by Glen Ebisch
Charles realized that he was planted in the middle of the doorway as if defending his house from an attacking army. Perhaps I am, he thought.
He took a step back and invited her inside. She stood far too close to him in the small lobby, so he immediately led her into the kitchen.
“Would you like some tea?” he asked, not quite knowing what else to say.
She shook her head. “I guess you’re aware by now that I had a bit of an altercation with Jason Savoy last evening.”
“I’d say assault and battery is more like it. Maybe even grievous bodily injury.”
“He should have fought back. Sebastian was right, the boy is a wimp.”
“Some men are raised not to hit women.”
Lavinia smiled sadly. “An out of date concept, Charles. During the war in Vietnam, the women were the fiercest fighters, did you know that?”
Charles didn’t respond. He’d heard the same thing himself when he’d been over there.
“So why did you attack him?”
“I found out from your colleague, Yuri whatever his name is, that Jason was around looking for Sebastian just before he died. So I figured he was the one who killed him.”
“Did you learn anything by beating him up?”
“That Sebastian could have taken him with one hand tied behind his back, so the boy didn’t do it.”
Charles resisted throwing Henley’s theory of anger giving even a wimp the strength of ten into the mix, but saw no reason to provoke her into attacking Jason a second time.
“So whom are you going to accost next?” Charles asked.
“I’ve already had a chat with Russell Carlson, but he seems afraid of his own shadow. Is everyone other than yourself on the Opal Campus spineless?”
Not sure that he didn’t fall into that category himself according to Lavinia’s high standard of violence, Charles didn’t answer.
“So are you saying you’ve decided that Carlson didn’t do it?”
She nodded.
“Did you beat him up as well?”
Lavinia smiled and leaned toward Charles. “I don’t approach every man that way.”
Charles suddenly felt warm.
“Actually I could tell that he didn’t have the nerve to do it by just looking at him. The man was scared to death when I turned up in his office. He would never have confronted Sebastian.”
“Who’s left on your list of suspects?”
“Right now the only one with enough guts and maybe enough skill to do it would be Marie Locke. But I can’t figure a motive. She’d already done a pretty good job of cleaning out Sebastian financially.”
Again Charles stayed quiet about Joanna’s theory that Marie might have wanted to have Sebastian out of her daughter’s life.
“He still had those shares in the family business. Who inherits those now that he’s gone?”
Lavinia gave him a sly smile. “Checking to see that I don’t have a motive?”
He shrugged. “Everyone’s a suspect.”
“Actually Tori inherits. Would you consider her a suspect?”
“A very unlikely one.”
“Yeah, even I can’t see her doing it. She may have been angry with Sebastian, but in her own way she still loved him.”
“What about Reggie?”
“Again, no motive. If he would have inherited the shares in the business when Sebastian died, I’d put him near the top of the list. But he doesn’t stand to gain anything. Tori will probably get her business advice from her mom. Reggie might find she interferes in the daily running of the business more than Sebastian ever did.”
“Sebastian didn’t care much about the business?”
“Not generally.” Lavinia’s brow furrowed as if she was trying to recall something. “Once Sebastian saw the way the future was going, he decided there was more to life than piling up money. All the cash in the world won’t do you much good when the war of all against all starts.”
“I guess not. Hobbes was right that you need a certain level of peace before you can accumulate wealth.”
She gave Charles a lingering glance. “Sebastian always was a good judge of men. When he called me for the last time, he told me that he was pretty impressed with you. He said that with the right motivation you could be one of us.” She leaned across the table an gently stroked Charles’ hand. “Maybe I could provide the right motivation.”
“I’m sure you could,” Charles said, withdrawing his hand with a mixture of nervousness and reluctance.
“I got your girlfriend’s permission to go back home for a day or two to take care of some business. You could come along with me and see how you liked getting a new perspective on things.”
“Maybe some other time,” Charles said.
“Suit yourself,” she said, managing to look desireable and annoyed at the same time.
“You know, if you’re going to keep on investigating, you should be careful. There’s a real murderer out there somewhere.”
She reached behind her back and a small automatic appeared in her hand.
“It’s sweet of you to worry, but I’ve got it covered.”
“Do you have a permit to carry that in Massachusetts?” Charles asked.
“If I get in a situation where I have to use it, a permit won’t be the most important issue on my mind.”
Charles sighed.
Lavinia reached over and touched his arm. “You really are a nice guy, Charles, the lieutenant is a lucky woman.”
Lavinia stood up and headed for the door with Charles following close behind. She turned around suddenly in the lobby, and Charles suddenly found himself face to face with her and very close. Without hesitation she leaned forward and gently kissed him on the lips.
“But if you change your mind, don’t hesitate to take me up on my offer.”
Chapter 19
Charles got up early the next morning and made the three hour trip to Boston. Fortunately there was little commuter traffic on a Saturday morning, and he found a parking structure within a short walk of Jack’s office. He went into a building made mostly of glass and took the elevator to the suite of offices occupied by the company for which Jack worked. When he got out of the elevator he was greeted by a young woman who was surprisingly cheerful, considering that she was working on a Saturday morning. Charles told her who he was there to see, and she made a brief phone call. A few seconds later Jack came out into the lobby. He looked tired and a bit overwrought, as if the separation was starting to get to him. However, he cordially shook Charles’ hand and commented on how pleased he was to see him. But all of this bonhomie must have been for the benefit of the receptionist, because once they were behind closed doors in Jack’s office and he was safely behind his desk, his mood swiftly changed.
“So why are you here, Charles? Haven’t you interfered enough in your daughter’s marriage or are you trying to make it as messed up as your own was?”
Charles paused, taking a deep breath and trying to get control over his temper.
“I’m here to try to prevent you from ruining your own marriage. Don’t you understand why Amy wants to work?”
“She only wants to work because you came around and put the idea into her head. Why would she work? I make enough to support all of us just like my Dad did. My mother never worked.”
“Did she want to?”
Jack waved a dismissive hand. “How would I know?”
“Didn’t anyone ever ask her?”
“She was happy taking care of me. That was enough work for her. And raising our boys should be enough for Amy.”
“Well, apparently it isn’t. I guess Amy wants more out of life than your mother had.”
Jack turned livid. “Don’t talk that way about my mother. And I’m going to see a lawyer about exercising my rights to get back into the house.”
Charle sighed. “If you do that, then you will have truly killed your marriage. You’ll have turned it into a battle between yourself and Amy.”
Jack went on as i
f he hadn’t hear Charles. “And half of that inheritance Amy got belongs to me. We share everything.”
“First of all, it isn’t hers, it belongs to your sons. And secondly if you get lawyers involved, I’ll recommend that Amy get her own lawyer and file for a legal separation.”
Jack rushed around the desk. He came up close to Charles, who thought he smelled alchohol on his breath.
“You stay out of this,” he ordered, poking Charles in the chest in rhythm with each word.
Charles reached out and grabbed his finger. He quickly bent it back until it made a satisfyingly loud snap. Jack turned pale. Cradling his injured hand close to his body, he sank back to sit on his desk.
“I’m going to call the police,” Jack whispered. “You assaulted me.”
“You might want to think twice about that. The Commonwealth of Massachusetts doesn’t look kindly upon assault committed against people over the age of sixty. I might end up being congratulated for my heroic act of self-defense.”
“Get out,” Jack said through teeth clenched in pain.
“You should get that finger splinted,” Charles advised, as he turned to leave the office.
“Did you have a good meeting?” the receptionist asked cheerfully as he headed for the elevator.
“It had its moments,” Charles replied.
Charles drove the half hour to Amy’s house. She opened the door with an anxious expression, and immediately wanted to hear what had happened in his conversation with Jack. Charles told her the story, trying to keep his voice neutral. He had expected her to be horrified when he told her about breaking Jack’s finger, but instead she laughed. She was furious however that her husband had dared to attack Charles.
“You were just trying to help. I think he’s going off the rails,” she said. “But I’m not too surprised. He always had a tendency to be a bully.”
“Did he ever hit you?” Charles asked, wishing he’d broken Jack’s other nine fingers.
“No, nothing like that. He isn’t even much of a shouter. But he’s a world class sulker. If he doesn’t get his own way, he can bring down the whole house for days at a time by hardly talking and refusing to respond to myself or the boys. I suppose it’s the adult equivalent of holding your breath until you turn red.”
“Sounds rather immature.”
Amy shrugged. “His parent spoiled him. Sometimes I think they ruined him for life.”
“What are you going to do next?”
“If Jack really intends to escalate this whole thing through legal channels, I guess I’d better get a jump on him. My friend Samantha’s husband is a divorce lawyer. I’ll get an appointment with him to find out what my rights are, and what the next move is that I should make. I wouldn’t put it past Jack to try to get custody of the boys in some way.”
“And try to get control over the inheritance,” Charles said.
“I don’t care about the money for myself, but it belongs to the boys. So I’m not about to let Jack get his hands on it.”
“I wish I could have been more help at smoothing things over. I’m afraid that I’ve just made everything worse by losing my temper.”
“It sounds to me like the Dalai Lama couldn’t have gotten Jack to see reason. He’s worked himself up into such a state that no one can make him put things into perspective. I always knew that he was a bit of a control freak, but I never thought he’d take it this far.”
Charles climbed to his feet. “Yes, well, I’d better be getting back. I’ve got a long drive in front of me.”
“How is your murder investigation going?” Amy asked, as they walked to the door.
“No much progress so far. There are a few suspects, but nothing definitive.”
“I can’t believe you’re getting involved in that sort of thing again. “When you were teaching you were always sort of removed from the real world, kind of dreamy. And breaking Jack’s finger, your were never one to violate the rules of good behavior like that before.”
“Are you saying that my involvement in solving crimes is making me inclined to be a criminal myself?” Charles said, smiling.
“Since you put it that way, do you think it is?”
Charles paused at the doorway to give it some serious thought. Finally he shook his head.
“I think it’s being older. I’m starting to believe that to get results you sometimes have to be willing to bend the rules.”
“That sounds dangerously like the ends justifying the means.”
“Perhaps sometimes that is the case. But a women I was interviewing recently said that I’m a nice man, so maybe I haven’t been too corrupted.”
Amy leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek. “Never doubt it, Dad, you are a nice man.”
“But do nice men break people’s fingers?”
“Only when they need to be broken.”
Chapter 20
By the time he returned home it was late afternoon and he was tired. He thought it was partly due to the trip, and partly due to coming down emotionally from his rather violent confrontation with Jack the Philistine. Truth to tell, he was more disturbed than he had let on to Amy about breaking Jack’s finger. He’d always prided himself on valuing reason and compromise over violent force. But he hadn’t hesitated, when he had been rather mildly provoked, to escalate the violence. Was he changing? Was the desire to break people’s bones a sign of the onset of dementia? Or was it the begining of a descent into adolescence as evidenced by his bizarre attraction to Lavinia, who had danger written all over her? And what about his willingness to get involved in amateur detection? Was he a superannuated boy detective with an oversized libido? Or was it undersized given his fear of going further with Joanna?
The last question stuck in his mind because he was supposed to go over to Joanna’s tonight for dinner, and he was a bit nervous because their relationship had reached the point where sex might be in the offing so to speak. It had been a long time for him, and he had some doubts about his ability to perform. Before his wife’s death, they hadn’t had sex in some time. He thought she had just lost interest, but after her death he had found out that she’d had a woman lover. So rather than losing insterest, she transferred her affection to another. But the question was why had he allowed them to drift into a sexless relationship? Was his lack of interest just the inevitable result of getting older or should he see a doctor? He knew there were medicines for such things, but what if the problem were more psychological than physical. He sat down in his favorite recliner to mull over the matter of his declining sexuality and promptly dozed off.
The ring of his landline awoke him from a sound sleep. Disoriented, it took him a moment to become aware of what was happening. Finally he lurched across the room and answered the phone.
“Hello, Charles, I thought for a moment you weren’t going to answer,” a woman’s voice said.
“Who is this?” Charles mumbled.
“I’m hurt you don’t recognize my voice. It’s Lavinia.”
“How did you get my number?”
“You’re in the phone book, Charles,” she said patiently. “I told you that the last time.’
“Oh, right. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you could stop by to see me in about half an hour.”
“Aren’t you up in Vermont?”
“Nope, I’m back at the Opalsville Inn. It was a quick trip. I found what I was looking for right away.”
“And what was that?” Charles asked.
There was a long pause. “Look, there’s someone I have to talk to first. Could you come by in about an hour?”
Charles checked his watch. That would be right at the time he was expected at Joanna’s for dinner. He was torn as to what to do, then he decided that solving the case was more important than being on time.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he said. “Where should we meet?”
“How about in the same place as last time. The small room at the back of the hotel lobby.”
Charles agreed. After hanging up, he immediately called Joanna.
“I may be a little bit late,” he told her after saying hello.
“Why is that?” she asked in a hard tone he had only heard her use in the interrogation room.
“Lavinia Cole wants to see me.”
“I’m sure she does, but why does that rank above being on time for our date?”
“I think she has some information that is pertinent to the death of Sebastian Locke.”
“Did she say that?”
Charles took a deep breath. He could see why suspects didn’t like being questioned by Joanna.
“She implied it.”
Joanna’s voice softened. “If she does, maybe I should come along with you.”
Here was the delicate part, Charles thought. “I think she’ll be more open if I come alone.”
“Okay, Charles, have your little tryst, but you’d better come back with some solid information useful to the case. And you’d better be here before my roast has dried to shoe leather. Do you understand?”
“Absolutely.”
Charle hung up, feeling as if his ear had been singed. He dressed with extra care for his date with Joanna, although on some level he was also aware that he wanted to impress Lavinia. Silly old man, he said to himself, Lavinia would eat you alive, and Joanna will as well if you screw up this date. By the time he was ready, it was time to go.
The sun was barely above the horizon as he made his way to Opalsville, but by the time he got there it was dusk, and he needed to turn on the headlights to see the road. Charles pulled into the parking lot of the Inn. Because it was a Saturday night in the fall there were more than the usual number of guests staying there, and the parking lot was quite full. Charles finally found a spot toward the back of the lot, and began walking toward the building. He was wondering whether the room they had met in before would still be available on such a busy evening.
“Charles,” someone called out to him as he walked under a light.
He turned to his left and saw Lavinia leaning back against a car. He walked toward her.
“Do you want us to meet out here because it will be more private?” he asked as he drew close. Instead of responding she slid down the side of the car and onto the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked, rushing over and reaching under her to try to lift her up. All he got in response was a faint groan, and when he removed his hand from her back it was covered with blood.