by Millie Mack
TriCity was a point on the map where the counties of Allwin, Dorchester, and St. Thomas all touched. It grew from a crossroad stop where farmers traded and sold goods into a metropolitan city supporting the work force for the entire area.
Carrie’s trip was boring, tiring, and unending. She found herself measuring her progress by the number of rest stops she passed. Every forty to fifty miles, the road offered services for the traveler. Some were full-service stops including restaurants and repair garages; others offered fast food and self-service gas. After wasting time at two rest stops and drinking more coffee than she cared to measure, Carrie realized she had to concentrate on her driving in order to make the church service.
She zipped back onto the expressway and pressed her foot down on the gas until she achieved the speed limit and even a little more. She noticed another car followed her onto the expressway from the rest stop and was now keeping pace with her. When she passed a car, this car passed with her and then returned to a position behind her. Carrie didn’t like someone pacing her, so she decided to stay in her lane and slow down. Traffic was light, and the car had plenty of room to speed on its way. Finally, when no other cars were in sight, the car made a move to pass.
When the car drew alongside, Carrie couldn’t help but look over. She could discern there were two men in the front seat, but saw little else since the windows were heavily tinted. Instead of passing, the car started to encroach into her lane. She slowed down and moved more to the right, but the car moved with her.
Carrie was suddenly frightened. What was this car doing? When she sped up, the car sped up. When she slowed down, it did the same and then tried to move into her lane. Carrie didn’t know what to do. The car once again moved alongside her car and was edging closer and closer when, out of nowhere, a deep, resounding blast of a truck horn broke the silence. Carrie jumped in her seat, and the menacing car cut sharply in front of her and sped ahead. As Carrie moved to the right to avoid being hit, her tires caught the edge of the shoulder, and she momentarily lost control. Her car careened off the road and ran along the grass, barely missing a ditch before she was able to get it under control and come to a halt. The trucker who honked his horn pulled his truck off the highway and ran back to assist her.
He waited until she opened the window before yelling, “Lady, you okay?”
“Yes, I thhinnk so,” she stuttered.
“What the heck was going on? Did you know that other car?”
“No, never saw it before. I guess it was just someone having a little sport.”
“Well, playing games on the highway is a dangerous…” The driver didn’t finish his sentence as a state trooper car with flashing lights pulled up behind them.
By the time Carrie convinced the trooper and the truck driver she was fine and ready to continue her journey, she realized she would never make the church service on time. She decided to go straight to the cemetery.
4
Woodhaven was the largest and oldest cemetery in TriCity and occupied the north, south, and east corners of a major intersection. The Faraday plot was in North Woodhaven, which was the most desirable location because of a large pond located near the center of the property. The pond was fed by a creek, and the sound of the babbling water provided a serenity that the other two locations didn’t offer.
Carrie knew the section well because she, Jamie, and their friends spent many a cold winter’s night skating on the pond. One night while skating, Jamie showed Carrie the family burial plots. He stretched out on the ground in front of a family tombstone.
“Well, what do you think? How do I look? Peaceful?”
“Jamie, get up from there! You’re going to catch cold.”
“Regardless of what the family thinks of me now, I think I’ll fit in nicely when I join them in this spot.”
Carrie shook off a chill as she turned into the main entrance of the cemetery.
The Faraday procession wasn’t hard to find. A snake of dark luxury cars were parked around a circle, with the tail of the snake backing down the hill. Carrie’s blue sports car made a colorful end to the snake’s tail.
She used the mirror in her sun visor to check her makeup. She applied a fresh coat of lipstick and checked her hair. That was the one nice thing about her short, naturally curly hair: a quick run of her fingers through her hair would straighten the stray locks. Not bad for a woman in her late forties. She thought.
The burial site was located at the highest point in the cemetery. By the time Carrie walked up the hill, a crowd was formed tightly around the gravesite. But that was okay with her. This was one time when having a front-row view held no attraction for her.
Carrie positioned herself to see between the heads of the crowd. On the opposite side from where she was standing were four people seated on folding chairs. She recognized Jamie’s mother, Geraldine Faraday. She sat up straight in her chair. She looked frail, unlike the formidable woman Carrie remembered. Next to her was a young boy. As she was able to position herself to get a better look at the boy, Carrie let out a slight gasp. The boy was a younger image of how she remembered Jamie: the same square cut of the jaw and the soft-brown, wavy hair that fell across his forehead. There was no doubt in her mind this was Christopher. On the other side of Geraldine was a tall, distinguished, good-looking man with silver hair. Despite all the thick, silver hair, the man had a young face. Once more, Carrie angled her position. Could it be Charles, Jamie’s older brother? She wondered. That silver hair gives him a distinguished look… Her thought trailed. She wondered if Jamie had silver hair. What was she thinking? Her hair was probably silver if it weren’t for the number ten hair color she periodically applied to her own curls.
Seated next to Charles was a wispy blonde. It was hard to determine her age since the brim of a large black hat covered most of her face. Maybe this is Charles’s wife, thought Carrie. While the family showed no emotion, this woman was openly crying and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. I don’t believe Charles’s wife would be this emotional. Wait! Could this be Suzanne, Jamie’s assistant? Carrie couldn’t bring herself to think the word “fiancée.”
Carrie looked around and surveyed the other attendees. She spotted a man in the second row who she was sure was Joel. Next to Joel were two other men who were extremely well tailored and looked like they might be lawyers, In fact most of the men were older with gray hair and looked like they could be lawyers. She didn’t recognize anyone else, but she did notice one other man. Not because she knew him, but because of where he was standing. He stood away from the group on an incline that led to the next section of plots. The man was tall and lanky and probably in his late thirties. He wore a black all-weather coat, unbuttoned, with a dark blue suit beneath it. He had a dark hat, but she noticed no hair showed below it.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
There was a slight hum as the motorized mechanism started to lower the casket. Mrs. Faraday, Christopher, Charles, and Suzanne approached the opening in the earth, and each placed a rose on the lowering casket.
Moments later, the entire ceremony was over. The crowd began to disperse as the cemetery crew drew closer, waiting to do their final work. Carrie turned and moved with the rest of the crowd toward the parked cars.
“Carrie, Carrie, wait a moment.” She turned to face a man hurrying after her. As he drew closer, she knew it was Joel Wheeler. Aside from his hair, which was cut short with gray at the temples, and about thirty additional pounds, Joel Wheeler looked the same. He was still a big, strapping fellow, with a gait to match.
“You made it!” he bellowed, with a big smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I was worried you weren’t going to come, especially when I didn’t see you at the church.”
“The traffic was much worse than I expected.” Carrie didn’t want to go into details about the car incident.
“Sometimes I wonder how we can get anywhere. It seems every street is congested with traffic.” Joel accepted her excuse without question. �
��I’m really glad to see you, although I wish it wasn’t at a funeral.”
“I wish the circumstances were different, too, but thanks again for calling me.”
“Funeral or not, we really do have a lot of catching up to do,” Joel said. “As soon as the formalities are over, you and I need to spend some time…”
Joel’s words were interrupted as Charles Faraday came up behind him. “Joel, excuse me, we need to discuss the Carrie situation. I thought you said she would be here?” Charles’ question was direct but delivered in a very calm even tone.
“And so she is.” Joel’s body was blocking Carrie, so he moved slightly to the right. “Charles, you remember Carrie Kingsford?” It was obvious Joel was enjoying putting one over on Charles.
Carrie forgot how tall Charles was as she looked up into his face. Carrie was always pleased with her five-foot-eight height, but next to Charles’s six-foot-two frame, she felt small.
“Oh, hello, Carrie,” he stammered. After an awkward moment of silence, Charles continued, “I’m sorry if I sounded cranky a moment ago, but I knew you missed the church service, and, well…I didn’t see you at the gravesite.”
“Hello, Charles.” She extended her hand. “I was delayed in traffic, so I came straight to the cemetery.” Charles took her hand and held it gently in his.
“I’m glad you decided to come.”
“I told you she was coming,” Joel interjected.
They both ignored Joel as Carrie continued, “I’m sorry about Jamie’s death. I know it must be very difficult for you and your mother.”
“It’s been difficult, especially for Mother. The natural order expects children to outlive their parents.”
Carrie realized Charles was still holding her hand, and she gently withdrew it. “You were saying you needed to decide about my situation?”
“There is no situation, now that you’re here,” Charles said with a warm smile. “We can easily follow Jamie’s instructions.”
“You mean the reading of the will?”
“Yes, the will, but my brother also left you a letter.” Charles looked at Joel. “Joel, you did tell Carrie about the letter?”
“I did. I told her Simpson is holding a letter for her,” Joel defended.
Carrie looked from Joel to Charles. “Do you know what’s in the letter?”
“No idea,” Charles answered, “but since we consider the circumstances of Jamie’s death suspicious, we’re hoping his letter sheds some light on what he was doing.”
“Hello, my dear. It has been a long time,” Said a soft genteel voice. Carrie turned and faced Geraldine Faraday as she extended her hand.
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Faraday. I’m so sorry about Jamie.”
Mrs. Faraday had weathered the years well. Her skin was tight, and she looked much younger than a woman in her seventies.
Carrie barely finished her sentence when Mrs. Faraday turned to the blonde who was walking toward them, holding onto Christopher’s arm. “Suzanne, you and Christopher wait for us in the car.” Suzanne started to protest, but then turned and followed Christopher to the waiting limousine.
Mrs. Faraday turned back to Carrie. “Carrie, of course you will be staying with us. Jamie asked us to extend every courtesy to you. You remember how to find the house?”
“Jamie asked you? How did he…?”
“We also received a letter from Jamie. He asked us to make sure we reached out to you and have you stay at our home.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I think a hotel would suit me…”
“It’s settled then,” Mrs. Faraday said, ignoring Carrie’s protest. “We are serving a luncheon at the house, and I have guests waiting. I’ll expect to see you and Joel there shortly.”
Charles took his mother’s arm and led her to the limousine.
Carrie turned back to Joel. “I guess I’m staying with the Faradays.”
“Some battles aren’t worth the fight,” Joel offered. “Hey, can I ride with you? I rode with the family this morning, and my car is parked at their house.”
“Sure, you can help me find my way to the stately old mansion,” Carrie said as she unlocked the door of her car. Joel slid into the passenger seat.
“You shouldn’t look harshly upon Mrs. Faraday. After all, she’s old school, and the old school never forgets the rules for proper behavior.” He turned to face her. “Of course, you never approved of the old school, did you?”
“I’m afraid you’ve got it backwards. The old school never approved of me.”
“Do you think if they approved, it would have made a difference for you and Jamie?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That would be an easy excuse to explain away life’s little twists. Over the years, I realized that Jamie and I weren’t really meant for each other.”
“Really? You two always seemed so close. You don’t think you could have worked things out?”
“We were close. We were caring, fiercely loyal, loved each other, but we weren’t in love.” For the first time, Carrie expressed what she knew in her heart to be true.
“You certainly didn’t seem that way at the time. Don’t forget to take a left at the next road,” Joel prompted.
Carrie turned into a street lined with large old oak trees. Set back several hundred feet from the street were large homes. Each home was different from the next, but all were of a good size and design.
“As I remember, the house is near the end of the street.” Carrie was glad the ride and conversation were nearly over.
“Yup, third house from the end on the left. Since you’re one of the overnight guests,” he said with a slight sarcasm, “you should park behind the house near the garage.”
Carrie maneuvered around the other cars along the edge of the driveway and found a parking spot on the concrete pad next to the garage.
“This is where Jamie worked,” Joel said, pointing to the garage as they emerged from Carrie’s car.
“Jamie worked in the garage?” Carrie asked with surprise.
“Not literally in the garage. He converted the area over the garage into a studio.”
Carrie gazed upward at the windows and for a moment imagined Jamie working at his desk.
Joel sensed Carrie was deep in thought and waited before he suggested, “We better go in.”
5
Joel and Carrie entered through a set of French doors at the side of the house. They stepped into a large room already crowded with people talking and eating. On the far side of the room was a fireplace nestled between two floor-to-ceiling bookcases. A large crackling fire warmed the room. In the middle was a seating area with two overstuffed sofas and four leather chairs sharing space on a thick Oriental rug. Several groups of people who were engaged in conversations around the room looked up when Joel and Carrie entered.
“Joel, are you sure it is all right for us to enter this way?” asked Carrie.
“We missed the official reception line at the front door, but you were officially welcomed at the cemetery. Besides, this is where the food and beverages are,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Now, don’t worry. You make yourself comfortable, or should I say right at home, and I’ll let everyone know we are here. Give me your car keys and I’ll have your luggage taken to your room.” Joel accepted her keys and made his way through the crowd and out into the hallway.
Carrie moved farther into the room and captured a glass of wine from a passing tray. She found herself standing near two women of Mrs. Faraday’s age.
“It seems such a shame. He just arrived home.”
“Yes, and he was finally settling down,” the second woman added.
“It continues to amaze me how well he did. You know, he barely made it through high school. He had to attend TriCity State College because his grades were so low. But then he got that second degree from a top journalism school and one award after another for his work.”
“Well, as I always say, good family lines are inherited. In some children it just takes a litt
le longer before they appear.”
Carrie moved away and heard a second conversation between a man and a woman.
“What will happen to his son? I hear he’s just like his father was at that age. A little on the wild side,” offered the woman.
“Geraldine and Charles should send him to a good military boarding school. I always say discipline is the way…”
Carrie tuned out the conversation and selected a grilled chicken quesadilla triangle with a tangy salsa from one of the food tables. She picked up the food item as a distraction from the surrounding conversations and then realized she was quite hungry. Carrie looked over the assortment of food. There was grilled fillet of beef on a stick, bite-size crab cakes, cut vegetables, and a display of caviar. My, my, thought Carrie, little TriCity has become quite cosmopolitan, offering caviar at its functions. She fixed herself a toast point of black fish eggs topped with a dollop of sour cream. She popped the delicacy in her mouth and was debating what to select next when she overheard pieces of another conversation. She maneuvered closer to the conversation by pretending to stare at the crackling flames in the fireplace.
“I hear the death is still classified as suspicious.”
“Was there alcohol in the blood?”
“Not enough to account for the drowning.” The two men talking were both in their late fifties and were the same two men standing next to Joel at the funeral. One man was thin, medium height, and balding, in an exquisite dark charcoal gray suit, while the other man was tall with salt-and-pepper hair, a matching moustache, and silver-rimmed glasses. Both men exuded a sense of wealth or “old” money that Carrie associated with the Faradays.
“One of my sources at the medical examiner’s office said there was a contusion on his head.”
“Jamie could have hit his head on the pier when he went into the water,” suggested the man in the charcoal suit.
“It’s a possibility,” the other man said as he rubbed the end of his chin. “You know, the police have taken all these odd little circumstances and wrapped them in a neat little package. I hate neat little packages. I think they want it to be accidental.”