For appearance’s sake, Grant enlisted the services of two limousines to transport the Dirkston clan. At the church itself, police and security guards held back the crush of onlookers and media until we were all safely inside and seated at the front in black-draped pews.
Alicia was primed for an Academy Award performance. She leaned delicately on Colin’s arm, pressing a lace-edged handkerchief to her nose with a black-gloved hand and sniffing pathetically. She was dressed in black chiffon that flowed like mist about her fragile frame. Her head was hidden by a wide-brimmed black hat with a snood to contain and cover her golden hair in the back, a demi-veil in the front. She wore stiletto heels and seamed black stockings that displayed her slender legs to perfection.
David escorted me at my request. I felt I needed his stolid support to get me through this ordeal. I wore a black tailored jacket and skirt, devoid of frills and decorations, with a modest velvet pillbox hat. I despised hats but, not wishing to create discord, bowed to Martha’s and Alicia’s advice.
Grant followed us into the church. He seemed out of place and uncomfortable. It was an environment I knew he abhorred. As was my habit these days, I appraised him critically. I had to admit he was actually quite handsome in his dark suit with his hair neatly combed and his face newly shaved.
The ceremony took the better part of two hours. The priest was Greek Orthodox, though it made little difference. Leo had disdained organized religion since early childhood, almost as if it posed a threat to his ambitions for worldly success. If he’d thought to do so, he’d most certainly have disallowed any sort of service. Luckily for the rest of us, he hadn’t. Despite my mysterious sense of apathy, the memorial lent a greater reality to his demise and for that, I was thankful.
At the front of the church, surrounded by wreaths and bouquets, stood a small, black onyx urn that held Leo’s ashes. The smell of burning incense mingled with the thick, sweet perfume of hundreds of flowers was stifling. I tried to take slow, deliberate breaths, barely aware of the droning voice of the priest concentrating instead on the steady grip of David’s hand and my own disassociated thoughts.
The church was full to overflowing, lending further discomfort and I wasn’t the only one relieved when the eulogy was completed. Grant left silently before anyone else to waylay reporters and give them some incomprehensible jargon to take back with them. This allowed the rest of us time to reach the sanctuary of the cars and move off for the private ceremony to be conducted over the burial of the urn within Beacon’s grounds.
I was dry-eyed and because of it, I suspected the crowd condemned me as heartless and unfeeling. In truth, I felt only emptiness. The little black urn meant no more to me than the impersonal words spoken by the pompous, balding priest. I knew it would take some time to put my father to rest in my own heart. I still felt his presence throughout the estate, as if I might come around a corner and find him striding toward me, grinning, or dictating to some junior executive scurrying to keep up, his clear, deep voice echoing resonantly.
Perhaps if I’d been able to see my father’s body, his death would have been easier to accept. But this wasn’t to be. The funeral home provided brief visitation hours but the casket was closed—also at Leo’s request—so it was no more familiar or recognizable than the impersonal black urn.
* * * * *
King Kong was waiting in the entrance hall when everyone straggled back from the burial. He was a typical feline in that he came and went as he saw fit and displayed little loyalty to anyone. After Leo’s death, he disappeared. This wasn’t surprising, since he often embarked on personal business that sometimes kept him away for days. He always returned, however, not much the worse for wear, refusing to give any hint as to where he’d been or what he’d been up to.
Such was the case now. He sat watching us with aloof dignity, his thick black fur almost blending with the black marble floor. His eyes were slitted into yellow-gold chips and his huge, fluffy tail curled around him with just the tip twitching at some inner annoyance.
Alicia drew in her breath and clutched Grant’s sleeve. “Lord, I forgot about the cat!”
I glanced at her curiously.
“Poor old Kong.” David smiled in sympathy, squatted and stretched out a hand.
Kong gave him a lazy perusal, then stood, stretched, blinked twice and turned his back. He sauntered down the hall and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen without a backward glance. David smiled ruefully and stood up.
“Don’t bother with him,” Colin snorted. “Leo’s the only one he paid any attention to. Cats are too stupid to appreciate anything.”
“I wonder if he knows,” Alicia mused.
Grant looked at her and his eyes glittered. “Oh, he knows all right. He’s probably the only one who does know exactly what happened that night by the pool.”
The words gave a hollow echo in the large room and I shivered. “I’m going up to change,” I announced. “There’ll be more reporters on their way, not to mention friends and associates. I think Grant should brief us all on what he’s told them already, so we can get our stories straight.”
Grant nodded agreement, approving of my apparent cool logic. We all agreed to meet in twenty minutes and I escaped just in time, shutting my door solidly and giving in to an unreasonable fear that flowed through me like lava.
A strange sensation had enveloped me. I felt it the minute we stepped into the entrance hall and it remained even after Kong disappeared. To describe it exactly was impossible but it was a feeling akin to being watched from the shadows by covert eyes.
I moved to the closet and pushed the hangers this way and that, aware my hands were trembling. Abandoning that, I fumbled in my drawer for a cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself. I tried to pinpoint a logical reason for my disquiet and finally settled on the lame excuse that the memorial service and funeral shook me up more than I realized. Having accepted this, I crushed out the half-smoked cigarette disgustedly. So much for my resolve to kick the habit!
Turning once more to the closet, I chose soft tan slacks, a cream crêpe blouse with full-length draping sleeves and comfortably low brown shoes. For ornament, I clasped a thin gold chain with a floating heart around my neck.
I brushed my hair and studied my pale face, not impressed by the dark smudges beneath my eyes and the anxious tightness about my mouth. Yes, certainly I was in a worse state than I realized and despite my self-assurances, it took all my courage to descend the stairs some minutes later. I let my eyes scour every inch of the foyer but the feeling was gone. I breathed more easily, and almost convinced that the eerie feeling must have been a product of my vivid imagination, hurried off to join the others.
* * * * *
The official reading of the will took place the next day, and despite the fact that everyone already knew its contents, emotions were high. Grant paced like a caged lion, Colin sat, splay-legged, cracking his knuckles nervously, while Alicia fidgeted with her bangles. David wasn’t present. I decided it was time I quit leaning on him and faced the music alone. I listened impassively, keeping my face blank, all too aware of the furtive looks cast in my direction by all eyes.
The officiating attorney was Henry Legget of Garth, Garth and Legget. He wore cut-down bifocals and eyed Grant and me over the tops of them.
“There will be a ten-day period from this date in which to file for contest of this document but should the will be accepted, stipulations must be complied with before the end of the month. Is this understood?”
I gave a wooden nod and Grant shot him a look that made the little man cough nervously.
“Well, then,” he said, tidying his papers and placing them in his briefcase, “are there any questions? No? Fine.” He snapped the case shut. “I’ll show myself out.”
No one spoke for some moments. I think we were all too dazed. Finally, Alicia announced she needed a drink and scurried off to the library. Colin and Grant eyed me, perhaps hopeful I’d announce some decision. I
nstead, I excused myself and, after grabbing a copy of the will from the desk, escaped before anyone could question me.
David was waiting for my call. He said he’d be happy to see me but he’d be working at the marina all day. In the end, we agreed to have lunch together. It was already after ten but there would be enough time to stop off at the law offices in Manistee before meeting him. I didn’t intend to leave any stone unturned.
There was a definite chill in the air when I left the house. I was grateful for the warmth of my white cardigan. I realized with a twinge that it would be winter in less than two months, which meant long periods of time cooped up indoors. I hoped, if indeed this marriage to Grant was inevitable, he’d at least have the courtesy to move into the Dirkston penthouse in Chicago. Such an arrangement would certainly be more practical. Not only would he be closer to the company offices during this critical time but it would also help to ease the embarrassment of our situation.
My little red Mazda zipped down the drive and I turned north at the main road. I felt relieved to be away from the tense atmosphere at Beacon. It would be nice to keep on driving and never look back. I thought of Kong and the easy assurance with which he rejected everyone. I wished I had the confidence and audacity to do the same.
The drive to Manistee took only fifteen minutes. It was a relatively small town, about the same size as Ludington, with its own small commercial port but fewer curiosity shops for tourists and more supermarkets and chain stores for locals. Quaint, attractive restaurants dotted the harborside and main streets, while a number of old centennial homes, refurbished as bed-and-breakfasts, displayed a unique blend of austere Puritan lines set off by frivolous rococo ornamentation.
Despite its prime location, Manistee didn’t seem to rely on sun worshipers and sports enthusiasts as did many of the other coastal towns. It thrived on its commercial enterprises and kept to itself as much as possible. I decided to take Leo’s will to a law firm there, where I’d be less likely to run into anyone directly associated with Beacon.
I certainly wasn’t going to trust Grant’s word on the futility of contesting it. For all I knew, Grant arranged this whole ridiculous affair just to get his hands on Leo’s money and the corporate assets. It was quite clear to me that he would stand to gain the most from this marriage, acquiring the power to influence the running of Dirkston Enterprises, as well as virtual control of Leo’s private fortunes. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find he was the one who suggested the idea to Leo in the first place.
It didn’t take long to present my questions to the attorney. If he was surprised at the demands set down in the will, he didn’t show it. In the end, he merely agreed to study the document at length and call me as soon as possible. I thanked him, feeling no more comforted than when I arrived and returned to my car to begin the return journey.
The sun broke through a scattering of gauzy cirrus clouds and dropped warmth across the tree-lined pavement. I guided the car absentmindedly, enjoying the peace and quiet. I passed Beacon’s shadowed drive and continued on toward Ludington.
It was minutes later that I saw him. I don’t know where he came from but suddenly, in the middle of the road was a man. He didn’t move, merely stood as though waiting for the car to reach him. His face was indistinguishable, his clothing dappled by the rapidly moving clouds overhead. He seemed to shimmer like a mirage and I blinked, half-expecting him to disappear.
His appearance was so unexpected I gasped and slammed my foot on the brake. The tires squealed plaintively and the automobile veered to the right and onto the shoulder of the road. My heart pounded furiously and I threw open the door to confront him. But when I looked, he was gone.
I stood by the side of the car and scanned the shrubs and forest on either side. Shadows danced through the woodland recesses and a brisk wind whipped my hair. There was no sign of anyone. Climbing back into the car, I locked the doors and sat for a while, waiting for my hands to steady. The road stretched ahead, a gray ribbon that cut the forest in half.
I began to wonder if I’d seen anything after all or merely conjured the image in my mind. I couldn’t have described the figure that had loomed so suddenly. I couldn’t even be sure now if it was a man or a woman. Perhaps a deer? It was highly unlikely. Deer were often seen along this stretch of highway but very rarely at midday.
I put the car in gear and with one last furtive glance around, continued on my way. I was troubled. Something about the figure in the road was unsettlingly familiar. A flash of déjà vu, yet inexplicably different. I made a mental note to ask David if there were any campers in the woods near Beacon or Spindrift.
* * * * *
Ludington was small in comparison to the better known Michigan cities of Detroit, Lansing, Grand Rapids and Ann Arbor, yet larger than many other coastal towns such as Pentwater, Montague or Whitehall. Many of these little villages were all but deserted during the winter months, catering primarily to summer visitors looking for sun, sand and water. A large percentage of the population lived permanently elsewhere, maintaining holiday homes near the lake which they shut up during the winter.
Ludington, a commercial port for vessels trading the Great Lakes, maintained a less transient populace. This was home to me and I felt secure in the familiarity, enjoying the continual summer stream of cars sporting out-of-state license plates with urban faces pressed against the windows, visitors who seemed to be viewing nature for the first time.
Colin and David’s marina was situated just north of the main street. A tee intersection took my car along the lake road abutting sandy white beaches dotted with playground equipment, tall lifeguard chairs and brick barbecues. About a mile further, rounding the bend that would take me out of the city, was the irregular oak sign announcing Blue Fin Marina. Dangling beneath this sign on heavy chains, smaller signs read Charter Fishing, Pleasure Craft and Canoe Rental, C. Dirkston, D. Lancaster. I turned the car down the short gravel drive and parked in front of a white, weatherboard building labeled “Office”. David appeared at once, smiling a greeting as he opened my door.
“I thought you’d never get here!”
I looked at my watch. “David, I’m a half-hour early.”
He chuckled. “I know, I know. It’s just been so slow this morning. Only one group of canoes and a few bookings for next summer.”
“It’s usually quiet this time of year, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.” He nodded agreeably. “Where would you like to go for lunch?”
“I thought you were working all day. Who’s going to mind the store?”
“Colin’s on his way. He can take over for an hour or so.”
Colin arrived before we had time to go inside, roaring down the drive and making twin furrows in the gravel as he skidded to a halt. I noted with a twinge of annoyance that he drove Leo’s silver Maserati, which seemed somewhat presumptuous of him so soon after the funeral but I didn’t mention it. I didn’t want to start any arguments.
“Hello, Suzanna. If I’d known you were coming here, I’d have gotten a lift with you.”
“I had other errands to do.”
Ignoring his curious look, I turned to David. “Shall we get a couple of sub sandwiches and go down to the beach?”
“Good idea. Just give us a minute and I’ll be right with you.”
He and Colin disappeared into the office and I leaned idly against the car, breathing deeply of the clear, crisp air sweeping in off the lake.
“Got a light, Miz Dirkston?”
The voice was so unexpected that I jumped, dropping my purse so its contents spilled onto the ground. Mike Kensington smiled at me, his eyes slitted against the sun, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. I stooped to pick up my scattered belongings, chiding myself for being so nervous, yet irritated at him for sneaking up on me.
He didn’t bother to help but waited until I stood up.
“About that light?” he persisted.
“Sorry, Mike, I’m trying to quit,” I said, though I knew
he’d seen my lighter and cigarettes among the litter in the gravel. He shrugged and put the cigarette back in its pack, relocating it to a pocket of his blue windbreaker.
He wasn’t an unattractive man. Average in height with black, rumpled hair, his gray-blue eyes were overshadowed by generous black brows and his face, lined from constant squinting, was tanned hickory. He sported an impressive moustache and sideburns, peppered with gray.
“Sorry to hear about Mr. Dirkston. I was pretty shocked myself. Flew him to Chicago just a couple of days before it happened. I never would’ve guessed that…” He stopped, noting my expression. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I said stiffly. Then, feeling guilty for being unreasonable, I added, “It was a shock to all of us.”
I expected him to go but instead he looked at the ground and scuffed the gravel with the heel of his shoe.
“I was wondering if…well…if you know whether you’ll still be needing a pilot?”
The question took me by surprise and I realized with sympathy that he’d probably been on tenterhooks since Leo’s death, not knowing if he still had a job. I gave him a reassuring smile.
“Mr. Fenton will be running the show—for a while at least, until the will has been probated—and he’ll undoubtedly want to keep you on. After that…I can’t say just yet but I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”
He seemed relieved and smiled, breaking his angular face into an interesting pattern of creases and showing a beautiful set of teeth.
“That’s good to hear, Miz Dirkston. Thanks.” He touched a hand to his forehead in salute. “You have a nice day, now,” he said and sauntered off around the building toward the docks just as David reappeared.
“I hope he wasn’t bothering you,” David said, frowning.
“Not at all. He’s just worried about his job. It’s understandable.”
“I already told him you’d be keeping him on the payroll and I’ve put him to work around here too. Guess he wanted to get it straight from the horse’s mouth. By the way, how did it go this morning?”
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