by Harry Kraus
“Let’s see,” Chris began. “Your piano teacher is critically injured in a hit-and-run accident. Now, his fiancée dies in your house.” He looked at me. “Is all this more than coincidence or are you just having one hell of a week?”
I didn’t have an answer. I remembered my camera. “Remember the photos I took of the truck? I think Yolanda erased my camera.”
“Why would she do that?”
“No idea.” I tapped my fingers on the kitchen counter. I had an idea. “Maybe,” I said.
“Maybe, what?”
“Maybe someone really was trying to kill Jack, and Yolanda was concerned that I was starting to solve the mystery.”
Rene pointed at me. “And maybe she hired someone to run Jack down and committed suicide when she thought she was going to be found out.”
“Motive?” I asked.
Rene tapped her chin. “Check and see if she was the beneficiary of any insurance policy.”
Chris frowned. “I thought Wendi’s imagination was wild. Now I see it’s a family trait.”
“There is a connection somewhere.”
The detective shook his head. “Maybe,” he said slowly. “But unlikely.” He looked at his two younger associates and then back to me. “Do me a favor, Wendi. Let me do the investigation here. It wouldn’t look good for you to stick your nose into a death investigation when it happened in your own home.”
Three hours later, the young police duo were still pacing, Chris Black had returned to his office, and Dr. Sig Eichmann, a state medical examiner, was completing his on-site examination of Yolanda’s body and the death scene. Even though I knew Sig well and he had taught me so much in the past, every time I was tempted to go and see what he was doing, I thought about how he might misinterpret my interest and stayed away.
By six, the forensics team carried out the body, and Sig nodded at me as he walked through the foyer towards the front door. He stopped and reiterated the main points of my account. “Last seen around eleven p.m., deep sonorous breathing, fully clothed. The next thing you know was around ten this morning when you found her dead and without clothing.”
I nodded. It was the third time he’d rechecked the details.
It was Tuesday, salad night at the Stratfords’. Henry insisted on it. I shook my head. I was going to order pizza, and Henry was just going to have to deal with a deviation from the nutrition schedule.
Besides, he’d done a zipper check times three this morning, so he was already off scale for the normal perfect Tuesday plan. I called to Rene. “I’m ordering pizza from Angelico’s. What do you like?”
She smiled and patted her stomach. “Junior wants Canadian bacon and mushrooms.”
“Junior is the size of a lima bean,” I said.
Rene gave me the finger.
I picked up the phone and ordered a supreme.
Henry Stratford slipped past his receptionist and into his office and closed the door. Then, he knelt on the floor and opened the bottom drawer of his oak filing cabinet. He found what he was looking for at the back of the drawer, lying flat beneath the hanging files. He stared at the document, his heart racing. He ran his finger down the list of names. There, halfway down the page, his finger came to a stop. “Lanny Bedford,” he whispered.
Henry mumbled a curse and carefully placed the list back into the filing cabinet. A moment later he heard his name and whirled around to see Cindy Swanson sitting on his desk. “Cindy!”
“What’s wrong, Henry?” She stared at him with squinting eyes above a mischievous smile. “What can possibly be so captivating in that filing cabinet that you didn’t hear me come in?”
He stood and tried to regain his composure. “I-it’s nothing. I was just recalling an old patient.”
She reached for his forehead. “You’re sweating.”
He raised his eyebrows. “See what you do to me?” He looked beyond her to see that the door was shut and cleared his throat. “Look, Cindy,” he began. “About last night. I sh — ”
She shook her head and placed her palm against his lips. “Don’t apologize to me. I’m a big girl, Henry, and I’m not sorry a bit.”
He clasped her hand in his and pressed a kiss against her palm before releasing it. Instead of pulling her hand away, she tickled her way along his hairline and coaxed him forward.
After a kiss, he reluctantly stepped back. “We need to be careful.”
She nodded. “I understand. Can you come over tonight?”
“I need to be at home.”
“Wendi will understand. She expects you to be out late.”
He felt himself weakening.
She made a face. A child pouting for her own way.
He planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “Maybe,” he said. “Don’t wait up.”
At eight, Henry called and said he was managing a multi-casualty city-bus wreck. I was jealous. He had the operating rooms to retreat to and the obligation to set aside all of the confusion looming in our personal world. I had no such obligation. I wanted to look at my problems and say, “Sorry, I’ve got a life to save,” turn away, and flee. Of course, I did have my consultant business, but I was officially on vacation this week, and thinking of that only made my misery more poisonous to me.
Rene went to bed early, having quickly reclaimed the downstairs suite that the Renners vacated. I wandered the house listlessly, carrying a glass of a Virginia wine. I drank more than I wanted, but less than would be required to quiet the worries that swirled about my head. In the midst of the trauma that this week had become, my sister had launched my thoughts in a new direction: motherhood. A week ago, my heart was steeled with a plan of escape. Henry was history. Jack was my future. Out with plastic. In with organic. But everything changed with Jack’s accident and the fact that he’d forgotten that I’d seduced him.
As I watched Henry care for Jack, I felt a little warmth from the spark of what once attracted me to Henry in the first place. And I couldn’t argue that Henry always tried hard to keep me happy.
Maybe God did give a care and was giving me a second chance to do things the right way. I surprised myself by allowing this thought.
Was Rene’s baby to become the cement that Henry and I needed? I walked to the nursery to strip the sheets from the air mattress and found myself dreaming of a little one lying in the crib. I sat in the rocking chair and imagined midnight feedings, reading Dr. Seuss books, and cute little baby clothes. I picked up a quilted pillow and hugged it to my breasts. Could it be that my hopes for motherhood could come as early as December? I thought about Christmas and an extra stocking over the mantle.
Christmas with Henry alone had become a bore. I dropped hints and he bought everything I wanted. What fun was there in that? I wanted the unexpected. A surprise. Henry seemed obsessed with being sure I’d be happy with his purchases. Last year I offered to buy and wrap a leather jacket I’d seen, something I promised I’d wear while screaming in the wind on Henry’s Triumph Rocket III. He revolted. He insisted on wrapping it himself after having me select the wrapping paper. I smiled at the memory. That was Henry. Sweet. Boring. But dead set on my happiness. But if I stayed with Henry, could I ever escape my plastic life?
I was standing with my hands on the edge of the railing when Henry came in behind me. “What’s with the police tape across our doorway?”
I shrugged. “They told me it is routine. They’re treating it as a crime scene until after the autopsy. Chris Black assured me it was routine.”
His forehead was creased with worry.
“What’s with the anxiety? Where’s my ever-confident surgeon?”
He offered me a weak smile, one that faded when he started to speak. “When’s the last time you had the alarm system ser viced?”
“Monthly, Henry.” I frowned. “The first Monday of every month.”
“Who knows the entry sequence?”
“You and me.” I paused. “Why?”
He acted nonchalant, but I could sense a fear beneath the c
alm. “The police are treating this like a crime. If someone else got in here, how’d they get in?”
“Henry, you’re creeping me out.”
He turned away. “We should change the entry code just the same.”
“Fine, Henry. Shall we use our anniversary? Six One Eight Zero Two.”
He nodded and stayed quiet for a moment. “So our bedroom is a crime scene. Where do we sleep?”
“We can use the guest bed downstairs. I’m not sure I want to stay in our bed after Yolanda — ” I put my hand to my mouth.
He slipped his hand around my waist and kissed my cheek. “Hell of a day, huh?”
I inhaled his cologne and stared at the little animal mobile. “What’s going on, Henry?”
“The world’s gone mad,” he whispered.
“Be serious,” I whined. A moment later, I was caught off guard by my fresh desire to retreat into his arms. I pulled his arms around me and held him against my back.
He shook his head, nosing forward into my hair. “I don’t know.”
I couldn’t face him just yet. I kept looking at the baby crib and wondering if we had a future together.
I took a deep breath and turned around. “Ever wish you could erase time? I’d like to do this last week over.”
He shook his head. “What’s done is done.”
“Want to hear something else?” I said, searching his eyes in the dim light.
He nodded and put his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me. “Sure.”
I took a sip of wine. My tongue felt thick and clumsy. “Rene wants us to adopt her baby.” Before he could say anything, I put my index finger on his lips. “Don’t, honey,” I said. “Don’t say anything. Just think about it.”
He sighed. Adopting a child was in the future, but one this soon was a deviation from the Stratford master plan. “Is this something you want?”
I looked around the room. I’d worked for hours stenciling little animals around the top of the walls. I laid my head against his chest. A week ago, this was the last thing on my mind. “Maybe,” I whispered.
“Will it make you happy?”
“Do you think I’d make a good mother?”
“What kind of question is that?”
I lifted my head and looked at him. “A serious one, Henry Stratford. I’m afraid I’ll end up like my mother.”
“She was a good mom.”
I wanted to spit. My mother was the queen of implants. Her smile. Her role. It was all about appearance. I studied Henry for a moment and tried to focus. Maybe that was why my husband liked my mother. They were both all about image. “She appeared to be a good mother. That didn’t make her one.”
Henry let it pass. He was smart. “Anyway,” he said. “You’d be a great mother.”
I locked my fingers behind his head and pulled him into an embrace. At that moment, all my guilty emotions tumbled to the surface. I felt bad for having wanted someone else when Henry had been so good to me — even in the midst of his boring predictability. I’d been unfaithful to him, even if it hadn’t gone outside my mind for more than ten minutes. I knew what Jesus said about lust. I’d already committed adultery in my heart.
I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the wetness on Henry’s face. He lifted his face from mine and touched my cheek tenderly. “What’s wrong, Wendi?”
At that moment, thinking about a baby in our little nursery, I felt I could really love him again. “Nothing,” I sniffed. “I’m OK.”
We stared at each other in the darkness for a moment before I tried my old line, the one that sealed our romance right in the beginning. “Kiss me!”
He obeyed. We moved together as he backed me up a step so that my foot nudged the edge of the air mattress I’d blown up for Rene. I tugged at his necktie. He gently lowered me towards the floor.
“Henry,” I giggled a playful protest.
He must not have heard.
CHAPTER 19
The next morning, Henry stood, folded the newspaper into perfect quarters and proceeded into the hall for his routine. I sipped my coffee, keeping the mug close to my chin and watching him through the steam. He went through the whole routine, hair, teeth, tie, jacket, pants, and lastly, the double fly-check. Perhaps yesterday’s triple check was a fluke. Either that, or something bad had infected his mind. I shook my head. Henry was way too predictable for flukes.
I watched him drive his Mercedes to the end of the driveway, signal, and pull out. At the last second, I saw him lift his hand in a feeble wave, so I followed his line of sight to a post just opposite the driveway to my father’s church. There stood my father, waiting to cross the road.
Immediately I tensed, then chastised myself. Why do I always do that? I knew the answer. Guilt.
I hid behind the curtains so he wouldn’t see me. I waited for his knock before answering. I pulled open the door. “Daddy, what a nice surprise.” I tried to mean it.
“Hi, Wendi.” He took a step forward. “Is Rene up?”
Of course. He’s come to love on his prodigal. I felt my own disappointment surge. “Not yet. Shall I wake her?”
“No, no,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “I really wanted to talk to you.” He walked in and selected an easy chair next to the piano in the front room.
I sat opposite him, immediately on the defense.
“Can I ask you to explain your behavior yesterday? The way you blew up over at the home?”
I looked at him. He was older than I remembered. He seemed to have aged overnight. Deep wrinkles creased the sides of his neck and forehead and gathered in little crow’s feet beside his eyes. I shook my head. I couldn’t betray my mother. I’d hurt her enough. “I can’t explain it, Daddy.”
His eyes were soft. Eyes that had absorbed so much of other people’s pain. They were the same eyes I saw in the waiting room when he comforted the Renners. “You might try finding out who your mother is.”
“What?”
“You don’t seem to know her anymore.”
I didn’t understand. I knew my mother well enough. If only my father knew what I knew about his precious bride. How deceitful, how self-serving —
“She’s changed,” he said, interrupting my bitter reflections. He paused and leaned forward. He touched my hand, just a grace note, not sustained. “You obviously expected us to react differently to the news of our grandchild. Tell me why.”
I bit my bottom lip and gave a rapid shake of my head. As I sat in quietness, it occurred to me that my mother not only had never told him, she probably couldn’t tell him the truth. Perhaps she too had amnesia from the accident. I held up my hands. “It was a stupid comment. Who knows what I was thinking?”
He wasn’t persuaded by my pass-it-off replies. “You can talk to me, Wendi.” He stood up and walked away from me, and plunked a few high notes on the piano keys. “I should have made you practice when you were a child. Then you wouldn’t be having to take lessons now.”
“I like taking lessons. Jack’s a great — ” I paused. “Teacher.”
He nodded. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
I watched as his old eyes brimmed with tears. My words came unbidden. “You were a good father, Daddy.”
“You know what scares me the most?”
I shook my head.
“So many children get an idea of what their heavenly Father is like from their earthly dads.” He looked down. “He’s nothing like me.”
“Daddy, don’t say that. You were a good father.” I stood up and held out my hands. “What, have I turned out so bad that you think you’ve failed?”
He smiled at me. “Of course not. You’ve always been the perfect daughter.”
I watched him for a moment. His eyes carried a sadness that belied the words he spoke. “What is it, Daddy? Perfect not good enough for you?”
“Maybe that’s it, honey.” He gave me a hug and patted my back.
When he got to the door, he turned and said, “I’d love you even if you we
ren’t perfect.”
I opened my mouth to question him, but he’d made a dramatic exit before I could reply.
I walked to the kitchen, where I found Rene drinking coffee, sitting at the table. “How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to eavesdrop. Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”
“I can’t.”
“You’re protecting Mom.”
“Shouldn’t I?” I poured myself more coffee. “Haven’t I caused her enough pain? She’s stuck in that chair because of me.” I glared at Rene. “And you want me to shred the last of her dignity by telling Daddy what a fake she is?”
“Is that what you think?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you? In church, she was all smiles, the successful minister’s wife with the perfect family.”
Rene huffed. “I ruined that.”
I shook my head. “After you left, she seemed consumed with keeping what remained of her honor. Maybe she’d failed with you, but when I showed up pregnant, she couldn’t stand to let anyone know.”
“And maybe she just didn’t want to lose you too.”
“What?”
“She understood that if Daddy knew, you’d end up in front of the church elders, just like me. And then she’d be out two daughters, not just one.”
“I don’t believe it. You know what she said to me?” I gestured the quotation marks with my fingers. “ ‘How dare you do this to your father’s ministry?’ ”
Rene raised her eyebrows and stayed quiet, sipping from the tall mug in her hand.
I sat across from her. “And why are you suddenly so cozy with them again? Have you forgotten that the church asked you to leave?”
She sighed. “I’ve not forgotten. But that was the church. Daddy never asked me to leave home. That was my decision.” She looked in my eyes, as if pleading with me to understand. “This pregnancy, this HIV has a way of making me think. I’m at the bottom.”
“Stop it,” I said. “You’re my hero. You had the guts to stand up to them. I only pretended to comply, but inside, I envied you.”
“So talk to Mom. I think Daddy’s right. I think she is glad about a grandchild. I think she’s changed.”