Loyal Be Jack

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Loyal Be Jack Page 9

by Robert Tarrant


  We were walking down a subtle grade when Katharine slipped on the slick leaves. She grabbed my arm, and the force spun me around facing her. To keep from falling, I wrapped my free arm around her. By the time we had both regained our balance, we were locked in a full embrace. Katharine gasped, “Oh, Jack,” and buried her head in my chest. I thought she was referring to her near fall, until she looked up at me. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I’m just so sorry. Please forgive me. Please.”

  First the tears over the loss of her dad and now this. I’d seen more emotion from her on this one day than in all of the years I’d known her combined. Katharine was not a crier. This was something new. Or a display of feelings she had never allowed me to see before. I pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “There is nothing to forgive. The past is the past. Let’s not look back, let’s just experience today.” Her head was back on my chest, and her arms tightened their hold around me. A few moments later, we parted, and I snapped on the flashlight. “Okay, Houdini, pull out your magic tissue,” was my attempt to lighten the moment.

  Katharine smiled wanly and complied. She wiped her cheeks and then threaded her arm through mine, clasping my hand. “I’m going to hold on to you, if you don’t mind? I’d just as soon not repeat that little dance step.” We headed down the trail with our arms locked the same as they had been returning down the aisle after being pronounced man and wife.

  We rounded a bend that plunged us into darkness. I was about to turn on the flashlight again when I noticed a small red light wink once in the black ahead. I stopped abruptly. Even holding my arm, Katharine nearly fell again. She exclaimed, “What . . . what is it, Jack? Why’d you stop?”

  I squinted into the darkness. Nothing. “I saw something. A blinking red light. Well, it blinked once.”

  “Where?”

  “Out there somewhere. I think directly in front of us.” Just then I saw it again. One short blink of a faint red light. “There, did you see it?”

  Katharine was leaning forward, staring into the darkness ahead. “I didn’t see it. Could it have been an animal?”

  “Maybe, if it only has one red blinking eye.”

  She dug her fingers into my arm in obvious rejection of my put down. “Shine the light out there.”

  I turned the flashlight on and started to raise it when the red light blinked again. Knowing the beam would obliterate the blink, I shined the light down at the ground. “There, did you see it that time?”

  “I did. Shine the light up there, before it gets away.”

  She was right. We were certainly never going to identify the source of the red blink in the dark. I shined the light in the general area from which I believed the blink had emanated. I asked, “You see anything?”

  We both stared ahead. Katharine replied, “No. Do you?”

  “Nope. Let’s move forward a little.”

  She grasped my arm tighter as we slowly moved forward. “Do you think it’s safe?”

  I stopped, bringing Katharine to a halt alongside. “Well, yeah, I think so.” It suddenly dawned on me that there could be a creature out here that might pose a danger. Cougars and bobcats have both been identified in Michigan in recent years. Do either of them have red eyes? How the hell should I know? I’m certainly no Davy Crockett. I shined the light slowly across the trail. Suddenly, I saw the light blink again. Six feet off the ground. Damn, maybe it was a cat. I said, “There, I saw it again. It’s up in a tree.” I did my best imitation of a roaring animal while waving the flashlight beam violently from side to side in the area I’d seen the blink.

  “Up in a tree? I bet I know what it is.”

  “What? Some kind of cat? A cougar or bobcat?”

  Katharine chuckled and said, “No, I’ll bet it’s one of dad’s game cameras. He’s got two or three of them out here somewhere. I’ll bet it’s one of them.”

  We inched forward with me shining the light into the trees. When I saw the next blink, I realized it was certainly more mechanical than natural. Finally, we identified the rectangular object attached to a branch. It was really difficult to spot because it was painted in a camouflage pattern that blended in with the tree bark.

  I asked, “How do you see the pictures it takes?”

  “I think it’s got a memory card in it. You take the card out and put it in the computer and download the pictures.”

  “Want to do that? Might be interesting to see the creatures that we share the trail with.”

  Katharine said, “Sure. In fact, let’s take the whole camera in with us. I’m not certain how the memory card comes out. It’ll be a lot easier to take it out inside. Besides, I’m not sure, but I think the red light might mean that the batteries are low. I think I remember Dad telling me that once. Let’s just take it down and take it inside.”

  I had to stretch to reach the camera but was able to unclasp the strap that held it to the tree branch. We turned and headed back toward the lodge. Katharine carried the camera while I carried the flashlight. Our free arms were interlocked.

  ***

  Once we were back inside, we went up to the study and rummaged through the desk drawers until we found the camera’s memory card reader. Katharine brought her laptop computer to the dining table, and we resumed the seats we had occupied during dinner. It took us a couple of minutes, but we figured out how to open the camera and remove the memory card. Katharine attached the card reader to her computer and inserted the memory card. Once she opened the photo app on her computer, hundreds of photos became visible. They were black and white and a little grainy but certainly clear enough to make out the images. Most were taken at night with the camera’s infrared flash providing the light to take a photo but not be seen by the creature. We saw deer, squirrels, rabbits, and fox. Some of the photos contained no animals, and we decided those had been triggered by moving tree limbs during windy weather.

  After a few minutes, we became a little bored with the redundant wildlife photos and began to move quickly through the frames. Each frame had the date and time it was taken noted. We could tell by the recent dates that we were nearing the end when a frame containing a human image flashed by. I told Katharine to go back so we could take a closer look. She started to click back through the frames. “It would have been you. When we started on our walk, you said you had gone out a couple of times.” What she said was true, but the trails honeycombed the property, and Katharine was choosing our course tonight. I didn’t recall ever going down that particular section of trail on my previous walks.

  Katharine found the photo we were looking for and enlarged it on the screen. It clearly showed a man walking down the trail, but it wasn’t me. The date was yesterday, and I was pretty certain the time would have corresponded with the time I was in town at the Buck Pole. I started to wonder aloud who the guy was and what he was doing on the property. Katharine said that even with the perimeter fence and the signs identifying it as private property, they sometimes got trespassers. She said it was more likely to happen in the fall during hunting season than any other time of the year.

  Katharine started to resume clicking through the pictures, but I had her return to the frame that captured the guy. I stared at it. He wasn’t dressed like a hunter. At least not like the ones I’d seen at the Buck Pole. He wore a dark windbreaker and dark denims. I couldn’t make out exactly what he wore on his feet, but it looked more like shoes than boots. He didn’t look like a guy dressed for a walk in the woods. He appeared to be of medium height and build. The shoot wasn’t clear enough to make out any details of his face or to even read the logo on the baseball cap he wore. Something didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Katharine didn’t seem to be concerned, so I let it pass.

  After we finished looking at the photos from the trail camera, Katharine suggested we have a nightcap. While she found a bottle of brandy and a couple of glasses in the bar, I stoked the dying fire in the fireplace. I had already taken a seat on one of the couches when s
he handed me my brandy. She sat down on the center cushion of the same couch, tucking her legs under her and turning to face me. “Thanks for today, Jack. I feel more relaxed than I have since Dad first got sick.” I didn’t have a response. I wasn’t really certain how I felt. We clinked glasses and each took a sip of brandy.

  Katharine started to talk about her dad and the times she had spent roaming this property with him. Benjamin wasn’t a hunter, but he loved the out-of-doors. She related a story of the two of them sitting on a fallen tree for an hour watching the deer feeding in an opening. Her description sounded like the old orchard I had seen on my first walk. She said, “I guess that’s why I was always trying to get you to go for walks on the trails with me.” An impish smile crossed her face, and she added, “But we always seemed to find something else to do when we were alone out there.”

  A warm glow coursed through my body. “Even if we didn’t see much wildlife, we did have fun, though, didn’t we?”

  She locked me in her gaze. I couldn’t read her face other than to recognize a softness in her features that I hadn’t seen in a very long time. Her voice was low, almost a purr. “That is true, Jack. We did have a lot of fun. More fun than I’ve had . . .” She was interrupted by the ring of her cell phone. She pulled it out of her back pocket and looked at the screen. “Oh, Phil.” Looking back toward me, she said, “I really need to take this. I promised I’d call him to let him know I had gotten up here okay, but I forgot.”

  Katharine rose from the couch and started in the direction of the master suite. I heard her say, “Hi, hon. I was just about to call you. How was your day?”

  I finished my brandy while staring into the fire and attempted to align the competing emotions I was feeling. Ending with more questions than answers, I decided to go to bed. Maybe everything would become clearer in the light of a new day.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I awoke to the aroma of sizzling bacon. I dressed and made my way to the kitchen. Katharine, dressed in an oversized Michigan State University sweatshirt over yoga pants, was humming to the low background music playing in the kitchen. I recognized the sweatshirt as an old one of mine. When she saw me in the doorway, she smiled and said, “Good morning, Jack. There’s coffee in the pot. You sleep well?”

  I replied, “Yeah, I slept fine.” The truth was I hadn’t really slept that well at all. I kept replaying the day in my mind. Well, the part of the day that transpired after I came back and found Katharine here. For so long I had framed her in only the images my mind had captured that night I saw her and the judge in the hotel room. Those images had blocked out all of the good memories of the past and totally defined her to me. Now, in spite of myself, I found yesterday’s interactions dulling the images. Some of the good memories of the past were making it past my mental blockade and mixing with the pleasant ones of yesterday.

  After filling my mug, I turned to Katharine and said, “You must have slept well. You’re up and at it this morning.”

  “I did sleep well. I always sleep well up here. Something about this place. It’s just relaxing.” Her eyes brightened. “Hey, remember when we used to stay down in the little cottage? Sleep on that screened-in porch and listen to the frogs croaking on the pond?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Those were fond memories, indeed. “How could I forget.”

  For a moment we stood in the kitchen gazing at each other. Katharine started to take a step toward me, but as if the movement broke the trance, she turned and opened the refrigerator. “Scrambled eggs, okay?”

  We ate breakfast and finished the pot of coffee. As we were picking up the dishes, Katharine said she would come up to help me as soon as she cleaned up the kitchen. I offered to help, but she told me she knew that she had been an interruption yesterday and that it was fine if I got back to work. She would be up in a few minutes. I knew that there were a number of reasons I should tell her that it wasn’t necessary that she help. Just the activity of being immersed in her dad’s personal notes might be too painful this soon after his death. And what if we did discover some serious transgression on his part? How would that make her feel? I knew I should tell her that her help wasn’t necessary, I just couldn’t. The truth was, I had enjoyed her company yesterday, and I wanted to spend the time with her.

  The first thing I did when I got upstairs was to rearrange the desk so that Katharine would have a workspace directly across from me. I had just finished resorting the boxes when she came upstairs. I explained the approach I had been employing, reading Benjamin’s handwritten journals in chronological order and only consulting the accompanying legal documents when something seemed curious. She said that seemed like as good an approach as any and suggested that while I was working from the beginning of his career forward, she could begin at the end and work backward. We would meet in the middle. Sounded good to me. I gave her the appropriate box from the stack, and we dove in.

  As I worked, my concentration kept waning. I found myself glancing up at the person across the desk. Damn, Katharine was a gorgeous woman. There was no denying that. Even with minimal makeup and dressed down, she was, without doubt, a head-turner. She projected the image of an all-American girl, the girl next door, but with a sultry edge. As she concentrated, she had a way of pursing her lips that was just plain sexy. One time she looked up and caught me staring. She smiled warmly but didn’t say anything.

  Katharine had nearly finished the box she was working on when she said, “Now, this is a case that might well have presented an opportunity for Dad to do something he would later regret.”

  “Really? What’s it about?”

  “Long story. I’ll give you the condensed version.” She settled back and steepled her hands, obviously deep in thought. “Eric Russell was . . . well, is a very wealthy businessman. He made a fortune in the tech industry in the Silicon Valley but returned to his roots in Oakland County. He bought several companies supplying tech products to the auto industry and continued to grow his fortune. His legal work was handled by Dad’s firm. Evidently, everything went great for him with the exception of his marriage. His marriage was miserable, but they had married long before he amassed his fortune, and there was no prenup. Testimony showed that he desperately wanted a divorce, but didn’t want to take the financial beating it would entail. Lo and behold, his wife dies in a supposed carjacking. Long story short, the police develop information that he hired a hit man through an intermediary. The actual hit man was never identified, but Russell was charged with solicitation to commit murder. No one in Dad’s firm did criminal defense, so Russell retains Jason Murray as his defense attorney.”

  I interrupted. “As I recall, Murray is a real shark.”

  “You recall correctly. Very successful shark. Murray utilizes every delay tactic known to the legal profession. Over time, witnesses start to drop out of sight. The case weakens, and Russell is acquitted. It would be the end of the story, but the Russells had two adult children. They file a civil suit against their father. Dad does defend the civil suit. It ends in a sealed settlement. I really don’t know what the terms were. Dad never said, and I never asked. I do know that Dad felt dirty defending Russell under the circumstances, even in a civil suit.”

  “You think he felt bad enough about it to feel it needed to be rectified? How could it be rectified? There was a settlement. Benjamin was only fulfilling his role in the legal system. Might have been distasteful work, but it was necessary.”

  Katharine shook her head. “I don’t know.” She paused and then added, “Unless it had something to do with the actual killer. The actual killer was never identified. There were rumors amongst some of the cops that the killer might be afraid that Russell had identified him to Murray or Dad. I don’t know if they were saying those things out of spite or if they believed it. It did shake Dad for a period. He was concerned.”

  “So, you think that his notes might contain the identity of the killer and that he wants me to take that information to the authorities?”

&
nbsp; We were both silent for a couple of minutes as the gravity of the subject sunk in. Katharine said, “It doesn’t really make sense that Russell would tell Dad that kind of thing, even if he did know. Remember the theory of the case was that Russell had utilized an intermediary to hire the killer. He may well not know the actual identity.”

  “Yeah, sounds more like the cops trying to jerk the chains of the defense attorneys.”

  Katharine looked pensive. “The only thing is . . . Russell is notorious in business circles as an overbearing employer. Anyone who works for him must endure his constant hands-on management style. He may have demanded to know from the intermediary who the killer was.”

  “That doesn’t mean he would tell your dad. I can’t believe that your dad would have wanted to know.”

  Katharine looked down at the pages of handwritten notes in front of her. “I guess there is only one way to find out.”

  ***

  While Katharine read Benjamin’s personal notes concerning the Russell case, I picked up where I left off. A few minutes later, I found a lengthy set of notes concerning a settlement Benjamin had negotiated directly without any accompanying legal suit ever being filed. The notes were somewhat vague or intentionally coded, but it sounded like an allegation of sexual assault against someone Benjamin represented. He reached a financial settlement with the victim. Whatever legal documents were executed were not in the box. All references to the client referred to him by the name Shifty. At least, I thought it was a name by the way it was utilized. I found the choice curious as it just didn’t seem like a name Benjamin would choose as even a code name for someone. His notes primarily focused on how distasteful he found the tasks involved. How he had convinced the victim that if she made the situation public, it would destroy her own reputation. He convinced her that he really had her best interests in mind. That bringing public accusations against her assailant would not relieve her pain but force her to relive it. That with the monetary settlement he was proposing she could at least move on with her life and begin to put the whole ugly event behind her. It was obvious from Benjamin’s notes that he struggled deeply with his role in the entire matter. His only solace seemed to be a reference that indicated that he had squeezed twice as much for the victim out of Shifty than Shifty had initially proposed to pay. The notes also made it clear that Benjamin had gone to lengths to assure that his own participation in the matter did not run counter to any criminal statutes or the Michigan Rules of Professional Conduct that govern attorneys.

 

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