He continued, “A recipe for disaster if you ask me. Oh and there was also Ken Craig and his wife Gwen…both found to have blood-alcohol levels off the charts. They were heading back from a bar here in town,” he pointed to The Mohawk Tavern across the road, “It was a snowy evening. You and I both know that road leading up to your driveway is a rough one to navigate under any conditions. Wait until you try it in a snow storm.”
Julien was relentless, “And the missing priest…his sister?”
“We can do this all day, Julien. If you ask me…that fall from the ladder…I’m beginning to suspect I should have sent you to a neurologist.” The doctor tapped at his own temple mockingly.
He remembers the ladder.
Lind asked, “Am I forgetting anyone?”
“Yes, the priest.”
“How would I know? He was never sick a day to my knowledge…at least not during his time at the Victorian. Never met the man but once or twice. Never met his sister either. Insurance scam perhaps? Some sort of scandal? Perhaps he had a lover? I can’t help you with that one. People run off all the time.”
Julien pressed on. “The D’Anna’s?”
“You are making a fool out of yourself,” the doctor scorned.
Julien remembered Rachael’s expression from their argument on the porch. “Humor me.” By now, he was sure the doctor would have a rehearsed answer for anything he threw at him, but he wanted to see how far he could push.
“Let’s see…Santo, right?” he asked, feigning forgetfulness. “Yes, Santo. He got his pant leg caught up on the tractor pedals, took a fall right off the seat…brain damage…a stroke. Died at the hospital two days later. The daughter…severe case of Lyme disease…ended up with respiratory paralysis. I sent her up to a hospital in Albany but she didn’t pull through...a weak immune system perhaps. The mother…if you ask me, she died of heartbreak, but those are the words of an old country doctor who also happens to be a hopeless romantic. Clinically? She suffered kidney failure when her body shut down from starving herself after Donna, her daughter, passed away. I put her on a sedative, but she was an older Italian woman…a tad over-dramatic for my patience level,” He waved a hand dismissively through the air, “Did nothing but throw herself on the casket at the funeral, wailing away. She collapsed on her property. My own daughter found her one morning while tending to the chickens. A woman with a disposition like that and at her age, doesn’t need much of an excuse to give up and die”
“Celest Combs?”
Enough, Julien.” The doctor wrinkled his face in repugnance. “She fell! She fell from a ladder picking apples in the orchard. She supplied pies for one of the bakeries in Cobleskill a few towns away.” Lind picked up his wine and scoffed, “Julien…accidents happen…you, of all people, should know that. People die…people get sick. You have been looking for something to be wrong with that property from the day I met you. Why did you buy it?”
Julien huffed with a smile born of disgust,“I’m not sure I did.” He admitted and walked away.
The doctor waited until Julien was halfway across the road then called after him, “Glad my daughter was able to work her magic on that leg, Mr. Grenier.”
Julien stopped in the middle of the road turning back slowly.
Lind winked and added, “She’s quite the little miracle worker, my Sarah. Just treat her well and she’ll always be there for you.” The doctor stepped into his office and slammed the door. .
Julien stood watching the door for a long moment. A horn blared and he jumped, startled nearly out of his skin. He took a step back, allowing the car to move past him then turned to head for his bike. He had one more stop to make and having already talked to two of her relatives today, he was sure Arlette would be expecting him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Julien flew past his usual left turn leading up the driveway to the Victorian and instead headed in the opposite direction en route to Arlette Vandermark’s office. He felt satisfaction in having ruffled Dr. Lind’s feathers yet fearful of what such a confrontation could root. Lind’s last words, confidently bellowed for all to hear, felt like a dare and Julien was only at the tip of the iceberg of realizations. The events at the Victorian were not such that he could enlist someone else’s help. He imagined himself walking into a police station and attempting to explain what he and Rachael were experiencing since their move to Kings Hollow. He would surely end up in a bed next to Margaret Hourglass, institutionalized and classified insane. He could probably find an organization to investigate the real-estate fraud, but that would open them up to Arlette’s retaliation and in turn, joining the long list of missing and deceased ex-tenants of Arlette’s property. The more he dissected the bind they were in, the more hopeless he began to feel. For a fleeting moment he thought to turn his bike around and return home to formulate a more solid plan before taking any further actions, but a silver Mercedes sped past him in the opposite direction interrupting his thought.
Arlette?
That was Arlette.
His immediate inclination was to not follow her. Perhaps it was paranoia having its way with him, but he could easily imagine Arlette running him off the road. He drove his bike for another eighth of a mile before he could safely pull into a convenience store parking lot. He tucked the bike at the rear where he lit a cigarette and bought himself some time to think. His hands were shaky and his chest felt tight with anxiety.
I am too old for this…all of this.
You’re only forty-five, not eighty-five.
This would be too much for anyone…at any age.
We could fly to Paris…runaway.
Maybe Father Boyle did runaway…
Rachael would never go. She’s too caught up in this.
I could fly to Paris alone. Leave right now.
The baby…Rachael…
His mind ran the gamut of scenarios, none of which seemed feasible. Satisfied he had allowed for enough time between he and Arlette, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and was about to start the bike when his cell phone rang.
“’allo?”
“Dude, it’s Matt…”
Julien ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Bad timing, Matthew.
“Matt, ça va…what’s up?” Julien drummed his fingers nervously on the bike.
“Not much, just sitting here looking at a printout Phil handed me a few minutes ago. I guess you went into the security check program recently.”
“Oh, yes. I used it to check some information on a potential client. Is this a problem? Tell Phil I will call him…”
“Nah, dude, Phil’s fine. Doesn’t look like potential clients on this printout though. It looks like you were searching for a shit-wad of information on your property. Phil was just concerned, is all. Everything’s okay up there? Something up with the house?”
“Wow…” Julien’s mind raced. “I feel like I’m being monitored,” Julien said with an air of contempt.
“Well, you access a restricted company program…there’s bound to be questions. I don’t think he’s pitchin’ a bitch or anything. He really did sound concerned…maybe a little curious.”
Julien lit another smoke and took a long drag. “Matt,” he desperately wanting to ask for help, but how? “Everything is fine. I was doing some research on the house. Getting a little bored up here I guess.”
He changed the subject asking, “How are Lily and the kids?”
“Everybody’s great man, thanks. How’s the leg?”
“Great. Better. Healed. Listen, I am in the parking lot of a grocery store and I need to head home. Can I give you a call in the next day or two?”
“Yeah, sure, go back to what you were doing and we’ll talk over the weekend or something,” he agreed and then added, “Hey Jules, if you need anything…like if anything is going on…call me. Cool?”
“Yeah, yeah, will do. Everything’s good, Matt. I will call you.” Julien flipped his phone closed and slipped it back into his pocket. If h
e wanted to get home in time to confront Arlette he would have to push the speedometer. He gunned the Indian and roared out from the lot lost in contemplation.
He reached the winding road and revved power beneath his wheels taking the mountain at top speed. He was two-thirds of the way to the top when Jérome reached out from the trees and narrowly missed him. The rear wheel of the bike veered to the left, skidding along the pitted top layer of dried dirt baked to a loose dust by the summer heat. Julien fought the momentum and righted the bike just as the rear wheel clipped the cliff’s edge. Jérome appeared again, now directly ahead in the middle of the road at the mouth of the driveway.
He’s not real.
He’s not there.
He is there…
You have felt how real he is.
Sarah’s angry…
She must be angry.
He sat tight planting his weight deep into the seat then gunned the bike and broke straight through Jérome and onto the gravel. The rearview mirror framed only scenery—no sign of his father. Julien turned to look over his shoulder, but Jérome was gone. He glanced toward the barn and could clearly see two thin paths of flattened grass leading to the far side of the outbuilding where the bumper of Arlette’s Mercedes was barely visible. Julien cut the engine and walked his bike off the driveway abandoning it before rushing across the grass alongside the tire marks.
He approached the barn door; the distance he had crossed worsening the subtle limp he had yet to recover from. He stood listening. Winded, the sound of his own breath distorted Arlette’s words but not her coercive tone. He leaned back against the outer wall and tried to quiet his lungs. He could make out only fragmented portions of Arlette’s lecture, but was able to piece the argument together.
“It’s time, Sarah…now…worked the same way…you get to play…things get out of control…cause trouble…playtime is over…new toys soon…always more for you to play with.”
There was a long pause and he began to worry that Arlette had detected his presence. He fully expected the real-estate agent to appear at the door. He was greatly relieved when she continued. His breathing had quieted now and he could make out her words more clearly.
“I don’t understand what is so different about these people,” she asserted, her voice taking on a stern edge. “You just remember that without me there is no place for you to play. You have to follow the rules, Sarah. Do you want to be punished again?”
Julien heard Sarah’s muffled sobs. He stepped into the barn without hesitation. Arlette had Sarah cornered by the coop door. She glanced over her shoulder. Her posture grew rigid and tall, she moved toward him. Julien stopped at the center of the barn. He looked past Arlette to Sarah who was rubbing the side of her face; an angry red mark, which could have either been delivered by Arlette, or self-inflicted by Sarah’s repetitive gestures. The girl seemed reluctant to look at Julien. He thought of Jérome on the road and reasoned that Sarah had become enraged, possibly in trouble for his actions, sending Jérome onto his path with a vengence, but now she seemed nothing but submissive.
Arlette watched Julien studying her niece then stepped closer until there was no more than a foot between them.
“Julien, I’m told you wanted to speak with me.”
Julien broke his gaze from Sarah and turned his attention to Arlette. “We don’t own the house, do we?” he asked wasting no time.
Arlette paused again holding her stare. “You’re living on the property, are you not?”
“Arlette, cut the shit. I don’t know what went on with the previous tenants, but I know we do not own this house! Whatever your deal is with the bank, whatever you think you’re doing—”
She interjected, “Grant already made a few phone calls. If you would wait until next week, we’re sure we can have the problem resolved by then. The internet is a sloppy tool, Julien. It can take time for all the various sites to update current information.”
“We never received our deed.”
Arlette pawed furiously through her Coach purse and produced an envelope.
“I’ve been meaning to bring this over to you, but, quite frankly, I am a busy woman.” She slapped the envelope against his chest.
Julien saw the mail was addressed in his name but to Arlette’s office. He opened it quickly and scanned the documents.
Arlette resituated her purse over her shoulder and hugged it to her side beneath her arm.
“Albany must have inverted our information. With the addresses being the same rural route… well, I don’t know how these things happen, but they do, and quite honestly, I am insulted by your accusations and insistence that I am anything but professional, Mr. Grenier.”
Julien took his time looking through the paperwork. The documents appeared to be an official house deed naming him the owner of the Victorian and its acreage. Julien’s mind began to whirl. He felt a hint of doubt, his confidence waning…
She’s lying! The deed is fake.
Am I wrong? Could I be wrong?
But what about Sarah?
What about what I just overheard?
“This documentation is fake, Arlette,” he held his ground.
The worst you can be is wrong.
“You probably whipped this together right before rushing up here. By now you have an answer for everything. You’ve worked out the kinks in this game you play. You could docteur the Declaration of Independence and no one would know the difference.”
Arlette narrowed her eyes. She was floored by what was either a lack of fear or sheer stupidity on Julien’s part. She had to give him one thing: he managed to catch on to their secrets faster than anyone who had occupied the home in the past. He was also the only one not to be caught up in the wishbones.
Julien pointed a finger at her; he stepped closer, forcing her to edge backward.
“I can’t even put into words what is going on up here. Sarah…the coop…the fraud. Whatever you have been getting away with is going to end now! I have told half-a-dozen people what we’ve experienced here and they’re all sitting down in the city thinking I’ve lost my mind, but let me make it clear…as crazy as they think I am right now, if they don’t hear from me for a while, they’re going to make noise for you, Arlette,” he threatened. “You can’t stop everyone. You can’t stop people you don’t even know exist.”
Now it was Arlette’s turn to stand her ground. She stepped forward but Julien refused to back away.
“Ahh, but you’re forgetting Julien…it’s all how you word the wish. I can see to it that you never existed. Or worse, I can see to it that you do exist…for a very long time…and in a very sad state—Rachael and that beautiful baby too.”
She’s right.
She can.
Arlette turned to Sarah and glared at her. “Do it!” she growled through gritted teeth.
Julien panicked.
Do what?
“Sarah, don’t!” Julien commanded. His only hope was that Sarah would show him mercy.
Arlette barked, “Sarah!” She pointed at Julien.
Sarah suddenly appeared smaller, weaker than she ever seemed before; she shook her head violently as she banged it against the coop wall repeatedly, hard enough to echo throughout the structure. The chickens cackled loudly as she began to mumble to herself.
Arlette snapped again, “Damn you, Sarah, show him!” She stormed in the girl’s direction and Sarah dropped to the ground, her eyes shut tight, humming louder.
Julien took a step forward wanting to get between Arlette and Sarah, but before he could make a move he felt his leg give out and fell to the ground in agony. He could feel each healed fracture in his leg take on stress and threaten to re-fracture.
Satisfied, Arlette walked back to him. He lay there suffering at her feet. She crouched down over him and spoke softly.
“She will always do as I tell her. Children love all of their toys for a time, Julien, but eventually they grow bored with them.”
Julien used every ounce of adrenalin
coursing through his body to pull himself up onto one knee. Arlette rising up along with him.
“Do you need some help, Julien,” she asked with a smirk. “You know, if you had just kept that mouth shut you could have enjoyed…reaped in the benefits of my niece’s gifts. You and your wife could have had a much longer stay.”
Julien, his hands bracing him in the dirt, turned to the girl. “Sarah,” he begged. “She can’t hurt you. You’re stronger—”
Arlette’s voice rose again drowning out his weakened plea, “Don’t make promises about things you don’t understand, Julien. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She attempted to step between them, blocking Sarah from his field of vision.
Julien’s eyes found Sarah again; the terrified girl huddled by the coop door. He could see the pity she felt for him. The pain was beginning to dissipate but he didn’t let on, hoping this would bring Sarah to his side all the more.
“Please, Sarah…please help me,” his voice broke.
Sarah stayed low to the ground, paused, then scrambled toward him like a sorrowful dog who mistakenly bit its owner.
“Don’t you dare!” Arlette screached. Sarah scurried back by the coop door; she sat rocking and pounding her fist against her forehead.
Julien struggled and got to his feet. “You won’t get away with this forever, Arlette.” With each painful step, he made his way to Sarah who threw herself onto him wrapping her arms tightly around his leg like a small child. He placed his hand on the top of her head, both to steady himself and to comfort her.
Arlette smirked, “Aw, look at you two…puppy and master.” She walked a few steps closer, “GET UP!” she bellowed. “We’re leaving, Sarah.”
Sarah flinched and clung tighter to Julien. He thought he might black out from the still throbbing pain, but he took a deep breath and regained his composure. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Arlette stormed toward them and grabbed a handful of Sarah’s disheveled hair. The girl screamed as Julien took hold of Arlette’s fragile wrist and jerked it up through the air. He threw her arm back against her chest; she stumbled backward. He pried Sarah’s grip from his leg and lifted her, moving her petite frame behind him.
WISHBONE Page 25