Worse Than Being Alone

by Patricia M. Clark

  “That sounds good,” Lionel said. “Also, if you could get pictures of the driver and Ho I might be able to figure out who they really are. Fingerprints would be awesome.”

  “We’ll do the best we can,” I said as Cindy nodded.

  “I’m still trying to figure out who really owns that house on Shaw Avenue,” Lionel said. “Supposedly a company called Sunny Day owns it. I think it’s a shell company. I’m still digging.”

  “Maybe we should get some pictures at Shaw, too,” I said.

  “It can’t hurt,” Lionel said. “We’re just assuming we know what’s going on there.”

  “What are we assuming is going on?” Cindy asked.

  “We think Ho is running a whorehouse,” I said.

  “Oh, my,” Cindy said.

  “You need to be careful no one spots you,” Lionel said. “David Tran is not someone you want to mess with. He has a couple of arrests for assault but never went to trial because the complaining witnesses disappeared.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next morning, Roni felt somewhat ambivalent while she sipped coffee on her porch, waiting for Harley to return from the gas station with her Explorer. A chronic worrier, Harley always checked Roni’s ride before she went farther than a few miles. Roni fought off impatient thoughts and tried to focus only on Harley’s protective motives, a process made more difficult when she spotted storm clouds gathering in the distance.

  Dust rising on the gravel road marked Harley’s return. Roni put her mug in the sink, picked up her briefcase, and changed places with Harley when he pulled up in front of the house. A quick kiss and Roni was finally on her way.

  Gravel roads gave way to blacktop and finally, the interstate. Roni set the cruise control, checking her rearview mirror frequently because black clouds seemed to be chasing her as she drove to Springfield. Fierce late summer storms had been forecast and Roni prayed she could outrun them. The three-hour drive would provide Roni the perfect opportunity to consider what she was doing. Despite Ronnie Fitzgerald’s carefully couched words, he left little doubt that he felt Marian had something to do with his brother’s death. Was that reality or vindictive bitterness?

  For that matter, she wasn’t sure about her own motives. Was she the jealous daughter out to get the evil stepmother under the dishonest guise of just seeking the truth? Food for thought Roni decided. The other can of worms worth considering before opening was what if she won the battle but lost the proverbial war? What if her father found out what she was doing and totally rejected her?

  Would it be easier to live with his rejection or something adverse happening to her father because she ignored the danger Marian posed?

  Roni couldn’t convince herself to quit looking into Marian’s past. Her little nagging voice wouldn’t leave her alone until she made her choice. Two hours into the trip with all options explored, Roni reached a verdict: investigate until she reached a dead end. Years ago, Roni learned not to revisit decisions once she made them. So it would be full steam ahead. Roni’s thoughts turned to the man she was on her way to meet.

  According to the synopsis Lionel had provided, Glenn Barton was 62 and the owner of a huge sporting goods operation called Outdoor Mart. There were two other stores, one in St. Louis and one in the Chicago area. Glenn Barton’s father, Dennis Barton, had been married to Marian for two years before his untimely death.

  During her conversation with Glenn Barton to set up the interview, Roni’s curiosity had been piqued. He seemed almost eager to meet with her, which seemed somewhat strange to Roni, who guarded her family’s secrets like the proverbial hawk. Barton had invited Roni to meet him for lunch at a local Springfield restaurant called the Blue Moon.

  Tired of thinking, Roni started returning phone calls. Just as she pulled up in front of the Blue Moon, a storm caught up with her. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and huge raindrops pounded the pavement as she ran through the entrance to the charming restaurant, which seemed to be modeled on an old style tearoom.

  Crystal chandeliers mounted throughout the space sparkled, flooding Roni’s thoughts with memories of her last encounter with a crystal chandelier. As a child, she had shattered her mother’s prized chandelier while playing with a friend. Her parents were gone at the time so Roni and her friend had repaired the shattered glass with nail polish the best they could. That quick fix had worked well until Roni’s mother washed the glass pieces in hot water laced with ammonia a few months later, not understanding why the glass fell apart with a simple cleaning. Guilt flooded Roni’s mind as she waited for the hostess.

  Roni was shown to a small private room in the back where a tall, thin man with a ready smile stood as she was led back to the table. Fresh flowers, linen tablecloths, and antique dishes and flatware covered the table, which had been placed in the large bay window with lace curtains. It was so dark because of the storm that the lighted candles on the table seemed to give off an eerie glow. Glenn Barton pointed to a chair and thanked the hostess, who dropped off Roni and menus.

  “It’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Edelin,” Glenn Barton said as he shook Roni’s hand.

  “Call me Roni. You were so nice on the phone I feel like I already know you.”

  “I always knew someone would call me someday,” he said. “I’m a little surprised it took this long.”

  “Really. I was thinking on the drive down that maybe I should quit digging around.”

  “What did you decide?” he asked as Roni noticed his compelling green eyes.

  “I can’t let it go. Believe me, I wish I could, but it’s just not me.”

  “I think that’s a good decision,” he said. “Years ago, I told my brother someone was going to come to us some day and ask about Marian.”

  The waitress came and took their order as rain pelted the window.

  “I’m going to tell you my story,” Glenn said. “You’ll have to decide how bitter or biased I am. Of course, if you talk to my brother Jay, you’ll get a completely different story.”

  Roni wasn’t sure how to respond to Glenn’s last comment. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Glenn said. “Jay is my older brother. Our father married Jay’s mother after she got pregnant. She didn’t have the best reputation but he felt responsible. This happened during World War II. My dad got drafted and was stationed in Europe. Jay’s mother had a drinking problem that got so out of control she had to be hospitalized. My dad came home on emergency leave, and my grandmother ended up taking care of Jay until after the war ended. When he got back, he divorced Jay’s mother and eventually married my mother.”

  “So, Jay is your half brother?”

  “That’s right,” he said as the waitress delivered their salads. “I think my mom treated us both equally, but I’m sure Jay would quibble with that assessment. We both went to college and grad school. Jay is a civil rights attorney. My mother inherited quite a bit of money. She was very close to my wife, Barbara. She called her the daughter she never had. My mother died a few years before my dad and left us money in trusts. My parents lived in the house where my mother was born. She left it to Barbara, Jay, and me with the proviso that my father could live there until he died. My father also had money in trusts. In addition, he had a pension and Social Security. After my mother died, my father was very lonely.”

  “Enter Marian and her kids.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “This sounds really familiar, right? When you told me your mother had recently died and that your father was lonely when he met Marian, I knew I had to meet with you. Have you met Vickie and Murray?”

  “Yes, but I’ve only been around them a few times. My father seems to like them as far as I can tell.”

  “They were barely teenagers when I knew them,” he said. “I really didn’t interact with them very much. Marian just seemed to swoop in and kept telling my father he was getting a second family. They married and Marian immediately began trying to get her han
ds on the money. Unfortunately for her, most of the money was tied up in trusts and she couldn’t get her hands on it. That’s when she made a fatal mistake.”

  “What was that?”

  “She decided to trust Jay,” he said. “She went to him to help her get some of the money. Big mistake. Jay strung her along to get her signatures on the documents he needed. He raided my Dad’s trust funds and even had my Dad’s pension and Social Security checks sent to him. He cut Marian totally out of the deal.”

  “What did Marian do?”

  “She called me and complained they were penniless,” he said. “I talked to Jay who basically refused to discuss the issue. I discovered all the money in my father’s trust funds was gone.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “I was able to get the pension and Social Security checks sent to my father again,” he said. “So, at least they had money to live on. My father seemed to get sicker and sicker and died about nine months later.”

  “I bet Marian had him cremated, didn’t she?”

  “How did you know that?” he asked.

  “It fits her pattern. Did you have any doubts about why your father died?”

  “Not so much at first,” he said. “You have to understand, Marian and Jay poisoned my father’s mind against me and my wife so we didn’t see him that much. A couple months after he died, I started thinking about everything and got suspicious. Of course, it was too late at that point.”

  “Who got the money from your father’s trust?”

  “Jay got most of it,” Glen said. “Once Jay got what he needed from Marian, he cut her out of the deal except for the house.”

  “She got the house?”

  “No, I think the idea was to rub salt into the wound,” he said. “Marian insisted she had nowhere to go and she deserved the house because she was married to my dad. I think Jay just went along with her staying there. My wife and I owned two thirds. Eventually, we were able to get Marian evicted and we sold the house.”

  “So, Jay got his third?”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I guess we could have tried to sue to get some of the money from the trusts back but we decided just to let it go. Marian and Jay destroyed my family. My father and I were estranged for the last couple of years of his life. I haven’t talked to Jay since my father’s funeral and don’t intend to. He destroyed whatever chance we had at a relationship.”

  “Have you heard from Marian?”

  “No, I haven’t spoken to Marian since the funeral either,” he said. “I heard she left town a couple of weeks after she was evicted. So, does any of this sound familiar?”

  “The part about swooping in sure fits. Do you remember if your dad had a life insurance policy or if Marian gave your father homeopathic or herbal medicines?”

  “Yes, he had life insurance from New York Life,” he said. “I think she got about a million dollars. Do you think she’s poisoning your father?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m getting mad all over again,” he said. “Maybe she killed my dad, too. You have to stop her.”

  “We’re jumping to a lot of conclusions here and we can’t prove anything. Maybe Marian is just an opportunist.”

  “As opposed to what?” he asked.

  “A con artist and serial killer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Cindy and I were drinking lattes from a Starbucks drive through while we waited outside The King’s Wok for Ho Chi Minh. Cindy had napkins wrapped around her paper cup to keep from getting germs or worse from the Starbucks employees. I was trying to figure out whether it was the caffeine from the coffee that was making Cindy so agitated or her underlying condition.

  “Are you OK, Cindy?”

  “Yeah, I’m just nervous,” she said. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Quit worrying about that. Help me understand what life is like for you.”

  “You don’t want to know,” she said with a bitter laugh.

  “Actually, I do. If you’re going to follow her in there, you can’t look so freaked out. Talk to me.”

  “I guess it’s like a classic panic attack,” Cindy said. “I can feel my heart beating. I get sweaty palms and an adrenaline rush. The meds help. You know, on one level, I understand what’s happening. I just have to work at controlling it.”

  “You seem better than you were in high school.”

  “Better meds,” she said. “Actually, I found a new therapist last year and started CBT.”

  “That’s Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to have some real hope,” she said. “The cognitive part helps me change the thinking patterns that support my fears, and the behavioral part helps me change the way I react to anxiety-provoking situations.”

  “Who is your new therapist?”

  “Tara Morgan,” Cindy said. “I heard about her over a year ago. I had to wait a few months to get in but it was worth it. She believes in Exposure-Behavioral Therapy. For instance, I get my hands dirty and wait a little longer each time to wash them. Also, I cut down on the amount of washing so I’m not in the bathroom that long.”

  “That makes a lot of sense. Is it hard for you to drink coffee someone else has made?”

  “It’s horrible,” Cindy said. “My mind is screaming at me not to drink this because of all the germs. That’s why I’m nervous. I keep trying to breathe normally and do all those relaxation techniques I’ve learned. This is the best therapy I’ve tried. It’s gotten me to the point of actually trying to do things. I’m sure you think I’m the craziest person you’ve ever known.”

  “No, my mother still gets the top spot in my world. Look, Cindy, everybody has issues.”

  “Yeah, sure, everyone says that,” she said. “Ok, fess up, what are your issues?”

  “Well, one day, out of the blue, I threw my kid out of the car, left him on the side of the road, and ran away from home. Granted, my son was 17, and I still think the walk home did him some good. You know, most people run away when they’re teenagers. I was 35. No plan. I was fed up so I went home, packed, and went to the airport. I decided Anchorage looked far enough away. Most of my family doesn’t like winter. They do vacations at the beach, so I didn’t think I’d get visitors. As it turned out, I was right.”

  “Why did you do it?” she asked.

  “I started thinking about that after I got settled in Anchorage. I think I was afraid one of my sibs would try and talk me out of it. We were raised to be responsible no matter what lousy hand you got dealt. I just totally rejected that idea. It was the most frightening and exhilarating experience of my life. My husband, James, was an alcoholic, and I was tired of trying to fix him. He isn’t even a minister anymore. He works at Quick Trip.”

  “What about your son?” she asked.

  “Yeah, the proverbial fly in the ointment or actions have consequences scenario. I did what I thought I needed to do for me and I abandoned him. That’s the only part I regret and mostly the reason I came back. We’re working on our relationship. He’s still angry, but at least he’s talking to me. After I left, he started going to Al-Anon meetings, studied hard, and ended up getting scholarships. I had been trying to get him to do all that before I left.”

  “Sounds like he grew up a lot,” Cindy said. “Maybe it was what he needed, too.”

  “I hope that’s true. Guilt is always a mother’s cross to bear. So you see, Cindy, everyone has baggage.”

  “True, but I can’t tell that by looking at you,” Cindy said. “I’ve always felt like I have this neon light on my forehead constantly blinking: ‘freaking nuts’.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Come on, Kitty,” she said. “Kids in high school called me Crazy Cindy to my face.”

  Lucky for me, my response was delayed by the arrival of Ho in the familiar black Mustang. Ho jumped out of the car, hurried up the steps, and disappeared into the restaurant while I snapped pictures. The driver
didn’t get out of the car and pulled away immediately.

  “OK, Cindy, I get your point but the way to stop the blinking light is your therapy. Today, we take some baby steps. I’ll order takeout and you go in to pick it up. You can get some idea what Ho is doing in there. Whether she’s in the back or serving food or whatever. That’s it.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I can handle that. Make the call and I’ll go in.”

  I ordered egg rolls and Cashew Chicken, wondering if Cindy would actually eat any of the food. She usually resisted take out or going to a restaurant for a meal. Ten minutes later, I watched Cindy cross the street and disappear into The King’s Wok. My cell phone blurted its little jingle and I answered.

  “Hey Roni, what’s up?”

  “I just finished talking to Glenn Barton,” she said. “He thinks Marian is a greedy person who ruined his family.”

  “Nobody you meet on this road trip has anything good to say about Marian, do they?”

  “How are things on your end?” she asked.

  “Cindy just went into the restaurant to get takeout. So far, nobody’s running out in panic.”

  “I’m glad you’re giving her a chance,” she said.

  “She told me kids in high school used to call her Crazy Cindy to her face.”

  “As opposed to everyone else who thought it or said behind her back.”

  “Guilty. You were always very tolerant of Cindy.”

  “I didn’t have a crazy mother to deal with,” she said. “I think you had your hands full back then.”

  “True, but it’s never too late to try and help someone. She just wants to be normal. Where are you off to next?”

  “I’m going to see the other brother,” she said. “You would have already nicknamed them Cain and Abel.”

  “I’m glad you’re learning something from me. Is it an appropriate nickname?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight