The Summer Town

by Michael Lindley

  The sheriff unbuckled the holster for his gun and walked into the barn. Light from a side window let enough light in he could see a rusted old tractor parked in the back. The smell of manure and rotting hay was overpowering, and he covered his nose. He walked back out into the light and the fresh air. The Slayton house looked like it could fall over in the next big wind.

  Sammy Truegood was working up in the big cruiser being built for the Fitzgibbons family. He was finishing up on some wiring for the electrical system. The bandage on this right hand from hitting Connor Harris was giving him some trouble. This was his first day back at work since the incident at the beach and when he arrived earlier in the morning his co-workers were cool at best. Most just turned and ignored him when he came in. His boss, Pete Borders, was the shop supervisor and had always been a big supporter for Sammy. He was an old grizzled local who had worked on boats his entire life. Jonathan hired him away from a bigger company down in Cadillac a few years ago.

  When he saw Sammy come in that morning, he walked over and pulled the boy aside. “I know Mr. McKendry wants you back at work, but I don’t want no trouble from any of this getting’ in the way of the work. You hear me?”

  Sammy had just nodded and gone over to sign in on his timecard and then climbed up into the Fitzgibbons boat to go to work. The other workers kept their distance. Occasionally, Sammy heard whispers and when he’d look over, they would turn away.

  Later that morning, Sammy heard his named called. He went over to the side of the boat and saw Jonathan McKendry standing there. “Sammy, come on down. I need to speak with you.”

  The two walked together out through the big boathouse door and stood in the wet gravel, dark clouds still moving low over the buildings.

  “Sammy, you doing okay?” Jonathan asked.

  He looked up at the man who had been so kind to him these past couple of years, the man who had given him this opportunity in life. The McKendry’s had become close friends with his family over the years and Dr. McKendry always dropped Christmas presents by their house, and occasionally a loaf of fresh bread she had baked.

  “Mr. McKendry, I’ll tell you, I’ve definitely been better,” Sammy said.

  “I know, son.”

  “I just keep asking myself why these people are doing this to me, making up these charges and all. You know I didn’t do any of this, Mr. McKendry?”

  “Yes, I know, but you’re going to have to be real strong through all this. A lot of people have got their minds made up about what happened out there that night. You need to keep faith the truth will all come out.”

  “Thanks for having me back to work,” Sammy said.

  “The boys giving you any trouble in there?” Jonathan asked.

  “No, I’ll be alright. I better get back. Old Pete will come looking for me.”

  Jonathan laughed and said, “I’ll take care of old Pete. You get back in there. We need to get this boat in the water by the end of the week.”

  “Thanks Mr. McKendry.” He walked back into the boathouse and climbed the ladder up into the Fitzgibbons boat, the smell of fresh varnish and sawdust sweet in the air.

  Jennifer Harris came out of a clothing store along Bridge Street with her friend Elaine. Both had bags with new purchases in their hands and Jennifer carried an umbrella, although the rain had stopped over an hour ago. The sidewalks were crowded in spite of the weather and the two girls moved out into the flow of the summer people shopping along the main commercial district of Charlevoix.

  Jennifer looked up ahead and saw a family she recognized, the Fitzgibbons; Mrs. Fitzgibbons and her three daughters, all in high school, but younger than Jennifer. The woman saw her, and Jennifer saw a strange look came across her face as she slowed and put her arms out, as if she was trying to protect her daughters. Jennifer and Elaine continued to walk up to them. Jennifer felt the familiar emptiness inside coming back.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Fitzgibbons,” she said.

  The woman just stared back at her for a moment and the three daughters all remained silent as well. Jennifer could see they were startled and maybe even a little afraid. She nodded to the girls. Elaine stood quietly beside her.

  “It’s nice to see all of you,” Jennifer continued.

  Finally, the woman spoke. With a sharp edge she said, “Jennifer Harris, you should be ashamed of yourself!”

  “Excuse me?” Jennifer said, the feeling of her heart sinking in her chest growing stronger.

  “You’ve embarrassed your family and all of us summer people…”

  “Mrs. Fitzgibbons!” Elaine said loudly, interrupting the woman. “You have no right to say that!”

  Jennifer held up her hand to quiet her friend. “Elaine, it’s alright.” She looked back at the woman and her three daughters who had always been so pleasant and friendly with her. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Fitzgibbons and I’m sorry for what’s happened.”

  “Well, I guess,” the woman said and then she made a great flourish in herding her daughters around Jennifer and Elaine and on down the sidewalk.

  Jennifer turned to watch them walk away. Images from the night on the beach flashed back in her mind as they had been so often in the past few days; swimming with Sammy and Elaine, the big bonfire, the bottles of whiskey. The thought of the whiskey made her shiver and she tried again to force her mind to remember what had happened up in the dunes.

  Sara Slayton sat in an old wicker chair on the porch of their house playing with her favorite doll, taking its worn dress off and then putting it on again, brushing at the doll’s hair with her fingers. It was hard with the cast on her arm, but she was managing. She had been out there since the deputy left over an hour ago.

  The clouds from the morning’s rain were breaking apart and patches of blue were showing through the dark clouds. Rolling waves of sunshine moved slowly across the muddy front lawn and then the gray shadows would come again. The little girl looked up when she heard the sound of a car’s engine. Her father’s battered and rusted truck was coming up the front drive splashing brown water out of the puddles. She could just see the outline of her father through the glare of the windshield.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Alex Clark sat on the deck of the EmmaLee, wrapped up in a heavy cotton robe, drinking his coffee as morning forced its way upon the quiet little harbor. His hair was going in all directions and a dull ache in his temple was a reminder of one too many bottles of wine from the previous night. He sat staring at the other boats anchored across Round Lake and the long white boathouse over towards the Chicago Club, but it was all in soft focus because he was thinking about the trouble he was facing with his business and the betrayal of his partner, Louis Kramer.

  Then he remembered Sally’s comments just before they turned in last night about his lawyer, Anna Bataglia, and her suspicions Anna was holding some attraction for him. He sipped from his coffee mug and leaned his head back to let the warmth of it work its way down. Anna was a damn attractive woman, he thought, and he couldn’t deny he found her attractive; her intelligence and savvy; certainly, her physical attributes. But he had never approached the issue with her over the many years they had worked together. She was married most of that time, as he had been until his wife died a few years before he met Sally. He was not surprised to hear of Anna’s supposed interest in him. There had always been something between the two of them, just below the surface; a place neither of them had ever chosen to approach.

  He looked up when Anna came up from below and walked over to him, taking a chair next to his. She was wearing a black jogging suit with white stripes down the outside of her legs and arms. Her hair was only slightly less disheveled than his, tied back with a black ribbon, loose ends going in all directions.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Good morning, Alex.” She sat down slowly as if there were eggs on the cushion that might break.

  “Late night, eh counselor?”

  “Yes, much too late,” Anna said. “Did som
eone just open up my mouth last night and pour a barrel of wine down my throat?”

  Alex laughed and reached for the carafe on the small table between them. “Coffee?”

  “How about some morphine for this headache. Yeah, I’ll have some coffee.” She reached for the other mug and held it up while he poured.

  “Sally tells me the two of you had an interesting conversation last night,” he said.

  Anna looked over at him with a puzzled expression. “What was that?”

  Alex started to have second thoughts about even bringing it up, but what the hell, he thought. “Is there something between you and me we need to talk about?” he asked.

  “About the defense?”

  “About you and me,” Alex said.

  He could see Anna’s mind working quickly to respond. He rarely saw her lose her composure like this. Maybe it’s the hangover.

  “Alex, there’s no time for this now. We need to stay focused on the investigation.”

  “I didn’t bring it up.”

  “Look, I’m sorry if I upset Sally last night. I had too much to drink and I got stupid. I’m sorry.”

  “Is that all it was?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer right away, but just looked back at him. They both turned when Sally came around the corner of the cabin wall.

  “Hey, good morning,” Alex said.

  Sally came over and pulled another chair up, forming a small circle of the three of them. She already had a cup of coffee in her hands. The air was still cool from the previous night and goose bumps stood out on her bare legs beneath the khaki shorts she was wearing. “Morning, all.”

  “Good morning, Sally,” Anna said. “I think I owe you an apology for last night.”

  “Anna…” Sally started.

  “No, really I’m sorry. I was just telling Alex I get stupid when I have too much wine.”

  Sally looked back at her for a few moments, trying to read any deeper meaning or intent in her words. “Let’s just put it behind us, fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” Anna replied.

  Alex cleared his throat, not because he was trying to get anyone’s attention, but because he was still feeling the effects of the wine. “Anna, what’s the plan today?” he asked.

  Anna took a deep breath to gather herself and clear her mind. “I’m waiting for a couple of callbacks this morning on the inquiries I made yesterday on some of our friend, Louis’s, little surprises. We should spend some time later this morning, or first thing this afternoon. Then, I really need to get back to New York tonight, or as early as possible in the morning. I have to cover a lot of ground tomorrow.”

  “If you don’t need me, I’d like to stay a few more days,” he said.

  “That should be fine. We can talk by phone if necessary.”

  “Let me call the service and see when we can get the plane back here tonight,” he offered.

  “Thank you, that would be great,” Anna said.

  “Honey, what have you got planned for the day?” he asked.

  Sally said, “We should try to spend some time with Megan, maybe take a picnic somewhere on the little Emma.”

  “That’s a great idea. I haven’t seen my daughter for more than five seconds since I got into town.”

  “I heard her come in a little late last night, so I’m sure she’s still sleeping,” Sally said.

  Anna stood up. “If you two will excuse me, I need a shower and a bottle of aspirin. I’ll call you a little later, Alex.”

  “Fine, I’ll have my cell with me.”

  She walked away and disappeared into a side cabin door. Alex watched her leave and then noticed Sally watching him. “I tried to clear the air with her this morning, about last night.”

  “And what did she have to say?” Sally asked.

  “She apologized for having too much to drink and said we really need to keep focused on the investigation.”

  “But she didn’t deny her feelings?” Sally asked.

  Alex sat forward in his chair and reached for her hand. “Sally, whatever personal feelings she may have for me or anyone else are secondary right now and she knows it. She’s a professional and will not do anything to jeopardize the defense we’re preparing, or frankly, to jeopardize her biggest client’s relationship with his wife who he loves very much.”

  “I saw you watching that tight little bottom of hers,” Sally teased.

  Alex squirmed and shook his head. “Guilty as charged,” he said. “It’s a man thing, we just can’t help ourselves.”

  “Alex, I trust you and I love you. It’s Anna Bataglia I’m worried about.”

  Louis Kramer waited while the phone rang, sitting on a deck chair on the front porch of his wife’s lake house. A voice answered at the other end. It was their company’s financial manager, Bobby Littlefair. His voice sounded groggy and distant. “Hey, it’s Lou.”

  “This better be important, it’s two o’clock in the morning here,” Littlefair said.

  “Where are you?” Louis asked.

  “I’d rather not say on an open line. What do you need?”

  “Our friend, Alberto, came to visit yesterday.”

  “You still in Charlevoix?” Littlefair asked.

  “Yeah, but I’m heading back to the city tomorrow.”

  “What did Manta want?”

  “What do you think, he wants his money,” Louis said.

  “The stock has been suspended on the exchange. He can’t sell any shares.”

  “He doesn’t want to sell shares. He wants us to cash him out and make him whole in the process.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a few moments. “What, ten million dollars?”

  “In round numbers,” Kramer said.

  “Did you tell him to go to Hell?”

  “Yeah right, you don’t talk to Alberto Manta like that if you want to stay on the right side of the dirt.” Louis swallowed hard. “Can’t we pull some money out of one of the other companies?”

  Littlefair choked on the other end of the line. “Shit, we’re looking at 25 to life for what’s already gone down and you want to pull some more crap like that.”

  “You can make the paperwork come out right; you’re a magician, Bobby.”

  “I’m not digging this whole any deeper, Lou.”

  “Look, Manta is serious. We need to cash him out of this.”

  “There is no way, Kramer!” The Feds have everything locked down. We can’t sniff near any of those accounts without sirens going off.”

  Louis felt his gut rumble. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Look, I need to get some sleep,” Littlefair said.

  “You need to come home, Bobby.”

  “My lawyer’s working on it.”

  Sheriff Elam Stone walked through the door to the law offices of Hansen and MacGregor. Bill MacGregor had been taking over the practice from George for the past ten years, but George had kept working on a few cases that interested him. MacGregor met the sheriff in the lobby when he heard the bell over the door ring. They went back to a small conference room.

  “Coffee, Elam?”

  “No thanks, Bill. I’ve had my four cups already this morning.”

  They both sat down. “What can I help you with, Sheriff?”

  “A couple more questions since we talked the other day. You ever heard of a man named Vince Slayton?”

  MacGregor thought for a moment and then shook his head, “Don’t believe I have.”

  “So, you don’t know if George had any dealings with the man?”

  “He may have. I never knew everything George was working on.”

  “Any way you can check?” the sheriff asked.

  “I’ve been through the files and I don’t recall anything about a Vince Slayton.”

  Stone put his hat down on the table and fidgeted with the brim. “Any chance I can take a look at those files, Bill?”

  “You know that’s privileged information between lawyer and client, Elam.�
�

  “Right. Again, like we talked about the other day, nothing in those files, or anything George had been working on that would have him on the wrong side of the wrong people?”

  “No, really, Elam, it was pretty ordinary stuff."

  Connor Harris walked into the darkly lit den of their summer home. Richly stained mahogany paneled walls were framed with tall bookshelves filled with novels and business books and family mementos. His son, Dylan, sat behind the big desk, a cell phone to his ear, papers spread out in front of him. Dylan was fifty-four years old now and Connor noticed his age was beginning to show with lines along his face, sagging cheek lines and touches of gray in his hair. His mother had not aged particularly well either, he thought. They divorced twenty years ago, and he’d rarely seen her since. The last he’d heard she was living with a retired dentist in a little beachfront condo on Clearwater Beach. Good riddance! Dylan had been running the family’s real estate development business since his father had been sent away to prison, but Connor had kept an active hand for the years since he’d been released.

  Dylan looked up when he saw his father walk into the room and he gestured for him to wait a moment and grab one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. When he finished his conversation and put the phone down, he took a long sip from his coffee. “Hey, Pop.”

  “The plans come in?” Connor asked.

  “Yeah, I was just looking at them. Fed Ex came about an hour ago.”

  “What do you think?”

  “The planning commission is still going to have issues with how this lays out on the property with this wetlands bullshit,” Dylan said, pointing to an area on the building site plans laid out in front of them. “If we don’t use every buildable acre of this land, we can’t put enough units into the project to make the numbers work.”

  “I know.” Connor said. “How do we stand with the commission and how they’ll come down on this?”

  “It’s too damn close, plus the resident association adjoining the property is still raising hell.”

  Connor got up and walked over to a window looking out on the side yard of the property. “You know we need to make this work,” he said, looking back at his son.