Never Kissed Goodnight

by Edie Claire

  "Did something else happen?" Leigh asked quickly.

  "No, dear, we're all fine. But Maura said that Mason had contacted you again, and that she had further information she wanted to deliver to all of us at one time. So can you—"

  "We'll be there in ten minutes," Leigh declared.

  ***

  Maura had not yet arrived, and once everyone had given Warren their congratulations, the mood in the farmhouse quickly deteriorated. Cara fluttered about trying to serve drinks that no one wanted, Gil sat at the dining room table brooding over the PI's file, Lydie stood motionless looking out a kitchen window, and Frances was on all fours in the living room, wiping the baseboards with a napkin. Leigh's father, of course, had been away at the animal clinic since dawn.

  Warren politely took a cup of coffee from Cara, then accepted Mathias's tacit invitation to help throw cardboard blocks through the window of his plastic play castle. Leigh stayed in the living room. She hadn’t yet confronted her aunt about the bombshell Mrs. Snodgrass had dropped the day before; she wanted answers, but since the jetlagged Lydie had been hit with everything from blackmail to kidnapping to breaking and entering within an hour of her return to Pittsburgh, Leigh was willing to cut her a break. Her mother was another matter.

  "Aren't you supposed to be back at work today, dear?" The sound came from somewhere in the vicinity of Frances's rear end, which was bobbing up and down between the wall and the couch. "I called Hook first, but they told me they didn't expect you until tomorrow."

  "I've been planning for months to take yesterday and today off," Leigh explained, "because of the election." That her daughter would be sacked from a job because of truancy was one of her mother's greatest fears in life—and though the advertising field had indeed proven good for several sackings, none, Leigh was proud to point out, had anything to do with not showing up for work. The fact that she was now her own boss and couldn't be fired in any event had done little to stem Frances's phobia. Neither did her mother's own stated view that a married woman should concentrate more on the house anyway.

  "Mom," Leigh began quietly, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one else was in earshot. "How much did Lydie tell Cara?"

  Frances's rump immediately disappeared, and her top half emerged. She eyed her daughter warily, lips pursed. "She told me that she explained about the bank robbery, and how she had asked Mason to leave. She tried to make Cara understand that it was for her own good. I think it went all right." Her torso vanished again.

  Mrs. Snodgrass's words rang in Leigh's ears again, and she cleared her throat. "Lydie didn't seem too surprised when Mason called the house yesterday," she said suggestively.

  The bobbing rump stilled. "Cara has a cleaning woman now, doesn’t she? She really should check up on their work more closely. Just look at how much gunk I've got off this—"

  "Mom," Leigh interrupted. "I know there's more to the story than you've told me. Mason didn't take off without a backward glance, did he? He's been back—more than once. He came to see Cara."

  Frances's head reappeared. Her face was puckered into a defensive frown, but her eyes showed alarm. "Mason Dublin would say anything to get what he wants," she retorted quietly. "He's a shyster, a confidence man. What nonsense has he been telling you?"

  Leigh surveyed her mother's face carefully. So it was true. "Mason didn't tell me much of anything," she said honestly. "Mrs. Snodgrass mentioned that she would recognize Mason if she saw him. She didn't know it was a secret that he used to come around the house—I suppose she thought that you and Lydie would level with us when we grew up."

  Frances's face paled. She looked at her daughter regretfully for a moment, then shuffled around to the front of the couch and sat down with a plop. "Well, I always thought we should have," she said with a sigh. "Lydie planned on telling Cara the truth eventually, as soon as she became mature enough to handle it. But when she turned eighteen Mason was in jail, and what good would it do to tell her then? Of course, the years kept going by, and then Cara was married and happy, and seemed so settled that Lydie couldn't bear to rock the boat."

  Leigh found herself biting her lip. She wanted to be furious, but she was determined not to personalize this whole mess. What mattered was Cara. She could understand Lydie's desire for her daughter not to grow up stigmatized as the child of a criminal. But what she grew up with instead was the pain of believing that her own father had turned his back on her. Forever. No visits, no calls, no birthday or Christmas presents, not even a postcard. No questions asked. Not a single thought in her direction. Which was worse?

  "I'm not criticizing Lydie's decisions in the past," she said stiffly. "But as of now, I do think Cara has a right to know the whole truth. And if Lydie wants to be the one to tell her, she'd better do it soon—before Maura gets any further on this investigation."

  She looked again at the doors to the parlor, making certain they weren't being overheard, then sat down beside her mother. "So, what is the truth? How much contact has Lydie had with Mason over the years? Did he want a relationship with his daughter, or didn’t he?"

  Frances opened her mouth to answer, but before she got any words out, Lydie appeared in the kitchen doorway, her face drawn and pale.

  "Leigh," she said unsteadily, coming into the room. "Could I talk to you a minute?"

  Leigh nodded, and Frances scuttled off murmuring something about dusty window blinds. Lydie took over the spot her sister had left on the couch, and began talking with one eye aimed warily toward the kitchen.

  "I, um—I know you've already heard a lot of the story about how my marriage ended. But I just wanted to make sure you understand why I did what I did."

  Leigh looked at the sweet, hard-working aunt she had adored her whole life. Lydie looked tired. Bone tired. "You don't owe me any explanation," Leigh said softly.

  "No," Lydie insisted, "but you're getting one anyway. You grew up being kept in the dark along with Cara, and there's a reason for that."

  She took a deep breath. Leigh waited.

  "Mason Dublin isn't an evil person," she began. Her voice was firm, but it was evident from the tremble in her lower jaw that speaking on the subject at all was akin to walking on hot coals. "But he's trouble. And he always will be. After the robbery, I finally accepted that. This whole business now just proves it." She paused a moment, then looked at her niece closely. "You've met him, you've talked to him; you know how he is."

  Leigh wasn't sure she knew what her aunt meant.

  "He's charming," Lydie explained, her face hard. "He's got that million-dollar smile, and he's always ready with the wisecracks. He has a way of making you want to trust him. You felt that, didn't you?"

  Leigh shrugged, not sure what she should say.

  Her aunt nodded. "You're a natural skeptic, Leigh, just like your mother. She never did trust Mason. He worked on her—hard—and eventually she did come to like him, though she still won't admit it. But back then I was too naïve, too trusting. I only wanted to see the good in him. And Cara's worse than I am. I knew when she was little that if he ever got to her she would love and trust him immediately—and then he would hurt and disappoint her, too. Over and over again." She paused a moment, and Leigh couldn't help but notice that her self-confident, capable aunt had aged at least a decade since her return from India.

  "It's a powerful pain to be let down so much by someone you love," she said quietly. "I never wanted Cara to go through that. That's why I told her that he had left with another woman before she was born. I didn't want her to feel that she'd been personally abandoned, but I didn't want her to fantasize about him being some kind of hero, either."

  "She did anyway," Leigh said automatically, wishing immediately that she hadn’t. "We both did."

  Lydie nodded. "I know. I was wrong to think that I could keep Cara from thinking about him at all. It was foolish. But I didn't know what else to do."

  Leigh swallowed. "So you asked him to leave, and never come back."

  "Yes."r />
  "But he did come back."

  Lydie looked up, her pupils wide, and Leigh explained quickly. "Mrs. Snodgrass mentioned it. It wasn't her fault—she thought we knew."

  A deep sigh escaped Lydie's lips, and it was a moment before she spoke again. "That was the worst part," she began softly. "Letting Cara believe he'd never even laid eyes on her. He was there at the hospital when she was born. He came around all the time, for a while. You've never seen a prouder man." Her face smiled a little, then just as quickly clouded over. "But I yelled and I screamed. And finally I convinced him that the best thing he could do for her was to stay out of her life for good."

  "But he didn't, did he?" Leigh prompted. "He still came around to see her every once a while, he just did it on the sly. He didn't let her see him, and he didn't want you to see him."

  Lydie nodded. "If it weren't for Mrs. Snodgrass, I might never have known. But he came around at least a couple times a year. And he called me to ask about her. Of course, he never admitted to the visits."

  Leigh felt numb. Mason visited; Mason called. And all the time Cara was so desperate for information…she never even knew what he looked like. Now Leigh could understand why.

  "Do you remember when Cara played Elizabeth in The Homecoming?" Lydie asked suddenly.

  Leigh nodded. She remembered well that Christmas at the Red Barn Theater, when her Aunt Bess had sprayed her beehive gray to serve "the recipe" as Mamie Baldwin. Leigh and Cara had both auditioned for children's parts, and though she had her heart set on the part of Erin, the casting director had stuck to redheads. Leigh still hadn't gotten over it.

  "Mason was there," Lydie continued. "I saw him in the audience. I never knew how he found about the play, but he did. I went to confront him after, but of course he took off before I could catch up to him." She paused again. "He's good at that."

  Leigh sat still, disbelieving. How many times had Cara been in the same room with him? Had he ever tried to talk to her? Would she even remember?

  "But when Cara was a teenager, he was convicted for the counterfeiting," Lydie continued somberly. "He went away for a long time, then. He missed her high school graduation and college, too. I've no doubt he would have been there if he could, no matter what I said. When he finally did get out of prison, she was working in New York City. Whether he ever tried to visit her there, I don't know."

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Finally Leigh asked another question, her voice more of a croak. "Did you worry that he would tell her who he was?"

  Lydie shook her head. "No. He agreed with me when she was a baby that she was better off without him. He wasn't capable of staying out of trouble—he still isn't. The reason I never wanted him anywhere around her was because I knew if she ever caught a glimpse of him she would recognize him. They look so much alike. But he promised me he would never interfere with her, and as far as I know, he kept his word."

  Her eyes turned wistful. "At the beginning, I used to think that maybe someday he would change. That he'd be happy living like an ordinary man with a little steady money and no big deals on the horizon. But then I realized he was never going to change. He was born to be discontent, always reaching for that next star. He's not the type to hurt people, mind you, but he's got no respect whatsoever for the law." She sighed again. "He's a fool, plain and simple. And I was a fool to marry him in the first place."

  "No, you weren't," Leigh said quickly. She believed her own words, but at the moment she was hard pressed to understand why, much less to defend the statement. She looked away and suddenly realized that the pieces of at least one of the puzzles in her head were starting to fall into place.

  "So you and Mason have been in contact on a fairly regular basis all along," she stated.

  Her aunt nodded. "More or less. He always kept up with what Cara was doing."

  "But when she got married… You didn't tell him, did you?"

  Lydie's eyes turned guilty, but resolute. "No," she admitted. "No, I didn't. It wasn't right of me, perhaps, but I didn't want him there. He would have tried to stay out of sight, but even if Cara didn't notice the resemblance, someone else certainly would have. With all the family around—" she shook her head. "I just couldn't have him there. He could have ruined the wedding, everything."

  Leigh had to admit her aunt had a point. "So you told him after the fact?"

  "Yes."

  "And when Mathias was born?"

  Lydie squirmed a bit, but remained defensive. "How could I take a chance on his ruining the happiest days of Cara's life? No, I didn't tell him she was expecting. But I would have told him about Mathias eventually."

  "But Trudy got to him first."

  Lydie's lips pursed. "Yes, and as I suppose you already know, Mason was furious with me. He got even more furious when I refused to let him see the baby."

  Leigh's eyebrows rose. "He wanted to see Mathias?"

  "He would have been on the next bus, if I'd cooperated. He had this idea that he would sneak over while I was babysitting. But I couldn't do that—it just didn’t seem right. It wasn't fair to Cara, and Mathias certainly wouldn't benefit."

  Leigh took a deep breath. It was all making sense now. Mason's anger at Lydie, his imbibing a little too much and spouting off to his drinking buddies. His ex-wife thought she was so high and mighty, did she? Well, he happened to know that she had committed a crime, too. And he could get her put away for it—or at least get some money out of the slimeball who had stolen his only daughter...

  Frances jumped suddenly through the doorway, practically convoluting herself to precede Cara into the room. "Well, look—they're both in here!" she said loudly.

  Cara threw her aunt an odd, sideways look and floated into the room with Mathias on her hip. Her face was drained and tight, much like her mothers. But where Lydie's features showed anxiety, Cara's were laden with pain. She looked briefly at Leigh and her mother, then, perhaps recognizing the guilty looks on their faces, turned away. "Maura is here," she announced flatly. "Perhaps we should all move into the dining room."

  Chapter 20

  Detective Maura Polanski was all business when she took a seat at the March's dining room table, notebook and binder firmly in hand. She refused Cara's offer of hot spiced cider and simply started talking.

  "First off," she began, "I'd like to assure everyone who didn't already know that our kidnapping suspect, William Gordon, is now dead. I just got off the phone with a detective down there, and he's eighty-five percent sure that this Gordy fellow was taken out by loan sharks. Apparently he had overextended himself at the dog track one too many times. The blackmail scheme was probably his one last hope, and when Gil called his bluff, he got desperate. After the kidnapping went sour he gave up and took a train back home. He should have gone someplace else."

  "What about the second blackmailer?" Gil asked, his jaw tight. Perhaps someone else could feel bad about Gordy's untimely death, but it was clear no tears would be shed at the March table.

  Maura shook her head. "Don't know for sure, but the detective did have a good candidate for us. Young guy named Sammy Jones, a regular at the Brindle Blur, the bar where Mason worked. He's been run in on petty theft, but that's about it. If he's our man, I don't think you need to lose sleep over him—the blackmail was probably more of a lark than anything. He could follow up with another letter or a call, but he knows he's got nothing. Odds are he'll move on."

  Gil nodded solemnly. He looked like he was going to say something else, then he stopped himself. Leigh felt a pang of sympathy. They all realized now that it was Cara's appearance on the Movers and Shakers show that had started the whole blackmail cascade in action. Gordy and Sammy might have picked up the blackmail idea from Mason, but they could never have acted on it without knowing where the principals lived. Tracking down a Cara and a Lydie who might or might not still be named Dublin was hardly worth the effort, but with the information dumped right into their laps, the temptation had proved too great.

  Leigh's eye
s moved from Gil to Cara, who had been staring blankly at her own full cup of cider. There was certainly no point in berating her about it now.

  "What's of greater importance," Maura continued heavily, "is the issue of Mason Dublin's reappearance in Pittsburgh, and all that's happened since. Nothing's for sure here, but I'll give you my take on it. After Mason had served his counterfeiting sentence at the Federal penitentiary, he settled down to an ordinary life, of sorts, with the bartending job in southern Alabama. Didn't commit a single other offence, as far as we know. Then, six months ago, he up and disappears, apparently to hide out from a career criminal named Torrence Bagley." She pulled a fax out of her binder and held it out toward Leigh's mother. "Mrs. Koslow, do you recognize this man?"

  Frances leaned over the table and tilted up her head to see out of her bifocals. "Oh, dear," she muttered. "I couldn't swear that was the shooter, but it certainly could be."

  Maura turned the picture so that everyone could see it, and Leigh shrank back a little. The man didn't look in the least familiar, though he could have made an appearance in a nightmare or two. He was six-foot-three, according to the ticks on the wall behind him, with another inch in greasy, mussed black hair. His angry, dark eyes were set in a gaunt face with a large, thin nose and angular jaw. Large, full lips framed his mouth and then some. If he were trying to look like a criminal, he couldn't have done a better job. But then, Leigh supposed no one looked their best in a mug shot. Her own were certainly not scrapbook material.

  "Take a good look," Maura encouraged, "because this man is someone to watch out for." She consulted her notebook. "He has a long history of arrests for receiving stolen goods and illegal sale of arms; he's also suspected to have been involved in weapons smuggling, but no convictions there. A few assault charges, again, no convictions. And he's under suspicion in at least one open murder investigation."