Everybody Loved Roger Harden

by Cecil Murphey

  He shrugged exactly like Simon, so perfectly it was as if he had taken lessons. Then I really smiled.

  “Would you like to reverse roles?” he asked.

  “I’ll let you know if you’re not doing an adequate job,” I said. Okay, I gave him a third smile, and this time it was to deflect any offense my smart remark may have caused.

  His face showed me that he hadn’t been offended. I liked this guy even better. He could be direct, but he wasn’t offensive or defensive. He didn’t have that fragile male ego that jumped at every careless word. I wish he had been one of my blind dates instead of some of those vain, self-centered, over-the-hill jocks I had dated. Back inside the drawing room, Burton asked everyone to sit down. Three people came from the dining room with plates of food. Lenny had his plate so full I hoped he could balance everything until he sat down. No matter how fancy the meal, Roger always had Mrs. Wright cook a few Southern dishes, such as collard greens. Half of one plate contained the watery greens. I’ve been in the South all my life, but collard greens are far from my favorite food, and I hate the smell. I was glad I wasn’t near Lenny.

  Lenny sat on a straight-backed chair—as straight as those rococo chairs can be—and dug away without dropping a single pea or a tiny shard of lettuce. To his credit, he didn’t drip any of the vinegar water from the collards. I’ll say this for him—he sure knew how to handle his food.

  I thought it was odd that not everyone ate in the dining room, but now they came into the drawing room with mounds of food on their plates—even those who had already eaten. Roger never would have allowed them to do that. I wondered if that was the reason they did so now.

  They joined the others who sat and ate casually. Everyone seemed to have dropped the pretense. No one any longer made a show of being overcome by grief.

  I looked around and counted. We were eleven people. Everyone was in the room except Simon Presswood and Elaine Wright.

  I watched the way they ate. Dr. Dunn attacked his food as if it would run away from him. Wayne took dainty bites as if large ones would be too much to chew. Tonya Borders sat quite still, bent slightly forward as if she would repel anyone who tried to taste her food. Paulette White had a plate half filled with food, but she had made no attempt to eat anything. Reginald Ford was the only one who seemed to eat normally.

  It still seemed bizarre to me. Other than Jason and Amanda, they seemed untouched by the death of the man they all claimed to have loved. Occasionally, Amanda shed a few tears and Jason wrapped his arm around her to comfort her. He spoke softly, and I couldn’t hear what he said.

  “Thank you, dear,” she murmured several times.

  I was sure Burton would want to stop and get himself something to eat, but he didn’t. In fact, I’m not sure he ate all night. I had eaten plenty, but I went back to the kitchen for a large bowl of ambrosia—another dream from our superb cook. She used fruit and coconut, but she added some special ingredient that made me realize why my grandmother used to call it the food of the Greek gods.

  Even though I ate an immense amount of ambrosia, it still wasn’t enough. Gnawing hunger pains—or what I perceived as hunger pains—grabbed at my stomach. I had an energy bar in my pocket. I pulled it out and nibbled on it. I thought of going to the kitchen for more food, but I didn’t want to miss out on anything, and who knows what might happen while I was out of the room. I felt my other pocket and found three pieces of peppermint candy. I would be fine.

  Just then Tonya Borders put her plate on the table. She took off her glasses and put her head in her hands. I sensed she posed as a picture of grief more than she felt the emotion. Of course, Burton was directly in front of her, and I suspected she made the gesture for his benefit. She didn’t go into the grief act until Burton looked her way. As I watched, I thought, Honey, I doubt you ever feel any true emotion.

  Burton waited until she finished her melodramatic pose and had summoned a tear or two. She held a handkerchief in her right hand and gently wiped her eyes.

  “As each of you has talked about where you were and your relationship to Roger,” Burton said, and his gaze moved from face to face, “you made a point of saying how much you loved Roger.”

  “And of course we did, and I certainly do, and I’ll say it as often as you wish to hear the words,” Wayne spoke up. “He was my dearest friend, my closest associate, and—”

  “Excellent. Suppose we start with you. Tell us about your relationship with Roger.”

  Burton’s soft voice and smile would put anyone at ease. Burton, old boy, you are amazing, I thought. You make it clear what you want, but there’s something about the way you interact so that people don’t feel offended or intimidated.

  “To begin with,” Wayne said and paused to clear his throat. “I owed that wonderful man so much for his help through the years. In fact, many, many people owed Roger a great deal, you know, especially here in Glynn County.”

  “And why is that?” I asked.

  “I’ll tell you,” Beth interrupted. “More than anyone else, Roger has given so much to so many.” She sounded as if she were reading from a prompter. “For example, he invested millions to improve the coastal area and it has attracted more than twenty new businesses in the past two years.”

  “That’s correct,” Wayne said. “Another example is tourism. Because of his endeavors, tourism is on the rise by nearly 30 percent this year. He planned to bring in a regional opera company to attract tourists from November until March.”

  Whenever Wayne spoke, he pulled down on his vest. Maybe he thought it would hide his paunch. Although I had observed Wayne do that before, I now realized that was one of his frequent mannerisms.

  “In what way did he help business? What did he do?” Burton asked. As I watched, I knew he didn’t care about the answer. He simply wanted to keep Wayne Holmestead talking.

  “For one thing, he brought in a fish-canning factory. The experts said it couldn’t be done and there wouldn’t be enough business—”

  “But he proved them wrong,” Paulette said. “That was typical of his brilliance. And he was brilliant, you know. He made that factory profitable within the first year.” She dabbed her mouth gently with her napkin. “In case you are unaware, that was quite a financial achievement for such a short span of time.”

  “That’s not all,” Wayne said. “If you go down to the beach along the coast—anywhere south of Savannah—you’ll be amazed at how pristine the beaches are. He cleaned them up—every inch—and paid for everything himself. Jekyll Island and St. Simon’s Island used to get all the tourists because the beaches around Brunswick were dirty. The odor of dead fish repelled people.”

  “He was very shrewd, you know,” Beth Wilson said.

  “Beth is right,” Wayne said. “He had that uncanny sense of what would work. People had stopped visiting here more than thirty years ago. Roger changed that mind-set.” He paused and licked his lips, and it was obvious to me that this was also part of a well-rehearsed presentation. “There is also the matter of the—”

  “And you have been part of those projects, haven’t you?” Burton asked. He smiled and patted Wayne on the shoulder.

  “We were partners in the ventures. We wanted to help others and worked to benefit the people. We wanted unemployment to be less than 1 percent—perhaps that was not possible to achieve, but it was our goal. We cared about—”

  “Commendable. That’s truly humanitarian,” I said with some sarcasm in my voice.

  “We believed in serving others.” He either hadn’t gotten my sarcasm or ignored it.

  “Surely you made a few dollars,” Burton said. “Even with great humanitarian projects, there must have been opportunities for financial reward.”

  Good old Burton. He knows how to do it. I began to wonder if we were going to play good cop, bad cop.

  “Oh, well, of course, I’ve, uh, made money—not a great deal—but uh, I made money on my investments. That’s one incentive, but—”

  “He means h
e’s made a fortune, a very, very big fortune, by buying property along the coast,” Jason said. “As soon as he knew Dad was going to clean up the beaches, he bought everything he could, held them until after the cleanup, and resold them at exorbitant prices—”

  “That is not entirely accurate,” Wayne said. “I did buy property. Any astute businessman would. I—uh, had started to buy before—”

  “Stop lying!” Jason said. “That was part of what Dad got angry about. He had just learned that you bought all those properties near the ocean through some offshore corporation. You took advantage of local people until after—”

  “You were obviously eavesdropping. You nasty—”

  “Yeah, I was.” Jason gave him the full-mouth grin. His light brown eyes lit up, and he raised his chin as if to say, “So hit me.”

  “This—this vile boy grossly exaggerates—”

  “Perhaps we can change the tone of this interrogation or whatever it is,” Tonya said. “While I want to go on record”—she stared at Burton and then at me—“That is, if there is a record, I loved Roger. He trusted me and opened many doors of opportunity for my career. It would have been stupid of me to want to get rid of him.” She paused as if to make certain we understood. “I’ve been one of Roger’s lawyers—his most trusted lawyer—for nearly twenty years.” Her Slavic accent had disappeared somewhere after she said she wanted to go on record.

  I leaned forward, looked directly at Tonya, and said, “I think you wanted to tell us something before you launched into the matter of your close relationship with Roger.”

  Her stare might have frozen an adversary in litigation proceedings, but she didn’t intimidate me.

  “Uh, yes, I suppose you are correct.” She glared at me and took a deep breath. “All right, I shall tell you the truth: I came because I had no choice.” Her accent was extremely noticeable again. “I received a summons to attend.”

  “That is being a bit harsh,” Jeffery Dunn said. “I will not have my good friend’s reputation besmirched—”

  “You are a hypocrite,” she said softly, but her dark eyes expressed her venom. “Yes, it was an invitation—a written invitation, mind you—something I had never received in all my years of dealing with Roger, but still—”

  “We all received such an invitation.” Jeffery overcame his monotone to emphasize the last word.

  “You are too much, Jeffery. I am quite certain Dr. Burton will discover the truth, so we might as well speak up.” Tonya actually batted her eyes twice as she looked at Burton. “I shall then say it more plainly. I have worked for Roger for many years—as I have already stated. He did a great deal for my career, and I assume that’s true of the others. But through all those years, he treated us like indentured servants. I observed that he treated Simon and Elaine better than he did us.”

  “That information surprises me,” Burton said, “although I scarcely knew him.”

  “It’s true,” Amanda said. Jason had brought her a plate, although she had not eaten more than one or two bites. “He did treat us all rather shabbily.”

  “So you came because you were afraid of Roger?” I asked. “All of you?”

  “Of course they did!” Jason said. “They knew Dad could make them or break them financially. They may have despised him in their hearts, but if Dad had told them to, they would have crawled into the house on their knees.”

  “You are a rude child,” Beth said, but her face expressed nothing but sweetness. Was she some kind of Stepford Wives clone?

  “That is not exactly true, Jason. There was a reason we came—and just the eleven of us—and no one else,” Tonya said. “Roger had an announcement to make. It was something that involved all of us.”

  “How do you know that?” Amanda asked.

  “He added a handwritten note on my summons.” Tonya glared at Jeffery. “The message said, ‘I have something important to tell you and the others.’ Just that.”

  “A summons?” I asked.

  Her face hardened. “I would hardly call it anything else. Or perhaps you would prefer the word demand.”

  Five

  “A summons?” I repeated Tonya’s words. “Or a demand?”

  “What was the nature of the announcement?” Burton asked.

  “I have no idea,” she said.

  “Roger didn’t write warm, sweet notes,” Beth said. “So I assumed it was something—something ominous.” She said the handwritten note on her invitation read, “I plan to make an important announcement, and I want you here. It affects you.”

  “You mean you expected some kind of exposure?” I asked.

  Without changing a facial muscle, Beth said, “If you choose to say it that way.”

  “Did the rest of you receive a personal note with your invitation?” Burton asked.

  “I thought it was just a big joke,” Lenny said and laughed. But his laughter didn’t sound genuine.

  “Roger never joked about such things,” Reginald said. “In fact, I don’t think our dear, departed Roger ever joked about anything. And yes, I received a handwritten note in which he said he had an important announcement that would affect my life.”

  “I did too,” I said.

  “So did I,” Burton said. “It seemed slightly odd to me. You know, I’d met the man only once before. Do any of you know anything more about the announcement?”

  One way or another, everyone murmured that they didn’t know or said, “Nothing.”

  “That’s strange,” I said. “When I received my invitation” (and I emphasized that word), “I assumed it had something to do with a personal thing—something Roger and I had spoken about before. Obviously I was mistaken. Mine said he had something important to talk to me about, but it didn’t sound ominous. Apparently, it was something that affected all of us.”

  “Yes, strange,” said Lenny. “And I thought I was special and that he liked me the most!” He started to laugh, but even he realized it wasn’t funny.

  “Amanda, what about you?” I asked. “You’re his wife, so surely—”

  “I don’t know.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I had no idea. I didn’t get such a note. I mean, I’m his wife and—”

  Burton and I momentarily locked eyes. We realized Amanda had almost blurted out something and then censored herself.

  “He must have confided something to you, Amanda,” Jeffery said.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Leave her alone.” Jason handed her his white handkerchief, and she wiped her eyes. “Don’t you have any respect for her grief?”

  “It’s all right, dear,” she said. “I had no idea because I have not lived in this house for three weeks. Roger and I had a rather nasty row, and I moved to Savannah—”

  “That’s certainly news to me,” Paulette White said. “Dear Roger never said a word to me.”

  “And it’s none of your business either because—”

  Amanda held out her hand to silence her son. “I had already started divorce proceedings.”

  Paulette gasped.

  “I’ve never spoken about this to anyone—except to Jason, of course.”

  “And Roger hadn’t been much of a father to me—I mean, most of the time,” Jason said and turned to Burton.

  “It’s okay, son,” he said and wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder.

  “I’m ready to talk, and I’d like to talk. That may help me sort out things.” Amanda leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I might as well start down the line of truth. I want to tell you I had an extremely miserable life with Roger. For years, I’ve been careful to maintain a charade and mask my unhappiness.”

  “Yes, it must have been miserable counting all those millions!” Lenny said.

  “You really are obnoxious,” Reginald said.

  Lenny received enough glares that he mumbled, “Sorry,” and shut up.

  “He exerted a strange kind of control. I had to give him a reason every time I left the island. I had to account for
everything I did.” She started twisting Jason’s handkerchief the way she had her own at the table. “He didn’t mind my spending money—he actually encouraged me—and I was allowed to buy whatever I wanted.” She paused and opened her eyes. “I wonder if you heard what I just said?”

  “Heard every word,” Beth said. “Poor rich woman.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? I’ll make myself clearer. Spending his money was never an issue. What made my life so miserable was that I had to inform him first. Roger said inform, but he meant ask for permission and explain what I planned to do.”

  “I’m sure you’re just overwrought,” Paulette said, “and overstating—”

  “No, I’m not.” She glared at Paulette. “Did you know that I had to tell him which car I wanted to drive? He bought two cars for my use. We keep both at our private garage at dockside. They were his gift to me, he said, and for my use. My use. I was the only one who drove them, but—”

  “How sad, how very sad for you,” Tonya said, and this time she truly sounded like Greta Garbo. “I have seen your severe punishment. Your Aston Martin V12 and your Mercedes-Benz 30082 Roadster. Both of them, I believe, cost more than most people earn in a single year.”

  “I think you’ve missed the point, Tonya,” I said. “Let Amanda explain.”

  “Roger did provide those cars. He urged me to buy a Ferrari when I told him I was leaving. He thought material things mattered—as if another car would make me less miserable.”

  “I get the picture,” I said, “but I’m not sure everyone understands.”

  “It’s quite simple. I could have the best of anything, but I had to let him know which one I chose. Every time. Worse than that, he provided a palm pad with some kind of mini spreadsheet, and I had to list every place I stopped and jot down the mileage each time. When I left the car, the figures I wrote down had to match the mileage the car showed. I felt like a prisoner.”

  “Oh, my dear, dear Amanda. I had no idea,” Wayne said. “I’m sorry—”