The Death of Alan Chandler (The Red Lake Series Book 1)

by Rich Foster

  She found it a relief the next morning when Charles left the house. In small ways she found he was like Alan. He was needy of attention. She often had the urge to flee the room so that she could breathe alone. Not that she no longer found Charles charming and mostly a pleasure to be with, but as she thought to herself, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing!

  For a couple days she amused herself with shopping, but this was spoiled in part by the plebeian shops in Beaumont and the knowing that people were pointing at her and whispering when her back was turned. Occasionally she would catch a phrase such as “She’s the one they say did it. You remember…”

  Lilly pretended not to hear. But she was accustomed to more deferential treatment after months on the Queen Mary and after similar things happened three days in a row she had retreated to the Blain Estate and stopped going out.

  At the end of the week Charles called to say he was detained. Rather than relief, Lilly now felt piqued, certain that he was having fun in Denver while she languished in Beaumont. By Saturday afternoon, sheer boredom pushed her to pack a bag in the Mercedes and drive out of town.

  Light flurries fell as she drove up 218 toward Red Lake. It seemed to be years since Charles and she had searched the shoulder of this road seeking signs of Alan car. As she climbed higher the ground along the road became more completely covered by snow. She drove cautiously but the Mercedes held the road well. A snowplow swept around a curve, its yellow beacon light rotating and spreading sand on the road. She heard small specks hit the side of her car and she silently cursed “stupid people who could not do their job right.”

  She crested the pass and dropped down into Red Lake. It was mid afternoon and she stopped at a restaurant overlooking the Lake. She wandered into the bar and found a table by the window. Ice had formed in the center of the lake but the rim was still open water. Across the bay she could see the ski runs on the side of the mountain, but it was doubtful they were open yet.

  The cut of Lilly’s clothes, her Rolex watch, significant diamonds, and platinum lighter were ample motivation to stir the staff to levels of obsequious service that would hopefully promote a generous tip. She looked at the wine list and sniffed in contempt and then ordered what she found to be least offensive. She lit a Dunhill cigarette and dropped the red and gold pack on the table. She had acquired a regular smoking habit along with other expensive and sometimes unhealthy tastes during the cruise. Only hard work in the gym had kept the pounds off after three full meals and cocktails everyday.

  When the red wine came she downed the drink so quickly that it mattered little if it were Rothschild’s 68 or plunk. She ordered another and quickly executed it too. When the third drink arrived she slowed her pace, having dulled the edge of her anger with Charles, the world and little people who didn’t know their place.

  She had worked hard. She had put up with a lot in life. She had suffered. All in all she felt rather sorry for herself. Unknown to her conscious mind, Charles’ absence made her feel as though once again she were being abandoned. Subtle inner voices whispered, “look out for yourself”. Feelings of insecurity and fears of not fitting in were re-ignited by people’s whispering. She discovered that in Beaumont she was not sheltered from gossip by money.

  She hadn’t eaten lunch and feeling the wine she felt she should eat something. However, the food she ordered from the hors d’ouvres menu seemed greasy and old. She finished her fourth glass of wine and fourth cigarette. Grimacing she dropped two twenties on the table with disgust and left, leaving the waitress only a dollar ten after the bill was rung up, knowing full well the staff would cast appropriate aspersions of their class after her. It was a petty thing to do but in a small way it made her feel better.

  Concentration and careful placement of her feet brought her to her car without mishap. She told herself she was fine for driving and in fact her ability to handle alcohol had substantially increased over the previous four months. She drove out of town and almost missed the road to the cabin. A new layer of snow covered the drive. She pulled in. The cabin that had appeared so charming when they bought it now seemed shabby and mean to her eye.

  “God this place really is terrible,” she thought, promising herself that they would leave for Vail as soon as it were possible.

  She opened the door with her key. Inside the house was cold and dank. In the late afternoon light it harbored despair. The cabin depressed Lilly and she wondered why she had come up. It seemed too much trouble to open up the house; instead she would go back to town and check into a motel for the night.

  In the kitchen she found a card from Herb Lanski, which said, “If you happen to get this please call me.” It was dated from two months previous. When she was in Beaumont, Lilly had not thought to collect her mail that would have accumulated at the post office, so she had not seen the offer that Herb had tried to present by phone and mail. Having failed to reach her, Herb’s client walked away from the offer.

  Lilly put another Dunhill between her lips, freeing up her hand to dial the realtor on her cell phone. Herb Lanski answered. He was rather brusque when he learned who it was, still harboring animosity over his lost commission.

  “I had some interested buyers over the summer, but when I couldn’t reach you I stopped showing the house!”

  Lilly rummaged in the kitchen draw while he spoke. She had left he lighter in the car. And the stove would not light. Her hand groped for matches.

  “I know I should have called. I left for an extended trip after my husband died.” In the drawer her fingers wrapped around a cold metal object that sent a shiver up her spine. From the back of the drawer she pulled out Alan’s other revolver, the nine millimeter Glock that the police had never found. She looked at its gunmetal blue surface and she felt afraid.

  “I knew you were away Eric told me.”

  Lilly was brought back to the conversation. She set the gun down and pushed it away with her fingertips as if it might turn upon her.

  “Eric?” she asked.

  “Yeah, your brother-in-law, Eric! He told me you were away when he stayed here last summer. He said he didn’t know how to reach you. That was before he got his place over at the mobile home park.”

  Lilly got rid of Herb as fast as she could. She found an opened bottle of scotch in the pantry and poured a double shot. The drink stung, but not as much as the thought that Alan’s brother had been here. Alan would never speak about him. She knew nothing of him. She never knew where he lived or what he did, whether he was the older or the younger. She knew absolutely nothing! Lilly assumed they had a falling out and no longer spoke. She was astonished that Eric knew about the cabin. Evidently Alan and he had stayed in touch. Once again Lilly had a feeling of having been both betrayed and deceived. She wondered what other secrets Alan had taken to the grave.

  Lilly set her glass down hard on the counter. The gun caught her eye and she viewed it with disgust. She hated guns. “I suppose the police still have his other gun,” she thought to herself. Lilly picked up the gun and slipped it into the pocket of her coat. She picked up her suitcase that she had left by the front door and left, following her tracks in the snow back to her car. There had to be a decent resort hotel in town she thought.

  Lilly looked out over the lake. The sky was clouding up and the afternoon light was rapidly failing. Water lapped up under the boat dock that was still in the water. It should have been pulled a month ago, but there had been no one to call and order the work done. Herb Lanski had given up on the house. Lilly was gone. And, Alan was dead!

  She put her suitcase in the Mercedes and walked down to the dock. Looking down into the icy waters she once again thought of Alan, but shook the feeling off.

  That was all past she told herself. The gun in her pocket bumped against her leg as she walked down the dock. Her gloved hand slipped into her pocket and closed on the grip. She had the intent to throw it in the water. Behind her she heard a car and a short honk of the horn. Turning around she saw a police cruis
er parked at the end of the lane by her driveway. Sheriff Gaines emerged from the car.

  “Hello” he called, far too cheerfully for Lilly’s taste. She let the gun slide back into her pocket and pulled out her hand but she said nothing.

  “I was out on patrol and saw a car. I thought I had better check it out.”

  Lilly still said nothing.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked as he moved toward the dock.

  Lilly turned and walked toward him.

  “I don’t forgive and forget Sheriff. And I certainly haven’t forgotten what the inside of your jail is like. So let’s not try to act like we are friends!”

  Sorry, ma’am. I couldn’t help the jail. The law is the law. You break it and I’d have to put you back there again. But it’s nothing personal!”

  Lilly brushed past him and over to her car. She swung the door open and picked her lighter up off the console. She put another cigarette between her lips and lit it just in case the Sheriff came close enough to smell alcohol on her.

  “I was going to town Sheriff, so if you don’t mind?” Lilly did not finish the sentence but only pointed at the patrol car that blocked the drive. Gaines shrugged and got back in his cruiser without saying good-bye. Lilly waited while he turned around and drove up the lane toward the road. She followed, but at the frontage road the Sheriff turned left and she turned right toward town.

  EPILOUGE

  Lilly found a small roadside motel that had cabins along the lake. They were quaint in a nostalgic way. She opened the door to number nine, a wave of heat swelled out to meet her. Lilly turned the heater to low and left the door ajar to cool the room. She found it hard to breathe. Nervously she lit another cigarette. She had emotionally put Alan in the grave and now his ghost threatened to haunt her by his brother’s presence. She wanted no ties. She certainly did not want Eric showing up at her cabin nor in her life. Yet, curiosity made her want to meet Alan’s brother.

  Lilly sat down at the small desk. The gun in her coat pocket bumped hard against the chair leg and she imagined accidentally shooting herself in the foot so she pulled the gun out and pushed it down into her purse.

  Opening the desk drawers, she found a packet of “Golden Bear Cabins” stationary, a list of local restaurants and activities for the Visitor to Red Lake, a bible from the Gideon’s and lastly a local phone book. In the yellow pages, under mobile home parks, she found two listed. One was at the far end of the lake and Herb had said Eric was living in town. She jotted the address down and then decided to go out to eat while she made up her mind as to what if anything she should do.

  She had dinner in what seemed a dismal restaurant that was poorly lighted and thinly patronized. The Caesar salad was passable and she washed it down with white wine. It really was necessary to look up Alan’s brother she thought, if only to make it clear that he was not to use the cabin. Perhaps he was coming around looking for an inheritance. The only thing Alan left behind was a failing career and a thick stack of bills. The waitress brought the check and while she was expressing her hopes that everything was satisfactory, Lilly interrupted to ask if she knew where the Blue Skies Mobile Home Park was. The woman provided what proved to be lucid and accurate directions; Lilly almost wished she had left her a better tip. She did not know why, but for several days she had felt like snubbing people.

  Lilly turned into the entrance of the trailer park. A large neon sign arched the entrance with the name. Lilly stopped at the bank of aluminum mailboxes. Number 42 said E. Chandler. She drove around the loop with memories of her own impoverished youth lashed to the surface by the raw edge of poverty that showed through from the older homes. Old pick-up trucks and dead or dying cars were parked two and three deep at the homes. When she came to number forty-two the driveway was empty, but the light spilled from the windows. She pulled into the drive intending to knock or at least leave a note if no one was home.

  The place appeared neater and better maintained than the rest but “trailer trash was trailer trash” Lilly thought as though to assure herself she really had never been a part of this. Her breath came up in thick clouds in the night air as she mounted the steps. Inside she heard jazz music playing and someone was moving about. With some hesitation she lifted her hand and knocked.

  Alan opened the door to find Lilly on his stoop. He knew one day this moment would come, but he had not expected it to be so soon. He looked at her face and saw her complete astonishment. Obviously she knew he was alive because she had looked him up, but Lilly appeared absolutely ashen below her make-up. Then he noticed how heavy that make up was. He also took in the expensive clothes and the size of diamonds she now wore. When they had lived together she seldom wore more than her wedding ring.

  As for Lilly she was struck mute. She tried to move her mouth and lips but nothing came out. She had never thought they might be twins! Of course twins looked alike, but seeing Eric was like looking into the grave. The face before her was much leaner than Alan’s and it was also bearded but around the eyes it was creepily the same as Alan. The face seemed younger and was far tanner than Alan had been, but the similarities were so great that Lilly felt her skin crawl as if a cold dead hand had reached out and touched her.

  Alan was slow to speak as he appraised his wife at the door. The perfume that wafted toward him was new, so was the odor of cigarettes that clung to her. Lilly had never smoked. Lilly let out a deep breath. A cloud of vapor like smoke swirled around her face as she plunged in; “I’m Lilly Chandler! I, I …I was married to your brother Alan before he died!” she stammered. I just didn’t realize you were twins!

  Alan stepped back from the door and simply said, “Come on in Lilly.” It was in the familiarity of that sentence that she recognized his voice and realized with shock that it was actually Alan.

  “You’re dead! You can’t be alive you bastard!”

  Her voice was shrill with an edge of hysteria. Alan had assumed when she came to the door she was looking for him because she knew he was alive, now he realized the degree of shock he had just given her. But Lilly’s shock moved quickly to explosive anger. She charged into the room and flailed at him with her fists. He pushed her back and she stumbled backward landing on the sofa.

  “You can’t do this to me!” she wailed. And looking around she reached for the nearest object that was a glass on the end table. She launched it flying at Alan’s head. The glass shattered against the far wall, spraying shards of glass across the linoleum floor. Alan held both hands up as if in surrender.

  “Hey isn’t this where we left off?”

  “You framed me you bastard! They arrested me for murder! I was tried for your murder!” Lilly was on the raw edge of rising fury. She clutched at her purse and pulled the Calvin Klein bag open, spilling much of its contents. Then with hands shaking with rage she pulled the 9-millimeter handgun out and pointed it at Alan’s chest. You deserve to die you, you ….you shit!” Then she began shaking so hard that the gun fell from her hands. She sobbed hysterically and Alan waited, uncertain what to do. She seemed dangerously fragile. “You left me! You all left me!”

  “Lilly, I didn’t leave, I was lost in the woods. By the time I got back out, it was you who had left. I didn’t sneak off, I was carried away by the river.”

  Lilly’s sobbing abated a bit. They eyed each other as only former lovers who now find themselves as antagonists can do.

  “I was fighting for my life while you were running after Charles Blain!” As soon as he said it, Alan regretted the words. He could see the look of guilt in her eyes.

  “But I thought you were dead. I was alone and afraid. I was tired of being poor!”

  In that moment Alan saw into the depths of Lilly’s soul in a way he had never done. He saw the insecurity and fear of poverty that drove deep inside of her. For a brief moment he saw past the mask she wore. Had they been able to connect like that in their marriage they might have found mutual warmth and comfort. Then like clouds closing off the sun, the window was gon
e. As he watched, Lilly literally forced her feelings down. She was gulping between breaths as she swallowed them and then the door was closed.

  “Excuse me, may I use your restroom?”

  Alan smiled and pointed down the hall. He gathered up the items that had spilled from Lilly’s purse. He picked up the handgun and put it away in a cabinet. Then he sat alone for a long time in the small kitchen and sipped a beer. To his mild annoyance he smelled cigarette smoke coming from the bath.

  When Lilly came out of the bath she was composed. Her hair was groomed and her make-up carefully lacquered on. To Alan she appeared much like a store mannequin. She looked at him from far away.

  “You’re smoking?’ he asked.

  “What? And you mean you’re not?”

  “No I quit. I guess things change?”

  “Yes they do,” Lilly said. “And I will not have you ruin things for me. I will not be poor again!” Alan was amazed by her lack of interest in how he came to still be alive. She was like a satellite moving silently out of his orbit, drifting off into space, her course only to be altered when acted upon by someone or something outside of herself. “I hope you will be co-operative about a divorce. I will have my attorneys contact you.”

  As she spoke, the front door opened and Rachael walked in. Lilly looked up and down Rachael with silent disapproval and then without a word she opened the door and walked out.

  Rachael knew who Lilly was. She had no jealousy, only mild curiosity that the man she loved could have been married to the woman who just left, the clothes, the body language, the lack of animal warmth. None of it fit. She smiled at Alan, but asked no questions. She knew that later over dinner or lying next to her in bed he would tell her about it.

  Alan came over to the door and slipped his arm over Rachael’s shoulder. He gave her a kiss and pulled her close to his side. Together they watched as the Mercedes backed out of the drive, the headlights bright in their eyes, until the beams swept to the side as the car accelerated away.