Love With A Stranger

by Taylor, Janelle

  Faulty brakes…Missing airbag… Cass reasoned that even if someone had tampered with Tom’s car, she wasn’t responsible and there was no way she could have disabled his brakes and safety device. She didn’t know anything about cars, and she was never allowed near his vehicle; no one was except the serviceman. At least she now knew why the police were suspicious of foul play.

  If you were killed, my adulterous husband, I wonder if one of your discarded lovers or one of their sweethearts or spouses did it. I don’t dare reveal such filth to “Mutt & Jeff!” If they are good detectives, let them uncover the facts!

  Cass returned to her reading. Wednesday’s paper also mentioned that Tom was driving home after returning from a trip and dropping off model Gretchen Lowrey at a hotel on the Golden Isles Parkway. It said that after giving a statement to the police about their relationship, Miss Lowrey left town to return home to New York City.

  I bet a million dollars you didn’t tell them the truth, did you, you sorry piece of trash? I wonder what they would think if they learned you lied and they got a look at that sordid videotape. Would you roll over in your grave, dear Tom, if I tarnished your memory and good name by selling that second video to some sleasy tabloid?

  Cass pushed aside thoughts and emotions that were deliciously vindictive, though totally out of character for her. Friday’s newspaper had an interview with Peter, but it mostly told about him taking over his father’s companies and elaborated on the two local ones where the new boss and owner planned no changes. She was curious about why he hadn’t mentioned that article.

  Cass wished she knew what this evening’s paper contained, but it had not come yet. She was surprised the media hadn’t pestered her for interviews, but was glad they hadn’t. With luck, Beals and Killian would release a statement soon that the wreck was only a terrible accident and there was a credible explanation for why his airbag was missing. She had suffered more than enough torment since Tom’s death and she didn’t need to be drawn into a murder investigation, or to become a suspect, which was ridiculous.

  Is it, Cassandra? Tom’s countless affairs, and that prenuptial agreement, and a hefty inheritance give you plenty of motives. You’re a wealthy woman, so you could have hired a hit man. Good grief, Cass, are you nuts?—She stopped her imagination from running hog wild!

  She glanced at the statue of Atlas bearing the weight of the world and scoffed that his burden was nothing compared to those on her shoulders. She glared at the Kenya picture of Tom beside the bed until she leapt up and tossed it into the nightstand drawer. Her troubled mind told her to get rid of all reminders of him in her home! But not too soon, she warned herself, or I’ll antagonize Peter before everything’s settled.

  She paced the floor as she imagined ways to evict Tom totally from her mind, as he had expelled himself from her heart with his betrayals. She sipped the herbal tea, though it was cold and flat. So many jumbled thoughts attacked her brain that she wanted to scream at them to give her just a short respite. She couldn’t understand why she was so antsy, as she’d never been a high-strung or neurotic person, not even during her worst moments in the past dealing with her parents’ deaths and the unfaithful Brad. She turned on classical music and tried to read a magazine to distract herself, but that didn’t work.

  Finally, Cass carried the Valium bottle into the bathroom. After opening a capsule and dumping half its contents and reclosing it, she took a partial dose of the tranquilizer to take the edge off her anxieties. Perhaps, she reasoned, a nap would help calm her edginess.

  * * *

  When Cass awoke at five o’clock, she was a little sluggish but her tension was almost gone. She freshened up and straightened the bed, then gathered the newspapers, and put them in the pantry downstairs for Inez’s recycling collection. She prepared a cup of French Vanilla coffee, this time using decaffeinated. Just as she reached out her hand to turn on a smallscreen television to catch the evening news, someone knocked at the back door. She found Peter standing there with a smile on his face and two plastic carrying bags in his hands.

  “I hope you haven’t eaten; I stopped at Mullet Bay and picked us up shrimp platters with cold slaw and french fries and shrimp fritters.”

  Cass noticed that he hadn’t used his key to let himself inside, and she resisted the temptation to request its return. She smiled and said, “I was just deciding what I was in the mood for, so your timing is perfect. Come in. What can I pour you to drink?”

  “A Coke will be fine for me, thanks.”

  “Did you just get off from work?” she asked. “Is everything okay at the company?”

  Peter chuckled. “Yes and yes, thank goodness. The staff and employees appear to be accepting me as boss. Of course, they’re used to me running the two local companies for Dad.”

  When they were both seated at the breakfast-room table, Peter said, “You look and sound better this evening, Cass. How was your day?”

  Cass finished chewing the fritter before she answered, “To be honest, Peter, good and bad.” The longer I’m friendly and polite, Cass reasoned, the longer I can ward off any problems with him.

  “How so?” he inquired before biting into a large goldenfried shrimp.

  Cass told him about the snoopy ladies and inquisitive drivebys.

  “That’s to be expected, Cass, considering who my father was.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s rude and insensitive. I also read all of this week’s newspapers. I’m glad reporters haven’t been pestering me.”

  “I was hoping they wouldn’t; that’s why I granted them an interview yesterday. Did you see it? Did I do all right with it?”

  “Yes and yes,” she said, using his previous response style, then devouring several french fries and a forkful of cole slaw.

  Peter chuckled again as he worked on his meal, then he said, “With luck, this intrusion will be over soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  They ate and drank for a few minutes in silence.

  “Peter, do you think it’s possible that someone murdered Tom?”

  “No, Cass. Since my father was a rich man, they have to make sure no foul play was involved. I just wish they would keep their mouths shut to the media until the evidence proves it was only an accident. As soon as that automobile serviceman returns from his trip and he’s questioned, they’ll get their answers. We just have to ignore the fuss until everything is settled.”

  “Maybe I should get away for a while. I feel trapped in my own home. If I go out, I’m sure to confront more pushy people. I don’t want to be gawked at, or whispered about, or interrogated by strangers or reporters. I feel alone. No one has called or sent letters to check on me, on us. It’s as if we’ve been stricken off their lists. If the phone didn’t have a dial tone, I would think it was out of order or disconnected.”

  “That’s probably because I’ve been getting calls and mail at the office. I have more sympathy cards to add to the box I left with you. I suppose they know me better and perhaps didn’t want to disturb you.”

  That explanation lifted her spirits a little, but she was still disappointed at being snubbed or overlooked by Tom’s friends. “I guess I’m just feeling out of sorts. Maybe a trip would do me good.”

  “Please, not yet, Cass; we have to take care of business and personal matters first; and I really don’t think you should be going away alone in your state of mind. You’ve suffered a terrible shock and loss, so how you feel is normal, I should think. What you need is rest and quiet to get yourself back together. Relax by the pool, get some sun and fresh air, eat good food, take naps, exercise in Dad’s gym, let Inez wait on you hand and foot. I also advise staying out of the public eye to avoid subjecting yourself to snoopy people and reporters; Inez and I can run your errands. And take those Valium if you need them. I’m sure using them for a short time won’t harm you. In a few weeks, you’ll be your old self again. By then, we’ll have all our matters settled. Then, take a vacation. I need. you here, Cass.”

  “You�
��re right, Peter. What good would it do me if I leave before everything’s settled? I’d just be taking my problems with me, I wouldn’t be able to relax and enjoy myself.”

  “I know what might relax you tonight; let’s take a walk on the beach; it should be deserted by now.”

  “That’s an excellent idea.”

  “You’d better grab a windbreaker; it’s cool and windy out there. I’ll clean up the table while you fetch your things.”

  “Thank you, Peter, for everything you’re doing for me,” she told him before leaving the room and thinking how odd it sounded and felt to be thanking Tom’s son time and time again for being nice.

  Cass put on walk-ing shoes and selected a thin jacket to keep her arms warm. She noticed the briefcase and grocery sack, collected them, and returned to the kitchen to initiate her pretense about them.

  “I almost forgot about these, Peter; those two detectives brought them over yesterday. They were in Tom’s car when… he wrecked it.”

  Peter placed the briefcase on the counter and tried to open it, but it was locked. He dumped out the contents in the sack, then pushed aside the two gifts and said, “These must be for you.”

  “Probably, but I’ll open them later. I don’t want to get sad and weepy on you. The novel isn’t mine; perhaps Miss Lowrey left it in his car that night,” she added when he tried to hand the book to her. From the corner of her eyes, she watched for any revealing reaction to that fact and the model’s name, but detected none. She decided that either Peter masked his feelings well or he was in the dark about his father’s secrets.

  “This camera is totally smashed, so I’ll toss it in the trash.” He checked the wallet, handed her the cash and pictures, and said he would destroy the credit cards since she had her own. He used the keys to unlock the briefcase and, with it facing him, checked its contents. “Mostly business papers and Dad’s calendar. I’ll take them with me and go over them later.” He removed the house and burglar alarm keys from his father’s ring and laid them on the counter, pocketing the others to take to the business offices.

  Cass watched Peter lift the lid on the black velvet box and tell her it was another gift for her. She accepted it and closed the box. “Tom was always bringing me things; he was a generous person,” she murmured, hating to compliment her betrayer.

  “Unless you want it for sentimental reasons, I’ll keep the wallet.”

  “Please do so, Peter.”

  “You still want me to keep Dad’s Rolex and his ruby ring?”

  “Yes, they should be passed along to his only son, and there was no need to bury such expensive items with him.”

  “They’ll be special to me. Now, let’s get off this sad memory lane and take our walk. Grab your margarita and let’s go.”

  “That’s my favorite drink. I’m sure it’s been long enough since I took half a Valium this afternoon for it to be safe. Somehow I don’t think I’ll be needing another one tonight.”

  “You took half? I don’t understand.”

  Cass explained how she had lowered the dosage. “I just needed a little to calm me so I could take a nap. I got upset by those meddlesome women.”

  “That was clever, and it obviously worked. Ready to go?”

  “More than ready. Which drink is mine?”

  “Either one, I mixed them the same.”

  Cass picked up the plastic cup with a handle nearest to her and tasted it. “Um-m-m, delicious. Thanks.”

  After locking the door, Cassandra and Peter Grantham strolled side by side down a stone walkway to the end of the lawn and stepped onto sand as soft and white as sifted flour. They passed through an opening in the picketlike privacy fence and skirted low dunes with tall grasses and sea oats wafting in a breeze. The tide was out, so the water, as clear and blue as the heaven overhead, moved in and out with leisure, and created a wide spanse for walk-ing. The sun had set recently, so the western sky was still ablaze with vibrant colors on the horizon. To their left and right, portions of other nearby islands were in view. Expensive homes lined the beach in both directions. It was a peaceful and lovely setting, a serene time of day.

  As they walked half way between the low dunes and water’s edge and sipped their drinks, Cass asked Peter, “Are you planning to stay on Sea Island?”

  “I imagine so, at least for a while. Dad’s other companies have good managers, so I’ll probably run everything from here because the two local companies are the only ones that need me around most of the time. Of course, I’ll have to check on them personally from time to time.”

  Cass swallowed the tart liquid before she surmised aloud, “That means you’ll be traveling on occasion like Tom did?”

  “Not as much. My way of thinking is, if you hire good men, let them do the work and stay out of their hair. After being married to Dad for almost three years, you know he had a restless spirit. He had to keep busy and moving and have plenty of challenges. Not me; I prefer to stay put as much as possible. I guess you could say, I prefer living and working in a near paradise to battling excessive traffic, smog, and noise in those rat-race towns. What about you, Cass? What are your plans?”

  Cass lowered her cup from her lips and clasped it between her hands. “I haven’t made any, but I should give it some serious thought within the next few weeks. I love this area and the house, but one might be too large for a woman alone and the other might drive me away if things don’t settle down soon. I suppose it’s obvious I haven’t made any friends here and this might not be the best time to start looking, not with everybody so intrigued by Tom’s accident. The way things are now, I wouldn’t know who was seeking me out for myself or only as a source for obtaining gossip for their little cliques.”

  “As soon as the investigation’s closed and we become old news, things will change. I had noticed you kept to yourself most of the time, even when Dad was away. Strange, but you’ve never struck me as being a shy person.”

  “Most of the time I’m not. I tried to get into several activities to help me get to know people, but Tom wanted me to stay home until he had time to check out who and what I had in mind.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Cass, he was probably afraid you might meet somebody and he’d lose you before he settled down. He told me he was planning on doing that at the end of this year; it was to be a surprise.”

  “It certainly is, he never mentioned anything like that to me.”

  They strolled in silence for a time as dusk slowly crept across the secluded location. Finally, Peter suggested they turn and head back.

  As they strolled homeward, Peter talked about the protected species—dolphins and Right whales—that seasonally roamed the coastal waters, and about shrimping. Several times he made jokes, to which Cass laughed in genuine amusement.

  “We’re making progress, Cass, and I like this relationship better. It’s a shame we both stayed so stubborn for so long.”

  “You’re right, Peter, and I’m grateful we’ve both changed.”

  Cass suddenly noticed somebody—a telltale light behind the person—watching them from a window. No doubt the snoop wondered why the young widow and her handsome adult stepson were ambling along a romantic beach in approaching moonlight, sipping cocktails, laughing, and chatting less than a week after Tom’s death. She certainly did not need that kind of gossip added to the supposed rumors already circulating about her and Tom and the accident. “Let’s pick up our pace,” she suggested to Peter. “I’m feeling very relaxed, even drowsy.”

  “Am I so boring I’m putting you to sleep on your feet?” he teased, but knew it was what he had slipped into her drink that was doing the trick. He noted how her pace had slowed, her body had loosened, and her lids were drooping.

  “No, the person to our right has binoculars trained on us, but I am feeling most relaxed, thanks to you, this walk, and a delicious drink. I think, after a warm bath, I’ll be ready to snooze like a baby tonight.”

  “Good, because I’m sure you need it.” So do I, to g
o through Dad’s desk in privacy. “How would you like to go to Sunday brunch at the King and Prince tomorrow about eleven?”

  Cass loved the resort restaurant on neighboring St. Simons Island. “Do you think we should?”

  “Why not?”

  “People might talk, Peter, if they see us out having fun this soon.”

  “They’re going to talk whether we go out or not. We don’t have anything to hide about Dad’s accident, and we are family, friends.”

  “You’re right again. Eleven o’clock it is.”

  “A splendid decision, Cass. Here we are, so I’ll say good night.”

  Cass took the cup from his hand, smiled, and told him good night before she entered her home to shower and get to bed while she was still calm.

  Following what Cass considered to be a pleasant evening and an improvement in her mood and behavior, things changed the next day, or rather returned to their previous state before deteriorating rapidly.

  By Sunday evening, Cass was a bundle of raw nerves. At brunch, either people had actually stared and whispered at the two of them or Cass had imagined they did. Her mood had darkened and her tension had increased by the minute as she tried to force herself to relax and eat and to ignore those around them. Peter had cautioned her to stop frowning and clenching her teeth several times, and she had snapped at him once to leave her alone. Finally, he had suggested they leave before she embarrassed herself.

  At home, she had apologized to him and told him she didn’t know what had gotten into her, though she was still struggling to gain control of herself, then taken his advice about a Valium and a nap.

  Monday was much the same for her, due in part to another visit from the two offensive detectives who came by to see if she had thought of anything helpful. Cass had told them again she didn’t know of anyone who had wanted Thomas Grantham dead, but she wasn’t sure if she was convincing in view of what she had learned about her deceitful husband following their last visit. If the men had pried into Tom’s briefcase and knew she was lying, it wasn’t apparent to her. The men probed for information about Tom’s net worth and will and beneficiaries, but she told them to ask Tom’s lawyer or son about those matters since they had not yet been discussed with her. She told them she would not speak with them again without Simon Johnson being present, and in parting, she demanded they finalize the investigation as soon as possible and stop tormenting her.