“How do you know that?” Tessa said to her. She noticed that her nerves were slowly reaching their limit.
“Just look on the Internet. The police have reserved the sports arena and have asked about the seating arrangements.”
Tessa ignored the triumphant look on Savannah’s face. She was already somewhere else in her thoughts. “If Fran didn’t have any obvious injuries, where did the blood on her jacket, the one Hogan Dole supposedly found at Whitesand Bay, come from?”
“And the cat collar with blood on it?” Savannah added.
Martha Griffins was listening. “What cat collar?”
Savannah put a cup of tea and a plate of warmed-up spaghetti for Tessa on the table. “We found it on the trail to Whitesand Bay. It belonged to the third cat, Rosie. Does anybody else want tea?”
Tessa felt her mother looking at her as she started eating the spaghetti and drank a sip of tea. She had to eat; she had to.
“What did you find out at the lodge?” Martha seemed really interested and less overwhelmed than her husband.
Tessa talked about the ranger’s visit to Fran’s farm. She also mentioned the illegal painkillers Fran had apparently taken. And she revealed that a bear researcher was the one who had been with Tsaytis Chelin at the farm, but that she probably hadn’t seen the bodies.
“Why was this bear researcher at the farm?” a suspicious Martha Griffins asked.
Tessa swallowed the spaghetti before she answered: “I assume that she wanted to convince Fran that . . . that there had been nothing between her and Hank. Apparently Fran had accused her of that on the day of the open house at Watershed Lodge. But Lynn Prett had the impression that Fran was no longer completely stable.”
“Maybe it was these strong painkillers that had negatively affected Fran’s brain,” Kenneth Griffins added. “If I had known about them, I would have warned her. But she . . .” He didn’t end the sentence.
Tessa remembered again the conversation she had had with her father. She couldn’t suppress it any longer. She knew that she was on thin ice. “I told Dad that Harrison Miller came today to pick up the dogs. I was here briefly to get my backpack, and I had no idea where Dad was. I couldn’t find him. And I also couldn’t find the dogs. But the Pathfinder was parked in front of the house. Harrison drove me in his car out to the floatplane. While we were driving, he talked a lot of nonsense. He said, for instance, that I should ask Dad where he had hidden Fran so that she couldn't disclose certain things.”
Her mother whacked the table so hard that the teacup hopped. “How can you ask your father something like that, Tessa?”
“I just told you what Harrison—”
“Don’t you see how much that question upsets your father?”
Kenneth Griffins stroked his wife’s hand. “It’s okay, darling. It’s better that I know what kind of gossip the mayor is spreading around.”
Tessa sipped on her tea. “What’s the meaning of this rumor, Dad? What was he suggesting?”
“Enough of this!” Martha Griffins stood up as if she was climbing a barricade. “You said yourself that Harrison was spreading a bunch of bullshit. We really don’t have to put up with this.”
Tessa glanced again at her father. The way he looked told her to wait until they were alone.
Her mother seemed to have the same idea. “I’m going upstairs,” she announced. “And you’re coming with me, Tessa.”
Kenneth disagreed. “Whatever you have to talk about with her, you can deal with it here. We don’t have any secrets from each other.”
“I don’t want to embarrass my daughter in front of everyone, my dear. Apparently I have to remind her of the house rules.” She stood behind Tessa’s chair and took her hand. “Come, my child.” And turning to Savannah, she said: “Can you please feed the cats?”
Tessa avoided the looks of the others and let her mother pull her up the stairs. Like a sacrificial lamb, ran through her head. Martha Griffins went toward Tessa’s room at the end of the corridor. She shut the door behind them and whispered: “From up here they won’t be able to hear anything.”
They both sat down on the edge of the bed. Her mother was still holding her hand. “We really have to make sure that this doesn’t escalate,” she said more patiently, not using the sharp words she had used before. “You don’t know everything, dear; that’s why you’re making some bad mistakes. Now I’m going to explain something to you.” With a deep sigh, she continued: “Last February I sat here with Fran in this room. She thought that your dad had used Valium to calm her down when she was a child.”
Tessa dropped her mother’s hand. “What do you mean ‘calm her down’?”
“That he regularly gave her strong sedatives.”
“But that’s not true, Mom, is it?”
“No, of course not. The pills he gave her work against anxiety and depression. And she only got them once in a while.”
“Did you tell Fran that?”
“Yes. The stuff about the tranquilizers is a lot of crap, but Fran continued to believe it. And she complained that these pills were the reason for all her health problems. That your father, against her will or without her knowledge, had given her these strong sedatives.”
“How . . . how did she get that idea? She never made even the slightest suggestion of that to me.”
“Because it’s not true. Somebody talked her into thinking it was.”
“Who did that?”
“Melanie Pleeke.”
Melanie Pleeke, the wife of the funeral home owner. The woman who had contacted Ron Halprin.
“Apparently Melanie offers some weird therapy,” her mother continued. “And Fran fell for this nonsense.”
“What kind of therapy?”
“Melanie hypnotizes her clients and takes them back to their childhood. So that they remember and relive various traumatic experiences.”
“What? Because of this, Fran thinks she remembers that Dad . . .” She shook her head angrily. “That’s crazy, Mom!”
“Yes, it is. But Fran was convinced by it. Because she suddenly found an explanation for all her problems.”
“What problems?”
Her mother reached out again for Tessa’s hand; her fingers were hot.
“Your father and I . . . we go on the assumption that Fran had a traumatic childhood before she came to us. She grew up in a house with adults who had terrible relationships. We did our best to . . . create a normal life for her. And this is the thanks we get.” She swallowed hard and continued, more resigned than bitter: “As a teenager, Fran had suffered from depression and insomnia. Ken gave her medicine to dampen her pain. But Fran claimed in February that he had routinely used tranquilizers on all our foster children.”
“How did Dad react to Fran’s accusations?”
“He doesn’t know anything about them.”
Tessa couldn’t believe her ears. “You never told him about this?”
Her mother shook her head. “Why should I burden him with this kind of crap?”
“But Mom, he . . . he has to know. He has to be able to defend himself.” Tessa tried not to raise her voice, despite her bewilderment.
“Against what?”
“Against this rumor! Against people who could hurt him.”
“Only you and I know about this. And Fran told just one other person, and that person warned me.”
“This already makes four people. And with Melanie Pleeke, five.”
“She won’t spill the beans. We made sure of that.”
“Who is we?”
“Me, and the person who warned me.”
“Who is this person?”
“I can’t tell you. Not yet.”
Tessa looked at her mother, shocked. “Harrison Miller might also have heard this rumor. That could be why he said that Dad was hiding Fran, so that she couldn’t disclose anything.”
“Fran definitely never said anything to Harrison. She hadn’t even told Hank.”
“What makes you
think you know that, Mom?” Tessa was losing her patience. All this had happened in the last few months, and her mother had never asked her for advice.
“Fran hid from him that she had gone to Melanie Pleeke. He definitely wouldn’t have approved, because he . . . because he thought those kinds of things were crazy.”
Tessa got up and paced around the room. After a couple of rounds she stopped and stood in front of her mother. “I know from Sergeant Halprin that Melanie Pleeke asked to talk to the police. What do you think she told them?”
Don’t blow your lid now, Tessa. Just don’t lose it now.
“Melanie won’t talk,” her mother repeated stubbornly.
Tessa felt a storm brewing inside her. “And why was Fran supposedly in Whitesand Bay?”
“Fran?”
“Yes, you told me here in this room that she may have gone there to find proof. Proof of what?”
“That I can’t tell you, because you would otherwise go and tell the sergeant.”
“I had to tell him, Mom, because we were dealing with Fran’s life!”
“It hasn’t helped very much, as we can see now.”
Tessa sat down again. “Did you at least tell Ron Halprin why Fran wanted to look for proof in Whitesand Bay?” Her eyes stared fiercely at her mother. She could hardly believe the scene was playing out in front of her.
“I only said to you it was possible that she was there. I don’t know for sure. Why should I say anything to the sergeant that I don’t know for sure?”
“Aren’t you afraid now that I will say something to Halprin about Dad and Fran and her accusations about tranquilizers?”
The dark circles were deep around her mother’s eyes; she turned her head away. “No. You would never do something that could harm your father. I know you too well for that.”
Tessa sat there, dazed. More and more things were escaping from Pandora’s box, and what came out was evil, chaotic, and rotten.
They should be crying in each other’s arms, Mom and she, still staggered by Fran’s death and the sorrow about so many lost innocent lives. The sorrow had been pushed into the background by new and disturbing discoveries. At some point the soul simply couldn’t take it in and mourn anymore. The murderer also has that on his conscience, Tessa thought.
Then another thought came to her. “What did you tell Fran about her accusations against Dad?”
“That I would do everything to protect him. That I wouldn’t allow anybody to bring such a miserable lie into public view. I warned Fran that I wouldn’t let my husband be thrown to the lions. Never!” Her mother’s soft voice had become hard again.
“How did you warn Fran?”
“I asked her to keep her mouth shut. I did so much for her. And now this is the result.”
“Did you threaten her?”
Her mother’s face froze up. “What kind of nonsense are you saying? She’s the one who threatened us!”
“But you had to . . .” Tessa heard somebody calling her name. “I’ll take a look to see what’s going on,” she whispered and opened the door.
Her father stood at the top of the stairs. He was holding on tightly to the banister. “Your mother needs some peace and quiet now, and you too, Tessa. We all need a rest.”
She gave him a sign and closed the door again. Her mother had collapsed at the edge of the bed. She looked as if she had aged years. Slowly she raised her eyes, got up, walked heavily toward Tessa, and hugged her.
“The most important thing now is to keep your father out of it,” she whispered.
30
“The media folks are waiting outside.”
Savannah was already working in the kitchen when Tessa came down the next morning. “Please give them a few words. You know best how to get rid of them.”
Tessa nodded in agreement. Thanks to a sleeping pill, she had had a few hours of sleep. She quickly took a shower and slipped into a gray blouse and a black suit. Her funeral outfit. She put on makeup, rinsed her mouth, and fixed her hair. Twenty minutes later she stood in front of a group of journalists who had besieged the house. She walked over to the microphones and the cameras and introduced herself.
“After today’s press conference in Whatou Lake, I will make a statement from the family,” she explained. “Until then, I ask you to be patient and to honor our privacy.” The questions poured in. She pushed them away with a hand movement and spontaneously added instead: “We had hoped to the last that our Fran would be found alive. This hope was destroyed last night in a gruesome way. It is a very difficult, sad time for us; we are in deep despair. I understand that you would like some answers, but at the moment we simply don’t have any. We have to wait for the results from the police investigation and for the information to be given at the press conference. Please understand this.”
Her appeal was actually heard. The journalists left. When she came back into the house, she saw Savannah with a cat in her lap. “Wow, you’ll look really great on TV,” she exclaimed.
Tessa poured herself a glass of milk. “Sometimes, actually most times, you say the wrong words at the wrong time.”
“Unlike you, apparently, as you’ve just shown. Can you give me a cup of coffee? Otherwise I’ll have to scare Lily away.” Tessa put a full mug in front of her. She also pushed over a muffin, which smelled as if it had just come out of the oven. No doubt baked by Savannah. Upstairs again in her room, Tessa exchanged her businesslike suit for comfortable yoga pants.
“How did the conversation with Mom go yesterday?” Savannah asked when Tessa returned to the kitchen to eat a muffin.
“If she had wanted you to hear it, she wouldn’t have gone upstairs with me.”
“I can easily imagine what you wanted to talk about.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“One thing is sure: Fran was not the saint that everybody considered her to be.”
It was amazing how quickly Savannah used the word was, Tessa thought. “Why do you say that?”
“Hank called me up once. Fran had told him that she was meeting me in Whatou Lake. I can tell you one thing: she wasn’t meeting me. Not on that day or any other day.”
“You told Hank?”
“Sure. I don’t lie.”
“Hah!” Tessa rolled her eyes. “You always used to snitch on us kids at Mom’s.”
“Yes, I did. But I wasn’t lying.”
“And now suddenly you remember that Hank phoned you up. I hope the police know about that.”
“Of course.”
“If you know so much, who did Fran meet instead?”
“No idea.”
“Why not? You were always spying on her.”
Savannah choked on her coffee and coughed so hard that the cat jumped off her lap. After she got her breath back, she explained: “I wanted to hang out with both of you. Is that so hard to understand? You and Fran always shut me out of things.”
“Your endless tattling didn’t exactly make you popular with us. You wanted to get in good with Mom.”
“And? In my place, you would’ve done the same thing. You and Fran, you both had an advantage over me. Mom was your biological mother. And Fran, the goody-goody girl, was always Mom’s favorite. Mom would never have admitted that, but that’s the way it was. I only wanted. . .” She didn’t say the next word.
Even so, Tessa knew what she meant.
Love.
That’s what we all wanted: to be loved. Accepted. Part of the group.
Tessa suddenly understood Savannah. It could not have been easy for her to find her place in the big patchwork family. All the children fought in their way to gain Martha and Ken’s affection.
But at some point in life, their roles reversed: Savannah became Martha’s favorite and Fran the black sheep. And now Fran was dead.
Just as Tessa was thinking about her reply, Savannah whispered: “Once I saw Fran with Harrison Miller. In his pickup.”
“What?” All her compassionate thoughts about the troubled Savannah immediately dis
appeared.
“About three weeks ago.” Savannah pushed her cup back and forth on the table. She seemed to have more scruples about passing along this gossip than usual. “In front of the Friendly Piggy. I mean, his pickup was parked across from the gift shop that went bankrupt.”
One of the cats meowed, but nobody paid any attention to it. Her parents seemed to still be sleeping. You couldn’t hear anything from upstairs. Maybe they were whispering to each other, just as Savannah was doing with Tessa.
“’The Friendly Piggy. Is that the new restaurant? Where the Home Hardware used to be?”
“Yes. I do the cleaning there on Wednesdays when the restaurant is closed. I park my car around the corner, otherwise people think the restaurant is open.” Savannah avoided Tessa’s look. “At first I thought it was simply that people hadn’t seen the Closed sign. But nobody got out. So I took a closer look. It was Harrison Miller’s pickup. And I could see both of them very clearly. Harrison had his arm around Fran.”
“Are you screwing with me? You can’t possibly recognize two people in a pickup from where you were standing.”
In response, Savannah got up and rummaged around in her purse that was lying on the sideboard. She held up small binoculars.
Tessa dramatically closed her eyes. Savannah the spy. But nevertheless, she couldn’t afford to make a scene. There was too much at stake. She wanted to hear the whole story.
“What exactly did you see?”
“I found the situation pretty gripping.”
“What? You mean the arm around Fran’s shoulder?”
“Harrison’s arm was there for a long time. At least five minutes or longer. And their faces were close to each other.”
“You can read that the wrong way. Maybe Harrison wanted to console Fran. He probably meant it in a fatherly way.”
Savannah’s whispering turned into hissing. “You see? Fran’s behavior is always excused. She can’t do anything wrong in your eyes.” Tessa didn’t want to admit that she was no longer as sure as she used to be. Savannah didn’t wait for a response. “Don’t you find it strange? Fran had always hated Harrison Miller, right from the beginning, and she had good reason to. She was afraid of him, aren’t I right?”
MURDEROUS MORNING: A heart-stopping crime novel with a stunning end. Page 19
