“We had no choice, you see,” Marion said. “Wendell was planning to kill himself. Better I do it for him, Callie. Better I give him one last kiss and then fill him with insulin and let him die from that. Better his death at my hand than at his own.”
“But why?” I asked, struggling to understand.
Marion didn’t reply for a long while.
“Because I loved him,” she said finally, simply. “I didn’t want his life to end in suicide.”
And then I understood. Like gears shifting into place, I realized now that almost the entire family had known the true circumstances of Wendell’s death—or at least had suspected as much. That explained why they didn’t talk about the murder, why they all acted as if he had died of natural causes. Their mother had killed their father to save him from the misery of committing suicide. Somehow, in her mind and maybe theirs, too, the crime was justified.
“You made a big mistake, Marion,” I said, shaking my head. She looked up at me through tear-filled eyes.
“Perhaps,” she whispered. “But I’m still alive. I still have time to atone for my sin.”
“We have to call the police,” I said, reaching for the phone. She placed one trembling, manicured hand over the receiver and looked up at me pleadingly as if willing me to understand.
“Don’t you understand? It doesn’t matter what happens now,” she said. “I don’t care what they do to me. My punishment is living the rest of my life with the memory of what I did.”
“Marion—”
“I loved Wendell so much, Callie,” she said, lifting the receiver and handing it to me. “I loved him enough to kill him.”
Fifty-Three
In the morning, I went to see Judith.
The jail wasn’t nearly as big or intimidating as I had expected. Judith was fortunate that the police were holding her in a county facility rather than the Philadelphia city jail. She was facing charges of theft and fraud, and though I didn’t know what would happen to her eventually, I knew she was in serious trouble. The IRS, for one, was none too happy about her using nonprofit money to fund a for-profit enterprise. I thought she might end up doing some difficult time—or at least end up with community service and some hefty fines—particularly as Alan was now trying to push as much blame as possible from his shoulders to hers. We reap what we sow, I supposed.
There were a few chairs lining the walls of the reception area of the jail, and beyond them a window with inch-thick glass and a uniformed police officer sitting behind it. Speaking into a wire mesh rectangle, I told him I was an attorney here to see Judith Smythe. He dutifully wrote down her name before pointing to a door where I was to go in and wait.
It was a small room with four chairs around a table and no windows except in the door. I sat, trying to breathe through my mouth, ignoring the strong smell of cleaning ammonia that permeated the room. The table was scratched and scarred but shining, and I set my briefcase on top of it, thinking about all that I had managed to accomplish in the last 12 hours.
Last night Detectives Keegan and Sollie had come and picked up Marion themselves, treating her as kindly as possible under the circumstances despite the mandatory handcuffs. I had followed along to the police station and stayed with her through questioning until her own lawyer could get there. A high-powered corporate attorney, he seemed fairly clueless about criminal procedure, but he promised to hire her the best criminal lawyer money could buy first thing in the morning.
I had returned to the house late in the night to find Derek waiting up for me. I was afraid he would be angry with me for forcing his mother to turn herself in, but mostly he was just confused. He wanted the whole story, though when it came to his mother’s confession, he seemed more sad than surprised. Asking me about her chances in court, I told him I thought they were pretty good. She had turned herself in, after all, and I doubted any judge would have the stomach for the harsh sentencing of a sweet middle-aged lady, however misguided and wrong her actions may have been.
“She’ll do some time,” I had said to Derek, “but I would hope for the minimum.”
Derek, in turn, filled me in on the events at home. He told me that Nick had been taken to the emergency room for stitches and then on to jail, primarily for the crimes of aiding and abetting and obstruction of justice. Angelina was home and had gone on to bed after giving Derek and Sidra a full explanation of all of the events they had missed out on while they were seeing to Carlos’ injured leg. They believed her story about Alan’s lies that the Jefferson shirt was essentially worthless, and they weren’t going to press charges against her for stealing it.
As for Carlos, he was fine after his big adventure, sound asleep in his room in the main house where he belonged. Derek and Sidra were committed to working through the problems in their marriage, he told me, and that began with the three of them living together again as a family.
After my conversation with Derek, I had managed to get a few hours of fitful sleep. Upon awakening this morning, I had packed my few belongings, given the clothes I had borrowed from Judith back to Angelina, and said my farewells. I was sorriest to say goodbye to Carlos, who now looked at me with something approaching hero worship. Not only was I a real spy, but I had managed to save his life and deliver him to safety. I knew I had found a lifelong friend, and I promised to be an e-mail pen pal to him for as long as he wanted.
I left the house and headed to the city. I turned in my fancy Lincoln and picked up my banged-up Saturn and then headed to the police station, where my car was photographed and I was grilled for about three hours by Keegan and Sollie. They had me retrace every step I had made in the last week, and though I left a few things out, I did my best to cooperate. In the end, they let me go with a promise that they would be inviting me back soon to serve as a witness at the various trials connected with the case. The only one of those I looked forward to was the one for Monty Redburn; I hoped to see him behind bars for a long, long time. It wasn’t a matter of forgiveness; it was a matter of safety. I wanted him locked away and unavailable. I wouldn’t soon forget the grin on his face as he tried to kill me, or the sight of his high-powered rifle aimed in my direction.
Leaving the police station, I stopped off at the Perskie Detective Agency to give Duane a big thanks for all of his help. Then I came here to the jail, my last stop before I headed south toward home. I wasn’t sure why I had come; I doubted Judith would be very glad to see me. But I had a few things to say that were weighing on my heart, and at least here she would be a captive audience.
Still, I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her as they brought her in. She was wearing a gray jumpsuit, her hair was limp, and her face was tired and devoid of makeup. She seemed subdued and not at all like her usual energetic, feisty self. She let the guard escort her to a chair, and then she simply sat across from me, avoiding my gaze as the guard retreated through the door.
“How are you?” I asked, my voice echoing in the cement room.
She nodded, swallowing hard.
“About like you’d expect,” she said hoarsely. “The county jail isn’t exactly the Plaza.”
“I suppose not.”
“I should be out on bail in a few hours,” she continued. “At least that’s what my lawyer told me.”
“That’s good.”
“If you came to tell me about Mom,” she said, finally meeting my gaze, “save your breath. Derek was already here this morning. I know everything.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” I said, “but I’m glad he told you.”
“I knew it all along,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Didn’t want to believe it, but in my gut, I knew it.”
“I think all of you knew it,” I replied.
Judith leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.
“So why are you here, Callie?” she asked, a hint of the abrupt Judith sounding in her voice. “Come to gloat over the way you managed to solve your little case? Tie up all the loose ends, as it were? I’ll give you this, you
surprised me. I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”
“If you didn’t think I could do it,” I replied, “then why did you bother searching my room?”
She shrugged.
“Same reason I went through your briefcase. To keep tabs on you. To make sure you weren’t finding out anything you shouldn’t.”
Our eyes met, former enemies surveying the remains on the field from opposite sides of the battle.
“There’s just one loose end I’m worried about,” I said. “It’s from our conversation on Monday when we first met.”
“In Daddy’s office? What, you want to know what I was looking for in there? Take a guess. I wanted to make sure Daddy didn’t have any information about the account transfers from Feed the Need. I’d had a feeling he had figured out what was going on. I just wanted to make sure the cops didn’t run across anything incriminating. Not that it made any difference in the end.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” I said, “but thanks for clearing that up.”
“What then?”
“I’m talking about the part where you told me that you didn’t believe in God. That Christianity wasn’t for you.”
“Ah,” she said slowly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “First my missionary brother and now you. Why, today, is the whole world suddenly so concerned about my soul?”
Much to my amazement, I thought I could see a hint of a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. I took a deep breath, praying that God had used this difficult time to prepare her heart.
“Because we know that deep inside you’re searching for something. Something we’ve already found.”
“I’ve heard this sermon all my life. Why should I choose to listen to it now?”
“What’s wrong with now?” I replied. “Jesus is right where He’s always been, Judith. Standing at the door, knocking. Waiting for you to let Him in.”
Our eyes met and held. Watching her, I could see that years of angry defiance were melting away from her face. She was a strong person, full of resolve, finally brought to her knees by her own misdeeds. Perhaps she was ready to take that next step.
“How could you not want what God has to offer you, Judith? Peace. Forgiveness. Love.”
“Peace? I don’t know what that is.”
“All you have to do is accept Christ,” I said, “and you’ll know. The Holy Spirit will fill you with a peace like you’ve never felt before. He’ll carry your burdens for you, Judith. He’ll help you through this difficult time.”
Judith ran a hand through her hair, her expression wavering.
“How can I believe in something I can’t see?” she whispered. “How can I know something is true that I have no proof of whatsoever?”
“You grew up in a Christian home,” I replied. “You’ve seen the works your father has done, the love that was shared between him and your mother, the love of your brother despite what you’ve done to his company. How can that not be proof enough?”
“We’re talking about a big decision here,” she said. “If I believe Jesus was the son of God, then I have to buy the whole package—that He died, was buried, and rose again. All just to save me from my own sins.”
“He did, Judith. For me. For you. Why is that so hard to accept?”
“I need proof.”
“Is that all that’s stopping you?” I asked, smiling. “As Jesus himself said, ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’ Accept Him on faith! He’s ready to bless you, Judith. I feel sure He sent me here to tell you just that.”
She studied my face for a long time, a hunger burning somewhere behind her eyes. I knew that expression; I had seen it the few times I had led others to Christ. She was open. She was in need.
In her heart, she was ready.
“I’ll say the prayer if you want,” I whispered. “You can just repeat it after me.”
She looked down, shaking her head.
“I was brought up in the church,” she said. “I know what to say.”
She bowed her head and closed her eyes and was silent for a long time. I, too, closed my eyes, silently asking God to surround us with His love, to surround us with His guiding hand. Finally, after a long while, I heard Judith murmur a soft amen.
“Amen,” I repeated, and opened my eyes. I wanted to tell Judith not to expect some sort of miraculous change right away, that salvation isn’t always as much an emotional experience as it is an intellectual one. But one look at her, and I knew I didn’t have to say a word. In her eyes, on her face, it was there.
Judith Smythe had finally come home to God.
Fifty-Four
My house smelled musty, of course, as it had been closed up for days. I put my bags down in the kitchen and then walked around and opened every window I could easily reach. Almost instantly the breeze swept in and cleared the trapped air.
I walked down the quiet hall to my bedroom, unbuttoning my blouse as I went. I was weary but in desperate need of some physical activity after the long drive home. Though it was too late to take the canoe out, it looked like there would be just enough light left for a quick jog to the post office, the dog sitter, and back.
Opening the drawers of my bureau, I pulled out sweatpants and a sweatshirt, sliding them on and exhaling deeply from comfort. What a pleasure to have my own clothes back again! I quickly slipped on my running shoes, did a few stretches, and headed out the front door.
In my rural area, I was safely able to leave the windows open and the door unlocked. I jogged down the front steps and hit the driveway, breathing in my precious Chesapeake air as I ran. There truly is no place like home, I thought to myself. The peculiar salt marshes and high river grasses weren’t for everyone, but to me they were like pieces of heaven. I reached the main road and then stepped off onto the bike path, enjoying the high grass surrounding me on both sides, insulating me from everyone and everything but the well-worn path under my feet and the setting sun ahead of me on the horizon.
As I ran, I thought of Bryan and how much he had loved it here, how he, too, saw it as our little haven of rest. Then I thought of Tom, and I wondered if he had ever been to a place like this, if he knew the difference between things like cattails and wild rice the way Bryan had.
I reached the post office and though the window was closed, I could still get into my box. It was completely full. I pulled everything out, flipped through it, found nothing important, and then tucked it all into the drawstring bag at my waist. On the way back, I circled around by Lindsey’s house and collected my dog Sal—short for La Salle, the French explorer who once traveled a journey of about 3000 miles by canoe.
“She missed you,” the teenager assured me, leaning against the front porch rail, watching as my little doggy trembled in excitement from head to toe. I put Sal on the ground and let her dance around, reaching out to collect her leash and her bowls from Lindsey. I paid the girl for all of the pet-sitting, plus a ten-dollar tip for washing the dog. I didn’t comment on the purple toenails peeking out from Sal’s fur. If Lindsey wanted to play beauty parlor with my dog, it was okay with me. She was a sweet girl, and she provided a good “second home” for my pup.
Sal and I jogged the rest of the way home together, and as we ran up the steps, I could hear the phone ringing inside. I grabbed the portable just in time; it was Tom, about to hang up.
“I see you made it home okay,” he said.
“I was just picking up the dog,” I replied, still out of breath. As we talked, I went to the cabinet, pulled out a strip of beef jerky, and gave it to Sal. She took it gratefully and carried it to her favorite spot by the sliding glass door to settle down and munch.
Tom said that he had just spoken at length to Derek. After some anguished soul-searching, Tom said, Derek had decided to step down as CEO of Feed the Need. Apparently, he and Sidra had been doing a lot of talking about their current lifestyle, and they had reached a compromise: Though Derek had no desire to reenter the foreign mission field, he
did feel compelled to move into home missions. They planned to start some sort of local ministry together—something on a much smaller scale than Feed the Need.
“Of course, he’ll remain on Feed the Need’s board of directors and continue to serve in a consulting capacity,” Tom said, “but the day-to-day operations will be overseen by the new CEO.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Gwen Harding!” Tom laughed. “Apparently, that was Wendell’s directive, and Derek is in full agreement. He said that Gwen was a bit shocked when he first told her this morning, but she’s been warming up to the idea all day.”
“Strike a blow for secretaries everywhere,” I said, smiling. “They practically run their companies anyway.”
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed out to the deck. Sliding the door shut behind me, I turned to face one of the most gorgeous sunsets I had ever seen. Of course, I thought almost every sunset on my inlet was the most gorgeous I had ever seen, but this one seemed especially beautiful.
“You’ll be glad to know that Derek and Sidra are going to go to counseling,” he continued. “The events of the last few days have really made them both take stock. But Derek said you started it all with a good tongue lashing—one that made a lot of sense.”
I smiled, picturing myself fussing at Derek in the diner.
“Yeah,” I said, “as Harriet would say, I really gave him ‘what-for.’”
Tom laughed the easy, warm laugh I knew so well.
“I wish you could see the sunset right now,” I said, sitting in my favorite deck chair. “It has the most incredible colors, and every one of them is reflected in the water.”
“Sounds gorgeous.”
“It is.”
He was quiet for a moment, and I closed my eyes, trying to picture him here with me, wondering if it was a place he could ever belong to.
“For what it’s worth,” he said now, “I’m sorry I brought you in to all of that mess. If I had had any idea how it would turn out…” He let his voice trail off.
A Penny for Your Thoughts Page 32
