Life Everlasting

by Robert Whitlow

  “Have a seat,” Ezra said. “This is a safe room. We can talk freely here.”

  Rena glanced around. If she’d suffered in the least from claustrophobia, the room would have been intolerable.

  “How are you feeling?” Ezra asked.

  It took Rena a second to remember her fake cold.

  “Uh, much better. I took some vitamin C.” She sat down in a small leather chair. “Does Jeffrey know about this room?”

  “Of course. We meet here all the time.”

  “And Baxter?” she added without thinking.

  “I think he’s been here,” Ezra responded vaguely. “But we need to get down to business. What is going on with Jeffrey?”

  Rena was ready with her speech. “He’s talking with some of the people who buy golf balls made in the Caribbean for ten thousand dollars a dozen.”

  “He told you about that?”

  “Yes, and he’s hired people to watch me ever since Baxter’s accident. He says they’re protecting me, but I think they’re spies. The man who shot the videotape on the day my car was stolen is one of them.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I’m not sure, but he works with a man named Henry Quinton, who is in jail in Charleston.”

  Ezra made a note on a pad in front of him. “Who are some of the other people helping Jeffrey?”

  Rena shook her head. “I don’t know. He gave me a list of companies that my lawyer should mention in any lawsuit filed against you, but there weren’t any names on it.”

  “Where is the list?”

  “At my lawyer’s office.”

  “Lindale?”

  “Yes.”

  Ezra tapped the pad with his pen. “Get it back. And I’d very much like to know the names of Jeffrey’s friends. Find out the next time you talk to him.”

  Rena looked at the floor. “That may not be possible. Jeffrey only tells me what he wants me to know so he can manipulate me.”

  “Tell him Lindale needs to verify the information you’ve given her. I only need one or two names to unravel this web.”

  Rena looked up, entreating him with her eyes. “Would you be willing to send people to watch out for me? If Jeffrey knew that I’m talking to you, there is no telling what he might do to me.”

  “That might tip my hand to Jeffrey. I’d rather he not know what I’m doing.”

  Rena ignored his obvious lack of concern for her safety. “You could set it up to look like they’re working for me. I’ll even pay them, so long as you give me the money.”

  Ezra put his fingers together in front of his face. “That’s an interesting approach. They could monitor the surveillance activity and provide data that might allow us to identify Jeffrey’s contacts.”

  Ezra paused, and Rena waited.

  “Very well,” he said, sitting up straight in his chair. “I’ll do it. But I still want you to send me the list of companies and try to find out who is helping Jeffrey. What you’re telling me fits with a rumor I heard on a trip to the Caribbean a few weeks ago.”

  “Will the people working for you contact me?” Rena asked.

  “Yes, and you’ll pay them. I never get directly involved with things at that level.”

  Ezra’s comment mirrored what Jeffrey had told Rena and slightly unnerved her—father and son, the same.

  “Someone will get in touch with you very soon. You’ll know that he’s working for me because he will bring a work-order for a security system you want to have installed due to break-ins in the neighborhood.”

  Ezra picked up an envelope, which was beside the television, and handed it to Rena.

  She opened it and found a cashier’s check for $250,000 inside. The remitter was a company whose name was unfamiliar to her.

  “What is this company?” she asked.

  Ezra smiled. “One set up especially for you.”

  “How much should I pay the guard?”

  “He’ll tell you. The first thing he’ll do is provide a secure way for you to communicate with me.” Ezra walked to the door and flipped the dead bolt. “Try to find out who is helping Jeffrey. The information will be very valuable to me and you.”

  “Will you be visiting Baxter soon?”

  “Yes,” Ezra replied, his voice lighter. “Isn’t it wonderful that he’s improving? When he is able to function again, I know that the three of us will have a much better relationship.”

  Rena smiled. When she did, she knew it made her eyes sparkle.

  Rena’s cold was bogus. The respiratory infection that entered Baxter’s room on the right index finger of the nurse’s aide was not. It was alive and thriving, ready to leap onto a new host. The young aide wiped her little girl’s nose with a tissue before kissing the child good-bye at a day-care center. She intended to wash her hands as soon as she began her shift, but the nurse on duty needed help as soon as she walked through the door.

  “We need to turn him more frequently,” the nurse said. “I noticed a small sore on the left side of his lower back. That can lead to big trouble. Hold his head steady while I turn his body.”

  While shifting the patient, the aide’s finger touched the corner of Baxter’s mouth. A few seconds later, Baxter licked his lips, and the germs entered his mouth, where they found a warm, moist place to multiply. Within minutes they had migrated to his lungs. Twenty-four hours later, his temperature began to rise. It wasn’t the exotic infection Rena had hoped for, but it was enough to send Baxter in the same direction—off the cliff.

  And this time, Rena had nothing to do with it.

  Alexia and Rena got out of their cars at the Sandy Flats Church.

  “I saw you looking in your rearview mirror a lot,” Alexia said. “Do you think we’re being followed?”

  “Always,” Rena shrugged.

  “Going to a church is probably not a suspicious activity on anybody’s list.”

  They walked up the front steps. When they reached the top, Rena stopped.

  “I haven’t been inside a church in a long time,” she said. “Baxter and I were married at his father’s place on the river.”

  As an associate at Leggitt & Freeman, Alexia had known about the wedding but didn’t receive an invitation. After the event, Ralph Leggitt placed a photograph on his credenza of himself with Ezra standing beside a flower-bedecked gazebo.

  “Until I met Ted, I didn’t attend church either,” Alexia replied.

  “My aunt used to take me, but it wasn’t a happy place for me. The kids in the Sunday-school class never talked to me because I didn’t wear the right kind of clothes.”

  Alexia glanced at Rena’s outfit. Her shoes probably cost more than a prom dress for a local high-school student.

  “You wouldn’t have to be ashamed now,” Alexia said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Every church is the same. All of them are filled with hypocrites.”

  Rena joined Alexia in the narthex. Piano music drifted from the sanctuary. Alexia looked at Rena and put her finger to her lips.

  “Let’s listen for a minute,” she whispered.

  It was Bloch’s Visions and Prophecies. Written in the 1930s, it contained five short movements. Ted was playing the adagio.

  “I can hear,” Rena responded impatiently. “And I don’t have time to waste.”

  The adagio was followed by a very fast poco agitato that lasted less than two minutes. Alexia wanted to hear the rapid section. “It will be over soon.”

  Rena plopped down in a small chair in the narthex and pouted. Her conduct made it hard for Alexia to enjoy the music. Ted stumbled a few times in the closing section.

  “He needs to practice that part,” Alexia said quietly.

  The notes fell silent. Rena stood up. “Let’s see him before he starts something else,” she said.

  When they stepped into the sanctuary, Alexia called out. “Hello! We’re here!”

  Sitting on the piano bench, Ted looked up. “Come to the front. I’ll get a chair.”

  Alexia and Rena w
alked down the aisle and sat on the front pew facing the piano. Ted lifted a chair across the altar rail and positioned it so he could face them. Alexia introduced him to Rena and watched as Ted, his face serious, shook her client’s hand.

  “Thanks for letting me play for your husband,” he said.

  “Whatever you want to do is fine with me,” Rena responded with a flip of her hand. “I’m not a classical music fan like Alexia, so none of it makes sense to me.”

  “I don’t perform music written by a composer when I’m with Baxter.”

  “I’m unfamiliar with all of it,” Rena responded and then quickly added, “and I’m not interested in a classical-music lecture.”

  “Of course, and that’s not why we’re here. Alexia wanted to ask me questions about a conversation I had with Baxter recently at the cottage.”

  “Yes, I know all that.”

  “But first, I wanted to hear from you what happened at the waterfall.”

  Rena looked at Alexia.

  “Ted, can you reassure Rena that our conversation is confidential?”

  “That depends on whether this is a counseling session, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Alexia replied slowly.

  Ted turned toward Rena. “Do you want me to help you?”

  Alexia winced. She’d hoped Ted would disclose his conversation with Baxter without trying to establish a bona fide counseling link with Rena.

  “I need all the help I can get,” Rena responded emphatically. “I’ve had a rough time my whole life, and it didn’t stop when I married Baxter. It all started with my stepfather.”

  Alexia glanced at Rena in surprise. The only unfailing characteristic Rena Richardson possessed was the inability to keep her mouth shut. For the next forty-five minutes, she poured out a tale of woe that would have awakened sympathy in the most hard-hearted person. She didn’t cry, but the subdued way in which she related hardships, beginning with her earliest memories, didn’t diminish their impact. Ted interrupted a couple of times with questions but otherwise gave Rena free rein. Alexia sat on the edge of the pew, constantly ready to pull the plug, but didn’t intervene until her client reached the events at the waterfall.

  “It would be more efficient if I told you what happened, Ted,” Alexia interjected. “It’s hard for Rena to talk about it. It was an accident, but not an unfortunate slip and fall on slick rocks. Baxter tried to push Rena over the edge of the cliff. They fought, and he fell. Is that right, Rena?”

  Rena nodded.

  Ted turned toward Alexia. “Why won’t you let Rena tell me about it?”

  Alexia felt her face flush. “It’s so painful.”

  Ted gave her a skeptical look. “More painful than what she’s already told me? It would be hard to rank the horrible things that have happened to her. They’re all bad.” He looked at Rena. “Would you add anything to what Alexia said about the waterfall?”

  Rena shook her head. “I’ve talked too much already, but you have the kindest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. I felt that I could tell you anything, and you wouldn’t condemn me.”

  Alexia didn’t want Rena to become more bizarre. “We need to move on. Rena has another appointment.” She turned to Ted. “What can you tell us about your conversation with Baxter?”

  “He agrees that there was a fight at the waterfall, so I don’t think there is any difference on that point.” The music minister leaned forward. “But Baxter claims Rena tried to kill him.” Rena’s face grew pale, and her eyes opened wide.

  “What did he say?” Alexia asked. “Be as specific as possible.”

  “Baxter spoke in a whisper and told me it was Rena’s fault that he fell. I asked him how, and he told me there was a fight at a waterfall, and she pushed him over the edge of the cliff.”

  “That’s not what he told Alexia!” Rena blurted out. “And we have it on tape! There was a fight alright, but he was the one who tried to push me over the edge!”

  “What else did he say?” Alexia asked, trying to remain calm.

  “Nothing. I realize he’s coming out of a coma and might say things that don’t make sense or be correct, and I obviously wasn’t at the waterfall and don’t know what happened. That’s why I wanted to find out what Rena had to say. I’d hoped there wasn’t a fight at all and we could chalk the whole thing up to delusion. But after hearing her . . .” he stopped.

  Alexia seized the opening. “Ted, you’ve heard about Rena’s past. Trouble has stalked her since she was a little girl. This is another chapter in the same story.”

  “I’m not saying that I believe Baxter, but you can understand why I’m concerned.”

  “Of course, and what happened to Baxter is a tragedy. But it would be a worse tragedy for Rena to come under suspicion for something that he did to her.”

  Ted looked toward Rena. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Rena glanced at Alexia, who decided to scuttle Sean’s advice.

  “Go ahead,” Alexia said.

  Rena repeated the story she’d told Alexia. Ted didn’t take his eyes off her. Several times, Rena glanced sideways at the lawyer for encouragement. Once, Alexia reached across and lightly patted her on the shoulder.

  When she finished, Ted ran his hand through his hair. “I needed to hear what happened from your lips. Baxter is so completely helpless that I never considered what he might be like as a man and husband.”

  “I’ve told you everything,” Rena said, leaning back against the pew. “You can ask me anything, and I’ll tell you the truth.”

  “No, I’ve heard enough.” He looked at Alexia. “What else?”

  “The more I learn, the more I believe Rena that the Richardsons are involved in something illegal and they want it kept secret.”

  “So you believe her?”

  “Yes, I do. And you?”

  Ted got up and walked to the piano. He hit a few notes and then spoke to Alexia. “Yes. I’ll keep everything we’ve discussed confidential.”

  “When are you going to see Baxter?” Alexia asked.

  Ted glanced down at the floor and shook his head. “I’m not sure that I will.”

  35

  Tell the truth or trump—but get the trick.

  MARK TWAIN

  Giles Porter finished the slow process of transcribing his conversation with Baxter Richardson. He relied on his memory, not a tape recorder, to recall what was said. His verbatim recollection wouldn’t be admissible in court, but it was more than adequate for investigative purposes. He pushed the print button and waited patiently for the three pages to inch out of the ancient printer connected to his computer. He slipped the sheets in a folder and glanced at his calendar. It would take a full day to return to Double Barrel Falls and half a day to talk to the trauma-unit doctor at the Mitchell County Hospital.

  When Rena arrived home, a white van with “East Shore Co.” neatly painted on its side was parked in front of her house. She couldn’t see through the van’s tinted windows whether anyone was sitting in it. She entered the house by a side door. Less than a minute later, the doorbell chimed. Going into the foyer, she could see a skinny young man standing on the front landing. He adjusted the white cap on his head. She opened the door.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  The young man shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m here to install a security system for Mrs. Baxter Richardson.”

  Rena looked again at the tall young man, who stared back at her with brown eyes that revealed nothing. Rena noticed the blemishes on his cheeks. He held a tool kit in his left hand. A patch on his shirt identified him as “Rudy.”

  “Can I please see the work order?” she asked.

  “Yes ma’am.” He handed her a folded sheet of paper, which Rena took and examined. It was blank. “There have been a lot of break-ins in the neighborhood. You can’t be too careful these days.”

  Rudy had definitely been sent by Ezra. But the package didn’t fit her expectations.

  �
�Is this an inconvenient time?” the young man asked.

  “No,” Rena said. “Come inside.”

  The young man stepped into the foyer. As soon as Rena closed the door, he dropped to his knees and opened the tool kit. It didn’t contain a single pair of pliers. Instead, it was filled with electronic gadgetry. He flipped two switches on a box that looked like a walkie-talkie before he spoke.

  “This will jam any attempts to eavesdrop within a ten foot radius,”

  Rena peered over his shoulder. He took out a cell phone and handed it to her.

  “Use this phone after you turn on the unit.”

  “How do I turn it on?”

  The man showed her what to do. “It’s very simple.”

  “What about video surveillance?”

  “I’m going to check the house. I won’t disturb anything, but I’ll let you know what is safe and what is not secure.”

  “What should I do?”

  The young man smiled with a glint in his eyes that caused Rena to reevaluate his apparent innocence.

  “Do whatever you would do if a worker came in to tinker with your house.”

  Rena retreated to the kitchen. She could hear the man moving through the house, moving furniture in one of the bedrooms upstairs, walking down the hallway. Anxiety overtook her. What if he was planting bugs, not finding them? She quickly climbed the stairs. He was in her bedroom looking up at the light in the middle of the room. He spoke when she entered the room.

  “I know security in this room is important, Ms. Richardson. We can install sensors on all the windows as well as under the carpet on the stairs leading to the second floor.”

  Rena stared at him for a second and then abruptly turned around and returned to the kitchen. She poured a drink of whiskey and fidgeted for thirty minutes before he reappeared. Taking a small handheld device from his pocket, he walked around the room, moving his hand from side to side. After two thorough sweeps, he slipped the device back into this pocket.

  “You keep a nice, clean house, but you could use an exterminator in a couple of rooms. There’s a mic in your bedroom, and a mic with camera in the living room.”

  “Can we talk in here without using the jamming device?” Rena whispered.