“Please don’t say that to Nell Bennett. She’s a friend of mine and I can only imagine what she’s going through.”
“Is she the blonde over there, in the dark blue coat? She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.” Jack made a quick decision. “Wait here a minute.”
He disengaged Bea’s hand from his arm and walked briskly toward the marquee, where a line of people was forming to speak to the widow. Jack elbowed his way past them as if he had every right to go to the head of the line. He interposed himself between Nell and the police chief and said to Tyler Whittaker, “Mrs. Bennett needs to sit down now. You can wait for another time.”
A moment later Nell was seated in her chair with a printed sheet for the funeral service in her hand. She would remember this too: the sense of being gathered up and swept away by a force of nature.
Jack deftly maneuvered the disconcerted chief of police out from under the marquee. Tyler Whittaker had the authority of his office behind him, but Jack Reece radiated a different kind of authority; a steely confidence that dared a man to challenge him. The situation put Whittaker at a disadvantage. He could not make a scene; protocol must be observed at the funeral of one of the town’s prominent citizens.
When they were out of earshot of the others Whittaker demanded in his normal tone, “Do I know you?”
“Jack Reece. Bea Fontaine at the S and S is my aunt; you probably know her.”
Whittaker was mentally running through a list of names. “Do you have any connection with Mrs. Bennett?”
“Only the desire to protect a woman from being harassed.”
“I wasn’t harassing her, I was … Jack Reece?” Whittaker narrowed his eyes. “Bennett’s P.A. told me he tried to hire a man called Jack Reece for some security work.”
“Tried, yes, but I declined the offer.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Security work isn’t really my line.”
“Then why did he offer you the job? What is your line, anyway?”
Before Jack could answer—if he intended to—Bea Fontaine interrupted them and pointedly asked Jack to take her to a seat. She did not like to see the chief of police questioning him. His habitual evasiveness was enough to make anyone suspicious and there were too many suspicions already.
Since the explosions and fire at RobBenn the local rumor mill had gone into overdrive. The extensive damage had uncovered disquieting aspects of the operation. Robert Bennett’s policy of secrecy was responsible for suppositions and conspiracy theories that could ruin reputations before the truth was discovered. If it ever was.
Gerry and Gloria Delmonico were the last couple to be seated under the marquee, and then only because Gloria’s pregnancy was becoming obvious. Eleanor Bennett had introduced them to the other guests as if she were sleepwalking.
“You needn’t be here, Muffin,” Gerry whispered. “No one expects it of you.”
“I expect it of me, darling. He was your boss.”
“Not by the time he died,” her husband said.
“It began in your laboratory, didn’t it?”
“According to the Seed the fire department thinks the original explosion was in there, yeah. By the time the Nyeberger boys ran out of the lab it was in flames, and the fire spread fast. The kids were in serious trouble; at least one of them had set his own clothes on fire. Their screams must have alerted Bennett, the poor bastard. We won’t know the exact sequence of events for a while, but he got the boys outside. One of the little ones was the last, he’d been hiding under a table. Bennett apparently went back for him and then something else exploded. He took the full force of it.” Gerry paused. “An open casket wasn’t an option. Cremation was the best choice.”
Gloria briefly closed her eyes. “Poor Mrs. Bennett.” After a moment she asked, “Was the Change responsible for what happened?”
“It’s too soon to tell, Muffin, but I don’t see how. The lab wing contained a lot of volatile material. All those boys had to do was expose phosphorus to air to ignite it.”
“Surely no one will blame the children after what they’ve been through.”
“Youngsters that age aren’t children anymore,” said Gerry, “and they haven’t been for a long time. They’ve been seduced into a whole new category in order to sell them overpriced technology. If I’d been in Bennett’s place, would you forgive them?”
Gloria’s response was immediate. “If one of them was our boy, would you want him charged with murder?”
* * *
When people began to leave the cemetery Nell stayed where she was. She could not turn her back on the mound of flowers with the bronze urn waiting on top. Could not walk away.
Katharine Richmond hugged her as if she were made of glass. “Are you all right, dear? Are you too cold? I brought a heavier coat for you, just in case.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” To Nell’s ears her own voice sounded like that of a stranger.
“Jess and Colin are coming home with me now in one of the limousines,” her mother said. “You come when you’re ready. I’ll have beds for all of you. You and Jess in the guest bedroom and Colin on the rollaway in the dining room. You don’t want to go back to … you don’t want to go back yet.”
Mrs. Richmond remembered burying a husband.
My mother’s taking me home, Nell thought in an abstract way. That’s nice. But she did not feel it, did not feel anything.
* * *
Jack Reece had remained at Nell’s side throughout the funeral service. She knew of him in the general way people in Sycamore River knew about other people; he was Bea Fontaine’s nephew. Aside from that he was a stranger. They were all strangers, the people under the marquee and on the lawn beyond. Faces with no one behind them.
When the workmen began to move the floral arrangements, Jack put a hand on Nell’s arm. She did not feel its warmth, only its weight. “I’m here with my aunt Bea, Mrs. Bennett. We can take you anywhere you like.”
“I have my own car,” said Nell. In that faraway voice which wasn’t hers.
His sudden smile surprised her. “I know you do; I supplied your tires.”
Bea Fontaine insisted, “You’re in no condition to drive right now, Nell. Leave your car here and we’ll bring it to you later.”
Later Nell would recall being in the front passenger seat of a Volkswagen driving along the riverbank. Her eyes were drawn to the moving water. Indifferent to life and death; obedient to another purpose. Rob is gone, but the river will still be flowing tomorrow.
She knew she should be grieving. All she felt was free.
And despised herself for it.
As he drove Jack kept a covert surveillance on the woman beside him. He knew before Nell did when she relaxed slightly. “I think a brandy might be in order about now,” he said over his shoulder to Bea. “How about the Chatham Hotel?”
“In the back of the dining room, where it’s quiet,” she agreed.
* * *
Colin and Jessamyn were waiting for Nell at the door of her mother’s apartment. Colin stepped forward and put his arms around her in a tight hug. “I love you, Mom.”
Warmth began to flow through Nell’s veins.
Jess said shyly, “I made up your bed myself. I took the best pillow from Gramma’s bed.”
I would kill for these children, Nell thought. Nothing must ever, ever be allowed to hurt them.
I would kill for them.
* * *
At the veterinary clinic Paige Prentiss was not favorably impressed by Tyler Whittaker. The chief of police had too much starch in his shirt and too little give in his attitude. “We’ve been informed by a reliable source,” he said in clipped tones, “that Robert Bennett’s firm was threatened by members of the Daggett’s Woods Conservancy.”
She bristled. “That’s not true! None of us would do such a thing, we believe in peaceful protest. We certainly never blew up any buildings. Who’s your reliable source anyway, a witch with a Ouija board?”
&nbs
p; “I’m not at liberty to give you that information. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to examine these premises for incendiary materials.”
“I mind very much! Show me your warrant.” Paige clenched her jaw.
Sheriff Whittaker was not a native of Sycamore River. When he took the job he had been warned that small-town people did not react kindly to the sort of tactics used in the city. “Ask ’em nicely, don’t demand,” was the advice he received from the former incumbent. The disaster at RobBenn was his first really big case, and proving to be a steep learning curve. “I don’t have a warrant with me, Miss Parsons.” He gave her a wooden smile. “I was hoping you’d cooperate.”
“Well, I won’t. Go get your warrant.”
As he left Whittaker heard her hiss, “Fascist.”
He wheeled around. “What was that?”
“Ashes,” Paige said with wide-eyed innocence. “You have ashes on the seat of your pants. Do you want me to brush them off for you?”
* * *
Forensic investigation into the RobBenn disaster confirmed that Robert Bennett had been using unstable materials in the production of questionable merchandise. The mystery was officially resolved when Kirby Nyeberger, suffering from excruciating phosphorus burns, recounted from his hospital bed the part he and his brothers had played in the tragedy. The badly damaged boys would be paying for their hour of mischief for the rest of their lives. But no charges were filed. No judge in Sycamore River would hear the case.
* * *
Nell began to suffer nightmares about the last few moments of her husband’s life. There must be some way she could have saved him, if only …
If only …
She awoke in the grainy light of dawn to pace the floor and smoke cigarettes, a habit she had abandoned when she met Rob. He would not kiss her if she tasted of tobacco.
“Mom,” said Colin, “I wish you wouldn’t smoke. What would we do if you got lung cancer?”
“You’re like your father, you always see the bright side.”
“Is that a joke?”
But she threw the cigarettes away.
* * *
The tobacco industry was one of thousands crippled by the Change. In the manufacture of cigarettes the highly specialized machines were constructed of metal, but every step of the production process involved parts made from hard plastic. Packaging ceased. Distribution ceased. Smokers would have to roll their own from now on.
There would be fewer deaths from lung cancer in the future.
Hospitals were struggling; no institutions were more reliant on plastic products. Patients were beginning to die due to failed technology. Medical professionals worked alongside lab technicians trying to discover usable substitutes.
As soon as the problem with stents was realized, doctors began replacing them with thin tubes of steamed and sterilized bamboo. But bamboo was not readily available everywhere. Three-D printers had been used for decades to replicate human organs with a plasticine material, but now some other substance must be found. In the ongoing battle against cancer, oncologists accelerated the development of antibody technology, but it would take time. Scientists who had pioneered the field of synthetic biology using manufactured DNA claimed it would be possible to replace all petrochemicals … within another decade.
* * *
Sycamore River could not decide how it felt about the Nyebergers. At one time RobBenn had provided employment for a number of people and was the pride of the town. That time had passed. Robert Bennett had very few friends to mourn his passing, but his widow was from one of the Old Families and had connections. Those connections could be resented by the less privileged; some thought the Bennetts had gotten what they deserved. In spite of the official report printed in full in The Sycamore Seed, there were rumors of a conspiracy on the part of the Daggett’s Woods Conservancy.
* * *
“The Nyeberger family’s going to sue for damages,” Bea Fontaine informed her nephew. “Dwayne’s been talking about it at the bank, he seems to think he’s going to be rich for life. RobBenn had commercial liability insurance and Bennett carried a large personal liability policy, but I doubt if the combined sums will amount to the fortune Dwayne’s anticipating.”
“That greedy bastard,” Jack said in disgust. “Kick her while she’s down, why not? And especially with Christmas coming up.”
“I don’t think anyone’s expecting a very festive Christmas this year. A lot of my friends are planning to go to church, though. More than usual,” Bea added.
“You think the Change is a ploy on God’s part to get people to pray? Put your glasses back on and don’t look at me like that, Aunt Bea; I was being facetious.”
“Then who do you think is behind it?”
“I’m not sure that’s the right question,” he told her. “Not who, not even what. But why? Why out of all the things on this planet destroy only items made from petrochemicals? It’s too deliberate to be accidental. There’s a cold logic behind the Change if we could figure it out. There must be some clue we’re missing.”
* * *
There were times when Finbar O’Mahony, the late Robert Bennett’s personal attorney, wished he had gone into any other profession. He was thinking that now as he stood at the door of Katharine Richmond’s apartment with his finger poised over the bell.
The balcony across the front of the second-story apartments was an obstacle course of bicycles, scooters and barbecue equipment. Some of the front doors could use repainting, but at least they were made of real wood, which had been considered a luxury detail half a century ago. The majority of doors and window frames used in modern construction were disintegrating. Lumberyards were swamped with more orders than they could handle.
While he waited for someone to respond to the bell O’Mahony noticed the balcony floor in front of the adjacent apartment, where brightly colored plastic toys had dissolved. Red, yellow and blue had flowed outward together to the edge of the wooden balcony, where they presumably dripped onto the ground below.
Yet unless the lawyer’s eyes were playing tricks on him the balcony canted toward the apartment doors. Sagging supports, he guessed.
He took a coin out of his pocket and stood it on edge on the floor.
It rolled downhill. Toward the doors.
The edge of the balcony was uphill.
“What on earth are you doing?” Katharine Richmond asked behind him, breaking his concentration.
He whirled around. “I, ah, was conducting a little experiment, nothing important. May I come in? I need to talk to your daughter. I believe she and the children are staying with you for a while.”
“Indefinitely,” she corrected. “I couldn’t let her go back to that house after the funeral, not even for Christmas. I don’t think she wanted to anyway. I took them all to church with me and then we had a quiet dinner here. It was very pleasant, I found an old Monopoly board and we played games.”
Rob Bennett would have loved that, the attorney told himself.
The Richmond living room was decorated in shades of beige and rose, with no Christmas tree but a slight odor of dog in the air. When O’Mahony sat down on the couch the odor enveloped him. “Nell brought the dogs with her, I assume?”
“Only Sheila and Rocky,” Nell said as she entered the room. “Hello, Finbar. Three dogs would be more than the landlord would tolerate; as it is he’s making a big concession.”
Widow and lawyer faced each other across a low coffee table. A neatly arranged stack of glossy magazines sat in the exact center of the table. There were no flowers, no coasters and no ashtrays. O’Mahony did not disturb the arrangement by adding his briefcase.
The widow was pale and had lost weight; her plain dark dress looked as if it had been bought for someone else. Her hair was outgrowing its style; the roots were showing. She was wearing very little makeup.
“I’m here to fill you in on what’s happening with the Nyeberger situation,” O’Mahony began. “There’s good news and bad,
Eleanor; which do you want first?”
“Give me the bad news first, Finbar, and let’s get it over with.”
“I admire your courage. Dwayne Nyeberger’s hired a high-powered legal firm that specializes in industrial compensation, and the accident at RobBenn is right up their alley. If they get what they’re asking for it will clean you out; not only what’s left of the property in Daggett’s Woods but your house and cars, any other investments you and Rob held jointly, probably even your personal jewelry. They’re professional asset strippers.”
“I see. Well, I’m not surprised. And the good news?”
To Nell’s surprise the lawyer’s eyes twinkled. If she did not know better she would have thought he was about to smile. “The Change is the good news,” he said.
“I don’t understand.”
“If this had gone to court a year ago … but this is now. Deeds, trust documents, insurance policies, bank records, the Change is throwing priceless information out the window. Tons of data that was routinely digitized can’t be accessed anymore. In many cases the paper originals have been destroyed; they were thought to be obsolete. Everything was done through the computer, but online is going offline.” He made the last remark with obvious relish.
“Eleanor, I assume you know that the Cloud is the world’s largest information bank, a virtual reality that was supposed to be safe. It’s become the repository for just about everything important. Presumably the information still exists, but the micronized infrastructure is failing and so is the hardware to reach it. All that valuable material, lost in the clouds.” The lawyer smiled at his little joke. “Without access to it lawsuits like the Nyebergers’ are merely fodder for the wastebasket.”
Nell’s eyes brightened. “You mean they can’t…”
“Precisely. Not for years or decades, maybe even centuries. IT engineers are working to circumvent the problem, but they’re not making much headway.” Finbar O’Mahony folded his hands atop the briefcase in his lap. “Nobody’s saying this out loud, but it could destroy the legal profession. Didn’t Shakespeare write, ‘Let’s kill all the lawyers’? I predict chaos in a matter of months. Frankly, I prefer to be well out of it.
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