Down To The Needle

by Mary Deal

  “To inherit the big bucks?”

  “There was plenty, believe me.”

  Abi remained standing and glanced again out the window. The entire coastal area basked in an Indian summer. Monk's Hill glowed in hues of pale orange in the distance. Becky Ann would have thrilled at the sight of the color. “At least now Margaret can claim what's rightfully hers.” She turned away from the view that reminded her of a free and laughing child. “Surely Thorndyke won't dare divorce her now that she's alive and stands to inherit everything. Children, Joe, did they have any?”

  “Margaret remembered having two stillborns. Then they quit trying. That must be when the marriage went sour.”

  “Endured a lousy marriage all those years in spite of it?”

  “Sounds that way.”

  Not until the first week of December did a call come from Thorndyke's secretary saying Margaret's husband and a nurse would be arriving to retrieve her. They seemed to be treating Margaret as if she were severely handicapped.

  “She doesn't need a nurse. Haven't they been in touch with her doctor?”

  “I'm sure that has something to do with it. He probably told Thorndyke that Margaret hasn't remembered her brother.”

  “He wouldn't recommend a nurse.”

  “No, but the doc's probably told them a lot they won't know how to deal with, especially if Margaret flips out over the bad news. She will need help.”

  Chapter 41

  The day before her husband was to arrive, Margaret had her hair lightened and styled. Of course, Joe picked up the tab and was again shocked at how she had reverted back to her former expensive tastes.

  The next day while nervously waiting for Thorndyke, Margaret suddenly whined. “Joe, I wish I'd have had my jowls lifted during these months. I don't want him to see me like this.”

  Abi stared out over the terrace but several times shrewdly discouraged some of the suggestive conversation Margaret tried to strike with Joe.

  Seemingly, to regain some stature among her family, or perhaps more to bolster her insecurities, Margaret purchased a stylish navy cashmere suit by Vera Wang, with a softly ruffled off-white silk blouse and navy accessories. Of course, the outfit had to include a complimentary coat in preparation for the cooler desert evenings in Texas. Margaret's real personality had never been more evident, but even plastic surgery might never restore her youthful look. Thick pancake makeup made her look like a woman making a desperate effort to hide her age. Excessive eye shadow couldn't mask the sagginess encircling her eyes.

  Later, Abi sat at the dining room table beyond the set of patio doors, going over some accounting on her laptop.

  Margaret seemed not to care that she and Joe were not really alone in the open kitchen, “What would you do if I stayed in Seaport?”

  Abi was not out of earshot and the question startled her. She stiffened at the thought of Margaret remaining.

  “You couldn't cut it with me, Margaret.”

  “We were in love once.” Her voice lulled from a place deep within her memory. “Bertrand doesn't know love. You and I could be happy again, Joe. You know I'd repay your kindness.”

  Joe gasped, insulted. “Repay? That's exactly how you'd see it, isn't it?”

  “Daddy's old now. I stand to inherit—”

  “Damn it, Margaret, stop, just stop.”

  “You may never see me again.” She tempted, yet with a threatening tone.

  “You don't understand what's going on here, do you?”

  “You saved my life. You wouldn't have done so unless you still cared. Don't deny it.”

  “I happen to love Abi. I've never been more in love with anyone in my life. She's the only woman I will ever marry.”

  Abi breathed a sigh of relief and kept her back to the conversation. She stared out the window. Joe's lawn and gardens looked just as splendid through bleary eyes.

  “You couldn't love her as much as you loved me.”

  “That wasn't love, Margaret.”

  “Just what the hell do you think it was?”

  “A challenge for a boy who wised up in the nick of time.”

  “Why do you think I fell apart when we separated?” Her voice softened. Her ability to manipulate was surely ingrained.

  “You fell apart because you had to choose between love and money.”

  “Daddy would have come around, Joe. You could have waited.”

  “Margaret!”

  She persisted. The tone in her voice taunting. “Would you see me differently now, Joe, if I got my face tightened?”

  “You're being absurd.” Exasperation rang on his voice. “I stopped responding to your games the day we said our final goodbye. It was you who made the decision to end our relationship. I don't know how fate could have brought us together again, but I'm thankful it's shown me I've become my own person.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You'll have to face whatever your husband offers you. My responsibility ends today.”

  Abi remained with her back to their conversation, thankful that Margaret could not see the tears she wiped away.

  “But Joe, it's you I've always loved.”

  Suddenly the doorbell rang. Joe bolted out of the kitchen and walked swiftly past. His look of exasperation said it all. It also said he knew he had conquered his demons.

  Abi had eavesdropped while an outdated vamp brushed up at playing a man's emotions. Abi didn't care that he knew she had heard everything. She heard Joe openly avow his love for her. Marriage to this honorable man never sounded more right.

  Bertrand Thorndyke was stiff, formal and stepped into the entry foyer as if expecting to be announced. “How do you do?” When no announcement was made he pulled off his gloves and offered merely fingertips into Joe's open handshake. He wore no wedding ring.

  Abi joined them. Thorndyke wore expensive clothing and the subtlest of men's cologne that was not all that pleasing, nor expensive smelling. He wore a neatly tied ascot and looked much older than Margaret. He should not be concerned in the least how much she might have aged.

  The nurse who accompanied him was in better shape. Looking not even close to Thorndyke's age, she seemed strong and robust. She, too, was dressed impeccably. Abi wondered if everyone involved in this family was required to look like a fashion plate held over from the 1950s.

  Not surprising, Margaret crept out of the kitchen like a child testing its parents after having been punished. Her aged image must have been what threw her in a momentary lapse of self-confidence. She eyed the other woman. Just who was this nurse who perched glasses on the end of her nose and studied Margaret as if she were examining some sort of scourge?

  “Surprised to see you again, my dear.” Thorndyke's greeting and reaction to his long lost wife were frozen formality. He made no effort to embrace her, shake her hand or touch in any way. He didn't seem the least bit interested in what she looked like.

  Margaret peered around him. “Where's Daddy?”

  “Your elderly father has been kept heavily sedated. This whole matter has been an utter shock for the poor old chap.”

  Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should have left the nurse at home then. And Mother?”

  “Oh, please.” Thorndyke paused, lost for words. He shot a slicing glance at Joe, which expressed disappointment that Joe had not broken the bad news. “I've only just stepped through the portal. There'll be time enough for all your questions.”

  Unexpectedly, Thorndyke walked to the farthest set of patio doors, looking down the length of his nose, scrutinizing the decor and photographic equipment as he passed through the room. He stood staring out over the brick patio and yard. The last smattering of fallen leaves floated, broomed from niches by gusts of wind that whirled them around the patio's corner abutments and onto the damp grass. Bertrand lifted his face and looked out toward the creek and the autumn-stripped trees. Finally, he moved to the piano between the two sets of doors, pulled out the bench and sat alone as if awaiting recognition. Then
all of a sudden, his eyes bulged. “Oh, gad!” He knocked over the piano stool when he leaped up and bolted across the room.

  The nurse ran to his side. “Bertrand, what is it?”

  “O-Over there!” He pointed toward a corner wall as if to withhold his hand. “A huge sp-spider… inside the house.”

  Joe went to where Thorndyke pointed toward a corner near a bookcase. He bent down to see. “It's nothing, just an ordinary little house spider weaving a web.” He smiled purposely. “It's welcome here, like everyone else.”

  Thorndyke threw another accusing glance at Margaret, then to Joe. “I'll say.”

  Having difficulty containing what threatened to be a forceful outburst of laughter, Abi quickly turned away.

  Joe persisted. “Spiders don't eat much.”

  “That's disgusting. They make a home look so unkempt.” When Thorndyke regained his composure, he cocked his head back, studied Joe and asked stiffly, “Just how is it that Margaret comes to be in your custody?”

  Joe's change of expression said he wasn't about to allow himself to be accused and interrogated. “Given the situation, wouldn't you help someone you once knew?”

  “You, of all people?”

  “But, dahling…” Margaret's demeanor changed to that of an outdated spoiled socialite. “It could have been anyone.”

  “This is utterly suspicious, preposterous.” Thorndyke thrust his nose and chin high. Then he cocked his head to one side and looked at her. “You certainly don't look like you've been on the… the outside. What have you really been up to?” Finally, he tentatively perched himself on the arm of a chair, acting as if he might soil his clothes by doing so.

  Abi and Joe exchanged quick glances, knowing Thorndyke was thinking his wife had been with Joe all these years.

  Margaret was apprehensive about going back. She had remembered that her marriage had been in trouble and thought her husband would have found another woman by now. Was this person who seemed only posing as a nurse actually the other woman? If so, what kind of life would Margaret be going back to?

  “Oh, don't worry about the past, dahling.” Margaret moved to his side and rubbed a hand across his back in feigned affection.

  He pulled away while the nurse watched every move. “Never-the-less, I'd like to hear how this came about.”

  “Oh, Bertie, don't fret. There could never be anything more between Joe and me.” She cast a spiteful glance at Joe. “After all these years, he's still among the working class.”

  Abi was appalled. Joe's expression said he was having difficulty biting his tongue. Abi would have blurted a grand retort, had it been her place, but that wouldn't be Joe's way. He just wanted all of them gone and neither he nor Abi would do or say anything to prolong it.

  “Well, my dear, everyone believes you ran from the accident so as not to own up.”

  “Own up? To what?”

  It was clear she had no recollection of her brother being in the accident with her. At least Bertrand recognized that too. “In any event, without knowing where you were, life had to go on.”

  Margaret glanced at the nurse and spoke through clenched teeth. “I'm sure it did.”

  The nurse's lips tightened as she squinted at Margaret. Quite possibly, Margaret's biggest challenge to reclaim her position in the family would be the one yet to come, with the nurse.

  Chapter 42

  “Hey, hey,” Det. Britto said as he entered Emery's office in a huff. “Leads on this Ulrich girl are coming in from all over the country.”

  Abi has just taken a seat. “The country? That doesn't pinpoint her whereabouts.”

  Det. Britto took the chair next to her.

  Emery seemed pleased. “We're confident. With these new developments the Supreme Court will listen to us. Hopefully the Governor will too.”

  “Oh yes, please.” But the possibility sounded too good to be true.

  Emery closed a folder and set it aside. “Expect anything. The route this case has taken over the years has been like careening down a switchback road.”

  Joe sat beside Abi and took her hand. “Does it look like we'll have enough to get the Governor's attention?” Eagerness showed on his face, with signs of the strain taking its toll.

  If new evidence could be found, even if the Supreme Court upheld the verdict, the Governor would be Becky's last chance. “Can he override the Supreme Court's findings?”

  “It's possible, but rarely been known to happen.”

  “Rarely?” Abi thought of Becky. “That means some innocent people may have been put to death.”

  “Without a doubt. Especially if not enough mitigating evidence was turned up.”

  Abi sighed heavily. “Why does every good hope have such a dark side?” Something positive had to happen soon. Each of their lives had been stretched thin as rubber bands ready to snap. Now it seemed that the tension would only intensify. Life was not supposed to be that way. When something bad occurred, eventually something good happened. The worst was that Becky was abducted. If Abi was not to have Becky back with her, was the counterbalance her wonderful relationship with Joe? If so, was the pendulum now swinging the other way, toward another negative occurrence? They needed something new that would corroborate Becky's claim of innocence.

  “The least I'll accept is executive clemency. Commutation of sentence.” Emery would have to build an entirely new case if that was his hope. But nothing new had turned up.

  “Commuted to what? The rest of my daughter's life in prison? That's not good enough.” She had to stop anticipating depressing events and stay positive, despite the knots on her insides quivering tighter and tighter.

  Emery raised a hand. “Wait, Abi.” He sunk back into his leather chair. “Life in prison would give us time to build a case to get her cleared.”

  If only Emery had jumped in way back when his interest first peaked, plenty of time would have been available.

  Det. Britto patted the back of Abi's hand again. “Okay, let's put our heads together here and see how much clout we have.”

  Anxiety had overtaken her nervous system. Abi stood and walked behind Emery's desk to the window to get away from Det. Britto, who always touched her hand or arm, seemingly to assure her. The fact that the man could cajole, assure and hit on someone all in the same moment was irritating at best. She clenched her teeth.

  “So what if these leads on Tess Ulrich die out?” Joe was beginning to sound like Abi felt. “People forget.”

  “Missing Persons has already agreed to do a follow up broadcast.” Emery sounded as if that were already old news. “Wait till you see what they've got planned.”

  “You on again, Kenton?”

  “My part's already taped.”

  “Oh, Emery.” Abi turned to face him. “We're so thankful for you, and Becky loves you too.”

  “And I love her.” He busily rummaged through files in the desk drawer and appeared not to have realized what he said.

  Abi and Joe exchanged glances and noticed that Det. Britto also caught Emery's remark.

  Another documentary had aired the previous evening discussing Yates's eye surgery and connection to the case. “That's old news, except for the part about Hazel working at Creighton Mission. Why would they include that?”

  Det. Britto cleared his throat to steal attention. “Media musta' needed something else to chew on, ma'am.”

  In the absence of having to care for her wayward brother, Det. Britto and Emery had, weeks before, convinced Hazel to get out of the house, take up volunteering at the local soup kitchen in Creighton. Though the Creighton Mission was nothing as clean and nice as Edith Armstrong's place, volunteering and being among accepting friends helped Hazel face her own difficulties.

  Joe brought the conversation back into focus. “Have you come up with anything else, Emery? Anything at all?”

  “Well, this is the way it goes. I've gone over this case as if it's my life depending on it.” He gestured to the stacks and stacks of records occupying every
inch of space on his desk. More stood on the floor beside it with more precariously perched on the tops of some books on shelves. “Becky Ann has done herself proud. She's appealed herself all the way to the Supreme Court. Nobody does that without learning the legal ins and outs.”

  “Did Becky have law knowledge to begin with?”

  “Learned it on the fly, I'd say. But every one of her appeals is a valid gripe.”

  Becky had to have a quick, analytical mind in order to get all her writs filed within the time constraints. “And still couldn't get her sentence overturned.”

  “Ah, but bought herself valuable time. In the least, she's made us all take a look at our laws.” Most often, it was through the appeals process that flaws were corrected in the legal system.

  “Will finding flaws free her?” Abi needed to sit down but wasn't about to go near Det. Britto again. She looked out the window and remembered when the streets used to remain empty during business hours. Now the streets were always crowded, well into the late hours. Like everything else, it seemed a lifetime ago.

  “Becky Ann has challenged the laws that put her where she is. Listen to this.” Emery rifled through a stack of binders and pulled one free. “One of her appeals…” He glanced over words scribbled on sticky notes attached to the page edges, then opened the binder to the page he needed. “Becky quoted a book written on the miscarriages of justice where innocent people were convicted in a case similar to hers which took place in New York. She cited that, statistically, four hundred fifty-seven people who faced the death penalty were wrongfully convicted. Of those, one hundred eighty nine were sentenced to death and forty-four actually executed. One hundred three served more than ten years in prison and twenty nine died there.”