before now lined her mother’s face. Then Roberta went on. “And you beat it, too. You turned yourself around. I’m proud of you, Sunny. You’ve got guts and strength, more than I think you’re aware of.”

  Her mother’s quiet and simple delivery lent weight to her words.

  Roberta went on. “You’re his closest kin. Will you claim his remains?”

  Oh. Well, who else was going to do it? Sunny nodded.

  “And I’ll help,” Roberta added. “Financially, and with making arrangements. You shouldn’t have to
do that by yourself.”

  Again Sunny nodded. But she wasn’t yet done with the past, and if she didn’t bring it up now, she feared she never would. And then one day, most likely sooner than later, it’d pop up and bite them all, even more painfully then than it would be now.

  “Uh, Mom...”

  “More transgressions? Okay, we need to bare it all before we can be done with it.”

  “Langley and Louise Bowers.” Sunny went for the easiest one first. “Do you know them?”

  “Not well, but I knew of them and guessed that she was involved with Franklin for a short while before she moved away. In that case, however, he may have unintentionally done a good deed. Louise needed courage to break away from Langley, and Franklin may have supplied her with that. I don’t condone infidelity, but marriage does not give one a license for abuse either.” Her expression grew hard; clearly she was recalling her daughter’s second marriage in which physical abuse had also existed.

  Then, as she watched Sunny, her face slowly cleared. “Why are you hesitating? You especially don’t like this next one. Is it Mavis?”

  Sunny felt her eyes grow wide. “You knew?”

  Roberta closed her eyes. “I do now.”

  The older woman shook her head. She appeared more impatient than hurt. “Oh, Mavis, you stupid, stupid fool.” She blew her breath out in a soft sigh. “I even know when it happened. When you were in the clinic, Sunny, Tom and Mavis were having a rough time. Tom’s parents were splitting and it was tearing him apart. He was bound and determined to save that marriage, and his own marriage was taking a hit because of it. And somewhere around that time I noticed that Mavis wasn’t able to look me straight in the eye. She would look everywhere but at me, and I, well, I worried about her.”

  Sunny felt guilty again, remembering how self-absorbed she’d been at that time. She’d been so full of her own despair that she’d not had a thought for anyone else.

  Roberta looked tired; lines became even more prominent in her face. “I hoped I was misreading the signs, but for her sake, not mine. I felt no sense of betrayal. In fact, that was when I realized that I really had let it go.”