by Lee Hanson
“Phew!” said Joan, as Pete, the last to leave, went out through the garage door, mobile-coffee-cup in hand. “What a zoo, huh?”
“They could use you at Starbucks,” said Julie, waving goodbye to Pete as she entered the kitchen from the garage.
She had just come in from walking Paul and Pete, Jr. out front to the street. She had carried her coffee with her. Warming her hands on the mug, she had leaned against the Malibu and watched the boys as they walked down the steep little hill to their bus stop at the bottom. Julie could see the river through the trees, sparkling in the sun. When the school bus picked up the boys, she’d gone back in the house.
Now the two women settled down in peace at the kitchen table.
“It’s so good to see you, Julie. I’ve thought of you so much over the years.”
“I should have called,” said Julie, looking down at the table. “I’m sorry, Joannie. There’s really no excuse. In the beginning, after Dan died…”
“Julie, it’s all right,” said Joan, interrupting. “I understand. You don’t have to explain anything.”
“No. I want to,” said Julie. “It’s time I did.” She took a breath and continued.
“After Dan died, I couldn’t bear to see anybody or talk about it. I couldn’t face his family, our friends. If Marc hadn’t been so dogged…so persistent…I probably would have cut him off, too. Over time…well…it was just easier to keep it that way.
“The truth is…I’m responsible for Dan’s death.”
“But that’s absurd, Julie! From what I know, you nearly drowned yourself trying to save him!”
“No. Dan drowned because I didn’t get to him fast enough.” To Julie’s chagrin, a tear spilled over and ran down her cheek.
Joan reached across the table with some napkins, and took her hand. “Honey, here… listen to me. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was…it was,” said Julie, sniffing.
“Sh-h, now,” said Joan. “Something you should know, Julie. I’ve been to that island.”
Julie looked at her, surprised.
“That’s right. It was after you moved to Florida. Milt and Miriam offered it to Pete and me for our honeymoon. The fact is we were broke, so we took it gladly.
“Anyhow, what you need to know is that we rode over to the eastern shore. We stood on that very point! And I’m telling you, Hon, we could see that rip current clearly. Pete threw a branch in, and it took it out in a flash! It’s a wonder you didn’t die, too, jumping in there after him like that.”
“I dove in right away, but I didn’t swim, Joan. That’s what I did wrong: I didn’t swim. The current was so fast; it seemed faster than I could swim. I thought it would take me to him, but it was moving Dan at the same speed! I should have been swimming as strong as I could, like walking fast on the moving walkway at the airport. I did the wrong thing.”
“Julie…honey…how could you possibly have known what to do? It was a freak situation, a split second decision. Besides, have you ever considered the possibility that Dan drowned before you ever dove into the water?”
It was a simple thought:
Dan was dead the whole time.
Julie had suppressed that horrible, simple thought during her rescue attempt. Afterward, she had blocked it to make sense of her foolhardy action. It was crystal clear now that she had run away from anyone who might make her face the truth about it. But time had done its job. In fact, Julie felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Julie?”
“Yes,” she said. “You’re right, Joan. Dan was probably dead when he washed out of that cave. I just couldn’t face that years ago. You’re a good friend. Thank you for being so direct.”
Okay, enough, thought Julie, emotionally spent. I can’t talk about this anymore. With a final sigh, she squeezed Joan’s hand and changed the subject. “I apologize for my absence all these years, Joannie. I promise to be a much better friend in the future. Speaking of the future, have you guys decided where the boys are going to school? Are you thinking U-Mass, Boston College, or what?”
Her awkward segue worked.
The two of them went on to talk about the boys and the University of Massachusetts, about local politics and tennis. Their conversation was easy and enjoyable. The years melted away.
All too soon, it was time for Julie to leave. She wanted to get checked into the Marriott Long Wharf in Boston before noon. Her plan was to see Matt Castle shortly after that and she didn’t want to miss him.
Joan walked her to her car and they hugged.
Julie turned the ignition, waved to her friend, and released the emergency brake.
The Malibu started forward…too fast. Julie put her foot on the brake and it went all the way to the floor. She stamped on it, futilely.
What the hell?!
The car hurtled down the steep hill, headed straight for the river.
* * * * *
Chapter 24
Instinctively, Julie slammed on the emergency brake and pushed the automatic gearshift to Park. She yanked the steering wheel hard to the left and held it there. In a matter of seconds, the car had reached the two lane road and done a one-eighty to the left before slamming to a stop, rear-end facing the river.
In shock and trying to catch her breath, Julie closed her eyes and dropped her head on her arms, slumped over the steering wheel. Mere moments later, she lifted her head and looked out her window.
There was a car heading right for her.
Shit, shit, SHIT!
She saw the driver’s panicked face and heard the squeal of his brakes. She closed her eyes tight, bracing and holding her breath, expecting the broadside impact…
It didn’t happen! The man had stopped the car a few inches from her door! The older driver was looking at her, agape, relief written all over his face. Julie exhaled like the governor just called off her execution.
Thank you, God! Thank you!
She heard another screech as a second hapless motorist just missed hitting the old man. Unable to open the driver’s side door, she slid to the right and jumped out of the Malibu.
Joan Soldano had watched the accident in horror, running down the hill after the runaway car. Now, she darted across the road. “Ohmigod, ohmigod! Julie! Are you all right?!”
“I’m okay! The brakes are gone!”
The white-haired, bespectacled old man that had almost T-boned Julie had gotten out of his car. “Are you okay, Miss?”
“Yes, thank God. Are you?”
“Yes, I’m just glad I was able to stop!”
•
The back end of Julie’s car had knocked down a section of the low stone wall edging the river bank and smacked into a tree directly behind it. The rear end was caved in and two tires were blown.
Julie saw a police car, weaving through the traffic, heading in her direction. She realized then that she had to get the Malibu off the narrow road as quickly as possible. The car was only partially blocking the northbound lane and people were slowing down and going around it. But behind the older man’s car, the traffic was stacking up. She dug out her cell phone and her rental contract and called Hertz.
Once the report was made and the car towed away, Julie followed Joan back up Drake Hill to the house. The plan was for Joan to drive her to the local Hertz office for a replacement. Pausing by the front walk to rest from tugging her carry-on up the hill, she happened to glance down at the small bag. The wheels had left two short, dark stripes on the pavement leading to a tiny iridescent pool.
A puddle of brake fluid.
* * * * *
Chapter 25
Given that she was still alive and breathing, Julie decided not to press her luck by asking God for a parking space. She left the new rental - a Camry - at the Marriott, and walked up State Street for her one-thirty appointment with Matt Castle.
Entering the lobby of the building, Julie noticed that the law firm was the only occupant of the top floor. She took the elevator u
p and stepped out into a large reception area. It was designed to impress: large oriental carpets atop highly polished hardwood floors and Old English mahogany furniture. There was a gold sign on the wall facing the elevator:
CONNOR, CASTLE & MANN
A dignified older woman sat at a desk to the right. She smiled as Julie approached. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”
“Yes. I’m Julie O’Hara. I’m here to see Mr. Castle. I have an appointment.”
The woman glanced at her computer.
“Oh, yes, Ms. O’Hara,” she said. “Mr. Castle is expecting you. Would you have a seat? I’ll let him know that you’re here. Please help yourself to the coffee over there.”
Julie passed on the coffee; she was jittery enough from her ‘accident’ in Salem.
Matt Castle came out to meet her almost immediately, and she remembered him from the funeral. He was a tall man in a dark gray pinstriped suit with an impeccable shirt and tie. His hair was turning gray at the temples which gave him a solid, patrician air. He welcomed her warmly.
“Ms. O’Hara?” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Matthew Castle. Please call me Matt. It’s a pleasure to finally meet Marc’s best friend, Merlin. He never ceased bragging about you.”
“Please, call me Julie,” she said, shaking his hand. “Marc was becoming so well known that I was the one bragging about being his friend. I know he cared a great deal for you, too, Matt. He spoke of you many times. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Come, let’s go to my office.”
Julie followed him down a hallway past smaller offices to a large, windowed corner suite. The overall impression was English Hunt Club: crimson leather on polished dark wood, oil landscapes and hunting prints. The walls were filled with law books and accreditation, family photos artfully interspersed.
Rather than sitting opposite her at his desk, he led her to a pair of club chairs.
“Julie. I’m going to be frank with you,” he said, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking a seat. “I’m deeply suspicious about my nephew’s death. Marc was not at all suicidal.”
Julie’s impression of Matt Castle as an ally was all but confirmed with those words.
“No, he wasn’t,” said Julie. “Marc and I discussed the subject once. He was emphatic about suicide being cowardly. He specifically said that it was cruel to loved ones who were left behind. He would never have taken his own life.”
“Do you think it could have been an accident?” asked Matt. “Did you know it was an injection?”
“I just learned that,” said Julie, “but I don’t know what it was.”
“They told me it was oxycodone.”
“Oxycodone? There’s no way this was an accident! I think Marc was murdered.”
“Yes,” said Matt, “so do I.”
They were quiet for a moment, the enormity of that sinking in.
“There’s something else, Matt. Someone tried to kill me this morning.”
His eyes widened in shock and concern.
Julie recounted her close call, in all its harrowing detail.
“Someone tampered with your brakes?”
“Yes. I’m certain of it. It was a new car; the brake pedal was high, tight. I drove the car for three days and the brakes worked fine.”
“Did you report it to the police?”
“Just an accident report, when the police showed up on the road. I didn’t see the brake fluid in front of Pete’s house until later.”
“Who do you think…?”
Aghast, his unfinished question hung in the air.
“It had to be someone who knew I was suspicious. Someone who knew exactly where I was staying, who knew where the Soldanos live in Salem. Someone who knew they had to act fast, because I wouldn’t be there long.” Julie paused, looking at Matt. “Let’s just say that Avram Solomon is at the top of my short list.”
“Why Avram?”
“Because I saw through his act and I think he knows it. I know he lies all the time, because he’s smooth. It takes practice to be a good liar. But there are always leaks: tiny facial movements, a gesture, the pitch of one’s voice, their pattern of speech. No one can control them all. Avram certainly wasn’t grieving, Matt. What’s more, I believe he’s hiding something.”
“Well, he’s capable of anything, in my opinion,” said Matt. “But as for Marc’s death…I know for a fact that Avram was here in Boston when it happened. It was the first thing I verified, Julie.”
She nodded.
“I know Marc hated him.”
She remembered her earlier conversation with Joan. “I was wondering about Castle Cay, Matt. Who owns the island?”
“Marc did. He inherited it from my sister, Miriam. He never used it. Since my sister died there in 1993, none of us have.”
He tilted his head in sympathy.
“I was sorry to hear about your husband, Julie.”
“Thank you. I was sorry about Miriam, too. I think that place is cursed.”
He nodded, and continued.
“Marc did, too. In fact, he wanted to sell it. He called me a few weeks ago and said he’d had a good offer from Holiday Cruise Lines for it. “
“What? He was seeking your advice about a sale? Of Castle Cay?”
“Yes. It was a large amount of money.”
“Can you tell me any more about it?” asked Julie. “It would help me if I knew what questions he had and what you advised him.”
Matt thought about it for a moment.
“I don’t see why not,” he said.
“Holiday offered $40 million for Castle Cay. Avram had called Marc to tell him. And, as you know, Marc never trusted Avram about anything. So, he called me. He said that Avram seemed very eager for him to sell, and he wondered why. I said that perhaps Avram was sick of managing the property, or he might have felt the money would be better invested elsewhere.”
“Do you know who the listing agent was?”
“Yes, I do. Wait a minute…”
He got up, went to his desk, and pulled out a piece of paper that was tucked under the clear mat.
“It was listed with Island World Realty. They’re in Miami. Marc said they specialized in islands and waterfront properties.”
“How did he find them?”
“I don’t think he did. I think Avram probably listed it.”
“But you said that Marc wanted to sell?”
“Yes. But, keep in mind, Marc hadn’t been there for years. He was thinking that perhaps he should go there again before deciding. On the other hand, he didn’t want to delay and lose the buyer. So that was the quandary.”
“What did you advise him?”
“It was a low offer. I told him not to rush into it! I said that if he felt he should go there first, then that’s what he should do. I don’t know if he went or not, though.”
“Have you talked to Avram Solomon about any of this?”
“No, I haven’t,” he said. “But I received a letter from him about Marc’s trust fund. It was to inform me that Avram, as trustee, was completing an inventory and that the trust would be ‘liquidated as soon as possible’. He said that when it was ready to close, he would ‘make distributions to all the beneficiaries’.”
“Who is the primary beneficiary?”
“I am,” he said, simply.
Surprised, Julie instantly assessed his body language. He had shrugged slightly and opened his hands toward her. There was no inconsistency in any of it. Matt Castle was an honest man, and one who was already quite wealthy.
“Any idea why Avram wanted the island sold?” she asked.
“No. But I’m a lot more suspicious about it now than I was.”
“There’s one last thing I want to ask you, Matt. It’s personal. I’ll understand if you’d rather not answer. Is it possible that Milton Solomon was not Marc’s father?”
Matt shifted and sighed. He leaned back in his chair. “There’s no point in keeping that secret any longer
, I guess. My partner, Tom Connor, is – was - Marc’s father. God knows he wanted to tell him! But he promised my sister years ago that he wouldn’t. The hell of it is, we had talked recently and he was planning to tell him. Now he’ll never have the chance.
“It was all because of my sister’s delusion about her sons bonding. Of course, Miriam never recognized Avram’s duplicity. She didn’t want to see it. No, it was her goal for them to be close. She thought it would only separate them more to know they had different fathers.”
“Joan Soldano mentioned that Miriam left everything to Marc?”
“Oh, no,” said Matt. “Miriam left an equal amount of money to her sons. The island was an additional bequest in Marc’s trust. And that was fair. At the time, you see, Milton was clearly putting Solomon Chrysler into Avram’s hands.
“Miriam saw Marc as being on ‘her side’ of the family. I don’t think she thought about the monetary value of Castle Cay at all. I don’t think she ever imagined the island being sold; her intent was simply to keep it in the Castle family.
“As for Marc’s trust fund, Miriam’s reasoning was that Avram was an accountant and he cared about the family money… where Marc clearly didn’t. In her mind, she was protecting Marc by appointing Avram trustee.
“It was a terrible idea. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen to a word I said. In the end, she and Milton went to another firm to draw up their estate plans. Of course, after Miriam died, we lost all of their business…but that was years ago.”
“Why was that?”
“Avram chose Cardenas and Shaw.”
“Where have I seen that name?”
“In the newspapers, perhaps. No doubt you’ve heard of their clients? The Tambini family here in Boston?”
Shit, thought Julie.
Up to my ankles.
•
Julie called the airport as she hurried back to the Marriott, reserving a seat on the eight o’clock flight to Miami. She also made a reservation there at the Holiday Inn. Then she went to her room, threw everything into her carry-on and headed for the door.
