Sinister Justice

by Steve Pickens

  Sam called Ayer’s Fencing mid-week and had them construct a new fence with a stone foundation and cedar top that cut off any view of the trail. They had also run the new fence along Leona’s backyard, blocking it from view. Curiously, the old woman hadn’t come out to raise fresh hell about the installation of the fence. This had surprised Jake and rendered him deeply suspicious. He suspected Leona Weinberg was plotting something.

  Jake and Sam had debated about rebuilding the fence between their house and the Simonton’s as the existing fence wasn’t high enough to block out the Simontons’ nude hot tub sessions, which took place at any time of the day or night year round. Jake and Sam genuinely liked Mr. and Mrs. Simonton despite their proclivity for nudism and did not want to offend them by suddenly building a new high fence. They had almost gotten used to seeing the elderly couple in the buff.

  The new fence highlighted the fact that the backyard was woefully in need of landscaping. After making some sketches, the pair had resolved to put in the rhododendron garden as soon as spring arrived.

  Jake found himself doodling at his desk instead of writing. His notebook was filling up with sketches and plant names instead of prose. He was happy he had something else to channel his energy into so as not to bulk up with the weight lifting and end up resembling a short, peach-colored Incredible Hulk.

  Jake still had not talked to Jason, although he would try to make an effort to do as soon. Jason was suddenly acting furtive and up to something. Jake didn’t think it was anything bad. His brother’s mood had elevated suddenly, which Jake was happy to see, so he knew something had changed. As soon as the time was right, he’d ask.

  * * *

  As the weekend approached, Jake noticed Sam suddenly became accident-prone. Tuesday, he’d found Sam with a bandage around his hand. Sam said he’d burned himself on the electric kettle while making tea. Wednesday found him with a cut over his eye where he’d clubbed himself on an overhanging cupboard door in the kitchen of his office. Thursday, Sam scared the hell out of Jake when he’d fallen down the porch steps.

  “What’s with you, anyway?” Jake had asked once he’d made sure he was all right.

  Sam had muttered something incomprehensible, then wandered back to his office.

  Friday morning, while Jake was eating a raisin cinnamon English muffin and chatting with his brother over coffee, an unholy crash echoed down from Sam’s office. Jake and Jason ran out the kitchen door and up the back steps to the office where they found Sam partially under his file cabinet.

  “Are you okay?” Jake asked, exasperated. He could tell by looking at Sam that he’d suffered no damage.

  Jason scratched his bearded chin. “You’ve had your share of accidents this week.”

  A light went on in Jake’s head. “I know what it is,” he said, snapping his fingers. “It’s Mom, isn’t it?”

  Sam looked sheepishly at the Finnigan brothers. “No, of course not.”

  “Samuel Patrick O’Conner, you’re a lousy liar,” said Jake, yanking Sam to his feet.

  “It’s not your mother per se.”

  “It’s the way she delivers news,” agreed Jason, looking out the window of Sam’s office. An unusual number of crows had gathered around the side kitchen door. “Like Castle Bravo test at Bikini Atoll.”

  “Exactly. Your mother hasn’t been up here in months. The last time she was here, she dropped the bomb about your Aunt Hattie.”

  “Aunt Harriet,” said Jake uneasily, a building sense of dread developing in the pit of his stomach. He knew Sam was right.

  “Whatever. The result was the same. Aunt Harriet was hauled away to the local basket weaving academy.”

  “It was a rest home.”

  “Yes, the kind with bars on the windows and padded cells,” cracked Jason.

  “She needed a rest,” said Jake.

  “I would too if I had attacked Uncle George with a pair of pruning shears,” Jason replied. He began counting the crows next door. “What do you call a big group of crows? It’s not a flock, I know that…”

  “The time before that, she came up here to let you know your aunt’s house burned down,” Sam said.

  “I know, I know. At least they were insured.”

  “A clutch?” Jason said. “No, that’s chickens, I think.”

  “And before that, it was to let you know that no fewer than five of your cousins in California had died at Easter dinner having consumed a lethal pot of clam chowder,” Sam reminded him. He turned to Jason and said, “It’s a murder of crows, Jason.”

  “Bad clams can happen to anyone. And they were second cousins. Not that it makes it any better.”

  “Admit it, Jake, when it comes to news our mother is a one woman broadcast network of gloom and despair. You should have seen some of the emails I got when I was in San Francisco. ‘Your father cut his toe off with the lawnmower, your cat got run over by the mailman, the transmission fell out of my car, Grandma put too much nutmeg in the muffins and ended up in the hospital, Amy thinks she’s pregnant, your brother found a dead body on the ferry…’”

  “Why doesn’t she ever give any warning over the phone?” Jake grumbled.

  “She likes giving the personal touch,” replied Jason. “What’s with all the crows at Weinberg’s house anyway?”

  “So you see why I am dreading Sunday’s brunch,” said Sam.

  Jake hugged him. “There’s no need to beat yourself up about it, goofus.”

  “If I was still a Catholic, I’d be down at Saint Sebastian’s lighting candles and saying a few prayers.”

  “How about a rite of exorcism?”

  “Jason,” Jake chided, but he was happy to hear a comment that sounded more like the old Jason. “I don’t know what she could possibly impart this time, save that Amy really is pregnant.”

  “Maybe she and Dad have finally decided to get a divorce,” said Jason hopefully.

  “That’s cheerful,” said Sam, massaging his elbow.

  “It would be,” agreed Jake, knowing that his parent’s marriage was like something out of a David Lynch film. “Or Grace Metalious,” he said aloud.

  “You’ve lost me, Tiger,” said Sam.

  Jake rolled his eyes and said, “Amy. You know the backstory there. That happy Thanksgiving when Mom’s little…indiscretion came to light.”

  “You mean when we kamikazed her with the truth,” said Jason. “I don’t care if there were financial considerations—it’s been damned unfair to Dad.”

  “Dad’s been a fully participating member of the little charade,” Jake pointed out. “Still, with the other party dead, maybe they can get a divorce finally.” He considered a moment. “Or maybe Amy is pregnant. If she’s as capricious with her birth control methods as she is picking a subject to major in, anything’s possible.”

  “Ugh, what a thought,” said Jason, turning away from the window. “Little Hector Suggs clones everywhere, writing odes to Galileo thermometers.”

  “Gruesome,” Jake agreed, and all three laughed.

  “We’ll just have to handle whatever Hurricane Ingrid throws our way. We’ve managed before. At least we know we’re okay, other than our accident prone lug here. And that there is solidarity in numbers. When you get done with work tonight I’d like to go over some ideas for the garden.”

  “I’ll be unscathed, I assure you. And that sounds good. I’d like to go over them too.”

  “Can I trust you not to kill yourself for the next few hours?” asked Jake.

  Sam blew a raspberry at Jake, making Jason laugh. “No. Let’s go back to the house.”

  “Well,” said Jason as they stepped out of the garage apartment. “We’ve also got a formidable weapon against dear old Mum. I’ve actually got good news.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Well, don’t just keep us in suspense, J.D.,” said Sam. “Spill it!”

  “The photographer at the Examiner is about to retire. Well, being forced to retire, more like. Apparently, he took some photos of
what he thought were people but were actually a few fence posts.”

  “Professor Mills did mention something about their photographer being elderly with thick cataracts,” Jake acknowledged.

  “And he’s a little around the bend too, poor old guy. He’s nearly ninety, though, so he’s entitled,” Jason said. “Anyway, the Examiner is finally making the jump over to digital and they need someone who knows the ins and outs, so to speak. Derek told me about it. ’Course I’ll have to wait until the staff comes back first, but I’ve got the job.”

  “That’s great!” said Jake.

  “The Examiner can use your talent, Jason.”

  “Thanks, Sam.” I’ll be out of your hair in no time—though with a bit of a caveat. Local newspapers are in trouble these days, and the Examiner is no different. It might be a short gig.”

  “You’re not in our hair,” Jake said. “It’s been great having you here, and I’ll remain cautiously optimistic that the Examiner can survive. Even with its pedestrian crossword.”

  “He’s all heart, your brother,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “But he is right about you being here. Especially since you clean the bathroom better than he does.”

  “He who doesn’t like the way I clean the bathroom can clean it himself.”

  “I appreciate it, I really do. I’m just happy I was picking up enough freelance work to keep things going…I was also, well…testing the waters, you might say,” said Jason.

  “How?” Jake said.

  “You’ve both displayed the patience of a saint, you two. I haven’t been exactly forthcoming on what happened in San Francisco.”

  “We both kind of figured a bad break-up,” said Sam.

  Jason sighed heavily. He stared at the ground for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked his brother in the eye. “Can we sit down?”

  “Sure,” said Jake, motioning to the porch steps. Sam sat in front of the two brothers, leaning back on Jake’s legs.

  They sat down, the crows once again taking flight at the sudden movement. Jason ran his hand through his black, loose curly hair and scratched his bearded chin. “I’ve been laying kind of low…sorry, Jake,” he said, seeing his brother wince at the cliché. “I can’t put it any other way. I’ve been laying kind of low because I was a little uncertain of how getting my name out there would go.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Jake.

  “I know you don’t,” Jason said with a sigh. “Let me back up a bit. First, no one likes to admit they’ve been made a fool. I’m no exception.”

  “Ah, So it was a bad break up with Jennifer.”

  Jason nodded. “Oh, you could say that. I apologize for being thick headed about it. It wasn’t a matter of trust. You know I’ve always confided in you, especially since we’re the only two sane people in our family.”

  “Well, that’s what all my other personalities tell me.”

  “Yeah, I know. Mom’s a modern Alakshmi, Dad’s goes through his bouts of melancholia, Amy’s…Amy.” He smiled at Jake. “I know we’ll always agree about that.”

  “Yeah, that about covers—Mom’s a what?”

  “Alakshmi is the Hindu god of misfortune.”

  “Huh,” mused Jake. “You think I would have picked that up somewhere along the way.” He shook his head. “Back to the point, J.D. What happened? You’ve done a complete one-eighty.”

  “Part of it is the growth that comes from a lot of realization about yourself,” he started, hesitating as he gathered his thoughts. “Especially when you’ve had the flooring ripped right out from under you, and you’ve been dropped into a long, dark abyss.”

  “I’m sensing this was more than your average break-up,” Sam ventured.

  “A mild understatement,” Jason said. “It was always a dysfunctional relationship. And after it was all over, I guess I had a breakdown.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Jason? You didn’t honestly think I’d make fun of you or something, did you?” Jake asked. “God, not how after I was when Chris died.”

  “No…no, I knew better than that. I just didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t—not after the way I defended Jennifer, after what happened at Thanksgiving that time.” He shrugged. “It’s bad enough being wrong when it comes to you, Jake, but when Mom tells you you’re wrong and she’s right…”

  “Ouch,” Jake said with a wince.

  “I just didn’t want to talk about any of it. And I didn’t want to lie to you.”

  “Jason,” said Sam, “We know what you’ve been through. Trust me, it’s no big deal. Everyone heals in their own time.”

  Jason smiled. “You know, I’d have come to you guys straight away except we’d had that stupid fight. I couldn’t just pop in and face you and say I was sorry.”

  “Well, you could have, actually,” said Jake.

  “And I am. I’m very sorry I let my stupid infatuation get in the way of our relationship. I can’t tell you how much I regret that.”

  “It’s okay, Jason,” Jake reassured him. “Water under the bridge.”

  “It isn’t okay,” Jason said, slamming his fist down on the stair. “I threw my entire life over for that woman. I shattered friendships. I severed ties with people I loved and for what?”

  “Take it easy, J.D.” He let his brother simmer down for a moment before questioning him again.

  “I found her so fascinating. I was enthralled,” he said, his voice tinged with humiliation. “She was good, that one. She was mysterious because she made herself that way. I found out she’d been lying to me from the beginning.”

  “You told me at one point last year that Jennifer wasn’t even her real name,” Jake said.

  “It wasn’t. I’m not sure I know what her real name was. The one I found out about—the one that was most traceable, anyway, was Amelia Darrow.” He snorted. “If you’ve got some time to kill some snowy night, I’ll give you the rap sheet on Amelia Darrow. It makes for some interesting bedtime reading.”

  “That name…that name is familiar…” Sam said. “Was she involved in—”

  “Hang on, Sammy. I’ll get there,” said Jason.

  “She was what, a con artist?” Jake asked.

  “One of her many hats. Con artist, thief, liar. Maybe worse. I don’t like to think about that.”

  “When did you start realizing something was wrong?”

  “Not long after the fight you and I had and Jennifer and I left for San Francisco.” He shook his head. “I had a good life there. I was building up a reputation both as a news photographer and as a serious artistic photographer. I even had a showing of my work.” He looked up at his brother, his eyes etched with pain. “I wanted to share that with you and Sam so much. By that time, though, it was near the end of it, and she had her hooks into everything.”

  “Jesus, Jason, you’re creeping me out a little. What all did she do?”

  “I’m not sure I know everything,” he confessed. “Other than lying all day long, I know she was a thief. Possibly a blackmailer. Possibly an extortionist.”

  “How’d you find out about this?”

  Jason laughed heartily. “What you meant to ask, brother dearest, was how the hell was I so stupid and why didn’t I see this?” He ruffled Jake’s hair. “Thanks for being kind.”

  Jake shrugged. “Go on.”

  “I had warning signs for over a year. Little things that didn’t add up. Secretiveness, phone calls to people that I had no idea of who she was talking to or what about. She was working as a copy editor for some crappy little magazine no one ever heard of, but started bringing home expensive clothing and jewelry.” Jason shook his head. “I overlooked it all. I kept telling myself they were just quirks.” He shrugged. “The capper, though, was the file cabinet.”

  “Not your average piece of office equipment?” Sam asked.

  “It was a basic two drawer affair, only this one was fire proof and came with a combination lock. It was constantly locked, and she even stowed her laptop in there.” He
looked at Jake and said, “You know that horrible old story Grandma Devenworth told us as kids? The one with the woman who wore the velvet ribbon around her neck?”

  “Oh yeah,” Jake said. “The beautiful young woman marries the man, and she’s always wearing that ribbon. Gradually, the man grows to hate it and keeps telling her to take it off—”

  “And she replying, eerily, ‘You’ll be sorry if I do. So I won’t.’” He shrugged. “It was like that. That cabinet. I watched her get into it, I watched her lock it. I kept telling myself it didn’t matter, that I trusted her, that I had to trust her.”

  “Otherwise, you didn’t have much to build a relationship on.”

  “How abysmally she treated you and Sam should have been enough,” said Jason, his voice tight with regret.

  “People can do incredibly odd things when they’re in love,” Jake said. “I even sent a singing telegram to Sam once on his birthday.”

  “You’ve never told me that,” Jason said, grinning.

  “I’ve only just lived it down.”

  “That’s what you think,” said Sam under his breath.

  “Go on.”

  “Well, she never treated me badly—not at first, anyway. It was always good with her. She was always able to explain things away, stuff that in cold reality sounds completely ludicrous, now. In that haze of being in love, when you’re only seeing the best in people, it all sounded perfectly rational. “ He shrugged again. “I realize now none of what she said was sincere. It was all an act to keep me unaware.”

  “How’d it end?”

  “Just like that story with the velvet ribbon.”

  “You pried open the cabinet,” Sam said.

  “It became too much. The designer clothes, the expensive jewelry, the rumors about stuff going missing from the office, the phone calls. I had to know.”

  “And that’s when you found out she wasn’t who she said she was.”