“Russell, this is Agent Carmichael and Agent Stephens. They have a couple questions to ask you,” Harrison told his son.
Russell looked nervously at the strangers.
“Russell,” Carmichael went down on a bent knee so he could be eye level to the boy. “Do you remember this man?” He showed Russell the photograph of Anthony Marino. Russell gave a little nod. “I understand he gave you a note. . .” Carmichael paused for a moment and glanced up to Harrison. “. . .for your mother. I’d like you to tell me about that note.”
Russell said nothing but looked nervously at his father.
“Russell, it’s okay,” Harrison told his son. “Tell Mr. Carmichael what you know.”
“No. I can’t. It’s a secret, between Mom and me.”
“Where is your wife, Mr. Coulson?” Carmichael glanced up at Harrison.
“She’s out of town. But I’m sure Russell can tell you what you need to know.”
“But Dad… ” Russell protested.
“Russell,” Harrison said sharply. “If your mother was here, she would tell you the same thing. Tell these men what they need to know. We haven’t time to play games.”
Russell was quiet for a few moments before he started to talk. “Mr. Marino said he knew my parents and that my mom was trying to arrange a surprise for my dad. He said he could help. He told me to give the note to my mother, and I was not to say anything to anyone.”
“Do you know what the surprise was?”
“No. Mom said I was to keep the note a secret.”
“Did she say anything else?” Carmichael asked.
“No.” Russell told him.
“Did Mr. Marino tell you anything else… anything that you haven’t told me?”
“No.” Russell glanced up at his father.
“You can go now Russell, run along.” Harrison gave Russell a gentle nudge.
As Russell raced from the library, Harrison walked to his chair he had been sitting at earlier, then turned to face the men.
“Gentlemen, why don’t we sit down so we can be more comfortable while we conclude our conversation,” Harrison said.
A few moments later, Carmichael and Stephens sat side by side on the sofa, while Randall and Harrison sat in the leather chairs facing them.
“I thought you said you didn’t have a relationship with Marino,” Stephens asked Randall after the four men sat down.
“I can explain,” Harrison began. “One night, we were having dinner at the Roseville, a restaurant in town. My father, wife, and eldest son, Harrison Junior. Marino was there, and sent over some champagne to our table.”
“Why would he do that?” Stephens asked.
“I can only presume, to insinuate himself into our company. He came over to our table. We were cordial with the man. Somehow, the conversation came up about men’s jewelry—I can’t recall exactly. It was all very inconsequential at the time. Apparently, Marino felt it was another opportunity to ingratiate himself with us. So he used our son to get a note to Vera, letting her know he had a connection and that if she wanted to surprise me with diamond cufflinks, he could get quality diamonds at a great price. My wife… well, despite the fact she can afford whatever she wants, loves a good deal. She told our son to keep the note secret.”
“She contacted Marino?” Carmichael asked.
“No. I found the note later that same day, and when I realized it was from Marino, I told Vera I didn’t trust the man. I figured, if he had a deal, the diamonds were probably hot. She was horrified and tore up the note. She never contacted him.”
“Do you have the note?” Stephens asked.
“Like I said, she tore it up. It was thrown away.”
“When was the last time you saw Marino?” Stephens asked.
“At the restaurant, when he sent over the champagne,” Harrison explained. “I’m sure the staff over at the Roseville will verify my story.”
“Now I would like to ask a question,” Randall spoke up. “What is this really all about? You’re obviously looking for Marino. Why?”
There was a long pause before Stephens answered Randall’s question.
“There was a contract hit, near Reno, during the first week in November. Authorities in New Jersey have two cold cases—eerily similar to the Reno killing. They always believed Marino was behind the first two but couldn’t prove it. We’re trying to track down Marino so we can talk to him, but he and his car have disappeared. No one has seen him.”
“Pretty obvious to me,” Randall said. “He’s on the run. Not sure why you had to bother a six year old.”
“We’re just trying to track down any lead we can find for some clue to his whereabouts.”
“Well,” Harrison stood up. “We’ll be happy if he doesn’t return to Coulson. But if he does, we’ll contact you immediately. Do you have a card?”
“Well, that was a big waste of time,” Stephens told Carmichael as the two men returned to their car.
“Did you honestly believe a note to a six year old might lead us to Marino?” Carmichael asked as they got into the car.
“You have to admit, it did sound intriguing. A note passed to the Grand Dame of Coulson.” Stephens chuckled as he started the engine.
“Well, it looks as if Marino is on the run,” Carmichael said.
“Funny though, not really his M.O. I would’ve expected him to be waiting at the motel, offering us a cup of coffee while he taunts us and comes up with one of his famous alibis.”
“True. But maybe he’s just screwing with us.”
“You think he’ll return to the Cliffwood?”
“I suppose it’s possible. But no one’s seen his car for a couple weeks, so I imagine he’s miles from here.”
Chapter 20
Harrison absently gazed out the side window of the Cessna, paying little attention to the fast approach of the landing strip or the sound of the undercarriage moving into place as the plane prepared for landing. Touchdown’s modest thud returned Harrison to the present and he stirred restlessly in the seat, anxious to exit the plane. Impatient for the pilot to bring the aircraft to the far end of the runway, Harrison wanted to get on with today’s agenda. He was going to see Vera.
There was a car waiting for him at the end of the runway. Harrison climbed out of the plane, its propeller still spinning. Giving the prop a wide birth, he hastily made his way to the waiting vehicle, dodging the propeller’s furious windstorm.
It was a short drive to the private sanitarium. They were expecting his arrival and security was efficient. Harrison didn’t have to wait long. In a matter of minutes, he was inside the building and being led down the hallway to his wife’s room, while the attending physician told him of Vera’s progress.
When Harrison had delivered Vera to the sanitarium, the Sunday morning after the attack, he was relieved to find the institution not as depressing as he imagined it might be. His father had assured him it was the best place for Vera; they would give her the care she needed.
At first, she had begged him not to leave her, clinging onto his arm. He promised he would return, telling her they could provide the help she needed and that he was unable to give.
“You’ll be safe here,” he told her.
“And he won’t find me?” she had asked; her eyes still wild and fearful.
“No Vera, he will never find you here.” His promise seemed to calm her, and while the doctor on admission still insisted a sedative be administered, she took it submissively and did not resist.
He found her sitting in a chair, looking out her window. Had it been spring, the view of the flower garden outside her room might have been a cheerful sight. But no colorful blossoms were in bloom, and it seemed a sad and dreary picture.
She wore one of the casual dresses he had hastily packed for the trip. That surprised him. He expected to find her wearing a robe or nightgown. Vera heard him enter the room and turned to face him. She wore no makeup. His wife seemed younger somehow. There was vulnerability in her exp
ression, which hadn’t been there before the attack.
“You came,” her voice was faint. She gave him a sad smile.
“I told you I would.”
She didn’t stand to greet him when he approached. Harrison leaned down and kissed her forehead. Glancing around, he noticed an empty chair across the room. He walked over and picked it up, then set it next to Vera. Harrison sat down. Reaching out, he took her right hand and held it.
“How are you feeling? The doctor says you’re making great progress.”
“I’m feeling much better. I want to thank you for bringing me here, Harrison. I’m sorry I fought you about it.” She gave his hand a little squeeze and withdrew it from his hold. Folding her hands together on her lap, she looked up at her husband. “Do you hate me, Harrison?” Her eyes searched his.
“No, Vera. I don’t hate you. I want you to come home. The doctor says you should be able to be home by Christmas.”
“I would rather stay here. I’m content here.”
“You can’t stay, Vera. Your place is at home.”
“He’ll find me there.”
“I told you Vera, you don’t have to worry about him. Ever again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Positive. He won’t hurt anyone ever again. But before you come home, there are some things you need to know. The FBI was looking for him.”
“Why?” Vera frowned.
“They suspect he killed someone the first week in November.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. It was a contract hit.”
“Anything else?” She looked as if she might get ill.
“They know about the note, the one he gave to Russell. It’s a good thing you told me about it.”
“What do they know about me… and him?”
“Just what I told them. I mentioned meeting him at the restaurant, the champagne he sent over. I fabricated a story about a discussion over men’s jewelry, saying he sent you a note, telling you he could get you a deal. I said I found the note that afternoon and after telling you whatever he might get would probably be stolen merchandise; you tore up the note and never called him.”
“Men’s jewelry?” Vera smile. “You’ve never worn anything but a watch.”
“It was the only thing I could come up with. When they showed up and asked to speak to Russell, the whole time—while waiting for Russell to tell his version of the story—I racked my brain trying to come up with something.”
“Thank you, Harrison. But really, leave me here. It would be for the best.”
“The boys miss you. You need to come home.”
“Garret? I find that hard to believe.”
“I suppose Garret is more angry because of Russell. He feels your hasty departure showed a lack of consideration for his younger brother. But he doesn’t understand.”
“Garret—we are a constant disappointment to each other.”
“Russell is sad you won’t be home for Thanksgiving, but I promised him you’ll be back by Christmas.”
“Christmas, I forgot. It’s almost that time. I suppose I’ll miss the annual Coulson party.”
“You don’t have to. All your friends have been told the story about your ankle and how you’ve been in private therapy. They’ll be delighted to see you.”
“Yes, I’ve received the letters and cards you forwarded. But I haven’t heard from Sonny.”
“Well, you know Sonny. He’s never been good at letter writing. Of course, we had to tell him the ankle story, in case he called the house. I haven’t spoken to him, but my father talks to him once a week.”
“Harrison, what happens when I return home? What happens with us?”
Studying his wife’s expression, he did not answer immediately.
“We’ll go back to how we were before. Before Anthony Marino came into our lives.”
Harrison returned to Coulson that afternoon. Only his father and the pilot knew he had gone out of town. Before leaving the sanitarium, Harrison again discussed Vera’s progress with the doctor. They agreed that if things continued to proceed as they had been, she could come home by Christmas.
Thanksgiving dinner around the Coulson table lacked a female presence. Randall invited John Weber to share the meal with them in Vera’s absence. Bored with the company and dinner conversation, Garret made his hasty departure after dessert and took off to hook up with friends whose parents didn’t insist they hang around the house Thanksgiving evening.
Russell was not so lucky. He took his slice of pumpkin pie into the living room to avoid the stinky cigar smoke clouding the dining room air. After finishing their dessert, the three men remained at the table, discussing business and politics.
Instead of turning on the television, Russell sat on the couch and silently ate his pie while thinking of his friends. Wondering what they were doing today, he couldn’t help but envy them their lives.
Ryan had a kid brother to hang out with. While Russell had Garret, Garret never wanted to play army men or games. The cool thing about a kid brother, if you didn’t want to hang out with him, you didn’t have to. But, if you wanted someone to play with, he was always willing. Jimmy was always anxious to be included in whatever Ryan wanted to do.
Russell wasn’t sure he would want sisters. Tommy’s sister’s liked to play with silly dolls. However, he liked looking at girls. He didn’t know why, but they fascinated him. He also liked Tommy’s mom and dad. They were different from his parents. Sometimes Mr. Chamberlain would play ball with the boys, and Mrs. Chamberlain would talk to him, like she really cared about what he had to say.
The day after Thanksgiving, Wally Keller stood on the ladder hanging Christmas lights on the motel, while his sons watched from below, ready to hand him whatever he might need. Just as he was making his way down the ladder, a car pulled into the motel parking lot.
The car stopped and a young woman and small child got out of the vehicle. After taking the toddler’s hand in hers, the woman walked toward Wally and his sons.
“Good morning,” Wally greeted. Absently, he wiped his hands on his denims.
“Hello, are you Mr. Keller?” She was a pretty thing, with large brown eyes and thick raven colored hair cascading down her back. Curvy and round, she was about five feet two inches tall. If he was to guess, he would say she was Italian.
“Yes.”
“My name is Gina Carracci. Anthony Marino is my brother.”
Wally didn’t respond immediately. Finally, he asked, “How can I help you?”
“My brother is missing, and I understand he was staying here.”
“Yes, he was. He rented a room for November, but I haven’t seen him since the first part of the month. I assume he decided to leave at the last moment. He didn’t leave anything in his room.”
“I’ve talked to the police, but they won’t help me. Everyone seems to think Anthony just took off. But I know he wouldn’t have left without contacting me. He’s never gone a week without calling me, letting me know he’s okay.”
“I’m sorry Mrs. Carracci; I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Can I see his room, please?”
Wally considered her request for a moment. Then he smiled and dug his keys out of his jean’s pocket.
“Sure, it’s this way. Boys, put the ladder and my tools away while I show Mrs. Carracci room ten.”
Gina followed Wally down the walkway as he fumbled with his keyring, looking for the right key.
“I haven’t touched the room,” he told her. “He did pay until the end of the month. I was planning on preparing it for another renter on the first.” Wally unlocked and opened the door. After flipping on the light, he stepped aside so Gina could enter.
Wally followed her into the room. She looked around, as if some secret to Marino’s disappearance would be written on the walls.
“This is not like Anthony,” she whispered, looking around the room. “Something is very wrong.” She turned and looked at Wally.
&
nbsp; “People do not understand my brother. They say he has done bad things. But he is my brother; I love him. When I was a child, he always took care of me.”
“I wish I could help you ma’am. If he comes back, I promise I’ll call you.”
“He won’t come back.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can feel it. Anthony died in this room. His spirit is still here, trapped. Something evil happened here, Mr. Keller. Something very evil.”
Chapter 21
On Thursday morning, December first, Wally Keller cleaned out room ten. Alone in the motel room, the memory of Gina Carracci’s ominous words sent chills up his spine. But when the task was complete and the spaced aired out, it seemed no different from his other motel rooms.
As the month progressed, thoughts of Anthony Marino were replaced with happier ones. Ryan and Jimmy hung their Christmas stockings over a cardboard fireplace—one purchased at the local five and dime and assembled by their father. Christmas lights sprouted up all through town, dotting the horizon with festive colors.
At Coulson House, Gladys contacted the interior designer Mrs. Coulson employed every year and arranged for the annual decorating of the estate. It would be decked out for Christmas, by the time Vera returned home.
Garret wondered what had happened to the cool guy, who was willing to buy him beer, but it was a passing thought and soon even Garret forgot about the man. The teenager surprised his family by getting straight As on his report card. In spite of his academic achievements, he didn’t abandon his wild ways.
At the Chamberlain house, Alex and Katie helped their mother decorate Christmas cookies, while Tommy helped their father put up the Christmas tree. As the gifts began to appear around the tree, the three Chamberlain children fondled the colorful packages, making guesses as to the contents.
The FBI no longer believed Anthony Marino was in the Coulson or Clement Falls area, so they began looking elsewhere. While they continued to keep an eye on the Clement Falls boarding house, should Marino return to see his sister, they no longer had any interest in Coulson or its residents.
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