by Alice Ward
I had just come into the office and my first client wasn’t due in for another fifteen minutes. I made myself a coffee and relaxed at the desk, contemplating my final decision. I needed to make this with a clear head. There was too much at stake. It wasn’t just me, or even Auggie and me, there was a child and an entire generation who would pay if I made the wrong decision today.
Call it fate, but my cell rang and I answered.
“Worth, this is Bill Daughtery,” came the brusque voice.
“Bill. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again,” I commented dryly, although his investigative invoices had arrived on a timely basis.
“I think I’m about to earn the money you’ve been sending me, Worth. When can we meet?”
I considered the importance of what he might have to say and made a decision. “Meet me at one o’clock at Joe’s.”
“See you there,” he said and hung up.
I went out to Patsy and told her to cancel my afternoon appointments. I verified that Auggie wasn’t expected in. She’d been coming three times a week for massage therapy as the baby weight was beginning to hurt her lower back and give her leg cramps. Despite her athleticism, it was our first baby and it was taking a toll on her ability to rest comfortably.
I changed jackets before I left for Joe’s and met Bill there at the dot of one o’clock. We took a table and ordered beers and a sandwich.
We reminisced about college days while we ate, delaying the inevitable information I knew he was going to pass along to me. He was my ace in the hole and I hoped he was going to come through for me.
Our beers were refilled and Bill grew serious. “This is confidential stuff I have to tell you,” he began, looking around. “You don’t want it overheard.”
“Very well,” I said and paid the bill, nodding to the bartender. Bill and I took a walk down to Third Street riverfront park. The Belle of Louisville was still in dock, but its charm was lost on our conversation. We strolled along the railing and as Bill talked, I stared down into the churning dark waters of the Ohio. There was something redemptive about water, but that day it was Bill who brought that emotion with his words. The wind had picked up and dark autumn clouds were rolling in to deliver their first, early sleet of the season.
I shook his hand when we parted, my mind now churning as the dark waters beneath the Third Street Bridge.
***
“Worth!” my mother’s voice was excited as she found me in her doorway. “Come in, darling!” she invited, kissing me on the cheek and pulling me indoors where it was warmer but stormier than even the sleet I’d left behind.
“Is he here?” I asked in a sober voice. I was concerned about her welfare after I left today. Her life could go on uninterrupted, or it could be devastated. It would all depend on the man in the study.
“You know where to find him,” she said, her voice filled with natural concern. She knew I wasn’t there on a social call. She knew it meant trouble. Perhaps that’s why she headed upstairs as soon as she let go of my arm. It was self-preservation to stay out of the way of random artillery fire.
He knew I was there. He’d sensed the moment I pulled into the drive, like a wolf that can smell the scent of prey a mile away.
He pretended to not see me but unlike the cowering child who would have once stood in the doorway for hours waiting to be invited in, I simply walked in and fell into the wingback opposite his desk.
“We need to talk,” I stated.
He looked up. Perhaps it was the tone of my voice, perhaps he smelled the scent of danger in the air. “Do we, indeed?” he snarled, tossing his pen down and sitting back in his chair, his hands brought together in a prayer-like gesture of contemplation. It was not a prayer to God. Father didn’t believe in any church but the Temple of LaViere where his word was never doubted.
“It stops today,” I said in a solid, but quiet voice. He heard the dead calm behind my words and perhaps it caused him to perspire a bit. Cowardice can do that.
“It stops when I say it stops,” he snapped back and turned to pour himself another bourbon. Even at my distance, I could see that his hand was shaking.
“I know about Santa Anita,” I spoke the words quietly but slowly so there was no question about what I was saying.
He whirled around. “And just what do you think you know?” he asked sarcastically.
“I’m not that big of a fool. If I tell you, I happen to know you have a little button beside your left knee that activates a recording device. I’m not about to go on record.” I got up and walked around his desk, pouring myself two fingers of his best bourbon and downing it in a single gulp. I set the glass back, upside down, causing a ring of the liquid to form on the surface of his cherry desk. I knew it would enrage him; he was very proud of that desk. His hand shook as he ached to retrieve the glass, but it would be a sign of surrender. He couldn’t afford that. The stakes were too high.
“What do you want?” were his simple, but oft-repeated words. I was no longer innocent enough to believe they signaled resignation. They often were more a sign of retaliation. Not this time, though. This time, I was in control.
“Call off your dogs. Pay them off and neuter Jervis.”
“Or?”
I laughed callously. “You need to ask? You forget. I’ve learned from the best.”
“You won’t get away with it,” he said.
“You thought you could,” I pointed out, “and you were wrong.
His face tightened, his only sign of emotion. “Damn you for a hound from hell.”
“Father, and I use the word genetically, if there is a hell, it is one you created and you will languish in for a very long time. I trust we have an arrangement?”
“Get out!” he screamed, his face a mottled red and he threw his glass at me. I tipped my head and he missed.
I walked to the doorway and laughed as I looked over my shoulder. His head was on his crossed arms.
I walked to the base of the stairs. “Mother?” I called to her and she appeared at the top. “Get a bag. You’re coming with me for a few days. It’s time you knew your daughter-in-law,” I said. She didn’t argue, didn’t even question the reason why. If anything, there was relief written all over her face.
“I’ll be right there,” she said, nodding. She was. In fact, she was down the stairs in under five minutes. I stood guard in the foyer and when she came tripping down, I opened the front door and helped her into my car.
“What happened?” she asked as we pulled out onto the roadway.
“I believe you might call it the end of an era,” I said and she nodded. She didn’t need the details.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Worth
When I ushered Mother into the condo, Auggie’s face lit up. “Hello!” she called out and came forward.
Mother’s face lit equally when she saw Auggie’s shape. “Worth! I didn’t know!” she exclaimed and hugged us both. “When is it due?” she asked, reaching out to touch Auggie’s blossoming tummy.
“About Christmas,” Auggie answered. She looked to me for an explanation.
“Mother will be staying with us for a bit. I’d like her to get to know you and it won’t hurt for you to not be alone so much,” I said and Auggie nodded and smiled in total approval.
“Auggie, I never had the chance to welcome you to the family. Well, such as it is,” she said, looking to Worth for approval.
“It’s fine, Mother. We know you have no part in this,” I assured her.
“Good. Auggie, will you call me Margaret?” She hugged Auggie again, for good measure.
“May I get you something, Margaret?” Auggie confirmed the gesture.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a cup of tea, would you? I’m chilled to the bone and although it’s probably not due entirely to the cold, Halloween is tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Come in the kitchen and let’s talk while I brew it,” Auggie invited. “After all, it is the time of year for a good brew,” she j
oked.
My mother was enchanted with the condo. I could tell she liked it by the way she lingered in each room as we took her on tour, touching the carved trims and the marble baths. While her own home at the farm was quite comfortable, it was dated in the old money sort of way and I knew she missed having something new and open to her personal sense of design. The farm where she and Father lived had been in the family for generations. There was nothing new about it at all.
I was feeling rather satisfied with myself. Timing this morning had seemed so without options and now here I was, a solution on the table and the people I loved the most under my own roof. It was a contentment I’d never experienced and I thought about the children Auggie and I would be having and how our family would grow. My guiding motivation would be to never be anything like my father. He was the antithesis of a good parent, an abomination as a husband and a cunning and vile wolf when it came to being a human being in general.
We sat up and talked long into the night and I finally gave up, citing a need to get to the office early. Auggie climbed into the bed beside me. “I really like her,” she whispered, then turned, backed her bottom into me and fell promptly asleep. I lay there hard and wanting her for a very long time, the skin of her bottom caressing my throbbing penis. I didn’t have the heart to disturb her so I realized I would have to get accustomed to the yearning, for a few months at least.
I fell asleep peacefully.
***
The next morning, I rose early, patted Auggie on the bottom and left for the clinic. I had a first-thing patient but when we were finished, I checked with Patsy and she told me what I had hoped I would hear. Deborah Hunt had called to say she wouldn’t be in again and to transfer her patients to my workload. I sighed with relief internally, despite the extra work I didn’t really need right now. It was a white flag of surrender. The bitch was gone. I had won.
It was Halloween and leaves were blowing across the parking lot. Kids in costumes were going to the various stores that displayed signs offering treats. The sun was shining and the colors were splendid in their presentation. There was a festive atmosphere in the air and the juice bar was offering a selection of themed drinks based on apple cider.
I was in a jubilant mood and two of my clients had canceled for the end of the afternoon which gave me an early day after all. I was about to call Auggie and ask that she bring Mother in and the three of us would go to dinner when Patsy came up to me, her face solemn.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“There’s someone out here to see you, Worth, and I don’t think it’s good news.”
She never called me by my first name at the office so I knew this was not going to be something I would find pleasant.
He was dressed in a police uniform and his face was grave. I felt my heart racing, unsure whether he’d come to arrest me for some trumped up charge by my father or perhaps to serve papers for Jervis. It was neither.
“May we,” he said, motioning to my office and I nodded, taking him inside. I took my seat behind my desk and he sat opposite me.
“Dr. LaViere, when was the last time you saw your father?”
“Why, what’s he done now?” I asked, perturbed that the old man was not yet finished with me.
“Could you answer the question, Dr. LaViere?”
My mind raced, looking for an angle and deciding whether I should play my ace in the hole. After all, the law was sitting in front of me.
“I saw him last night. We talked and then I brought my mother home with me for a few days for a visit.”
“Everything was fine with him then, sir?” he asked. This wasn’t about what I thought, clearly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m sorry to tell you, Dr. LaViere, that your father was discovered late this morning by someone who works at the house. He’s dead, apparently from a gunshot wound to the head.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Worth
I followed the officer out to the farm and retched in the yard when I got out of the car. In my head, I was back to being that little boy who had forgotten to close the barn door and spent half the night chasing the mare who had escaped. I would come home, shaking and wet with mud after a dozen falls, my knees bleeding, but the mare safely put away. He would beat me with a horse whip. Worst of all, he seemed to enjoy it immensely.
Now, here I was, entering the house I’d left so recently and, this time, I was here to see him again, but not as a cowering child. I was here to identify his bloodied body.
He was just as I’d left him, seated at his desk, the bottle of bourbon empty and the glass turned over. It was his last mockery of the night — to leave a stain that could never be erased. I could see the gray tufts of hair stuck to the high back of his desk chair. The left side of his face was gone but there was enough left for me to recognize him. I nodded and the coroner replaced the sheet over the body.
“I think that will be all for now,” the coroner pronounced. “There will be an autopsy, of course, but it’s pretty apparent that he took his own life with the gun we found in his hand. One bullet was fired and the gun has been bagged for dusting. I’m sorry to bring you here to see this, Dr. LaViere, but we needed a family member to identify his remains.”
“I understand,” I said and felt the sourness in my stomach wanting to surface again. I turned away from the sight and went into the foyer. There were officials all over the house, taking photographs and stringing that horrid yellow crime scene tape everywhere. What was I going to say to Mother?
I stood outside in the yard beneath the spotlight and looked up at the sky that late October afternoon. There was a breeze rustling through what was left on the trees and the rest scattered across the yard and into the back near the barns. The horses were restless. They sensed something was terribly wrong and were anxious to run away. One of Father’s stable hands was standing at the edge of the yard and I strolled over to him. He was shaking and half-dressed, his shirt buttoned wrong.
“Pete,” I acknowledged.
“I’m awful sorry about Mr. LaViere, Doctor LaViere,” he mumbled, unsure what to say at a time like this.
“I know, Pete, and I appreciate it. Were you the one who found him?” I asked and he nodded.
“He didn’t come down to the barns like he always does and with your mother gone and no one else around, I got a little worried. I knocked on the door but no one came. I tried the handle and it was unlocked. I went in and called his name and when there was no answer, I kept on going until I found him like that, slumped over his desk.”
“You didn’t hear the shot?” I asked.
“No, sir… I was down at the next farm playing pinochle until real late and when I came back, I just went into the ranch house and went to bed. I did notice that the horses were restless, though, but I figured it was just because I’d been gone. They’re used to me always bein’ around, you know.”
I squeezed his shoulder in acknowledgment and sympathy. “Nothing you could have done, Pete. The old man always had his own way of doing things.”
Pete nodded, “That he did, Dr. LaViere… that he sure did.”
“Pete, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this to yourself for a bit more today. I haven’t told my mother yet and I wouldn’t want her to hear it from anyone else or to see it on the news.”
“They were already here, Dr. LaViere. The crew from channel three. Isn’t much you can keep from those people.”
At Pete’s words, I pulled out my cell and quickly called Auggie’s number. She answered on the third ring.
“Auggie, listen to me and don’t say a word in return. Just trust me this once. Whatever you do, I don’t want you or Mother to turn on the television or the radio. If anyone comes to the door, don’t answer it. I’ll explain as soon as I get home. I’m fine and things will be okay, but you have to do as I say this once without argument or questions. I’m hanging up now and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Auggie said nothing
and I heard the line go dead. Good girl, I thought. I can count on you.
I waited around another hour or so while the coroner’s van removed Father’s body from the house. The detectives finished up their work and left and suddenly, the house and grounds were quiet. It was an eerie feeling. One I never thought I’d witness. The reign of Worthington LaViere, II was over and now I was in charge. This would come with added responsibilities and at the moment, I wasn’t too sure I wanted them. There was nothing to be done about it for the time being, however.
“Pete, can you look after the horses and the place until I can figure out what we’re going to do?”
“Yes, sir, Dr. LaViere. Won’t be no problem at all.”
“Thank you, Pete. I’m going to lock up the house now, but I’ll leave you a key under the doormat and if anything looks suspicious, I want you to go in and check things out. Here is my number at the clinic and at home. You’re not to talk to my mother or my wife, though. Only leave a message and ask me to return the call. Can I trust you on this, Pete?”
“Yes, sir, you can always trust me. I’ve been with the family most all of my life. I won’t leave you short-handed right now.”
“I appreciate that. I won’t forget you, I promise. Whatever happens to the farm, you’ll be taken care of. Okay, I’m going now. When I leave, I want you to take a chain and put a No Trespassing sign across the end of the drive by the road. You keep an eye out and don’t let anyone on the property.”
“Yes, sir,” he said and I took one last look at the house before getting in the Escalade and driving away.
I don’t know whether shock or relief were the strongest emotions I was feeling on the ride back to town. There may have even been a bit of guilt built in, but I have no clear recollection of it now.
I remembered the story that Bill Daughtery had briefly told me and the packet of documentation, pictures, letters and even news clippings he’d given me. It had been the primary evidence as I verbally assaulted my father that last night. I tried to tell myself that this wasn’t my fault, but I was feeling strong guilt all the same.
