"The deal. The merger. Our shares will vest the second we sign,” Leann squealed.
"Wonderful!” Willa's heart fluttered at the news.
"I wish we could have let you invest, but a friend lost a considerable amount of money and we've made it a policy not to do business with friends."
Willa's hand shot to her mouth, “I certainly wasn't hinting. Please don't think that for a minute."
"And you're already very well-off."
"Well, I'm all right, I guess. I have a fair-sized trust from my parents, what was left over after Daddy lost the business, and my teacher's pension, of course."
"We knew you'd understand,” Leann said.
Willa said, “I more than understand. I insist it's time for that celebration dinner."
"Oh, you're something,” Leann said. “Isn't she, Cliff?"
"Celebration dinner? Pretty hard to turn down."
"I know my way around the kitchen,” Willa said, modestly.
"We'll bring the wine. And the flowers,” Leann said.
"Don't argue with this little lady,” Cliff said.
"Oh you,” Leann chortled.
* * * *
Kelly ran into Miss Bennington in the wine section of the liquor store. Her hair was different and she wore a bright coral scarf and gloves. She was glowing. Or maybe she was just hot in that woolly coat.
She said. “I'm picking up a special rosé for a celebration. I hope this one will do."
Trudy would have had a word or two for this new hair colour, Kelly thought. Champagne, perhaps, or silver wheat, or possibly pale amber. How many men would even know such things? As usual he felt grateful for the way Trudy had broadened his horizons.
He blurted out, “Don't be offended, but you'd be a first-rate target for them."
He'd never heard her laugh before. It was a good laugh, full and confident. “Don't worry about me, Detective Kelly. I'm a very good judge of character."
He wished he shared her confidence. But of course, he knew better. “These days, you have to be careful."
She sighed. “You know, I'm afraid that job of yours has stolen every bit of joy from your life."
Kelly could scarcely imagine the words joy and life together in a sentence. “Yeah, well. For sure, it can get a person down."
"Then enjoy retirement."
She reached forward and patted his hand, just the whisper of a touch.
He said a bit louder than he intended, “Promise you'll call me if . . . “
He watched her hurry off. He stood alone for fifteen minutes, concentrating on that touch, before he lumbered over to Casey's Bar for a solitary beer.
* * * *
The dinner party was not to be. Willa found herself tearful and fighting for breath. The truth was she couldn't bear anyone but Molly and Arnold at her table, not even Leann and Cliff and her grand plan. She left a blurted apology on their answering machine.
Two days later, she did her best to convey regret and embarrassment in a handwritten note. She explained about the chronic pain from her hip, and how it could overwhelm and depress her. She'd felt too humiliated to face them after their amazing generosity. Although she was unused to being furtive, Willa deposited the note in their mailbox and limped back to her car.
* * * *
Some guys retired and headed straight for Florida, but Kelly could never leave the river behind. His childhood memories featured skinny-dipping in the summers, pickup hockey in the winter, and later, stretching out with Tildy on the shaded bank when they were going steady.
Kelly loved the spring thaw best. The crack of the ice slabs, the wild rush of water, the spray in the air, the smell of promises. Florida was only Florida.
Two days to go before retirement. Kelly staked out a riverside bench just across the pedestrian bridge from Main Street and the coffee shop he and Jameson and the guys had frequented for thirty-five years. He'd already noticed a couple of birds in the Manitoba maples by the shore.
* * * *
Leann was knocking, ringing, shouting, “Are you all right? Please, Willa."
Leann was persistent. Willa knew that from the messages on her answering machine. Later, she found a return note in her mailbox.
—
Darling Willa,
Don't worry about the dinner party! We will find many ways to spend time together. Once your hip gets fixed, you'll be like new again! Let us help.
Please do not blame yourself.
This has been a very difficult time.
Much love, Leann and Cliff.
—
The next morning, Willa picked up the phone. Leann and Cliff were joyous and forgiving. Nothing would do but dinner at Figueroa's. Their treat and don't argue, little lady.
"I'll meet you there,” Willa said.
* * * *
Kelly purchased a pair of Bushnell binoculars and The Vest Pocket Guide to Birds of The Northeast. He selected waterproof boots and a hooded Gore-Tex jacket from the outfitters. He stationed himself on the bench by the river. Tildy had pictured the two of them rising before dawn to creep through misty woods in search of rare birds but Kelly couldn't see the point of the woods without Tildy's company. Since he knew maybe a dozen birds, it would be awhile before he'd run out of local specimens. Already he'd spotted some starlings, a crow, and several flocks of bossy little sparrows. His first day of retirement was passing passably.
That evening Willa arrived at Figueroa's wearing black silk and six strands of her grandmother's pearls. She dropped her beaded bag in surprise when she saw Leann and Cliff. Leann's deep brown eyes were rimmed in red, her mascara smudged, and her blush streaked with tear tracks. Cliff, wan and shocked, forgot to stand when Willa arrived.
Luckily, they were tucked into one of Figueroa's high-backed, curved, and upholstered banquettes, famous places for striking deals. Leann repaired her makeup discreetly. Cliff beckoned to the waiter to top up their Shiraz, although it did not appear that this would turn out to be a night of celebration after all.
"Disaster.” Leann ran her hand over her exhausted face when the waiter stepped away.
Willa asked, “What happened?"
Cliff said, “We have a small problem with our liquidity, and a hostile bid from another party to take over the project."
"For the sake of five days,” Leann moaned. Willa thought she would dissolve into tears again.
"Gotta get a grip, hon.” Cliff said, “Remember, easy come, easy go."
"I am not up on high finance so I don't understand how that's possible.” This time, Willa didn't worry about the tremor in her voice.
Cliff said, “Well, hon, our bridge funding's threatened because the CEO of the company we're dealing with had a heart attack and his people are insisting on time for due diligence. No one is taking chances in this economy. If we can't get everything settled before Monday, the competition can squeeze in our place."
Leann whispered, “It's like being robbed at gunpoint."
"We've cashed out everything we can.” Cliff patted his suitcase. He flipped it open and Willa's eyes widened at the stack of bills. “But it's not enough. We don't have time to sell any of the properties."
"Bastards,” Willa spat.
Leann's square jaw dropped.
Willa said, “It's true! I've heard about such people."
Cliff said, “The thing is, unless Santa Claus brings us five hundred thousand dollars before Friday, we're toast. We'll lose the two million we have invested."
"There is no Santa.” Leann tipped the tail end of the Shiraz into Willa's glass.
"Five hundred thousand dollars. Goodness,” Willa said, taking a bigger gulp of wine than she was used to. “That's almost as much as I have to keep me going for the rest of my life. Not counting the house, of course."
"The crazy thing is we have the money, tied up in the other company. Just can't get at it in time.” Cliff hung his head.
Leann reached over and squeezed both his hands.
Willa said, “Do
es it have to be cash?"
"Afraid so,” Cliff smiled sadly.
Leann's eyes were swimming again. “We still have each other, our health."
Willa said, “Oh yes, and we must never forget the value of love and friendship."
Cliff hoisted his glass, “To friends."
"Let me help you,” Willa said.
Leann protested, “No, no, Willa, we're not looking for help. We're only crying on your sweet shoulder."
Willa raised her hand firmly. “I can get my hands on some. Not five hundred thousand, but maybe three."
Leann hesitated. “Cliff, if we take a second mortage on the house, combined with Willa's money, could we manage?"
"No go, hon. Too risky for Willa."
Willa said, “You put everything you have into it. Surely, you wouldn't do that if you believed you were risking your future."
Leann said, “We'd never forgive ourselves if . . . “
"What are the chances?” Willa raised her small pointed chin.
"Infinitesimal but . . . “ Leann wavered.
Cliff interrupted. “Sorry, Willa, but we gotta say no."
"I insist. In my heart of hearts, I know it's right. And you are not to feel guilty. I will charge you one hell of an interest rate for the four days."
It took the longest time to wear them down, especially Cliff. Willa tried various appeals over soup, a very good pear and squash with ginger, and the mahi-mahi with a fragrant, mysterious sauce. They finally agreed during the chocolate pié with creme anglaise and raspberries. Willa decided to toast with Veuve Clicquot, her treat, a bit late in the proceedings but Willa wouldn't take no for an answer on that either.
When the cork popped and the flutes were filled, she raised her glass. “Here's to the best of friends and the right outcome in the end."
* * * *
His first post-retirement trip to the coffee shop would be his last, Kelly decided. Sure the guys slapped him on the back as though they hadn't seen him two days earlier at his retirement party. Kelly wasn't sure what the back slapping was about, but a little went a long way. Like the jovial kidding and the sideways glances. Tildy would have called those glances furtive and cowardly, or passive aggressive, or even subtly undermining. Jameson shrugged and said, “Things change when you leave the force.” Tildy would have told Kelly he could do better for companionship. He patted his Gore-Tex jacket pocket, just in case he had forgotten the binoculars.
Willa telephoned Leann and Cliff. “I've liquidated some investments and I'm borrowing the rest through my bank. I'm using the house as collateral. The manager was quite inquisitive but everything will be ready by Friday."
"Long as you didn't let the cat out of the bag. This deal's confidential,” Cliff said.
"Don't worry. I told him I was buying a condo in Naples, a deal too good to pass up, and he'd better be quick or I'd switch my business. So now, I want you to come here first for lunch on Friday."
Leann said. “Please don't stress yourself, Willa."
"Indulge me,” Willa said. “Nothing but clam chowder, fresh rolls, and a blueberry pie. And ice cream, naturally. I am so excited, I'll enjoy every minute."
Cliff said. “We'll bring the wine. And drink it too."
"Oh you.” That was the signal that Leann gave in.
* * * *
Kelly decided to skip the coffee shop with the guys. His mind was on red-winged blackbirds. They might be common as dirt, but Kelly liked the flash of scarlet against their dark wings as they worked on their nests near the riverbank. Tildy had not cared much about trees, so Kelly didn't even know which type of tree. On the way back to the river, he stopped into Callahan's Used Books and bought A Beginner's Guide to Trees of North America.
As he passed a sparkling black Cadillac parked in front of the flower shop, he was astonished to see an unexpected female in the passenger seat. Kelly retreated behind a large tree and pulled out the Bushnells. She may have gained forty pounds and dyed her hair deep brown, but you couldn't miss the arrogant tilt of that Carson head. She lifted a large hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and Kelly spotted the distinctive ring she'd worn leaving the courthouse. As the male half approached and slid into the car, Kelly figured the sandy hair for a toupee. Or had the previous baldness been deliberate? Either way, it was amazing what the wrong people could do with a pack of Miss Clairol and a good rug.
Jameson wasn't friendly when he picked up the phone to hear that the Carsons had been spotted. “We don't have a case. We don't have a complaint against them. They were acquitted the last time you tried. Now you're friggin’ retired, Kelly. Suck it up."
* * * *
Willa spent twenty minutes fussing over the table settings in the dining room. In part it was an excuse to speak to the silver-framed photo of Arnold and Molly. “We were the best of friends and I will never forget you.” Shortly before Leann and Cliff were due, Willa gently tucked Molly and Arnold into the top drawer of the mahogany sideboard. She straightened her spine and wiped her eyes. She finally had something to celebrate.
Willa made lunch, humming away.
* * * *
Kelly hoped to catch sight of the pileated woodpecker near the stand of what he now knew to be old hemlocks. He'd staked out the small bench at the end of Main Street overlooking the river. He sat in the middle, bird book on one side, tree book on the other. It was meant to discourage any talkers who might try to join him. Although, with the icy late-March wind blowing off the water, Kelly had the riverbank and the birds to himself. His battered Civic sat alone in the parking lot. He had added a notebook and pen to his equipment and was already up to six sightings that morning. He'd made notes about each. Sparrows, you could always count on them. He was starting to identify individual birds by the subtle differences in their brown markings. He spotted a pair of red-winged blackbirds, the female so much paler, a cluster of starlings with wing feathers like gas in a puddle, the regular crow, and a splendid seagull sailing along like a sea captain on a chunk of ice. The woodpecker would make six, if it showed itself.
* * * *
"Don't think I'm rude asking you to stay here,” Willa said for the third time. “But the less that nosy manager knows about my business the better."
Leann said, “We're stuffed from that wonderful lunch you made. We couldn't move even if we wanted to."
Cliff chuckled, “Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you."
"As long as you don't mind waiting a bit. He's as pokey as he is snoopy."
Leann laughed. “You'll be the one trotting along that freezing river walk while we sit in luxury, sipping coffee. Thank you for that, too. It's delicious."
"Vanilla hazelnut,” Willa said modestly.
Cliff took a sip. “These stainless travel cups are dandy. You have to stop getting us gifts, little lady."
Willa said. “My pleasure. What an adventure. I can't believe I'm about to match your suitcase full of cash and be part of a hush-hush deal. It's like a movie."
"If you're having second thoughts, we'd survive, wouldn't we, Cliff?"
"We sure would, hon."
Willa's eyes sparkled. “Not a chance I'll miss this opportunity."
"Oh you,” Leann said.
* * * *
Kelly had been late getting off to Sam's Diner for lunch and it was well into afternoon before he settled back into place on the bench, slipped his warm leather gloves on, and focused his Bushnells. He was seeking a shy little singer he took to be a chickadee, when he realized with a spark of annoyance that his view was blocked by the glossy Cadillac idling at the edge of the swollen river. Kelly considered alerting Jameson again when he was stunned to see Miss Bennington emerge from the backseat. She was unmistakable with her bright coral scarf and gloves and soft woolly coat. She carried a small black briefcase. Even from where he was sitting, she looked excited. Perhaps even overheated.
She glanced over her shoulder and limped up the hill toward the bridge to Main Street. Where wa
s she going with that briefcase? It couldn't be easy. Her limp was worse than before. He hated to be the one to spoil her excitement, but what if she was headed to the bank? He ducked past the Cadillac and slouched down so the Carsons wouldn't spot him. He hurried up the path and across the bridge after her. At Main Street, Kelly stared around. The guys were right. Things change. Less than a week into retirement and he'd lost his touch. Miss Bennington was nowhere to be seen. He strode along to the bank, pushed open the bank door, headed for the office, and instructed the goggle-eyed manager to stall if any client wanted to withdraw an unusually large amount. Kelly muttered about attempted fraud and innocent parties. He neglected to mention his retirement. Better that way. The manager assured Kelly he would be happy to comply.
Still no sign of Miss Bennington.
Kelly was out of breath when he returned to the Cadillac. Those bastard Carsons were sleeping, heads back, mouths open, polluting the air while they were at it. The car was unlocked, the windows down. Kelly yanked open the driver's door and reached in. He'd wake them up all right. He had nothing to lose by telling them to leave Willa Bennington the hell alone. He might save her from heartbreak and financial ruin, but what about the many others he would never know about? How could these people sleep with what they'd done, with people's deaths on their consciences?
It was as though he was watching someone else's actions as his hand slipped forward and nudged the shift into Drive. If the Carsons had opened their eyes, they would not have been any more astonished than Kelly himself.
* * * *
For someone wearing bright coral gloves and scarf, Miss Bennington was remarkably hard to spot. Kelly was back on Main Street for the second time, when he finally located her leaving the jewelry store, swinging her briefcase, not a care in the world, heading back toward the river to meet the Carsons. When Kelly caught up with her on the bridge, it was too late.
She pointed to the river, wordlessly.
The Cadillac bobbed in the river, swept along by the rough spring current. Kelly hadn't anticipated needing a cell phone for his bird watching. Miss Bennington didn't have one either. She managed to keep pace with him as he hurried back toward the coffee shop to call 911, although there wasn't a hope in hell for the Carsons. When Kelly and Miss Bennington returned to the river, they spotted the glint of chrome from the rear. Then that too vanished beneath the choppy waves.
EQMM, September-October 2010 Page 28