The Face of Deceit

by Ramona Richards

  “But flipping isn’t illegal or unethical,” Mason pressed. “Why would it make someone want to kill him? Did he get involved—” He glanced at Karen and stopped.

  Jake knew what he meant, however. “Nope. David wasn’t dirty, just private. The cops cleared him and every dime he left behind. Clean, though he may have pushed the limits of ethics. There was some suspicion that David’s intense drive to succeed didn’t sit well with his competitors. He low-bid them so often that at least one moved his business to Vermont.” Jake opened the back door of the house and ushered them into a narrow mudroom, where he slipped off his shoes and motioned for them to do the same. “You’ve been in my shop and the maid just left. Evie would have a fit.”

  Karen leaned against a wall to remove her sneakers. “Is she here?”

  Jake shook his head. “She left early to run a couple of errands. Then dance class till after noon. We have time.”

  The mudroom led to an industrial-size kitchen, and Mason fought to keep his mouth from hanging open as they wandered through the house. The dark wood and kitchen scents of smoke, grease and soap gave way to a paneled butler’s pantry and a Georgian-style dining room that would seat twenty. Karen, on the other hand, seemed blind to the furnishings as she followed Jake into an elaborate Victorian front parlor, complete with overstuffed horsehair chairs, Tiffany lamps, doilies and the faint aroma of peppermint. On the opposite wall from where they’d entered, a soaring arch opened onto the main entry hall and revealed the curving staircase on the other side.

  Jake noticed Mason’s slight sniffs of the air and grinned. “Peppermint oil. Supposedly good for the digestion.”

  Mason wanted to return to the earlier conversation. “No reputable businessman would resort to—”

  Jake motioned for them to sit together on one of the Queen Anne sofas. “Business later. Let’s switch to the personal now.” They both eased down on the cushions, with Mason half expecting the fragile-looking piece to collapse beneath their weight.

  Jake opened the front of a secretary and removed a key from a small drawer. He then used it to unlock one of the drawers, from which he withdrew a long, flat wooden box. He placed the box on Karen’s lap, nodding at the wooden lid. “Open it.”

  The box looked as if it had landed in Karen’s lap from another century. The inlaid top, with the swirls and distinctive fangs and scales of Chinese dragons, was carved so intricately that it seemed to be almost alive. She ran her fingers over the design. “Amazing.”

  “Your mother bought it in San Francisco. She kept her prized possessions in there. I brought it here after their deaths. I thought you might want it some day, but Evie wouldn’t have it. Said it was too painful for all of us.”

  Mason stared. “Even after twenty years?”

  Jake hesitated, then looked over at him. “Mason, you’re young. There are some pains you never quite get over. I hope you never have to learn that from personal experience. Most of us don’t, thank God. For Evie, this is one of those wounds.”

  The lid slid off easily, and Karen carefully placed it beside her on the couch. On top lay a folded piece of yellowed paper. When she opened it, a small “oh” escaped her, and Mason twisted to look over her shoulder.

  It was a birth certificate. Not the kind the government issues; this was a hospital certificate with Karen’s name, birth details and two tiny footprints. Silently, she handed it to Jake, who nodded. “Yep. Not surprised. They both thought you hung the moon, stars and some of the planets.”

  Next was a picture featuring a young couple with a baby, surrounded by relatives of every age. Karen showed it to Jake but held on to it. “That’s your christening day. I think the whole town turned out. Those are David’s folks on his side and Stephanie’s on the other.” He pointed to a young woman whose jet-black hair was already streaked with gray, and there was a touch of pride in his voice when he continued.

  “That’s my Evie. Even though she was a year younger than your mother, she already had Shane. Stephanie and David didn’t marry until their mid-twenties, but Evie married Shane’s daddy when she was just a kid, barely eighteen. Her mother hated it, hated him, tried her best to stop it. But things were changing during the late sixties, and rebellion was in the air, even in Mercer. He was going off to Vietnam, and he didn’t want to lose Evie. Neither of them was old enough to realize he might not come back. Which he didn’t.”

  He pointed to a young boy at Evie’s side, who had the same dark hair and blue eyes, and looked about ten years old. “That’s Shane there. He came along seven months after his daddy left. David and I did the best we could, but it was hard for him not knowing his father. I suspect that’s why he joined the Army early.” He paused. “And he wanted Evie to tell you about David.”

  Jake glanced at Mason. “He knew David and Stephanie pretty well, too, but Karen was only eight or nine when Shane left, so she didn’t have him to fill in any blanks, either. They made him a medic, sent him to the Middle East, so he spent more time away.”

  Mason looked from the picture to Karen’s face as she traced the outlines of her mother and father, surprised at the wonder and affection in her face. An awful thought occurred to him. “Don’t tell me these are the first pictures you’ve seen of them!”

  Karen barely glanced at him. “Not the first, although I only have a couple. Pictures of vacations that Mama let me keep.”

  Mason turned his scowl on Jake, who put up one hand. “I warned you. Evie controls everything where her sister is concerned. She even has most of Karen’s inheritance in escrow until she turns thirty, managed by one of the family mutual fund brokers. The Steens are…very private people.”

  “But this is her family! This is her birthright. How in the world did she get an inheritance put off until Karen turns thirty?”

  Karen put a hand on his arm. “Let it go, Mason. It’s okay. In a way, Aunt Evie was right. I was always in trouble. I don’t know if I could have handled everything when I was a kid. Not sure I can handle it now….” Her words faded as her fingers traced again the figure of her mother, a beautiful young woman with the same narrow face, bright eyes and thick strawberry-gold hair. “We used to laugh about our hair.” Her voice turned low and throaty as memories seemed to swirl around her. “We wanted that straight dark hair that Evie had, so lovely and easy to fix. Ours was always tangled and so many clothes clashed with the color. One time…” She paused, smiling shyly. “One time Mama even braided our hair together.” She drew a finger from her temple down to the couch to indicate the length of her mom’s hair. “Down this side. Thick. We laughed so much that day, trying to keep up with each other. She wound up carrying me half the day so we wouldn’t pull our hair out. She said it was a sign we’d never be parted—”

  “Jake Abernathy! What are you doing!”

  All three of them snapped to their feet, Karen clutching the box to her chest. An enraged Evangeline Abernathy stood in the arched entry from the main hallway, her son, Shane, at her back. Fury had tightened the lines in Evie’s face into deep grooves, and her cheeks flared red. “How dare you violate my private space!”

  Jake stepped forward, his voice calm. “Evie, you knew it had to happen sooner or later. These belong to Karen. You know Stephanie would want her to have them.”

  “I know no such—”

  “Especially now.”

  Evie hesitated. “Why now?”

  “Her nightmares are back.”

  Evie’s resolve faltered. “You…You should have told me. We should have discussed it.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Disarmed but still angry, Evie snapped, “Come see me when you’re done.” She turned on her heels and stomped up the stairs.

  Shane shot a thumb’s-up at Jake, but shook his head. “Right choice, wrong time, Jake old man.”

  Jake barely moved. “Shoo,” he said simply.

  Shane grinned and trotted up the stairs after his mother.

  Mason stared after them, disbelieving. The
woman who had been so supportive after yesterday’s fiasco had come into the room, screamed at her husband and left without even acknowledging that Karen was in the room. No wonder Karen hadn’t wanted to come back here when trouble hit.

  He turned back to see Jake watching him. The older man cleared his throat. “Not everything is as it seems, Mason.”

  A dozen responses flitted through Mason’s head. He finally took a deep breath and settled on “I hope so” as the safest.

  Jake smothered a laugh as Karen looked at him. Then she sank back down on the sofa with the box in her lap. She pulled out a bundle of letters and photos. “From friends in San Francisco,” Jake explained. Two baby teeth in a small drawstring bag. “She felt two made it cute but three was overkill.” A lock of Karen’s hair and her first report card. Finally, at the bottom, there were two white envelopes, both sealed. As she pulled them out, she looked at Jake, waiting for his explanation.

  Her uncle hesitated. “One of these was already in the box. One we found on Stephanie’s desk. Evie didn’t want anyone to see it.”

  She opened one and her eyes narrowed in puzzlement at first, then widened in disbelief. “It’s to me.” Her hands trembled, causing the paper to flutter slightly, as she read.

  My darling Karen,

  Mother and Evie have been pressuring David and me to get our wills in order, which we’ve done. But I’ve decided that you need a legacy of more than money, just in case something happens to your father and me before you’re grown.

  So I’ve decided to write a series of letters to you and put them away. If life goes without incident, then you’ll be reading this at college, my “good luck with your future, darling” gift, just for you.

  If you are, in fact, reading these words at a different time, then I hope you are someplace where you’re warm, safe and well cared for. We never meant anything to happen that would hurt you. Your father and I love you more than we thought possible. Someday I hope you have children as beautiful and loving as you are, so you can fully understand our love for the daughter we cherish so much.

  As I write this, you are wandering around the house singing “Tomorrow” at the top of your lungs. We’re headed for the Annie audition in a few days, and you amaze me with your voice and your energy. I hope you get the part.

  I also hope that you grow strong, and are a woman worthy of God and all those around you. You leave a bright light among us, everywhere you go, and I hope that light never dims. No matter what anyone says about us, know that we loved you and never did anything unworthy of your love. Trust God, and keep a weather eye on the horizon.

  Love,

  Mama

  By the time she finished, Karen’s eyes were bright, her voice tremulous. She folded the letter slowly and slipped it back in the envelope. She licked tears off her lips as she gently returned the envelope to the box. “Now, this I needed to hear long ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jake whispered.

  She nodded, then handed Mason the other envelope. “I can’t.”

  Mason took it. “Are you sure?”

  Another nod, and he removed the paper inside. At the top of the page was a note in Stephanie O’Neill’s handwriting, but it was brief and to the point. The reply at the bottom was in a more angular, masculine handwriting, and as Mason scanned the words, his stomach tightened into a painful knot. “This we have to take to Fletcher.”

  Jake and Karen’s surprise turned to alarm as he read.

  David, I beg you not to go through with this. PLEASE. You have no idea the risk you’re taking. This isn’t just about money. There is far too much at stake. PLEASE. I love you.

  S—

  Babe, I understand, but don’t worry. I’ve taken the right precautions. We’ll be fine.

  Jake leaned back in his chair. “Apparently he did not take enough of the right precautions.”

  EIGHT

  “You realize we haven’t really connected what happened to your parents to what’s happening now, right? No proof that the face in your dream and on those vases is the one who murdered your parents.”

  Karen took the letters back from Fletcher and went to stand so close to Mason that their arms touched. “I know. I mean, I’ve fought the idea for years. It’s weird, too much like a bad horror movie idea. But it’s just getting…a little odd, don’t you think? I mean, obviously Jake thinks there’s a connection, and he and Daddy were best friends….” Karen knew she sounded desperate and unsure, but, in a way, she was. The deep sense of frustration, confusion and grief over the events of the past two days had become almost overwhelming. There had to be an answer to all this somewhere. Something concrete. “I know it would be easier if I actually recognized the face. I just don’t. This isn’t just about broken vases. A man died, Fletcher. No one kills because he doesn’t like a piece of art!”

  “No sane person, anyway.” Mason’s dry voice indicated he thought the killer was crazy, no matter what the reasons.

  “So what if I’m sitting on the same kind of information that got my parents killed, without even knowing it?”

  Fletcher’s gaze went over both of them slowly, then he glanced toward the back wall, and Karen heard a door opening, the one leading to the deck. Finally, he looked back at them and sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to Tyler. We’ll go through this again. Maybe this time we’ll turn up some ideas of what your father was up to that brought on this trouble. Nothing I’ve heard from this chat you had with Jake indicates David was doing anything illegal. But maybe more modern research methods will show his legal activities crossed paths with something less legitimate. And, after all, just being legal doesn’t mean you don’t make enemies. Buying houses to flip them is common around here, so a lot of his business would have been in the public record.”

  “But not as David O’Neill.”

  They turned to see Jake entering. “I talked to Evie, and she’s agreed to a couple of things.” He focused on Karen. “One is to explain more about your father’s business, and see if there’s any connection that might explain your dreams. Another is to talk to you about your own past, what you’ve heard around town and what’s true.”

  He pointed behind him. “You know that path from your house to the old Elkins place? Well, it picks up on the other side off their yard and leads directly here. Most folks wouldn’t know it because they haven’t explored the Elkins backyard.”

  Fletcher held up both hands. “One thing at a time. Let’s start with the business. What do you mean, ‘not as David O’Neill’?”

  Jake motioned to the sofas. “Let’s sit. This may take a while, and I’m getting too old to stand and talk for very long.” They settled, and Jake cleared his throat. “David had a front company. If you’re going to look for real estate transactions in the mid-eighties, you’ll need to search for SDKM Realty Holdings. The first thing you’ll probably see is where he mortgaged the farm—literally, in this case—to make his first investments. That’s how he got his original capital.”

  Fletcher took a glass from the tray Maggie carried. “All real estate sales are a matter of public record. Should be easy to find what properties he worked with.”

  Karen’s confusion heightened. “I thought you said this might be about my mother?”

  Fletcher nodded. “That’s what the crime scene tells me. But I’m the outsider. It’s just a theory. We need more info on everything.”

  Mason slid closer to Karen and touched her arm. “There might be an easier way than stirring up attention by digging through a lot of public records.”

  “What do you suggest?” Fletcher asked.

  Mason turned to Jake. “Did you say that the farm hasn’t been touched since they died?”

  His eyes brightened. “Indeed it has not.”

  Mason kept his eyes on Karen. “I don’t know about here, but where I come from, most Realtors keep a home office.”

  “The police probably went through it thoroughly at the time,” Fletcher said.

  Mason took Karen’s hand. “
But not with the hindsight of twenty years.”

  Karen rolled her shoulders back. She didn’t know how this could get any more painful, but the tension in all her muscles told her she was in for a rough ride. Yet it had to be done.

  Jake cleared his throat. “That’s where I come in.” When they all turned to look at him, he pointed toward the back of the lodge. “That farm is halfway between the old logging road and the Elkins place.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a heavy key chain. “And I have the key.”

  Fletcher drove, and his sedan got scraped on all sides by overgrown brush and low-hanging trees. The logging road had been abandoned for many years. Only one home on it remained occupied, and the owner rode a bicycle. About five hundred yards down the road, Jake motioned for Fletcher to stop.

  “There used to be a drive that branched off from this road, but it’s been overgrown for years, and the path isn’t much better. It’s not exactly a blazed trail. My guess is that deer and the occasional kid wandering through have kept it as beat down as it is.” He focused on Karen. “How are you feeling?”

  “Angry,” she said softly. “And hurt.” She looked about the wooded scene, the blank spots in her memory creating a growing ache in her chest. “I have these tiny memories of Mama and Daddy, and they get further and further away every year.” She looked at Mason, suddenly anxious to see how he reacted to her memory loss. “When I woke up in the hospital, I had lost a lot of my memory. I knew who I was and, vaguely, what had happened. I didn’t remember where I’d lived…Now I’m thinking Aunt Evie didn’t want me to remember, that a clean break with the past was better than a seven-year-old who constantly begged to go home.”

  Mason tilted his head to one side and a curled lock drooped over his forehead. “Then she was wrong. What she did probably impeded your grieving.” Fletcher twisted more in his seat and started to speak, but Mason continued, his tone firm and even but determined. “Yet if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all I went through with my folks, it’s that redrawing the past with ‘what ifs’ is a huge waste of time and mental space.”