“Well, there’s still Elzianne,” Joe said.
No one said anything in response. Joe Michael was right, though, there was still Elzianne.
Chapter Sixty-Three
OMG!
Dennis Connor assured them that the trial for Elzianne LaMonte was not likely to occur for at least six months, but since they had already received a confession—although no expression of remorse—from Elzianne, and had the testimony of Julia Bruce, her daughter, and several others who had peripheral knowledge of what was going on, including Mara, Sal, and others, there was little likelihood that she would escape conviction.
“We’ll need the formality of your testimony,” Dennis Connor said, “but nothing will happen anytime soon, I assure you.”
“But what about Julia Bruce?” Mara asked. “She’s dying.”
“We’ve taken a sworn affidavit via both written and video testimony,” he answered. “If she dies, it will definitely weaken the case from the perspective of her testimony, but I believe that the evidence against Elzianne is so overwhelming that we can still get a conviction even without the testimony of Julia Bruce.”
“I hate the thought of having to come back,” Sylvia LaMonte said after hearing Doug’s recounting of his conversation with their attorney, “but maybe we could work things so that the memorial to Monsignor St. Jean can be dedicated then, so we need to come back only once.”
“Yes, that would be ideal,” Doug agreed. “Anyway, that was pretty much the nuts and bolts of what I learned.”
Since there was little else to do, the four of them went into Rhinebeck, stopping at St. Aloysius to discuss a site for the memorial to Monsignor St. Jean.
Joe and Sal were inside the church hall talking with the custodian, when Mara and Doug walked in, followed by Sal’s retired NYSP friend, Lou, and two Rhinebeck police officers.
“There’s been a shooting,” Lou began. “At the hospital.”
Everyone stopped talking as Lou approached Sal.
“There are two—this is harder than I thought it—I’m sorry, Sylvia, but your sister, Elzianne, is dead.”
“My word,” Sylvia said, surprised that she felt any emotion at all.
“You said there were two victims?” Doug said, stepping forward.
“They’re waiting to notify next of kin, but it looks like the other victim is Julia Bruce,” Lou told them.
Mara sat down. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured.
“What happened?” Joe Michael said, approaching the officers and facing them directly.
“It’s pretty straightforward—and this has been corroborated by multiple witnesses,” Lou told them.
“Apparently, Julia Bruce came to visit Ms. LaMonte, claiming that she was her personal assistant,” Lou began. “I wasn’t on duty, but the officer that was apparently was convinced enough to let her in. He said that Ms. LaMonte even greeted Ms. Bruce and said something to the effect that it was about time she came back.”
Sal, Joe Michael, Doug, and Mara exchanged glances.
“According to the officer on duty,” Lou continued, “he had no reason to suspect anything about the visit. Ms. Bruce was dressed impeccably, carried an armful of papers, and behaved in a professional manner.”
“Apparently, seconds after setting the papers on the nightstand in front of Ms. LaMonte, Ms. Bruce pulled a gun out from under her coat and shot Ms. LaMonte point blank in the head,” one of the city police officers told them. “Then, before anyone had a chance to react, she placed the gun to her own head and pulled the trigger.”
“This is unbelievable,” Mara gasped. “Julia Bruce was dying . . .”
“There was a note found in the apartment of Ms. Bruce,” Lou said. “In it, she expressed her love for her only daughter, and talked about how the doctors had said that the cancer had spread to her brain and that she only had a week or so to live.
“She went on to elaborate, talking about how she was of sound mind and body considering her death sentence, and that while she still had her mind, she wanted to make sure that Elzianne LaMonte never hurt anyone again. ‘My life doesn’t matter anymore,’ she had written, ‘except in that I have this one last opportunity to right some of the so many wrongs that Elzianne LaMonte has spread among all who knew her.’”
“What about her daughter?” Mara asked.
“Her daughter confirmed what the note had said about Ms. Bruce having only a week left to live. She said that in the last twenty-four hours that her mother had seemed more like her old self than she had in months. From what I’ve seen of cancer patients, that is as clear a sign as one could receive that she would be gone within a day.”
“Will you need anything from us?” Doug asked. “No,” the third officer replied. “We simply wanted to notify Mrs. Michael and express our condolences to the family.”
“Thank you, officers,” Sylvia LaMonte said, escorting them to the door. “I’ll see that some kind of arrangements are made as soon as you tell me to proceed.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Holdings
Elzianne LaMonte was cremated the next day, after forensics experts had finished gathering any evidence they might need. The case was labeled murder by probable medically provoked dementia and suicide. The case was closed at the request of the district attorney, after a lengthy discussion with Sylvia LaMonte and with Julia Bruce’s daughter, Carol.
Sylvia organized a simple memorial at the LaMonte homestead, also releasing a modest obituary that documented Elzianne’s existence on this earth. About twenty people attended—mostly childhood friends, who had never left Rhinebeck, each of whom stood in silent reverence while Elzianne’s ashes were scattered into the Hudson River.
“It’s more than she deserved,” Joe Michael told his wife.
“She can’t hurt us anymore, Joey,” Sylvia LaMonte said.
When the ceremony was over, Sylvia LaMonte walked away from her sister one last time. “I wish I could say I miss her, but when I look deep inside, there’s nothing there,” she told Mara later. “Absolutely nothing but the sad knowledge of what might have been between sisters who actually cared about each other.”
“I’m sorry you never had her,” Mara said. “But from everything I have learned, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t.”
Sal looked at the daughter she had given up at birth. What a fine woman she had turned out to be—a beautiful combination of both kindness and caring. She couldn’t take any credit for that. Mara’s real parents had taught her those traits. But God had blessed Sylvia LaMonte, and guided her in making the right decision about the baby she had called Jane.
Now he had blessed her again by not only letting her meet the woman she had become, but by bringing her daughter back fully into her life. She wasn’t sure she deserved it; then, again, why not? Hadn’t she done her best in life within the circumstances she had been dealt? She crossed be kind to yourself off her mental bucket list and let herself feel the joy she had come to know.
A smile crossed her face as she watched Mara and Doug walk ahead of her, hand in hand. Dennis Connor had told her that she would be inheriting Elzianne’s entire estate. Even after restitution and fines and bills, he had told her, it still amounted to three quarters of a billion dollars.
Yet the news hadn’t brought her real joy. True, it had been a relief to know that the Driftfeather and the Storm Roamer were free and clear again—also Beachmoppers and their landing craft. But Sylvia LaMonte had long ago learned that money could bring as much evil as it could joy, and so she had learned to appreciate relationships more than dollars.
The biggest satisfaction would be in knowing that Doug and Mara would never have to worry again. She and Joe had already left half of their estate to them before learning the truth about Mara. The rest they had left to Joe’s niece, Della. Della would be comfortable for the rest of her life, but Doug and Mara would now be heirs to the complete LaMonte estate, including the property in Rhinebeck and other area real estate holdings. Together, Sal and Joe decid
ed to tell Doug and Mara later, after they returned to Hoonah. For now, they had just let the two know that the Driftfeather and Storm Roamer were still theirs, and that alone had given them more relief than they could have imagined.
Sylvia and Joe had also decided that they would set up a generous trust for Julia Bruce’s daughter, Carol, whose mother had loved her so much and whose joy she would no longer know. Both Carol and Julia had helped them and the trust was easy enough for them to implement, so that Carol and her family would never have to worry about money again. Dennis Connor would notify Carol in writing. There was no need to expect gratitude or look for validation from her. The giving in itself had provided all they needed.
Thor bounded up to them as they later walked past a small antique shop from which Sylvia LaMonte returned with a beautiful cut-crystal bowl.
“I know this isn’t the Edo porcelain that you used to drink from,” she told him, “but I think you’ll find it satisfactory.”
Joe Michael laughed at the gesture. “Sometimes I think you love that dog more than you do me.”
“And sometimes I just think you think too much, Joe Michael,” Sal laughed, putting her arm through his.
“A few more days and we should be headed home,” he told her.
“I can’t think of anything I’m looking forward to more than being there,” Sal said. “But first there’s some loose ends to wrap up with the estate. For one thing, I’m going to have to hire a caretaker for the house. We’ll probably have to fly back in a few months to sort through everything, and I was thinking that—”
Joe Michael pulled her close. “And you say that I’m the one who thinks too much.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
Packing Up
Joe Michael threw a duffel bag towards Doug, who caught it and lifted it into the Cessna. After two months in New York and a lifetime of drama, it felt good to be heading back to Hoonah again.
When he bent down to pick up another bag, he saw the feather he had returned to Mara lying on the ground. She would never have left it there if she had known. He knew that for sure.
“Are you missing something important?” he called to Mara. “Something like the feather, maybe?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m sure glad I had the idea to return it to you when I did,” he said. “Something told me that it was time and it looks like something was right. Anyway, it must have fallen out of your pocket because I found it on the ground this morning.”
“Did you say something, Joe?” Mara said, sticking her head out the door of the plane where she had been clear back inside the tail helping stack their luggage as Doug lifted it up to her.
“Doug, have you seen Thor’s blanket?”
“I don’t think she heard you, Joe,” Doug said.
Joe Michael stuck the feather back into his pocket. He’d talk to Mara about the feather later, when there was more time—maybe during a quiet walk or something. She’d have to be more careful about losing it. He knew she’d agree, even if it was starting to get a bit raggedy from all the use.
It was weird how the feather kept coming back to him though, even when he tried to share it with others. He could hardly remember a time when it wasn’t jabbing him or sticking up out of his pocket. A couple of times he could have sworn he saw the red dot move, but at his age, his eyes were always playing tricks on him.
Maybe he’d listen to Sal and get his cataracts removed this winter. She said it was a simple procedure. What the heck! Glasses were a pain anyway, especially in the rainy and windy weather that was the norm in Southeast Alaska.
Sylvia LaMonte Kindle walked up to her husband and tucked her arm inside his.
“The ceremony was beautiful, wasn’t it?”
“It really was,” Joe answered. “It’s the first consulate I’ve ever visited.”
“The ambassador to Japan was so grateful to us for having the ceremony in New York City. He assured me that the people of Japan were more than honored to receive the rare porcelain bowl, especially in view of the devastation wrought by the tsunami.
“Apparently no one on either continent can believe that it survived the earthquake and tsunami, not to mention got all the way to Alaska without sustaining damage.”
“And it survived being stolen by your sister, Elzianne, too,” Doug said, as he walked by.
“Well, she’ll not be stealing it or anything else again,” Sylvia replied. “Although it wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t figure out a way to carry out her mission of evil from the beyond.”
“Whatever the case,” Joe Michael said, “she’s been exposed for who and what she was. I don’t think she can hurt us anymore, but I don’t blame you for feeling wary. When someone’s done the things that she’s done to you, you can’t help but feel guarded.”
“Hell’s bells, if ya think I’m gonna let that shrew rule me from her place in the hot seat, then ya ain’t seen the soul a Sal Kindle Michael, husband,” Sylvia said reverting to her Sal way of speaking.
“This is going to be an interesting final chapter in my life,” Joe laughed, placing his arm around his wife’s shoulders and squeezing her close. “Most men are lucky to keep one wife into their old age, but I’ve got me two—all wrapped up in one beautiful package.”
“We’re just about ready to board,” Doug called. “C’mere, Thor.”
Thor ran to Doug and tried to climb into the plane but couldn’t quite manage, so Doug lifted him inside and latched him in his cage.
“Everyone take care of whatever you have to take care of and be belted into the plane in fifteen minutes, okay?”
On their way back to the plane from the restrooms, Joe gave the feather back to Mara.
“You must have dropped it,” he said. “I found it on the ground this morning. That’s what I was trying to tell you when you were packing the plane.”
“Thank God you found it, Joe! I can’t believe I almost lost it again. Just the other day Doug said he had found it and had given it back to me, too. I definitely need to be more mindful of this feather.”
Joe Michael chuckled at her reaction. He had been right about what the feather meant to her.
“Don’t you know by now that neither of us is ever going to be able to shake this feather loose,” he laughed. “Kinda makes you feel like a bird or something, doesn’t it?”
“As if that would be a bad thing, huh?” Mara answered.
Doug helped them into the plane, having already seated Sal in one of the rear seats.
He checked her seatbelt again and then latched Joe’s around him as well, before helping Mara into the plane and also securing her restraint.
For the next several days, they flew by day and slept by night, taking only a minimal amount of clothing and personal items with which to freshen up each day. Each time, before departure, Doug would strap them in securely again, before lifting off.
Thor loved the travel, and especially loved the long walks he got to go on as the small party checked out each of their stops along the way.
Their last stop in Whitehorse had gone without incident, with none of the hassles from customs that they had experienced on the way south. Doug, more than any of them, had been relieved. Could this be the first sign that their troubles were now over and that life could be lived as it should be—free from the constant surprises and angst that had marked the past few years?
When they lifted off from Whitehorse it had been late afternoon, and he had done so knowing that the trip would be short enough to get them safely home before dark. He squeezed Mara’s hand as they flew along and she squeezed his back—a silent acknowledgment that all was well and that they were going home.
The sky was so blue, and a stream of orange-soaked clouds filtered the sun. Mara touched the feather in her pocket, savoring its comfortable presence. Joe was right. The feather was as much a part of her—of them—as were their heartbeats. She found herself touching it more now that she had almost lost it, as if trying to undo the mistake of
letting it out of her grasp.
When they got home, she would find a way to secure it, but then, was that even a good idea? Didn’t it need to be free from any tether in order to do its job? She tucked it deeper into her pocket, then, as if to distract herself from any more thoughts about the feather, pulled out the maps to help follow their route home.
“I don’t think we need those,” Doug said.
“I know, but I figure it will help me learn,” she answered.
Doug smiled.
“Maybe so,” he said.
Last Chapter
Heading Home
After studying the maps, Mara folded them back up. When she turned around to put them into the sleeve behind her seat, she could see both Sal and Joe asleep in the rear seats of the Cessna. She smiled at the sight of Joe’s hand resting on Sal’s lap and Sal’s hand resting on top of his. Reaching back, she pulled a comforter up over their legs, and then turned back around to enjoy the sights of the beautiful, clear fall day.
In an hour or so they would be back in Hoonah, another chapter of their life closed. It was true, wasn’t it, that something good always came from something bad? In a surprise move, Sal and Joe had presented them with the deed to both Beachmoppers and the landing craft, and that deed had been dated long before Mara had come to know the truth about the old woman, who had mysteriously appeared in her life one day when she needed her most.
“We’re also leaving most of our bank account, the house, and the cabin to Della,” Sal had told them. “It’s not that we want to be morbid, but we’re old now and all that’s really important to us is each other—and the love of those close to us, so we had Dennis Connor draw up a will before we left.”
The rest of the news about their inheritance would be part of their homecoming celebration—at least that is what Sal and Joe had whispered to each other earlier that day.
Mara and Doug had enjoyed the celebration held by the Japanese consulate in New York earlier that week, during which Sal had returned the Edo period rare porcelain bowl to the people of Japan, shocking even hardened news reporters when they donated the substantial reward to the continued tsunami relief in that country.
Feather for Hoonah Joe Page 17