Darkness, Sing Me a Song--A Holland Taylor Mystery

by David Housewright

  I was able to secure the same chair at the same table where I had sat before the meeting and observed it all over a double bourbon on the rocks. The place became increasingly crowded and noisy. They had cranked up the karaoke machine, and patrons with iffy voices were singing songs that only vaguely sounded like something I’d heard before. Most of the other customers ignored them. I thought about going to my room for a bit of peace and quiet. Lord knows it had been a long day. Except I didn’t want to miss Cynthia.

  I watched the door. It opened and Esther Tibbits entered, a not entirely unwelcome sight in her blue-on-blue ensemble. She had arrived sans Kaufman and Palo, and for the first time I saw her smile. Friends young and old, male and female shook her hand and hugged her shoulders as if they hadn’t seen her for a while and had missed her. She proved to be more popular than I would have guessed, seeing how many townspeople probably thought she had gone over to the dark side.

  She swiveled her head as if she were looking for someone and paused when she saw me. She spent the next ten minutes glancing my way while pretending not to. After a while, she separated herself from the group and started to maneuver around the tables to where I sat. She halted when someone beat her to me.

  “Taylor, what are you doing here?” Devon Barrington said.

  She and Ophira had somehow managed to enter the place without my noticing.

  “I came to hear you speak to the crowd,” I said.

  I stood, and Devon gave me a hug. I didn’t expect it and did a poor job of hugging back. The expression on Ophira’s face suggested that she was alarmed by the public display, and I quickly unhanded the girl. I offered them both a seat.

  “Did you see me?” Devon asked.

  “I was up in the balcony. You were great.”

  “Omigod, I was so scared.”

  “You didn’t look it.”

  “I was shaking like a leaf. I could barely unfold my mother’s note. Can you believe what she made me read? Omigod.”

  A waitress appeared.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked.

  “I’ll have what you’re having,” Devon said.

  “No, you will not,” her companion said.

  Devon shook her shoulder.

  “Ophiraaaaaaaa,” she said. “It’s Wisconsin. Everyone drinks in Wisconsin.”

  “Everyone but you.”

  “Taylor, say something.”

  “The young lady will have an iced tea, unsweetened, with a wedge of lemon,” I said, ordering the same drink that Cynthia Grey always requested. “Ophira?”

  Ophira ordered a Coke. The waitress wrote it down and went away.

  “What are you doing here, Taylor?” Devon asked.

  “I told you.”

  “No, seriously.”

  “The representatives for U.S. Sand who were on the stage tonight…”

  “Yeah.”

  “They were the ones who were meeting with your brother in the conference room the day you and Emily went to visit him, the day she became so upset.”

  “The day before she was killed? I didn’t know that. The receptionist told us that Joel was in a meeting. She didn’t tell us who with. Do you think…”

  “I don’t know what to think, yet. I’m here because they’re here. Maybe there’s a connection, maybe there’s not.”

  “I hope you can prove they did it. Otherwise…”

  The waitress returned with the drinks and set them on the table. Devon didn’t touch her tea. Instead, she merely stared at it. I had no idea what thoughts were spinning in her head, although I didn’t think they were pleasant.

  “You don’t speak much, do you, Ophira,” I said just to be saying something.

  “I speak when I have something to say,” she told me.

  Devon shook the woman’s shoulder again.

  “She’s upset because Mother made her come with me,” she said.

  “Don’t be saying that,” Ophira said.

  “You know it’s true. You have your own life. You don’t want to babysit me.”

  “Your mother asked if I would look out for you, and I said yes. I always say yes.”

  “Because you were afraid she’d fire you. She might have, too.”

  “Because I like you.”

  “You do?”

  “Because you do need someone to look out for you.”

  “Oh, Ophira.”

  Devon wrapped an arm around Ophira and rested her head on the woman’s shoulder. Ophira shook it off.

  “Stop it now,” she said. “People are watchin’.”

  I wondered if she did it because, like me, she didn’t approve of public displays of affection or because she was the only nonwhite person in the room, probably the entire county. Devon’s response was to kiss Ophira’s cheek like she meant it.

  “So there,” she said.

  Ophira shook her head and drank her Coke.

  “Where are you staying?” Devon asked. “Taylor, are you staying here? You should come with us back to Mereshack. Really. We have tons of room. Don’t we, Ophira?”

  “I’m sure he’s made other plans,” Ophira said.

  “That’s just your way of saying no. What are you afraid of? Do you think he’ll ravish us in our sleep? Taylor, would you ravish us in our sleep?”

  “Not tonight,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “I haven’t decided yet, either. Ophira probably wants to leave.”

  “Child,” Ophira said.

  “I think I’d like to hang out for a while,” Devon said. “It’s so nice up here. The river…”

  “I have a question.”

  “What?”

  I pointed at Esther Tibbits.

  “Do you see that woman dressed in blue standing over there talking to the two men?” I asked.

  “The one with the big tits?” Devon’s hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes glistened with both terror and glee. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m beginning to sound more and more like my mother.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “What about the woman with, er, the woman dressed in blue?”

  “Do you know her?”

  “I don’t think so. Should I?”

  “Not necessarily. She works for the two men from U.S. Sand.”

  “Was she in the conference room, too?”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “Huh.”

  “She also lives here. Or at least she did.”

  “In Arona? Kinda makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  Devon looked me in the eye and grinned as if we were sharing a secret that no one else knew.

  “I get it now,” she said.

  “Don’t go jumping to conclusions,” I said.

  The man singing karaoke—badly—reached for a high note—also badly—causing Devon to turn in her seat toward the stage.

  “Omigod,” she said. “I’m next. Come on, Ophira.” She grabbed the older woman’s hand and gave it a yank. “I love to sing. I sing all the time around the house. It drives my mother crazy. See you later, Taylor.”

  I watched as the two women made their way across the room. A few moments later, the presence of a third woman at the table turned my head.

  “Good evening, Esther,” I said.

  She seemed surprised by the greeting.

  “Um, yeah, good evening,” she said.

  “Have a seat.”

  “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure. Have a seat.”

  “It’s important.”

  “If you care to sit down…”

  Esther sat reluctantly, occupying the edge of the chair as if she were preparing to jump up at a moment’s notice. I fumbled with my smartphone. She knew what I was going to ask and turned her head away.

  “I don’t know who she is,” Esther said.

  “All things considered, I’m having a hard time believing you.”

&nb
sp; “What happened tonight, and before in St. Paul, that has nothing to do with her.”

  “What does it have to do with?”

  “Can I speak to you in private?”

  “We are speaking in private.”

  “I mean outside where there’s no one around to see.”

  “So your brother and his friend can jump me in the parking lot? Absolutely not.”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “You’re saying you didn’t come here to lure me into their clutches?”

  “We just want to talk.”

  “We?”

  “I meant me.”

  “So talk.”

  “Not here.”

  “How about the city jail? Chief McMahan wanted to arrest your brother tonight, but I wouldn’t let her. I could change my mind.”

  “Taylor…”

  I pulled up Emily’s pic and showed it to her.

  “Tell me who—”

  I didn’t even get a chance to finish the sentence before Esther finally launched herself off the chair and started walking away. She spoke over her shoulder.

  “Never mind,” she said. “Just never mind.”

  Esther moved past her friends without acknowledging them and went out the front entrance.

  From the stage, Devon Barrington crooned in a sweet and surprisingly strong voice “Let It Go” from the Disney movie Frozen—an apt choice, I decided, given her attitude toward life.

  Finally Cynthia Grey arrived at my table.

  “Good evening,” she said.

  From the speakers, Devon sang “… the cold never bothered me anyway.”

  I stood, said, “Good evening,” and pulled out a chair for her. I’m not sure why. Force of habit, I guess.

  I caught Devon watching us as I returned to my own seat. She smiled broadly, jabbed a finger in Cynthia’s direction, and mouthed the word “Wow.” I waved her away. She smiled some more and blew me a kiss. A few moments later, Ophira ushered her out of the resort.

  Cynthia gestured at the untouched glass of iced tea on the table.

  “Is that for me?” she asked.

  “Who else?”

  “Esther Tibbits. I saw the two of you talking. She seemed upset when she left. What was that about?”

  “She wanted to have a private conversation with me. I declined the invitation.”

  “I wonder why.”

  “Why she wanted to get me alone or why I blew her off?”

  “Your hand is swollen. You scraped the skin on your knuckles.”

  “Huh. I must have hit something.”

  “So, basically, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Neither have you. You’re still as beautiful as ever.”

  “Thank you, Taylor, for saying so even though I know it isn’t true. I also want to thank you for what you said earlier. About being proud of me. I’ve been thinking about it all night. You’re the only one who’s ever said that to me, I think. In fact, of all the men I’ve known, and I’ve known so very many, you’ve been the kindest, the most considerate, and the most trustworthy.”

  “Unfortunately, you also want me to be the most forgetful.”

  Cynthia began stirring her iced tea with her fingernail, a habit that had never bothered me until now.

  “Your mother never liked me,” she said.

  “My mother didn’t like Laura, either. At least not until Jennifer was born. My father, on the other hand…”

  Cynthia stirred her drink some more.

  “Where are the boys?” I asked.

  “The riffraff I hang out with now? I sent them home. For the most part, the town hall went very well. Why take the risk of losing what they gained by getting into a confrontation with a disgruntled resident? Besides, it’s only a two-hour drive back to the Cities.”

  “What about Esther?”

  “Apparently they wanted her to run a few errands at their field office tomorrow. Something about files. Taylor? Are you pumping me for information?”

  “Who, me? How could you ask such a thing?”

  “It reminds me of when we first met. As I recall, you were investigating a murder back then, too.”

  “Good times.”

  “Anyway”—Cynthia tapped the tabletop as if she were demanding my undivided attention—“now I get to use their room.”

  “What will you use their room for?”

  “The possibilities are endless.”

  “That sounds like an invitation.”

  “The physical aspect of our relationship was never a problem.”

  “What happens in Arona stays in Arona, is that it?”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m just getting used to life without you.”

  “I wish I could say the same. All the time we were together, when I wasn’t with you, I was alone. Now I’m alone all the time.”

  “Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?”

  “Fuck, Taylor.”

  I didn’t smile, yet it amused me just the same to see Cynthia’s carefully constructed façade of upper-class gentility slip and the street kid peek over the top. She worked so hard and paid so much money to make sure the façade never slipped.

  “I loved you, Cynthia,” I said. “More to the point, I liked you. I liked you for the very things that you’re trying so hard to hide from the rest of the world. Imagine breaking up with a guy over that. Twice.”

  “I hate that woman.”

  “What you’ve accomplished, what you continue to accomplish—”

  “It’s not enough.”

  Cynthia took a long pull on the iced tea. I knew she was wishing it were something stronger.

  “How long has it been now?” I said.

  She knew exactly what I was asking.

  “Twelve years, eleven months, nine days,” Cynthia said.

  “You’ve kept track.”

  “If you’re an addict, you had fucking better keep track.”

  “Why would you be ashamed of that, knowing precisely when you had your last drink?”

  “Not ashamed, but … I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why not?”

  Cynthia glanced around the room, suddenly fearful that someone else might be listening. She leaned in.

  “I don’t want anyone to know. I would think you’d understand that by now.”

  “I do understand. You never knew your father, and your mother abandoned you at age six, leaving you in the care of elderly grandparents who both died when you were twelve.”

  “Taylor…”

  “I understand you’re the product of a brutal, loveless childhood and an adolescence squandered on the street. I know that you attempted to take your life on your seventeenth birthday. I also know that the experience shocked you into a peculiar kind of sanity and ignited a passion for survival that still burns red hot. I know that you embraced the straight life with both hands, earned your GED, and put yourself through college and law school on strength of will alone.”

  “How did I pay for my tuition?” she said. “Do you know that I danced on tables in a fucking strip club in front of assholes who threw dollar bills at me?”

  “That was then. Now you’re what my father calls ‘a woman of substance.’”

  “He doesn’t know about me.”

  “He knows what he sees.”

  “He’d change his mind if he saw what was underneath.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, he would. They all would.”

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it? That’s always been the problem. You want to hide the woman you once were. Bury her so deep that no one will ever find her. I know she’s there, though. It kills you that I know. Cynthia, I admire you so much.”

  “How can you if I don’t?”

  “Which brings us back to where we started. You’ve invested so much in yourself, hiring people to select your clothes and shop for furniture and teach you manners. Why not a therapist?”

  “I’ve had doctors. They locked me awa
y in a fucking asylum for six months, remember?”

  “Now here you are, a senior partner in one of the biggest and richest law firms in Minnesota.”

  “One thing has nothing to do with the other. Look, you’re trying to make me feel better about myself. I appreciate that, Taylor. You’ve always been good to me that way. If you really wanted to help a girl out, though, you’d come to my room.”

  “An out-of-town fling? Then what happens?”

  “Like I said, I could meet you on the sidewalk with a bottle of water when you run past my house.”

  “I can’t live like that. Not with you.”

  Cynthia reached across the table and took my hand. She squeezed it so hard it hurt.

  “I wish I were a different person,” she said.

  “If you were, I don’t think I’d love you as much.”

  She released my hand and left without another word.

  I finished my bourbon, thought about another, and decided against it. Instead, I went to my room, took a shower, and went to bed. I half expected Cynthia to call, but she didn’t. I was glad of that. I didn’t think I could say no to her again. As it was, it took me a long time to fall asleep. When I finally did, I slept better than I had in a long, long time.

  Do you want to hear something funny, though? Just before I dropped off, I remembered that I hadn’t called Alexandra Campbell like I promised. I took that as a good sign, thinking of a woman besides Cynthia.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The sign was large with white lettering on a red background, its message succinct: PRIVATE PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING. A gate, similar to the one that I had encountered at Mereshack, blocked the dirt road. Beyond the gate, the road curved down and to the right behind the trees and the tall grass and the brush. There was a small hut next to the gate with a chair where someone could sit, only it was empty.

  I spoke in a voice that wouldn’t have startled a dragonfly if it had been perched on my shoulder.

  “Hello, anyone there?”