by Ken Casper
“Actually, I grew up in the house you’re living in,” he informed her. “It was Frannie’s place.”
“Was she married? Did she have any kids of her own?”
He shook his head. “Her husband died several years before I got to know her. Apparently Frannie wasn’t able to have children, but her mothering instinct was very strong,” he added. “A friend of hers convinced her to become a foster mom.”
Gwyn balanced a dollop of blackberry preserves on the end of her flaky bread. “So it was just the two of you?”
He laughed and buttered the last piece of his own roll. “Just the four of us.”
“Four? In that small house? Who were the others?”
For a fleeting moment, his eyes seemed to fade, a man recollecting. Not with displeasure, but nostalgically and maybe with a bit of regret.
“A year before Uncle Walter sent me to Frannie, she’d taken in a foundling girl. Her name was Emerald Monday. Everybody called her Emmy. She and I grew up together, doing all the things siblings do.” He chuckled fondly. “She was my kid sister, and I was her big brother, a very heady experience.”
“Where is she now?”
Jed inhaled deeply, his body sagging. “I don’t know.”
The desolation in his words was unmistakable, and for a moment Gwyn hesitated to ask the next, logical question. “How come? I mean if you were so close—”
“I’ll get to that,” he said almost sharply, “in a minute.”
Gwyn nodded quietly, aware she’d inadvertently touched a raw nerve. She didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, however, before he continued.
“For eight years it was just Frannie, Emmy and me. Then Frannie took in another kid, a boy a year and a half younger than me, a troublemaker by the name of Will McClain. My world was disrupted when my mother died. His life had been just plain rotten from the beginning. His mother was a junkie. The various men he was told to call daddy or uncle were mostly alcoholics and drug addicts. All of them were abusive. At thirteen, Will was headed down the same dead-end road when Frannie agreed to foster him. She was Will’s last chance before the authorities sent him to reform school.”
“Sounds like Frannie was taking quite a big chance bringing him into her home.”
“Everyone said she was crazy to do it, that he’d corrupt me and maybe hurt Emmy. They hadn’t figured on the force of Frannie’s personality or her brand of tough love. She never failed to praise good, but she was like the wrath of God if you messed up. Will messed up a lot those first few months, and she let him know it, but she also gave him something he’d never had before—genuine affection. She talked to him the way no responsible adult ever had. It took him a while, but eventually he came around.”
June entered the room and asked if they needed anything. Jed requested more hot coffee.
After she left he continued, “With time, Will and I got to be pretty good friends.” He chuckled. “Sharing a bedroom, we didn’t have much choice. It was either get along or kill each other, and I guarantee Frannie wouldn’t have let the survivor live.” The humorous words were out before he seemed to realize what he’d said. When he did, he rushed on as if to cover the blunder. “And Will was absolutely fierce in protecting Emmy-M.”
“Emmy-M?”
Jed cocked an eye and grinned. “That was my pet name for Emmy.”
Gwyn didn’t miss the genuine affection in his reply. But he hadn’t kept in touch with her. A cold shudder crept down Gwyn’s spine. Frannie was dead. Was Emmy, as well?
“You not only had a little sister,” she commented, trying to sound conversational, “but a younger brother, too. Did you keep in touch with Will?”
Jed shook his head.
Gwyn waited, eager to learn what happened to these people who had apparently played such a significant role in his growing-up.
“Everything changed one day.” Jed leaned back in his chair and stared out the windows. He spoke softly and slowly, like a man remembering, reliving a distant past and recounting it as much to himself as to her.
“I was almost eighteen,” he said, “a senior in high school, about to graduate, and—” He didn’t complete the sentence. “Will was sixteen and a junior. He was doing well in school by then, passing all his courses, and was a running receiver on the football team. Emmy had just turned thirteen, still in junior high and starting that mysterious transition from bratty girl to aggravating young woman.”
Jed’s face was a mask, as if the man inside were somewhere else, but Gwyn could feel the emotion emanating from him. Still staring out the window at the swampy lake in the distance, he shook his head.
“Frannie received government support for Emmy and Will, and my uncle’s trust paid for me, but teenagers eat more than average and go through a lot of shoes. She cleaned houses for various people in town during the day, but she didn’t go to work until after we left for school, and she was usually home by the time we returned. Until one day.”
Gwyn shivered. “What happened?”
Jed filled his chest full of air and let it out slowly, as if gathering strength to go on. “On May 4, 1982—it was a Tuesday—we came home in the afternoon, but Frannie wasn’t there. On the rare occasions when she had a late cleaning appointment, she’d leave a note telling us where she was and when we could expect her back. We looked for a note that day but didn’t find one.”
Gwyn could almost see his mind working, sorting through memories, selecting the details he wanted to reveal.
“She didn’t come home that night, either,” he said. “We never saw or heard from her again.”
Gwyn discovered she was trembling. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. Without a trace. All her clothes were still in the house. Her car was in the driveway, but there was no sign of her.”
“That’s unbelievable, Jed. People don’t just disappear without a trace.”
He smiled. “In the years that followed, I read up on cases of missing persons. It’s amazing how many fathers go out for a pack of cigarettes and are never heard from again. Some meet with foul play, but you’d be surprised how many just decide to walk away from their responsibilities.”
“How would someone like that live? You can’t get a job without identification, a Social Security number, a checking account. You can’t even buy an airline ticket without showing a driver’s license.”
“It was easier twenty years ago, but even now, with a little planning it can be done.”
“But surely not Frannie. You said—at least you implied—you were a happy family.”
“We had the usual problems of teenagers growing up, things of little or no real consequence, but that seemed to take on monumental proportions at the time. Were we happy? In the great scheme of things, I guess we were. Of course,” Jed continued, “we know now Frannie didn’t disappear of her own accord. She was murdered.”
“Murdered.” Gwyn said the word with a sort of vague wonder. Characters were killed in books and movies. Like most people, she’d never come face-to-face with premeditated, violent death.
June returned with a fresh pot of coffee, poured and left as quietly as she’d entered. Gwyn admired the woman’s discreet professionalism. Servants were great sources of gossip and inside information, but Gwyn had the feeling if she tried to pump June about her employer or his background, she’d hit a stone wall.
“It was quite a shock when I read the paper this morning,” she commented as she sugared and creamed her second cup.
He sipped his own black. “I knew all along she was dead.”
Chapter Five
GWYN CLUTCHED her cup with both hands and hoped he didn’t notice how badly her fingers were suddenly shaking. He implied there were strains in their relationship, though Gwyn couldn’t tell if he was referring to a specific issue or, as he’d said, the usual melodrama
tic crises that were part of being a teenager.
He brushed crumbs back from the edge of the table. “I mean she had to be dead. Frannie wouldn’t have gone away voluntarily without telling us. There was no reason for her to leave. We were her life. She worked hard at cleaning other people’s houses. She also took very seriously her role as mother, moral guide and protector. Even if she’d had enough of Will’s capers and was tired of my wanting to have my own way all the time, she would never have abandoned Emmy. She’d brought Emmy up from infancy. They were as close as any mother and daughter could be.”
Jed looked over to the side and gazed out the window to the forest and the lake. “There was only one reason Frannie didn’t come home that night. She was dead.”
Gwyn felt a shiver tumble down her spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and asked, “What happened after that?”
He pursed his lips pensively. “I told you the other day that I know about bureaucracies.” The rancor from his earlier words when he’d discussed her advising Tessa Lang to get a court order so she could complete her research was missing now. Gwyn didn’t think he’d fully forgiven her for her interference, but it seemed the heat of his anger was largely spent.
“Frannie had a set housecleaning routine, so I phoned her Tuesday clients. She hadn’t shown up at their houses. I called some of her friends, but none of them had seen her or knew where she was.”
“You must have been frantic,” Gwyn observed soberly.
“Scared is a better word. We knew something was terribly wrong. Frannie was as dependable as the sunrise.”
“Did you notify the sheriff?”
Jed snorted derisively. “I thought about it, but I didn’t want to deal with the law. We’d had a few run-ins over Will, and I’d seen the way Fielder and his men treated Frannie, the snide comments and insults, like she was some bag lady collecting welfare. They’d knocked Will around a couple of times, too, and Frannie made it pretty clear she wasn’t going to tolerate their harassment. So, no, I didn’t call the sheriff.”
Gwyn saw now why Jed had been so disdainful of Logan Fielder. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t blame him.
“If Frannie had been in an accident,” Jed continued, “I figured they’d contact us. Being the oldest, I took charge that night, told the others to do their homework and fixed us something to eat. The next morning I made sure we all got off to school on time.”
Gwyn wondered how his foster siblings had reacted to his playing man of the house. They could have been grateful for his taking charge, or they might have resented his bullying. Jed had said something about always wanting his own way. Gwyn had certainly had a taste of his lordly manner.
Jed fingered his china cup. “Social Services got wind that Frannie was missing, I guess from one of the people I called looking for her. That Wednesday, after Frannie disappeared, two women from Social Services showed up at Emmy’s school, pulled her out of class, escorted her home, packed some of her things and took her away. Will and I came home and found the note they’d left for Frannie, telling her they’d relocated Emmy.”
Gwyn drew back. “Just like that? Surely they—“
“I told you,” he interrupted sharply. “Bureaucrats are interested in rules, not people. Frannie hadn’t been home the night before. No one knew where she was. As far as they were concerned, she’d violated their rules about being a trustworthy foster parent.”
“Well, I guess they had a point.”
The anger in his eyes turned to ice. “Gwyn, they took Emmy away from the only home she’d ever known.” Ire had his neck muscles tightening and his deep tan darkening. “They did it without telling anyone, without letting her even say goodbye to us, her family, the people she loved. When I tried to find out where she was, they refused to tell me. A friend of ours, Riley Gray, went down to their office and demanded to know what they’d done with her and where they’d taken her. The reward for his concern was that they called the cops and had him arrested for disturbing the peace.”
Gwyn shook her head. “I can’t believe they were so heartless.”
“Believe it,” Jed said tightly. “They only thing public servants care about are their pensions and their petty power trips.”
She could see the vein in the side of his neck throbbing. He hadn’t raised his voice, but he was bitter and still very angry.
“What about Will?” she asked. “What happened to him? And what about you?”
Jed shrugged stiffly. “Since I hadn’t been placed with Frannie through Social Services, I wasn’t their immediate concern. Eventually, they might have tried to get involved, but in a couple of months I would turn eighteen, and they’d have had to turn me loose, anyway.”
He twisted his cup thoughtfully. “Will was another matter. He’d been in the system long enough to know it was only a matter of time before they came for him. As soon as he read the note they’d left, he grabbed a few extra clothes and hightailed it out of there.” Jed paused. “I haven’t seen him since.” Another longer pause. “I looked for both of them for a couple of years,” he finally added, “and then gave up. I figured if they wanted to get in touch, they knew where to find me. They’d disappeared without a trace—just like Frannie.”
“Jed, you don’t think they’re—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. They couldn’t be dead, too. Not like Frannie. After all, Jed knew why they’d disappeared.
He didn’t answer.
“Excuse me, Mr. Jed.” June had came into the room so quietly Gwyn hadn’t even heard her, or maybe Gwyn’s mind was so distracted by the man telling his story she’d blocked out the other sounds around her. “Mr. Sedgwick is here. He says he has an appointment with you for ten o’clock.”
Jed raised his left hand and checked his watch. “I completely lost track of time.” He rose from his chair. “Where is he now?”
“In the sitting room,” the housekeeper replied.
“I’ll take him to the library. Tell him I’ll be with him in a minute.”
“Yes, sir.” June left.
As Gwyn started to get up, Jed moved behind her chair. “We still haven’t decided what we’re going to do about moving your horses.”
“I think they’re safe enough for the time being. After all, they were there while Tessa . . . Ms. Lang was digging.”
“She and her people were at least civilized. While I disagree with what they were doing, I have to admit they showed respect for the land and the animals. Chances are the sheriff will have an army tramping through bushes, cutting fences and poking around. I’ll check out a couple of other fields I have available and get back to you later today or early tomorrow.”
Gwyn could feel the heat radiating from him as he escorted her down the hallway to the front door. She caught a glimpse of a corpulent man in tweeds in the fussy front room as they passed by. Jed walked her to her Rover and held the door for her.
“Thank you for the coffee.” She turned the key in the ignition. The aging car coughed once and started.
He rested his hand on the door frame. “I enjoyed having someone to share it with.”
She looked in the rearview mirror as she putted down the driveway. He stood at the base of the steps to his mansion and watched her for a moment before going back inside. She shouldn’t be impressed by her landlord, she told herself. After all, she’d met beautiful people before. When you’re one of “The Millers” of the fabled Miller Millions, you meet them all: movie stars, athletes, business tycoons, the idle rich, diplomats and presidents. She’d learned a long time ago to discount good looks and practiced charm. Beneath their veneers of sophistication, the rich and famous were often phonies and connivers, selfish, manipulative creatures out only for their own interests and pleasures.
For that reason, jaded as she was, she couldn’t understand why Jed Louis threw her so completely off bal
ance.
She turned right on the paved road and drove the couple hundred yards to the house that had once belonged to the dead woman who’d been found less than a quarter of a mile behind it.
The grave would have been fresh nineteen years ago. It seemed strange that Logan Fielder hadn’t found it at the time. Obviously, the man had been an incompetent investigator. That didn’t explain, though, why he was so antagonistic toward Jed now. Clearly, there was more behind his hostility than an ancient record of teenage pranks and mischief.
Jed’s was a heartbreaking story. Four people living ordinary, peaceful lives one day, their security totally shattered the next. Yet Gwyn didn’t doubt he was telling the truth . . . or at least that everything he’d told her was the truth. She was convinced he hadn’t told her everything. There was something very disturbing about the way he recounted the events of nineteen years earlier.
When Jed had ranted at her and accused her of lying about her horses, which was at least partially true, and then complained about her supporting Tessa Lang over the archaeological dig, he’d looked her straight in the eye. Defiantly. He hadn’t backed off, because he knew he was in the right. She understood and respected that, even though it put her at a disadvantage.
His eye contact had been unsure when he talked about Frannie Granger, as if he were trying to gauge the reaction of his listener. He’d stared out the window, at his plate, sipped cold coffee and nibbled on his crumbly roll, but he’d determinedly avoided looking at her straight on.
Were his the actions of someone not at peace with what he was saying, the behavior of a liar, of someone with a guilty conscience?
Chapter Six
JED BATTED his hand across his face at the incessant bee buzzing around his head. He opened his eyes. Not a bee, a chain saw, he thought. He’d arranged yesterday for some trees to be thinned out on the property south of town. Then logic kicked in. He wouldn’t be able to hear the cutting from here.