“I suppose,” she said finally, “that an autopsy will determine if my mother suffered a medical incident that made her lose control of the car or if she . . .”
“Yes. I suppose it will.”
“Remember what she said about being so tired, about wanting to put an end to it all. It’s just too awful. My poor mother, so desperate, so despairing, all on her own—” Arden felt her throat constrict again and pressed a tissue to her eyes.
“Please,” Laura begged. “Whatever happened this afternoon was not your fault. You must believe that. Please, for my sake if not for your own.”
Arden nodded. “For your sake, I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.”
Before Laura could respond, Falstaff, still at Arden’s feet with his friends let out an ear-piercing yowl.
“My God!” Laura cried. “What was that about?”
“When life ends for one,” Arden replied with a small smile, “it still goes on for others. Falstaff is simply reminding us that it’s time for his dinner.”
Chapter 79
The next morning, a Monday, Arden and Laura enjoyed a breakfast of strong coffee, scrambled eggs, and toast. The cats were remarkably restrained in their efforts at snatching bits of butter and egg.
Laura had slept remarkably soundly given the emotional chaos and shock of the previous day. No doubt the double shot of brandy she had taken after dinner had helped. Maybe it was also the reason she forgot to remind her mother to call the bank that morning to make an appointment to sign the loan papers.
When the breakfast things had been cleared away, Arden turned to Laura. “You said letters, plural, when my mother was here. You said she sent you letters.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. There was another one after the first. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you even more than you already were worrying. I did show it to Ted though, and he agreed with my feeling that the writer might not be trying to threaten me but to protect me. And I guess in a way we were right.”
“Yes, you were.”
When her mother had gone off to her bedroom to get dressed, Laura found herself thinking again about what Florence had said that day before, about wanting to put an end to it all. After so many years of being passive, of being protected and told what to do and to say and to think, the idea of Florence Aldridge finally making a decision of her own was, in a way, remarkable. But suicide was sad and horrible. It was born of despair, not of confidence. Florence could not be admired for taking her own life, if that’s what she had done, but she could be pitied. A guilty conscience had eaten away at her reason.
Laura’s cell phone chirped. “It’s Ted,” she said to Arden, who had just returned.
Arden nodded; her mouth tensed.
“Hi,” Laura said, bracing for whatever news her mother’s old friend had to impart.
“I just got off the phone with the chief of police,” Ted said without preamble. “Herbert Aldridge voluntarily admitted to the police that he paid someone to bury Rob’s body, his bicycle, and the gun used to kill him. His wife’s gun. And he confessed to having bribed the chief of police and a few other bigwigs to cut short the investigation into Rob’s disappearance.”
Laura swallowed hard. “My father . . . Where is he?”
“Rob’s body is . . . It’s at the bottom of what was once the swimming pool. I’m so sorry, Laura.”
Laura’s head began to whirl. She recalled what Steve Penn had said about hearing noises on the Aldridge property that long-ago Sunday evening. She turned away from Arden and lowered her voice, though she knew that in a few moments she would have to share this news. It was, in a way, what they had been hoping to hear, but it was dreadful all the same. “There’ll be an—” What was the right word? An excavation? An exhumation?
“Yes,” Ted confirmed. “It’s being arranged. I’ll let you know when as soon as I find out.”
“Ted? Did Herbert reveal the name of the person he paid to—”
“Yes. It was Jake Barber, but Herbert swears he had nothing to do with Jake’s death the following year. Anyway, I’ll let James know later today. I don’t know if it will bring him any peace or not.”
“Thanks, Ted,” Laura said. “For everything. You’ve been very kind to my mother and me.”
“I’m sorry, Laura. I wish this whole thing had turned out differently. I wish that . . .”
Laura swallowed a lump in her throat. “That’s all right,” she whispered before ending the call.
Laura turned to face her mother. Arden was standing perfectly still. Her stance was almost unnerving, a perfect contrast to the picture of frantic determination Florence had been as she ran from the cottage to her death.
“You might want to sit down.”
“What is it?” Arden said firmly. “Just tell me.”
Laura did. Arden reached behind her for the arm of a chair, and Laura dashed forward to help her mother sink into it.
“Can I get you some water?”
Arden shook her head. “Will there be—”
“Yes. Ted will let us know when.”
“I want to be there,” Arden said fiercely. “I need to be there.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Laura said soothingly. “Just rest now. You’ve had a shock. We both have.” Laura moved away from Arden’s chair and sank into one of her own.
“Those weeks after I came back from Two Suns,” Arden said in a tone of weary disbelief, “I was living only yards away from the body of the man I loved. It’s too macabre.”
That was one way to put it, Laura thought. “And it’s probably the reason why your parents never moved. New owners might have had the idea of digging up the yard to lay a foundation for a new structure. And then the ugly truth would be known.”
Arden simply nodded.
How, Laura wondered, how had Herbert and Florence Aldridge ever squared their consciences living so close to the body of the young man they had killed? Because essentially, at least in Laura’s mind, both had pulled the trigger of that little mother-of-pearl-handled gun. Both were culpable.
But in the end, Florence’s conscience had gotten the better of her. Had Herbert’s, too? Had the desire for genuine confession and absolution been the real reason for his speaking up now?
“I can’t believe my father confessed,” Arden admitted, as if reading Laura’s mind. “After all these years. His reputation, what might be left of it, is completely shattered now. Everything that mattered to him—status, influence, power—all gone.”
“You’ve said that your mother mattered to him.”
“Yes,” said Arden thoughtfully. “She did. Maybe that’s why he finally dropped the charade. Without his wife, he has nothing left to live for.”
“You’ve always said that your parents were in love.” Or, Laura added silently, codependent. But was there much difference in the end? And did it matter? Life was difficult. People got through the best they could.
“Do you remember,” Laura went on, “that earlier this summer I said quite firmly that I would never forgive the person who hurt my father? But now . . .” Laura paused, momentarily choked with emotion. “Now that I know it was Florence, that deeply sad and troubled woman, well, I think that like you, I can forgive her.”
Her mother smiled. “I’m glad. Truly. I’m not saying she should be absolved of all responsibility for her actions, just that she needs understanding.”
“You know, we should tell the Smiths about me—and about you—as soon as possible,” Laura said after a moment. “Before they hear the truth via the Port George grapevine.”
“Yes. I wonder if they’ve already heard that my family is to blame for Rob’s death?”
“Even if they have heard, they probably haven’t heard that Rob’s child is alive and well. That news needs to come from us.”
“Gosh, I’m nervous,” Arden said with a shaky laugh.
“Me, too. But there’s no time like the present. I’ve got Frannie’s number in my notebook.” While Laura lo
oked up her aunt’s phone number, her mother sat with her hands folded in her lap.
“Hello,” Laura said, when a woman’s voice answered her call. “Is this Frannie Armitage? . . . This is Laura Huntington. We spoke recently about research I was doing for a podcast. . . . Thanks, I’m fine. Look, I have something very important to tell you. Are you alone? It might be best if someone is there with you, your husband maybe or one of your children.”
After a moment, Laura nodded. “Good,” she said, her heart beating so loudly she could hardly hear her own voice. “I’m glad Mr. Armitage is there. My name really is Laura Huntington. But I haven’t been in Port George researching a podcast. The truth is that I was trying to find out what had happened to my father back in August of 1984. You see, Frannie, I’m your niece. Your brother, Rob, is my father. And I’m here in Eliot’s Corner with my mother. Victoria Aldridge. May I put you on speakerphone?”
Chapter 80
Spring 1984
Victoria had no specific reason for being in the Port George Public Library that afternoon. She had almost finished writing her end-of-term papers, and only a few days before she had checked out two novels she had been eager to read, both by contemporary writers. But even on a warm and sunny day in May, when the majority of people might prefer to lounge on a grassy lawn, Victoria Aldridge was drawn to wander through the stacks, reading titles, opening certain volumes, exploring sections she had been ignoring during the school year, planning future studies.
She found herself regarding works concerning the geological history of the earth. Why not? She reached for a copy of Charles Lyell’s Principles of Geology, and suddenly—a tectonic shift?—found herself jostled roughly.
“I’m so sorry!” Victoria cried, automatically taking the blame for someone else’s clumsiness. Only then did she look to see who had crashed into her, dropping several chunky books at her feet.
“It’s not your fault,” the young man said hurriedly. “I’m the one who came barreling around the corner. Are you okay? I’m really sorry.”
The look of genuine contrition on the young man’s face caused Victoria to blush. “I’m fine.” She crouched to help him gather his books, and a moment later the young man’s arms were once again full.
“Thanks. Excuse me, but aren’t you Victoria Aldridge?”
Victoria nodded. “Yes. How did you—”
“Everyone knows the Aldridge family.” The young man smiled.
“And you’re Robert Smith. “I—Someone pointed you out to me once.”
That was true. She and a classmate had gone into town after school one afternoon for an ice cream at the North Star. “See that guy?” Maggie had whispered just as the girls were about to enter the diner. “The one getting out of that green car? Isn’t he gorgeous?”
Victoria had only nodded. The guy truly was gorgeous, and so far in her life, Victoria hadn’t been particularly impressed by the looks of any guy in Port George.
“That’s Rob Smith,” Maggie had gone on. “He’s supposed to be super-nice, too. Everyone wants to go out with him, but from what I heard he’s really picky. He’s only had, like, one girlfriend and that was a few years ago.”
Before the girls could ogle any longer, Rob Smith was gone. Victoria hadn’t given him much thought after that first sighting. Why should she? She wasn’t often in town, and since she had never seen Rob Smith before, it wasn’t likely she would ever see him again.
But now, standing just a few feet from this super-nice, gorgeous guy, Victoria wondered how she had ever forgotten him, even for a moment.
Rob was smiling. His eyes were soulfully dark. “That’s me, but you can call me Rob.”
Victoria’s grip on the shoulder strap of her pocketbook tightened. “Okay. So, what are you doing here? Well, obviously . . .” She laughed nervously and nodded toward Rob’s armload of books.
“I’m enrolled at the community college. I need these for a final paper. I’m taking this class on the history of psychology. It’s fascinating. I mean, even though people started thinking about the mind and behavior and all that stuff in ancient times, psychology didn’t come around as a separate science until the late nineteenth century. That’s, like, yesterday in terms of time.”
“The class sounds really interesting,” Victoria said earnestly.
“I think so. A lot more interesting than what I’ll be doing this summer, which is working for a construction company.” Rob dipped his head a bit before going on. “We, ah, I think we’re going to be at your place, actually. Your parents are putting in a pool, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but I don’t know why they want one.” Victoria half laughed nervously. “Neither of them swims and I prefer the ocean.”
Rob smiled and shrugged. “Maybe it’s the hot thing to have these days, the way to impress the neighbors.” Then his eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—”
“That’s okay. It probably is the reason we’re getting a pool, to impress the neighbors, though why anyone would care is beyond me.”
In a moment of awkward silence Victoria gazed at Rob and he gazed at her. She had never before found herself in a situation like this, so close to a guy, face-to-face....
“So, you go to Wilder Academy?” Rob asked suddenly. “I mean, your uniform . . .”
Nervously Victoria touched her white uniform blouse. “Yes. I’m a senior. I’ll be going to Blake College in September. It’s in Massachusetts.”
Rob nodded. “Right. I’ll still be here in Port George. Not that it matters. I mean it doesn’t matter to you, it matters to me, of course.” Rob shrugged and laughed. “Sorry. I’m babbling.”
Victoria smiled and felt her heart flip. “So, what else are you studying besides psychology?”
“Well, right now I’m mostly taking basic courses, you know, core requirements. But when—if—I transfer after two years to a four-year school, then I’d like to major in economics.”
“What do you mean if you transfer?”
“Well, if I can afford to continue,” Rob said easily. “We’ll see what kind of financial aid I can get, maybe a scholarship if I’m lucky. My parents aren’t in a position to help, you see.” Rob smiled. “My sister Frannie thinks I’m nuts wanting a college degree. Mom and Dad have done okay without one, but I don’t know. I’m one of those oddballs who actually likes school.”
Victoria smiled. “I’m one of those oddballs, too.”
“I guess oddballs need to stick together.”
Victoria’s smile widened. She felt a strong urge to put out her hand to shake, one oddball with another, anything to be able to touch this person. But before she could act on that wild idea, a discreet cough caused her to turn her head. A woman about her mother’s age was looking directly at Victoria and Rob. Before Victoria could determine if she recognized her, the woman looked away.
Everyone knows the Aldridge family.
Victoria’s stomach tensed. She was doing nothing wrong. It was not a crime to chat with someone in a public place. Still, she felt guilty. Her parents would not be happy about her spending time with a young man who would soon be working as a laborer on their property.
“I’ve got to go,” she said suddenly. “I mean, I’m expected—”
Rob nodded. “Okay. It was nice to meet you. Guess I’ll see you around. I mean, here, in the library. I’m kind of here a lot. I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before.” Rob winced. “Not that I intend to literally run into you again.”
“I know. I mean, sure. I’ll see you. Bye.”
All curiosity about geology abandoned, Victoria hurried toward the stairs that led down to the ground floor. Her mind was in a whirl. She hoped she hadn’t insulted him by hurrying off, because he was as awesome as Maggie had said he was. And imagine, he would be working at her house that summer. Well, not at the house exactly, but on the property. Not that she could have anything to do with a work crew. She couldn’t exactly hang around watching for him. . . .
At the top of the stairs, Victor
ia stopped and looked over her shoulder. Rob was still where she had left him. He smiled, and after juggling the stack of books to free one of his hands, he waved. Victoria smiled and waved in return. As she fairly bounced down the stairs, she vowed to find an excuse—it wouldn’t be difficult—to visit the library again tomorrow.
Let everyone know the Aldridge family, she thought. To heck with them!
Chapter 81
Arden hadn’t slept much the night before; she doubted that Laura had either. Both were sporting bags under their eyes. Neither had been able to stomach breakfast, other than a cup of coffee. Arden was glad that Laura had volunteered to drive. She doubted she could stay alert enough not to—Arden squirmed. She had almost thought, Not to drive them into a tree.
The morning was dismal. Gloomy. Chilly. An appropriate day, Arden thought, for the somber and solemn task at hand. If the sun had been shining, the air warm and scented with the sea, it would have seemed a mockery of what they were setting out to achieve. The recovery of a loved one.
At eight o’clock, they left Juniper End and Eliot’s Corner for the journey to Port George. “Music?”
Arden shook her head. “Do you mind silence?”
“Not at all.”
The drive was both endless and over in a moment. By the time they entered Port George, Arden was feeling greatly unsettled. She hadn’t set foot in the town since the day she had run away and had never thought she would be doing so again, especially under such odd and dreadful circumstances.
At the foot of the long drive leading to the Aldridge house on Old Orchard Hill, a group of locals was gathered. They had a pent-up energy about them that further upset Arden.
“Eager for a glimpse of something macabre,” Laura said darkly. “Like a body.”
“Or for a glimpse of us. The long-lost daughter and granddaughter.”
“Don’t make eye contact.” Laura steered the car past a police officer charged with keeping the curious from further invading the property.
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