“You own this place, Joe?” Meg asked.
“My father used to—he was the Joe on the sign. You probably didn’t know him. He turned it over to me a coupla years ago so he could retire to Florida and fish.”
“You married?”
“Sure am. You remember Linda Giordano? We got married a year after graduation. Three kids, all boys. You got kids?”
“Wow, three kids! No to the kids for us—we only got married last week.”
“Hey, you guys took your time. Better get started. Your father still practicing law?”
“He is,” Meg said nodding. “You’ve got quite a memory. He has his own practice now, and he and my mother live in Montclair. Why on earth do you remember him?”
“My dad was one of his clients, years back. I was cleaning out the basement just last week and stumbled over the file. Talk about coincidence! Here you are, just a few days later.”
“I don’t think my father ever mentioned him, but he never talked about his work at home, or maybe I tuned him out. What was that all about?”
Joe shrugged. “I only looked at it long enough to figure out what it was. I think Dad wanted to sue one of his vendors for not delivering, and for inflated billing, and your father helped him out.”
“So it all worked out for your father?”
Joe nodded. “Sure did. Like you see, the business is still here.”
“I’ll tell my father you remembered him, Joe.”
“Ah, don’t bother. It’s been a long time, and I’m sure he’s handled plenty of cases since. Good to see you again, Meg. If you ever need any sports equipment, you better think of me. Oh, what is it you do?”
“I run an apple orchard.”
That stopped Joe cold for a couple of beats. “Wow! I never would have expected that—Meg Corey, a farmer. I knew you went off to college somewhere else. You like what you’re doing?”
“I do, actually. I was as surprised as you are, Joe. Nice talking with you.”
When they were outside, Seth said, “Did you know him well?”
“Vaguely. Of course, our class wasn’t all that big, so it wasn’t hard. As I recall, he was an okay guy. Played on some sports teams, although I can’t tell you which ones, since the only games I went to were football. I never did see a high school basketball game.”
They retrieved the car, and Meg drove the few miles to the house she had grown up in. “As you can see, it’s not exactly close to the center of town. This is ‘The Hill,’ for obvious reasons. The house itself is on a cul-de-sac, and when I lived there, there were plenty of young kids and very few cars, so it was safe. This is it.” Meg pulled up to the curb on the far side of the street and stared. “I think they’ve done some ‘improving’”—Meg made air quotes—“since I lived here, mostly in the direction of pretentious. I don’t remember it looking like this.”
“You mean all the pillars and stuff? I’d agree. I think the core house was built in the 1940s. Seems nice enough. What’s your single favorite memory from this place?”
“What is this, a quiz?” Meg thought for a moment, rifling through her memories. Finally she said, “When I was about four, a bird got into the house and was flying around the living room running into things—it couldn’t find a way out. The room had a plate-glass picture window overlooking the back lawn and the bird kept flying at it, thinking it could get through. My father trapped it against the window with a hat—a fedora, I think—and took it outside and released it. I thought that was very heroic.”
“Nice.”
“It was. I wonder if he remembers it? Oh, and he used to love to plant blue morning glories, over there on an old stump. Where the swimming pool is now. I have no idea why, because he didn’t like gardening much. Mother did most of it. It was only that single kind of flower.” Meg studied the front of the house one last time. “I could name the kids that lived around the block—we used to go to one another’s birthday parties, and go trick-or-treating together, at least for a while. Long time ago.” She sighed. “You ready to go? Anything else you want to see? Can I tempt you with Washington’s Headquarters in Morristown? Or maybe Fort Nonsense?”
“Are you joking?” Seth asked.
“Nope. Fort Nonsense was an earthworks built in 1777 by Washington’s order. It was a good vantage point, and it may have been used for signal fires. And there’s nothing much to see there now except the view.”
“Will you be mortally offended if I pass on that?” Seth said.
“Of course not. But don’t say I didn’t offer you up the finest of our local history. You ready to go back to Montclair?”
“I think so.” She thought briefly about calling her mother, then decided they’d be home early enough to make any plans for the evening. She was happy to leave, in case there was any afternoon traffic to beat—it had been so long since she had spent any time in the area that she didn’t know what the patterns were. And she had seen—and shared—all that she cared to. Madison was her past, and she didn’t feel any need to dwell on it. She didn’t have any misconceptions about her idyllic youth. It had been fine but not memorable, with few crises and no disasters. She had long since moved on.
Had Seth? Effectively he had never left home. She had no idea what that would be like, although he seemed content enough. But had he never wanted more?
The ride back to Montclair took less time than Meg had thought, and it was barely three o’clock when they pulled up her parents’ driveway and parked. She noticed quickly that her father’s car had appeared in the driveway, all visible damage repaired. “That should make Daddy happy,” Meg said, pointing. “At least one thing worked out.” She turned off the engine, but she found she was in no hurry to get out. “Anything else you want to do or see while we’re in the area?” she asked Seth.
“I hate to say it, but I’d really like to leave it. Head home,” he said.
“I know. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I’d like to do that too, so we can get back to our own lives. I’m not usually all that involved in my parents’ lives, as no doubt you’ve noticed by now.”
“I’d say that’s true. Are you implying I’m too involved with my family?”
She wondered if she had offended him. “No, not at all. You all live in essentially the same community. It would be weird if you weren’t involved with them. Besides, I like your family.” Except Stephen, of course, but they didn’t talk about that, even with Seth’s mother, Lydia.
“And you don’t like your own?” Seth asked.
“It’s not that, exactly. Look, I’ve had friends whose families were horrible—demanding, domineering, unreasonable, and impossible to please. I have nothing to complain about. We’re just not particularly close. That’s the way we’ve always been.”
“Well, if I see you shutting me out, I’m going to do something about it.”
“I want you to, Seth.” Meg leaned against Seth, and he pulled her close.
They sat like that for several minutes, until Meg finally said, “I suppose we should go in. We sort of made vague noises about going out for dinner tonight, as I recall.”
“Fine with me. Okay to leave the car here?”
“Sure. If we decide to go out again, we can move it.”
Seth climbed out of the car and waited for Meg to join him, then they headed for the back door. Does anyone use the front door anymore? Meg wondered. She fished out a key and opened the door, stepping into the back hallway. “Mother?” she called out. She was surprised when her mother didn’t answer. She walked through the kitchen toward the main hall. “Mother?” she tried again.
“Maybe she’s taking a nap?” Seth suggested.
“She’s not a napper. Or I should say, she didn’t take naps when I was around, but I guess she is getting older.” She decided to check the living room before going upstairs, and was surprised to see her mother sitting on the couc
h, staring blindly into space. Again. What had happened to her energetic, focused mother? “Mother? Are you all right?”
It took Elizabeth a moment to come back from wherever her mind had wandered, and she turned and looked up at Meg. “No, I don’t think so.”
Meg quickly sat next to her on the couch. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s your father,” Elizabeth said, then stopped again.
“What—he’s sick? Hurt?”
“No, neither. You know he went into his office this morning? He thought he should check in, see if there was anything important he should attend to. He’d given his secretary time off while he was away, and his partner had decided to take a vacation too, while he had the chance. It seems that not many people seek legal help right before the holidays.”
Meg was becoming impatient. “So what’s going on?”
“Your father is at the police station. When he arrived at the office, he found his partner Arthur on the floor there, unconscious. He wasn’t even supposed to be in town.”
“Is he all right? Arthur, I mean?” Meg racked her brain to try to remember if she had ever met Arthur and came up blank. “Was it a stroke? A heart attack?”
“No, he was attacked. Just like Enrique. By someone who didn’t expect to find him there, apparently.”
A string of questions raced through Meg’s mind, and she tried to sort out which were the most important. “Daddy found him?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Is Arthur all right?” Meg asked.
“He was still unconscious, the last I heard. Which was some time ago.”
“Why is Daddy at the police station?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “When your father found Arthur, he immediately called 911, and waited until the paramedics arrived. Then he followed them to the hospital. Arthur’s a widower, so Phillip has as much personal information about Arthur as anyone around here. He was still at the hospital when the police arrived—apparently the paramedics had told them that Arthur had some injuries that were suspicious. Since there was nothing more that Phillip could do for Arthur, they adjourned to the police station. He was on the phone with me just as they arrived, which is the only reason I know anything about what is going on.”
“When was this?”
“About eleven.”
“And you haven’t heard from him since?” Meg asked.
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Did he say when Arthur was attacked? I mean, yesterday? This morning?”
“Most likely this morning. The, uh, blood was still wet.” Elizabeth shuddered. “Like your father, Arthur just couldn’t stay away from the office.”
Meg sat down and put her arm around her mother. “I’m so sorry. Can I get you something? A cup of tea, maybe?”
Elizabeth leaned slightly against Meg, which for her was a major display of emotion. “That would be nice, dear.”
“I’ll do it,” Seth said, and headed for the kitchen before anyone would say anything.
Meg didn’t want to say out loud what she was thinking: that her father might be suspected of attacking his business partner. But why would anyone think that? Still, she knew nothing about Arthur, or about her father’s relationship with Arthur, professional or personal. And he had been associated with more than one recent crime, one of those violent. And if Arthur had been attacked this morning, he had no alibi. If she had been a police officer, or perhaps one particular Montclair police officer, she probably would have taken him in as well.
Apparently her mother had arrived at the same conclusions. “Oh, Meg, I’m afraid the police think Phillip attacked Arthur.” And then she burst into tears.
Meg fought off her initial shock: she couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother cry, much less loud, sloppy, messy crying like this. She quickly drew Elizabeth closer. She could feel her whole body shaking.
Did Elizabeth believe Phillip had done this? Holding her sobbing mother, she couldn’t be sure. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t over yet.
15
Elizabeth recovered quickly, pulling back and wiping her eyes with a quick hand. “Goodness, I don’t know what came over me. I’m very sorry.”
Heaven forbid a Corey should show emotion. “Mother, you don’t have to apologize for being upset. Your husband—my father—has just been hauled off to the police station under suspicion of who knows what, and you haven’t heard a word from him. You should be upset.”
“Oh, dear. Do you really think this is serious?”
“I’m afraid I do. Daddy told me that the police chief was going by the book with him, but it has been several hours now, and I know Daddy wouldn’t want you to worry if he could prevent it.” Exactly like you’re doing. “I hate to say it, but I think my instinct was right. There’s something going on here that we don’t know about, and all the events of the past week are probably connected. We just don’t know how yet. What can you tell me about Arthur?” Maybe a change to a more neutral topic would calm her mother down.
Elizabeth managed to pull herself together and sat back against the couch cushions. “I can’t say that I know him well. He was with the same New York firm as your father, and when Phillip decided to leave and set up his own firm, he invited Arthur Ackerman to join him—they’re close in age. I assume that meant that he respected Arthur’s abilities, or needed his areas of expertise to complement his own. They’ve been working together for a few years now, but until they became law partners we’d never socialized.”
Funny that the first description Elizabeth gave was of the man’s professional abilities, not his personality. “Have you met him?”
“A few times, mostly at legal functions. His wife died a few years back, and he never remarried. He has a couple of children, but they live in other states. I’m sure Phillip had lunch with him now and then, in New York, but I wasn’t included. I think Arthur specialized in municipal law—we didn’t talk much shop the few times when the three of us were together.”
As far as Meg knew, municipal law offered multiple opportunities for legal—or more like not-quite-legal—skulduggery. “Was he honest?”
“Meg! How should I know? I would like to think that Phillip would not have formed a partnership with him if he was not. To the best of my knowledge Arthur had more than enough money, and he didn’t seem particularly greedy—he just wanted to keep busy, since there was little else in his life. That is, I admit, a judgment based on very little information.”
“Did you like him?”
“What kind of a question is that?” Elizabeth said sharply, and then she slumped and waved her hand. “Never mind—I think I know how your mind works. Yes, I guess I did. He seemed like a kind, thoughtful man—I know, not the type you expect to see dealing with government agencies and their legal concerns. Maybe that was why he was effective: he seemed harmless. But he had a lot of valuable experience to offer.”
Meg digested that for a moment. “Did he have any baggage? Anyone from a past job who wasn’t happy with him?”
Elizabeth looked bleakly at her. “Meg, as I’m sure you know, your father and I don’t talk business. I know what their legal arrangement is, between the two of them. I know what happens to the partnership if one or the other should die unexpectedly—I inherit Phillip’s share of the assets of the firm, and Arthur has first right of refusal if I wish to sell that share. But Phillip has not said anything about Arthur’s past history, nor would I ask. I realize that’s of little help to you now.”
Meg was stymied. How could her mother know so little about her own husband’s professional life, which occupied the major part of his time and always had? How could she be ignorant of the character of her husband’s partner of the last five years? Did she have so little curiosity? Or did she really not care? But for the moment all that was irrelevant. Elizabeth and Phillip had muddled along through more than thirty years of marriage, a
marriage that would be judged successful by any outsider, and who was she to argue? She’d been married about three minutes. And she’d probably looked equally ignorant if asked about the details of Seth’s business dealings.
Seth wisely chose this moment to step in. “Elizabeth, I think what Meg is trying to get at is, do you know of any reason why someone would attack Arthur?”
Elizabeth turned to him. “No, I don’t. That doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
Seth nodded once. “So this is the harder question: do you think this attack was directed at Phillip rather than Arthur?”
Elizabeth looked startled at that idea, then stopped to consider it. “It could be that whoever did this expected the office to be empty, especially if it was early in the morning. I’m sure Phillip and Arthur made some provision for keeping an eye on the office—maybe someone who manages the building, who would stop by periodically. I didn’t have the chance to ask if there were signs of a break-in, although it seems that anyone who wants to can get into anything these days without leaving much evidence. I don’t know what state the office was in—messy or untouched. But to give you the narrowest answer to your question, if someone came upon Arthur from behind, unexpectedly, he could probably not distinguish him from Phillip. Both are men of a certain age, with fairly short silver hair, of similar height and build, and partial to nice suits. So if someone did not know them well, he could have lashed out, mistaking one for the other.”
“But someone who knew one or the other would not have made that mistake,” Seth said, almost to himself. “Did Phillip say he had an appointment this morning?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. As I told you, he gets restless when he’s away from his work for too long. You might even call his behavior compulsive. That’s always been true. Add to that these other problems, and I think he wanted to get back to something familiar, that he understood—his comfort zone, his office. Just to center himself again. As far as I know he didn’t expect to stay long, although he’s been known to lose track of time. But the short answer? There was nothing unusual about his going in for a few hours, whether or not he was meeting someone.”
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