The veins on Mary Alice’s neck began to bulge out and her face turned red as her rage continued to grow. “Louis Kramer, you are going to sit down right now and tell me what the hell is going on!”
“Alright, honey, please settle down,” he said, his Texas accent becoming more pronounced as he softened his tone. He reached over and took her by the arm, leading her to a couch where they both sat down. Leaning over, he stroked a few stray hairs out of her eyes.
She looked back without the least bit of patience or understanding in her stern expression. “You better be straight with me, Louie.”
He repositioned himself on the coach and then took another drink from his glass of wine. “Alex and I have run into a little trouble down at the office…”
“Sally said you’re responsible for whatever the hell is going on here,” she interrupted.
“Of course she would, honey. She just can’t believe her perfect Alex could mess up.”
“Just tell me what’s going on!” Mary Alice demanded.
“Well, we were audited a few months ago and a couple of things turned up the Feds are getting all excited about.”
She reached for his glass and finished the rest of the wine in one long swallow.
Louis watched her and felt the nervous apprehension continue to flush through his veins. He had been able to stand up to and hold his own with some of the toughest business people in the world, but Mary Alice Gregory was in a whole different league when she was crossed.
“The Feds? What, like the IRS, or what?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Like the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Attorney General of the State of New York.”
“Holy shit!” she screamed, jumping up off the couch.
“Dear, really now, it’s just a little misunderstanding. Our damned financial guy makes a couple of mistakes and everyone gets all jumpy.”
“Did Alex Clark know what was going on?” she asked.
He looked her in the eye and knew there was no escaping the truth. “No, he really didn’t know exactly what happened until the subpoenas came down.”
“You’ve been subpoenaed?”
“Yeah…” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “We’re scheduled for a hearing…”
“A hearing!” Mary Alice went over to the bar and poured more wine. “So, what did you expect to accomplish with Sally last night?”
“Alex won’t work with us on this. He’s got his own lawyers.”
“Sounds like he’s being pretty damn smart distancing himself from the rest of you.”
Louis felt his anger rising and he tried to stay calm. “Who the hell’s side are you on, anyway?”
“I just don’t appreciate having Ms. High and Mighty catching me downtown and knowing more about my husband’s damn business than I do and finding out you’ve been dragging your ass over to her house trying to beg for mercy!”
He tried his best to keep his temper under control. Walking over to the door out to the lake he turned and said, “I’m going to need you on my side, Mary Alice.”
She didn’t answer.
The diver stood dripping on the deck of the boat, reaching into a bag attached to a belt at his waist. The wind through the trees up along the hill had calmed in the later afternoon. Shadows played down across the quiet bay behind Holy Island. Sheriff Elam Stone sat watching, chewing on a big wad of gum as the diver pulled something out of the bag. The sun caught the flat shiny surface of a large hunting knife and the reflection flashed brightly in his eyes.
“Holy crap!” the old sheriff said. “That’s a big damn pig sticker.”
The diver handled the knife carefully. His partner held out a big plastic bag and the diver dropped it in. “Found it down there in about twenty feet of water, lying out nice as day on the bottom. Couldn’t have been there for more than a few days, or the sand would have silted over it.”
“You pretty sure this is where Hansen’s boat was?” Porter asked.
“Yeah, we matched up the GPS coordinates we took the other day when we found the old guy in the boat.”
“He didn’t have any knife wounds,” the sheriff said.
“No,” the diver responded, “I’m guessing the friends who came out to see him that day used this big knife to persuade the old guy to go overboard, and then they held him under until he drowned.”
“Been thinking about this a lot,” said the sheriff. “Can’t figure why they’d pull him back into the boat after drowning him like that. Why not just leave him on the bottom and make it look like he fell out of the boat and drowned?”
The diver just shook his head. “Not very professional, leaving a weapon behind and all.”
“Let me get that knife over to the lab in Traverse City, see what we can get off it,” said Sheriff Stone.
The Falcon corporate jet lifted off the runway at LaGuardia and banked steeply to the west. Alex watched as the skyline of Manhattan spread out across the horizon, the late evening sun shining brightly behind the Chrysler Building. He turned away from the small round window and watched his attorney, Anna Bataglia, across the narrow aisle, searching for something in her tan leather shoulder bag. He couldn’t help notice the skirt from her gray suit was pushed up and she had crossed her long bare legs out in front of her. She turned and saw Alex looking at her and he looked away quickly.
Damn. When he glanced back over, he saw she was smiling. Sally is just going to love this house guest, he thought.
“I’m glad you agreed to let me come along, Alex. We need to spend a lot more time getting ready for this hearing and I don’t want to be a thousand miles away trying to get this taken care of by phone or email.”
“I know you’re right,” he answered. “I just need to get up to Charlevoix to spend some time with Sally. She’s really taking the loss of her old friend, George, awfully hard.”
“I’m really sorry about your friend, Alex.”
“Yeah, thanks. He was a fine old gentleman. We got to be close friends over the past few years.”
“How much does Sally know about the business and the investigation?”
“She knows we’re having some issues, but none of the details.”
The plane continued to climb steeply, and Alex looked out the window again, watching the big city begin to slip away behind them.
“For her own sake, keep her as far away from this as possible,” Anna said.
Alex just nodded. “No luck on finding our friend, Littlefair?”
“No, the bastard has really slipped into a hole somewhere,” Anna said. “But, he’ll turn up. The Feds aren’t going to rest on you guys and your CFO is prime meat in all of this. The fact he’s running certainly won’t help his cause, but you need to be able to distance yourself completely from this guy.”
“Guess I’m not surprised that our accountants are covering their asses, big time.”
“Yeah,” she answered, “they’re damn good at making sure nothing sticks.”
“As far as I know, Louis is still up in Charlevoix,” Alex said.
Anna placed her bag on the seat facing her and then adjusted her skirt, pulling it down with little effect. “I think it’s time we had a very private discussion with your friend and soon to be former partner, Louis Kramer.”
Chapter Eight
I think back about the Truegoods and remember a family who loved each other so much. They passed the traditions of their people down with each generation and for the most part, brought honor and respect to their family. Of all of them over the years, little Sammy was always my favorite. He had a sense of purpose and character you don’t often see in young men.
… the summer of 1952
Sammy Truegood had been released from jail when George Hansen helped his mother post bail. Warned by the sheriff not to leave town, he stayed at home with his mother the first night but left the house early the next morning. In the early light, he rode his bike out of town towards Petoskey, turning at the Boyne City road to head out along Lake Char
levoix. The bright sun cut through the trees ahead and he pedaled hard up the big hills and then enjoyed the feel of the wind in his face as he coasted down the other side. It felt good to be free out in the fresh summer air again. He tried hard to push away thoughts of Jennifer Harris and his arrest.
A couple of miles out of town he came to a narrow dirt road leading up into the trees away from the lake. He got off his bike and walked with it up the hill. Two small fawns came out of the woods ahead of him and bent their heads to feed on wildflowers growing along the road. Sammy was close enough to make out the white spots on their back and he stood quietly, hoping not to spook them away. He heard rustling in the brush and the mother doe came out, immediately seeing Sammy holding his bike. She stopped quickly, and her ears twitched back and forth. He saw her nostrils flaring as she tried to gauge the threat. The twins turned to see their mother come out onto the road. They saw Sammy standing there, but apparently didn’t feel threatened because they returned to their feeding. The mother finally had seen enough of the intruder and snorted at the young deer, who immediately looked up again. She turned and walked back into the woods, her two babies following obediently behind. Sammy watched them disappear into the heavy brush and was thankful for even the brief encounter with the deer.
Pushing his bike on up the road, he eventually came around a bend and could see an opening in the trees and brush up ahead. In a large clearing in the woods, the rough cabin of the Greensky Mission Church sat in the high grass. Missionaries in the early 1800’s had come to the area, converting the Native Americans to Christianity. One of the local members of the Odawa, Peter Greensky, had become an interpreter for one of the early missionaries and had stayed to help start the first church.
Across a field from the mission, a circle of maple trees had been planted years ago to form a ring around a gathering place with low wood benches. The legends of his people said this clearing had been used as a meeting place for the tribes of the Odawa. During one of these meetings, the chief from each of the tribes had agreed to plant a tree to symbolize the unity of the tribes. They swore an oath that as long as the coming of spring brought new leaves on the trees, the tribes would remain at peace. To help prevent the trees from being taken for lumber, each was bent and tied to grow at an angle. They became known as the Bent Council Trees. Many of the trees still survived and the place was used to this day for ceremonial gatherings of his people.
Sammy Truegood had come to the mission and the Bent Council Trees many times with his family. He always felt a special bond with his ancestors when he sat among the bent maple trees. The wind through the trees sounded like whispers from the past.
He laid his bike down in the grass and walked out into the center of the circle of trees. Looking up into the sky through the trees, he turned slowly, listening to the wind.
Emily Compton sat down on the soft cushion of the white wicker chair on the porch of her parent’s house. The big Victorian summer home looked out over a large green lawn and down to the lake. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling the weight and grief of the past hours try to escape from her body. The family had buried her father earlier in the day up at the Charlevoix cemetery. The service had been attended by family, friends and many of her father’s business associates from down in Detroit. Most of the attendees were now inside the house giving their respects to the Compton family. Emily had cried out so much of her grief and emotions over the past two days leading up to the funeral, she felt drained of any more energy to mourn. The realization her father was gone, however, was still incredibly painful for her.
She heard someone come out onto the porch and sit down next to her. She felt the comfort of a warm hand reach for hers and then heard the reassuring voice of her husband, Jonathan.
“Emily, I wish there was something more I could do for you,” Jonathan said. “I know how badly this hurts. My father’s passing was so hard.”
She squeezed his hand in response. A single tear ran down her cheek.
Really, is there anything I can get for you?” he asked.
She opened her eyes and turned to look at Jonathan McKendry. It struck her as such a blessing that now, after so many years of caring for her husband through the challenges and tragedies he and his family had faced, he was here for her in the same way. She sat up and leaned over close to his face, looking into his eyes. She kissed him on the cheek and then on the mouth. When she pulled back, she saw his eyes were closed. “You’re doing more than enough just being here with me. I love you, Jonathan.”
He opened his eyes and smiled. “I love you, too,” he said. Reaching over and taking her hands in his own, he kissed her gently on the forehead and said, “I do have something I thought might cheer you up, maybe a little.” A sly smile spread across his face.
“What have you done, Jonathan?” she said, forcing a smile to finally break through. She watched as her husband reached into the pocket of his jacket. He pulled his hand out with a closed fist and held it out in front of her. “Come on, Jonathan, I’m in no mood for suspense.” As he slowly opened the fingers of his hand, she leaned forward to see a key resting in his palm. Emily looked up at him with a confused grin. “What have you done?”
“Do you remember that little house up on Michigan…?”
Before he could finish, she jumped up and sat down on his lap, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Oh, Jonathan, you wouldn’t tease me about this, would you?”
Shaking his head no and kissing her again, he said, “No, and I can’t wait to carry you across the threshold, Mrs. McKendry.”
George Hansen parked his car in front of his office. As he walked up on the sidewalk, Connor Harris came around the corner. The two men saw each other, and Connor quickened his pace. George stood and watched the man come toward him, noticing he still moved with a slight limp from the fight with Jonathan’s brother, Luke, back before the war.
“Hansen, wait up there!” Harris yelled. “I need to talk to you.”
George put his keys in his pocket and crossed his arms, trying to remain calm. “Listen Harris, I have nothing to say to you without your family’s attorney here.”
Connor stopped in front of him, uncomfortably close, a furious look distorting his face. “Damn’t, Hansen, then I’ll talk and you listen. This damn Indian kid has got to pay for what he’s done to my sister and I better not find you pulling any legal bullshit to get him off.”
George laughed despite his growing anger. “What if we try to get to the truth, Harris?”
“The truth?” Connor said. “The truth is we know he was down there, and he got those girls drunk and he raped my sister, Jennifer!”
“Let’s have this out in the courtroom, Connor.” George turned to go into his office. Harris grabbed him by the sleeve and pushed him up against the building. “By God, Hansen…”
Before he could finish, George came up quickly with both hands and pushed him away. Connor tripped backwards on his bad leg and fell to the pavement. George walked over and leaned down over him. “If you ever touch me again, Harris, I swear I’ll kick your ass and sweep the street with you.” He turned and went into his office and watched through the window as Connor Harris picked himself up and limped away down the sidewalk.
Jennifer Harris looked at the sailboats jockeying for position in the race offshore. The crisp white sails stood out brightly against the clear blue of the sky. She sat with her friend, Elaine, in wooden beach chairs. She had a towel draped over her legs to protect a sunburn from the previous day. Through the boats, she could see all the way down Lake Charlevoix towards Boyne City.
“Hey, girls!”
Jennifer turned to see Andy Welton coming across the beach. Her heart sank as she felt the embarrassment again of what had happened with Sammy Truegood out at Fisherman’s Island. She had held a schoolgirl crush for Andy as long as she could remember and last summer he had finally noticed her. By the end of the summer they were an item, and through the long school year they had
stayed in touch by letters and both looking forward to the coming summer. She knew he and his friends had found her out at the beach that night and she shuddered to think of them coming up and finding her passed out drunk and naked in the dunes.
“Oh great, it’s Andy,” she said to her friend. She wished she could run and hide.
“Jenny, don’t worry. It will be alright.”
The boy came around and sat in front of them on the sand. He had his bathing suit on and old gray sweatshirt with University of Michigan on it. His brown hair was a mess of random curls pushed in odd angles from an earlier dip in the lake. He reached under the towel and rubbed one of her feet affectionately. “Hey Jenny, how are you doing?”
His touch startled her, and she pulled back without thinking. Sitting forward, she wrapped her arms around her knees and looked down at the sand. “Andy, I really don’t know what to say. I am so embarrassed about what happened.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, a look of anger washing over his face. “That sonofabitch is gonna pay for what’s he’s done.”
Elaine jumped into the conversation, “Andy, you and the boys, well…it’s just a good thing you were out there that night.”
Jennifer thought back again, trying to piece together the memories of that day. “I’m just so embarrassed how you found me, and I was so drunk.”
“Didn’t Elaine tell you she found you first and had you dressed and everything when we came to help take you back.”
For a moment, this made her feel a bit better, but then it seemed odd her friend hadn’t told her about this earlier. She looked over at Elaine with a puzzled expression.
“Oh yeah, Jenn, I got you as cleaned up as I could before the boys came down. You were so drunk, I was afraid you were dead at first,” said Elaine.
“The doctors said I was darn close. If I ever smell a glass of whiskey again, I think I’ll pass out and die.”
The Summer Town Page 8
