by C. Ruth Daly
The service ended and the funeral procession streamed through town with one last trip past the Opera House for Thelma, then out along the country road toward the Odd Fellows Cemetery where she would be laid to rest close to the gravesite of her son Ned Hollis. Unknown to most people—except for family members and Glynda, the cremated body of Freddy Carson would be buried at the foot of his mother’s grave with no gravestone to recognize his life—another secret, and this one carried to the grave.
The group of five dispersed from the gravesite into separate vehicles with three to the Myer place and Trevor in his sleek car—back to Lori’s side. Donna climbed into her truck and returned to her mother’s house where she sat at the kitchen table with Carol and savored a strong cup of coffee. The afternoon news came through her mom’s transistor and Donna strained to hear that an arrest had been made in the death of Camden County’s assessor, Robert Mulligan. Eric and Tonya Lamar of Chicago were arrested at O’ Hare Airport. Tonya Lamar is also held for second degree arson along with Debbie Gray of Hammond, Indiana. No further information available at the time.
“Wow,” Donna said to her mom, “I met those people at Trevor’s party. Who’d of thought they would murder the assessor. Must have been a problem with the value of the property. Huh.” Donna sipped her coffee. “This has been a very crazy and sad summer, Mom.”
“Yes, Donna, it has been a sad, sad summer.”
“Yes, it was a very crazy time, my dear,” Steven Lucero sat in his clean and comfy chair by the window in his living room where he gazed outside to see the evergreens in his front yard glistening in the Arizona sun. “Don’t you agree, Rhonda?”
“Yes, it was Steven. It certainly was.”
“Will you be coming out this way soon, my dear? It’s been a few weeks since we’ve seen each other.”
“No, Steven, no I’m not,” Rhonda replied. That’s why I called. You see Steve, it’s over. We’re done. I’m sorry but it has to be this way.”
Steven’s mouth dropped and his forehead wrinkled. “Done, but why?”
“It just is, Steven. It is time to move on—for both of us. I can’t talk about this anymore. Bye Steven. Bye.” Click.
Professor Lucero slowly set the receiver down and stood, staring silently at the phone, the corners of his eyes wrinkled. He smiled slightly and returned to his chair, opened up the newspaper and began reading. Even in the emptiness of his own home, he had to hide his tears.
In her mother’s kitchen in Burgenton, Indiana, Donna McNally moved away from the table with the pretense of getting another cup of coffee despite her mostly full cup. She wiped the tears from her eyes and removed her glasses, grabbing a paper towel.
“Donna, it’s okay to be sad during times like this, child,” her mother spoke.
“I’m okay, Mom. I’m fine. I—I think it’s allergies. Do you still keep the writing tablet in the desk drawer? Mind if I use a few sheets of paper and an envelope, too?”
“Don’t need to ask,” Carol replied, picking up her ever present crossword puzzle.
Donna moved to the dining room and collected the material from the desk, pulled out a chair and sat down. She wrote quickly and feverishly, then held the paper back to read her message to Irish’s daughter. She smiled.
Dear Olivia,
Since you are my youngest niece at this time, I have something I want to give you. When you are twenty, there’s a key in the possession of this attorney and he or she will give it to you. Inside the Burgenton Bank is a secret for you—a treasure that I want you to take care of. Both your Mommy and Daddy were involved in finding this treasure. Treat it carefully and use it wisely. Respect it, for this secret can bring sorrow and heartbreak if used in the wrong way.
Peace and Love,
Auntie Donna