Dandelion Summer

by Mary Ellen Bramwell

  “I read the part where your grandfather testified,” Zane said. “It’s not very long. His own attorney asked him just a few questions. Here’s what it says:”

  Attorney Peter Bruce: You just heard these two men testify against you. Do you remember them in the bar?

  William Knight: Yes. I hadn’t met them before, but they were in the bar. They bought us, George and me, some drinks.

  Bruce: Just stick with the question at hand. Now, did they seem like the type that would come running if they heard screams or a scuffle?

  Knight: Well, sure, I suppose so.

  Bruce: Why did you go out drinking that night? Were you trying to settle a fight with your friend George?

  Knight: No, not at all. My lawyer—not you—my other lawyer invited the two of us to meet him for drinks that night.

  Bruce: Why did he invite you?

  Knight: We were celebrating.

  Bruce: What were you celebrating?

  Knight: Well … It’s kind of like we’d just worked out some details of my wife’s will.

  Bruce: But your lawyer wasn’t at the bar. How can you explain that?

  Knight: When we got to the bar, he wasn’t there, but he’d left a message with the bartender. He’s the one who passed it along to us that my lawyer couldn’t make it after all, but that we were to enjoy a couple rounds on him.

  Bruce: Was this a written note?

  Knight: No, the bartender just relayed the message.

  Bruce: Can you explain why the bartender doesn’t remember any of that?

  Knight: I guess you’d have to ask him that. I can’t account for another man’s memory.

  Bruce: Your honor, I wonder if I might have a recess to confer with my client.

  Zane set down the pages he’d been reading from. “That’s basically it. The judge grants it, and next thing you know, they have a plea deal.”

  “I’m not too fond of that lawyer. He didn’t sound like he was helping your dad’s case,” Aunt Dory said.

  “No,” Mom said, “but I’m not sure how he could have helped.”

  “What was that about Grandma’s will? What details had to be worked out?” Madelyn said.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think there was much to it. It had been read long before then. So, I honestly don’t know what he was talking about.”

  “And why would his lawyer invite both of them and then not show up? Even more than that, what did Mr. Holliwell have to do with Grandma’s will?” No one had an answer to that.

  “You know, Madelyn, I should probably ask the lawyer who handled Mom’s estate about that. He ought to know what they were celebrating, and he can tell us why George Holliwell was invited. It may have been just one of those ‘bring a friend along’ kind of things, but he could tell us either way.”

  “What I want to know,” Daniel chimed in, “is about Grandpa being drunk. I’ve seen drunk people on TV. Sometimes they can’t even stand up or hold a pen to write their own names. How could Grandpa hold a knife? And if he was so drunk, how would he be strong enough to stab his friend? Wouldn’t he just fall over if he tried?”

  Those were very good questions—ones they were surprised no one had thought to ask before.

  It was a lot of food for thought, and they took their time chewing on it. The more they learned, the more questions they had, and the more questions they had, the more elusive the answers became.

  Mom was the first to break the silence. “I wish I’d talked about this when it happened. I imagine it would have been easier to get to the bottom of it then. The trial, the testimony given, all of it, just flew right over my head.” She was shaking her head. “It’s not that I didn’t understand what was going on, I just couldn’t believe it was real. It felt like a horrible nightmare, and I was just certain I was going to wake up any minute.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine how it made you feel, dear,” said Aunt Dory. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m sure your reaction was normal. And it’s not likely your father would have been any more eager to talk to you then than he is now.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “But that’s not true, Mom,” Madelyn said. “Grandpa decided not to talk to us when he heard about his house being broken into. Before that, I think he wanted to talk. That’s why he sent the letters.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “So, what next?” Madelyn said.

  “Let’s call that lawyer,” Mom said.

  Tuesday

  The next morning brought with it too much idle time. Mom had gone back to their house the previous afternoon and with Madelyn’s help had looked up her father’s lawyer, a Mr. Ross Musil. His secretary had been happy to set up an appointment for them. They would be visiting with him later in the afternoon.

  Breakfast had concluded all too soon, and everyone appeared weary in waiting, wanting to move forward in understanding and unable to focus on the typical distractions of toys and games. Even Daniel seemed unable to devise any form of mischief.

  Mom was the only one who seemed energetic. Madelyn couldn’t help but notice the recent changes in her. She was gaining confidence in her world and her apparent place in it. Despite the concerns about Grandpa and the troubles swirling around them, there was a new spring to her step and a determination in her look and bearing. She was smiling more, talking more, doing everything more. A few days before, she’d even carried on a conversation with the store clerk who bagged her groceries instead of the hasty, “Thank you,” as she scooped up her bags to leave. Like a newfound butterfly, she was emerging from her forgotten chrysalis.

  While Mom and Aunt Dory finished up the breakfast dishes, Daniel had been tasked with washing the kitchen table. He was swirling the washcloth around in lazy circles, if anything, spreading the mess instead of cleaning it up. Jillian was sitting at the table while Madelyn braided Jillian’s hair

  “Dory, do you think I could read some of those children’s books you wrote?” Mom said once they finished. The early reading books around their house had gained new life. Mom couldn’t get enough of them and had taken to gathering the books along with one or more of her children to read them to.

  “I might be able to find a few,” Aunt Dory said with a twinkle. “Come with me.”

  “Would you three like to join me?” Mom said.

  Daniel didn’t need to be asked twice, quickly dropping his washcloth and leaving the room all in the same motion.

  “I’ll just finish Jilly’s hair. We’ll be there in a second,” Madelyn said.

  But it was only a few moments later when Daniel burst back into the kitchen. “You gotta come here. Mom’s trying to figure something out.”

  Mom was sitting on the couch, a book open in her lap. Biting her lip and twirling a finger in her hair, she glanced up as they came in. “I remembered something, only I can’t remember all of it.” She pointed to the page she was reading. “This word—keep—it was on that note.”

  “What note?” Madelyn said.

  “The note that was passed to my father’s defense attorney at the end of his trial. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but one of the words was keep.”

  “Really? What else did it say?” Mom raised her eyebrows at Madelyn. “Oh, sorry. Dumb question. Do you know how many words it had on it?”

  Mom paused, trying to piece it together in her mind. “Keep was the first word,” she finally said, “and I’m pretty sure there were two more words. It wasn’t much of a note, now that I think of it. What can you say in three words? I should have realized it wasn’t about any new evidence, but …” She shrugged her shoulders. “I just didn’t.”<
br />
  “It’s okay, Mom,” Jillian said. “I wouldn’t have thought so either.” She probably didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, but she was trying to make Mom feel better.

  Mom was thinking hard and started to mumble to herself then inexplicably got up and walked out of the room. They could hear her calling, “Dory, I need you to help me figure something out.”

  When Mom didn’t return, they went searching for her. Mom and Aunt Dory were huddled over the kitchen table, talking back and forth about ways to decipher the note. Aunt Dory was writing different letters in various ways to see if they jogged a memory. When she showed Mom a lower case “m”, Mom grabbed her hand. “Stop! I remember the mountains, at least that’s what the ‘m’ looked like to me.”

  “I can see that. You wouldn’t have been thinking in terms of letters.”

  “Yes, there was definitely an ‘m’ in the second word, but I’m not sure what else went with it.”

  “Well, what about the last word?”

  “I think it started or ended with one of those hand letters,” Mom said.

  Madelyn had no clue what she was talking about, but Aunt Dory apparently understood. She had Mom hold her hands out in front of her and make them into fists with her thumbs pointing upwards then turned the hands inward toward each other. With her left hand, she’d formed a “b” while her right hand looked like a “d.”

  “What are you doing?” Madelyn said.

  “Her brain mixes up letters like b and d, but if you recite the alphabet in order, you get ‘a’ then ‘b,’ ” Aunt Dory said, pointing to Mom’s left hand. “Then ‘c’ and the other hand, ‘d.’ This is just a way to visualize the letters and keep them straight.” Turning back to Mom, she said, “Okay, Rachel, picture the word in your mind. Which hand looks like the right letter?”

  Mom stared at her hands then gradually lifted her right hand. “It was definitely this one. It was a ‘d.’ I’m sure of it. And there was a circle, I mean an ‘o’ and a snake, an ‘s.’ I think there was another letter too—like a circle, but not quite.”

  “How about an ‘e?’ ” Aunt Dory said, writing it for Mom to see.

  “Yeah, that would fit.”

  “That might make does or even dose.” Aunt Dory wrote out the words. “Is it one of these?”

  “It could be. But what does it mean? Keep … something … does or dose? Keep my dose, maybe? That doesn’t make any sense.” She was shaking her head. “But you know, I can’t get rid of the feeling it’s important.”

  “Why?” Daniel said.

  “I don’t know. It’s something in the way the note was passed, I think. It was furtive, sly almost. That’s why I took notice. It was around the time of sentencing, but it wasn’t the normal shuffling of paper. This was off. You know, now that I think of it, it didn’t even come from anyone at the table with him. The note came from the public area, from the area where I sat.”

  “Like a spectator?”

  “Yes, I think so, but I’m assuming not some idle observer.”

  “Do you know who it was? The person who gave him the note?” Daniel said.

  “I don’t. I was so surprised, or more likely hopeful about the note, that I only remember the hand reaching forward. I must have seen the person, but I don’t remember him.” Everyone sat silently thinking. “I wish I knew what it meant.” They all nodded, feeling exactly the same way.

  . . .

  The one thing trying to decipher the note had accomplished was helping time pass. Before they knew it, it was lunchtime and then time for Mom and Madelyn to leave. As they were heading out the door, Zane called Madelyn to wish them luck.

  They arrived right on time at the red brick law offices of Mr. Musil and his partners. Stepping into the brightly-lit interior, his secretary immediately ushered them back to his office. He stood up to greet them from behind his mahogany desk with a big smile on his face—as if his old client wasn’t wasting away in jail. “What can I do for you today?” he said, motioning them to sit in the two leather chairs facing his desk.

  “We’re here about my father.” A cloud passed across his features, but only momentarily. “We just have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “About what?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about my dad, his trial, and such. I didn’t really process it at the time, but now … well, I’m trying to understand it. I should have asked you sooner, but in his trial, he mentioned going out to celebrate something getting resolved with my mother’s will. What was the trouble? I thought everything was straightforward with her will.”

  “Well, yes, it was.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what he was referring to. Everything with the will was resolved right away. There were no issues with it.”

  “That’s strange. Then why did you invite him out for drinks that night?”

  “The night George was killed?”

  “Yes, that night. What other night would I be talking about.”

  “But I didn’t. I don’t know anything about that.”

  “But my father said –”

  “I don’t know what he said. I wasn’t at the trial. Honestly, William is my friend. All I know is I didn’t invite him out that night.”

  “But there was a message from you at the bar and everything,” Madelyn interjected. “He said you were celebrating something, and that Mr. Holliwell was invited too. You must know something. You just called him George. So, you knew his neighbor.”

  Mr. Musil didn’t have a response right away. His eyes darted from Madelyn to her mom and back again. “That has nothing to do with this. That’s between me and William.”

  “We’re not so sure about that,” Mom said. “Can you tell us what he might have been celebrating?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Madelyn said, standing up from her chair.

  When he remained silent, Mom said, “Well, we appreciate your time. Is there anything else you can tell us?” When he simply shook his head in response, Mom said, “Thank you.” She stood up to join Madelyn. “Oh, by the way, do you happen to know anything about his defense attorney, Mr. Peter Bruce?”

  “I only know of him in passing. He works around the corner from here, so we run into each other on occasion.” Mr. Musil was breathing easier and had settled comfortably back into his office chair.

  “Did you recommend him?”

  “I imagine I did.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, my secretary has a list of criminal defense attorneys that I hand out when needed. He must be on the list. Probably just picked the first one off the top.”

  “Okay. Well, thank you for your concern,” Mom said.

  When they’d made it out to the hallway, Madelyn pulled her mother aside. “What do you mean, ‘Thank you for your concern.’? He didn’t seem to care much at all.”

  “He’s been friends with your grandpa for a long time. I’m sure he does care in his own way.” Then Mom moved past her down the hall, leaving Madelyn unconvinced, but powerless to argue.

  As Madelyn reluctantly followed, she was surprised to see her mother stop at his secretary’s desk. “Hello. Daphne, is it?”

  “Yes,” his secretary replied.

  “We were just in Mr. Musil’s office. He said he would have given my father a list of defense attorneys. Do you happen to have a copy of that list?”

  “Of course.” She pulled open a filing cabinet behind her and located the paper she was looking for. “Here’s a copy. Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, that should be everything. Thank
you so much.”

  . . .

  “Why did you want that?” Madelyn said once they were outside.

  “I’m just trying to examine every detail. Here,” she said, handing the paper to Madelyn, “Pop’s defense attorney was named Mr. Bruce. Can you see that name anywhere? I’m sure you can find it faster than I can.”

  Madelyn took the paper and quickly scanned it. “Well, he’s certainly not at the top of the list. If it were in alphabetical order, he might be, but it isn’t. Oh, here he is, on the second page.”

  “I wonder why Pop picked him.” She was deep in thought. “Maybe Mr. Bruce knows. Let’s go ask him,” she said. “If his office is just around the corner, which way do you think we should go?”

  Madelyn located the address from the paper they’d been given, and in a few minutes they were standing outside a dilapidated building. Its masonry was cracking, and some of the brick facing had fallen to the ground where it lay in broken pieces at their feet. Weeds were pushing their way through the brick remnants and other cracks in the cement. In front of them was a door with number 312 painted in fading letters on the glass. No name accompanied it, but the number matched the address from the sheet. It stood in stark contrast to the offices they’d just left. The cold exterior did nothing to encourage them to enter.

  Mom took a deep breath and pulled on the door. It stuck, but eventually creaked open. Tentatively, they stepped inside. The air was stale with the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat—a sense of desperation accompanying it. “Haven’t you been here before?” Madelyn was whispering without knowing why she did so.

  “No. Pop didn’t want me to be part of any of his meetings. He was fine with my attending the trial, but that’s as far as he wanted me involved. I’m wishing now that hadn’t been the case, although I doubt it would have made a difference.”