“No, thank you. I just wanted to check on everyone and to let you know I finally got in touch with someone from the Public Health department. They agreed it was okay to let Sara stay with you for a while, at least until they can get the case processed and look for a foster home or some responsible relatives.”
“A foster home!” Emily said. “She needs people who will love her and take care of her.”
“Emily, I know how you feel, but we need to let the system take its course here,” George said.
“A lot of good that’s done up ‘til now,” she replied.
Jonathan leaned against the counter by the sink. “No sign of Slayton yet?”
“No, I saw Potts when I left the hospital and nothing yet.”
“What’s gonna happen here, George?” Jonathan asked.
“When they find him, I’m sure he’ll be charged with at least third-degree murder. Not much question he did this. I doubt there will be any bail, so he may be locked up for the rest of his life, or damned close to it.”
“Thank God,” Emily said.
Harold Slayton drove through the little town of Boyne City past the Dilworth Hotel and the row of small shops on the main street. He saw the neon sign for the Boyne River Inn and was tempted to stop for a drink. His pint bottle was dry, and he needed a drink badly, but he also was coherent enough to realize he couldn’t be seen in public. He kept on through town and turned right at the lake on the road back to Charlevoix.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Louis Kramer got up from the dinner table with his wife. The cook came in to clear dishes and they both took unfinished glasses of wine out on to the front deck of the house. The breeze off the lake was still blowing gently and with only an hour of light left, the low sun washed everything in the soft glow of the fading day. Louis looked out across the lake with a vacant stare, sipping on his wine.
“Lou, you haven’t said two words all through dinner,” Mary Alice said.
He didn’t hear her, or chose not to respond.
“Louis!”
He turned his head slowly as she came up next to him by the deck rail. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“What the hell’s the matter?” she said.
“What do you think is the matter,” he said with disgust and then started walking down the steps to the front lawn.
“Louis, where are you going?”
“I need to take a ride.”
“We have people coming over to play cards in an hour.”
He held up his hand and waved as he walked down to the lake. She kept yelling at him, but he wasn’t listening. His mind was locked on his last phone conversation with Alberto Manta. There was no way he was going to have the money to wire to Manta’s accounts by tomorrow morning. He was in debt up to his neck in his other businesses. His personal investments had all been used to help fund this latest venture with Alex Clark. Mary Alice had a trust fund and her parents had money but nothing close to what he needed. Alex sure as hell won’t bail me out!
He walked out onto the dock and two swans feeding nearby on the bottom of the lake moved slowly away, hissing when he first approached. Putting his empty wine glass down on the top of one of the dock posts, he jumped over the side of the big cruiser and went below to the bar. When he opened the cabinet for the liquor, he was faced with a number of choices. An unopened bottle of vodka caught his eye and he grabbed it and walked quickly back up on deck. He had planned to take the cruiser out because it had the most liquor on board but decided that was too much work to get underway.
He climbed out and went over to the little ski boat and hit the button for the power hoist to lower it down into the lake. A few minutes later he was steering out into Lake Charlevoix, the bottle of vodka now open on his lap. With no destination in mind, he pushed the throttle down to three quarter speed and the little boat quickly sped away into the glare of the setting sun. Steering with his left hand, he took a long slow drink from the bottle and then choked as it burned down his throat. Then he took another.
The hostess at the Argonne Supper Club led Alex and Sally to a table out on the side porch. They sat down, and Alex ordered drinks while Sally looked quickly through the menu. Then she wondered why she was even bothering because she knew they always ordered their oysters and shrimp.
She was still upset about Anna kissing her husband goodbye at the airport. At least Alex was noble enough to tell me about it, she thought. In a way, she knew she shouldn’t worry about it. Alex would take care of it and she trusted him to deal with the situation. But, something about this woman continued to make her uneasy. She obviously was not someone who liked to take no for an answer and she and Alex would be spending a lot of time together in the coming weeks back in New York. While I’m sitting here in sleepy Charlevoix.
“I hope you’re not still stewing about Anna?” Alex said.
She looked at him and smiled. “Of course not.”
“You know, I’m worried about Megan seeing this Will kid with the stolen car and all,” he said.
The waitress brought their drinks and placed them down on cocktail napkins. Alex ordered the house specialty with family style orders of steamed and batter-fried shrimp. The girl took the menus and headed back to the kitchen.
“I truly doubt Will Truegood would steal a car and leave it in front of his house,” Sally said. “It’s just too bad Megan’s caught in the middle with her old friends. If Rick really did take this car to set Will up, Megan’s better off without him, but I just can’t believe he would be that stupid.”
“Jealousy has a strange way with people,” he said looking at her with a smirk on his face.
She threw a small piece of bread at him and said, “I’m not jealous!”
“I know, I’m just kidding. I’m sorry,” he said and tried to stop laughing. “I don’t know this Rick very well. He seemed like a nice enough kid last summer when we spent some time with him and his parents, but teenage boys can be a handful. I know, I used to be one.”
“At times, I think you still are,” she said, and he threw the piece of bread back at her.
“Alright, peace,” she said, holding up her hands. “I just wish there was something we could do to help Megan.”
“Well thank you for that. I love that you care so much for my daughter.”
“You know I love her like my own,” she said and then immediately thoughts of her lost daughter, Ellen, came back to her.
Alex could see the look on her face. He had come to know his wife very well. “You must be thinking of Ellen?”
Sally nodded and reached for her drink, her eyes growing moist.
“We knew Megan would never totally fill that space, but I’m glad you both have each other now,” he said.
“It’s been wonderful having Megan to love and care for …and worry about,” Sally said and tried unsuccessfully to laugh her tears away.
Megan had dropped Will at the beach in Horton Bay earlier and returned to Charlevoix. After she tied the boat up at the city shopping docks, she met Rebecca, who she had called earlier to come down to pick her up.
“Thanks for coming,” Megan said.
“I hope you know what you’re doing. Rick is really pissed,” Rebecca said.
Megan didn’t answer as they got into Rebecca’s car.
“Actually, everyone’s pissed at you. No one can believe you’re accusing Rick of taking this car and then taking Will’s side against him.”
“Becca, I know,” Megan said. “Can you please just take me up to Melissa’s house?”
“Is she there?”
“I called her before you picked me up.”
Rebecca pulled into the drive at the Wainwright’s house. The lights were on in most of the rooms in the big summer house. Melissa’s red convertible was parked in a pull-off to the side.
“You can just drop me, thanks,” Megan said. “I can walk back to Sally’s house later.”
“What are you planning to pull with Melissa?” Rebecca asked.
“
I think I’ll beat the crap out of her!”
“Megan!”
“I’m kidding.” She got out and closed the door and her friend pulled away. Melissa came out on the front porch to meet her. She must not want Momma and Daddy to hear this conversation, Megan thought.
“Hey Megan.”
She didn’t return the greeting and simply said, “Let’s take a walk.”
They walked together down the drive and then turned right on the sidewalk going down Dixon Avenue. Tall oaks lined the street on both sides forming a giant canopy. Lights were on in most of the big houses along the street.
They had gone almost a block before Melissa broke the silence. “Megan, I really don’t want to talk about this car thing anymore. I told you what happened.”
Megan stopped and turned to face the girl, grabbing her by both arms. “Alright, let’s cut the bull here, Melissa,” she said, letting her voice rise in anger. “I’ve had enough of you all trying to hurt Will and I’ve gone to the police.”
“You did what!”
Megan didn’t have much practice lying, but she continued on as best she could. “They should be up to question you first thing in the morning.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Melissa said, the panic in her face clear in the light from a nearby streetlamp.
“Melissa, they’re really upset about all of you lying about this. It’s a crime to provide a false police report.”
Melissa pulled away and started walking again. Megan caught up and said, “You do not want to go to jail, Melissa.”
The girl stopped suddenly and looked at Megan for a moment, breathing hard. “They said it was going to be a joke.”
Megan could have jumped out of her skin, but she tried to remain calm and impassive. “A joke?”
“Rick said he wanted to play a joke on this Indian kid who had been hanging around you. I’m sorry, Megan. I guess I thought it would be funny.”
“Funny!”
“I guess I just didn’t think. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t be serious!” Megan said. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I said I’m sorry, Megan!”
Megan took her arm again and started leading her back toward her house. “You and I are going down to the police station right now and get this cleared up.”
“What are they going to do?”
“You are going to drop the charges.”
“Will they arrest me?”
“Not if you tell them the truth and I’m going to be right there to make sure you do!”
Connor Harris was smoking a cigar out on the front porch of their summer house. He watched a couple stroll by under the streetlamp and he reached out to flick some ashes down into the bushes. Can’t even smoke in my own damn house anymore.
His mind was spinning with desperation and panic. Since he’d been released from jail for his past sins, he had tried to help his son get the business back on track. Every move they’d made over the past few years seemed to have turned out wrong and they were now hanging by a thin string. Even the summer house here in Charlevoix has a damn mortgage!
He thought about his son Dylan and he knew the man wasn’t capable of pulling this new deal together. I’ve helped him as much as I could up until now …more than he will ever know, actually.
Chapter Thirty
Connor Harris always had a blind eye for the truth, and I’m not sure I ever met a more stubborn man, certainly none more angry.
… the summer of 1952.
Jennifer Harris returned home and pulled into the driveway in Andy Welton’s car. It was just past eleven o’clock and she hoped everyone in her house would be asleep. During the short ride home, her mind had been spinning about Sammy Truegood. Tears continued to run down her face. Why was he there? Why did he beat Andy so badly? Why had he helped her?
She walked through the back door into the kitchen as quietly as she could and then stopped suddenly when she saw her brother, Connor, sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper. He looked up when she came in and immediately noticed the tears streaking her face. He stood up quickly and walked over to her.
“What the hell’s happened now?”
“Connor, just leave me alone. I need to go to bed.”
He grabbed her arm to stop her from passing. “First you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”
She pulled her arm away and looked up at her brother and then realized he would find out by morning anyway. It occurred to her Andy might be hurt badly and maybe someone should go back to find him. She also knew her family would be furious with her for going down to another drunken beach party.
The look on her brother’s face grew deathly serious. “Jennifer?”
She started to worry even more about Andy. It could be hours before the rest of the kids at the beach came up the trail to go home, or what if he rolled over into the woods and passed out? They would never see him. “There was a fight down at the beach,” she finally said.
“Who was fighting?”
Jennifer hesitated for a moment, quickly trying to figure out how best to tell the story and how to reveal as little as possible about the details. “It was Andy, down at North Point,” she said.
“Andy and who else?”
Jennifer felt her stomach churn; she didn’t want to open all the trouble with Sammy Truegood again, but she knew it was just a matter of time until everyone knew. “It was Sammy,” she said quietly.
Connor immediately tensed and grabbed her arm again. “What has that little shit done now?”
Jennifer still wasn’t sure what had happened, or why, but she knew she had to tell the truth as best she could. “He was trying to help me.”
“Help you!”
“Andy was drunk, and he wouldn’t bring me home. He kept trying to stop me on the trail and then all of a sudden Sammy was there, and he tried to get Andy to let me go.” She couldn’t hold back her tears. “I think Andy might be hurt.”
“How bad?” Connor said, the look on his face growing more furious.
“I don’t know,” she said, “I just don’t know.”
“Why did you leave him down there?” her brother asked.
“I just wanted to get home. I was supposed to be home by eleven.”
Connor shook her to get her to look at him. “Where were the other kids down there?”
“Down at the beach. Everyone was drinking. I just wanted to get out of there and Andy wouldn’t take me home.”
“Why was the Truegood kid there?” Connor asked.
“I said I don’t know!” she cried out.
Connor went to the counter and picked up a set of keys. “You and I are going down there.
Sammy Truegood opened the side door to his house and tried to enter quietly, but he tripped over a pail they’d used for mopping up the mess. He heard his mother coming back to the kitchen. He watched her mouth drop when she saw him. He could only imagine what he looked like after the fight with Welton. When he pulled his hand down from the back of his head, blood had run down the length of his arm to his elbow, some still wet and shining in the dim light of the kitchen. His mother gasped and held her hands up to her mouth. She rushed over to him.
“Sammy, what’s happened?”
He walked by her to the sink and started trying to rinse the blood off his hands.
“Sammy?” his mother asked again and when she came up behind him, she saw the blood caked on the back of his hair. “Ohmigod, son!”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Sammy, you tell me what’s happened,” she said as she started to delicately look through the mat of his hair to check the wound.
He flinched away when she touched the raw gash opened from Welton’s attack.
“We need to get you to a doctor.”
“No!” he said abruptly. “I said I’ll be alright.” He had rinsed as much of the blood away from his hands as he could without further scrubbing. The bandages on his right hand were soaked and the knuckles bene
ath were throbbing in pain. “Momma, just do what you can to put something on this,” he said, reaching up to the back of his head with his other hand.
She hurried out of the room to get bandages and he sat down on a chair at the small table in the kitchen. He looked around at the mess yet to be cleaned up in their house and his anger flared again as he thought about Andy Welton and his friends. He shuddered when he remembered how enraged he’d become just moments ago in the fight with Welton and then a cold fear rushed through him when he thought about what all of this would do with the charges already hanging over him.
His mother came back into the kitchen with towels and some bandages and she started dabbing at the wound on his head. “Sammy, you need to tell me what’s happened here.”
He knew the truth would only upset her more and he said quietly, “Somebody jumped me down on the trail to the beach.”
She came around to look at him and pulled his chin up. “Who would do that?”
He hesitated for a moment and then just shook his head, looking back down at the floor.
Harold Slayton drove slowly through town. He didn’t think reports of a stolen truck would have reached there yet, but he didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself. He knew he needed to get back out to his farm and if the cops weren’t there, he was going to get some food and a gun and some ammunition. Memories of the events that led up to the fight with his wife were fuzzy in his brain from the whiskey, but he remembered Agnes screaming at him to stop and then he pushed her. She fell and hit her head and didn’t move again. Sara had run out of the cabin and then he heard the men coming up the drive and he had hurried out the back door. He watched from the woods as the sheriff and that McKendry fellow had come up to the old shack.
He thought again about his little girl, Sara, and a dark, irrational anger swept over him. They had taken his daughter away from him again, he thought, mindless to the fact he had just killed the girl’s mother.
“I need to get home,” George said to Emily and Jonathan.
The Summer Town Page 26
