Dying for Mercy with Bonus Material

by Mary Jane Clark

  “Nonsense,” said Valentina.

  “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear that,” said Peter.

  “I’m puzzled, though, Peter. I knew that things had been strained between Innis and you since we came back from Italy, but Innis wouldn’t tell me why. Do you know why, Peter?”

  “I have some idea, Valentina,” said Peter, “but it really isn’t anything I want to talk about or anything that Innis would want you to be involved with. You’ll just have to trust me on that.”

  “All right,” said Valentina. “But it would make me very happy if you would serve as an honorary pallbearer at the funeral tomorrow. However things ended up, you and Innis still shared so many triumphs in the past. And when this is all over, I want you to talk to Rusty about his future. Impress on him that he has to fly right if he ever plans to be elected to anything. With Innis gone, I hope I can count on you to be a male influence for my son.”

  “I’m flattered,” responded Peter. “And believe me, I’ll do all I can to make sure Rusty gets to where he should go.”

  Valentina hung up the phone.

  Something was wrong. Something was definitely very wrong.

  Eunice would never have left Valentina alone to deal with the neighbors who were stopping by to pay their respects.

  During a lull in the stream of visitors, Valentina had been able to make important phone calls, and the time had slipped by. She’d been preoccupied, but now a feeling of dread washed over her.

  Valentina opened the door, switched on the light, and looked down the steps.

  “Oh, my God, no!” she cried as she rushed down the staircase.

  CHAPTER 39

  The walls of Zack Underwood’s office were decorated with old architectural renderings along with a diploma from Pratt, a Historic Preservation Prize, and a certificate citing Zack as a finalist for the Cooper-Hewitt Architecture Design Award. Zack knew he could find a position with just about any of the most prestigious architectural firms in Manhattan, but he preferred to work for himself. For the most part, he liked working by himself, too.

  Standing at his large drafting table, Zack spread the plans for Pentimento before him. After the completion of every job, Zack made sure that pictures were taken of the finished product. The photos were carefully arranged in books that could be shown to future clients who would be interested in seeing samples of his work. Going to the case, Zack took down the bright turquoise album. The shade of blue reminded him of the waters of the Mediterranean, and that’s why he chose it for the photos of Pentimento. Zack began turning the pages.

  The images of the expansive double parlor were particularly impressive. Zack managed a slight smile when he thought of how enthusiastic Innis had been when the special quarter-sawn Tuscan walnut had arrived from Italy to replace the old flooring that was too warped to be refinished. And when that same container had brought the carved blocks that Innis planned to have as part of the decoration on the fireplace, he’d been almost gleeful. Zack hadn’t had the heart to tell Innis that having “ROMA” inscribed on the mantelpiece did nothing at all for him.

  Zack winced when he got to the pictures that had been shot at the greenhouse. Innis had taken such an interest in the place where he would grow his beloved orchids and other beautiful plants. Sighing deeply, Zack thought it a shame that such a delightful living space would be forever linked with death.

  He was about to close the book when he noticed it. The terra-cotta pot with the numbers on the side was positioned on the floor near the potting table. Zack had never cared for that pot, feeling that the bold black numbers on the side were jarring, standing out too much and not in keeping with the soft hues throughout the rest of the space. He had moved the pot to a less conspicuous place, shoving it beneath one of the long benches covered with plants. Innis had been almost apoplectic when he came into the greenhouse and noticed that pot was gone and had insisted that it be repositioned right where it had been before. Zack had shrugged and accepted it as just another one of Innis’s peculiar preferences.

  But now, as he took a magnifying glass out of his desk drawer to get a better look, Zack wondered if the pot and its black numbers could have some sort of significance.

  WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 7

  CHAPTER 40

  Reporters, producers, and camera crews were staked out in front of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church, anticipating the arrival of the hearse carrying the mortal remains of Innis Wheelock. While waiting, they made sure that video was taken as the funeral attendees entered the church. Most of the faces were not immediately recognizable, but the current governors of New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut arrived with their spouses. The mayor of New York City came, and a large Secret Service contingent escorted a former president of the United States and his First Lady.

  The church was located in the village of Tuxedo, outside the gates of Tuxedo Park and open to the public. The local population, cordoned off by police, watched the activity from the other side of the road. Bill O’Shaughnessy stood behind a wooden barricade, aware his time was limited. He had to get back to the Black Tie Club, where he was scheduled to tend bar at the repast following the funeral.

  Moira’s funeral had been in the same church just six months before. It was a much simpler funeral, but Bill had been touched by the people who’d attended. Most were friends that Moira and he had known for many years, people from the area but not from the park. Like Bill, many of them made their living working for the park’s residents, but at the end of the day they left the private enclave to eat and sleep in their more modest dwellings outside the gates. There was a decided divide and sometimes tension between the parkies and the townies.

  Few members of the Black Tie Club, people he had served for years, had bothered attending Moira’s funeral. Bill hadn’t really been all that surprised, but he had been hurt. The hurt turned to anger and resentment when he let himself think about the request he’d made a few years before her death.

  When Bill celebrated his twenty-fifth anniversary as a club employee, he was asked what he would like as a gift. He responded without hesitation. His wife had always wanted to come and take a tour of the club, have a cocktail on the stone terrace overlooking Tuxedo Lake, maybe have dinner in the dining room. That’s what he most wanted to mark his quarter-century of service.

  The request was denied.

  CHAPTER 41

  Even without an invitation, Susannah was determined to attend Innis Wheelock’s funeral. She stood to the side and waited. When she saw a group approaching the church, she joined them, slipping by unnoticed as the overwhelmed usher busily checked his list. She took a seat in a pew toward the back.

  Pulling the skirt of her dark knit suit over her knees, Susannah surveyed the scene. The church was filling with familiar faces from both the Tuxedo Park community and from the larger world outside the gates as well. Susannah noticed a few women look her way, but when she nodded and smiled at them, they averted their eyes. They knew she had been denied membership to the Black Tie Club, but if Innis was true to his word, he had never made public why he’d black-balled the Lansings. With Innis no longer around, Susannah felt secure. He could never reveal what he’d seen.

  Those women had made up their minds about her, but Susannah believed she could win them over—if she won over Valentina Wheelock first. The event she had organized for the mentally handicapped was the first step. Surely when they saw that she was trying to do good work, they would come to change their opinions of her.

  Already the planning had benefited her. When she’d written to Valentina Wheelock and explained her desire to host a local Special Olympics–like event and needed help with the venue, Valentina had agreed to sponsor and hold the games at the tennis house. Just the response Susannah had been hoping for. Eliza Blake’s promise to attend had been a bonus. Susannah was certain that having the celebrity there was ensuring a bigger turnout.

  Appealing to Valentina’s generosity had been a gamble. Either Valentina hadn’t m
entioned Susannah’s event to Innis or Innis hadn’t wanted to quash such a worthy cause just because it was being organized by a woman he’d caught shoplifting.

  Watching people take their seats in the church, Susannah felt her face grow warm as she recalled the instant she knew that Innis had seen her. She’d just stopped at a nearby convenience store to pick up some milk and bread. While she stood in line to pay for them, she’d taken a pack of gum and a candy bar from the display beneath the counter and slipped them into her purse. When she looked up again, she saw Innis staring at her.

  The lift she usually got from stealing something undetected was replaced with mortification. Getting something for nothing was like giving herself a reward. It didn’t matter how valuable the thing was—or wasn’t; the act itself just made her feel better, a momentary relief from the anxiety she often suffered.

  Innis’s facial expression told her all she needed to know. She’d ruined her family’s club-membership chances over a pack of gum and a Milky Way.

  But now it seemed that Innis hadn’t mentioned the incident to Valentina. Susannah said a prayer of thanks for that.

  She also prayed that Valentina would still attend on Sunday afternoon. Valentina’s attendance, despite her husband’s death, could be interpreted as a signal that she didn’t necessarily agree with Innis’s decision to bar the Lansings from membership.

  With Innis Wheelock no longer blocking the way, there was hope. And Susannah was going to do anything else she could to get into Valentina’s good graces.

  CHAPTER 42

  It’s going to be okay, Mother,” said Russell, patting her hand as they sat in back of the limousine. “It will all be over soon.”

  Valentina nervously pulled at the skirt of her tailored black suit and looked out the window. “This will be over,” she said, gesturing at the people entering the church and assembled outside. “But what will life be like without your father? And now to have lost Eunice, too…” Her voice trailed off as she reached out and touched her son’s cheek.

  As the rear door was opened by the driver, Valentina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and climbed out of the car.

  Mother and son waited together in the church vestibule while the casket was unloaded from the hearse and carried inside by the funeral home’s pallbearers. After the coffin was placed on the trolley, the honorary pallbearers lined up alongside the casket to escort Innis Wheelock’s body to the altar.

  As she stood with the rest of the assembly, Eliza recognized all four of the men coming up the church aisle. She had been introduced to three of them at the party. The fourth was the police officer who’d insisted she stop taking pictures inside the greenhouse.

  Fitzroy Heavener, his face pale and eyes downcast, looked grief-stricken as he walked slowly alongside the coffin carrying his dear and longtime friend. Zack Underwood, the Wheelocks’ architect for Pentimento, was solemn, his gaze focused straight ahead. Peter Nordstrut’s face was devoid of expression, but he cast furtive glances around the church, trying to see who else was there. Why was he chosen as a pallbearer? Eliza wondered. She’d gotten the impression that Innis didn’t like his political cohort very much at all.

  Following the casket, Valentina faltered slightly but was steadied by her son. He was a tall, handsome young man, with broad shoulders and auburn hair. Eliza recalled Valentina’s telling her that her baby had been born with soft red down on the top of his head and that she and Innis had immediately started calling him Rusty. They had decided the more formal Russell would be the name on the birth certificate—a name more fitting for the man of substance the Wheelocks expected their son to be.

  Watching the young man standing by his mother’s side and bracing her as they walked toward the altar, Eliza was so glad that Valentina had her son to comfort her now.

  Father Michael Gehry stood at the baptismal font in the center of the church, with the tall paschal candle to his left, waiting to greet the body of Innis Wheelock. After sprinkling the coffin with holy water and placing the white funeral pall over it, the priest led the procession up to the altar, his eyes welling with tears at the sound of St. Francis’s “Make Me a Channel of Your Peace.” Every funeral service he performed moved him, but this one was already affecting him profoundly.

  Father Gehry was absolutely sure that Innis had received God’s mercy. Innis was truly sorry for his sins, and he’d done penance for them. But for Innis that wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t believe that God had forgiven him, and he couldn’t forgive himself.

  The gruesome suicide had gotten a lot of coverage in the newspapers and on television. Father Gehry knew that there were still many people, even Catholics, who mistakenly believed that suicides forfeited their chance to have a church funeral. The church’s change in practice had been such a solace for the families and friends of those who took their own lives.

  As he reached the altar, Father Gehry was thinking about his homily, hoping he was in no way responsible for Innis’s death. “Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” Innis had ignored Christ’s invitation, but the priest prayed that the Gospel would bring Valentina—and himself—some comfort.

  CHAPTER 43

  His palms were clammy as he waited for his turn to speak. Fitzroy reached over and patted his chest to reassure himself that the remarks he’d written down were in the pocket of his suit jacket.

  After Communion, Father Gehry glanced his way. Fitzroy rose slowly, left the pew, and walked up to the lectern at the side of the altar. He made himself look out at the assembly, but, seeing all the faces, he quickly lowered his gaze and studied his speech. His hands gripped the sides of the pulpit as he began.

  “When I think of Innis Wheelock, I think of so many things. He was a faithful husband to Valentina and a wonderful father to Russell.” Fitzroy lifted his head, looked at Innis’s widow and son sitting in the front pew, and said, “And I’m sure I speak for all of us sitting here today when I extend our very deepest condolences for your immeasurable loss.”

  Valentina gave him a sad little smile. Russell studied the program in his lap.

  “Innis was a true friend to so many of us. I had the pleasure and privilege of enjoying his friendship longer than anyone else. We grew up together in the park, we went to school together, learned to play golf together, fished and sailed on Tuxedo Lake together. When Innis first noticed Valentina, he confided in me that he thought he’d met the girl of his dreams. I was best man at their wedding and was so flattered and touched when they asked me to be Russell’s godfather. With no children of our own, my wife, Unity, and I were thrilled when Innis and Valentina included us in family celebrations and holidays so we could experience the joy of watching their son grow up.

  “Much has been written about Innis and his political acumen and how he contributed his genius to Valentina’s stellar rise, so I won’t go into all that today. But his was a mind that assessed a situation quickly, set high goals, and reveled in the achievement of them. He enjoyed the challenge of a political race, was fascinated by current events, and worked tirelessly to understand the issues in our ever-changing world.”

  Fitzroy paused and gazed out at his audience, waiting until every person was looking his way. “Many of you know, of course, what gave Innis the most pleasure. On weekends he didn’t even look at the front page until he finished the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle. He waited all week for that thing to arrive and tossed the rest of the paper aside, going straight to the back of the magazine. He didn’t even get dressed until he’d finished the puzzle.”

  Everyone smiled; some even chuckled.

  “Innis loved puzzles. Any kind would do. Acrostics and jumbles, Scrabble and sudoku, Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot, labyrinths and scavenger hunts—you name it and Innis would be all over it. When he and Valentina were in Italy, Innis even got special permission to visit the Vatican’s Secret Archives. Mysteries delighted him. In fact, he once told me that figuring out the puzzles in people’s
personalities helped him with politics.”

  Fitzroy looked up again and noticed that some of the faces looking back at him wore expressions of concern and dismay. Did they think he would be insensitive enough to bring up the mystery of the stigmata? Of course he wasn’t that callous.

  “I was Innis’s closest friend, but clearly there were things he could not share with me. That puzzles me now as I try to make sense of what happened. But there was never any puzzle about my devotion to Innis. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him, and when Valentina asked me if I would say a few words today, I couldn’t refuse. It seemed somehow fitting, I think, that the person who knew him from the very beginning would be able to eulogize him at the very end. How fortunate I feel, how fortunate we all are, to have known a man like Innis Wheelock.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Leaving the dimness of the church, Eliza squinted as she came out into the bright sunshine. She could see B.J. and Annabelle across the parking lot, stationed with the other members of the media. She went over to talk with them.

  “How was it?” asked Annabelle.

  “It was a funeral,” said B.J. “How do you think it was?”

  Annabelle ignored him.

  “It was moving and sad,” said Eliza, “yet uplifting at the same time. The priest did a very nice job.”

  “What’s that in your hand?” asked B.J.

  Eliza held up a small holy card. On the front was an image of the Giotto fresco of St. Francis talking to the birds, and on the back were stanzas from the saint’s Canticle of the Sun. “I’m going to keep this,” Eliza said as she slipped the card into her purse.