by Marta Perry
She countered his mulish look with a firm one of her own, and he began trundling the pieces into the next room. Deidre usually discouraged building sets anywhere but in his room, but it seemed only fair to let Sylvia see his enjoyment at a safe distance.
But even with the toys at a distance, Sylvia still seemed distracted. She picked up a sofa pillow, hugging it against her and pulling at the fringe. Her lips worked a little, as if there was something she wanted to say.
“You’re a good mother.” She blurted the words out, then pressed her fingers to her lips.
“That’s nice of you to say.” Deidre uttered the conventional response while wondering how much longer Sylvia was going to hold herself together. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Or tea?” She couldn’t think of anything else that might help. How long would Madge take at the pharmacy?
Sylvia didn’t seem to hear the offer. She shook her head, the ready tears forming again. “I wasn’t a good mother to Frank. I can’t deny it. You know, don’t you? I wasn’t a good mother.”
Sylvia had spent too many of Frank’s formative years in and out of rehab, but all that was in the past. Right now, Deidre would settle for averting the sort of scene she didn’t want Kevin to see.
“You loved him.” She clasped one of Sylvia’s twitching hands again. “That was most important. Frank always knew that you loved him.”
But Sylvia shook her head, tears beginning to flow. “You’re a good mother,” she said again, as if she was arguing with someone. “A boy should be with his mother.”
“Well, of course, but if a mother can’t...”
“I keep telling him.” Sylvia’s voice broke on a sob. “I keep telling him a boy belongs with his mother. She knows what’s best. But he won’t listen.”
Something cold seemed to touch the back of Deidre’s neck. “Are you talking about Frank?”
Sylvia managed to focus on her for a moment. “Kevin. Kevin belongs with his mother. With you.”
Deidre tried to push away the dread that pressed on her. “Of course Kevin belongs with me. No one can take him away from me.” She glanced quickly at Kev, but he was totally wrapped up in the pieces he was putting together. “Sylvia, what are you talking about?”
Sylvia’s eyes were wide. Frightened. “Franklin,” she whispered.
Her obvious fear was infectious. The world spun around and settled back into place as the doorbell rang.
Sylvia gasped, shooting a look toward the door. “Madge. Don’t tell. Don’t tell.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Deidre grasped both her hands in a firm grip. “But first you have to tell me what you’re talking about. What does Franklin want to do?”
The doorbell rang again. Sylvia cast it an agonized look. “I can’t. I can’t.”
She had to steel herself. Had to voice the thought she could hardly bear to let into her mind. “What does Franklin think he can do to us?”
“He says Kevin should be living in our house. He says it’s not safe for him here. He’s going to make it happen.”
Deidre stood, feeling as if every separate muscle had to be told to work. She moved toward the door. She had to open it, had to appear normal to Madge.
Since the judge hadn’t repeated his intentions to move them into Ferncliff, she’d been assuming that he had accepted her answer. She’d thought that Kevin’s accident would push all of that out of his mind.
It seemed she’d been wrong. Instead, it had made him more determined to take away their freedom to live their lives the way she and Frank had planned.
Sylvia probably feared he could somehow force Deidre into agreeing, but she was wrong. And if the judge thought that, he was in for the fight of his life. She was, as well, and it was a fight she couldn’t possibly lose.
CHAPTER SIX
DESPITE THE JUDGE’S assurance that the police would cooperate with him, Jason entered the chief’s office the next day with less than his usual confidence. Chief Carmichaels had struck him as a guy who would walk a careful line where the integrity of his office was concerned.
Still, ostensibly his inquiry was a perfectly legitimate one—to find out when Dixie James’s body would be released for burial. The fact that he’d also like to know what progress the cops were making in the case lay at the back of his mind like a weight. There was no reason to believe Deidre and her son were in danger from the killer, but he couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility from his mind. Even Chief Carmichaels’s firm statement to the press that Kevin didn’t remember anything might mean nothing to a frightened, desperate killer.
Carmichaels rose from behind a desk that was littered with papers, holding out his hand. “Morning, Counselor. What can we do for you?” He waved Jason to a chair.
“Mrs. Morris wanted me to find out when she could make funeral arrangements for the deceased. It seems the woman’s mother asked her to take care of things here.”
He thought he’d kept any personal judgments out of his words, but Carmichaels grimaced slightly. “That sounds like Lillian James.”
“You know her, then?” He leaned back, prepared to talk about anything that might lead to a discussion of the case.
“Knew her,” he corrected, hands relaxing on the desktop. “Years ago, I guess. They must have left Echo Falls when Dixie was maybe thirteen or so.”
“What took them away from here?” That was something no one had ever explained, the same way no one had explained why Dixie had come back.
Carmichaels’s heavy face settled into a frown. “Seemed like Dixie kind of went off the rails when she got into her teens. Started getting rebellious, getting into trouble with older kids.”
“Her parents didn’t do anything about it?” He didn’t find uncaring parents surprising, but he figured people around here might.
“The father was never in the picture, not that I can remember. And Lillian wasn’t what you’d call an attentive mother. After a few close calls that might have ended up with Social Services taking notice, they cleared out. Just gone with no notice to anybody.”
“Seems surprising that Dixie would come back here.”
The chief shrugged. “Way I hear it, she wanted a fresh start after a divorce. She probably thought there were folks here who’d help her out for old time’s sake.”
People like Deidre, Jason supposed, who seemed to have a weakness for helping lame ducks across busy highways. Harmless enough normally, but with Dixie, it had inadvertently led to endangering her son.
Carmichaels seemed to recall the reason for Jason’s visit. “As for releasing the body, I’ve got the final report from the coroner’s office here.” He shuffled through papers and came up with a file, opening it with what almost seemed like deliberate slowness. “Looks like the coroner’s satisfied with the cause of death—severe blow to the head that crushed the skull.”
“Isn’t it surprising there were no wounds that indicated she had tried to defend herself?”
Carmichaels lifted an eyebrow. “Thought you dealt with white-collar crime.”
Now it was Jason’s turn to shrug. “Like plenty of young attorneys without a family firm to step into, I started out with the public prosecutor’s office as an assistant DA, doing anything that came along.”
“Figures.” The chief seemed satisfied. “Yeah, you’d expect to find some indication that she’d put up an arm or hand to shield herself, but there was no sign of it. Looks like the assailant caught her completely off guard.”
Jason came to the obvious conclusion. “So either she didn’t hear him coming, or he was someone she didn’t think she had reason to fear.”
“Even if she had the television on, with the boy asleep upstairs it wouldn’t have been loud enough to cover the sound of somebody entering.” Carmichaels had obviously thought it through. “Besides, you said the door was open whe
n you got there. If it had been locked when Deidre left, Dixie had to have let the person in.”
“A boyfriend?” Deidre had said Dixie wouldn’t have done so, but Deidre had a way of taking a rosy view of people that might not have been justified in Dixie’s case.
“Seems the most likely idea. And we’re looking for the ex-husband, just in case you were wondering.”
Jason was surprised into a smile. “I guess I was, at that. You haven’t laid hands on him yet?”
“We will. Or somebody will. We started inquiries at the last place Dixie lived before coming back.” Carmichaels leaned back in his desk chair, which creaked in protest. “Any more ideas you wanted to share?”
Since he seemed to have thawed, Jason decided to bring up Billy. Deidre wouldn’t like it, of course.
“A guy stopped by the house yesterday who was pretty emotional about Dixie. Just wondered if you’d looked into him. Billy Kline, his name is.”
“Billy?” The chief said the name sharply, and then repeated it more thoughtfully. “Billy Kline. What would his interest be in Dixie James?”
“From what Mrs. Morris let drop, I gather he was one of the old friends Dixie found helpful when she came back to Echo Falls. Other than that, I don’t know what their relationship was.” He hesitated. “Look, you probably know better than I do what his mental state is. But when he burst out crying...”
Carmichaels seemed to relax. “If that’s all, it’s nothing. Billy does that when he gets upset or frustrated. There’s no harm in him. Everybody knows that.”
“Maybe so. But speaking as an outsider, it seemed to me he was carrying a lot of anger around with him. And he’s strong enough.”
“Even then...” Obviously Carmichaels found it just as hard as Deidre had to imagine anything violent about Billy. “Well, I’ll have a talk with him. If he’d seen something of Dixie since she came back, he might be helpful.”
Carmichaels seemed to consider that the end of the conversation, because he stood. “If there’s anything else, you be sure to tell me.”
He’d like to press about the results of their search of the woman’s apartment, but he didn’t want to push his luck. “So I can tell Mrs. Morris to have the funeral home get in touch with the coroner about pickup?”
Carmichaels nodded. “If she’s determined to take it on, I guess she can get on with it.”
“You sound as if you don’t quite buy Lillian James’s excuses for not handling the funeral herself.”
“People don’t change.” He grimaced. “Lillian James never accepted any responsibility that she could get someone else to handle, including her kid. So now she’s latched on to Deidre. And knowing Deidre, she couldn’t say no. Her folks were the same way. Anybody needing help or a handout could be sure of getting it from them. Unlike Frank’s folks.”
“The judge and his wife aren’t charitable?” It wasn’t his business, but something told him the interrelationships of people in this town counted for a lot.
“Charity, yes.” Carmichaels walked to the door with him. “So long as it’s something that puts up a plaque with the donors’ names on it. That’s not the same as putting yourself out to give somebody a helping hand.”
“Still valuable, I guess.” No, he couldn’t see Judge Franklin Morris “putting himself out” to help anyone other than his family, as the chief had phrased it.
“Guess so.” Carmichaels stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Seeing as you’re new in town, maybe you ought to get to know people before you line up too firmly with one side or another.”
“I didn’t know there were sides to pick.” Not true, was it? There was definitely a side to choose between Deidre and her formidable father-in-law.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Carmichaels didn’t seem to want to commit himself further. “I’ll be seeing you, I guess.”
Nodding his thanks, Jason walked through the door and onto the street. The sun had been shining when he’d come in, but now a light rain was slanting across the pavement. Spring weather was changeable.
Like his attitude. He’d been fully prepared to do what the judge wanted him to do in regard to Deidre. But that had been before he’d gotten to know her.
If she hasn’t done anything wrong, then she has nothing to fear.
Somehow that rationalization wasn’t carrying a whole lot of weight with him right now.
* * *
“SO I’VE CALLED the funeral home, and Gary Wilson is stopping by later to talk over the arrangements.” She was relieved that it was Gary she’d reached, rather than his father, who’d handled Frank’s funeral. Gary was a friend. He’d known Dixie, and Deidre could talk easily with him.
“I asked Adam Bennett to conduct the service,” she went on. “He didn’t really know Dixie at all, but I’m sure he’ll do a good job.” Deidre and Judith sat in the kitchen with coffee and the sticky buns Judith had brought while the rain poured down outside and the two boys played with Kevin’s new building set.
“I’m certain sure of that. He seems like a gut man. It’s a shame Dixie’s mamm can’t be here. I can’t imagine...” She let that trail off. Judith would never say anything negative about someone, but her feelings were clear. “So the police will let you go ahead with it?”
Deidre nodded. “Jason Glassman spoke to the police for me. He called to tell me the funeral home people could pick up the body. So the service will be on Thursday.”
“Something quiet, I guess.”
Deidre nodded. “Normally I would invite people to the house afterward, but since Dixie died here...” She rubbed her forehead. “Well, I just can’t. So the funeral will be at eleven, followed by a lunch at the church. The women’s group offered to bring the food.”
“I’ll be sehr glad to bring something, too. I’ll drop it off at the church kitchen.” Bringing food in the aftermath of trouble was Judith’s normal response.
“Thanks, Judith.” She was on the verge of tears, not sure whether they were for Dixie, who died so horribly, or for her own fears over what Frank’s father might intend.
She was suddenly aware of Judith’s hand clasping hers. “There’s something more wrong, ain’t so?”
Deidre hesitated, words crowding her tongue. But Judith, of all people, was safe. She could say anything to her and know it would go no further. Contrary to Jason’s apparent opinion, she didn’t trust people indiscriminately, but she knew Judith too well to have doubts.
“It’s Sylvia. She came to bring Kev that building set, and she said...” Deidre paused. A glance at the boys assured her that they couldn’t possibly hear. “She seems to have gotten the idea that Franklin is trying to force us to move in with them.”
Judith’s fingers tightened on hers, but she didn’t make the mistake of overreacting. “Did she actually say that?”
“She hinted at it.” Deidre tried to reconstruct the conversation in her mind. “When I asked if that was what she meant, she nodded.”
Her oval face solemn, Judith considered. “Do you think she really knew what she was talking about? Everyone knows she’s had to go for treatment plenty of times.”
“I know. That’s why I’m not sure what to do about it.” Deidre rubbed her forehead, feeling the effects of a sleepless night spent worrying. “She could be imagining things, or possibly she’s misinterpreting something the judge said. I’d like to believe that. But if it’s true, what will I do?”
“I think you should get a lawyer.”
Deidre blinked. She hadn’t expected an answer to the question, and to hear Judith suggesting an attorney... The Amish almost never went to the law to settle problems, preferring to let the wisdom and judgment of the church deal with their issues.
“I don’t know if it’s really a matter for an attorney. I mean, logically there’s nothing the judge can do other than put pressure on
me to agree.”
“I don’t know much about the law regarding such things,” Judith admitted. “But everyone knows the judge has a lot of power. Influence. I think you should ask someone for help.”
“Who?” That was really the question. “Who would I get who’d be willing to stand up against Judge Franklin Morris?”
“Jason has been helpful, ain’t so?” But Judith looked troubled.
“Helpful because the judge asked him to be,” she said.
Judith smiled. “I think he has other reasons than that. But he works for the judge, so I guess he couldn’t go up against him.”
“And any other attorney in town would feel the same way, even if they don’t work for him. After all, they try most of their cases in front of him.”
Human nature being what it was, they couldn’t help but be influenced by the judge’s position. Jason might think she wore rose-colored glasses, but on that she could see clearly.
“You will have to get someone from out of town, that’s all,” Judith said with finality. “But first...”
“I know. First I should make sure it’s true and not Sylvia’s imagination.” She rubbed her temples again, feeling as if she were caught in a nightmare.
“You could come right out and ask him,” Judith said.
“He’d ask where I got that idea.” She could hear him in her mind. “He’d be bound to know it came from Sylvia, and I had to promise her I wouldn’t tell. You know how she is. She’d shatter under the least bit of pressure. I can’t do that to her.”
“I guess not.” Judith patted Deidre’s hand. “I will think on it and pray about it. But in the meantime...” She was looking toward the front of the house. “You have to decide something, because the judge is coming up your front walk right now.”
Deidre felt her stomach clench just as the doorbell sounded its peal. Striving to look normal despite the emotions that were rampaging inside her, she went to the door and pulled it open to face the judge.
“I’d like to talk to you, Deidre.”
No polite preliminaries and a forbidding frown told her that the judge’s thoughts were not pleasant just now. Her mind raced. Had he found out that Sylvia had told her something? Was he here to deny it or to accuse her of pumping her ailing mother-in-law for information?