by Fay Robinson
“We’re both very sorry, Carolyn. If there’s anything we can do to help, please call me.”
“I will. Thank you.”
After meeting her husband, Lucky and Jack followed Shannon through the receiving line and spoke to others in the family. Carolyn was an only child, but Charlie Bagwell had two sisters, who had come in from out of town.
Jack leaned close. “Daredevil?” he asked Lucky in a low voice. “Partner in crime?”
“In my younger years I was a little wild.”
“How so?”
“The only kids in the neighborhood my age were boys, and they became my best friends—Larry, Bomber, Ari and Deaton.”
“Bomber?”
“He liked to blow things up,” she explained.
“I thought you spent most of your time at the cabin with your grandparents.”
“I did on weekends and in the summer, but during the week I was stuck at Mom and Dad’s, where Cal had his own buddies and Shannon and Leigh thought they were too cool to have anything to do with me.”
“We were too cool,” Shannon threw over her shoulder.
“These boys were all fearless, so I pretended I was, too. All they had to do was accuse me of acting like a girl and I’d do any stupid thing. It’s a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves.”
“Or end up in jail,” Shannon said. Having gone through the receiving line, they moved to the corner, out of the way. “We were certain that Deaton, at the very least, would someday be named to the FBI’s Most Wanted list, although Lucky was almost as bad. He was the instigator of the pranks. Lucky was the fool who usually carried them out.”
“Carolyn was at the house visiting one day when Deaton dared me to climb out on the roof and hang a pair of Shannon’s underpants from the TV antennae.”
“That’s a three-story drop,” Jack said.
“You’re telling me. I was scared to death, but I knew if I chickened out, there’d be hell to pay. Of course, when my mother caught me and blistered my backside in front of everyone, that was worse than hell. I never did forgive Deaton for goading me into it.”
“What happened to the other boys? Where are they now?”
Lucky told him they still lived in town except for Ari, who’d become a concert violinist. “Larry sells insurance and Bomber, believe it or not, became a Methodist minister.”
The casket sat closed at the end of the parlor. The room was small and quickly filled up with people who’d come to pay their respects. Jack spotted the police chief and raised his hand in greeting. “I should go over. I’ve been avoiding him all week.”
“How come?” Lucky asked.
“He’s been bugging me about joining some kind of community-service project we’re involved in. We’re supposed to go out and pick up litter off the streets.”
“Adopt-a-Mile,” Shannon said. “You adopt a mile of highway and keep it clean. Bill’s school does it.”
“I’m sure it’s worthwhile, but with Lucky pregnant and all the repairs that need doing at the cabin, I don’t want to commit to something that’s going to eat up my time.”
“Oh, you should do it. I think it’s only one Saturday morning a month, and it makes a huge difference to how the town looks.”
“I’ll think about it.” He wandered over to speak to the chief, leaving them alone.
“Are you two planning to stay at the cabin after the baby’s born?” Shannon asked. “Jack hasn’t insisted you move?”
“Why should we move? He’s beginning to like living in the country.”
“Oh, Lucky, you can’t believe that. The place is a disaster area.”
“No, it’s not. Jack’s been working on it in his spare time.”
“But surely that’s only because he wants to make it more livable temporarily—until you can buy a house.”
“Uh-uh,” she told her with confidence, then frowned as the words planted a seed of doubt. She and Jack hadn’t talked about the cabin since he’d returned. The repairs he’d done—she’d seen them as his acceptance that they were staying put. Maybe that wasn’t the case.
“Oh, look, the Wyatt sisters.” Shannon smiled and wiggled her fingers at them, but under her breath commented on how old they were both looking.
She had Leigh’s instinct for information, and gossip had always been her favorite pastime. She made a circuit of the room and got the scoop on the people Lucky didn’t know.
“Those men over there are part of Mr. Bagwell’s logging crews,” she said, indicating a group of eight or so men.
“So many?”
“He had four trucks. I imagine it takes several people to cut the wood and load it, plus someone to drive.”
“I recognize several of them, but not the two men on the right. Who are they?”
“The balding man with the glasses is Paul Hightower. He’s a timber manager or contractor or something for the park service. The guy he’s talking to is Carl Brown from the paper company.”
“Probably business associates.”
Shannon looked toward the door. “Well, I’m surprised to see him here.”
“Who is that? He seems familiar.”
“Joe Tagliotti. You know him. He owns the dry cleaners in that block below the Register. He married Harriet Lynn.”
Of course. She’d seen Tagliotti only yesterday when she’d picked up Jack’s shirts. Usually there was a woman at the counter during lunch hours, so Lucky had never talked to Tagliotti, but she’d sometimes seen him working in the back of the store.
“His ten-year-old is on the baseball team that Mr. Bagwell helped coach,” Shannon said. “He’s a real hothead. Rumor has it that he and Carolyn’s father got into it pretty hard last month because he yells at the kids when they mess up. The other parents have complained about him to the league.”
“Did they actually come to blows?”
“I’m not sure, but Bill heard that Tagliotti got so abusive Mr. Bagwell had him thrown out of the park.”
That was interesting. She wondered if Jack knew that or if it was important.
Leigh had quoted the district attorney in the paper as saying Charlie Bagwell’s death appeared to be accidental and unavoidable. All deaths routinely went before a grand jury, but the DA said charges against the train’s operators were unlikely.
Despite that, she knew Jack was still working on the case. He’d brought files home several times and read through them at his desk in the makeshift office he’d set up along one wall of the storage room. When she’d asked him why he hadn’t closed the case, he’d said he was only being thorough.
Shannon stayed another twenty minutes, then had to go. Lucky looked for Jack, deciding they should head out, too, but first she signed the guest book, something she’d neglected to do on the way in.
“Leaving?” a voice asked. Lucky turned to find Carolyn.
“Yes, but we’ll be at the funeral in the morning.”
“I wonder if I might ask a favor of you. Could you come by Dad’s house sometime tomorrow afternoon? Say, maybe three o’clock, if that’s convenient? My aunts should be gone home by then.”
“Yes, I can do that. Is there something you need help with? Jack can—”
“No, please, come alone. And…I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the visit to your husband.”
That piqued Lucky’s curiosity, but she didn’t like going behind Jack’s back. “Is something wrong, Carolyn?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound so mysterious. I feel a bit foolish even asking, especially since we don’t know each very well, but I have to talk to someone, and it occurred to me tonight that you’d be the perfect person.” She squeezed Lucky’s arm. “Please. I’ll explain tomorrow. Will you come?”
AT FIVE MINUTES past three the following afternoon, Lucky arrived at the late Charlie Bagwell’s house and parked in the driveway behind a silver Ford.
Leigh had reported that thieves had broken in the day of the man’s death, and it was easy to see how the crime had gone un
noticed for nearly twenty-four hours. This was an old subdivision of country estates. The lots were two or three acres, and all were heavily wooded to offer privacy.
Carolyn came to the door with her three-month-old baby in her arms and ushered Lucky into a marble foyer. The house was huge, and even more beautiful inside than out.
“Thank you for coming. I’ve asked my husband to run errands with my other son so we won’t be bothered. The baby’s still breastfeeding, otherwise I’d have sent him along. He won’t be a problem, though.” Rubbing his head, she talked to him in that special voice a mother reserves for her child. “You’re a very good boy, aren’t you? Yes, you are.” He smiled and waved a chubby arm in response.
“He’s adorable, and I love his red hair. I think he favors you more than your older boy.” Lucky followed her to the spacious kitchen.
“We’re hoping it stays red. Do you have children?”
“No.” Lucky shook her head. “Oh, one on the way. I suppose that counts.”
“How wonderful! When’s your due date?”
“January seventh.”
“The time will fly.” She motioned her toward the table. “Would you like some coffee or juice?”
“No, thank you.”
Carolyn sat down and put the infant in a carrier in front of her, gently rocking him as she talked. “The first baby is a lot of fun. I loved picking out the crib, decorating the room, deciding all the important things like whether to have natural childbirth. Pregnancy was such a special time for me.”
She went on about breastfeeding versus bottle-feeding, the importance of having a good doctor and other issues that Lucky hadn’t considered yet.
“I’m sorry,” she said after several minutes. “Here I am rambling on about babies, and I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you here.” She sobered. “How well did you know my father?”
“Not well. We’d speak on the street. That was about it.”
“He was a good man, Lucky. I want you to know that first off. Very generous. Thoughtful. He had a poor upbringing, but he worked hard.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“I know every daughter believes her father’s the greatest on earth, but mine truly was. I never lacked for his time or for anything material as a child, and although he once had an affair, it was many years ago, and he and Mother got past it and stayed together. He was a terrific grandfather. He doted on Adam, my oldest. As soon as Adam was born, Daddy created a trust fund so we won’t have to worry about sending him to college when the time comes. And he told me he planned to do the same for Kyle. He never neglected the boys. He called to talk to Adam every couple of days.”
“Must’ve been hard on him with you living so far away.”
“Oh, it was, especially after Mother died, but he was a strong man, and I never would’ve left him alone if I hadn’t believed he’d be okay. And he was okay. Sad, naturally, but he quickly jumped back into work and coaching baseball.”
The baby was falling asleep. She rose to get a lightweight blanket from the diaper bag on the counter to cover him.
“A couple of months ago,” she continued, sitting down again, “I noticed a change in Dad.”
“How so?”
“He stopped calling as often, and when he did, I suspected he’d been drinking. He seemed worried about something. If I brought it up, he’d get defensive, so I stopped. Then, when I was here last month, he got a call from someone one night and they argued horribly. He locked himself in his office in the shed out back, but I could hear him yelling even from here. I assumed this person was doing something wrong, because Dad told him more than once ‘It has to stop.’”
“What has to stop?”
“I don’t know. I could only understand bits and pieces of the conversation.”
“Did he ever mention a man named Joe Tagliotti?” Lucky related what Shannon had told her about the argument at the ballpark.
“I don’t think so, but then again, he never called the man by name. This person could’ve been a woman, for that matter. I got no indication of whether it was a friend or someone he worked with. All I know is that afterward, out of the blue, he started talking about giving up the business, selling his house and moving to Mobile, which was really strange because we’d suggested that numerous times and he’d always fought the idea.”
“People change when they get older. They get lonely and want to be around their families.”
“It was more than that, Lucky. I found out… He was about to be audited. I found the notice on his desk. The IRS has requested his bank and company records.”
“An audit is enough to put anyone on edge.”
Her body slumped. “I can’t believe my dad would ever do anything wrong, but… We had a break-in the day he died. Did you know about that?”
“Yes, I understand some things were taken from the house and from a storage shed.”
“The shed is next to the workshop behind the house, and they cleaned it out. I don’t know what was in there because Dad always kept it locked, but in here they stole my mother’s silver, the television and the VCR. I thought originally they’d taken my mother’s jewelry. I couldn’t find it in the house, or the box at the bank, but then I remembered something from when I was a child. I saw Dad putting papers behind a board in the closet of his bedroom. He had a secret place where he kept things. My mother didn’t know, I’m certain of it.”
“Carolyn, are you sure you want to tell me this?”
“Yes, because this concerns you in a way.”
“Me? How?”
“You’ll understand in a minute. First let me tell you about this ‘cubbyhole,’ as Dad called it. When he caught me watching, he made me promise never to open it. For thirty years I kept that promise. Yesterday morning I broke it. I looked inside. I found the jewelry, but I also found deeds for property I never knew he owned, certificates for gold he’d purchased and stored in a depository in Florida and nearly $150,000 in cash.”
Shocked, Lucky didn’t know what to say. She squirmed in her chair, uncomfortable about being privy to this information. It wasn’t what she’d expected when she’d agreed to come here.
“Apparently,” Carolyn added, “he’s taken a few expensive vacations over the years. I didn’t know anything about them, either. I found the receipts. Hawaii. Mexico. The Caribbean. He didn’t miss a call to me or the children, but he also never revealed he was out of the country. The last one was back in November. Aruba for two weeks. He let me believe he was in Georgia cutting timber on a contract.”
The crazy shirt with the flamingos now made sense to Lucky.
“Carolyn, I really think you should be talking to someone who can give you legal advice.”
“I’ve debated that all night. I’ve also considered calling your husband or Officer Swain, because I’m not sure if this has any bearing on what happened to Dad. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t even told my husband. I’m afraid…” She broke into tears. “I’m afraid that everything I’ve always believed about my father may be a lie. Daddy made a good living, Lucky, but not that good. What if he was doing something illegal?”
“All the more reason to talk to an attorney.”
“I suppose you’re right—I should. But I wanted to tell you first.”
“Why, Carolyn? I still don’t see how I fit into this.”
“Because of your past and something else I found in the cubbyhole. This—” she picked up an envelope from the table and opened it “—scares me more than the money.” Withdrawing a stack of newspaper clippings, she handed them over. “These are from the Register.”
Lucky scanned the headlines of the first few articles. Her confusion deepened. She flipped through the stack of yellowing newsprint. “These are all about Eileen Olenick and Terrell Wade. And…and my testimony at his hearing. They’re more than twenty years old.”
“Except one.” She pointed it out and Lucky picked it up—the piece Leigh had written two and a half months ago on Terrell. “
Daddy’s behavior changed about the time Terrell Wade returned to Potock. And look at his notation.”
Underlined in pen was a sentence that said Terrell was suspected in the 1980 disappearance of Jackson Elementary School teacher Eileen Olenick, but that no charges had been filed.
In the margin beside it was one word printed in bold letters: INNOCENT.
JACK HAMMERED another nail into place and tested the steps he’d spent the past few hours replacing in front of the cabin. This was his first full day off in ten, and aside from the funeral that morning, he’d spent all of it working in the yard. He’d cleaned out brush around the foundation and secured places where the tin had come loose, as well as fixed the steps.
Lucky pulled in shortly after five. Pale and silent, she walked by without a word and went inside.
Jack looked at Beanie. “Well, what do you think? Should we go see what’s wrong, or are we better off leaving her alone?” The dog wagged her tail and sneezed. “That’s what I think, too. Let’s not press our luck.”
He scratched at an itchy place on his arm and returned to work. At seven-thirty Lucky came out, sleepy-eyed but looking better. She wore her bathing suit bottom, but with her bra.
“Hey,” she said, approaching with hesitation.
“Hey.”
“I was tired. I took a nap.”
“Beanie and I figured as much, so we let you sleep.”
“I wasn’t nice before. I’m really sorry.”
“Already forgiven.”
She rubbed the dog’s ears then put her arms around Jack’s neck, burying her face in his T-shirt. “How do you stand me?”
“It’s not easy,” he teased. “You’re so ugly and foul-tempered.” Normally that would have made her laugh, but it didn’t this time. Something was wrong, and it went beyond being tired. “Want to tell me what the problem is?”
“Yes, but right now I’d rather take a quick swim before it gets dark.”
“I’d change first.”
“I just did.”
“You’re wearing your bra. Not your bathing-suit top.”