by A. L. Jambor
"I don't know..."
"Phil and I think it might have been Joan. She had a motive; at least we think she did if she was jealous of Charlotte." She sipped her tea. "It makes sense. Why else would he have been so determined to stop me?"
"So Joan is your suspect."
"Joe, Joan, or even Josh."
"Why Josh?" Constance asked.
"Because he was seeing Charlotte and I think that baby was his."
"And your proof?"
"Cal Baker."
"Cal Baker?"
Mari leaned forward. "He told me that Jack Womack had gone to England right after Hitler invaded Poland. That was in 1939, two years before Charlotte was pregnant. Your friend said that her mother had seen Josh go into Charlotte's cottage. I just put two and two together."
Constance was quiet. They sipped their tea and listened to the rain slow down until it was a drizzle.
"I think the rain stopped, and I think you might have something there." She looked at Mari. "Have you gone to Cheryl's house yet?"
"No."
"Don't wait too much longer. She really wants to get rid of that stuff."
"I'll call her tomorrow." Mari looked out the window. "It does look like it stopped."
"You can stay here if you like. I have plenty of room."
"Thanks, but I like to sleep in my own bed." Mari smiled. "And thanks for rescuing me."
Constance walked her to the door and watched as she picked up her bike and walked to the street. She was still limping badly.
"Go see a doctor," Constance said.
"I'm fine."
Constance shook her head. Young people.
Mari
Mari walked her damaged bike and stayed on the sidewalk. The lights were on in Cassie's and she thought of what Constance had said about going to the hospital. Cassie could look at her leg.
She left her bike in front of the garage and hobbled to Cassie's back door. She knocked, and then walked in. Cassie was at the table with Joey playing a game of checkers. Her smile faded when she saw Mari's clothes.
"You're all muddy," she said.
"I fell in the road."
"Are you all right?" Cassie got up and went to Mari. "Did you hurt anything?"
"I fell on my side. My leg hurts a little."
"Mari, what are you doing out there on a night like this anyway?"
"I was at the library and it started when I was on my way home."
Cassie looked at the clock and then at Joey.
"Time for bed now, put the game away, and go wash up."
"But we didn't finish it," he protested.
"I have to help Mari. We'll start it over tomorrow." She looked at Mari. "Sit."
Mari took her usual seat at the table and watched Joey putting the checkers into the box. He put the lid on the box and took it out of the kitchen. She wished he had taken longer when Cassie sat and looked at her with her nurse eyes.
"Constance came and rescued me."
"That was very nice of her, but you should have called and I would have picked you up."
Mari exhaled. "I know, but it didn't start until I was halfway here." She paused. "And I saw someone in the road that made me stop short."
Cassie pursed her lips. "Celia."
"Charlie Jackson in his wheelchair, and what's really weird is that he spoke to me."
"That's what's really weird, that he spoke to you."
Mari exhaled again. "Yeah, and I didn't even know he died."
"He didn't. He was brought up to intensive care this afternoon. He's in a coma."
The hairs on Mari's arms stood up. "Maybe that's why he can talk."
"And wander around town in his wheelchair."
"You don't believe me," Mari said.
Cassie folded her hands on the table.
"I haven't made up my mind yet. So, what did he say?"
"He told me to leave us alone."
"Us?"
"Yeah, us. Constance and I think he's trying to protect someone, and I think it's Joan. She had the strongest motive. Someone told me that Josh had been seen going to Charlotte's cottage, and if Josh was the baby's father, that would have set off his mother."
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Cassie asked.
Mari smiled. For the first time in a long time, she felt like her old self.
"Yeah, I am."
Cassie felt the side of Mari's leg. "You might have reinjured it when you fell. You should go to the free clinic in Oceanville."
Cassie looked up and saw Mari biting her lower lip. Mari hadn't left Cape Alden since moving into the apartment, and the idea of leaving made her anxious. She hadn't told Cassie or anyone else about how afraid she was to leave town.
"Mari, you should go to the clinic."
"I heard you."
"I can take you there tomorrow." Mari's hand began to shake, and then her shoulders. "Are you all right?"
"I can't go."
"What's the matter?"
"I can't leave Cape Alden."
"Since when?" Cassie looked concerned.
"Since I moved into the apartment."
Cassie saw the terror in Mari's eyes and worried. This was something new, and it had been months since Mari talked to a therapist. She also knew Mari was broke, and the waiting list at the mental health clinic was full for months.
"Okay. I won't push you, but you let me know if that leg gets worse."
"I promise."
Cassie sighed. "I do have two children, don't I?"
Mari smiled. "And you love us, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. Lord help me, I do."
Mari left Cassie's and walked across the yard. The clouds had parted and she stopped at the stairs to her apartment to look at the full moon. It was a beautiful night now that the rain had stopped. The moon was covered in a gray haze and clouds looked as if they were flying by. She sat on the steps, which were still wet from the rain, and winced when she felt the cool dampness. She got up, slowly ascended the steps, and glanced one more time at the heavens before going inside.
Phil
Phil's last customer had almost sent him out the door. He just wasn't suited for face to face customer service, and he kept telling himself it was only until the end of the summer, but then someone would ask him for something he'd never heard of, which sent him to the storeroom where he'd pretend to take inventory.
Mari was always on his mind. The last time he saw her, they had gone to visit Lorraine and met the old man at the bar. Sometimes she would forget time, and then he wouldn't hear from her for a couple of days. She never seemed to notice how much time had passed, but he did, and he missed her. Phil didn't like missing someone. He'd never let himself get close enough to anyone, and now he knew why. You couldn't control them.
He hadn't seen Celia, either, and was surprised to find that he missed her, too. It seemed as though all the women in his life had abandoned him, except for his mother, who called daily to "encourage" him to find a better job.
He'd sent out more resumes and searched online for jobs in IT, but as more time went by, he found himself thinking about the case and wishing he could do what Mari did -- research for a television show. He liked looking for clues and learning about the people involved. He knew his contributions had been useful to Mari, and it was exciting to see her eyes light up whenever he saw something she hadn't. As he stocked the shelves in the hardware store, Phil imagined the two of them traveling around the country, pursuing leads and interviewing people. He'd take notes while Mari talked. It was a wonderful dream and it helped to keep him sane while he shoved little packs of screws on a rack.
Mari had told Phil that summer was her favorite season. He used to love it, too. He'd take his two weeks' vacation during the summer and fix things around the house that were on his to-do list. He'd stop at four and walk to town, have dinner in the café or at Morton's, and then sit on a bench watching the waves roll in and the moon rise over the ocean.
He looked at the clock and realized
that Mari might appear any minute. She always came a little early, if she came, and she'd wait for him on the steps in front of the hardware store. The moon was full and he had thought about taking her to his bench and watching it rise over the water, but he didn't know if Mari could sit still long enough to enjoy it. She was always moving; stirring her coffee, tapping her fingers or her feet, or using her hands when she talked. Sometimes it was exhausting just watching her. Could a woman like Mari enjoy a peaceful moonrise?
He grabbed a broom from the storeroom and went up the first aisle. As he swept the floor, Phil kept his eye on the door. His enthusiasm for sweeping was something Jerry had told him he needed to work on, and as his boss approached him, he braced himself for another diplomatic dressing down. He clenched his teeth when he saw Jerry's face, and the smile he wore when he was about to say something maddening.
"You missed a spot there, Phil," Jerry said. He pointed to the end of the aisle Phil had just swept. "You've got to get your back into it, boy. Chop, chop, it's almost six."
Phil's grip on the broom handle grew as he imagined himself shoving it...he saw her at the door. She looked happy, like she'd learned something and couldn't wait to tell him. He smiled as she came toward him.
"What did he say?" she asked. "I can see it on your face."
"Oh, nothing, just the usual." He looked at her face. "You haven't come by in a few days."
"And you didn't call."
"Was I supposed to call?"
"You were gonna call that other lady, remember?"
Phil squinted and blushed. "I forgot about her."
"Oh well, that's okay because something weird happened last night."
"Weirder than usual?" he asked.
"Yes, weirder than usual. Charlie Jackson is in the hospital in a coma."
"What's weird about that?"
"While he was in intensive care on life support, he was also on the road when I rode home from the library and told me to 'leave us alone.'"
"He said us?" Phil asked.
"Yeah, us. What do you think he means?"
Phil looked around for Jerry and kept sweeping while Mari followed him.
"I think it means he is trying to protect someone," she said. "Or someone's reputation."
Phil moved the broom down another aisle.
"They're all dead," he said. "So I don't think he's trying to protect anyone except himself."
She put her hand on his arm. "Then why say us?"
"Phil, have you checked for loose packs?" Jerry was standing at the end of the aisle. He looked at Mari. "Can I help you find something?"
"No," she said. "I was just leaving."
Jerry frowned at Phil as she passed him and went outside. Phil shrugged and continued to sweep. Five minutes after six, Phil came outside and found her on the steps.
"So, do you want to eat?" she asked. Phil put his hands in his pockets. "We can get an ice cream cone."
"Okay," he said.
They each got a cone at the ice cream store and started walking, with Mari guiding Phil toward the lighthouse. They sat on a bench in front of the lighthouse and looked toward Charlotte's cottage as they finished their cones. Phil loved their growing familiarity. They could sit for several minutes without saying a word. The moon was just starting to rise and Phil wished this moment could go one forever, but Mari had something on her mind.
"I want to go to the cottage," she said.
Phil shuddered.
"Why?"
"Oh, come on, Phil, you know why. It's something I have to do if I'm gonna do this right. And besides, I want to get a feel for it."
"But people have gotten hurt trying to go in there."
"Yeah, well, shit happens."
"What about Harry?" Phil said.
She glared at him. He knew she didn't like to talk about Harry.
"I asked you not to talk about him."
"I know, but at least when I do, you listen."
"I'll go to the cottage myself then. I'm not..." She hesitated. "I'm not afraid."
He saw her hand shake and knew that if she thought about it long enough, she would have an anxiety attack. The tremor would grow if she continued to think about going to the cottage alone, so he got up.
"Well, then," he said, "we might as well get it over with."
"No," she said.
"You said you weren't afraid."
"I lied, okay?" Her shoulders were shaking now. "I don't really want to go there, not at night anyway."
"It's six-forty-five. It's still light."
"Stop it. You know how I get now..." She looked at him, and he felt guilty. "I want to see it. I just can't stop this thing in me." She stood and put her hand on his arm. "Something changed when I hit my head, something in my brain, and now, I get scared whenever I have to do something new."
"I know."
"It just pisses me off so much. How am I going to get this job done if I can't even look at that cottage?" She let go of his arm and threw her arms in the air. "Did I tell you I can't leave Cape Alden? That every time I think about it, I have an anxiety attack?"
He looked at her face. She looked like a kid, a very sad little girl who wanted him to fix her, but Phil couldn't. She took his hands, held them tightly, and bit her lower lip. She looked at the lighthouse, at the sea, and toward the cottage. Her hands shook.
"There are no jobs in this town, Phil. If I can't leave Cape Alden, what the hell am I gonna do?"
Now he wrapped her hands in his and squeezed them. His hands were warm and smooth, and her anxiety began to melt away.
"You need to go back to that therapist," Phil said.
"I can't afford her." She pulled her hands away.
She started walking back toward town and Phil followed her. She was limping and the limp grew worse as she walked. Phil imagined waving his hand and sending them back eight months to before the accident, before he killed Harry, before he hurt Mari so badly, and the idea lifted his remorse for a second, but no more. He followed her, never catching up, until they came to town. When they reached the hardware store, he called after her.
"I'm tired."
She stopped and looked at him. "I'll come by tomorrow."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'll remember."
He watched her until she was out of sight and then he saw Celia standing across the road. She stepped into the street and came toward him, but it was hard to see her face. Phil felt the urgency she was trying to convey to him, and he knew that no matter what, he and Mari had to find out who killed Charlotte Johnson, or none of them would rest in peace.
Ginger
Charlene was collecting Charlie's bills and feeding Beelzebub when someone came to the door. She opened it to find an attractive elderly woman standing on the porch. She smiled at Charlene.
"Hello. I'm Charlie's sister, Mrs. Turner."
"Oh, hello, I didn't know you were coming. I guess you got my message."
"My sister did, and she told me. I guess I should have called you to let you know, but I was in such a hurry to get here I just never thought of it."
She came in pulling her suitcase on wheels behind her. Her scent followed her -- a pleasant combination of lavender and vanilla -- and she wore just a touch of lipstick. Her cheeks were rosy and she wore her silver-streaked hair in a short, fashionable style. Charlene guessed her age to be around seventy.
"So how is Charlie?"
"He's not doing well," Charlene said. "He's in a coma. It was another stroke."
"Then I guess I'd better get over there right away."
"Are you planning to stay here?"
"Honestly, I hadn't thought about it, but it would be nicer than a hotel."
Charlene took the handle of her suitcase and began walking toward Charlie's room.
"You can use his room. I've changed the sheets."
"Are you sure he won't mind? I can use another room." Mrs. Turner looked up the stairs. "I'd forgotten how high that staircase is."
"He won't
mind at all," Charlene said.
She brought Mrs. Turner to the room and put the suitcase on Charlie's desk.
"It will be easier for you to get to your things. There's food in the fridge and coffee in the cabinet. There's also enough cat food for a while."
"Thank you," Mrs. Turner said. "So, he has a cat?"
"He's a gray tabby, but he's a bit beaten up. I think he just wandered in one day and stayed. Charlie named him Beelzebub."
"Oh, my, what an awful name."
"I'll leave you alone so you can freshen up. There's a key in the kitchen you can use while you're here."
Mrs. Turner took out the two dresses she'd brought with her, hung them up, and freshened her lipstick. She ran her hand over her hair and sighed.
It had been a long flight with two connections, and she didn't feel like going to the hospital, but something told her she should, and she always followed her intuition.
Joan had named her Virginia. She'd been born after Joe went overseas, and she was their youngest child. She had grown up on the farm in Wisconsin where she blossomed into a lovely young woman, married a boy from high school, and had two children, both girls.
While her brother was mayor of Cape Alden, she and her family had visited him once. She remembered he had been cordial, but cool, toward her, and since she hadn't known him well when she was a child, she didn't feel any particular allegiance to him. He was a mythic figure in her family, the successful politician, the man who brought Cape Alden into the twentieth century. Her grandmother was so proud of him. It was Grandma who had raised Virginia after her mother died, and she had nicknamed the little girl Ginger.
Birdie had asked her to go to New Jersey and find out what was going on with Charlie. She was concerned about his house and his money. Birdie had hoped to inherit from Charlie, whom she knew was estranged from his children, and she had made it clear to him that she needed funds, and that he had a duty to take care of his family.
"Find out what happens to the money," Birdie said. "Those kids don't give a fig about him. It should go to us."
Ginger had been well taken care of by her husband, who'd left her well off, and she had worked all her life as well. While she sympathized with Birdie's plight, she didn't agree that her brother had a duty to support them. She was a bit intimidated by her sister, and had let Birdie talk her into going to New Jersey and tending to their ailing brother so that he would have a proper burial should the need arise. From what his caregiver said, the need was imminent.