Death at Dawn

by Arthur Day

  The firm of Masstrict & Turner was in a low-slung glass and steel office building on Flower Street a few minutes from the town offices, so I stopped by after giving my statement.

  In my experience all law offices are the same. Efficient, modern with nondescript prints on the walls and beige carpeting and beige walls and a beige receptionist out front to chirp a greeting and offer coffee and ask that I be seated, and Mr. Masstrict will be right with me and then she pushes a button and speaks into the phone. After that there is silence broken only when the receptionist starts tapping on her computer while I stare at a dark wood paneled corridor that runs behind her desk and try to think good thoughts about getting home and maybe getting together with Dianne.

  “Good morning, Mr. McCaal.” Masstrict was a slim, handsome man who wore his brown hair cut short in a crew cut and who looked to be about thirty but was probably in his forties. Only his grey eyes betrayed the years spent shuffling papers and dealing with clients in and out of his office. He had an easy smile though. I hoped that meant that this meeting was not about something bad.

  I rose to meet him, and we shook hands. “I have good news for you, he told me and then turned and walked back into the corridor behind the receptionist’s desk. “If anyone calls the main number ask them if I can call back or put them into email Melissa.”

  The office, like the reception area was bland. The only things marking the man who occupied it were pictures of a pretty woman and two small children smiling for the camera. On the wall behind his desk was the obligatory creds from college and law school and the state of Connecticut. There were no folders or papers on his desk. He gestured to a comfortable looking chair opposite a small couch at one end of the office. “Please,” he said and walked over to the couch. “Would you like coffee or tea? The coffee here is really good. We work long hours, so it has to be.” He smiled as if sharing that condition with me.

  I declined the coffee. “So, what is it that you could not talk about over the phone?” My curiosity was peaking, and I was getting a little irritated with all the professional social niceties.

  “It’s nothing bad believe me. You are in the will of your ex-wife Pam Pease McCaal, so I wanted to go over it with you. I’ve found that talking about wills over the phone leads to false expectations and misunderstandings. I didn’t mean to sound mysterious on the phone. You and your former wife had a will done up by Burton & Dunlop down in New York. Excellent firm. I worked there for a few years. I think they handled your divorce as well. Anyway, they made a business decision to get out of the estate business. Evelyn Smith who handled your will down there recommended that Pam transfer papers and files to me and Pam took her advice named me as executor and eliminated you from the will.

  “So far it seems perfectly ordinary to me.”

  “Masstrict made a moue of his lips. “That is correct. Just another document to be kept until one of the originators dies.”

  This whole process was getting not only irritating but frustrating. This guy needed to get to the point. “So, you have the original will that Pam and I made when we were married?”

  “No.” Masstrict steepled his fingers and then leaned towards me over the coffee table that separated us. “She called about a month ago and said she wanted to make changes and that you and she were now divorced. Nothing unusual. Happens every day.”

  “So?”

  “When she came here, Mrs. McCaal seemed out of sorts, perhaps even afraid of something or someone. Her features were tight and her skin very pale. She seemed scared. She did not smile or even offer a greeting. It was as if she was being forced into doing something she did not want to do. I asked her if she was feeling well or if something was bothering her? Obviously, something was but she would not talk about it. She told me that if she were murdered that her estate should go to the person responsible for the capture of her killer. This was not your usual codicil, believe me.”

  “She didn’t say why she thought she might be murdered?”

  “No. She thought she was being stalked but she apparently did not know who was doing it. She said that she had been having horrible dreams that scared her to the point where she thought someone was after her and might kill her.” She was upset so I did not question her further but promised to make the change she wanted. She thanked me and then left as quickly and quietly as she had come.”

  “Did you contact the police?”

  “No. I had nothing concrete to tell them and the whole conversation was confidential so even if she had given me a name I would have needed a warrant to divulge it.” We do get some strange requests usually to do with a person’s will. People leave a small fortune to have their pet taken care of after their owner dies, for example. One left each of her children one dollar and the rest of her estate to a nudist colony.” Masstrict smiled as if to share the implication that people were not always rational when it came to deciding what to do with whatever was left after their death.

  I stared at the lawyer and Masstrict stared right back at me. We sat in silence for what seemed like a long time. “And now?” I asked.

  “I read about her murder in the paper, but I had no idea who had done it or whether the killer would be found and arrested. It was not until I read that you and another person had caught him that Mrs. McCaal’s will came into force. I checked with the sheriff and he confirmed what the paper reported that Warren had been charged with arson and attempted murder and the DA was looking to charge him with Mrs. McCaal’s murder as well. He said that the police have found a match between a partial print found on a bracelet worn by your wife and the murderer. If that holds up the entire estate will be split between you and Miss Vargas. I called her hoping to get you both here together, but she has not answered, and my calls have gone to voice mail. I have sent letters to both of you, but she has not responded to that either. If you are in touch with her, please have her give me a call. There is no immediate rush. There must be a trial of course and Warren must be judged guilty of Pam’s murder. Then the will needs to go through the probate process and that takes a while since it is a large estate with real estate in in different state.”

  I sat for a minute trying to process all of this. I knew Pam had money in addition to what she earned, but she never talked about it. We had a joint account and every month we directly deposited our paychecks and bonuses if any but anything beyond that was none of my business and I did not ask. If extra was needed for vacations or a really expensive item such as a new car she would put more into our checking account and that would be the end of it. That didn’t happen often. My wife was a modest person. She did not feel the need to collect more stuff than she needed to live comfortably. She worked hard for her paycheck and never felt the need to show her wealth or move in the social circles of her parents. In that we were in total agreement but now I had no idea what this possible inheritance could mean. How much money? What about the remains of the house in Compton? Many such questions occurred to me flooding me with thoughts of additional responsibilities I had neither asked for nor wanted. I wondered what Dianne would say to this and hoped that I could get together with her later that day. “What are we talking about,” I asked.

  Masstricht pursed his lips and then gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Her trust funds total about two million and she owns land in Vermont. although it has not been recently appraised might be worth as much as another half million. Then there is the house at Lake Compton though I understand it is destroyed but there is insurance and the land itself might be another five hundred thousand.”

  I pushed back into my chair. To say I was stunned was an understatement. Millions of dollars. Even splitting with Dianne and after taxes it would be a huge amount of money.

  “I see you had no idea what your wife, sorry, ex-wife was worth.”

  “No. It never crossed my mind, “I admitted.

  “As I said, it’s not a done deal yet but I should talk to Miss Vargas as I
have just talked with you.”

  “I will have her call you,” I replied.

  Dianne swished the ice cubes around in her glass and held it up in my direction. “Whaddya say there Mr. Man-of-the-hour? Think we deserve another?” We were settled in the living room of my little cabin in Mays Corners two days after capturing Warren. Dianne had gone back to her day job as if nothing had happened.

  “At least,” I replied and took her glass over to the table that served as a bar. My hands were trembling so badly that the top of the bottle tapped against the top of the glass. “One Jack coming up.” I handed her back the glass. “Nice work on that take-down. Warren never stood a chance.”

  “You provided the distraction and almost got wasted in the process,” she reminded me sharply. “By the way, how did you know Warren was even outside the house? He could have been anywhere.”

  “I got a call from a friend, Fred Finklestein, who lives next door. That afternoon I asked if he’d seen any unfamiliar cars or people. He said that he hadn’t, but he called to say that he had seen a strange car parked by the side of the road when he was walking down to pick up his mail. The rest was just an educated guess. I assumed he would try to shoot me and that’s why we set up the dummy and then got the hell outta Dodge.”

  “A good thing too. He might have missed with a gun, but he wasn’t going to take that chance.”

  “Buckmaster told me that another neighbor got shot while taking the sheriff to the spot where Warren was watching the house. His name was Worth, Doug Worth. I knew he was one of Pam’s cousins. She talked about that side of the family sometimes. They weren’t all that nice from what she said. Seemed to take her death pretty hard. Buckmaster says that he’ll be fine. The bullet went cleanly through his shoulder.” I sipped at my drink and felt relaxed for the first time in days. Closure is a wonderful thing when it leaves a person still alive. I looked to my left out the window at the woods beyond and wondered how the past can so often reappear and bite us on the ass. I had never heard of Warren until recently. He had been a part of Pam’s past and obviously a part that she found disagreeable. Suddenly my stomach knotted up and a cold sweat broke out and I started to tremble and, much to my embarrassment could not stop but sat there on the couch trembling and slopping my drink all over the place. It had been a close thing and only now was my body acknowledging that fact. I felt tears in my eyes and bent over my knees in an agony of reaction and embarrassment.

  Then arms went around my shoulders and I felt Dianne’s body pressing into mine. She said something, but I could not understand the words, only that they were soft and low. Christ, I thought, why couldn’t this happen when I am alone? What is Dianne thinking watching a grown man break down like a little boy?

  The memory of a time during my childhood ran through my mind. I walked to school each morning, Usually, a couple of kids from surrounding houses would join me and we would proceed to the school laughing and jokingly throwing insults at each other but there came a day when the other boys were off at appointments or sick and I walked to school by myself. An older boy, one Terrence ‘Monster’ Burley, who was rumored to have been born mean as a wild boar saw me as an easy target.

  “Whattcha doing McCaal?”

  “Nothing. Leave me alone Burley.”

  “Or what?”

  “Leave me alone.” I held my school books closer to my chest and tried to think of a way to get to school alive.

  “Whassa matter, little girl? Is little MJ scared? HMMMM?” Burley sneered and knocked the books out of my hands.

  “Don’t.” I bent to pick up the books and my papers that were starting to blow into the street. Burley took the opportunity to push me down and then jump on top with both fists flying. I had shown up in school with blood and snot and tears streaking my face. My clothes were dirty and torn and I no longer had a geography assignment to turn in. I felt as if I had let everyone down. I should have been able to deal with Burley. I swore to myself that I would never be in that position again. I did not know that my mother had reamed Tom Burley’s dad a new asshole and threatened a lawsuit and a story in the paper if the father did not cover expenses and control his son. I had seen Burley in school after that, but the boy never came near me again.

  The memory passed almost immediately, and I came back to the present and wondered dully if Dianne would ever want to talk with me again. I sat up and there she was still sitting beside me, her arm around my shoulders staring at me. “Feel better?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Nothing to be sorry for as far as I’m concerned. I’ve had times when I felt and acted just as you did. Like I said, nothing to be sorry for.”

  Suddenly we were face to face and my lips met Dianne’s although I had not intended to do so. I did not pull away and neither did she. It was probably a matter of seconds but seemed much longer. She smelled of lavender soap and her lips were soft and molded themselves to my mouth as our tongues met. I had no thoughts then but, thinking back on that moment, I think that whatever doubts I might have had about her sexuality vanished as her arm brought me to her and stroked my cheek. I touched one of her breasts gently rubbing though the material of her shirt. She sighed and, looking at me with a small, sad smile as if we had decided to both jump off a cliff together, pulled away slightly and unbuttoned her shirt exposing small breasts unencumbered by a bra.

  We parted slightly. “Dianne, I…I mean why?”

  Dianne smiled. “Because now my sun rises in the east and sets in the west.”

  I looked at her, totally confused and feeling momentarily at a loss to understand what she said. I wanted to talk with her, to find out what this strange, exotic woman was all about and tell her what I was feeling and why and at first no words would come and when I finally thought of something intelligent to say She touched my lips with a forefinger. “We are what we are MJ. No need to talk. We either accept the other or not.” She stood up, unbuckled her belt and pushed her pants down around her feet. She was fully erect. A small blue vein ran along the side of her penis and it trembled slightly with excitement. Dianne stepped out of her pants, beckoned me with a finger and then turned and padded silently across to the door to the bedroom. What’s a man to do? I followed.

  Later, feeling totally relaxed and at peace, I went into the main room and returned with two snifters of Jack Single Barrel. She smiled at me and suddenly whatever emotion had taken over my body dissipated, and I found myself once again on level ground far from the precipice over which I had been standing. I raised my glass and Dianne hers and we clinked.

  “To our noble selves,” I toasted.

  DIANNE

  So he came behind me and I could feel his presence as if he were a shadow, my shadow and still I walked on and sat down on the bed and looked up at where he stood before me like a tree bent with the force of the storm but still standing and would be for ages oncoming simply standing as if the act alone would confirm his purpose on earth and he looked so serious standing there before me as trees should look I suppose as if he made a decision and now wondered if it was the right one, he who had trembled and cried a moment before and when I went to comfort him we came together as one and I knew that it was time to be him and for him to be me as much as that could ever be and so I walked away naked as the day I came and he came behind without a word perhaps not knowing words or perhaps we had moved beyond that

  And then I suddenly wanted a shot of anything, sour mash bourbon Russian vodka French vodka English gin bathtub gin dark rum light rum Jamaican rum red wine white wine moonshine scotch Irish Japanese whiskeys triple sec crème de menthe cognac brandy even dago red for I thought maybe I had done something that would forever push apart the one that had been MJ and I and we would find ourselves on opposite sides of a sexual crevasse with no way of bridging it and afterwards I would feel guilty that I had made the offer and he well I don’t know what he might have thought
and still he stood there and I got to my feet and we looked at each other and no words were spoken as I reached across the gap that seemed a mile wide and began unbuttoning his shirt and he took my hands in his and kissed them very gently as a snowflake might kiss me on one of those winter days when they seem to slowly walk down from the sky gray heaven

  We stood nose to nose with eyes looking into the other’s and thoughts jumbling around like a midway crowd at the carny until it seemed impossible to do anything and we would become mannequins stuck in a window dressed and undressed waiting for someone with fabric and pins to drape us to advantage as people walking by stared and tittered. I ran my hand down his chest through the brown and gray hairs over the ridges of scar tissue that I caressed as evidence of a life spent fighting and identifying with a couple of my own.

  I lay down on the bed and MJ lay down next to me stiffly, silently staring up at the ceiling. I could almost feel his muscles tensing as his mind dealt with a situation for which it was not prepared, and I felt for him because a scar on my leg was a permanent reminder of a man who thought he was in love with me until he reached beneath my skirt. Relax I murmur to him and to myself for I could feel the electricity of human lust coursing through me, a stream rolling into a river down to the darkening sea. Relax I tell him, and MJ looked at me and said he was, but he wasn’t, so I turned on my side and ran my hands lightly across his body pressing here and there where the muscles were in a state of rebellion. I could feel them gathering in battalions and divisions. Relax relax there is no hurry and we do not need to do anything but be together so relax relax, and know that you are a stranger in my world, but I will guide you if you will let me, if you will trust me not to hurt you or take you someplace from which you cannot return. Relax and know that there is no time, no place no past but only now this second this minute and feel my hands caress you and put your hand on my breast oh yes yes that feels so good, so warm and soft and feel my skin tighten to your touch. Relax now while I undo your belt. This is not wrong. This is not perverted. This is not perverse. Banish such thoughts and just relax and then he turns on his side and we are face to face so close that I can feel his breath on my face, a warm zephyr, an angels caress and I bring my arms around him and say yes yes you can and then he kissed me and I thought nothing but the eternity of momentary fulfillment and we turned back to stare at the ceiling and I felt more than saw as he wiggled out of his pants and turned back towards me and I went down on the hard saltiness of his cock and turned so that mine was by his face and there was Kara in my mind smiling at me across the roof of her dollhouse and there was Peter, another friend of my youth, who cheered me on and made sure that I completed my journey but then he drifted away so far away to a place I could not follow to another whom he married and now happy with kids. There were all the times with him that I laughed and felt as if there was nothing that I could not do and I could conquer the world and end all the hunger and misery and I came to MJ and I knew he would be good like that and we would be good like that and we would have a friendship known by few and desired by all and I said yes into his chest and yes into his arms smiling.