by Laini Giles
“What is your name, sir?” David asked.
“Why, Smith’s the name. Lafayette Smith!” The man held out a large paw for David to shake. “I’d be mighty pleased to offer you a position, Mr.—”
“Lawrence. David Lawrence. And I would be most pleased to accept, sir,” David said.
“Lafe! Call me Lafe!” the big man insisted, lighting his pipe.
David had to admit things were looking up already.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Harvard, Illinois
1986
Frank had watched the old man’s tale unfold, and he knew from the emotion that it had stirred up that he was telling the truth. Libbie had made the mistake of picking Tom as her unwilling abortionist.
Tears still oozing slowly down his cheeks, the old man grabbed Frank’s hand and said, “I’ve wanted to tell someone for so long. I never meant it to happen. God, I loved her. We were going run away to Cortland to be married at last, the most beautiful girl in town and me. Can you imagine? But then at the last minute, she told me that she wouldn’t do it. That she would never wed a poor man. I think she imagined she would end up like the mother in that book, marrying below her station. She told me she would never have a bunch of babies and live in poverty…” His voice faded off.
Frank pulled his hand away in disgust and watched the old man’s face as he spoke.
“I was so frightened after it happened. I wasn’t even that scared during the war when the Hun came up over the top of that trench and shoved the blade into my shoulder. But I was so afraid…of no one believing me, of going to the chair at Auburn. Of Della and her whole family being shamed by what I had done. I couldn’t let Libbie keep laughing at me after the way she treated me. She teased me, saying I wasn’t a man, that I was poor, that I was a coward…belittling me. She was evil, Investigator Conley. She was so casual about playing with people’s emotions. It was like nothing to her. Like squashing a fly.
“She used me for sex, and then when she knew she was going to have to start looking to marry some respectable man with money, she was going to dump me. But she had this little complication pop up first. And then with Jimmy—I never meant that to happen. I loved Jimmy. For so much of my life, he was like a brother to me. But he was going to blackmail me. How could I live like that? I thought he was my friend, but I had no idea he hated me so much. I refused to go to jail for those two on top of everything else, but now I suppose that’s where I’ll be. And I deserve it.” He let out a sigh of relief.
“Yes, you do,” Frank said quietly. He wanted to tell Tom how his behavior had changed Maude’s life—how it had destroyed a family—but the man was trapped in his own hell anyway. And Frank needed to keep his objectivity at all costs.
“Frankly, any change of scenery would be a relief after looking at these awful walls for ten years,” the old man said, “even if they do have bars on them. But the joke’s on you, son. I doubt my body will even last for the trip back to New York.” Another violent paroxysm overtook him, and he shook with his coughs until he was able to tame them.
“I need to go make a phone call,” Frank said. “Don’t get any bright ideas.”
The old man nodded as he watched Frank leave the room.
Willowbrook Manor, Harvard, Illinois
October 1986
Once he reached the nurses’ alcove around the corner from the old man’s room, Frank used his official phone card to put in a call to Linda.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey, me. You still in Chicago?”
“Just outside. We found him. You and me. He’s still alive at some nursing home here, and he’s been living as David Lawrence for the last seventy years. Libbie was pregnant and wanted him to give her an abortion. It ended up killing her.” Frank took a deep breath. “Do you remember Russ talking about some friend of his? Jimmy something?”
“Yeah, Jimmy Devenport. He drowned around the time Libbie disappeared.”
“No, he didn’t. Estabrook killed him.”
“Oh my God!”
Frank recapped everything the old man had related to him. “Linda, do you remember anything else about Devenport? This is my curiosity talking now, not even my cop sense.”
“From what I remember, Jimmy had a head injury of some sort when they found him. I think the medical examiner at the time thought he might have hit his head on something and fell in. He was fully clothed, so they knew he wasn’t swimming. He had a history with the bottle, like his father, so they just figured he’d been drinking. They found his horse hooked up to the family’s buckboard somewhere between Ithaca and Newfield heading toward their farm, so nobody was completely sure.”
“Well, we know now.”
“When will you be home?”
“I’m heading to the airport as soon as I can. I’ll try to get the first flight available.”
“What about the killer?”
“We have a helluva tale to tell when we’re ready to finish that book. I have to see to some extradition matters, then I can head back.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. I’ll call you when I get home.”
Willowbrook Manor, Harvard, Illinois
October 1986
After Frank left the room, the old man pushed his wheelchair over to a small cheap bureau near his bed. He opened the drawer, recoiling at the odor of mothballs that assaulted him. Then he pulled out an old Robusto cigar box that held what was left of his few possessions. Reaching past the obituary for his wife, an old boutonniere from their wedding, their marriage announcement, several pictures of her during their courting days in Chicago, and a few contraband Three Musketeers bars smuggled in by an orderly, he came to another photograph. Taking it from the box, he held it in front of him for a few moments, still marveling that any human being could be that beautiful. Libbie’s haunting face glanced back at him from her sepia-toned world.
“Well, you finally won,” he told her.
After seventy years of running from the past, his weakened heart had had enough.
When Frank returned to the room fifteen minutes later, Tom Estabrook still sat in his wheelchair, clutching the photograph, and he was turning cold.
Ithaca, New York
October 1986
Frank approached the metal bed and the frail figure in it. Diana stopped him before he got all the way to her side.
“She’s been asking for you. Seth thinks she’s been waiting for you to get here.”
He took his mother’s hand and stroked it, letting her know that he was there. She gazed up at him, the tube down her throat prohibiting her from speaking. Near the bed, Diana and Seth stood with their children.
Shannon approached the bed as well. Her mother stood back a bit, not wanting to intrude in a private family moment, since she was no longer a member. But she had always been close to Maude during her marriage to Frank, so she wanted to be there.
“I’m here, Mom,” Frank said. “I got him. It was Tom. I found him in Chicago, living under an assumed name. He confessed. Everything’s fine now. Libbie would have forgiven you for all you said. You know that.”
The relief in her eyes was unmistakable.
He leaned down a little closer to her and whispered, “I haven’t had a drop in weeks. I promise.”
It was hard for her to smile with the awkward tube there, but he could still see the joy radiating from the shrunken body.
Maude looked up at her children, her eyes bright with realization. When she knew that it was safe to go, she let herself drift away. Frank stood holding her hand for a long time afterwards.
Linda sat in the hallway, nursing a cup of water, waiting for the family to regroup after conferring with the doctor for funeral preparations.
Frank joined her there, and they sat together for a moment, sil
ently holding hands. After a few minutes, Shannon came and sat down with them.
“Hi, Linda,” she said, holding up her hand in greeting.
“Hi, Shannon. I’m very sorry about your grandma.”
“Thanks. I’ll be all right, I guess. I…um…I’m glad you’re going out with my dad.”
“Me too,” Linda said, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “Your dad’s a good guy.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Shannon looked up at him with an expression he’d never seen from her before and was nervous about labeling. It frightened him a little, but he wanted to call it pride.
Shannon leaned over to him and whispered in his ear.
“That sounds like a good idea. Why don’t you ask her?”
He could tell she was self-conscious when she turned to Linda and said, “Dad and I were thinking about going to Purity’s for an ice cream. Can you come?”
“I’d love to,” Linda said.
As they headed across the parking lot to the car, Frank turned to Linda with a sudden thought.
“Hey, do you like cats?”
THE END
Acknowledgements
My husband Allan, who tolerates my binge and purge housekeeping, provides brilliant one-liners, and often makes my sides hurt from laughing. Everyone should have a combination muse/best friend like mine.
My editor, Ella Kennen, who turned this from a good book into a great one.
All my buds at the Absolute Write forum, for their support and camaraderie over the years. You guys are the best!
Kelly Shorten for her beautiful artwork.
Melanie Franklin and Sally Good, beta readers extraordinaire. Melanie found huge kinks that could have been problematic, and Sally is the world’s greatest cheerleader.
Sergeant Stephen Long of the New York State Police in Ithaca, who patiently answered my questions about cars, weaponry, investigations, and their local barracks.
Alan Chaffee, for giving me a tour of Newfield, showing me my GGG grandfather’s house, the cemetery where my forebears are buried, and giving me great inspiration for Russ.
Bill Chaisson, who provided some fascinating local insight.
McLallen House B & B in Trumansburg, which made an excellent stand-in for Diana’s house.
The patient, friendly folks at Starbucks Kingsway, who put up with me camping for hours on end, and even threw in a couple free lattes.