by Patricia Fry
Savannah put her hand on Arthur’s arm. “Do you think he had something to do with Karen’s death?”
“I wish I knew,” Arthur said. “I wonder if one more session with Ms. Rochelle might help me to see if I have forgotten or hidden a memory from that horrible weekend.”
“It’s worth a try,” Craig said. “Another possibility in all this is that your mother will throw her husband under the bus. She’s not doing well in the prison environment, from what I hear. If we can convince her she’ll get a lighter sentence if she wasn’t actually the mastermind, she just might spill her guts.” He looked at Arthur and said, “Oh, sorry for being so crude.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve already talked to Bob Walker about that and he’s going to get her a psych evaluation—maybe talk to some of her cellmates. He’ll bring in his best negotiator and see if your mother has anything at all to say.” He looked at Arthur and squinted.
“What?” Arthur asked. “I sense that you have something up your sleeve.”
“Seeing you might help her to remember details of the day Karen died. What do you say we fly you up to Frisco for a meeting with your mother and maybe your stepgrandmother?”
Arthur grimaced. “That’s distasteful,” he said. He looked Craig in the eyes. “…but for Karen…yes, I would do it for Karen and to get this nasty thing behind us for good.”
****
The following afternoon, Craig and Arthur arrived at the main San Francisco jail. Chief Bob Walker promptly ushered them into a sparse room, where they sat at a table and waited. After several minutes, a guard stepped inside with Pearl Peyton-Smith. When she saw Arthur, she took in a deep breath. She glanced at the guard and then at Arthur as if she were trying to make up her mind what to do. She finally sat down across from the boy. Craig and Chief Walker sat on either side of Arthur.
Pearl stared down at her hands, which were cuffed in front of her. Finally Arthur said, “You can’t even look at me?”
Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes and spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, Arthur. It must have been awful being isolated like that for all those years. Your mother did you a grave disservice by not getting help for you.”
“What happened the day Karen died?” he asked abruptly.
“You don’t remember? You were ten years old.”
“Sure, I remember a lot of it, but something’s missing. Someone else was there. I know it. I sense a presence, but I can’t see who it is. My mind won’t let me remember.”
Pearl spoke softly. “It’s best that way, Arthur. You’re okay—you’ve got it made now. Live your life and forget the past. It’s over—at least for you.”
He shook his head slowly and narrowed his eyes. “No, no it’s not over. Not until I know the whole truth.”
Pearl looked at the guard and asked, her voice gravelly, “Could I have a drink of water?” She explained to Arthur, “My voice hasn’t been the same since the fire. I went inside, you know, looking for you. I guess you came out while I was in there—then you went back in.” She looked at Arthur with pleading eyes. “Why, Arthur? Why did you do that? Why did you go back inside?”
“I was looking for you,” he said, choking up. “I couldn’t find you. I thought you were inside and I went back in looking for you.” He covered his face with his hands and sobbed. He then took a breath and said, “But he was there.”
Pearl accepted a paper cup half-full of water. Holding it with both cuffed hands, she took a sip. She set the cup on the table in front of her, her hands still clasping it.”
Arthur stared at the cup as she twisted it around and around in her hands. Suddenly, he leaned back in his chair and shouted, “You were drunk!”
She looked at him, her eyes wide.
Arthur stood up and continued to stare down at the cup. “They brought you liquor.” He spoke slowly, “They kept giving you liquor and you kept drinking it. When you decided to go back to the cabin, you told Karen to sit there and then you left her—you left us!” he shouted. He walked from one side of the room to the other. Stopping again in front of Pearl, he said quietly and slowly, “But they were still there.” His words were deliberate. “You went back to the cabin to get a sweater for Karen. She wanted to wait for the sun to ‘fall’ so she could take a picture with her little camera. It was getting cold and you went back to get a sweater, but you didn’t leave us alone, did you?” he said, leaning down and looking into her eyes. “We weren’t alone.” He spun around. “Oh God,” he said. “All these years, I thought you left us alone. That’s what I remembered.” He spoke as if to himself, “Now I know what was missing in my nightmares. “Karen and I were not alone that day.”
Pearl slowly shook her head from side to side, staring down at the cup.
“It was my mother!” Arthur said in obvious anguish. “I remember now. She led Karen closer to the water, closer and closer, until she fell and slid on the wet grass into the water. That’s the part I couldn’t remember—my mind wouldn’t let me remember. It was Mother who killed Karen. Oh my God, it was Mother, all along.” He dropped into his chair and sobbed into his hands.
Craig put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, fighting back tears of his own. “You tried to save your sister, didn’t you?” he said.
“Yes, I fell in trying to reach out to her. The tide was high. Surges of ocean water rushed into the inlet. The water was raging. I laid on the bank and reached for her, calling for her to grab my hand. But she was too far away. Then I remembered I had my fishing pole. I ran to get it and held it out for her to grasp. I leaned so far out that I fell in.” Tears streamed down Arthur’s scarred face. “I struggled in the churning water and finally reached Karen, but her body was limp and I couldn’t pull her to safety. I could barely swim myself in the strong surges.” He was crying harder now. “I tried and tried to swim to the side with her, but a wave hit us hard and I lost my grip.” He sat quietly for a moment. “I never saw her again.”
“And your mother; did she pull you out?” Craig asked quietly.
The boy looked up. “No. I called to her, but no one was there. She was gone. I thought I would drown. At that point, I had given up. Then I brushed against something—an exposed tree root. I grabbed it and pulled myself to the bank, where I was able to use the trunk of a small tree to climb to safety.”
“And your mother was gone?” Craig asked.
“Yes, both of them were gone.” Suddenly, he looked up at Pearl. “He was there, too,” he said. “Your son, Charles Peyton, was with her. They were together. They did it together.” He stared across at the woman and begged to know, “Why?”
Pearl took in a ragged breath. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue the guard had produced. Once she’d gained control, she said, “For the money, of course. It was all because of the money. They knew I liked my liquor and they got me drunk.”
“And the next day…” Arthur started. “The next day…or was it two days later…they came for me. It wasn’t the candle that caught the curtain on fire, was it?” Arthur gritted his teeth and stared across at his stepgrandmother. “It was him! He started the fire, didn’t he? Your son, Charles Peyton started the fire hoping to kill me, too.”
“No!” Pearl shouted. “It was an accident. Charles and your mother just happened to come back that night and found the cabin on fire. That’s what they told me. I was passed out when the fire started. Charles got me out and then he went in after you.” She blinked away tears and tried to look up at Arthur. “I never saw you again, until those hunters came. Charles and your mother had driven off by then.” She took a ragged breath. “But they came back. I presumed that authorities stopped them on the road and brought them back to be with you. Your mother rode with you to the hospital. They took you to a burn center, where she said you died. As far as any of us knew, you had died.”
Pearl wept into the tissue. When she had once again regained her composure, she said, “Later, they came to me with money. They tried to buy me a nice home, make it pos
sible for me to travel. At first, I didn’t know why.” She looked Arthur in the eyes. “May God help me, Arthur, I believed they were accidents. I was, as you said, drunk—or pretty close to it.” She laughed almost hysterically. “I thought we were having a nice family outing that day. When I began to figure out what really happened…” She looked at Arthur. “…like you, I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t allow myself to believe it. It was too painful. It was hard enough knowing…believing…that you children were gone.”
Arthur wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and Pearl continued, “Arthur, my life was over when Karen died and I thought you were dead. I gave up everything I ever enjoyed—my friends, my nursing. To be blamed was horrible…horrible. I lost my will to live and fell deeper into the bottle.” She looked at Arthur. “The only thing that saved me from following Karen to an early grave were your cats. They turned them loose, you know—or at least most of them. Some of them came to me. Others, I found in the swamp and brought home.” She burst into tears. “The cats were all I had left of you children.”
Arthur stared at Pearl. “You didn’t know? All these years, I blamed you. I hated you. I thought you hated us—you didn’t treat us…”
“I know, Arthur. I could be stern. I had rules for you children. I was trying to teach you how to behave.” She reached out her hands. “I loved you children. My heart and my spirit were broken after…I couldn’t think about you—it was too painful. Oh Arthur, I am so glad to know that you…survived. If only I’d known all these years. If only…”
Arthur inhaled deeply. “Thank you,” he said. “This is certainly not what I wanted to hear, but I’m glad to finally know the truth…the ugly, ugly truth about my…family,” he said in a derogatory manner.
“Mrs. Smith, have you told any of this to the authorities?” Craig asked.
She shook her head. “No. But now that I see you, Arthur, and know you’re safe, I don’t care what happens to me or to them—especially to them…”
Arthur reached out and took Pearl’s hand. “I believe you. My memory is clearer now and I do remember how you cared for me and Karen. After what happened, I guess that part of my memory shut down and new memories were manufactured. I thought of you as the bad guy for all of those years. But I do remember now how kind you were to us. I didn’t like your drinking habit, but we did enjoy our visits to your cabin.” Arthur turned to Craig. “If I testify, will they let her off?”
“I imagine your testimony will go a long way toward saving her, if a jury believes you.”
“Why would I lie?” he asked.
“Son, so many people have been lying in this case, and the facts are so convoluted, it will be a real challenge for a jury or judge to sort it all out. We can only hope for a confession. That’s what we need—a confession.”
“Do you have an attorney?” Arthur asked Pearl.
She nodded. “One appointed by the court.”
“I’ll pay for you to get a good attorney, Grandmother.”
Pearl began to cry. “Grandmother, I thought I’d never hear that term again. Oh Arthur, it is wonderful—music to my ears.”
Everyone sat with their own thoughts for a moment before Arthur said, “For a couple who would go to such lengths to do something so wicked together, they don’t seem to have much love for each other.”
Pearl took another deep breath. “My son and your mother know little about love. In fact, I think their relationship was based on something rather sinister…blackmail, perhaps?”
“Blackmail?” Craig repeated.
She shook her head slowly, grimacing. “I think they had something on each other. They were completely blinded by their love for their extravagant lifestyle and you children were, in the short term, a nuisance and, in the long term, a huge obstacle to their fortune.”
“You say blackmail?” Craig asked.
“Yes, I’m pretty sure they had something to do with your father’s car accident, Arthur. I don’t know if you knew it or not, but you and Karen were supposed to be with him the day he went over that bluff.”
Chapter 8
Saturday morning, Arthur joined the Iveys and Ruth in the kitchen.
“Artie,” Ruth said, “how did things go in the city? Are you okay?”
“Hi Ruthie,” he said returning her hug. “I am better than okay, thanks to Detective Craig.”
“Come sit,” Savannah said, and tell us all about it.” She then offered, “Hot chocolate?”
The boy thinned his lips, saying, “No. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a cup of coffee, with cream and sugar.”
“Coffee?” Ruth asked, surprised.
“It’s about time I changed some of my habits—might as well start now,” he said, smiling.
“Coffee it is,” Savannah said, pouring a cup and placing it on the table in front of him.
Arthur added cream and a little sugar to the brew, stirred it, and took a sip. “I think I could get used to this stuff,” he said. “Craig and I drank lots of it on the red-eye flight home last night.”
“To keep you from falling asleep?” Michael asked.
“Oh no, I was wide awake.” He rattled a toy in front of Lily and smiled at her when she took it from him. He then said, “After what happened yesterday, there was no way I could fall asleep. I was so wired.”
“What happened?” Savannah asked, placing a platter of sausage links and scrambled eggs on the table next to a bowl of fresh fruit and a basket of biscuits.
“Looks great,” Arthur said. “Boy, am I hungry.”
Once Arthur had eaten most of his breakfast and drunk half of his coffee, he poured himself more coffee, cupped his hands around the mug and began sharing the events of the day before. “Well, to make a long day shorter, the missing piece to my nightmare puzzle is now in place. As it turned out, I didn’t talk to my mother while we were in Frisco.”
“No?” Savannah said, surprised. “Why?”
He took a bite of biscuit with plum jam and swallowed. “Didn’t have to,” he said, smiling. “My grandmother told me what I needed to know.”
“Your grandmother, Artie?” Ruth said. “You mean Pearl Peyton-Smith?”
“Yes, she had some pieces to the puzzle that I didn’t have. When she started telling me things about that weekend, I started to remember.” He was sullen for a moment, then made quick eye-contact with everyone. “It was my stepfather and my mother. Mother killed Karen.” He shook his head. “Even knowing it and saying it, it is so hard to believe.”
“Oh Artie,” Ruth said, moving behind his chair and placing her hands on his shoulders.
Savannah and Michael sat stunned.
“It’s okay,” Arthur said. “I have to finally face it.”
“I talked to my new accountant and my attorney and they’re going to set Grandmother up with a good lawyer—hopefully someone better than a court-appointed attorney. After my testimony, she should be free soon—or maybe not so soon. Courts can move slowly.” He sucked in a breath. “I will probably need to spend time on a psychiatrist’s couch and maybe pass a lie-detector test. I went for a long time without remembering the truth, and I guess they need to validate that what I now remember actually is the truth.”
Savannah said, “I can’t blame them for wanting to question you further. Your mother did her best to warp your mind for many years.”
“I understand that, now.” Arthur said. “Oh, Savannah…Michael…” he smiled down at the baby, “and Lily—sweet Lily…I want to thank you for your hospitality—both Ruthie and I do. But we must go home. There’s a lot I need to do and I think I’m ready to do it.” When he saw Savannah’s eyes well up with tears, he said, “We will be in touch.” He glanced around the room. “I have had such a good time here and you have helped me so much. I’ll never forget you.”
“Well, you’d better not, Arthur,” Savannah said, wiping at her eyes. “We want to stay in touch. You’re part of our extended family now—you, Ruth, and Koko
.”
Arthur smiled. “Thank you.” He turned to Ruth. “Can we go home today?”
“Sure, Artie,” she said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
****
It was a rainy September day a week later when Savannah’s cell phone rang. “Arthur, hi! How are you?”
“Great. Things are good here. How are you and little Lily and Michael?”
“Super—the baby’s pulling herself up and walking around things, now.”
“No kidding! She’ll be taking Rags for his walks before too long,” he said, laughing.
There was a pause and Savannah said, “You sound good, Arthur.”
“Yes, I have a date for my first surgery. They’re going to start with my face. I should look pretty much back to normal in six months or less,” he said. “The next phase will be the painful scars that get the most stress, like across my lower back and one leg. They say with practice and therapy I should be walking a lot straighter—no more stupid stooping for me. I want to look young when I see Suzette again.”
“Oh, that’s right—is she going to school here in California?”
“Yes, down in LA. I think I’ll be ready to see her this time next year. If she isn’t married by then, maybe I’ll bring her up so you can meet her.”
“Arthur, listen to me.”
“What?”
“If you want this girl—if you believe she’s the one for you—don’t hold back. She, of all people, understands your situation. Let her go through the skin repair process with you. Tell her how you feel before you have the surgery. Otherwise, Arthur, you may lose her. She may not be the right one for you, but spending time together will help both of you make the right decision for the right reasons.”
After several moments of silence, he said, “I’ll have to think about that. I’ve always dreamed of a perfect reunion. You know, I haven’t seen her in person since we were in the burn center together.”
“Oh Arthur, you don’t have to depend on your dreams anymore. You can live this dream now. Make it happen. Don’t put off what you know in your heart you want.” She let him absorb what she had said before asking him, “Speaking of dreams, do you still have those nightmares?”
