The Summer Town

by Michael Lindley

  The pain in his hand throbbed and the look of Jennifer Harris’ frightened expression remained clear in his mind.

  An hour later they all sat around a small table in Sheriff Potts’ office. The sheriff was on the phone talking, making notes on a pad in front of him. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of that,” he said, shaking his head as if the caller could see his expression. He hung up the phone and then stood to walk around his desk. He pulled the heavy gun belt and his pants up higher around his round belly. “Sammy, damn if you don’t know when you’ve had enough.”

  Sammy looked down at the table and the glass of water in front of him.

  “That was Harris. He’s on his way down to file a complaint.” The sheriff took one of the seats across from Sammy. “Now, I’ve heard your side of this story. You sure you’ve got nothing else you want to tell me?”

  Sammy shook his head no.

  “Let me ask you something else, son, if you don’t mind, George?”

  “No, go ahead.”

  “That night, down at the beach, you remember Jennifer Harris leaving the fire to go up into the dunes?”

  Sammy sat for a few moments without answering, then he shook his head, “No, I really don’t remember. She was sitting near me and Elaine and some of the other kids and they kept passing bottles around and she was taking some awful long drinks.”

  “So, why’d you get up and leave then?” the sheriff asked.

  “I knew I had to get back into town and that crowd was getting pretty out of control. I just didn’t want to be part of it.”

  “And that’s when Welton and his buddies tried to jump you?”

  “Yeah, they stopped me on the trail.”

  “Did you say goodbye to Jennifer, or any of the others?” the sheriff asked.

  “I guess I did, I don’t know. They wouldn’t remember anyway.”

  “Sammy,” George said, “it’s real important we have this sequence of events clear. Last time you saw Jennifer Harris, she was sitting at the fire with the other kids?”

  Sammy looked at his lawyer, the memories of that evening swirling in his head. Then a helpless feeling came over him and he realized he wasn’t sure.

  Jennifer Harris walked up the sidewalk to the sheriff’s office with her brother, Connor. She was having a hard time keeping up with him. He hadn’t said a word to her since the fight with Sam Truegood, other than to insist she come with him down to see Sheriff Potts. As they walked up to the door, it swung open and George Hansen came out followed by Sammy and his mother. She watched as her brother tensed and then stopped abruptly.

  George saw them and stopped, too, putting his arm out to hold back the others. “Harris, we don’t want anymore trouble with you,” George said.

  Connor stared straight at Sammy with a hateful glare. “This boy here has got to be put away. First, he attacks my sister and then he has the nerve to come to our house and comes after me. You ass needs to be thrown in jail where you can’t hurt anybody else!”

  “Mr. Harris…,” Sammy started.

  George held up his hand to silence him and said, “Let’s just get out of here.”

  Jennifer met Sammy’s gaze and she had a helpless feeling all of this was spiraling so far out of control.

  George Hansen herded Sammy and his mother around them on the sidewalk. Connor grabbed Sammy’s arm as they tried to pass and said, “I’m warning you, don’t ever come near my house or my family again, ever!”

  George came between the two of them and pushed Connor’s hand away. The two men stood face to face. “You and I aren’t through either, Hansen.”

  Harold Slayton sat in his truck parked along an old dirt two-track road leading down to the lake near Ironton. He reached for the pint bottle of whiskey on the seat next to him and took another drink. It was early evening and the sun had gone down behind the trees up on the hill and the shadows spilled out onto the waves coming up onto the deserted beach. One boat cruised slowly, far offshore and a flock of ducks flew into the marshes across at the far point of the bay into the South Arm of Lake Charlevoix. His mind was muddled with random thoughts, dulled by the whiskey. He rubbed at his forehead, the familiar ache in his brain from too much to drink.

  A cold anger swept through him again. That doctor needs to keep herself out of our business. He remembered the satisfaction he felt in slapping her and watching her fall to the ground. Hope that knocked some damn sense into her. He thought about his wife and could only feel disgust and anger for them taking his little girl away. He just wanted this all to be over and have his family back at the farm.

  He took another drink, a long one this time, and he drained the bottle. The whiskey hammered at his brain and the bottle dropped from his hand to the floor of the truck. He leaned his head back against the cold hardness of the rear window of the truck and then closed his eyes and felt the comfort of darkness and sleep wash over him.

  George Hansen sat in the kitchen of Jonathan and Emily’s house, a cup of coffee warm in his hand. Jonathan was cleaning up some dishes in the sink and then came over and sat across the table from his friend, turning on a light switch on the wall as the late evening light faded outside.

  “She’s been sleeping for a couple of hours since we brought her home,” Jonathan said. “Damn George, that sonofabitch Slayton…”

  “No sign of him, yet?”

  “No, I talked to Potts about an hour ago and his men were still out looking for him. He asked if I wanted someone to watch the house tonight.”

  “Probably a good idea,” George said, then taking another sip from his coffee.

  “No, we’ll be alright. I hope the asshole does come by here. If he ever gets near Emily again, I’m afraid of what I might do to him.”

  “You need to let Potts take care of this.”

  Jonathan nodded. “I know, I know. It scares the hell out of me he could have killed her today.”

  George looked at his friend and saw the strain of all this in the deep creases in his forehead. “The doc says she’s gonna be alright?” George asked.

  “She fell pretty hard and hit her head on that brick wall. He wants her to stay down for a couple days,” he answered. “And her face,” he paused, trying to hold back the anger building again. “She looked so afraid and she’s got this terrible bruise on her cheek.”

  “Jonathan, they’ll find this guy and put him away and you won’t have to worry about this,” George said, trying to reassure his friend. “It’s been quite a day. You haven’t heard about Sammy, have you?”

  “No, what now?”

  George shared the story about Sammy’s visit to the Harris house and the confrontation at the sheriff’s office.

  “It’s about time someone took a shot at Connor Harris,” Jonathan said. “Good for Sammy!”

  “Not good for Sammy,” George said, quickly. “He’s got enough trouble and now an assault charge against the brother of the girl he’s accused of raping.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Jonathan said.

  “I was feeling better about this case and the boy’s chances. No one’s come forward who actually saw Sammy with the Harris girl. It really could have been any of those boys out there that night.”

  “So, why Sammy?”

  “All of Jennifer Harris’ friends have convinced her it was him,” George said. “I’m beginning to think Sammy wasn’t even down there at the beach when she was attacked. Hell, I don’t even know if she was attacked. She was so drunk; she could have just had sex with someone out there in the dunes, passed out and never remembered what happened.”

  “You think so?”

  George scratched his head and looked out the window. “I don’t know. One thing I do know is Sammy didn’t do this.”

  “He’s not a bad kid,” Jonathan said. “All kids make mistakes, but I don’t see Sammy doing this.”

  “Well, I felt better about the judge having the same point of view until Sammy broke his hand on Conner Harris’ face this afternoon.” He finished his
coffee and stood up. “Look, I need to get home to see Elizabeth before the rest of this day slips away. You tell Emily not to worry. We’ll get this Harold Slayton guy put away.”

  Sammy Truegood walked through the woods along the dunes at North Point. It was dark and the moon was only the slightest sliver, but he knew the trail and made his way easily. He came out onto the flat beach and the sand gave way beneath his feet as he walked down to the shore. The water was calm and black against the night sky and he saw the reflections of lights on a tanker far offshore. Mosquitoes buzzed around his head but didn’t seem to want to land.

  His hand still throbbed under the wrapped dressing. He gently squeezed a soft fist with it and the pain shot up his arm. Connor Harris and his threats continued to shake him, and he struggled to think he had made the situation even worse today. He knew he would have to continue to defend himself, but he also knew he had to let his lawyer do his job and not make it any harder.

  He thought about the words of his grandfather and the precepts of his people. Look up to the skies often, by day and by night, and see the sun, moon and stars which shine in the firmament, and think that the Great Spirit is always looking down upon you.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anna Bataglia stood on the docking platform alongside the massive white hull of the EmmaLee, the big ship floating motionlessly in the calm water of Round Lake. She dipped a few toes in the water and pulled back quickly, feeling the early summer chill of the water. She was dressed in a simple black tank suit she had brought along, the one she wore when she swam to workout back in the city. She had been on the phone most of the day checking in with her office and following up on the many surprises Louis Kramer had laid on them earlier. She had decided a swim would help to clear the cobwebs.

  Boat traffic was heavy on the little inland harbor. A brightly colored ski boat with wake boards hanging on the sides of a chrome tower cruised slowly by with four teenage boys. They noticed Anna and turned the boat to come closer.

  “Hey lady, go for it!” one of them yelled. “The water’s fine.”

  Anna tried to ignore them, but they wouldn’t let up.

  “Want to borrow a wetsuit?”

  She just smiled back and finally they lost interest and moved off, certainly looking for girls closer to their own age to harass. She took a big deep breath, gathering her courage, then took two quick steps toward the water and launched out into the air, knifing down into the water like she used to do as a young girl racing for her college swim team. The icy shock almost took her breath away and she came quickly to the surface and let out a yell, “Yeeow!”

  She knew she needed to keep moving to allow her body to adapt to the cold chill of the lake and she started swimming a slow practiced stroke across the surface. She headed toward a long white boathouse on the north shore, passing navigation buoys and boats tied up at anchor buoys along the way. When she reached the boathouse, she stopped and looked up at the magnificent homes on the hill overlooking the harbor. The gardens were coming into bloom and the colors blended together in a soft canvas of brilliant hues.

  She started back towards the EmmaLee, her body now accustomed to the cold and feeling renewed and energized from the swim. She could see the EmmaLee’s long expansive hull and elegant lines up ahead and she stopped in wonder, just to look at the big ship. Treading water in the middle of the lake, she thought about her client, Alex Clark, and the incredible good fortune he had enjoyed in his business, now threatened by the betrayal and ineptitude of his friend, Louis Kramer. She often found herself struggling to put more personal thoughts about Alex from her mind. She had felt a strong physical and emotional attraction from the first time she had met him years ago in their first business meeting. Working as closely as she had with him over the years, they had come to know each other very well, but neither of them had ever tried to cross the precarious barrier that leads to intimacy.

  A feeling had been nagging at her ever since they had arrived in Charlevoix. There were, of course, all of the emotions and stress of the legal case she was attempting to defend for Alex, but there was also something deeper. She realized now, floating in the cold water of Round Lake with the spectacular scenery of the quaint little town of Charlevoix all around her and the incredible beauty of the EmmaLee floating there in front of her, the feeling that was gnawing at her was the harsh reality of jealousy.

  Alex and Sally sat together on the small launch as it made its way out to the EmmaLee. She held his hand in her lap and the memories of their lovemaking, just a short time before in the old boathouse, still sent a warm glow through her body. She looked over at the face of the man she had come to love and watched the wind blow his hair in random directions and the sunburn coming out on his cheeks from their earlier ride down to Horton Bay.

  He looked at her and smiled and he leaned over and kissed her. She felt the familiar wetness of his lips and she reached up and held his face close to let the kiss linger.

  “You are beautiful, Sally Clark.”

  She felt a flush across her face. “Thank you, dear, and I’m also very fortunate.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Fortunate to have found you.”

  He kissed her again and then the crewman slowed the launch as it approached the docking platform. Alex helped Sally out of the boat and as the launch pulled away, he noticed the swimmer coming towards them. “Who could that be?”

  “I think Megan’s probably still out with Becca,” said Sally. “It looks like Anna.”

  They both watched as Anna swam up to the platform and then stopping to look up, noticed Alex and Sally standing there.

  “Well, hello there,” she said.

  “Anna, a little cold swim to get the juices flowing?” Alex asked.

  “I think those juices may be frozen, but I’m certainly awake,” she said, treading water in the lake, sparkling drops of water hanging on her eyelashes and the ends of her ears, her hair swept straight back and shining.

  “Here, let me give you a hand,” he offered, reaching down and taking her hand to lift her out of the water. Sally stood back out of the way and Alex lifted her easily up out of the water. There was a towel on a small stool and Sally reached for it. She looked back and saw Anna standing there dripping and shivering, the wetness of her suit clinging tightly and almost transparently to every curve of her body. She threw the towel for her and then looked at Alex who seemed to be doing his best not to stare at the form of Anna Bataglia. She wasn’t sure she could blame him. What man wouldn’t be tempted to steal at least a quick glance.

  “Anna, we thought you might like to join us onboard for a little dinner cruise tonight,” Sally offered.

  “Of course, that would be fabulous. Thank you,” she answered. “I’ll need to change and get showered, but it shouldn’t take long.”

  “Take your time,” Alex said. “We won’t pull anchor for another hour or so, anyway.”

  Later, as the sun was setting over the hills of Charlevoix, Alex stood at the rail of the EmmaLee as it cruised slowly along the shores of the Belvedere Club. The classic summer homes were set against the trees along the bluff, the beach cabanas in a dozen pastel colors along the shore and the old pea soup green Casino sitting down near the channel.

  He had just ordered a vodka martini, Grey Goose, very dry with three olives. A server from the galley brought the drink to him and the glass was frosted cold and filled nearly to the top. He thanked the young woman, Mandy, and she left to go below. Anna and Sally were still getting dressed for dinner. He sipped the drink and swirled the cold smooth liquor around his tongue, enjoying the flavor and the aroma of the vodka. He thought back on the past few summers he had spent here with Sally and about what a blessing it had been in his life to find this woman. At times, the dark reminders of the death of his first wife would come back to him, the time with the cancer and the failing and the loss; the grief he and Megan had worked through and still had to work through on occasion. Sally had helped them both to fil
l some of that loss. She had experienced the pain of losing those close to her, even her young daughter in the boating accident with her parents. It was common ground for them, a place to share a sense of understanding and support.

  The meeting with Louis Kramer earlier in the day rushed back into his thoughts. His anger returned at the thought his former friend who he had placed so much trust in, had betrayed him so ruthlessly and now was using even more treachery. It hurt him deep in his gut that someone who had been that close to him for so many years, who had shared so much success, could have betrayed him so heartlessly.

  He thought it was strange, though, he didn’t feel more worried about the outcome of the investigation. He knew he had a good defense with Anna and her team, but it wasn’t just that. He didn’t feel threatened about losing money or a business. Maybe he was being naïve about all this, but he knew he had done nothing wrong and he felt confident in knowing inside he had always done the right thing when choices presented themselves. That had to count for something.

  He heard footsteps on the deck behind him and he turned to see Anna coming toward him. She was dressed in a flowing white dress cut just above the knees, thin straps revealing bare shoulders and white high-heeled sandals on her feet.

  “My, you look ready for summer,” he said. “That’s a beautiful dress.”

  “Thank you, only fitting for a cruise on the EmmaLee.”

  “Would you like a drink?”

  She nodded, asking for a glass of red wine. He went over to an intercom box and ordered two glasses of a favorite cabernet. Coming back to her he said, “Thank you for all the hard work on this defense.”

  “Yeah, this is tough duty,” she said, looking up at the beauty of the lakeshore, lights now coming on in the houses and along the streets. “How do you ever come back to the city?”

  He laughed and took another sip from his drink. “It’s very hard, trust me, it’s very hard.”