The Stairwell

by M. M. Silva

  “More than enough,” I replied. “Jump in the shower, and I’ll find you some aspirin and a bottled water. We’re meeting Gus at 11:00, and then I’m going to try to meet with the dead guy’s widow after that.”

  Kayla harrumphed as she got out of bed and threw one of the pillows toward the headboard. “This vacation sucks,” she grumbled.

  My eyebrow shot up. “Vacation? Kayla, you invited yourself out here, and I told you I’d be working. This is not a vacation, it’s my life.”

  “Well, your life sucks,” she said and went across the hall into the bathroom. She’s a smidge bitchy in the morning.

  I padded downstairs to find Doob and Sampson sprawled on the floor in front of the television, remnants of food all over the new, beautiful rug that covered Jeff’s hardwood floors.

  “Doob! What the hell? This isn’t my place! Get off the floor and go find a Dustbuster or something.”

  A voice from behind me said, “No worries, Meagan. At least half of that mess is mine, probably more. It’ll clean up, no big deal.” I turned to see Jeff looking almost as scary as Doob, with his mile-high hair, and stubble mixed with crumbs all over his face. He had a full glass of chocolate milk and a box of Hot Tamales. “I love how you guys eat. This is living.”

  I looked back at Doob, who stuck his tongue out. Shaking my head, I went into the kitchen and grabbed some crap of my own—a frosted strawberry Pop Tart and a Diet Coke. Then I remembered Kayla.

  “Does anyone have aspirin?” I yelled, digging for a bottled water out of the massive refrigerator. I really needed to win the lottery. I’d never seen a bigger refrigerator, nor had I ever seen a full one. It was a thing to behold.

  “Advil, Midol, and Tylenol are in the half bath,” Jeff replied.

  Wow. A full medicine cabinet, too?

  Doob mumbled something, but I couldn’t understand him, undoubtedly because his mouth was full. Walking back into the family room, I asked him to repeat himself.

  “Where’s Kayla?” Doob repeated as he turned a brilliant shade of red. Jeff sat up straighter, and Sampson’s ears even perked up a little.

  My God. Every male in the house was in the throes of anticipation.

  “She’s in the shower, and the bathroom door is bolted shut, so stay the hell away from the upstairs. It wouldn’t hurt you guys to mix in some soap and water, either. We’re meeting a friend for breakfast at 11:00.”

  “You buying?” Doob asked.

  I threw my arms in the air. “Of course I am, Doob. It’s not like anyone else here has any money, right?” Jeff chuckled as I headed toward the bathroom to get some aspirin for Kayla.

  Jeff called after me. “A friend?”

  “You’ll like him, I promise,” I responded over my shoulder.

  At 10:30, we all piled into Doob’s Mercedes and headed to the picturesque little town. We found a parking spot easily enough, which would never happen in the peak summer months, and read the specials on the chalkboard outside the diner before going inside.

  Shelley greeted me warmly, and I introduced her to the group. She showed us to a table and said Gus hadn’t arrived yet. Doob and I ordered super-duper-maximum-sized coffees, Jeff ordered an orange juice, and Kayla ordered a hot tea.

  We were perusing the menu when I saw Gus make his entrance. He was adorable and looked like he’d dressed in his Sunday best. Shelley gave him a hug and peck on the cheek, and walked him over to our table.

  After the introductions, Gus pulled up a chair beside Kayla and gave her a wink. She rewarded him with a big smile and said, “What’s shaking pops?”

  Good grief. He looked over at me and tilted his head toward Kayla. “You weren’t kidding about this one,” he said with a gleam in his eye. Add another male to the list of Kayla’s admirers.

  Kayla sighed. “I’m sure Meagan warned you I will seduce you with my feminine wiles and then leave you to blow in the wind.” She leaned in and feigned a husky whisper. “But you’ll have a great time along the way.”

  Gus’s laughter boomed through the café as Shelley deposited beverages for everyone at the table. After ordering our food, Gus brought the rest of the group up-to-date on what he’d shared with me yesterday. And then he surprised me with some new information.

  “I have a friend on the police force here in town,” Gus said. “It sounds like they’re going to rule Charlie’s death an accident, so the case will probably be closed soon.”

  Jeff looked skeptical. “They sure wrapped it up quickly. I knew that would happen,” he said with a shake of his head.

  Gus shrugged as he set down his coffee cup. “He was an old man, he was at the bottom of the stairs, and his neck was broken, Jeff. It’s a horrible thing, but if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…” But there wasn’t much conviction in his voice, and I remember what he’d said yesterday about Charlie possibly being killed.

  Jeff still didn’t look convinced, so I jumped in. “Well, that’s why I’m here. If there’s something more to this, I’ll find it. It really might be an accident like they’re saying. And that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? It would be better than having a murder victim in your house.”

  Jeff nodded. “Of course. I dunno, it just didn’t feel like an accident. I don’t know how to explain it.” He lifted that shoulder like he does when he’s not sure what to think. “Heck, maybe the poor guy was just poking around and fell, and that was that.”

  Shelley appeared with a tray of food, and our conversation turned to lighter subjects. I noticed Kayla trying hard to be her usual self, but she seemed a little withdrawn, and I knew we’d have to revisit our discussion from last night very soon. I just didn’t know how we were going to handle that situation, but first things first. There was bacon to devour.

  After everyone but Gus had worked themselves into food comas, we sat around staring vacantly into space, and I found myself hoping someone had a wagon or a wheelbarrow or something to drag our gluttonous selves back to the car. As the older and much wiser one, Gus looked around at each of us and smirked.

  “Should I be concerned I’m going to walk in here tomorrow and find all of you in the same seats and the same clothes? Would you like me to stop by later with some blankets and pillows?”

  “Yes, please,” Doob said automatically, and Gus laughed his big, full belly laugh.

  I shook my head. “No, we’ve got to move at some point. Kayla and I are going to go see Mrs. O’Neill today.” Kayla pulled a face, but I glared at her. “You’re going, princess.”

  “I’m not good around sad people,” Kayla whined.

  “That’s because you’re out of practice. Plus, we need to talk more about our topic from last night.”

  She nodded grudgingly, and we all bid Gus farewell. After getting back to the house, Doob and Jeff changed into sweatpants and plopped down on their respective couches. I was pretty certain Kayla and I would find them fused to the furniture when we returned later in the day.

  Kayla and I arrived at Eileen O’Neill’s house and expressed sincere sympathies for her loss. I’d called Eileen the day before and had been shocked she’d agreed to meet with me today, since Charlie’s funeral was just this morning, but she said anyone who would help find out why Charlie had been in that house was welcome in her home anytime.

  Despite her grief, Eileen was a gracious hostess, saying she had more food than she knew what to do with. Neighbors and friends had been stopping by for three days straight, and casserole dishes and Tupperware were jammed to maximum capacity in her refrigerator. The smell of coffee permeated the house, and I accepted a cup as Eileen served us coffee cake. Kayla and I exchanged we’re not hungry glances, but I would have eaten a full-grown elephant if this woman had put it in front of me. It was simply the right thing to do.

  I quickly developed a soft spot for Eileen because her thick Irish brogue was so much like my Uncle Larry’s, which always became heavier after a few cocktails. Eileen didn’t seem to know exactly why Charlie had been at the old Mc
Graw house, but something in her sad, earnest face made me think she was holding out on us. I wanted her to trust us, but that was a lot to expect from a woman who’d just buried her husband of forty-seven years. Blurting out I thought she was lying was probably not the way to her heart, so I let the conversation go where it might, and three little nuggets of information came out of the visit.

  The first was when she gave me several small boxes of personal items from Ava McGraw’s house. Charlie had kept them after her death and intended to give them to Rusty if he was ever paroled.

  The second tidbit of information she mentioned was that Charlie had visited Rusty in jail the day before Charlie disappeared. Eileen reported him missing just twenty-four hours before Jeff got to the house, which I found to be curious timing. Eileen said she’d known something was wrong, when Charlie didn’t come home, as they’d never once during their marriage spent a night apart from each other.

  Sigh. Where in the heck were love stories like that anymore?

  When I said I found the visit to Rusty to be more than coincidence, Eileen said Charlie visited him several times a year and didn’t think there was anything unusual about it. I remained unconvinced but didn’t want to argue with the kind woman.

  The third thing Eileen shared, which I found quite intriguing, was Charlie had once been a firefighter, and he’d participated in the Boston Marathon every year for the past twenty years. Even though he was over seventy years old, it sounded like the man had been in pretty good shape, and it didn’t seem like a fall down the stairs would end him.

  On our way out, Kayla and I thanked the sweet lady for her time and again expressed sympathies for her loss. The feeling she hadn’t told us everything was still in the forefront of my mind, and I gave her a hug and placed a business card in her hand. “Eileen, if you think of anything else—anything at all—I won’t betray your confidence or get you into any type of trouble. You have my word on that.”

  She studied me for a long moment and gave me a smile. Kayla and I started across the porch and down the front stairs of her home.

  “Oh, girls!” Eileen called after us as she stood in the front door.

  Thank God.

  I turned, waiting for her to continue. She tentatively stepped onto the porch and stopped, gazing at her feet. “There is one last thing, although I don’t know if it’ll be helpful. I probably should have mentioned it when you were inside.” Her shoulders sagged. “I guess it’s been a long day.”

  Placing my hand on her arm, I tried to sound as soothing as possible. “Of course it has, Eileen. We can come back another time. You’ve been more than gracious, and you should get some rest.”

  Eileen shook her head and gestured toward the dark, wicker furniture that was still on the front porch, despite the chill in the weather as of late. The set was comprised of a bench and two matching chairs and looked to be something straight out of Pier One, complete with coordinated outdoor pillows. I sat in one of the chairs and watched as Kayla ignored the furniture and instead plopped on the swing on the other side of the porch. Her long legs pumped just a little bit to get the swing moving at a slow, steady pace, and watching her made me smile. When had America moved to backyards and decks off the kitchen? There was something very nostalgic and sweet about a front porch.

  Eileen took the chair opposite mine, wringing her hands. Despite that, I sensed she was going to soldier on. “I think I just needed to get out of the house for a little bit. It seems a lot bigger with Charlie gone.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so we sat for a few minutes in the solitude while the swing squeaked slightly under Kayla’s rhythmic rocking. It was a lovely fall evening, and if Eileen needed to sit here all night, then I was in for the duration.

  Finally, Eileen cleared her throat and said, “It’s been an eternity since I’ve talked about this, and I don’t even know if it’s relevant or not. It’s been such a long time…” Her gaze shifted to the horizon, and I watched a steely glint come into her eyes.

  “Take your time,” I murmured, and Kayla nodded in the background. We didn’t want to interfere with the fragile atmosphere.

  I watched Eileen’s jaw set hard, and then she looked around, almost as if to see if someone could overhear her. “Well, you’ve probably heard the stories about Rusty McGraw’s—uh, activities—that landed him in jail.”

  “We have.”

  “Well, Charlie always felt a little bad for Rusty, obviously. He thought Rusty might have done some jobs for people who…well, people who didn’t want to get their hands dirty. People with money.” Her voice had reduced to a near-whisper when she said the last few words.

  “That happens a lot,” I said, trying to encourage her. “Is there someone else we might want to speak with about Rusty’s activities? Maybe someone who could give a little insight as to what Charlie was doing at the McGraw house?”

  Eileen continued to wring her hands and look around some more. When she spoke, her voice was again very soft. “Well, not that you could get near Mr. Hoity-Toity himself, but Charlie always thought Malcolm Johnson had something to do with more than one or two of Rusty’s more lucrative antics.”

  My eyes bulged. “As in Malcolm Gage Johnson, the oil tycoon?”

  Kayla’s eyes narrowed as she glided back and forth. “There’s no oil in Newport, dipshit.” Then, in a rare moment of self-awareness, she glanced at Eileen and said, “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Eileen chuckled. “Well, the family didn’t strike oil in Newport; you’re right about that, Kayla. Malcolm Gage Johnson lives in one of the mansions on Ocean Drive, but he’s only there for a few months a year. He has houses all over the world.”

  “Rough life,” I grumbled, getting a little sick of being surrounded by money at every turn.

  Eileen nodded. “His granddaddy struck it rich during the oil boom in the early 1900s near Beaumont, Texas, and the rest, as they say, is history. I don’t think Malcolm has ever dirtied his hands during his entire privileged life. But he’s a greedy coot, and it’s been rumored that even with all of his money, he always wanted more. He’s older now, but in his time he was a huge gambler and a rumored womanizer, and Charlie was convinced Malcolm used to hire Rusty to steal other rich people’s trinkets just for the sport of it. Pardon my French, but Charlie used to say Malcolm would get off on things like that. He liked stealing precious items and taking them to one of his other homes where no one would ever know where they came from. And Charlie didn’t like Malcolm involving Rusty and treating him as a pawn in his little games.”

  “Eileen, Malcolm sounds like a total jerk, but what does his hiring Rusty over twenty years ago have to do with Charlie’s death? Do you have anything that might tie the incidents together?”

  She looked tentative. “No, but you said that anything might be important—”

  I nodded and told myself to quit interrupting. “You’re absolutely right. Please continue.”

  “Well, obviously, this was all before my time, but back in the day, Charlie was a bit of a ladies’ man.” She sighed and looked wistful. “He was so handsome and friendly. Charlie could have sold ice to an Eskimo. He never met a stranger; he was simply the perfect man.”

  Watching her eyes twinkle while talking about her husband, I became strangely jealous of this woman who’d buried her soulmate only hours before. While I wouldn’t have traded places with her for the world, I couldn’t help but think of what life would have been like with Tom, had fate played a different card. I was envious of this woman who had a lifetime of memories while the man I had pledged my heart to had been murdered on our wedding day.

  “Meg? You okay?” Kayla was looking at me tenderly, an uncommon reaction for her. Like Doob, she can sometimes read my mind.

  I stammered. “Oh…um, yes. I’m sorry, Eileen. I was just thinking how difficult this all must be for you. Please go on.” Kayla’s eyes were full of compassion, and I wanted to cover her face with one of the decorative pillows to avoid seeing the pity.


  Thankfully Eileen continued. “Anyway, Charlie dated Malcolm’s younger sister way back when. Her name was Charlotte. Kind of cute, right? Charlie and Charlotte.”

  I smiled but didn’t comment.

  “She and Charlie went on a couple of dates, and I don’t want to speak ill of the poor dear. But to hear Charlie’s side of it, Charlotte was a little off.”

  I cocked my head. “What do you mean by ‘off’?”

  She shrugged. “Nowadays, they have names for everything and every disorder. Today they would probably diagnose Charlotte’s condition as bipolar and medicate her accordingly. But, back then, Charlie said she’d have severe mood changes, and he really wasn’t interested in those types of shenanigans. What is the word the kids use nowadays? Drama. He didn’t want to deal with the drama. So he broke it off with her, but it didn’t go well.”

  “What happened?”

  Eileen wrung her hands again. “Well, even though they’d only gone to a couple of dinners, Charlotte took the breakup really badly, and she ended up overdosing on a bottle of pills.”

  “She died?” I asked.

  Eileen nodded. “She did. Charlie felt horrible, but he didn’t have anything to do with it. That poor girl needed professional help; no one knew how bad it was.”

  “That’s terrible,” I commented. “Is it safe to assume Malcolm and his family held Charlie responsible?”

  Eileen shrugged. “I don’t know about the family, but Malcolm certainly did. When Charlie arrived at the wake, Malcolm left the receiving line and physically dragged Charlie outside. He told Charlie he’d kill him if it was the last thing he ever did.”

  “Did Charlie tell the police?”

  She shook her head sadly. “No, he didn’t. He felt sorry for Malcolm and thought his emotions had gotten the better of him. Charlie left the wake and didn’t go to the funeral or gravesite service. He wanted to pay his respects, but he didn’t want to make it harder on the family.”

  “What’s hard to imagine is that Malcolm would have still been harboring that type of resentment against Charlie. How long ago was it?”