Family Skeletons Page 7

  He removed the sheet he’d just replaced. “Look. The cabinet doors open all right. Kind of squeaky, and it needs cleaning. But it’s quite a find.”

  “Yeah.” She reached to touch it, then quickly drew her hand back, thinking about oil from her fingers. “Mavis knows some people who deal in antiques. We could talk to them about it. I doubt that even Roberta knew this was up here.”

  “Well, it’s been here long enough it can stay a little longer. I doubt you and I could get it down by ourselves without damaging it.”

  The dim, cramped room was growing heavy with the layers of dust they’d disturbed, and it was getting hard to breathe. “Let’s call it quits,” she suggested. “And work on sorting what we’ve got. We can get back up here tomorrow.”

  He clearly wanted to keep going. But she figured they had enough to keep them busy for the rest of the day, so she bribed him with tomato sandwiches for lunch. She’d discovered he loved tomato and onion sandwiches slathered in mayonnaise and covered with salt and pepper. She’d refrained from inquiring why it was okay to mix onions with tomatoes when it wasn’t okay to mix them with breakfast potatoes.

  After lunch, they carried the stuff in the upstairs hall down to the utility room off the kitchen and sorted it there. Though Jonathan seemed to quickly grow bored, he didn’t grumble, and he stuck with the job.

  She was also on the bored side. Kneeling on the floor, she blew a breath out with a weary, resigned sigh, pushed the steamer trunk she’d just emptied away, and reached behind her for the duffel bag. It was light, but something clattered when it hit the floor. She unzipped the bag. It held one item, an ordinary baseball bat. She was beyond wondering why anything had been saved. Then she looked closer, and recoiled.

  “Uh, Jonathan, that’s...is that...”

  He looked up from a box of old shoes. “Is what?”

  “Blood,” she said, staring at the bat. “It’s got blood on it.”

  He came over and knelt next to her. “Blood and hair,” he said, voice subdued.

  * * *

  Tom Fairly looked at the bat, still residing within the duffel bag, for a long time.

  “Well,” he said. “The lab will tell us for sure, but I’m gonna be one surprised citizen with a badge if that isn’t human blood and hair.” He looked at the two citizens who’d brought in the bag. “You didn’t touch it?”

  “Not the bat,” Sunny said. “But both Jonathan and I handled the bag and its grip.”

  “But neither of your prints should be on the weapon itself.”

  She shuddered. Weapon. That’s exactly what it was. And that was the purpose of the bat she had under her bed as well. Defensive, but still a weapon. She nodded to Tom, paused, then shook her head, confused as to which response was correct. He hadn’t actually asked a question.

  “That’s right,” Jonathan said. “Our prints are not on the bat.”

  “Let’s hope someone’s are.” Tom gave Sunny a look that held concern.

  “I know,” she said. “The blood and tissue type may be the same as Franklin’s.” Then she got a thought that made her narrow her eyes. “Do you have a blood type, anything, for him?”

  The deputy sheriff gave her an absent nod as his attention returned to the satchel and its contents. “Should be a record from his stint in the army.”

  “Army?” she echoed, surprised.

  He looked back at her. “Yeah. He got caught in the draft just a year or so before it ended if I remember right, but he got a medical waiver. Meniere’s.” He waggled fingers near his right ear. “Something to do with balance, the inner ear, something. Didn’t bother him much, but it was enough to keep him out of the military. Both his prints and blood type should be on file.”

  Sunny nodded, vaguely recalling the information now that he’d mentioned it. She asked, looking at the bat, “If the lab does find prints, you’ll want to check them against mine, I suppose, so you might as well take them now.”

  Jonathan appeared surprised and puzzled. Then his face cleared. “And mine, I guess. I haven’t had access to the house as long as she has, but you’ve got to cover all the bases.”

  Tom nodded. “Yep. Should.” He motioned them toward a narrow counter beneath a wall cabinet. He took a box from the cabinet, along with a thick set of paper with labeled boxes and instructions in large print, and added a packet of moist wipes. “Think Roberta will also volunteer hers?”

  That was a touchy question that Tom managed to ask inoffensively and professionally, Sunny noted.

  “If the blood and tissue matches Franklin’s,” Sunny said, “prints of family members will be required, not requested. So she might as well get it over with.” She allowed him to take her hand and firmly press each finger into the inky pad and then onto squares on the paper.

  “One more thing,” Tom said when he finished with her other hand. He handed her a moist disposable towelette. “I’d appreciate the two of you staying out of that attic until I can get out there and look around.”

  “Sure,” Jonathan said as he exchanged places with Sunny. “I’d expected that.”

  “Tom,” Sunny asked, backing away as she worked on cleaning her hands, “could you do that as soon as possible? Check the attic, I mean. If there’s a body up there, I...”

  “I understand,” he said without looking at her, his attention on the task at hand. “I’ll follow you out there as soon as I get that bag of evidence over there documented.”

  When Sunny and Jonathan stepped outside, the sun glared at them as if it thought it were still August instead of close to the end of September. Though her hands appeared clean, her fingers felt like they carried residue. Whether it was from the towelette, ink, or her imagination, she wasn’t sure.

  Turning away from the sun’s glare, she spoke to Jonathan as she looked along the sidewalk. “I don’t want to go back with you. I’ll walk home along the beach.” She didn’t think she could face what else might be in that attic. Not right now.

  “Sure,” he said, as if reading her mood and responding to it. Then he added, earning even more intuitive points, “Take your time. I don’t know how long we’ll need.”

  She wandered the town, even remembered to check the diminutive library for tide times so she wouldn’t get surprised when hiking out to the cove. She considered calling her mother but didn’t want to give her the same stuck-in-limbo feeling she had, so decided to wait until she knew something. It’d be rougher on Roberta anyway. At one time, she’d actually loved the man.

  At a yogurt and ice cream place on the short pier she bought a strawberry ice cream cone. As she walked away from the service window, she spied Mavis inside at a table, so she backtracked and joined her.

  In greeting, Mavis said wryly, “Would you believe this is lunch?” Guiltily, she looked at the half-eaten dish of ice cream. “I love this place. They make the best banana split I ever had.”

  Sunny said nothing.

  As Mavis worked on her ice cream, she gave Sunny glances that ranged from casual to puzzled to concerned. Then when Mavis pushed the empty dish aside, she asked quietly, “What’s the matter?”

  Sunny explained today’s find.

  “I see,” Mavis said. The lines in her face deepened. “You thought—hoped—it was all behind you. Yet here it is again rearing up its ugly head. Franklin just won’t go away peacefully.”

  “Contrary to the end,” Sunny agreed wryly. “Do you know anything about the Bowers family? Langley and Louise?”

  The question seemed to surprise Mavis, but she answered readily. “Yes. Louise left him about, oh, maybe eight years ago. She remarried and is living in Arizona, I think. Her marriage with Langley wasn’t a good one. She wore a lot of bruises for a lot of years.”

  “Did she have an affair with Franklin?”

  “Oh, so that’s it. Yes, I think so. It wasn’t the first time for him, but it was the first time for her, and she wasn’t very good at covering up. In fact, I thought that was what had given her the courage to finall
y break away from Langley. Or it may have been what forced the break. He might’ve killed her once he found out.”

  “He found out. But maybe it wasn’t his wife he killed.”

  Mavis turned away. She stared out the window, but it didn’t appear she was looking at anything in particular. “What a can of worms this is going to open up,” she murmured. She had the appearance of one looking at something she didn’t want to see.

  Sunny assumed Mavis was grappling with memories, so she let the silence ride.

  “Yes.” The older woman sighed, and when she looked back her eyes held something akin to pain. “Franklin had a wandering eye, and it lit upon a lot of women between here and Castleton. Since he lived in Reno for much of the year, someone could’ve even followed him from there.”

  “Who else around here was he linked with?”

  “He was discreet.” Her gaze drifted away. “That was one of the few redeeming characteristics he had. Even after he and your mom split, he didn’t flaunt his affairs.”

  “Nevertheless, it seems the list of suspects will be a long one. My mom and I will be on it, right along with Langley Bowers and his ex-wife. And I wonder how many others.” Her half-eaten cone was melting and she’d lost her taste for it. She rose and deposited it in the trash receptacle at the door. “See you around, Mavis.”

  “Sunny, wait.”

  She looked back.

  Mavis massaged the bridge of her nose, disturbing the set of her brown-rimmed glasses. Then she straightened them and met Sunny’s gaze. Because Sunny knew her so well, she sensed the older woman’s discomfort.

  But when Mavis spoke, there was no waver in her eyes or voice. “If there’s going to be an investigation, which there’s bound to be, you’ll hear about this anyway. And I’d rather it came from me. I can add two more names to that list. One is Bev Wilkes. The other is mine.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sunny’s body jerked as if she’d been physically sucker punched.

  Then she found herself once more seated in the chair but couldn’t recall actually walking back and sitting down.

  Mavis jerked to her feet. “I need a cigarette.” She led the way outside, fumbling in her oversized shoulder bag. After coming up with a brightly-colored pack of cigarettes, she started rifling again.

  “Damned thing. Lighter’s always at the bottom.” Her speech rambled while her fingers searched. “Should have one of those cigarette purses, pouches, whatever you call it. Keep putting off buying one ’cause I’m gonna quit, but then I keep putting that off, too.”

  Once she found a pack of matches, she couldn’t get the match ignited. She seemed close to tears. Sunny took the pack and struck a match into life and held it to light the woman’s cigarette. Mavis took a deep drag, as if her life depended on how much of the carcinogenic substance she could get into her lungs. She held the smoke for a long moment before exhaling.

  Appearing calmer, she walked a short way onto the sand. She wore medium-heeled pumps, not the easiest shoes to roam around the beach in, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She took another drag, blew smoke out, and then faced Sunny.

  “Okay. Shoot. You’ve got questions and you deserve answers.”

  Sunny simply looked at her, then dropped down to sit on the sand. The action was appropriate to her jeans and sneakers, but Mavis wore a skirt and jacket combo in light-green linen. Her attire didn’t stop her from following suit, however.

  Near the water’s edge, a woman and young child were building castles in the damp sand. An older couple, possibly in their fifties, walked hand in hand. Further down the beach a man and a dog played with a Frisbee.

  Sunny remained quiet for a long moment, staring at the ocean but barely aware of it. She asked, “Did my mother know?”

  “I don’t know. I never told her and doubt that Franklin would have. It was after their divorce, a long time after. But that doesn’t excuse anything,” she added. She stubbed the cigarette out in the sand, put it in her cupped left hand and closed her fist over it. “It was the last time he was up here.”

  “How about Tom? Does he know?”

  Still looking at her closed fist, Mavis nodded. “I told him. I had to.” Her gaze moved to a trash receptacle sitting where the sand met the cement walk. She got up and walked over to discard the cigarette butt. Before returning, she slipped her shoes off to carry back, one in each hand. She sat down, leaning on her left hip, and her arm and hand supported her weight. Though she faced Sunny, she was looking beyond her. She didn’t appear to be looking at anything in particular, however, just staring into space.

  “It was a bad time,” Mavis said, speaking in a monotone. “I was at a really low point. I can’t explain it, even to myself, so I don’t expect anyone else to understand. Tom was...furious. And not just hurt. Injured. So much so that I wondered if I was only adding to the wrong by telling him. But I thought then, and still do, that hiding unfaithfulness only compounds it. I had to face up to it, be honest with him.”

  The Frisbee sailed by and careened away in an arc. The blond lab snagged it in the air and loped back to its master. Mavis watched with incurious eyes. She picked up a handful of sand, let it run through her fingers, and looked out over the water. “For a while it looked like I might lose Tom. But he accepted it. In time he even forgave me. I know what kind of man I’ve got. If I didn’t before, I learned then. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. It wasn’t exactly an affair. It was...” She stopped and looked down at the sand. “A one-night stand,” she finished in a near whisper.

  She picked up another handful and watched the grains dribble through her fingers, took in a long breath, let it out and then tonelessly went on. “Tom was out of town. Had been for a long time. He’d called that afternoon to tell me it would be at least another week, grew impatient with me when I got impatient with him. I went out to dinner alone, feeling sorry for myself, ran into Franklin, drank wine with him, walked the beach...”

  Suddenly, angrily, she made a fist and struck the sand. Grains spit out in an uneven, explosive design. “It happened, Sunny. I don’t excuse it, don’t expect anyone else to, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I can’t, really can’t.”

  She jerked up to her feet and walked away, angry regret and pain evident in every step she took. When she reached the sidewalk, she balanced on one foot and then the other as she slipped the shoes back on. She never turned to look behind her. Sunny watched her for as far as she could see her, then she worked her way upright and began the trek for home.

  It was nearing 4:00 p.m., and the relentless sun bore down on Sunny as she approached the old Victorian. No official vehicle was in sight, and the shade of the porch should have beckoned her, yet dread slowed her steps. When she entered the house, the bathroom door was open, and she heard a broom swishing across the floor. She stopped midway up the stairs and called Jonathan’s name.

  He came to the door, straw broom in hand. “Hi.”

  Her gaze moved to the stepladder in the alcove.

  “No,” he said. “No more grisly discoveries. You can rest easy.”

  She turned sideways to lean against the wall and drew in a relieved, easier breath. But there was more to come. It would be a long while before she or anyone else could write an end to the legacy of Franklin Corday. Unzipping that duffel bag had been like opening Pandora’s box.

  Jonathan stood still for a moment, watching her. Then he leaned the broom against the doorjamb and started to descend the stairs. She straightened to make room for him to pass, but he came to a stop with one foot resting on the stair lower than hers so that his head angled only slightly higher than hers. He put his knuckles beneath her chin to raise her face to his.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It really is okay.”

  “Oh,” she said, incapable in that moment of uttering any other word. The clear green eyes looking into hers were close to mesmerizing. His nearness, and the touch of his hand on her chin, chased everything else out of
her mind. Franklin, adulterous affairs, the attic and the bloody bat all wrapped together and floated away like a ball of dust in a breeze. “Oh,” she repeated.

  Leaning in, he brushed his mouth across hers. It wasn’t exactly a kiss, more like a sweet, friendly gesture. Just one set of lips barely touching the other, but it was incredibly sexy and arousing. When he pulled back, her eyes searched his. Had he been as moved as she?

  Tenderness and gentle concern were evident in his return gaze...and something else. Surprise. Yes, that was it, almost a mirror of what she was feeling. But was it pleasant surprise, or the kind that says hey, wait a minute. What’s going on here and how do I get out of it?

  She didn’t have a chance to figure it out before he cleared his expression. He repeated, again in a whisper, “It’s okay.” And then he climbed back up the stairs.

  She drew in a breath, not realizing till then that she’d forgotten to breathe. She wet her lips and tried to make her face relax. As Jonathan reached for the broom, he looked back down at her. In the instant that his eyes first met hers, she got the impression he was weighing something in his mind. Then again his expression smoothed out. The man would make an excellent poker player.

  With one hand placed over the other atop the broom, he rested his chin on his knuckles. “We opened every box and trunk, checked every conceivable hiding place, and the only thing Tom discovered up there was the exact allowable height in every corner.” His face creased into a smile. If Jonathan had been thrown by that kiss, he’d quickly recovered. “That man is a slow learner,” he went on. “He banged his head every time he moved. And his vocabulary has even more color than yours.”

  “So we wait for the results of the crime lab tests,” she said, and he nodded. Their conversation seemed to clear the air of the effect of the kiss. Almost. It had merely been a simple gesture of comfort which had taken each of them by surprise, she told herself. She pushed away from the wall.

  “Sunny?”

  She looked back.