The Monarch Graveyard
Page 22
“I’m over here doing things I want to be doing. If it was me, you know your mother would be at my place doing the same things I’m doing for her.” She picked up her cup. “Remember when your dad got sick? Rachel didn’t handle that very well either. She was shocked when your father finally passed. Everyone else saw it coming.”
Olivia dabbed her eyes again. “You’re being too kind. Rachel was always too busy with her own issues to worry about Dad. She’s self-centered. That’s all there is to it.” She brushed a lock of hair away from her face. Maybe that’s why they were never close.
She picked up her cellphone and punched in a number. “Rachel, it’s three-thirty. You were supposed to be here at three. Are you on your way?” Her face tightened. “Maybe tomorrow? That’s your answer?” After another minute, she ended the call and set the phone back down.
During the conversation, Elaine had left the table and was busying herself straightening up the kitchen.
“I hate to ask,” Olivia said, “but can you stay another hour?”
“Sure. I need to be home at five when Ben gets there, but dinners already in the Crock Pot.”
Olivia grabbed her purse. “I need to have a little talk with my sister. You know, face to face.”
As she drove down North Street, Olivia was surprised to see how many more businesses were closed since the last time she’d visited her sister. Once the docks shut down and the huge ore boats stopped coming, the many bars that lined the street just couldn’t make it. Was Beamer’s Tavern still open? Just like Rachel to live above a bar.
When Olivia rounded the corner, she had her answer. Several cars were in the parking lot, and music blasted from inside. She climbed halfway up the old wooden steps to her sister’s apartment and then stopped in panic. The handrail she was holding onto swayed back and forth. It felt like the whole staircase could collapse at any minute. How could Rachel live here?
Olivia caught her breath and carefully climbed the rest of the way to her sister’s door. She knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again, then peeked into a side window. Dirty dishes were stacked on the kitchen counter. Was Rachel out somewhere?
Olivia turned and cautiously made her way back down the rickety staircase. She passed the door to the tavern and stopped. Could Rachel be inside? She pressed her face close to the big plate glass window. Yes, there she was having a drink at the bar. Olivia entered the building and took a seat next to her.
Rachel turned to her in surprise. “What are you doing here? Out slummin’?” She motioned to the bartender. “Hey, Gene, get my sister a drink. Put it on my tab.”
Olivia reached into her purse and tossed some money on the bar. “I’ll pay for my own drink, thank you.”
“What are you having?” the bartender asked.
“Cabernet Sauvignon, please.”’
Rachel’s eyebrows arched. “Did you hear that? Cabernet Sauvignon.” She looked down the length of the bar. “We’re all drinking Bud Lite, but the queen here wants Cabernet Sauvignon.”
Ignoring her sister’s comment, Olivia replied, “It’s nice to see you too. I’ve been home three weeks now, and I’ve only seen you a few times.”
“I’ve been…busy.” Rachel pulled a cigarette from a pack on the bar and lit it.
Olivia waved the smoke away. “Mom was looking forward to seeing you today.”
“Really? The last time I was over there all she did was sleep. When she finally did wake up, all she did was talk about how happy she was that you were home.”
“Elaine from next door is helping out a lot. I thought that, since you’re not working, and I’m home now, we could both figure out a schedule and let Elaine get back to doing her own things.”
Rachel grimaced. “A schedule? Don’t sign me up for any schedule. I’ve been looking for a job. It’s not easy finding something around here. When an opening does come up, I’ve gotta jump on it. I can’t be tied down to any schedule.”
Olivia stood. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” She turned toward the door.
Rachel looked at Olivia’s glass. It was still three-fourth’s full. “What about your drink?”
Olivia didn’t respond. She continued walking toward the entrance.
“Suit yourself.” Rachel picked up the glass and chugged the wine.
Chapter 2
Olivia carried the lunch tray into her mother’s room and gently set it down on the table next to the bed. “You’re looking better, Mom. You have more color than you did the last few days. Are you ready for some lunch?”
Joyce Thompson slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position. “I do feel better. And for the first time in weeks, I’m actually hungry.” She looked over at the tray. “Let me start with the apple slices. They look good.”
Olivia smiled and handed her the small plate of fruit. “Here. I’m so happy I don’t have to argue and try to convince you to eat something.”
Joyce took a bite. “The doctor said I should be starting to feel better soon. I didn’t think it would take so long.” Her mother slowly ate more of her lunch.
Olivia sat back in amazement. She was eating better than she had since Olivia returned from college. She couldn’t wait to tell Elaine.
Her mother patted her lips with a napkin. “I heard you talking to your boyfriend this morning. He’s been calling you a lot lately. I think this is more serious than you’ve let on.”
Olivia shook her head. “No, I guess he just misses me, that’s all.”
“You haven’t told me much about him. What’s his name?”
“That’s because we haven’t gone out that many times. I only met him about a month before school got out. His name’s Thomas. Thomas Riggins.”
“Based on all the times he calls you, I think you must have made quite an impression on the young man.”
“Please, Mother.” She needed to change the subject. “He’s not a young man. He was a Marine, and he’s going to school on the GI Bill.”
Joyce looked up. “How old is he?”
Olivia thought. “I’d say he’s in his late twenties.”
“How did you meet him?”
“He knew one of my girlfriends. They went to high school together. I met him down in the student union, and we kind of hit it off.”
“Does he want to come by and see you? If he does, why don’t you have him over?”
“He’s going up to the mountains to do some hiking, and he wants me to go with him.”
Joyce turned. “You should go.”
Olivia sat back. “But I want to be here with you.”
Joyce reached over and patted her daughter’s hand. “Thank you. I know you do. But you have a life too. You’ve hardly left my side since you got back. I think getting out of this house would do you good.”
Olivia handed her mother a small glass of milk. “No, this is where I want to be.”
“I really think you should go. When does he want to go hiking?”
“It doesn’t matter, Mom. I’m not going anywhere.”
One hundred and sixty miles to the north, Russo’s Tavern occupied a corner of the third block of the small main street of Ontonagon, Michigan for seventy-three years. With a steadily declining population—currently at 1,308—, the bar depended on visitors to the huge Porcupine Mountain Wilderness State Park to stay open.
The front door opened. Bartender Paul Karppenin turned to see who had come in. He smiled. “Hey, Charlie. I was just thinking about you.”
Charlie sat down at the long bar. “Oh?”
“Well, I guess I was really thinking about me first and then you. I was wondering if you heard anything about my application.”
Charlie shook his head as Paul set a tall mug of beer in front of him. “No, we’ve got a hiring freeze going on from Washington. Not sure how long that’s going to be in effect.”
Paul frowned. “Damn. I need to find a job. It would be great if I could work for the park. I’d be outside most of the time. It would be nice to get back into t
he woods.”
“How’s your degree coming?”
“Ah, kind of slow. I’m taking a few classes online, but I don’t think I’ll have my bachelor’s degree for another year and a half.”
Charlie took a sip of beer. “That may be a problem. They’re really pushing for a four-year degree now.” He smiled. “You want to get back to the woods. Once I got my master’s, they stuck me behind a desk. I get to drive around every now and then, but most of the time I’m pushing a pencil. Are they still closing this place?”
“As far as I know. Tearing the whole building down and putting up a car wash.”
Charlie shook his head. “A car wash. I can’t believe it. How’d they ever push that through the planning commission?”
Paul smiled. “When Fred Mattson speaks, everyone listens.”
“Yep. Money and power. They go hand in hand. It’s a shame this old building’s going to have to go.” He looked around the bar. “It’s got so much character.”
“To say nothing about putting us all out of work. Anyway, enough of that. When are they going to reopen the Summit Peak Trail?”
“It reopened last week. We didn’t want to make a big deal of it, so we kept it kind of low-keyed.”
“That poor hiker. I bet he doesn’t get lost from now on.”
“Yeah. He spent a long night up on the Summit Peak Trail.” Charlie leaned forward and lowered his voice. “That’s what I came in here to tell you, but you can’t mention it to anybody. It hasn’t made the news yet.”
Paul stepped closer. Why had Charlie lowered his voice? There were only three other customers in the bar. Two of them were sitting at a table near the entrance. The other guy, Duck Lindquist, was sitting by himself at the far end of the bar. Paul asked, “What’s going on?”
“Did I tell you that at first when they found the guy, they thought he was all upset about having to spend all night in the woods? But when they finally got him calmed down, that wasn’t it at all. He led them to a spot off the trail where he’d found that skull.”
“No. I never heard all the particulars.”
“Well, tomorrow we’re having a meeting up at headquarters. We’re getting a briefing from the coroner and forensic anthropologist.”
“How long has it been since they found the skull?”
Charlie thought. “Five or six weeks, I think.”
Paul grabbed a glass and poured himself a soda. “I wonder what they figured out. That should be interesting.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To Julie Beam, Gordon Anderson, Dave Hohenstern, Susan Wood, and Duncan Hebbard, for your support, beta reading, and editing functions. This book would not have been possible without your dedication and support.
Other Books by James R. Nelson
The Stephen Moorehouse Mystery Series
The Butterfly Conspiracy
The Peacock Prophecy
Menagerie of Broken Dreams
The Archie Archibald Mystery Series
A Crimson Sky for Dying
The Black Orchid Mystery
Unsafe Harbor
Stand Alone Titles
The Pilot
The Maze at Four Chimneys
The House on Turner Land
Peacock Redux and Other Short Stories
Contact Information
Email – jrnfl@hotmail.com
Website – jamesrnelson.com -