A Scarlet Cord

by Deborah Raney

  “It seems pretty obvious what this is all about, Melanie!” Matthew knew he was shouting, but his sister’s naiveté appalled him, frightened him even.

  “Matthew, calm down … please …” Karly pleaded with him.

  Karly was seven months pregnant now. He knew she didn’t need the stress, but he had to try to talk some sense into Melanie.

  “Matt, I know it looks bad,” Melanie pleaded now. “I know it does. But I—I can’t explain how strongly I feel this … I’m just certain Joel did not take that money.” Conviction punctuated her words.

  She had told him a ludicrous story about some incident at a carnival when Joel had gone out of his way to return change to a food vendor who’d undercharged him. She was grasping at straws. He understood her need for closure, but this had been going on for too long. She should have moved on by now.

  “Besides, Matt,” Melanie was saying, “why would Joel go to all that trouble—changing his name and moving a thousand miles across the country—for less than fifteen thousand dollars? That doesn’t make sense at all. He could have had twenty times that if he’d just married me!”

  “He was probably on the run from some other heist! He had to move and change his name! People like that are professionals, Mel. Their talent is convincing people that they are trustworthy. Don’t you get it? For all you know, Joel set up that whole carnival vendor scenario.”

  Melanie sat staring out the window, her face a mask of misery.

  He sighed, willing himself to calm down. “Think about it, Melanie. Joel obviously changed his name shortly before he came to Silver Creek. This probably isn’t the first time he’s pulled a scam like this. Did you check the papers in Langston for similar stories? Maybe he took money from the college too. That would explain why he had to fake his death and disappear from there. Did you check on that? I’d be willing to bet the brother is in on this whole thing.”

  Matthew shook his head in frustration. What had his sister gotten herself involved in? She was playing detective, and if she didn’t have a nervous breakdown first, she was going to get herself killed. He wouldn’t be surprised if this Tim Bradford had had her tailed after she left his office. He’d even suggested the possibility to Melanie, but she seemed convinced that she hadn’t been followed. But if these men had the power to fake a death and create a new identity, who knew how far they would go when faced with the threat of being exposed?

  Melanie had come to him for help, yet if he did what he felt needed doing, she would surely think him a traitor. Melanie had become totally irrational where Joel Ellington—or whatever the man’s name was—was concerned. Someone needed to save her from herself.

  He went to her now, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Melanie,” he said, “I’ll do everything I can to straighten this out. Please just promise me that you will go back to Silver Creek and wait there. You’re in over your head here, Mel. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Let me see what I can find out. Maybe somebody at work has some connections in Manchester or in Langston.”

  “Oh, Matt. Would you really do that?”

  He looked at her and wondered how he could ever live up to the expression of longing and hope and trust he saw reflected in his sister’s eyes.

  “I’ll try,” he sighed. “That’s all I can promise.”

  “Mommy!”

  Melanie heard the precious voice before she spotted Jerica running down the concourse at the St. Louis airport. She quickened her pace and let her carry-on luggage slide to the floor as her daughter rushed into her arms. “Hi, sweetie. Boy, did I ever miss you!”

  “I missed you too, Mommy.”

  The airport was crowded on a Sunday evening. Jerica skipped happily among the rows of seats while they waited for Melanie’s luggage to show up on the carrousel.

  “How was your trip?” Erika asked.

  “It was … okay. It’s good to be home, though,” she said, anxious to change the subject. She hadn’t yet decided how much she would tell the LaSalles. If they weren’t any more sympathetic than Matt and Karly had been, she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell them anything. Maybe it would be best to wait until she found out what Matt might discover. “Was Jerica good for you?”

  “Oh, goodness,” Erika said. “When has she ever not been good for us?”

  Melanie forced a laugh. “Oh, I can think of a few times.”

  “Well, she was good as gold,” Erika said. “She missed you, though.”

  “Not as much as I missed her.”

  Finally her two large bags rolled into view. Jerry grabbed the heavier one; Melanie took the other. With Jerica under her grandmother’s watchful eye, they made their way to the parking lot.

  As they drove toward Silver Creek, Melanie’s mind swirled with all she’d discovered in the past days. She’d learned more about Joel in the past week than she had during the entire year she’d known him.

  And she was more confused than ever.

  Twenty-Five

  “The State calls Joseph Bradford.”

  The courtroom was warm, the air oppressive, and as he walked down the aisle that split the gallery, Joel tugged at his tie, fighting off the sense of panic that threatened to cut off his very breath. Stanley Difinni sat beside his attorneys at the defense table. Joel avoided looking in his direction. Soon enough, he would have to look into the eyes of the man responsible for Tori’s death.

  The case had been a year in the making, with delay after delay. But finally everything was going exactly as the prosecutor had hoped. As planned, Constance Green, Victoria’s neighbor, had positively identified Difinni as the man she’d seen going into Victoria Payne’s apartment early that Sunday morning. Even in the dim light of the streetlamp, the port-wine stain on the man’s face had been distinct—and memorable, Green had said.

  Speaking privately with Joel, Toliver surmised that Difinni had waited outside the restaurant the night of the murder—apparently with at least one accomplice—and followed the witnesses home. Because Joel had parked on a side street and left through the back door of Tori’s apartment, Difinni apparently believed he was still in the house. The fire he’d set was meant to kill them both, but by the time the newspapers reported only one fatality in the fire, Joel was in protective custody.

  Now a court officer summoned Joel into the courtroom. Holding open the gate that separated the gallery from the bench, the officer waited for Joel to pass through. Help me, Lord. Let justice be done this time. Please, Father.

  The court clerk held a Bible in front of him. At the clerk’s instructions, Joel placed his left hand on the smooth black cover and raised his right hand.

  “Do you solemnly swear that the evidence you shall give the court and the jury in the people of the State of New York versus Stanley Difinni at the bar, to be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  The last four years of his life had been nothing but lies, but it had all been for this moment of truth. He made his voice strong when he answered, “I do.”

  “Please state your full name for the court.”

  “Joseph William Bradford.”

  Joel took his seat on the witness stand.

  For the next two hours as the events were chronicled in vivid detail, Joel was forced to relive the murder he and Victoria had witnessed, to relive the night Tori died.

  The prosecutor thrust a grisly photograph in front of him—the man’s corpse, still sitting upright at the table in the restaurant that night. “Mr. Bradford, do you recognize this photograph?”

  “Yes sir.” Joel cleared his throat, struggling to keep his voice steady. “It was taken the night … the night of the murder at Ciao!”

  “And you were there, were you not? You witnessed this murder.”

  “Yes.”

  The prosecutor slid another photograph from a manila envelope. “And this one? Do you recognize this?”

  Joel’s breath caught as he was confronted by an image of the house where Tori had lived—a photo taken
after the house had been gutted by the flames that took her life. The prosecution had not wanted Joel to see these photographs beforehand. They wanted his reactions on the witness stand to be honest and emotional and gripping. Now he had no problem giving them what they wanted. Blood rushed to his head, and his throat filled, threatening to choke him.

  “Mr. Bradford? Do you recognize the house in this photograph?”

  “Y-yes. Yes, I do. Tori—Victoria Payne—lived in an apartment above the house.”

  “And what was your relationship to Ms. Payne?”

  “She was my—” He swallowed hard and started again. “She was my girlfriend. I took her to Ciao! to … to ask her to marry me.”

  “And she died in the fire that destroyed this house before you had a chance to propose to her?”

  “Yes. She did.” Joel hung his head and blinked away sudden tears.

  While the prosecutor expounded on the events of that fateful night, Joel found himself swamped in regrets over Tori’s death all over again. If only he had insisted that she come home with him that night or that she stay at a friend’s house. If only he’d watched to see if they were being followed when they left the restaurant. If only the police had told them what kind of criminals they were dealing with. If only … if only … if only …

  The testimony dragged on, and with each piece of evidence the prosecution presented, another agonizing memory was dredged up—the most horrific days of Joel’s life reconstructed before his eyes. Justice had been frustrated once by a jury unable to reach a verdict. He prayed with everything in him that this jury would open their eyes to the truth.

  Finally, at three o’clock, with his testimony finished and court adjourned for the day, Toliver drove Joel back to his apartment, taking a circuitous route through the city as a precaution.

  “You did well today,” Toliver told him as the car idled in the street in front of Joel’s place. “He won’t get off this time.”

  Joel nodded and got out of the car.

  He let himself into his apartment and locked the door behind him. After he hung up his coat, he went to the entryway where his briefcase sat. Pulling a stack of term papers from the case, he took them to the shabby desk in the kitchen.

  He’d done everything that was in his power to do. If justice was thwarted again, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to know about it.

  Methodically, he started reading his students’ essays, desperate to put the grueling day out of his mind. But one image fixed itself in his brain and wouldn’t let him go: Melanie and Jerica, forever lost to him now … lost to someone else.

  The trauma and distress of the day gathered steam and rolled over him like a freight train.

  And finally he broke down and wept.

  Melanie cradled the cordless phone on her shoulder and watered the plants on the sun porch as she talked. “Are you sure, Karly? I’d love to come help with the baby, but I don’t want your mom to feel like I’m butting in.” Karly and Matt’s baby was due late in March. Jerry LaSalle had already offered to fill in for Melanie at the office.

  “Actually, you’d be an answer to her prayers,” Karly replied. “With my sister in Iowa due the same week I am, Mom is going crazy trying to decide which direction she should go. This is Kelly’s first baby, and I told Mom she really ought to be with her. But Mom’s worried about who will take care of the boys. If she knows you’ll be here with Brock and Jace, she can go to Des Moines with a clear conscience. Besides, I’d love to have you here.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t mind if Jerica comes with me?”

  “Are you kidding? The boys will be ecstatic. It’ll make the time go so much faster for them if Jerica’s here.”

  Karly’s enthusiasm now was all the convincing Melanie needed. “I’ll call about tickets tomorrow,” she told her friend.

  Melanie set the watering can down and pinched a yellowed leaf from a philodendron, rolling it absently between her finger and thumb. She cleared her throat. “Karly … I don’t mean to nag, but … do you know if Matt has heard anything? About Joel? I know he promised to call me the minute he had any news, but … I just thought I’d ask.”

  Karly hesitated on her end. “I’m sure he would have said something if he had news, Mel. But I’ll tell him you asked … I know you’re anxious.”

  “Thanks. Well, I’d better let you go. I’ll call you as soon as I have our flights booked.”

  She took the phone into the kitchen and replaced it in its base, then went to wash the pungent scent of the leaf from her fingers. The last weeks of her life had been lived in a state of limbo. While she waited to hear what Matt’s investigation might turn up, she was merely going through the motions—putting in her hours at By Design, giving Jerica as much attention as time allowed, and trying not to drive her brother crazy with her frequent phone calls.

  Melanie thought Matthew had seemed nervous and detached the last time she’d spoken with him. She understood. He was afraid of what his search might turn up. And to be honest, she was fearful too.

  Trying for the thousandth time to put the whole situation out of her mind, she went to her computer to search for airline tickets for the last week in March. She would have to work overtime to get things in order at the office before she left. And even though Jerica’s school had a spring break during that time, she would still miss a few days of school. But how much homework could there be in first grade?

  As she finalized the details of the trip, her excitement grew. It would be good to get away and spend some time with her brother and his family. But there was something more—a vague feeling of anticipation that she couldn’t quite explain.

  Joel wiped the blackboard clean, dusted the chalk from his hands, and turned to face his class. “Why do you suppose that four hundred years after it was first performed, Romeo and Juliet remains so popular—especially with young people?”

  “Because teachers like you are always forcing us to read it?” Gina Salvatore deadpanned from a slouch behind her desk.

  “I’ll give you that,” Joel said, tossing the plump girl a grin that said Touché. “But think about it. This story has been produced as a new movie every generation in the history of film. How do you explain that?”

  Five hands shot up. Joel called on Danny Barrientos, pleased that the boy was prepared for once. “Twenty words or less, Danny.”

  Good-natured laughter rippled through the room. Danny Barrientos was not known for brevity. “Probably because it’s about kids our age.”

  Joel nodded. “I’d buy that. Any other ideas?”

  “Because it’s got the same issues we deal with?”

  “Like?”

  “Love, suicide, intolerance,” Danny offered.

  Again Joel nodded his affirmation. Several other students offered their opinions.

  “Okay, good. Great thoughts. Now who can give me a quick synopsis of the play?”

  Danny stood, bowed ostentatiously, and gave a creditable review of the plot.

  “Good,” Joel said, then winking, “Straight out of Cliffs Notes but good nevertheless. Okay. You can take a seat, Danny. Let’s give someone else a chance. Somebody name the major protagonists in the story.”

  “Duh. Romeo and Juliet,” Gina muttered from the back of the room.

  “Well, I see somebody did their homework,” he said dryly. “Okay, major antagonists?”

  Again several eager hands went up.

  The conversation grew lively when he asked them to think of modern comparisons to Shakespeare’s theme. As ideas flew back and forth across the room, Joel came around and leaned on the front of his desk, arms folded. He listened, letting the students carry the discussion, stepping in occasionally to steer them toward the next level of analysis.

  After a long semester struggling with Shakespeare, it seemed these kids were finally getting the hang of it. “You guys are something else,” he said now, slapping his copy of Romeo and Juliet on his thigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were actually enjo
ying this unit.”

  A few sheepish smiles hid behind notebooks. A few more broke into full grins.

  He looked at the clock. “Well, let’s stop there for today. Tomorrow we’ll discuss Act Two. If you haven’t read it, get—”

  The old building’s clangorous bell cut him off abruptly, and the classroom emptied like salt from a funnel into the noisy hallway.

  Smiling to himself, he tidied up the room. That finished, he chalked some sentences on the board for tomorrow’s first-hour English class, then headed down the hall to the teacher’s lounge to get his coat.

  “Hey, Joel! How’s it going?” Elaine Waring was at the sink rinsing coffee grounds from an ancient coffee maker. Her blond hair fell softly over her shoulders.

  “Fine, Elaine. Hey, how was your vacation?”

  “It was fantastic. Seventy degrees the whole week I was there.”

  “Well, I hate to tell you, but it wasn’t far from that here.” He grinned.

  “So I’ve heard,” she said, hands on hips in mock indignation. “Why does everybody insist on telling me that?”

  “Ah, we’re just jealous. Don’t pay any attention.”

  She gave him a grateful smile, put the clean carafe back on the burner, and grabbed her coat in a none-too-discreet effort to walk out with Joel.

  Elaine had been flirting with him for weeks. He knew she would go out with him in a second. All he’d have to do was ask. And he had to admit that he was attracted to her outgoing personality. She was cheerful and thoughtful, and extremely pretty besides. And he was so lonely.

  But there was only one woman he was lonely for. Only one woman for whom his heart ached. Oh, Melanie.

  He reminded himself again how unfair it would be to put someone else through the torture he had put Melanie through. Trying not to be rude, but not wanting to encourage the young teacher in any way, Joel headed the opposite direction when they reached the end of the sidewalk. “I need to run by the grocery before I head home,” he explained. “See you tomorrow, Elaine.” He waved over his shoulder.