by C. Ruth Daly
She felt drained. The weight of the summer and its tragedies had caught up with her. “I don’t know, Evan. Frankly, I don’t care. At this point, I don’t care. I’m sorry Dan Green was murdered. I’m sorry Thelma was murdered. I’m sorry the county assessor was murdered. I’m sorry Lori Bell was in a near-death accident—I’m so glad she’s going to make it, Evan.” Donna sniffled through her tears. “I’m so glad. I’m happy for you and Glynda, Evan. I’m happy you’ve found a place. I hope Trevor and Lori can make it. This has been a hell of a summer, don’t you agree?” She smiled through her tears. Her face was wan and her frizzy hair hung down with straggles of strands sticking up here and there.
“Yeah, Donna. It sure has been.”
“I wonder if I’ll ever see that professor again, Evan. So many people slip through our lives. Think about all of the people we’ve met. What about the friends you made at The Trading Post? I know you’ve had your losses, Evan. You’ve had a rough go of it.” Donna continued as they approached the Burgenton line. “I shouldn’t be so down right now. Life is certainly not always fair, is it?”
“No it ain’t Donna, but I’m grateful fer’ friends like you and I’m grateful fer’ the life I’m gonna’ have.”
They drove past the law office of one Simon Jefferies. “That’s the attorney Irish said we should take the box to. Let’s do it first thing in the morning, Evan. Make sure to tell Glynda.”
“Don’t worry, Donna, I will.”
She dropped him off at the house then rounded the corner and down the alley, turned right toward her mother’s place and pulled up behind the garage. Even though Freddy Carson was not going to find her, she felt better with her truck hidden from the street. Into the back door and through the pantry where her mother’s canning jars were piled on her grandmother’s old wooden table and inside she found the house empty. Her mother was at church. Of course. How could I forget? It’s Sunday.
“Maybe I should join her,” Donna muttered to herself, but caught sight of the tweed couch in the living room. It was inviting and she found herself curled up on it. The invitation to sleep was too much and as Donna nodded off, the release of anguish felt by all the murders and sorrows this summer fell from her eyes in the form of heavy tears. She grabbed a tissue from the box that her mother always kept on a TV tray and fell into a deep sleep. And she remained there in the depths of a therapeutic slumber when Carol returned from Mass and covered her with the knitted afghan blanket that was draped over the rocking chair.
Donna slept until dinner when her mother’s voice beckoned her to awaken, “It’s time for dinner, Donna. Wake up. We’re having some ham and beans.”
Jolted into consciousness, she awakened and wiped her mouth and eyes with the backs of her hand. The sleep deadened some of the sadness that filled her soul, but it still remained.
The kitchen table was set for two and Donna found herself sitting in the same spot she had sat years ago when the house was filled with family. Now it was Carol, she realized, who sat in the lone spot meal after meal, and day after day, and Donna was glad to be able to share a meal with her mom. After all, since she had returned, meals at her family’s home had been few and far between, but Carol McNally never complained.
Even though ham and beans were hardly a favorite, they tasted best with the conversation. It was nearly impossible not to talk about the murders that had swept the county. Donna’s mother still did not know how her daughter had proximity to the murders, so she feigned no knowledge of them and conversed with cautious interest. The topic of where Donna would be and what she would be doing in the next few months was tenuously discussed, and after the table was cleared and the dishes were done, Donna and her mother moved to the living room and watched the evening news. The events in Camden County covered the air waves and consumed a good portion of the time. Donna did learn Freddy Carson was killed from the wounds incurred in the shootout, later dying in the hospital. The relationship to Thelma was disclosed, which shocked her mother and she knew there would be a call to Irish in the morning to discuss the sordid life of Thelma Carson. Dan Stanley Green was from an upper middle class family in Georgia. He wasn’t any of the things he had told Donna, Glynda, or Evan. He was just a roustabout separated from his parents, who had not heard from him in ten years or more. The name Morrelli River Resorts was mentioned more than twice, and Donna envisioned Trevor cringing behind his desk as he watched the same channel.
The precious cardboard box rested in the closet in the blue bedroom upstairs and Donna was anxious to place it in the hands of the attorney tomorrow morning. Ready to be done with it all. She excused herself at nine o’clock and said it had been an incredibly long day with all of the excitement. Wishing her mother a good night’s sleep, Donna climbed the steps to the bedroom and tucked herself beneath the blue bedspread and its covers. She quickly fell into a sound sleep.
It was around one-thirty when the night became enormous with the sounds of sirens coming from all directions. The wailing of firetrucks, police cars, and the single county ambulance blazed through homes, awakening everyone on Livingston Street and beyond. Donna ran to the window to see if there was anything to see, but the noise came from the highway one block behind the house. She threw on her jeans and ran down the stairs.
Carol stood in the kitchen, her fist tightly clutched the bathrobe against her neck, the transistor radio against her ear.
“I can’t hear anything, Donna, good Lord!” The radio in her hand shook as she spoke, “Maybe run down the alley and see.”
Out the backdoor and over the limestone gravel of the alley way and Donna was soon on the north-south highway, the major thoroughfare through Burgenton. The parade of emergency vehicles had passed and she knew it was something catastrophic for the firetruck from the neighboring town was called for assistance.
Thoughts of Trevor’s resort came to the forefront—angry Debbie, a phone conversation with Tonya. Trevor’s vacancies, the murders on the river. No, she told herself. No, Trevor wouldn’t set the place on fire. Or would he?
She turned and ran, turning north toward Glynda’s place and pounded on the backdoor. They were already awake—just like the rest of the town.
“Donna, can you believe all the sirens? What’s happenin’?” Glynda was first to the door.
“I don’t know, but they are all headed out of town—south. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but do you think it could be Trevor’s place?”
“I can’t imagine, Donna. That’s right on the river and there isn’t no lightening so how’d it catch fire is beyond me. Maybe it’s a big car accident on the road to Hamilton City.”
Evan was now behind Glynda, “I’m with Donna. Trevor is sure actin’ kinda’ crazy these days with all’s that’s goin’ on. He might do somethin’ rash.”
On her bare feet, Donna was anxious, “I’m going to drive out that way. I’ll let you know what I see, okay. I just need to reassure my mom and get my shoes and keys. Either of you want to come with me, please?”
Glynda turned and looked up at Evan, “Okay. I’ll go with ya’, he sighed and turned to get his shoes behind the kitchen door. “Git yer’ stuff Donna, and come back and pick me up.”
She quickly returned, driving up the alley and Evan climbed into the cab. They drove in silence out toward the river.
“Donna, what if we git’ out there and it was a big accident on the way to Hamilton City? Then what? Let’s hope it’s not a wild goose chase.”
The road split at the Y by Lori’s house and they turned toward the river. The smell of wood burning filled the air and they knew their fears were correct.
“Shit, Donna, you’s right.”
She peered over the steering wheel as they traveled over the bridge and up the winding road toward the resorts. When the truck veered onto the freshly tarred road leading to the wrought iron gates, they ran into police cars, ambulances, and at least five firetrucks from different municipalities that were positioned before a raging wall of fire that e
nveloped the resort and the flames licked at the trees while firefighters battled to save the surrounding woods.
They stood behind the open doors of the truck, mouths open and Donna’s eyes welled with tears. This was too much. What has happened? She asked herself, then yelled across to Evan, “Evan—do you think Trevor is okay. All the guests had checked out, right?”
He nodded at her and the two stayed in that position until a blue uniformed officer with a badge told them to go away, “No spectators. It’s not safe. Please vacate now!”
They heeded his warning and backed up the truck, and turned around to go back down the hill toward Burgenton.
“I guess we’ll just find out about it tomorrow, Evan. I’m calling Lori’s place first thing in the morning. I hope Trevor wasn’t at the resort when it caught fire.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The damage was too severe and there was no chance to recover from it. He had his suspicions and Trevor was correct, quickly reporting it to the sheriffs when he saw the flames begin as a circle and then envelope the resort as if it were a malicious dragon thrashing its head. First it captured the cabin on the far end by the woods, and with the drying grass, flames took every opportunity to find its next victims. He was quick to call for help and then sound the alarm to alert the few staff members on the sight to quickly vacate. Trevor knew Debbie was packing her things on the farthest end of the fire and Glenn was finishing a toilet install in the cabin nearest to the office. What he did was risky, but Trevor felt obligated to save his staff. He ran to Debbie’s cabin and pounded on the door. No one answered. The flames were on the other side of the resort and despite the numerous waterfalls, they were rapidly spreading from cabin to cabin. Trevor turned the handle and found it to be unlocked, then dashed inside to discover the place had already been vacated. The only item Debbie had left was a gas can carelessly tossed onto the floor of the living area. Thinking fast, he pulled his handkerchief from his hip pocket and picked it up, quickly fleeing with the evidence. The Burgenton volunteer fire department was first on the scene followed by two county sheriffs, who secured the evidence from the resort’s owner. Glenn was already in his truck and at the far end of the road. Everyone had been accounted for, and Trevor knew it was Tonya’s cousin who was the arsonist.
A state patrol officer pulled the grey hatchback over on Interstate 65 heading north towards Chicago. The driver smelled of gasoline and the officer followed procedure. The backup arrived and Debbie was taken into custody. For a slight woman, her spirit was feisty and the law wrestled with her flailing arms and cuffed her, lowering Debbie’s head into the patrol car. The young woman placed a phone call to her cousin Tonya, but the cleaning woman answered and with a thick Eastern European accent said that Mr. and Mrs. Lamar were on vacation out of the country. The response brought the former recreation director to tears, and the words spewed forth from her mouth. After being Tonya’s soldier she was now ready to throw her older commander under the bus. She confessed it all to the sheriffs.
“She said we had to do it. Take the gas can from the maintenance shed and when the guests were gone and no one was on the property, spread the gas around and light the place on fire. I did. I did what Tonya said. I emptied as much gas as I could on the river side of the resort and set the match. I busted out of there and to my cabin—I remember I forgot my ring—my favorite sapphire ring on the bathroom sink. I—I wasn’t thinking and threw the can down and got out of there as quick as I could. My car was down the road a little. No one was supposed to be there. Trevor said he was going to get supper and Glenn had just told me he was taking off for the night. I—I didn’t know Trevor had stayed.” Debbie wept into her hands and between sobs, “She told me to do it. It was too much of a loss and that—that loser Trevor could never get the cash to pay her back.” Debbie stared at the officers, “He fired me. He fired me. What else was I supposed to do?” Her words came forth with unbridled innocence.
When Trevor heard the news that she had confessed, a wave of relief came over him as well as disappointment. He had thought he could make a go of it, but too much had happened. Rob was murdered almost on the property, that guy from Georgia, too. News spread about the guest with a flesh wound from some unknown assailant near Morrelli Resorts. But why Debbie? Why would she do this, he wondered. He had reason to let her go and the job—the job wasn’t that important. She could get another. Thoughts ruminated in his mind, and what Trevor remembered was the phone conversation with Tonya—her anger, insults, and threats. Her threats. That’s when he called the county sheriff and told him about the conversation.
The phone rang at the Jameson residence and Trevor answered, “Hello?”
“Trevor, it’s Linda. They’re taking Lori Bell off of the ventilator tomorrow. Isn’t that good news?” Lori’s mother’s tears of joy came through the phone’s receiver and Trevor accepted them.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Linda. Bad news here. The resort—it’s gone. Totaled by a fire.” Trevor smiled through his tears, knowing he could never rebuild and that was just fine. Lori would be okay, and he could bring her back to a Hamilton City hospital soon.
He knew there was a huge insurance policy on the resort—it was required. He could return the cash to the investors and there would still be enough to rebuild—not a resort, but maybe a restaurant. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he would be able to recover from the summer’s events. And he’d have his Lori Bell back. He’d have to cancel everything for the wedding—and soon. So much to do, he considered.
Trevor knew he had to tell the news to someone. Quickly dialing Glynda’s number, the phone rang multiple times before Rodney picked it up. Only to be told Glynda was at an attorney’s office. Trevor wondered what that was about. He dialed the McNally residence.
“Hello,” Carol’s voice crackled across the wires.
“Hello Mrs. McNally, this is Trevor Morrelli. I’m a friend of Donna’s—Lori Bell’s a friend, too. She’s my fiancée.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve known Lori Bell for years. How’s she feeling?”
“She’s going to be okay. She was in a very serious accident. Did you know? Is Donna available?”
“Why no, Trevor. She’s not. She’s with an attorney. I can have her call you.”
“That would be fine, thanks.” He hung up the phone and questioned why both Glynda and Donna were with an attorney.
At the office of Simon Jefferies, Glynda delicately explained how and why they obtained the box from the home of Thelma Carson. She went into detail of the events that occurred over fourteen years ago and how she and Thelma had developed a bond—a unique friendship.”
The attorney secured the will and examined the remaining contents, “I will turn this over to the police. It’s of importance. There has been a murder—more than one.” He peered over his glasses at the women as if they were unaware of the massacres that had happened during this fatal summer.
Donna and Glynda both thanked Jefferies. With a sigh of relief, they stepped outside through the glass door framed in mahogany and stood on the tiled entry of the office, peeking out into the late summer sunshine at the passing motorists and beyond, to see the courthouse. Neither of them spoke but both women recalled the summer of Ned Hollis. And this was one more to remember. They turned and headed east toward their homes, then turned left and crossed the main street, passing the Opera House, now restored to its glory, but will it ever recover from its death scene? The last player on its stage—Thelma. The history the woman had in that opera house was a tragedy.
“Remember when we found those initials of Thelma’s and the coach on the backstage wall of the Opera House? I’m sorry, Glynda.” Donna put her arm around her friend’s shoulder and at the corner before turning right on Livingston Street said, “There’s something I need to do. I’ll catch up to you later.”
Donna continued down the street and to the bank where she went inside and to the first available teller, obtained a safe deposit box. She already had one w
ith the gold tucked away safely inside. The key always on her, snug around her neck where she could feel it. Inside the vault she opened her new box and removed the key from her neck, dropping it inside. She left, then returned to the office of Simon Jefferies.
“Hello Mr. Jefferies.”
His face was down staring at papers on his desk and his eye glasses rested on top of his balding pate creating a humorous image. Donna chuckled slightly.
“I’m back for what we talked about on the phone.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Despite the hot and unusually dry weather of late, it was a downpour on the day of Thelma’s funeral. The Presbyterian Church was moderately full with friends and community members there to pay their final respects to the woman. Five of them, Glynda, Evan, Rodney, Donna, and Trevor sat together in the second pew at the front. The remaining second cousins of Thelma Carson sat in front of them during the brief service.
Donna turned to Trevor when the minister began speaking and smiled slightly, patting his arm, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire you will not be scorched…”
The biblical passage from Isaiah seemed appropriate for the summer. Trevor returned the gesture and then directed his attention to the minister. In a couple weeks, he and Lori were to be married here—now? Who knows when? He returned from Illinois for the funeral. It had been two weeks since the arson and after dealing with the loss of his business—his baby, he made the trip to the hospital across the state line to see his real baby. Just earlier in the week Lori was moved out of the ICU and into a regular room. She was sitting up with the aid of the bed when he walked into her room. He went to her side, pulled up a chair and sat down, and grasped her hand so delicately. Tears rolled down Lori’s cheeks and then Trevor’s eyes welled with the weight of the summer’s woes.
