The Tattered Thread

by B. A. Braxton

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Despite the lighthearted conversation which had occurred sporadically during most of the evening, Elaine could tell that Tasia was preoccupied with more serious matters. Every now and then Zach would give her a hug or a kiss, but she was obviously too worried about Vic to enjoy any of it. He’d gone to bring liquor up from the wine cellar, but he never bothered to come back to the dinner table. Consequently, he missed Tasia’s delectable shortcake and white chocolate cream, and she missed not knowing what he was up to.

  Tasia spent a great deal of time at the back door saying goodnight to Zach. He had to move to New York state in the morning, and he wanted to get an early start. He’d tried to persuade Vic to come up from the wine cellar earlier, but the old guy had simply refused. A fistfight followed by a half nelson would’ve been the only way of convincing Vic to leave the liquor bottles alone.

  Zach and Tasia’s relationship was the kind people searched a lifetime for; their time together was too short and their good-byes were long. The only harsh words they’d ever spoken to one another were about Vic, Tasia’s being inclined to mother him and Zach’s being more than happy to let him live his life anyway he chose. Also, Zach was a sharp critic of Tasia’s drug abuse and was looking forward to helping her get off the stuff. But all was forgiven whenever they had to say good night, as they did now in the doorway under a clear, cool evening sky.

  Tasia held him playfully by the collar, and he found particular pleasure in holding her body close to him. They kissed again, and it was a deep, sensual show of affection. It was doubtful if an entire night would’ve been sufficient for their formal farewells. Afterward, she put her head against his chest and caressed his back, her lips pouting at the prospect of having to let him go just one more time.

  Still sipping what was left of the hot cup of tea she’d had with dessert, Elaine wandered into the kitchen to wait until they were through. When Zach finally gathered the strength to pull himself away, Tasia came into the kitchen, but unlike what Elaine had expected, she didn’t stop to talk. Instead, she headed down to the basement. “What’s up, Tasia?” Elaine asked, following her.

  “I’m looking for Vic,” she said, turning on the hall light and then descending the stairs.

  Tasia stood beside a small figurine at the base of the steps and pushed it aside, exposing a spare key in a cup under it. Taking the key from its place, she went to the wine cellar and unlocked the door. Lying flat and prone on the dirt floor inside, Vic dozed like a baby with a row of bottles standing beside him and resembling the bars on a crib. His left cheek was flush against the floor, and every time he snored, his breath stirred up a cloud of dust. That dust would consequently flare up enough to make him cough, snort, and then smack his lips together. The four empty wine bottles next to him told the story, and boy, was it short and sweet.

  “Vic,” Tasia said, coming inside the room and rolling him onto his back. She examined his face carefully. “Would you help me sit him up, Elaine?”

  Together they pulled him up to a sitting position, propping his back against one of the walls. Bottles clinking against one another instinctively aroused him. After the initial excitement, however, his chin dropped down to his chest and he never reacted to anything else again. “Wow, he’s practically comatose,” Elaine said. “I’d be worried if I couldn’t hear him breathing.”

  “He always drinks too much,” Tasia said, glancing over her shoulder. “He does everything too much. We’re a lot alike.”

  “How are we going to get him up the stairs? I mean, he must weigh close to two hundred pounds.”

  “He’s going to walk.”

  Elaine laughed; she just couldn’t help herself. “A corpse would have a better chance,” she said.

  Tasia glanced at her sharply. “We can get him up,” she said, trying to convince herself of that more than Elaine. “We can.”

  After several valiant attempts to revive Vic enough to encourage him to help them out, Tasia gave up. He’d consumed at least four bottles of wine, in addition to what he’d had at dinner, and had been working on a fifth when he finally passed out. The only thing strong enough to move him now was either a crane or gravity. Soon he slipped down from the sitting position they’d put him in and he grunted when his shoulder hit the floor. Tasia sat down beside him, drawing her legs up close to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees.

  “I could get Cameron to help us get him back up the stairs,” Elaine suggested, trying to make up for that corpse crack she’d made.

  “We may have to get some help. Otherwise, Vic will be sleeping on this cold, damp floor all night.”

  “Don’t worry, Cameron will be able to lift him.” Elaine started to stand up, but she stopped when Tasia grabbed her by the arm. Hesitating, Elaine knelt back down again.

  “I’m scared,” Tasia said, letting her go and staring at the floor.

  “About what?”

  “I’m not sure if Vic killed Carl or not.”

  “Vic was plastered the night Mr. Kastenmeier got murdered. Detective Connery even said he had the best alibi in the room.”

  “Yeah, but did he get wasted before or after Carl was killed?”

  “He was still standing when the boss died, but just barely,” Elaine said. “And today he couldn’t remember a thing about it.”

  “Maybe there were other things that went on last night that he wasn’t able to recall today.”

  “Look, Vic is a terrifically talented drinker, and sure he loses his temper every now and then, but there’s no way….”

  “This all belongs to my father, you know,” Tasia said, changing the subject. Looking at things in the wine cellar as if seeing them for the very first time, she then stared up at the wooden ceiling. “This should be Vic’s. All of it.”

  “You mean the house?”

  “The house, the varnish business, everything.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Vic was the one who developed the varnish that made Carl rich,” she clarified, and Elaine found the news astonishing. No one ever accuses a drunk of being a smart man.

  “No kidding? I’d heard you mention something about it before, but I thought you were snowing the boss, just trying to make him angry.”

  “No, it’s true,” Tasia said, looking at Elaine and nodding. “Vic was working for Carl back then, doing research in one of his laboratories. Carl supplied him with all the chemicals he needed to work with, especially when he realized that he was onto something big.”

  “Gee, Vic must be a gifted scientist.”

  “You betcha.” Tasia smiled as if dreaming of the way things used to be and perhaps how they might’ve been. “Vic discovered a formula unlike any ever developed before. An ideal varnish, one that protects paintings from atmospheric impurities, can be applied in thin layers, is completely transparent and colorless…. One that preserves the elasticity of the paint film under it. A varnish that doesn’t bloom, isn’t glossy, and is very easy to remove.” Her enthusiasm was clear to see. “Its cohesion and elasticity allows for ordinary changes in atmospheric conditions and temperature. It was a brilliant discovery. When Vic understood what he had, he was so proud of himself. After years of living in his brother’s shadow, he was able to do something no one else had ever done before. Not even Carl.”

  “What happened to turn his good fortune around?”

  “Carl bilked Vic out of the discovery and took all the credit for himself. You see, Vic is a very intelligent man, but he’s also a weak man. It’s easy to take advantage of him because of his drinking problem.

  “After stealing Vic’s idea,” Tasia continued, “Carl hired a team of researchers to develop other products from that original concept. Some of the best legal counsel in Michigan established Carl’s right to patent the products early on, and the rest is history. He made millions, and his company is still churning out a healthy profit not only from sales, but from stocks and investments as well.” Pausing, she shook her head. “That son of a bitch. I
hate him.”

  “I’m sorry it all had to happen that way,” Elaine said, caressing her shoulder. Tasia nodded, accepting the sympathy. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

  “The more I hated Carl, the more he wanted me. I couldn’t get rid of him. He used Vic’s vulnerabilities to keep me here. I had to take his bullshit and abuse and like it.

  “I also blame him for keeping my parents apart,” Tasia continued. “They never got married, not even after I was born.”

  “Why?”

  “Carl convinced Vic that I wasn’t his child. Seeing other people happier than he was used to drive Carl crazy. Anyway to prove things, Carl had a paternity test performed after my mother died. When he found out that Vic really was my father, he did everything he could to keep us apart. Vic’s being an alcoholic never helped his case.”

  “When did Mr. Kastenmeier start abusing you?”

  “As soon as I moved in, Elaine. He sexually molested me at first and then started sleeping with me on my twelfth birthday. Carl was a sick bastard, and I’m glad he’s dead. The ironic thing is, Carl was such an upstanding citizen, a pillar of the community, that no one would’ve believed me if I’d told them what he was doing to me. Children don’t have a voice. Not really.”

  “Does Vic know what Mr. Kastenmeier was doing to you?”

  “Lord, I hope not.” Tasia was silent for a moment. “One good thing came from Vic’s varnish discovery, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The varnish he developed brought Zach Cutteridge into my life.”

  “True.”

  “I really love Zach. I admit I’ve been promiscuous. But my acting that way was more a consequence of self-loathing rather than an interest in sex. I felt like a whore, so I figured I should act like one.” She stared at the wall lined with champagne, rosés, and cognac. “Besides, Carl hated my whoring around, and I loved doing things that got under his skin.”

  Vic’s snoring intensified as if on cue. His daughter had been confessing her deepest, darkest secrets, and he’d missed every word. Lots of things probably passed old Vic by, his always being the first to drink and the last one to stop.

  Tasia smiled as she reached over and caressed Vic’s hair. “I really love my father, though.”

  “I know you do.”

  At least Tasia and Vic were still together, and she had Zach now as well. Whoever killed Carl did everyone a favor, especially Tasia. It was quite possible that whoever killed him loved and cared for her very much.