“Every rat in the world is going to come out of the woodwork. Stories are going to start circulating. I want each of you to give me your personal word that you won’t say one word or give interviews to anyone. I’d like to see a show of hands. Good, I knew I could count on you guys. I’ll arrange a memorial service at Good Shepherd for day after tomorrow. The service will be small and private. I don’t know what to tell you about the tour other than to say it’s off. I took out insurance, so no one is going to lose anything. Your salaries will continue for the next ninety days as specified by your individual contracts. I think it’s safe to say your lives will not change financially. Dallas insisted early on that we carry megainsurance in case something like this ever happened. Is there anything you want to ask me?”
Big Al Cherensky stood up. “Did anyone call Sara?”
“Sara?” Adam said.
“The lady Dallas was going to marry. That Sara. You know all that, Adam. You’re just in shock now. I’d do it, but I don’t know where she lives. I’m sure she’s heard the news, but it would be nice if one of us called her. You’re the logical choice, Adam, since you’re Dallas’s brother. She left the hospital because her contract wasn’t renewed,” Al said.
“I told Dallas she was a quack,” Sandi Sims said. “I just bet she wasn’t experienced enough to save Billy’s life. I told that to Dallas, too. He was having second thoughts about getting married. He told me so when he auditioned my friend to replace Billy. I want my song, too. Its mine.”
“That’s spite talking. What song are you talking about? The only song Dallas was working on was the one about Billy, and it wasn’t going well. He couldn’t get it right. You’re just mad because Dallas broke it off with you. Admit it,” Al said. “You’re just jealous because he was going to marry Sara. Don’t go saying bad things about her either. She’s a real nice lady.”
His head pounding, Adam listened to the verbal exchange. What the hell was going on here?
“I did the breaking off, jerk. I told Dallas I wasn’t ready to get married. He was just stringing her along. She got him over a bad time when Billy died. He told me that, so don’t go saying I’m making this up, Al.”
Adam looked pointedly at Sandi Sims. “Maybe you should explain what you mean by your song.”
“I can do better than that. I can sing some of the words to you. He was going to call it ‘Sandi’s Song.’ ”
Adam listened as she sang the opening lines of the song. The triumphant look on her face bothered him. Then he remembered Dallas’s scribbles and the initials SS on some of the tattered sheet music. His voice was beyond cold when he said, “If it was your song, why didn’t he give it to you? I didn’t see anything in the studio, and he didn’t tell me about it. Do any of you guys know anything?” The band members shook their heads.
“I just bet that . . . doctor took it and will try to claim it as hers. I’m staking my claim right now in front of all of you. It’s up to you, Adam, to get it back. It was here a few weeks ago. If it’s gone, then she stole it!” Sandi’s face was so contorted in rage, Adam blanched.
“She’s a doctor. She wouldn’t steal. Doctors have ethics,” Al said vehemently.
“Yeah, right. I’d like to know what you’d do or say if Dallas had written a song for you. I keep telling all of you, Dallas was having second thoughts about marrying her. When she sells that song, maybe you’ll believe me then.”
Al’s voice was so chilly that Sandi moved to the end of the kitchen. “And your motives are pure, right?”
“What’s mine is mine. Why don’t we cut a deal here? We get the song back and record it. We split everything evenly. How’s that for sharing?”
“That’s enough. Dallas would have left something behind if there was such a song. There was nothing in the studio but some scribbling. I need something more concrete to go on than your word, Sandi. I can’t accuse a respectable doctor of stealing something Dallas might well have given to her. I am not about to let Dallas’s estate become a legal battling ground.”
“Yeah, well what are you going to do when she sells it and it goes to the top of the charts? It will, you know. She stole it right from under your nose. Dallas was . . . sometimes he didn’t pay attention to things. He always did sheet music first, so it will be in his handwriting. How will you disprove that, Adam Lord? With the money she makes from selling the song, she could build a private hospital. That’s probably her game.”
“Shut up, Sandi, you don’t know anything about Dr. Killian. Another thing, we only have your word that you did the dumping. Dallas told me personally he called it quits with you,” Big Al said.
Adam rubbed his temples, hoping to lessen the pounding in his head. “This goes on hold for now. I have to leave for the airport. We’ll conduct business after the services for Dallas. I don’t want to hear another damn word about songs or love affairs. Is that clear? Split up, go to the cottages, and hang out there. We’ll talk later.”
“Mr. Lord, can I speak to you a moment?” Adam walked to the corner of the kitchen, the housekeeper following. “I just wanted to say how very sorry I am about your brother. Dallas, he told me to call him Dallas, never treated me like an employee. He was always kind and considerate. A lot of times he hired extra people to help me. He said he didn’t want to overwork me. You probably don’t know this, and he told me not to tell, but now . . . he helped put my boy through college. I don’t want you to think I asked him or anything like that. One day he overheard me on the telephone with the college trying to arrange a payment plan. He just did it. He never said a word to me. Two days later the college called and said Josh’s bill was paid in full by Mr. Lord. He got upset when I tried to thank him. Your brother did a lot of kind things no one knows about. Josh and his friends always had front-row seats for his concerts. I feel like part of my insides have been ripped out.”
Tillie’s shoulder started to shake as she fought the tears that were burning her eyes. Adam took her in his arms and crooned soft words, his own eyes burning.
“It’s okay, Mr. Lord, if you don’t need me anymore. Don’t be afraid to tell me. I won’t have any problem getting a job. Dallas gave me a very generous Christmas bonus right after Thanksgiving. I’ll be fine. I’ll stay on as long as you need me. I just can’t believe he’s gone.” This time the tears flowed unchecked. “He’s never going to come into the kitchen again to ask me to make him a weenie with sauerkraut or try out his songs on me. I tried telling him hot dogs had too many nitrates in them, but he didn’t care. He did love hot dogs. And marshmallows. He just loved junk food. Dallas knew how to cook. Did you know that, Mr. Lord?”
Adam’s voice was gruff. “No, Tillie, I didn’t know that.”
“He told me how you used to cook for the band to save money. He was so very proud of you, Mr. Lord. He was forever telling Josh how smart you were and how you took care of everything for everyone. He made Josh swear he’d finish school and go on to get his master’s. He said he would pay for it all. Dallas said to Josh the greatest gift he could give me would be to succeed in school the way you did. My boy is a certified public accountant and is thinking of opening his own office with a friend. I don’t know who was more proud of him, your brother or me. He flew home from New York for Josh’s graduation. At the reception afterward, Dallas entertained. It was the best. I know Josh will never forget that day. When I told him about . . . he got his old ten-speed out and took off. He didn’t come back for seven hours. He was that upset.”
Adam struggled for words that refused to move past his lips. He patted her shoulder as he tried to control his emotions.
“Enough of my prattling on like this. Now, tell me, what do you want me to do? Mr. Lord, will all these people be here for dinner?”
“Yes. Just do your best, Tillie. A buffet, anything really. Scrambled eggs will be fine. You better order enough food for the next few days. Can you handle it?”
‘Yes, sir. Sir?”
“Yes.”
“The doctor is a
nice lady. Mr. Lord liked her very much. I only met her twice. Your brother was so worried the press would invade her privacy. He didn’t want that to happen. I heard him singing the song to her. Then I heard them singing it together. It was a real pretty song. I wish I could remember the words, but I can’t.” She started to cry again.
Adam nodded. He found his voice. “Thanks for telling me, Tillie.”
Adam walked outside, clenching his teeth so hard he thought his jaw would crack. Now he had to do the impossible. He had to claim his brother’s body. How in the name of God was he going to be able to do that without falling apart?
Chapter Eleven
Sara huddled deep into the deck chair, a lap robe about her. It was unseasonably cool for this time of year. She shivered, but not from the cold, as she stared into the backyard, aware that it would grow dark soon. Like she cared. One day, one night. What difference did it make? Each day was the same as the one before it.
It had been a week since Dallas’s memorial service. No one had contacted her, so she’d watched the service on television along with the world until she couldn’t bear it a moment longer. They had cremated Dallas, but no one said what would be done with his ashes. Was it her place to tell someone he’d wanted his ashes dropped from an airplane so they would scatter, as Dallas had said, to the four corners of the world? Who would listen to her?
Christmas was short days away. That, too, would be just another day. Maybe she would spend Christmas with Nellie Pulaski and her cats. Then again, maybe she’d spend the day in bed. Nothing seemed to matter.
The door onto the deck opened. Carly was making pot roast. It smelled wonderful. Not that she would eat any. She no longer had to worry about the ten pounds she’d put on this past year. Her weight had dropped immediately on the news of Dallas’s death. In ten days she’d lost thirteen pounds. A very unlucky number. Carly said she looked skeletal. “Sara, we’re going to eat in ten minutes. I went up to the attic and brought down all the Christmas decorations. When we finish dinner, we’re going to the market to pick up our tree. I picked one out the other day and put my name on it. I don’t want to hear a word, Sara. I refuse to go away on a holiday and leave you here without a Christmas tree. We’re doing the same thing we’ve been doing every year since Mom and Dad died. This year isn’t going to be any different. When we’re done with the tree and everything is tidy, I want to see you wrap my presents. See, Sara. I want to see you make the effort. Another thing, go upstairs and put some concealer under your eyes. You look ghastly.” It was all said in one breathless rush of emotion.
“Yes, Mother. Is there anything else wrong with me?”
“A lot of things, Sara. You aren’t making any kind of effort that I can see to get back on track. You can’t wallow forever.”
“It’s only been a week since the service, Carly. What do you want me to do? I cleaned the house, washed the kitchen curtains. I did the grocery shopping. I carried in a ton of firewood and stacked it because you like a fire. I need this time to . . . think.”
“About what? About marrying a man you weren’t sure you were in love with or are you thinking about the private hospital you aren’t going to get?”
“Yes to the first, no to the second. Every time I think about Dallas I get this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. The day after Christmas I’m going to New York. I sent a lot of resumes to New York hospitals. I’ll follow through while I’m there. See, I made a plan, and I’ll stick to it. Do you want me to mash the potatoes before or after I go upstairs to put on some concealer?”
“After will be fine. Do you want corn or peas?”
“It doesn’t matter. Okay, corn.”
“Go!”
Carly babbled throughout dinner. Sara stirred and mashed at the food on her plate.
“You should be ashamed of yourself for wasting all that food. We don’t even have a dog to give it to. Do you have any idea how many starving people there are in this world? Right now you don’t care either, I can tell. It was a good dinner, Sara. You didn’t even pretend to eat. If you get sick, I’m not taking care of you. Get your coat and let’s go get the tree.”
“Someone is ringing the bell. It’s probably Nellie, so ask her to come along,” Sara said, shrugging into her coat. “I’ll be in the garage.”
Carly stomped her way to the front door, her hands clenched into tight fists. She wished she could slap some sense into her sister. She yanked at the door, her eyes widening in surprise. Be cool. Stay cool. Look blank. “Yes?”
“Dr. Killian?”
“No.”
“And you are?” Adam Lord said coolly.
“The person who lives here. And who might you be?”
“I’m Adam Lord.” He handed over a business card.
Carly looked at it. “So?”
“I’d like to speak with Dr. Killian.”
“why?”
“It’s a private matter.”
“My sister and I do not have private matters. Tell me what you want, and I’ll see if she wants to speak with you.”
Adam stared at the young woman in front of him. He was reminded of himself years ago when he acted as a buffer for Dallas. He switched his mind-set. “I want to talk to her about ... Billy Sweet.”
You should go to Benton Memorial for that kind of information. My sister was one of-many doctors who attended Mr. Sweet the day he died. I was the charge nurse. If there is nothing else, I have plans for this evening. Excuse me.”
“I need to talk to Dr. Killian.”
Carly felt a snarl working its way into her voice. Sara simply wasn’t up to this. “Which part of what I just said don’t you understand?”
“All of it. Fetch your sister.”
“You are an arrogant bastard, aren’t you?” Carly said as she slammed the door in Adam’s face. The double-barrel lock shot home. A second later she was in the garage.
“Where’s Nellie?” Sara asked.
“It wasn’t Nellie. It was Adam Lord. I slammed the door in his face. He’s just as arrogant as he looked on television. He demanded to see you, saying it was about Billy Sweet. He looked like he was lying. He literally demanded I fetch you. Fetch you. Those are his exact words. Listen. You can hear him ringing the doorbell. That means he’s still out there. He’s got balls.”
“Maybe I should talk to him and get it over with.”
“Absolutely not. The guy is a barracuda. You’re too vulnerable now to deal with someone like him. He’s the kind of guy who would chew you up and spit you out. He’ll give up sooner or later.”
“Does that mean we aren’t going for the tree?”
“Well . . . ”
“I know you mean well. I am not as vulnerable as you think. I’ll talk to him, then we’ll go for the tree. We knew he would show up eventually. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“What about the song? What if he asks about it?”
“The song is none of his business. I won’t discuss it.”
“That means you’re going to lie.”
“Yes, that means I will lie,” Sara said matter-of-factly.
“Attagirl,” Carly said, thumping her sister’s back. “He’s slick, Sara. Stay alert. Now, aren’t you glad you put concealer under your eyes?”
“Open the door, Carly.”
Carly opened the door. Sara stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Killian. My sister said you wanted to speak with me about Mr. Sweet. I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t discuss Mr. Sweet with you, but I think you already know that. What is it you want, Mr. Lord?”
“I’d like to talk to you about my brother Dallas.”
Carly suddenly squealed. “Someone is taking pictures. Look at all those people! I told you this would happen.” For the second time in one night, Carly slammed the door in Adam Lord’s face.
Both women raced up the steps to Sara’s bedroom, where they ran to the window to view the commotion down below. “Those rag people know about you now, Sara. They’re going to talk to the neighbors, the butc
her, the cleaner, the dentist. They’ll go through our trash. They’re animals. They’ll make a big thing out of the fact that your contract wasn’t renewed. You’ll never get a job now. Hospitals hate this kind of publicity. We’ll have to close the house and move. We might even have to sell the house. We’ll have to hide for the rest of our lives. We won’t be able to work. Who’s going to pay our bills?”
“We’re not hiding from anyone,” Sara said. “If any of those things happen, and we can’t get jobs, then we’ll be forced to sell the song. See, there’s a solution to everything if you think things through. Now, do you want to go for the tree or not?”
Carly grinned at the sudden spark in her sister’s eyes. “Damn tootin’ I do. Let’s go.”
“Okay, now this is how we handle it. We make no comment. Let them take all the pictures they want. If we don’t say anything, they can’t quote us. When we get home, we’ll pull the drapes, build a fire, and put up the tree. I was going to marry him, Carly. I figured it all out today. Do you know how I know? I picked up my wedding suit. I even picked up my shoes. I paid for them. The song has been bothering me. It was a gift. That means it’s mine. We joked about it being a wedding gift. It wasn’t. The private hospital was supposed to be my wedding present. I could give it back I suppose. But, if I did that, then my relationship with Dallas meant nothing. It meant something to me, Carly. It meant a lot. Dallas was a giver in every sense of the word. Writing and giving me that song was very important to him. I’m not giving it up. Does all this make you feel better?”
Sara's Song Page 19
