by Jaime Maddox
“Too bad for her. She’ll go insane if she can’t work out,” Angie commented. Lidya was an ultra-fit guru who spent hours on her daily gym routine. “Any word from the cops?”
“No news. And no news is bad news.” Sandy explained what the officer had told her about the cold trail and confessed how troubled she was. “I’d like to go back to the cabin, but it’s a little scary right now.”
Angie stopped short, turning toward Sandy and grabbing her hand. “Mom, listen to me! You can’t go back there!”
“Honey, he could shoot me right here. What’s the difference? Since we have no idea who pulled that trigger, I’m in danger everywhere I go.”
Angie slowly released her hands. “This is so awful. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.”
They were still speaking of the attempt on Sandy’s life when they reached the restaurant. At the same moment, a cab pulled up and Danny called to them from the open window. “Do you know where I can get a good margarita in this neighborhood?”
Sandy made the introductions as Danny paid his driver and unloaded his duffel from the car. He easily slung the bag over his shoulder, his long, muscular frame well displayed in a tight-fitting T-shirt and cargo shorts. It was hard not to admire his physique, and Sandy thought instantly of her father, who was just this age when he was killed in a car accident. He, too, had been tall, although leaner than Danny, but just as fair and handsome.
The restaurant was crowded on this Friday night, and as they waited for their drinks Sandy continued her tale about the investigation into the shooting. It was only when Danny’s jaw dropped that Sandy realized she hadn’t told him what had happened to her so soon after their last meeting.
Drinks were delivered and the waiter was paid, but Danny hardly noticed the handsome young man clearly noticing him. He was focused on Sandy’s words, on trying to control the nausea rising in his stomach, on trying to ignore the coincidence that seemed too powerful to dismiss. His cousin seemed genuinely baffled that someone would want to kill her, and likewise, Angie found it unimaginable. Sandy Parker was a very wealthy woman, who knew of no enemies but enjoyed many friends, didn’t engage in any dangerous hobbies like drugs, didn’t gamble, and could think of no reason anyone would want her dead.
Danny could, though. Just a couple of days earlier he’d uncovered evidence of a fraud so huge it could motivate someone to commit murder. If, in fact, it was fraud. He wasn’t sure—it was, after all, entirely possible that Sandy’s grandfather had made some sort of agreement with his brother Dale many years ago, allowing him to use his land, and that the Anthracite Landfill was operating legally.
If that was the case, though, why had his dad reacted so strongly at the mention of that land? In doing his due diligence, Danny had researched the deeds at the courthouse and found that the land in use by the Anthracite Landfill was still owned by David Parker. The Parker Coal Company and then the Parker Companies had paid the taxes since the land was acquired in the 1840s. That fact wasn’t surprising. The company had paid taxes on most of the private holdings of the family, and since David was in medical school when the land was gifted to him, it made sense that the company continue to take care of the assessments.
Although Danny had originally planned this trip to New York for pleasure, that plan had changed after his discovery. There was no relaxing for him now, not until this was resolved. One of Danny’s missions on this trip was to try to determine if his grandfather had made some agreement with his brother, or if his family was operating a business on property they didn’t own for some other reason.
Not typically a heavy drinker, Danny ordered a second margarita when the waiter made his rounds. Tonight, he needed it. And unlike many guys who weren’t acclimated to the effects of alcohol, Danny knew the drink would calm his frazzled nerves without impairing him in any way.
The opportunity for questions came over dinner, and it flowed so easily with the conversation that it seemed to Danny as if he wasn’t making a pointed inquiry at all but merely engaging in conversation about family history. Angie had asked Danny where he grew up, and then he asked the same question of her. When she mentioned spending time in the Poconos, the opening Danny had been waiting for presented itself. “Is that the property your grandfather inherited from Cowboy?”
Sandy told him it was, and relayed the story of how her grandparents had met as children. “Do you still have the hunting lodge?” he asked, knowing it had been sold after David’s death. The property in Hunlock Creek had been close enough to the house on Canal Street that Cowboy could escape to the wilderness for a few hours of hunting or riding and return home in time for dinner. The Pocono property had been passed to her grandfather because of its proximity to his in-laws’ land. The lodge and the property in Hunlock Creek were given to him because of the love David showed for it over the years. He’d hunted and fished there with Cowboy, then later with his son, and finally with Sandy.
“No, Nellie sold that to Paul Bennett, who was our neighbor and a hunter. Paul loved that land, and she thought he’d put it to good use.”
“What about the land in Nanticoke?” He watched her expression closely, anxious for some sign that she was onto the fraud and about to call the FBI. She merely pursed her lips and appeared puzzled, then took a sip of her drink.
Shaking her head she answered his question. “I don’t remember any land in Nanticoke. Maybe my grandfather sold it before he died? I know my grandmother didn’t sell it, because after he died I helped her with all the business dealings and I would remember that.”
So, that settled that, Danny thought. It didn’t settle his stomach, though. The Anthracite Landfill, a multimillion-dollar company owned by his family, was operating illegally. An attempt had been made on the life of the woman who could bring this fraud to light. His father knew about the fraud. Was he ruthless enough to kill a woman to cover it up? To kill his own cousin?
His reputation in the business world was that of a ruthless competitor, a man who not only bent the rules for his own gain, but broke them. He bribed politicians and whoever else he needed to in order to make his businesses run to his satisfaction. He was a liar, a thief, and a cheater. Was he also a killer?
Danny wasn’t sure. He knew his own heart, and if he were in charge he could never operate in the fashion his father had found to be so lucrative. Danny wanted to study the law, and he wanted to uphold the law. He could imagine a career in politics, fighting for good and truth. Could he take another step forward carrying the burden he now had on his shoulders? He didn’t see how he could. He was going to have to find a way to deal with this issue without destroying his family. But how? How, when there had been so much dishonesty? How, when there was so much jealousy and anger? And how, when it might have been his father who shot at his cousin?
After pushing the food around on his plate, taking a few bites without really tasting, and trying to engage his cousins so as to not appear rude, he was relieved when the waiter finally brought their check. As much as he wanted to get away from them both, to have an opportunity to think about what was going on, he accepted Sandy’s offer to return to her apartment for a drink. He hoped he could improve his mood by sharing with her the information she’d requested about the anniversary watches.
It was a short walk back to Sandy’s, and Angie decided to join them both rather than call it a night.
After opening the door to her apartment and quieting the alarm, Sandy poured drinks while Danny looked around. “Is that a Remington?” he asked when the statue caught his eye. He walked over to it and ran his fingers along the cold metal, exploring the intricate carving.
“It sure is.”
“My dad has one, too. It was Cowboy’s at one time.”
Sandy looked up from the counter and shook her head. “No, you have the facts wrong, Danny. Cowboy did own a Remington, but it was passed on to my grandfather and was lost during the flood.” She sighed. “I picked this one up at auction because it reminded me of the one I grew up with. This
is very similar to Cowboy’s.”
Danny sipped his drink and looked around, thinking…not sure what to think. Since he was a little boy he had been told stories of family history, and he was certain of the facts he’d heard. The statue in his father’s den had belonged to Cowboy Parker. Could there be two similar statues? Could his grandfather have lied to him because he was jealous that David had been given the statue instead of him? Would it surprise him if he had? This man had helped perpetrate a multimillion-dollar fraud, one that had been ongoing since before his birth. What did a little lie about a bronze statue matter when compared to that?
He didn’t even have to ask for Sandy to elaborate about Cowboy and his Remington; she just continued to talk. “Cowboy was given that moniker because of his fascination with the American West. He loved cowboys and Indians, horses and guns. Throughout his life he collected pieces of American history—Civil War artifacts, guns, anything with a Western theme. One of his prize possessions was from the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago. It was, of course, a huge event. Bear took the family, and while he met with President Cleveland, Cowboy was treated to a private display of marksmanship by none other than Annie Oakley.”
At the mention of the fair, Danny’s heart nearly stopped, and he looked at the drinks Sandy had poured, anxious for something very strong to calm his nerves. It couldn’t be that, could it?
Sandy placed their drinks on a tray and carried it into her living room, and Danny tried to appear calm as he took a gulp from the heavy crystal martini glass.
“What did he get at the fair? What was his prize possession?” Danny asked, afraid to know the answer.
“Annie signed a poster for him, one of the promotional fliers. Then she stepped back a hundred paces, and while Buffalo Bill Cody held it by the edge, Annie shot a hole through the poster, right above the ‘I’ in her name. She essentially dotted the ‘I’ with a bullet hole.” Sandy shook her head and smiled.
“Oh, wow!” Angie exclaimed. “That’s incredible. Do you think she did that all the time, or was that something special she did for Cowboy?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve looked for something like it over the years, at auctions and at exhibits, and I’ve never seen another. I think it was something special, and Cowboy thought it was something special, because he kept that poster until the day he died. He willed it to my father.”
“Where is it now?” Angie asked, and then her hand flew to her mouth and her shoulders sagged in frustration. “No! Don’t even tell me, Mom.”
Sandy sighed. “Right beside the Remington, at the bottom of the river.” Her voice was husky and clearly she fought hard to keep her composure. Even after all the time that passed, her anguish was still there, and very evident to both Angie and Danny.
Danny hadn’t said a word, but he’d been listening closely. Sandy was right, Danny realized, but wrong as well. The bullet-riddled poster of the 1893 World’s Fair was right beside the Remington bronze of a cowboy on a horse. It wasn’t at the bottom of the river, though. It was on the wall of his father’s study.
Danny excused himself to use the bathroom. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, and staring up at the ceiling, he let out a long sigh. If he wasn’t concerned about his father’s involvement in the shooting before, he’d have to be blind to ignore the possibility now. Not only did Dan have Sandy’s land, but he had her art as well. The next question was how the hell his grandfather had managed to get his hands on the art?
He needed to get out of this place, so he could think and absorb all of these confusing facts.
A splash of water on his face did wonders to calm him, and he felt a bit more in control of his emotions when he found Sandy and Angie once again in the living room. Before he left, he wanted to give Sandy the information she’d asked him for. He removed the receipt for the watches from his duffel and handed it to her.
“Whatcha got?” Angie asked.
Danny explained to her about the Parker family heirlooms. Sandy and Angie leaned close together to read the simple document, and when they finished both leaned back to sip their drinks. In examining the receipt, both women reached the same conclusion he had—that Cowboy’s watch must have been somehow different from the others.
Shaking his head, Danny finally smiled as he explained. “That’s what I thought, too. The truth is, Cowboy’s watch was identical to the two he had made for Daniel and Dale. It was David’s watch that was different.”
Cocking her head, Sandy seemed to be thinking as she stared at him for a moment, and he watched as her eyes opened wide. She set her glass down and leaned back, studying him. “How so?”
Danny’s smile was genuine as he shared this secret with them. “It was made with the winding stem on the left hand side. David was a lefty!”
“Oh, my God,” Sandy said. She brought her hand to her mouth and studied the majestic Remington bronze, remembering quietly for a few moments. Then she turned her attention back to her companions and shared some of her memories with them. “I remember Grandfather holding his rifle, sighting down the long barrel as we shot at targets in the woods near the lodge, how it roared as he pulled the trigger with his left index finger. And the golf clubs he played with. He’d look up to my grandmother after a shot, silently seeking her praise. I can remember the gun and the clubs, which were custom made for him, the lefty. So was the watch. The others were standard side-winding watches, but Grandfather’s was different. The stem of his pocket watch was on the left. Just like the one Robbie Burns showed me at Riverview.”
She stood and paced in front of him and Angie as she told them about the watch she’d discovered in Robbie’s possession.
“So the watch is your grandfather’s!” Angie exclaimed.
“Holy shit!” Danny chimed in, reassuring them both that, to his knowledge, David’s was the only one made that way. And by studying the receipt, the three of them agreed that had to be the case. The alteration in design had increased the price of David’s watch by an additional 20 percent over the cost of the three others. The lot of four dozen cost about half the price of the four made for the Parker family. The receipt seemed to be proof positive that David’s was the only left-handed watch made.
“Mom,” Angie asked softly, “how could this guy have gotten your grandfather’s watch?”
Chapter Sixteen
The Last Goodbye, June 22, 1972
“Here,” Jeannie said as she handed Sandy a piece of paper, sniffling. “This is Aunt Elsie’s phone number. Call me as soon as you get to your uncle’s.”
The worry in Jeannie’s eyes brought tears to Sandy’s. For a moment she was tempted to go with Jeannie, but she couldn’t do that. As tough as Nellie seemed, downstairs at this very moment giving orders to workers and directing the evacuation, her strength wouldn’t hold. She hadn’t been the same person since her husband’s death, and the stress of a flood was enough to put even a well woman over the edge. Sure, Nellie had suffered through floods before, but she’d always had David beside her to carry half the load. Even with Sandy there to help, Nellie still felt responsible for running the show. How long she could keep going was unknown, and Sandy had to be there when her grandmother grew weary.
She’d already invited Jeannie to join them in the Poconos, but Jeannie’s parents wanted her close by during the impending crisis. Sandy understood that, but it would still be hard on them to be apart.
Opening her arms wide, she pulled Jeannie close. Her bedroom was dark, illuminated by a single candle on the dresser. The foreman from the power company had been by earlier to shut off their power, so the house didn’t have any light. The power that supplied the streetlights was disconnected as well, so only darkness seeped through the windows. With the pounding rain falling, there wasn’t a beam of starlight or moonlight to brighten this dreary night.
Furniture from the first floor—a dozen pieces from the dining room, the den, and the living room—had all been moved to the second floor, along with boxes of dishes and cryst
al from the curio cabinet and lamps and paintings and pictures. Stacked as they were, the combination cast strange shadows in the candlelight.
Sandy kissed Jeannie’s hair. Jeannie was tall at five feet eight inches, but Sandy had her by two inches. It was enough to tease Jeannie about, but in truth they were the perfect size for each other. Perfect for hugging, perfect for kissing, perfect for cuddling, perfect for making love. Her lips were just above Jeannie’s ear and she whispered into it. “It’ll just be a few days.”
Jeannie pulled her tighter and whispered back. “Maybe, maybe not. They say this is going to be a bad one, and remember ’64? We weren’t able to move home for months. I can’t go months without sleeping next to you. Shit, I can’t go hours without wanting you.” A hint of a smile indicated Jeannie was teasing. She might whine, but in the end Jeannie was tough and would do what had to be done.
Sandy laughed at her humor, but in fact, she was just as worried as Jeannie was. The rain had been relentless and the river had risen fast, and she’d heard predictions for a record flood as well. While they would all flee to high ground and survive the river’s wrath, their homes would stand and do battle with the Susquehanna. When it was over, the town would look like it’d gone fifteen rounds with the heavyweight champion, and no one would have won the match.
Even though her heart held these fears, Sandy hid them from the woman she loved. What was the sense of causing Jeannie more worry?
They separated as they heard footsteps on the stairs, and Sandy went into the hallway to direct the workers. The Burns brothers, Robbie and his older brother Billy, were struggling under the weight of the large Remington statue of a cowboy on his horse. This piece of art wasn’t the most valuable one in the house, but it had been her grandfather’s favorite. She directed the two men into her bedroom, and they placed the statue on her dresser, at the back of the room near the door to the balcony. When they’d unburdened themselves, they returned to the first floor for another load.
