Arrest of the Heart

by Judy Kentrus

  “Oh, no, I’m just checking on things. First visit here since I’ve been back. Just out of curiosity, are you any relation to Harvey Thornton?”

  His face broke out into a big smile. “He’s my uncle, my father’s brother.” Clyde thrust out his massive chest. “He’s on the town council. He got me my jobs with Humperdinck Realty and the Board of Education.”

  “I met him this past Sunday at the coffee hour in church.”

  His smile immediately faded. “We’re you there when they found Mayor Humperdinck?”

  “I was with Sergeant Taylor when she found the body.”

  “Do they have any suspects?”

  “No, the police are stymied. Since you worked for him, do you have any idea who might have wanted him dead?”

  “No. Not me. I don’t know nothin’,” he replied, shaking his head. The movement made his earring swing back and forth. “I gotta get over to the church and cut the grass. I like to help Mr. B. ‘cause he’s not as young as he used to be.” Clyde looked from side to side and lowered his voice. “The church is haunted, and he’s afraid of ghosts.”

  “So I’ve been told. Thanks again for taking care of things,” Linc said, before the gardener left the cellar. He didn’t know what to make of Clyde Thornton. He seemed almost childlike in some of his actions. The guy was certainly strong enough to dig a grave and carry a dead body down a flight of steps. Could he actually kill a person?

  Linc locked the basement door and walked up the six wooden steps into the kitchen. He’d been gone eighteen years, and nothing had changed. Everything was drab, right down to the ugly brown cabinets. A square maple table fronted three unadorned double-hung windows. One lone captain’s chair faced the table.

  From the kitchen, you stepped into a high-ceilinged formal dining room. Beyond that was a sprawling living room with a bank of double hung windows. The space where Jenny’s baby grand piano had stood, remained empty. The furniture was covered with white sheets. The museum quality Aubusson rugs had been rolled up and placed against the walls that were covered in gold and blue flocked wallpaper. Gold fringed rope parted the dark blue heavy velvet drapes at the windows. As children, they weren’t allowed to touch any of Buford’s expensive china or antiques. Linc wasn’t the least bit tempted to see if all of Buford’s possessions remained.

  His feet felt like he was carrying lead weights in his boots when he walked up the carpeted stairs to the second floor. He paused at the first solid mahogany door on the right. It had been his bedroom from the time he was eleven years old till he walked out at the age of eighteen. His hesitated, then turned the tarnished brass knob. The yellowed shades at the two windows had been lowered, and the room was completely empty. His grandfather had gotten rid of every reminder of the grandson he’d hated. Bastard.

  Anger fueled his steps to Jenny’s room next door. It, too, was totally empty. Bastard.

  The threadbare carpet runner ended at the last closed door in the hall, Buford’s study. He’d entered the room as little as possible, usually to be reprimanded for breaking one of his grandfather’s stupid rules. The last time he’d been there, he told his grandfather to go to hell and stormed out.

  The sound of creaking hinges echoed throughout the quiet house when he opened the door. The furniture in this room, too, had been covered over. The need to get this over with drove him to the picture of Abraham Lincoln giving his Gettysburg address. Linc carefully set it on the floor and entered the combination. He still couldn’t understand why Buford had used their birthdates as a combination to the safe. He’d hated them, hadn’t he?

  He removed four brown sealed folders and looked for a place to sit. Wouldn’t it be a kick in the ass to sit at Buford’s custom made desk? He tossed aside the coverings and lined up the labeled folders, one, two, three, and four on the solid oak surface. Should he open them in order, or just dive to number four? No, he decided to follow the plan. Envelope one contained the Last Will and Testament of Buford Adams, dated eighteen years ago. Linc skimmed through the long list of beneficiaries. What struck him the most was that the bulk of the estate had been left to a single benefactor, the Town of Laurel Heights. His and Jenny’s names weren’t mentioned.

  Envelope two contained the Last Will and Testament of Buford Adams dated a little less than ten years ago. The minor beneficiaries were the same, but the bulk of the estate had been divided between Lincoln Adams and the Town of Laurel Heights. Why the change?

  The third envelope contained pictures and magazine articles; a photo of him taken in his Army Ranger uniform and one of him, Scott, and Russell on a fishing trip before they left for college. Linc remembered sending the pictures to Jenny, so she must have forwarded them to Buford. There were numerous articles about Adams Security and Investigations, and how it had grown to one of the top security agencies in the country. Apparently, Buford had followed Linc’s career. The envelope also contained a letter informing the next of kin that Lincoln was missing in action. There was a second notification that Lincoln was injured and in a hospital in Germany. It listed phone numbers and a contact person. Apparently, he didn’t care that his only grandson was alive. Bastard.

  The contents of the fourth envelope, was life changing.

  Chapter 17

  He upended the envelope and assorted color photos slid across the desk. He anxiously reached for a picture of Jenny Elizabeth holding an infant a few hours old; Jenny and the child in Central Park; in the living room of a tastefully decorated apartment; Jenny sitting at a grand piano on stage at the Met with the baby dressed in a frilly pink dress. In each one, his sister appeared to be deliriously happy. The child mirrored Jenny, right down to the sheen of black hair. His heart pounded as he quickly turned each one over, looking for a name, but they were only marked by the number of weeks or months to note the child’s age. The last one stopped when the baby was six months old. Around the baby’s neck was the black pearl pendant that had belonged to his sister.

  Among the photos was a copy of the obituary listing the death of Jenny Elizabeth Adams. She’d died instantly when the cab she was riding in was hit by a drunk driver. The operators of both vehicles were killed. She left behind a six month old daughter, Edith Amanda Adams.

  Linc’s fingers were frozen to the obituary. He couldn’t move. Edith Amanda was Jenny’s daughter. Edith Amanda was his niece. She was a living, breathing part of his sister. Edith Amanda was his! He wasn’t alone. As the shock began to die away, he noticed a sealed envelope with his name on it. His emotions were shot to hell and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

  It was a hand written letter to him, from Buford.

  Lincoln, my boy, if you are reading this, I’ve joined the Lord. Hopefully, St. Peter admitted me through the gates of Heaven. When you stormed out of this house with that big chip on your shoulder, I was happy to see you finally stood up to me, especially when you told me to go to hell. It took real gumption and strength. Understand, I never expected to have you and your sister deposited on my doorstep, so I really didn’t know what to do with you. Losing your mother and father in a plane crash was heartbreaking, but being turned over to a grumpy old man was just as bad. You were sullen and withdrawn, and I knew you had to grow up to be strong and stand up for yourself. You had to go out into a wicked world and become a man all on your own, because you no longer had your father, my son.

  John was everything to me. When he went off and married your mother, I became a bitter old man. I’ll not go into how I felt about your mother, but Sara was a good wife to my son, and a wonderful mother to you and Jenny. You looked so much like her. At times, it drew out the hate I had burning inside, because she took him away from me. So, I took it out on you. I really didn’t hate you.

  Since you found the pictures, you know about Edith Amanda. Jenny wrote to me from time to time, and said she wanted a baby, but didn’t want to get married. She was artificially inseminated. I sent her the money to have the procedure done. Needless to say, I have a wonderful great-gra
nddaughter and you have a niece. I have watched her grow into a beautiful young lady.

  After Jenny died, I changed my Will, dividing the money between you and the town, adding that stipulation that you live here for a year. As a child, you always wanted to do things your own way, but I wanted to have some input in how you spent the rest of your life. If you haven’t figured it out by now, you are now the smart, successful man I am proud to call my grandson.

  I love you, Lincoln, be happy

  P.S. When you and, hopefully Jessie, have children of your own, please don’t name any of them after me. One Buford in this family was enough. I am enclosing Jenny’s pearl pendant. Please give it to my great-granddaughter. When the time is right, tell her about the wonderful mother who brought her into this world.

  Lincoln removed his eye patch and covered his entire face with his hands. Tears leaked out of his closed fingers. He was happy, sad, heartbroken, but most of all, confused. He scrubbed the wetness from his cheeks with the back of his trembling hand and re-read the letter. All these years, he’d been wrong thinking the old man hated him. His grandfather certainly had the last laugh, manipulating Lincoln’s life to make sure he returned to Laurel Heights. Margaret and Sallie Mae had been privy to Buford’s plan. He lifted the black pearl pendant and touched the one in his ear. The pearls were gifts from his parents.

  The picture of Jenny holding her newborn baby caught his eye. Jenny’s baby! Anger swallowed up the painful emotions he was feeling. “Jenny’s baby! Son-of-a-bitch!” He stuffed everything in the folder and put the black pearl pendant in his pocket. “She lied!” he roared, shoving out of the chair. He ran out of the house and down the driveway with lightning speed to his truck. Thank God no one was around when he shot down the street, pumping it up to sixty. He speed dialed Scott’s number.

  His best friend had barely said hello when Linc furiously spouted, “She lied!”

  “Hold it.” Scott pulled the phone slightly away from his ear. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Are you alone?”

  “No, I’m in Russell’s office. We’re reviewing the old blueprints for Sam Morlock’s buildings in Laurel Heights. I’ll put you on speaker. Start again.”

  “She lied. Jessie lied! She isn’t Edith Amanda’s mother. My sister Jenny is her real mother.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Buford told me.” Linc almost missed a stop sign and jammed on his brakes. He didn’t even know where the hell he was driving.

  “Lincoln, the first thing you need to do is calm down,” Russell advised. “You’re rambling like a crazy man. If you are driving, pull over, and let’s talk this through.”

  Linc saw the sign for River Road. White hot anger smoldered in his body, but his friends were right, he needed to rein in his temper. He drove a little farther and pulled onto the bumpy dirt lane that led to the abandoned quarry and shut the motor off. He was surrounded by mountains of slate that he wanted to beat with his bare hands. “I pulled into the old quarry.”

  “How could Buford tell you? Unless it was his ghost?” Scott looked at Russell and they both shook their heads. They’d never known their friend to be so rattled and out of control.

  “Funny, Landis. I went to Buford’s house and found four folders in his safe. The first three folders contained copies of two different wills and magazine articles about me and my company. The old man was following my career. The last one contained pictures of Jenny and her baby and a personal letter from Buford. My sister was artificially inseminated. Edie was six months old when Jenny died in the car crash. He changed his Will after my sister died, just to make sure I would have to come back here. I’ll let you read it this weekend. But, don’t you see, Jessie isn’t Edie’s mother. She’s kept the truth from me. Edie is my flesh and blood, not hers! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. She is the spitting image of Jenny, right down to the black hair. And she plays the piano! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “And we thought our lives were complicated,” Scott said. “Falling in love is never easy and it messes you up.”

  “Falling in love has nothing to do with it! Edie is my flesh and blood. What I want to know is how Jessie ended up with my sister’s daughter and why the hell she didn’t tell me?”

  “The first thing you’re going to do is simmer down, and then you’re going to search out Jessie and ask her,” Russell advised.

  “You’re right. Everything I thought about my grandfather or was led to believe is wrong. My life is, excuse the expression, fucked up. I feel like a shit calling you. Thanks for letting me vent.”

  “That’s what brothers are for. Unless you need us to come out there, we’ll see you Saturday morning,” Scott said.

  “She lied,” Lincoln mumbled, when he headed into town at a safe speed. Did Jessie let me make love to her as a distraction? Draw my attention away from what was right in front of me? The thought pierced his heart with an invisible sword.

  Jessie sat at her desk and nibbled on the candy bar she’d discovered on the top shelf of her in-box when she’d walked into her office earlier that morning. The chief held a meeting to update everyone on the double homicides. The slugs extracted from both bodies appeared to have come from the same caliber gun. The state police would run them against previous crimes, but their lab was presently backlogged, and there weren’t enough forensic technicians to handle the workload. Same old story.

  So far, no one had found out about the mayor’s fetish for women’s underwear. She still had to talk to the chief about the owner of the skivvies found on the town treasurer. No time like the present. She’d just stepped out of her office when Detective Catcher called her name.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked with a friendly smile, as she perched on the edge of his cluttered desk.

  “That was a good find in the vacant field the other afternoon. Now we’ve got two incidents involving liquor in bread loaves. I’ve forwarded the bottles to the state police lab to dust for prints. They couldn’t give me a turnaround time because they’re over loaded with cases. I did mention the bottles were discovered adjacent to an elementary school, hoping it would bump us up on their list.” Al’s cell phone rang. “Okay, be right there. The chief has additional information on the mayor’s death,” he said to Jessie. “Don’t go away. There are a couple of other things I need to talk to you about.”

  “No problem.” Jess made herself comfortable in Al’s swivel chair and just happened to glance at a file folder on the back corner of his desk. Sitting on top was a black card with silver embossed lettering. She jerked forward and grabbed the card. Her mouth dropped when she read, Adams Security and Investigations, Lincoln Adams, President. “Son-of-a-bitch!”

  She saw red and flipped open the folder. When she read the threatening e-mails that had been sent to Judge Margaret Taylor, adrenaline pumped in her body so much, she felt like she was about to explode. Jess shot out of the chair and repeated, “Son-of-a-bitch!” not caring who heard her. “I’m going to kill him and my mother!”

  Al was hurrying back to his desk, but abruptly stopped at the murderous stare on Jessie’s face. He’d suddenly remembered the folder and card on his desk, but it was too late.

  Jessie stood stone still and clenched her fingers in tight fists. “Don’t say anything! Not a damn word! I’m going to find that lying sack of shit and strangle him with my bare hands!”

  “Then we’d have to throw you in jail.” He’d never seen Jessie so furious or heard her use colorful language. Then again, she had a perfect right. He, too, hadn’t been happy when the chief filled him in at a private meeting in the chief’s home last evening. Right now, he wouldn’t want to be in Lincoln Adams’ shoes for all the money in the world.

  “You all knew!”

  “I found out last night from the chief.”

  “And just when were you and the chief going to tell me what’s going on?” Jess’s voice was vicious with sarcasm.

  “Lincoln is s
upposed to talk to you.” Al wasn’t happy punting the ball, but it was the truth.

  “When? When I get a call telling me that my mother has been murdered!”

  Jess’s boisterous outburst was drawing attention. The chief rushed out of his office to find out what the commotion was all about, and caught the last of Jessie’s statement. She’d found out. Joe was ready to accept part of the blame, but damn, the situation was complicated, in more ways than one. Where the hell was Lincoln Adams?

  “Why don’t you come in my office and we’ll talk. I’ve also been kept in the dark by your mother and Lincoln and only just learned about the threats.”

  “Did you know who he really was?”

  “No. I found out when he gave me his card.”

  “Is that what your secret meeting at the Spoonful was all about?”

  Joe just nodded his head in resolve.

  “Let’s throw their asses in jail for obstruction of justice!”

  “We can’t do that and you know it,” Joe said, biting back a smile. If the situation wasn’t so serious, it would be comical.

  “Why all the secrecy? Why didn’t they want me to know?”

  “Those are very good questions. Why don’t you locate Lincoln Adams and ask him face to face?”

  “I’m going to do just that.” Jessie took a deep calming sigh. “Sorry I yelled at both of you. If anyone needs me, I’ll be tracking a big rat.” Jess hurried out to her car and reached for the microphone on her shoulder. “Dispatch, Sergeant Taylor. Put out a BOLO for Lincoln Adams. He’ll be driving a silver Ford pickup. If he is spotted, notify me immediately.”

  “What’s the charge?”

  “Obstruction of justice and lying to a police officer!”

  Mrs. Schmidt had just walked into police headquarters to lodge a complaint about the half-naked carpenters working on the bandstand, and overheard the entire transmission. She did an about face and gleefully reached for her cell phone.