by Ritter Ames
“Sane drivers in Italy? I don’t think so.”
“Point taken.” He was still chuckling, but asked, “What do you want me to do about the paintings and the auction? Use the card to trace the printer? See if I can find who ordered them?”
“That’s an idea. And if we can find the printer we may be able to learn if they used any kind of bulk mailing service and see who the cards were shipped to.” This was opening up all kinds of new ideas, and I made a mental note to see if I could find a list of service businesses who did confidential mailings for clients like Colle. “I realize you can’t do any of those things until we get the physical card to you, Nico. I was thinking that in the interim it might be worth it to see if there is any new chatter from our sources about a secret auction or the three paintings in the grouping.”
“Sì, I can do that.”
“But finding Colle’s new look takes priority,” I reminded.
Twenty
The Friday morning rush was heavy, but since traffic isn’t ever light in New York we moved about as fast as one could travel to exit the metro area. The ugly gray leftover snow from a couple of days before lined the roadway. It was cold, but at least we didn’t have to deal with any precipitation. Another benefit: we drove the opposite direction from most of the workday vehicles. Bumper to bumper went out of the city, too, but our car did move markedly faster than those in the oncoming lanes. Our destination lay only about thirty miles north, but it still took us over an hour of drive time.
To me, Westchester County was beautiful year-round, but the hints of spring were everywhere, and Scarsdale was no different. Jack had agreed to meet the detective downtown, at the Village Center. The scenic town might have been well-funded and boasted all the amenities, but its downtown sector still resembled a kind of upscale Tudor village surrounded by parks and green spaces.
“Does it look any different since you left?” Jack asked, gliding into a parking space near a main street restaurant that was open and advertising breakfast.
“Scarsdale is like most towns. It updates, but never really changes,” I said. “I have many good childhood memories of living here. Not so good after grandfather died and his son started his wastrel campaign to reduce the family holdings to penury status.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, and I added, “I know, that sounded over the top. But it feels better when the fall of the Beacham fortune sounds like something you’d read in a reference book, rather than the hard-luck tale of my personal history. You can’t really be poor and live in Scarsdale. At least, I couldn’t. Give me my scholastic illusions.”
“Paint your story any way you prefer,” he said, chuckling.
We went inside, and Jack texted the detective that we’d arrived. We each ordered all-American breakfasts of eggs, toast, hash browns, and bacon. He added a short stack of pancakes too, but I’d never been a pancake-eating girl. The best part was the way the waitress never let my coffee cup get empty.
Our plates were taken away just as a white-haired, smiling man arrived at the door with a younger brunette woman, obviously his daughter, pushing his wheelchair. One of the waitresses opened the door and welcomed them. When the man asked something, the waitress bent down to listen, then pointed toward our table. Jack jumped up to move away one of the chairs and make room for the wheelchair.
I stood and held out a hand, “Detective Harmon, thank you so much for meeting with us. I’m Laurel Beacham.”
He grabbed my hand in both of his. “It’s nice to meet you. I’d know you anywhere. You look just like your mother.”
“This means a lot, Detective Harmon.”
“You can call me Doug. It’s been ten years since I was Detective Harmon.”
“But he’s still everyone’s first call when they have a problem to solve,” his daughter said, smiling and resting a hand on her father’s shoulder.
When he let go of my hand to shake Jack’s, she stepped up and introduced herself, “Hello, I’m Joanne Kocourek. I’m Doug’s daughter, but I wanted to meet you because I was a nurse in the hospital when they brought in your mother.”
“Wow! Really? Thank you for being part of the team who worked so hard for her.” I felt tears in my eyes.
She leaned over and grabbed a couple of napkins from the silver holder in the middle of the table and pressed them into my hands. “She fought hard. I remember your grandmother sneaking you into the ICU, so you could sing to try to make her better. I can still close my eyes and see you singing.”
“I’d forgotten all about that. I remember being so worried because there was a big plastic tube thing in her mouth, and I thought that was why she couldn’t open her eyes and smile at me.” I wiped away a tear. “That was the last time I saw her until the funeral.”
Joanne pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit down, then took the remaining chair adjacent to mine. Jack and Detective Harmon were already going over data in the files. The pages were photocopies, and I could tell some of the originals had been carbonless multipage documents and were a little harder to read in the black and white form, but the detective seemed to know all of it by heart.
“I never believed that one-car-accident verdict, but we couldn’t get enough evidence for anyone to press charges.”
The waitress brought two fresh cups of coffee and refilled Jack’s and mine. A minute later she brought over a basket of mini muffins. Doug gave a shout of thanks.
“We appreciate this, Vicki,” Joanne said.
Walking around Doug to give him a one-armed hug, Vicki said, “Have to keep my favorite customers happy.”
Doug’s files were thorough. When it looked like crime scene pictures were coming, I excused myself, “Have to go powder my nose.” I waited about ten minutes before returning. There were close up photos of car parts, witness statements, and even interview transcripts lying around the table, but it looked like I missed what would have been upsetting to hear and see. I let the sound of the talk wash over me and contemplated what I’d said last night to Jack. Now that I was here and faced with the facts, the ratio was more fifty-fifty, though my not wanting to meet with Max when I came to New York still took a slight lead.
I thought back a couple of decades to that day in the ICU. Grandmamma wasn’t fooling anyone, obviously, but at the time I thought we were accomplishing the best kind of stealth. I saw my mother and put my hand on her arm, planning to shake it to try and wake her, except the many I.V. lines frightened me, and I was afraid my doing so would hurt her. That’s when Grandmamma suggested I sing a song. I sang “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” because it was one my mother and I often sang together. I sang it over and over until I started to cry. That was the last time I sang those words. I couldn’t even sing the alphabet song in kindergarten because it used the same tune.
The next piece of evidence Doug pulled out and unfolded was a large-scale map. It showed the area’s topography and natural structures around Scarsdale. He’d made endless notes and small sketched drawings on the page. He showed us where my mother’s car apparently began having difficulty in slowing down or stopping and the route she traveled, her speed more than twice what the safety limit was on the curvy road. Finally, the spot where her car sped so fast it hurdled the tall rocky outcropping, went over the top, and hit a huge pine tree on the down side of the hill.
Because the rocks didn’t show her tire marks, no one realized her car was wrecked on the other side. It was hours before a couple of hikers found her and called for emergency crews. The medical team fought to save her, and Joanne patted my arm as her father and Jack talked, telling me how people still remembered my mother. But she never woke up. She’d lost too much blood. It had taken too long to get her to the hospital.
The detective’s words caught my attention again when he spoke about the scene. “Your grandfather hired demolition guys to come in and blow up that rocky hill,” he said. “Made it a straight view from
the road to the green fields beyond. Now, of course, some developer went in and filled up the field below with houses.” He shook his head and drank from his cup.
Doug had copies of everything in his files so Jack and I could take the evidence back with us.
This has definitely been a week for files from the past, I thought.
We stayed through the lunch hour, and I ate the best meatloaf I’d had in years, along with loaded mashed potatoes and brown gravy. I wanted to pack a suitcase full of nothing but the yeast rolls. I loved traveling around the world with my job, but at that exact moment I realized I really wanted roots. No, I didn’t want to come back to Scarsdale permanently, but I was ready to get a place of my own. With my own furniture and my own alarm system. Maybe learn to cook more than scrambled eggs. I couldn’t play tagalong with Cassie forever. She’d already set the pace and I needed to learn to keep up.
When we left, we carried go-bowls of cherry pie, because even I couldn’t find room to eat it. I hugged Doug Harmon goodbye and thanked him again for his help. While he and Jack traded last stories, I walked over to Joanne.
“He’s a very special man, your dad,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “He’s never let this one go. No matter how much evidence he brought in, the case was turned away.”
“You think the DA or someone higher up was bought off?”
She shrugged. “I know it kept Dad up nights, trying to figure out another strategy. Another way to deliver a fact no one could misconstrue or deny. I was surprised when he said Jack contacted him about the case. Dad was surprised, too, but happy the case was getting reexamined. We all figured once your father died in that skiing accident everything was over.”
“Yes,” I said, trying to smile effortlessly, but knowing I wasn’t succeeding. “Life is funny. Sometimes the things you think are over are only on hiatus.”
She stared at me for several seconds, then said, “I think you want to tell me something, but you can’t. You know, if you ever need to talk, there are counselors who want to listen, and are ethically bound not to let the words go past the office door.” She pointed at Jack. “And see those files under his arm? I put my address and phone number inside the green one. I’m never more than a phone call away. You’re never alone.”
I chewed my lower lip for a second, then got my mouth working in a real smile. “Thank you, Joanne. I was honestly afraid about what this day would bring up and what cracks it would make in the armor I’d built around myself. But I’m leaving here feeling stronger than I felt even an hour ago. Thank you, and please thank your father for me.”
She pulled me into a goodbye hug and I think we both shed a few tears.
“Are you going to drive by your family’s old home?” she asked.
“I don’t think I want to,” I said. “I’d rather keep it in my mind the way I remember the place.”
“I can understand that,” she said.
Jack was pushing the wheelchair out to the sidewalk while Joanne followed him and I brought up the rear. He turned his head and gave me a raised eyebrow. I smiled, and he turned back around, heading for the SUV that Doug pointed to down the block.
“I do wish I could talk to my old nanny,” I said. “She got married and moved away about fifteen years ago.”
Joanne stopped. “Do you mean Kelly Hobbs?”
“Yes. Did you know her?”
“Of course. We’re friends. She moved back three years ago.”
I set the pie containers on the hood of our rental car and asked, “Can I find her today?”
“In about thirty seconds,” Joanne said. “She works a couple of doors down. Follow me.”
I forgot about Jack and Doug, and the fact they probably didn’t know why we were heading the opposite way. All I could focus on was seeing Kelly again.
The business was a delivery dinner service, with food prep employees working at stainless counters and appliances while they chopped, cooked, and packaged up food specialties. Joanne led me to the office and knocked on the doorframe. “Hey, Kelly, I have someone here who would like to say hello to you.”
“Who?”
I heard the voice and knew immediately. Joanne stepped aside and waved me in. When Kelly saw me, she covered her mouth with her hands, burst into tears and pulled me into a hug. “Oh, Laurel, honey, I’ve thought of you so often.”
Joanne spoke up then, “Well, I’ll leave you two. I need to get back to Dad.”
I pulled out of my hug with Kelly and gave Joanne another quick one. “Thank you so much, Joanne, for everything you’ve done. You made a special day even more special.”
Kelly and I sat on the sofa in her office and fired questions and answers at one another. She’d moved back after her husband passed away because she still had so many friends in the area. She’d trained police recruits in hand-to-hand combat for a while, and admitted she had the martial arts training I’d had my suspicions about. But when she got tired of not knowing how to cook the food she really wanted to eat or was too exhausted to try, and saw so many people like herself eating unhealthy meals they took from the grocery freezer, she opened this storefront business. She now had two dozen employees.
“I just take the money and keep the books, and I leave with delicious meals that are foolproof every time,” she said.
“What a great story.”
“And the best part is I can employ moms who just need part-time positions too,” she explained, brushing her bangs aside with one hand. “We have three full-time positions shared by six part-time employees. As one leaves, the other takes the station and finishes the day. I love giving women flexibility.”
“So, no more training police for martial arts?”
“I lead tai chi every morning in the park for a crowd of about thirty. But no more aggressive training. I work out to keep my skills, but that’s all.” She raised her hands to encompass her business. “This place keeps me busy enough.”
She asked about my career. She’d followed my name when she caught it in the papers but wasn’t sure exactly what I did. I honestly would have loved to tell her everything—I doubted she’d be frightened to hear it, but I imagined it would worry her—so I gave her the Readers’ Digest condensed version I relied on when I was afraid I might say too much.
When I finished, I said, “I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I’d really like to know exactly why my grandparents hired you, given the training you had. I’ve been putting some memories together lately. Having known your skill in martial arts, and the fact I received Bruno our German shepherd about the same time…well…Were you really hired as my nanny?” Then I stated what I really felt, “Or my bodyguard.”
“I always knew you were sharp,” she said. She looked away for a moment as if deciding what to say. When she turned back, there was something in her eyes that told me she’d made peace with whatever it was. “I’ve never tried to get between someone and their family. But I always wondered why your grandmother hired me too. I had no nanny training, just experience being an older sister with younger siblings. But she got my contact information from a friend and came to see me. Gave me this song and dance about how she was frightened you might get kidnapped. Asked me to come and just see if I liked the job. No pressure.”
She got up and walked over to a bookcase and removed a framed picture to hand to me. I was small, looking even smaller from the weighty expression on my face as I held a wildflower in my hands. Kelly was kneeled down beside me in the shot, looking at me but pointing to the camera. I could still hear the words she’d said that day, trying to coax a smile from me.
“That was you and me the first month I began working for your family,” she said, pointing to our images in the picture. “Your mother had just died, your father was barely around, and when he was, your grandmother watched his every move. And you were the sweetest, saddest little thing I’d ever seen. Yo
u missed your mother so much. I remember lying on the bed and holding you as you said prayers and asked for the angels to let your mother come back. I was hooked. I had to stay and help you smile again. Then I had to stay to help you laugh again. Then I had to stay because I didn’t want to leave.”
“Thank you.” I stood and walked over to return the frame to its shelf. “I can honestly say that most of the best memories of my childhood included you. I’m so glad you decided to stay, Kelly.”
“Me, too, honey.”
We talked a bit more, then I looked at my watch and realized I’d left Jack to fend for himself for nearly an hour without even letting him know where I was going.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure Joanne told him,” Kelly said, placing a comforting hand on my arm. She rose and moved to her desk, plucking a business card from a standing holder. “Here’s my address, phone, email, Skype, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, you name it,” she said, smiling. “Let’s keep in touch, okay?”
I pulled one of my own cards from the Prada and swapped it for hers. “Definitely. It’s been so good to catch up with you. I guess the only person I haven’t talked to is Dexter, our chauffeur. I still smile when I think about him saving Mad Magazine for me each month, so I could fold up the back cover and see the secret picture.”
Kelly shook her head and crossed her arms. “I don’t know what happened to Dex. Even after I moved we kept in touch. For a while, he worried he’d lose his job after your grandfather died, but the last time we talked he was so excited. Said your father suddenly offered him free dental insurance. Dex had a toothache, and your dad said that was the worst kind of pain, and he should have offered dental coverage years ago. Your dad made an appointment for Dex right then with his own dentist and told whoever he was talking to on the phone to get Dex fixed up with all the crowns he needed to keep him from having to get dentures. I still remember the excitement in Dexter’s voice when he told me. Repeated the conversations word for word. Made me glad your dad was so unexpectedly thoughtful because Dex would have just lived with the pain otherwise.”
