A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

  Clothes had been pulled from the drawers and the closets. The dresser lay facedown on the rug and the antique desk had lost a leg. The mattress and bedsprings sat upended on the far side of the room. Their search of the bathroom showed that Vanessa’s cosmetics and toiletries had been smashed in the sink and bathtub. A faint scent of cigarettes lingered in the room, but the perpetrator was long gone.

  16

  Vanessa: Farewell to the Empire State

  February 1, 2013

  Rob, the hotel owner and manager, rushed back from home as soon as he received the call from his night manager, arriving moments after Chip’s officers started their examination of the hotel rooms. He quickly took charge of moving Vanessa and Jack to the two nicest rooms in the main building. Free meals and accommodations were theirs for the rest of their stay.

  By the time she crawled into her new bed, it was close to two in the morning, and Vanessa was grateful but too tired to care about the gesture. His remorse and concern appeared to be genuine and heartfelt from what Vanessa could tell. Still, who knew how far Carl’s tentacles reached, even in lovely Avalon? As best she could tell, most of her belongings were still intact, which was also a blessing since she didn’t plan to spend precious time shopping before returning to California.

  Still shaken, they were back on the road with Paul after breakfast the next morning, headed to a medium security facility near Lake Ontario, current home to Greg Harris, husband of Charlene Shaw Harris. He would be their last interview.

  Paul gave them the background as they rolled down the flat Dewey Thru-y, as Paul called New York State’s Thomas E. Dewey Thruway.

  “Greg’s just a minor player in the Harris family,” he said. “His dad was a cousin to Carl and them. He died of a heart attack and Greg moved in with Carl. He started running errands and stuff for Zeke before he graduated from high school. Carl didn’t like that, but Zeke always got his way. Greg married Charlene Shaw and they had a baby girl named Alison.”

  “How did Del take that?” Jack asked. “Denise Harris told us he thought the other kids were his, right? Didn’t Charlene’s boyfriend Johnny disappear? I’d have been very nervous if I were Greg.”

  “Oh, Rosie approved of the whole thing, according to my mom,” Paul said. He checked his rearview mirrors and gave the windshield another squirt. “It wasn’t like Del was ever going to marry Charlene, what with her being his stepdaughter and all. But Rosie liked to keep things tight. In the family.”

  Vanessa’s head gave an involuntary quiver. “Yuck.”

  “I think Charlene loved Greg,” Paul said. “At least until she divorced him. I guess she’d finally had enough. He’d led her astray, doing drugs, selling drugs, making meth. He’d done some small time for minor drug stuff, but then he went to Florida for Vernon, Zeke’s brother, a couple of years after Zeke died.”

  “A drug deal, I assume,” Vanessa said.

  “Oh yeah. A big one and it went wrong in a big way once he got back. He said that Vernon’s son, Elliot, had set him up and then dropped the dime. Elliot was married to Charlene’s mother by that time. There was no love lost there.”

  “Was that true? Did Elliot set up his cousin?” Jack asked.

  Paul strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “It could be, it could be. I’d never trust a Harris as far as I could throw him.” He seemed proud of his own wit. “Anyway, Charlene got pulled in trying to help Greg. That was supposed to be after the fact, but I think that was a deal Greg cut with the district attorney so that she’d get less time and he’d get more.”

  “That was when the kids went to California?” Vanessa asked.

  “Yup. All three. Gone.”

  * * *

  Greg had the Harris look in a scaled-down way. Just over six feet tall, he had red hair, peppered with white that matched the bushy eyebrows over his green eyes. He was hefty, but more muscular than Larry. Vanessa was pleased to note that his face was relaxed, with an open gaze, thinly disguised under tough posturing.

  Jack went through his now-familiar patter about the bones and the DNA as Greg listened.

  “Louise and Troy,” Greg said. “Tough. Nasty. I was already here when Rosie died and they disappeared. I can’t offer much.”

  “Rosie was trying to set Louise up to take over when she died,” Vanessa said. “Were you on board with that? Louise had the chops for it. She was smart and she was willing to make the hard decisions. Not like Carl.”

  “Del was the brains of the family. When he died there were slim pickings on who could lead. Elliot and Vernon tried for a while and they failed, big time. Louise was an idiot, but it’s not like I got a vote. Besides, Carl was the one who took me in after my dad died. No way I’d be a supporter of Louise.”

  “So you say now,” Jack said. “Why do you think Louise and Troy went to California?”

  “Keep in mind I’d been in here for close to two years by the time Rosie died. Charlene was in Bedford and she was divorcing me, and the kids were all in California with Marly. No one was telling me anything. I didn’t know what was going on. I don’t get many visits. Marly makes sure the kids write me every week and send email, and we talk on the phone, but that’s not inside information. I did hear that Rosie was sick and that it might be terminal. My complaint was that she didn’t die fast enough. I figured Uncle Carl would take over and things would be sane and my kids would be safe.”

  “How about these days?” Vanessa asked.

  “I hear from Betty, Carl’s wife, pretty regular, but I don’t ask about what Carl’s up to. I’m up for parole soon and I’m keeping my nose out of that business. My daughter’s fourteen. I might have a chance to know her a little bit.”

  Vanessa gave a mental squint. Is this guy for real or is he faking this good attitude stuff?

  “Why did Charlene divorce you?”

  “I guess that’s kind of obvious. I dragged her into this mess and she did time. Plus, I wasn’t a great husband. I didn’t protect Mark and Pammy. I liked meth and I could never hold a real job. Who could blame her? Now I’m clean and I’m going to stay that way. I screwed up, but if I’m lucky I’ll get out in time to build a different life.”

  “Marly gave you money, didn’t she?” Vanessa asked. “You’re under Marlyfication.”

  Greg let out a guffaw. “Marlyfication. That’s good. No money. Yet. Marly is all about positive motivation. If I mind my manners and keep working on my education, I’ll have a stake to start again and access for visits.”

  “It sounds like Marly could be cut from the same cloth as Rosie,” Jack said.

  “Nah. Marly can be like a dog with a bone, but she has a soft heart. She knows what it’s like to miss an imperfect father. She wants me to have a relationship with Alison. Mark and Pammy, too. She’s a healer. She builds. Rosie was about control and punishing. ‘Forgive and forget’ was lost on Rosie. She could never forget an insult, so she could never forgive. No vision, just punishment.”

  “Who were Louise and Troy sent to punish in California?” Jack asked.

  Greg’s face hardened and he stared at the table.

  “Your cousin Judson? Marly? Elaine Fardig? Your children?”

  Vanessa watched Greg’s face as Jack recited the list. At first Greg frowned, but his eyes widened at the mention of the children and his mouth drooped.

  “I can’t see that Rosie would go after Judson,” he said. “That would be suicide. Carl wouldn’t stand for it. He’d pull out all the stops to get revenge. Still, Rosie wasn’t known for being the most rational person on the planet.”

  “What about Marly or Elaine?”

  Greg’s frown had the effect of squeezing his eyebrows together to form a long, hairy line. “Rosie did not like Marly, but she’d left town. Rosie was one of those people who have to see their demons to stay focused. And she’d been burned once before when she messed with Elaine. I think she’d learned to leave the Fardigs well enough alone.”

  “And your kids?”

  “Doesn�
��t make much sense either. Mark and Pammy are Carl’s step-grandchildren. She’d be courting major hurt if she touched them. Besides, going after children would be weak. I can’t see how that would help her set up Louise to take over.”

  As they got ready to leave, Greg offered one parting remark. “You know what surprised me is that nothing happened to Carl. I was worried for him.”

  “You mean that Rosie planned to have Carl killed?” Jack asked.

  “It might seem far-fetched, even for them, but if Rosie wanted to leave Louise in control, Carl would be the biggest obstacle.”

  * * *

  Back on the Thruway, Jack and Vanessa went over their notes. “I’m glad we touched all the bases, but I don’t see that we learned much,” Jack said.

  Dusk settled in as a heavy snowfall picked up just short of Syracuse. For all his shortcomings, Paul was a steady driver. Vanessa dozed as they rolled along the flat darkness and didn’t rouse until they passed through the lights of the tollbooth and headed for the twisting road up to the Avalon ridge.

  “That truck has been following us for a long time,” Jack said, looking over his shoulder.

  Vanessa sat up straight, wide-awake. Paul was studying the rearview mirror more than the road ahead. Jack fumbled under his coat for his gun.

  Vanessa looked out the back, but all she could see were the lights of a large vehicle, close behind. Very close. As she turned back to face front, the truck’s high beams flipped on, along with a row of bright lights on the roof of the cab, flooding the inside of their car with light.

  “How long has he been there?”

  “Since the other side of Syracuse, as best I could tell,” Paul said. He shot another look in the rearview mirror and kept both hands visible on the wheel. “Maybe before that, but since the last Syracuse exit there’s been no traffic. I couldn’t get him to pass me and I couldn’t pull away.”

  Vanessa reached under her armpit for her service revolver, grateful that she had removed it from the trunk when they left the prison.

  “Should we call it in on the radio?” Jack asked.

  Paul’s head turned back and forth in a very slow, minimal move. “No. Don’t reach for that. If those folks are up to no good, they may have a radio with police band. We’ll be in Avalon in about fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m going to duck down a bit and call Chip on my cell phone,” Vanessa said.

  “Keep that hidden. Tell him we’re on the river road.”

  Vanessa placed the phone in her lap and hit the speaker function after she dialed the Avalon Police Department number.

  An officer she’d met once picked up. She wasted no time and explained their situation and relayed Paul’s information.

  “Tell Paul to keep driving. We’re on our way. I’ll tell Chip,” he said.

  The truck edged forward, riding their bumper, mere inches away, from what Vanessa could determine.

  “Should you pull over?” Jack asked.

  “Not a chance,” Paul said. “There’s no shoulder and those snowdrifts on either side are very high. I’m going to hog the road and go slow. This cruiser is big. He won’t be able to pass or force us off the road. If he pushed us hard enough to turn us sideways, we’d block the road and he’d be trapped behind us.”

  “What if they have someone waiting up ahead to cut us off? They could force us to stop,” Vanessa said, hoping her voice sounded firm.

  “All the more reason to go slow and steady,” Paul said. “Keep your weapons handy.”

  Vanessa had to hand it to Paul. He was jumpy about silly things, but when the situation looked serious, he was focused.

  Time seemed to crawl slower than the pace of Paul’s car, but after ten long minutes the two vehicles reached a high, straight section of road. A flash of blue lights bobbed in the distance. Moments later, the truck made a sharp right and veered away down a side road.

  Chip jumped out of one of the two parked cruisers as Paul skidded to a stop. Vanessa felt a flash of concern for Chip, planted in the way of Paul’s slipstream, but Paul deftly landed his car facing across the road.

  Paul rolled down his window.

  “Well, well,” Chip said. “Glad to see you’re all here and intact.”

  * * *

  “As usual, not much concrete to go on,” Chip said. His face was flushed and his eyes had lost their characteristic twinkle. “I’m glad you’re leaving tomorrow. It seems that someone has decided you’re a threat. I can’t promise we can always be able to help.”

  Vanessa’s body tingled as she tried to push away her anger. “Don’t you think you should send out a couple of cars to track down that truck?”

  Chip snapped back. “Welcome to my little corner of hell, Detective Alba. I’ll call the county sheriff, but I don’t have the resources to look under every snowflake.”

  “You know that Carl had to be behind this, right? And at the hotel? And on the road from Charon Springs? Are there other Harris factions we don’t know about?”

  “You’re a cop, Detective. I can’t just go and arrest Carl. He doesn’t even own a truck. If I could bring Carl to heel, I’d be man of the year around here.” Chip’s mouth was pressed into a grim line.

  “He’s protecting someone.”

  “Brilliant deduction.”

  “Isn’t that kind of an odd way to show his affection? Doesn’t he realize that we now know we’re getting close to someone?”

  Chip’s eyes brightened and his voice regained its cheerful volume. “Detective Alba, I have learned to never overestimate the intelligence of the Harris crowd. Which doesn’t make them any less dangerous.”

  “What about Marly Shaw?” Jack asked. “She’s smart. Would Carl protect her?”

  Chip rocked back on his heels and considered Jack.

  “Marly’s not a Harris. And she’s been gone a long time. Long before my time in office. In my opinion, the connection is very tenuous and doesn’t seem likely. You two should go get dinner and a good night’s sleep. We’ll keep looking, but don’t expect much. Paul and I will come by to see you off tomorrow morning.”

  * * *

  Vanessa and Jack retreated to the hotel, where they raided the minibar in Jack’s room several times before they calmed down enough for dinner.

  “Ready to go home tomorrow?” Jack asked. They had turned down Rob’s offer of a more elegant meal and planned to go back to their preferred Italian place.

  “There is a lot more buried. That’s clear. It’s like unraveling a sweater by pulling on one string. Still, I don’t know that we can get more for our case here. I have to say that I am also looking forward to leaving this kind of winter behind.”

  “Yeah, it’s official. We’re weather wimps,” Jack said. “But when it comes to Louise and Troy, it feels like a lot of heat but not much light.”

  “That bugs the hell out of me. Let’s face it. The crap here is neck deep when it comes to the Harrises, but we aren’t going to solve any of that or get any closer on our case by staying in New York. The only one who might know is Carl, and he’d never talk. My boss is also having the team run down the cell phone calls for the time Louise and Troy were in California and checking on Judson Harris. We may get some more information from that.”

  “Gut feel?”

  Vanessa tossed back the last of her minibar vodka. “Nothing good. But there are several people in California whom I’m looking forward to meeting.”

  17

  Marly: Breakout

  January–August 2001

  The aftermath of the 2000 presidential election provided a welcome distraction from Marly’s self-absorbed obsession with staying alive. Charon Springs was a bright red Republican dimple in a very conservative district, even though most of the state voted for Al Gore. Marly dabbled in basic statistics, calculating odds, sampling the election data, and became a news junkie. She didn’t have much of an opinion on the aftermath of Bush versus Gore, but she was grateful for the distraction.

  At last, all was settle
d. From her perch on the second floor of the library, Marly monitored the impromptu inaugural party for George W. Bush at the Rock despite wretched January weather. A fight spilled out into the parking lot.

  By the next election she’d be able to vote. She crossed her fingers and prayed she would be registered somewhere far from Charon Springs.

  January exerted an eerie pall that frayed her nerves and kept her looking over her shoulder for Del. The intense cold combined with wood smoke and exhaust emissions to create a hazy fog that sank to the bottom of the valley and kept everyone huddled indoors. Key Harris family members had been arrested, but their presence still haunted each stretch of vacant road and silent woodlot.

  Marly followed Machiavelli’s advice: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. She raised no objections when her mother smoked inside the house. She made her mother gin and orange juice cocktails. Through gritted teeth, she called her mother “Mom” and—once or twice—“Mommy.”

  Won over by the charm offensive, Denise reported on Harris family activities to her newfound confidant. Rosie might have been confined to her home, but she was still very much a player, plotting to take control.

  “She’d like to be the one in charge, one hundred percent,” Denise said over dinner. “There’s no way that will happen. She’s only a Harris by marriage, you know. Besides, if she goes to prison for a bit, she won’t be here to defend her territory.”

  Marly noted she should plan to be long gone before the next battle broke out. No matter who won, peasants like her always got the short end of the stick.

  The new regime change also meant that Vernon’s son, Elliot, was elevated to do most of the actual work since Vernon was confined to his wheelchair. That wouldn’t have been so bad except that by the end of January, Elliot showed up at their house to court Denise.