Tidal Kin

by Lee Doty

  Even beyond appearance, Anne would never want to change her friend. One of Norma’s unusual traits was that she had the gumption to say things that needed saying, even if she knew them to be untrue, like that time several years ago when they’d tried to register Laney for third grade.

  Her granddaughter had arrived on the Cape with bad memories and a distracting facial tic, frantic blinking that surfaced whenever she was nervous. Anne had tried to calm her before the registration meeting with the principal, and had asked Norma to come with them, as her antics usually lightened the mood all around. By the time they reached the school parking lot, however, Laney’s eyes were flashing S.O.S. in Morse code.

  They sat, three in a row, knees touching the principal’s desk, with Laney between Anne and Norma. There wasn’t a sheet of paper or photo or flower or anything on the desk other than a nameplate: Melody Fluck, Principal.

  Ms. Fluck remained stiff and silent while Anne introduced Laney, explained that Norma was Laney’s godmother, and filled in the gaps of Laney’s sparse educational history. As she spoke, she couldn’t help noting Ms. Fluck’s unusually long torso and neck. Coupled with eyes set far apart, the principal’s resemblance to a giraffe was too obvious for anyone, particularly elementary school children, to miss. On top of that, she had a naughty-sounding surname, leaving her prey to childhood mischief and adult pity. All this Anne concluded after the meeting. During the meeting, she could only wonder where the woman’s insensitivity came from.

  “And Laney’s first and middle name? Is it really Alanis Morissette? Perhaps you could explain that, Ms. Sager.”

  Anne also thought it outrageous that Gin had named her daughter after a rock singer, especially one whose award-winning album, “Jagged Little Pill,” summoned up the nightmare of Gin’s own life of addiction. In front of Laney she could only squeeze out a meek smile and say, “A phase of her mother’s.”

  “Well, I would have expected you to have had more influence in such a critical matter. That you didn’t probably explains a great deal. But let me save us all some valuable time. You don’t need to waste yours filling out forms for the third grade and I won’t waste mine reviewing them. Based upon her poor school attendance alone, your granddaughter will have to be retained in second grade. If that doesn’t suit you, there’s always private school. Now, anything else?” Ms. Fluck pressed her hands against her desk as if to rise.

  Anne knew Laney was bright. She also knew the embarrassment of having to repeat second grade would be worse for Laney than having to work hard to catch up to grade level. Didn’t every educator know that? Anne pleaded Laney’s case, and the more she did, the more sanctimonious Ms. Fluck’s responses became. But when Ms. Fluck turned to Laney and asked her to “stop that blinking,” Norma took over.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Fluck. Laney, would you mind stepping outside for a moment?”

  Only when the door closed did Norma continue. “What’s the matter, Melody? You don’t like kids? Or maybe there are just certain ones you don’t like. Are you bothered by the possibility Laney has Tourette syndrome—might disrupt the class? The fact that you’re not even willing to evaluate her suggests you might be. Do we need to take the matter up with the superintendent in a Section 136A filing?”

  Preparing to do battle, Ms. Fluck seemed to further elongate her neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Norma stood. “I think you do. And the super does too. He won’t appreciate yet another 136A when he’s on his way to Boston to plead for funds.”

  Anne was on the verge of saying Laney didn’t have Tourette syndrome when Norma cut her off. “Don’t! Don’t say another word, Anne. I can tell you’re upset.”

  Norma rolled out more code references, case citations, and potential grim outcomes for Melody Fluck if she didn’t do what she was “legally obligated to do.” She bombarded the principal with erudite legislative history, fiery administrative law rulings, and astronomic fines and penalties should Fluck be found in violation of the law. By the time they left Fluck’s office, Laney was enrolled in the third grade and Anne had learned the value of letting Norma be herself. She also learned about Section 136A.

  “What is that anyway, Norm?”

  “Not sure. I think it came up in a dangerous dog case I handled.”

  Now, the image of defeat, Norma sat slumped against Anne’s couch, eyes closed, moaning. “God. God.”

  “Need a glass of something?” Anne asked.

  “Scotch.”

  When Anne returned with the drink, Norma was staring at the ceiling. Without a word she took the glass and swallowed the liquid.

  “Tell me what’s up, Norm.”

  “You won’t believe what those scumbags did.”

  “Which scumbags?” Anne sat down and stole a glance at her wristwatch.

  “The bozos who now own the Inn at Cockle Cove. I used to represent this nice old lady, Mary Temple, when she owned the inn. She willed it to her sons, the bozos. You knew Mary— short silver hair with bangs, leathery skin, always a big smile? Now her sons are planning to sue me. They’ve sent me a copy of the suit papers, demanding I have my insurance company contact them or they’ll actually file the suit.”

  “What’s their claim?”

  “Their mother owned the inn, but she also was in partnership with the owners of Red River Resort. She decided to sell her Red River interest to the other Red River partners so she’d have capital to put into Cockle Cove Inn, make some renovations before she died. I did the legal work. Her sons now say Mary needed their consent to sell her interest in Red River. They say she’d given them a right of first refusal, in writing, and claim I knew about it and ignored it, or worse, persuaded Mary to ignore it. Assholes.”

  “When was the sale?”

  “About eighteen months ago.”

  “Why didn’t they speak up then?”

  “Good question. They don’t live here and they say they didn’t know about the sale until their mother died. They say their mother must have forgotten about needing their consent because she was mentally incapacitated, and I should have known that she wasn’t capable of handling her own affairs. It’s such bullshit.”

  Norma shook the ice cubes in her glass and poured them into her mouth. Anne almost had to raise her voice over the savage crunching. “Sounds fishy to me, Norma. What do they want you to do about it now?”

  Norma didn’t answer.

  Anne had never seen her friend so pale. “Norma?”

  “They want a lot of money for my alleged negligence. Millions.”

  In the distance a siren wailed, almost like a sound effect for the disastrous sum.

  “Ridiculous. They’re just being greedy. The jury will see they’re gold-digging.” Anne tried to think of other reassuring comments. “Can you just turn it over to your insurance company and let them handle it?”

  Norma’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve had to cut back on expenses. Haven’t paid my premium. Bastards!” She held out her glass for a refill.

  The epithet seemed to embrace Mary Temple’s sons as well as the insurance company. Anne wished she could spend more time helping Norma, but she was concerned about Laney, normally punctual to a fault and now an hour overdue. Was that siren getting louder? “I’ll get your drink and then I’m just going to shoot down to the beach. Laney’s late.” As she stood to go, Laney called from the front yard.

  “Gran! Open the door. My hands are full.”

  “I’m relieved she’s back, but I’m going to talk to her about making me worry,” Anne said as she opened the door. “What in the world?” A uniformed officer stood behind Laney.

  “Somebody drowned, Gran.” Laney dropped her gear in the front hall. She spotted Norma in the next room and ran in. “I found a man, dead. It was awful. I found him.”

  4

  Norma took in Laney’s state. The girl rocked from side to side trying to get her story out, but her chattering teeth made it impossible.

  Anne thanked the officer, grabb
ed a throw from the couch, and wrapped it around Laney’s shoulders. “Don’t talk.” She rubbed her shoulders and shushed her. “Norma, will you make some tea while we get dry clothes?”

  “But we have to go back to the beach, Gran. The police say they need me to tell them what happened and you have to go with me.”

  “Hold the phone.” Norma stood. “What do you mean by ‘what happened’? How would you know? Did you see the man drown? Who’s down there saying you need to make a statement, Laney? Barney Fife?”

  “Norm. Don’t grill her.”

  “Oh come on, Anne. Everyone knows the locals should always defer to the state troopers when there’s a death like this.”

  “Just go easy.”

  When Norma returned with the tea she said, “But what did you see, Laney? Why do the police want you to come back?”

  Laney’s tic, almost outgrown, came back with a vengeance as she tried to tell her story. “I was getting ready to walk home from the Paw—that’s what I call the end of the beach.”

  “What? Why were you all the way down there?” Anne’s voice was shrill.

  Norma said, “Who’s grilling now? Go on, Laney.”

  “I’m not sure what happened next.” The girl closed her eyes. “I must have cried out or something because this lady came up to me and asked what was wrong and then she started screaming and then there was a big crowd and then this police in regular clothes.... I just can’t remember anything else.”

  “I’m putting brandy in the tea, Anne. Don’t argue with me.”

  The women plied their charge with laced tea and peanut butter sandwiches. They kept conversation general until Anne took Laney upstairs.

  Norma mulled over Laney’s situation as she finally got around to her scotch refill. Much as she was annoyed about the questioning Laney was bound to undergo with the police, the girl was unharmed and her scary story might even give her a certain cachet when school started. But having reassured herself about Laney, she’d only freed herself to fret about her own problems.

  In her brief glance at the Summons and Complaint, she’d seen references to an agreement that described Mary Temple’s legal obligations to her sons in the event she sold her interest in Red River Resort. In conducting her due diligence, a review of background documents to make sure the sale was proper, Norma would have come across those legal obligations. So why did she have no memory of them? “Because they didn’t exist, that’s why,” she told herself.

  And how about the buyers, the other partners owning Red River Resort? Why weren’t they being sued too? They had deep pockets, right?

  She brooded over these questions as she took her empty glass to the kitchen. Through the window above the sink she could see Wheezy and her party friends gathered along Anne’s split-rail fence. They were all watching a man clearly headed for Anne’s front door. Tall, mid-forties, heavy brow over dark eyes, khaki shorts, and a faded blue baseball cap. Nice enough looking. Familiar too. Norma wondered if he was the “police in regular clothes” who’d shown up when Laney discovered the body. He came down the stone path.

  “Ugh.” She took her time reaching the screen door, despite his repeated knocks on the door frame. “Keep your shirt on. I can hear you.” She opened the door and yelled, “Go away!” in the general direction of Wheezy’s crowd, and let him in.

  The man, removing his cap, looked at her in surprise. “Hello. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Sorry.” He smiled. “I thought you might remember me. I recognize you from the Baxter case. You’re Norma Bergen? You handled the defense very well. I was a witness for the prosecution.”

  “Right.” It pissed her off he was bringing up a case she’d lost. It was probably a deliberate ploy to put her on the defensive. “Anyway, you’ll have to remind me of your name.”

  He nodded and said, “Let’s start again. I’m Lieutenant Will Coigne, a state trooper. We investigate—”

  “I know. You investigate serious crime. You work out of the State Police Barracks in Skaket and report to the District Attorney. Established in 1869, Massachusetts has the oldest state police force in the northern hemisphere. So, now that we’ve settled that, what do you have to do with an accidental drowning?”

  “May I come in?” His eyes were still smiling, but they held questions too.

  She stepped back. By now she remembered him, and what she’d learned about him during the Baxter trial. He was tied to the Irish Mafia—at least his father was for certain, and word had it he was too. His father was now serving time for crimes of the heinous variety. No way that kind of thing didn’t rub off on a son. Nothing sickened Norma like a dirty cop. How he ever got to be a state trooper, much less a lieutenant, she didn’t know.

  “It’s really a coincidence that I was in the area when the call came in about the drowning victim. I’ve been staying—”

  “Let me help you get to the point, Coigne. You want to speak with Laney because you think a thirteen-year-old has unique insights about some poor guy who had the bad taste to drown on the Fourth of July. You want to talk to her even though the beach was full of adults who saw the same damn thing.”

  For a second he looked surprised, then he recovered, but without his smile. “Would you ask her to come here, please? I understand the young lady lives with”—he referred to his notes—“her grandmother, Anne Sager?”

  “The child is in shock, Lieutenant and won’t be available for some time. When she is, we’ll have her write down what she knows. I’ll make sure you see it. Fair enough?”

  Still standing by the front door, Norma noticed a Ford Taurus unmarked cruiser idling by the fence.

  Coigne said, “I’d like to speak to Ms. Sager too. Now.”

  She hadn’t expected pushback. Was this guy just looking for something to do on a hot afternoon, or was there more to the drowning than she thought? Something in Coigne’s tone worried her. She kept her hand on the doorknob and studied his face. Officer Friendly had disappeared. In his place was a man confident he knew more about the facts of the drowning than she did.

  “What’s up, Coigne? Why can’t this wait? And what’s the cruiser for?”

  It was Coigne’s turn to make an assessment. She knew he was trying to figure out whether he’d get more cooperation from her if he opened up or not.

  “We need to have the girl come to the Barracks. The situation is more complicated than a drowned guy with poor taste.”

  “Okay, I wasn’t respectful—”

  “It’s unlikely the death was accidental, unless the guy was trying to see how long he could hold his breath with his mouth, hands, and feet bound. If that was the case, then I guess you could call it accidental. Obviously we’ll draw no conclusions one way or the other until we investigate.”

  For a moment neither spoke. Then Norma asked, “Do you know who it was?”

  “Not yet. Doesn’t look like a tourist though.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “No bathing suit, fully clothed, ready for business.”

  Norma wanted to keep the questions rolling to forestall his interview with Laney. It wasn’t just that the girl had had a shock. Norma didn’t want Coigne poking around in her past, which was bound to come out. Having to talk about her worthless mother and absent father would only upset her.

  “Don’t be close-minded, Lieutenant. He could be a tourist. He parks the wife and kids in a cottage down here for two weeks and comes out from Boston to see them on the weekend.”

  “Don’t think so. Guy like that takes off his tie soon as he crosses the bridge. Not this man.”

  “Bound with his own tie? Efficient.”

  “Look, I’d like to stick around and hypothesize, but I’m actually a little busy.”

  Sarcasm, second time in one afternoon. How she hated it. “Didn’t think you state troopers knew words like hypothesize.”

  “You going to go get them or do I have to?”

  Before she coul
d answer, Laney and Anne were on their way downstairs. Laney had regained some color and lost her wide-eyed look, but Norma still worried. If the drowning victim had met with foul play, then word of the highly visible visit by the police would spread, possibly to the perpetrator, putting Laney in harm’s way. Maybe she was overreacting, but Norma wanted control of the interview and wanted it brief.

  “Anne, Lieutenant Coigne here wants to talk to Laney about—”

  “She won’t be gone more than an hour, Ms. Sager.”

  “Gone?” Anne stared at Coigne. “You want to take her somewhere?” Anne turned to Norma. “Can’t they talk here? She’s had a shock.”

  “It looks as though it wasn’t an accidental drowning, Anne.” Norma walked over and held both Laney’s hands. “The man who drowned was tied up with his tie, so they figure someone intended him to drown.”

  Coigne’s voice rose. “You need to let me handle this witness.”

  Anne moved between Laney and Coigne. “She’s not a witness, Lieutenant. She’s an eighth grader going into ninth.”

  “It wasn’t his tie, Aunt Norma. It was tape. Duct tape.”

  5

  Laney felt proud to share information even Aunt Norma didn’t have.

  Lieutenant Coigne was the first to break the silence that followed her announcement. “What else do you remember, Laney?”

  “She already told us she remembers nothing.”

  Aunt Norma sounded mad. Laney wondered if she was signaling for her to keep quiet. For her own reasons Laney hesitated to tell Lieutenant Coigne about something she’d just remembered: the foreign man who returned for his sandals. What if the police put him in jail because of her? He’d be furious, at her. Besides, she didn’t get a good look at him, just his sandals. And that other man with him, was he even real? The police would think she imagined them both and they’d be unhappy with her too.