Not a Happy Family

by Shari Lapena

  She’s so lost in thought that she arrives in Dan’s suburb in Aylesford before she knows it. And maybe she’s been pressing the gas to the floor, anxious to get there. She sees Catherine’s car in Dan’s driveway and spots Ted’s on the street—they must have arrived separately. She recognizes another car parked on the street—Irena’s old clunker. But then she sees another car she recognizes and feels a stab of annoyance. It belongs to her aunt Audrey, her father’s irritating sister. What the fuck is she doing here? They don’t want her here. Not yet.

  She parks her own car on the street and walks up the driveway. She can see them all gathered in the living room through the large window. She doesn’t bother to knock, but walks right in. They’re expecting her.

  As soon as she enters the room, it’s obvious she’s interrupting something. Catherine is seated in an armchair, her face strained; Ted is by her side, on a dining-room chair that’s been pulled up next to her. Lisa and Dan are on the sofa together, united in a look of dismay, and Irena is sitting in another armchair, her face set like stone. Audrey, who is in another dining-room chair that has been brought in, appears to have just broken off in the middle of saying something.

  “Jenna!” Catherine says, standing up. She comes over and gives Jenna a quick hug. “You got here fast.”

  Irena rises and hugs Jenna as well. Audrey folds her arms across her chest. She looks like she’s irritated at the sight of Jenna, but still, she seems—triumphant. What’s going on here?

  Lisa brings in another chair from the dining room, and Jenna sits down.

  A tense silence has fallen over the room. Catherine says, “Audrey was just telling us that Dad changed his will before he died.”

  * * *

  • • •

  audrey stancik looks around the room at all these spoiled children, so smug, so entitled, so sure they’re going to get what they think they’re owed. But now it’s her turn. She’s the one who’s going to get what should be coming to her. Despite the circumstances, she can’t suppress a smile.

  Jenna is now regarding her with open hostility. They were all unhappy to see her, even if they initially made a feeble attempt at pretending otherwise. But Fred was her only brother. He was all the family she had left, other than her own daughter. She doesn’t consider the rest of them family.

  Now Jenna says, her voice cold, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Audrey regards her with dislike. She has never got on with Jenna, who does whatever the hell she wants, with flagrant disregard for how it affects anybody else. Now she enjoys taking some of the wind out of her sails. She doesn’t bother to hide her glee. “In fact, he did it last week.”

  She watches Jenna’s eyes flicker to Catherine, then Dan. She’s already dropped this little bombshell on the others, and it got a similarly disturbed reaction from them.

  “What the fuck is this?” Jenna says to Catherine.

  Jenna doesn’t even have the decency to direct the question to her, Audrey thinks sourly. Well, it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? They’ve always treated her as the unwanted outsider, the hanger-on, the poor relation outside their little club. It infuriates her. They don’t have any idea what she and her brother went through, what she did for him. They’ve never had to grow up. They have no clue.

  Catherine turns to her. “Tell her, Audrey, what you told us.”

  Audrey sits back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. She’s going to tell them again, for Jenna’s benefit this time. Although it’s shocking and upsetting, what’s happened to Fred and Sheila, she can’t help smiling a little—this is her moment, after all. She says, “I visited your father just over a week ago, on Monday. He called me and asked me to come to the house. We had a long discussion. He told me he was going to change his will—that he would see Walter and do it later that week. Sheila already had a significant amount to live on until she died, and to leave as she wished, but regarding the bulk of his estate—half would go to me and the rest would be split among the rest of you.”

  “I don’t believe that!” Dan exclaims vehemently, from the sofa. “Why would he do that?”

  “It’s what he wanted,” Audrey says firmly, turning on Dan. “There’s still plenty to go around.” But she knows they’re greedy and they want as much as possible for themselves. And they don’t want her to have any of it.

  “I don’t believe it either,” Jenna says. “You’re just making this up! You’ve always wanted Dad’s money.”

  Audrey wants to hiss back at her, Look who’s talking, you greedy bitch, but instead she takes a deep breath, allows her smile to widen, and says, “Your mother was there too. She didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She’d already signed a postnup agreement for what she got years ago; he could do what he liked.”

  “This is fucking unbelievable!” Dan bursts out angrily, standing up suddenly. Audrey jumps a little in her chair.

  Catherine interjects. “Let’s just all calm down, please. Dan, sit down.” He sinks back onto the sofa. Catherine says, “As far as I know, I am the executor of our parents’ estates. I will call Walter and find out what the wills contain. I’m sure there will be no surprises,” she says meaningfully, looking at Audrey. “But I’m not going to do it this minute. Our parents have just been murdered—how would it look?”

  That’s Catherine for you, always concerned about how things look—the complete opposite of her sister, Audrey thinks. But she’s right—it would be inappropriate to call the lawyer a couple of hours after the discovery of the bodies. She surveys them all with distaste. They were always brats as children, and they haven’t changed any as adults.

  Fred could be cruel; she knows that as well as anyone. Audrey, his little sister, is probably the only person alive who really understood him, knew what he was made of. She looks around the room at each of them—Catherine, Dan, and Jenna. The news on the radio suggested that it was a violent robbery, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was one of them?

  She sees them now through new eyes. She’s never really had to consider it before. But now she thinks about the family taint—the streak of psychopathy that has run through the Merton family. She wonders if it lurks hidden inside one of them.

  Perhaps she should be more careful, she thinks uneasily.

  14

  In the early afternoon, Rose Cutter steps out of her storefront office on Water Street to grab a coffee. There’s a coffee maker in the office, but her nerves are on edge and she needs to get out for a brisk walk. She slips into her favorite café. There’s a short line of people in front of her, and she waits impatiently. A television is on behind the counter of the coffee shop, the volume off, and while she waits for her latte, she sees the images of a mansion swarming with police and reads the silently scrolling text beneath. Fred and Sheila Merton found murdered in their home.

  As she picks up her coffee to take back to the office, her hand is shaking, and she can’t make it stop.

  * * *

  • • •

  finished with the house, Reyes and Barr canvass the area around the Mertons’ home for anyone who might have seen something around the time of the murders. They approach the house on the east side of the Mertons’, which is also at the end of a long drive. Reyes steps out of the car and notes that, from here, the Merton house can’t be seen at all. The lots are enormous, the houses too far apart, and there are thick stands of trees between them.

  Reyes rings the doorbell, while Barr surveys the property.

  A woman answers the door. She’s in her sixties and seems anxious at the sight of them. They show their badges and introduce themselves.

  “I saw it on the news,” she says.

  “Maybe we should sit down?” Reyes suggests.

  She nods and leads them into a large living room. Then she takes a cell phone out of her sweater pocket and texts someone. She looks up at
them. “Just asking my husband to join us.” Soon enough a man comes down the stairs and into the living room. They introduce themselves as Edgar and June Sachs.

  Reyes asks, “Did you see or hear anything unusual on the night of Easter Sunday, or early Monday?”

  Mrs. Sachs looks at her husband and shakes her head. “We can’t see or hear the neighbors from here.”

  Her husband agrees. “It’s very quiet around here, very private. I didn’t notice anything.”

  Mrs. Sachs tilts her head for a second, as if she’s just remembered something, and says, “I did see a pickup truck go by that I didn’t recognize. It went past here, away from the Mertons’ place.”

  “About what time was that?” Reyes asks.

  “I don’t know. We’d gone to bed. But I woke up because my legs were aching and got up to take some Advil. I happened to look out the front window of the bedroom and noticed the truck. I have no idea what time it was. Sorry.”

  “What time did you go to bed?”

  “Around ten. So it was sometime after that. I often wake up in the night and have to take something for my legs.”

  “What did the truck look like?” Reyes asks.

  “It was quite distinctive. Not really the kind of vehicle we see around here. I know what everybody drives and nobody has a truck like that. And we all use the same gardening service, with white trucks, and it wasn’t one of those. It was dark—black, maybe, and it had yellow and orange flames along the side, like those old Hot Wheels toys.”

  Reyes thanks them for their time, and he and Barr speak to the other neighbors. There’s only one home on the other side of the Mertons’ house, and that’s where the road ends. There had been no visitors there that night, and no one had seen a truck at all. Nor had anyone in the other neighboring houses. Reyes wonders briefly if the pickup was a figment of Mrs. Sachs’s imagination. One neighbor volunteered that he’d recognized Jenna Merton’s Mini Cooper go past his driveway away from the Mertons’ when he was out walking his dog on Easter night, just after eight o’clock. Barr makes a note. Reyes and Barr head back to the police station. It’s midafternoon, and they’re both starving. They stop at a favorite lunch spot and grab sandwiches and coffee on the way—ham and cheese for him and chicken salad for her.

  * * *

  • • •

  catherine watches out the large front window of Dan and Lisa’s house as Audrey gets in her car and drives away. She takes a deep breath and then turns to face the rest of them.

  They’re all relieved that Audrey has gone, but their relief is tinged with worry. They look at one another in concern. Catherine leans back in her chair and closes her eyes for a moment, exhausted.

  Jenna begins, “You don’t honestly believe her, do you? She’s just saying that to try to guilt us into giving her some money.”

  “I don’t know,” Catherine says, lifting her head and opening her eyes. “You know what Dad was like the last time we saw him. He was horrible to everyone. He said they were going to sell the house.” She adds, “Maybe he did change his will in favor of Audrey. God, I hope not.”

  “It’s just the sort of thing he would do,” Dan says angrily. “Give half his money to someone we don’t even like, just so that there’s less for us.” He adds pettily, “He didn’t even like her.”

  “Well, I’m not buying it,” Jenna counters. “She’s making it up. If he’d just changed his will in her favor, he would have told us all about it at Easter dinner—and he would have enjoyed it.”

  “Good point,” Catherine agrees. They had always been led to believe, in an offhand way, that the estate would be split equally among the three children, but what if things had changed? Catherine realizes she has no real certainty at all about what the wills contain. She observes the rest of them. “Look at us,” she says after a moment. “The way we’re talking—as if all we care about is money.” That falls a little flat. She leans forward. “Look, we have to pull together.” She turns toward Irena, who has been almost mute since Audrey arrived; before that, she’d given her account of what happened that morning at the crime scene. “You said the police seemed to think it was a robbery that got violent, but they’re still probably going to question all of us.” She looks at each one of them in turn, even giving her husband a warning glance. “I suggest you keep your feelings about our father to yourselves. Let’s try to look like a functional family. And try not to look too happy about the money.” She adds, “And none of us speaks to the press, got it?” They all nod agreement. “Now, we have a funeral to sort out. And it has to be done properly.”

  They spend the next hour coming up with a plan for the funeral. They would like it to be held at St. Brigid’s, the church her parents attended. They expect a large crowd. Their parents will be laid to rest in the cemetery nearby, the one rich people use, the one with all the mausoleums.

  Catherine will say a few words at the funeral service, as the eldest. They discuss where to invite people to go afterward. The obvious place would have been the family home—it’s the only one of their places large enough for it, but it’s an active crime scene, so it’s out. They decide on the golf and country club their parents belonged to. They can do the food too. Catherine will call them and the church, first thing tomorrow.

  Finally, she gets up to leave, feeling completely drained. It’s hard to believe it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon. She thinks she will remember the day her parents were discovered dead as one of the longest days of her life. But she must still talk to Ted when they get home. Where no one else can hear what they say.

  15

  Audrey had driven away from the unpleasant scene at Dan’s house directly to the home of her closest friend, Ellen Cutter. They’ve known each other for decades, from back when they both worked for her brother at Merton Robotics in the early days of the company. Ellen knew Fred well, having been his personal assistant for many years, although it was a long time ago.

  When Audrey arrived, Ellen was expecting her—she’d already heard about the murders on the radio. They processed the shocking news over coffee in Ellen’s sunny kitchen. They didn’t know how Fred and Sheila had been killed, as that information hadn’t yet been released. The family had told her they didn’t know yet. It felt bizarre to Audrey to be doing something she did so often—having coffee at Ellen’s—but discussing something so entirely out of the norm. Ellen was clearly shaken by the news of the murders. She already knew that Audrey was going to get half her brother’s estate someday, because Audrey had confided in her. Unlike Fred’s children, Ellen had been happy for her. But neither of them had expected it to happen quite so soon. Audrey might have said a bit too much about how this would change her life. But she couldn’t help it if, even in the midst of such a tragedy, it gave her pleasure to discuss it.

  They talked about taking a trip together, a cruise maybe, around Italy. Audrey’s treat.

  * * *

  • • •

  lisa stands at the front door watching as the others leave. She sees Irena stop at Catherine’s car, as Ted saunters to his own vehicle, farther away. He leans against it and lights up a cigarette. Jenna joins him and lights up, too, the only smokers in the family. Lisa turns her attention back to Catherine and Irena. They’re talking in low voices. What are they saying that they couldn’t say inside? She feels Dan behind her, can feel his warm breath on her neck.

  Catherine glances back to the house, where Lisa and Dan are watching from the front door, and abruptly stops speaking to Irena and gets into her car. After that, they all drive off—Catherine first in her Volvo, Ted following in his sports car, Irena in her old Toyota. Jenna stays behind, at her own car now, to smoke another cigarette and scroll through her phone.

  Lisa turns around suddenly and catches an odd expression on her husband’s face, before it quickly vanishes. What was it? But now he’s looking at her in his usual rueful way and she can’t be sure.


  He turns away from her, running a hand through his hair.

  She follows him into the kitchen, pours herself another cup of coffee from the carafe. She turns around, her back to the counter, watching him closely. “Are you all right?” she asks.

  He sits down in one of the kitchen chairs, his elbows on the table, hands clasped tightly. “I’m not sure.”

  She thinks about how to put it. “I know you had your issues with your father. But I also know how much you loved your mother. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be.”

  Lisa hasn’t lost either of her parents yet, and when the time comes, she’s sure it will be difficult. She has a good relationship with both of them. Dan’s relationship with his parents was complicated. He’s told her some stories from his childhood, and she’s observed enough since she married him to feel no particular regret that Fred Merton is out of the picture. She’s sad about Sheila, though—she liked her mother-in-law well enough. But Dan could never rely on her. Her love was always conditional. Couldn’t she see how much that hurt her son?

  Life has been so uncertain lately. But this changes things. And maybe Dan will finally be able to bury his parents and what they did to him.

  She chews her bottom lip, still looking at him. She wonders if he will break down and cry; if he does, she will go to him, put her arms around him.

  Instead, he stares into space. He looks . . . empty. She’s never seen him this way before; it makes her uneasy.

  She comes over and sits down at the table next to him. “Dan,” she says, putting her hand on his arm, shaking it a little. He starts and focuses his eyes on hers.

  “I keep seeing them,” he says. For a second his face twists.

  “What do you mean?” She pulls back instinctively.