The Burnt Orange Sunrise

by David Handler

  “Which mission is that, Aaron?”

  “Grandmother was going to leave all of her money to the ACLU. Mind you, I happen to think that’s akin to pissing down one’s own leg. But the pure concept itself, the idea of using one’s money for the common good, that is just so noble. I should be doing that, too. And I want to try.”

  “How would you go about doing it?”

  “By selling Astrid’s Castle,” he replied, nodding his large head up and down. “And using the proceeds to fund a new think tank devoted to political and social reform. Possibly a weekly journal as well. I was just jotting down a few thoughts on the subject. I am talking about minting an entirely new movement to bridge the widening gap between left and right in this nation. There are just so many issues now, whether it be abortion or gun control, the environment, affirmative action … we don’t debate them intelligently anymore. Simply talk past one another, and then call each other ‘idiotic’ or ‘un-American’ or just plain ‘evil.’ It’s as if our lives have turned into one never-ending installment of Hardball. For which, I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve been rewarded most handsomely,” he allowed, tugging uncomfortably at his bow tie. “But a heavy price has been paid. We can no longer find any common ground. That’s what I’d like to call it—Common Ground.” Aaron gazed at her beseechingly, hungry for her approval. “What do you think, Des?”

  Des studied the man. He seemed genuinely worked up about this. Also terribly needy for approval. Mitch had been right about him, not that she’d ever doubted it. “What I think,” she replied, “is that I wouldn’t expect you to be very interested in this.”

  “Oh, I absolutely am,” he assured her. “Just look at what’s happened here. Look what happens when people don’t talk to each other.”

  “What did happen here, Aaron?”

  “A wake-up call, that’s what—for me.”

  Not only needy but so self-centered that from where he sat, these two murders were not about his mother and grandmother, they were about him. “And how does Carly fit into your new plans?”

  “She’s a bright and gifted scholar. I hope she’ll contribute.”

  “And your marriage?”

  Aaron drew back a bit. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

  “Yes, you do. You know perfectly well.”

  “Hannah shot her mouth off, didn’t she?” he said, casting a guilty look down the hallway.

  “Hannah didn’t have to shoot off anything. You’re plenty obvious all by yourself,” Des shoved her glasses up her nose and said, “Tell me, were you aware of your mother’s heart problems?”

  “I knew she was fat,” Aaron answered bluntly. “I knew she needed surgery and wouldn’t have it.”

  “Did you know she took heart medication?”

  “I assumed she did.”

  “Any idea what she was taking?”

  “I have no idea at all.”

  “Aaron, did you get up at all last night? Possibly go downstairs?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Just answer the question, please.”

  “I slept very soundly last night. I’d consumed a couple of snifters of single malt before dinner, and a good deal of wine. Carly and I read in bed for a while. We extinguished our lanterns at approximately eleven, then went to sleep.”

  “Stayed put in your own bed all night, did you?”

  “Just exactly what kind of man do you think I am?” Aaron demanded, arching an eyebrow at her.

  “A man who cheats on his wife.”

  “You know what I think?” he shot back defensively. “I think you’re predisposed to dislike me. You’re blatantly prejudiced against me, in point of fact, because I happen to espouse traditional conservative values. You know nothing about my marriage or my … situation.”

  “So fill me in.”

  “For starters, I was not waiting for Carly to fall asleep so I could tiptoe across the hall and slip into the sack with Hannah. That would be unforgivably cruel, not to mention stupid. Carly happens to be a pathologically light sleeper. If I so much as twitch a finger in the night, she wakes right up to ask me what’s wrong. There is no way I could go to Hannah without Carly knowing. I made it abundantly clear to Hannah that nothing could happen between us while we were up here, which Hannah was fine with. And I…” Aaron hesitated, his nose beginning to twitch. “I do plan to come clean about this. I decided it just now in my room. I’m going to tell Carly all about Hannah.”

  “You’re a day late and a dollar short, Aaron. Carly already knows.”

  Aaron’s eyes widened at her. “She does?”

  “She’s known about you and Hannah for weeks.”

  “So that’s it,” he said, thumbing his white chin stubble thoughtfully. “I had a feeling that something was … as I told you last evening, she’s been acting rather strange of late.”

  “I wouldn’t call it strange it all. You’ve brought your mistress to your mother’s house for a major family event. How do you think that makes Carly feel? If my man did that to me, I’d be acting a whole lot more than strange.”

  Aaron grimaced. “I guess I have that coming. I won’t try to excuse my behavior.”

  “Good, because you can’t.”

  “But I would like to explain myself to you, if you don’t mind. Because you have no idea what it was like to be me—a chess-club fatty who every boy always picked on and no girl ever wanted. How could someone like you possibly understand what that’s like? Just look at you. You’re built like a swimsuit model, you’re gorgeous, you’re—”

  “Are you hitting on me now?”

  “No! I’m simply pointing out that you’ve doubtless been fighting off guys since you were twelve years old. What you need to realize is that no one ever wanted me. Not ever. And now, because I happen to be a television celebrity, women actually do want me. Beautiful women. And, yes, I’ve succumbed to temptation. How could I not? It would be unnatural to deny myself after so many years of pain and suffering. Surely you can understand that much.”

  “I absolutely can, Aaron. But I also understand that you took an oath when you got married, and you’ve violated it. So kindly spare me the boo-hoo, okay? Because I was married to a player myself once, and I’ve heard all of the excuses, and they all add up to one great big pile of lame.”

  Aaron looked at her in hurt silence. “You genuinely don’t like me, do you?”

  “What do you care?”

  “I’m not perfect, I freely acknowledge that. But I swear to you, my days as a player, as you call it, are behind me. I am going to end this thing with Hannah. She’ll be disappointed, to be sure, principally because she sees me as her career savior. I did what I could for her with Grandmother. In that regard, my conscience is clear. It’s not my fault the old girl is dead, is it?”

  “I wouldn’t know. You didn’t exactly answer my question before.”

  “Regarding what?”

  “Regarding Carly. Did you succeed in calming her down when you came up here looking for her?”

  Aaron’s face dropped. “I can’t say I did, no.”

  “Exactly where was she?”

  “You’ll have to ask her that. The truth is, I never found her. Not until I heard Hannah scream.” Aaron’s eyes fell on the door to room three. “I came running out here into the hall, and Carly was standing right there outside of Ada’s room with Hannah and Spence.”

  “Where had you been?”

  “In our room.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes, alone.”

  “What were you doing in there?”

  “Looking for Carly, as I just said. My God, you don’t actually believe I’m the killer, do you?”

  “Aaron, I’m simply asking questions,” Des said. All the while thinking that Aaron Ackerman had no one to vouch for him when Ada was strangled. Not a soul.

  Downstairs, Teddy finally switched to a new tune—an Ellington number, “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.”

 
; “Do you think it’s too late?” asked Aaron.

  “Too late for what?”

  “To save my marriage.”

  “If the love is still there, it’s never too late. But Carly did tell me that she’s thinking about divorcing you.”

  “She would never do that. She didn’t mean it.”

  “She sounded like she meant it, but you know her better than I do.”

  “I will try to be a better husband from now on,” he said with firm resolve. “I just have to figure out how.”

  “By showing her the love and respect she deserves. By being honest with her. Hell, Aaron, do I have to draw you a picture? You’re a smart guy.”

  “Not when it comes to women I’m not. I’m still that same lonely fat boy sitting all by himself in the cafeteria, wishing that some nice girl would come and sit—”

  “Man, if you start in on this chess-club stuff again, I swear I will get ugly.”

  “You’re right, you’re right; I’m sorry.” Aaron scratched irritably at the stubble on his neck. A rash was forming at the edge of his tightly buttoned shirt collar. “Carly will be fine on her own, if that’s the course she decides to take. But I hope that doesn’t happen. I’d genuinely like to save our marriage. I mean that.”

  “I’m sure you do. From where I’m sitting, your future depends on it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because if Carly decides to get nasty, you can forget all about Common Ground. Also your town house, your farm and your stock portfolio. She’d clean your clock in a divorce court.”

  “You’re not incorrect,” he admitted. “I simply have to do a better job. If I don’t, I’ll lose everything. It starts at home, doesn’t it? Learning how to listen to each other, I mean.”

  “Beats the hell out of Hardball, if you ask me. But that’s just one girl’s opinion.”

  “Well, from this moment on, it is my top priority. Carly is my top priority.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Des said, wondering if he meant one single word of this.

  “May I speak with her?” he asked.

  “Not just yet. Soon.”

  Des led Aaron back to his room and went to fetch Carly from room eight, her mind turning it over. Aaron had no one to vouch for him when his grandmother was strangled. This gave him opportunity, and that made him a suspect. But what about his mother’s death? Certainly, he had the greatest motive of anyone for killing Norma—becoming lord of Astrid’s Castle was one hell of a motive. Only, what about opportunity? Could Aaron have engineered that digoxin overdose in the night? How? Acting alone? Or with someone else, someone like Hannah, as his accomplice?

  Carly was huddled in her mink in a chair before the fireplace, jotting down notes on an Astrid’s Castle notepad and smoking a cigarette. Des still could not get over how much older and plainer she looked with her hair tied back and no makeup on.

  “Is it my turn now?” she asked, glancing up at Des a bit skeptically.

  Des stayed in the doorway so she could keep an eye on the hall. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” Carly flicked her cigarette into the fireplace, tore several pages off the notepad and folded them into the pocket of her fur.

  “That seems to be contagious today,” Des observed as the professor followed her to the chairs at the top of the stairs. “Aaron was making notes just now himself.”

  “We ought to compare them. That would be good for a laugh.” Carly sat in the chair her husband had just vacated, shivering inside her fur. “I was just trying to get some personal priorities straight. I find I think better when I have a pen in my hand.”

  “I hear you. With me, it’s a piece of graphite stick.” Des sat back down, gazing at Carly intently.

  Carly stared right back at her, her manner not the least bit guarded or uneasy. She was not behaving like someone who had anything to hide from the law. She just seemed cold. “What can I tell you, Des?”

  “For starters, where were you when Ada got attacked? Aaron said he came up here looking for you, but you weren’t in your room.”

  “I know.” Carly nodded her blond head. “I was having a cigarette out on the observation deck.”

  Des shot a look at the glass door down at the end of the hall. “Kind of nasty outside, isn’t it?”

  “I’m a smoker,” Carly said. “They shove us out into the rain, the sleet, snow, dark of night—we all ought to just quit our current jobs and become mail carriers. I guess I’m not being very amusing, am I?” She lowered her eyes. “Do you want the real truth?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “I needed some space from Acky. He can make me so crazy, and I hate feeling that way. I don’t feel like me anymore. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I’d like to, Carly.”

  “I feel like an airhead in a daytime soap opera. Someone who is bovine and clueless and pathetic. I have a doctorate, damn it. How did I end up this way?”

  “You fell in love, that’s how.”

  “Never again,” Carly vowed. “I will never let another man do this to me. I’m going to buy myself a nice little brick Victorian near campus in Staunton. I’ll have my books, many comfortable chairs. I’ll get myself a half dozen cats—”

  “I can help you out in that department.”

  “And I’ll become dear old prune-faced Professor Cade, Mary Baldwin’s faculty eccentric. I’ll have my students over for tea and spirited political discussions. I’ll author a definitive text or two. When I retire, they’ll name a building after me. I’ll certainly be in a position to leave them a lot of money. Just think how many thousands of dollars a year I will no longer be spending to inject toxins into my face.” Carly broke off, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry, you’re trying to take my witness statement and I’m carrying on like a lunatic.”

  “You’re not doing anything of the sort. Was anyone else with you out there on the observation deck?”

  “Not a soul.”

  “Do you know where Aaron was at the time?”

  “Why, what did he say?”

  “Carly, the format we’re searching for here is I ask the questions and you answer them, okay?”

  “Acky was in our room, I think.”

  “But you don’t know this for sure?”

  “I don’t know anything. I was coming back inside when I heard Hannah scream. She was standing right here in the hall outside of Ada’s room.”

  “Can you recall exactly where Aaron was at that moment?”

  “He was out here in the hall with Hannah and Spence.”

  “He got here before you?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Interesting,” Des said, because this directly contradicted what Aaron had just told her. One of them was lying. Or, possibly, mistaken. Witnesses often remembered a sequence of events differently. It could mean something. It could mean nothing. “Let’s talk about last night, Carly. Can you describe how your night was for me?”

  “It was long,” she said, letting out a humorless laugh. “Put yourself in my position, Des. My unfaithful husband is lying there next to me. His humid young whore is parked in bed across the hall, waiting for him to make passionate love to her. I didn’t drop off for a single second. I was too busy waiting to catch those two in the act.”

  “And did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. Aaron stayed in our bed all night. He never got up once.”

  “What about the other nights since you folks arrived here?”

  “He hasn’t dared. He grabs what he can when he thinks it’s safe, like when I caught the two of them kissing out on the observation deck yesterday. But he’s slept straight through the night every night. I can tell by his breathing. It’s deep and steady. When he’s awake, it’s much shallower and more ragged.”

  “Sounds like you’ve made a real study of it.”

  “When you’re married to a man like Acky, you become a pulmonary specialist, believe me.”

  “Oh, I believe you,” Des said, w
ondering if Carly was being even remotely straight with her. Wondering if she’d lie to protect her husband. If she’d kill for him. What if all was not as it appeared to be? What if Aaron’s fling with Hannah, Carly’s little vanishing act last evening, the ladies’ lounge histrionics—what if all of that was a ploy to throw off suspicion? What if Aaron and Carly were, in actuality, doing just fine together? So fine that they’d teamed up to commit these murders? “Last night, Carly, is there any chance that you yourself dropped off for a little while?”

  “No chance at all,” Carly answered crisply. “I was awake all night hashing over my new life plan. I’ve come up with my three top priorities. Number one is to rid myself of my humiliating, debasing marriage.”

  “And the other two?”

  “Quit smoking and start researching a new book. I need to sink my teeth into some solid work. Work is the best man cure I know. Other than starting over with another man, of course. And that’s not going to happen. Not for a good, long while. This time, I’m taking care of me.”

  “Carly, did you happen to get up in the night? Perhaps slip out for a quick smoke?”

  “Not a chance. I couldn’t. I’m afraid of the dark, you see. Always have been.”

  “Did you hear anyone else slip out? Footsteps out here in the hall? Doors opening or closing? Because if you were awake all night…”

  “I was, I swear.”

  “Then you’re in a real position to help me. Think hard, please. This is important.”

  Carly considered this for a moment, her eyes lingering on the sealed doors to rooms one and three. “You’re wondering about Norma, I imagine. If Norma got up, I didn’t hear her. But her room is right here next to the stairs. We’re over in five.”

  “Ada was right next door to you. Did you hear her get up?”

  “I’m sorry, no. I can’t help you with that.”

  Des wasn’t sure whether to buy this or not. While it was true that she herself had easily heard Les open and close the door to room ten from room one, it was also true that Les had not been making any effort to keep quiet. In the middle of the night, Norma and Ada doubtless would have.