by Leo Bonanno
“Angry about what?”
“I think about Donald and Cheryl. Richard is one of the most caring people I’ve ever known in my life, though to his father, he only exists when he’s the only other person in the house. Like I told you, Donald and Cheryl go at it with their Dad at least three times a week. Donald and his failing restaurant, Cheryl and that young man she wants to marry. Richard hated to see them fight and he hated his father for the way he ran this house. Outside those gates, it’s the great land of liberty. Inside, this is nothing but a pretty dictatorship.
“So, he said he was upset and he wanted to give his old man a piece of his mind. He helped me down the stairs the rest of the way, led me into bed and shut the door behind him as he left. By the time I was back in bed, it was probably close to 1:15 or 1:20. I was moving pretty slow down those stairs, and Richard’s story was a little longer than what I just ran through. Either way, I must have gotten back in after you already fell asleep. Satisfied?” We sat looking at each other. What was I to say? Sure Maddie, I’m feelin’ fine. You just incriminated a young man who is like family to us. Thanks for kicking this day up another notch on the Crap-o-Meter.
“Yes and no.”
“Oh, Reevan…what are we going to do? We can’t tell Walters. He’ll arrest Richard. He may have been angry, but he couldn’t have killed his father, right? No, he couldn’t have. What should we do?” She sobbed into my shoulder. I didn’t know what to do, but we couldn’t sit on that much information forever. One of the others could have heard Maddie and Richard’s conversation the night before. Nona was still in the kitchen. It was only a matter of time before she remembered and squealed like a stuck pig.
“We will tell Walters, but not now. I want to go speak with Richard myself.”
“What if he did it, Reevan?”
“We can’t think that way, Maddie. Stay in here for a little while and calm down. I’ll go talk to Richard and meet up with you later. We’ll get to the bottom of this Maddie, I promise. And I’m sorry for hurting your feelings before. I just had to know the truth.” Maddie nodded and brushed her tears away. I got up and headed for the door.
“Where could Donald be?” She called out to me. “I’m worried.”
“He’s probably lying low at his restaurant sleeping off some of the booze. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. You just take care of yourself for now,” I said.
“Make sure Cheryl is okay too, will you?” I nodded and left.
When I shut Maddie’s door, the mysterious grandfather clock called out the one o’clock hour. I headed up the stairs to see two of the three remaining McCunes.
Before I knocked on Richard’s door, I pressed my ear to it. Sniffles and whispers floated around the room behind it, and for a split second, a feeling of perhaps this isn’t the best time swept over me. It was gone as fast as it had come, and I knocked three times. A blubbering “Come in!” screamed at me, and so I did. I couldn’t tell by all the crying who had actually invited me in, but I guess it didn’t matter.
Little brother and big sister sat hugging each other on the Richard’s bed. I walked inside after shutting the door. “Take a seat,” Richard said and pointed to the desk and chair behind me. The desk and chair were both covered in mountains of paperwork, but it was far from messy. Richard was an accountant by then. In fact, the bed was the only non-accounting related piece of matter in the room. Several calculators littered the desk and table tops. Books on tax laws and other financial topics filled a bookshelf on the far wall. Two filing cabinets stood, sentry-like, next to the door through which I had just entered. Richard had taken me to see his office downtown once during my last visits. I honestly don’t know why he even bothered renting an office. It looked like he took care of all of his business from his gigantic bedroom.
I grabbed the small pile of papers sitting on the chair and carefully shifted them to the floor. I wheeled the chair around and sat in it, looking into four very sad eyes.
“Richard, I’d like to speak to you in private if that’s okay.” He looked at Cheryl and she nodded. She hugged him tight and got up. She opened the door and then turned back to us.
“Mr. Hunt? If you don’t mind, could you please join me in my room after you’re done?”
“Of course,” I said, feeling like the live-in shrink. She smiled somewhere underneath the tears and frizzy hair and left. I turned back to Richard.
Though we were both sitting, his broad shoulders made him seem like he was hovering over the bed. It was unsettling to see such a man cry, yet there it was. “I spoke with Maddie just now. Is there something you’d like to tell me, Richard?” He brushed the tears away with the backs of his hands. The sobs tapered off.
“Like what?”
“Well, like how you were feeling last night about one in the morning.”
“Ah,” he said. “So she told you.”
“There isn’t much Maddie or I can keep from each other for long,” I said. “Talk to me, Richard.”
“I was angry,” he finally admitted. “Damn angry.”
“At your father?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” Richard’s eyes said he knew the answer, but his mouth didn’t know how to form the words right away. He spoke slowly.
“Because…because of the way he is. Because of the way he treated us, all of us.”
“You mean you and Cheryl and Donald?”
“Not just us, but the others too. Nona and Thomas and all the rest. He said they were all lazy good-for-nothings who had to be kept in line. People here seem to have it good from outside that gate. Those people out there have no idea what it’s like in here. Sure, you go downtown to The Rust Bucket and get your drinks on the house because your father is The Man. Or maybe you want your nails done, or your hair done, or you want a massage. That’s okay too, because your dad is The Man. But what do you do when The Man threatens to pull the plug on the essentials unless you did it all his way? What do you do, Reevan?” He was speaking incoherently. I couldn’t follow him from one sentence to the next. It was like his mouth was vomiting every thought that was in his head.
“Richard, slow down. What do you mean?”
“He had us, Reevan. Dad owned all of us. What were we supposed to do?” A familiar voice echoed in my head. What will we do, Thomas? Where will we go? We’ve been here so long…what will we do? “Don’t you get it? None of us could leave, Reevan. We’re like prisoners, even still now that he’s dead. Dad owned more than half of Donald’s restaurant, a lot more than half. He scared Cheryl into staying by threatening her with poverty for the rest of her life.”
“And you,” I asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“All of my business is in this town, and dad was the one thing holding it all together. Without Wilson McCune, I’d go belly up. Dad was just a mean, selfish old man with too much money. Sills was right…we are all suspects.”
It began to make sense. Wilson was a rich, powerful man, but he was also old and enfeebled. With Clara gone, he must have started wondering what would happen if his kids got too brave, got too successful, or got too married, and left him. Wilson was brazen and tough, and the only way to keep that up into your seventies was to keep folks around who supported the image. Richard was right; they were hostages. With one stroke of his pen Wilson McCune could have ruined all of his children, and so they stayed to live the life he carved out, because it was better than nothing.
Well, it used to be better. Apparently someone in this house had had enough.
“So, what now?”
“Well, I guess we’ll get our inheritance. He never threatened to screw us over unless we crossed him. Donald will probably get control of his restaurant. Cheryl may be able to marry that Norville guy as long as dad didn’t stipulate that Cheryl only gets her money if she steers clear of him. Whatever she chooses, she’ll either marry a rich man or become a very rich single woman. As for me, I honestly don’t know. I would like to stay here, in this town at least, although who knows wha
t’ll happen after word gets out. No one wants to have their taxes done by a murderer, you know? And those that don’t leave because of that will probably just say ‘hey, your daddy is dead, and you don’t scare us anymore.’”
“I don’t think that’ll happen, Richard. You’re good at what you do and people know it. You’ll be fine.” I realized that I was promising him a happy life before I even got last night’s story out of him. I had to know, and I was tired of stalling. “I want to know about last night, Richard. What did you do after you got Maddie to bed?”
“Well,” he said with a sigh as he stared at his toes, “I started towards dad’s room but stopped before I got to the kitchen. Nona was inside cleaning, I guess. I realized I had just blown off most of my steam when I told Maddie what I just told you. Plus, I didn’t want to go over it all again with Nona if she asked me what I was doing up. So, I turned around and came up the main staircase and back to bed. That was that.” I sat there, scratching my chin for a moment. Richard’s situation had come to a tidy abrupt halt last night, and I wondered if I could accept that as the truth. I decided I would, at least temporarily, and got up. Richard got up with me and hugged me. I patted his back and then headed for the door.
I stood there, door knob in hand, thinking about what Richard had just said about how Wilson kept the people here so long they didn’t want to leave or were too scared to follow through with it. I was a little confused in the cases of Nona and Thomas. “Richard? How have the others been living here? Nona, I mean, and Thomas?” Richard smirked.
“I wouldn’t bet they’ve been very happy at all. Those two and Maddie got the brunt of everything dad had to give. Only Maddie had the guts to give it back to him the last few years. I think he kept her around because she reminded him of my mother. Whatever the reason for keeping her, he was constantly threatening to throw Thomas and Nona out on their asses.”
“Why would either of them be threatened at all? They’re both adults, and they’ve been here for a long time. Surely they each have enough money piled away to get places of their own and start real lives. There must be other people in this country who need a cook and a butler. Hell, they could work in Donald’s restaurant as a chef and waiter if they had to, right?”
“I doubt it, Reevan. As long as dad was around, those two weren’t going anywhere. He’s blackballed employees before. No, there only chance was to stay here and keep him as happy as possible until he…” he trailed off, then looked at his shoes.
How odd? I thought to myself. What could keep two adults hostage in this glittering prison? What could scare them so much that they would stay to do a nasty old man’s bidding for the rest of his life?
With that, I left. I did want to speak with Maddie about those two right away. I started down the stairs but only made it two or three steps before I heard Cheryl call my name. I turned and looked towards her room, which was further down the hall from Richard’s. I had forgotten all about her and rushed back up, watching her wiggle her finger. The sooner I was done giving her a shoulder on which to cry, the sooner I’d get back to Maddie.
I reached Cheryl’s room and went in. I sat on her bed and watched her shut the door. She looked up and down the hallway a few times before she did. When she turned around to look at me, I realized she had probably stopped crying when she left Richard’s room. She looked more nervous than sad.
She was still in her pajamas. Her robe twirled around as she moved gracefully around her room. She finally sat next to me and looked into my eyes. Her eyes told me that she was in tune with everything in that house. She looked stoic, just as Maddie had looked a while before, but still nervous underneath. She was about to spill the beans, and I would be happy to scoop them up. “I have to tell someone or else I’ll explode. I can’t take it anymore.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it happened last night after I left you and Nona in the kitchen.” Just then, the keenness in her eyes disappeared and was replaced with an expression of untainted disbelief.
“A little after one-thirty last night, I heard Donald come home. I ran downstairs to meet him at the door. First I made sure he was okay. Then I yelled at him for making us all worry. He said he was sorry, and I caught a whiff of his breath. I nearly hit the floor.
“I walked him to the kitchen and got him some water. He started mumbling and raising his voice, which I’m sure you heard. I calmed him down and asked him what he was trying to say. He said he had been thinking a lot about daddy. Said he was going to force daddy to come to that big event he planned. You remember, the one with all of dad’s friends and the other blue-bloods? He said he’d pull the batteries right out of dad’s chair and push him up the road to the restaurant if he had too. I kept trying to calm him down. He kept going on and on about how dad can’t do this and he shouldn’t do that; it was all I could do to get him into his room.
“I finally got him up the stairs and into his bed. I pulled off his shirt and shoes and he started to doze off as soon as his head hit the pillow. But he…he…” She began to get teary eyed and trail off. I pulled her back abruptly.
“But what?”
“He said he was tired of dad running our lives. He said he knew what he had to do.” I sat next to Cheryl for what felt like eternity. My mouth went dry, and my head started to pound and tingle. Cheryl had just told me what could be summed up as her brother’s confession, or motive, or state of mind or whatever a district attorney felt like calling it. Bottom line: Donald McCune was better off not coming home.
“Were those his exact words?”
“Yes, if you leave out all of the swears. He was so angry and so drunk. He could have done anything last night. After I left him, I went back to my room. A few minutes later, I heard his door open and I heard him walk by. I thought maybe he was going to the bathroom or to get some more water. He was probably hungry too. Anyway, I thought all of that talk was just him blowing off the booze. I figured I’d find him this morning somewhere with his head in his arms. This morning, I went right into his room to see him, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the kitchen either. And dad was dead.”
I left Cheryl with a promise that I would not tell anyone anything until I was completely sure of Donald’s situation. She stood with me and kissed me on the cheek. She thanked me for listening. I looked towards her night stand attempting to see the clock that sat there, but an uneaten sandwich lay blocking my view. I grabbed her right hand in mine and rubbed the back of it, trying to comfort her, telling her that booze can make even the brightest men awfully loud and stupid.
Of course, the first thing I did when I shut the door was run towards the staircase, wanting to speak with Maddie. I was still at the top of the stairs when I noticed Thomas Freely and Nona Bronson walking across the large foyer from the direction of the dining room. Thomas was holding something. Something small and shiny. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, but I could’ve sworn it was a small crystal penguin.
I stood at the top of the stairs, frozen, watching them stroll none the wiser. Nona suddenly turned and came towards me, towards the stairs. “Oh, Nona, hi,” I blurted in surprise. I plastered a phony smile across my face and headed down the stairs. As I did, Thomas quickly shoved his shiny trinket into his pocket and hastened past the staircase, not saying a word.
Before I left the last step, there was a knock at the front door. I looked around for Maddie or Thomas, but didn’t see either of them. “Door,” I said loudly to the empty foyer. I heard my voice reverberate off the walls, but there was no reply. The person knocked again, louder this time. “Door, damn it!” I barked, knowing full well Thomas was somewhere in earshot and choosing to ignore me. I eventually gave up, headed for the door and yanked it open. Richard and Cheryl had come out of their rooms and were standing at the top of the stairs. Maddie appeared to my right. Cheryl and Richard screamed Donald’s name, and Maddie rushed towards the sunlight that flooded the foyer and the man standing inside it. Thomas and Nona came running out of the kitchen.<
br />
Donald stepped in looking weary and recently sober. “I lost my keys,” he said, and then he was surrounded. Over the chatter and the footsteps and the sobs, the mysterious grandfather clock struck three in the afternoon.
While the others accosted Donald in the doorway, I grabbed a hold of Maddie’s arm and tugged her into her room. For the first time that day, she looked somewhat happy. She seemed so worried earlier, but when I got a look at her then, the color had rushed back into her face. “What do you want, Reevan? Donald is home. I have to make sure he’s alright.” She started for her bedroom door, but I stuck out my hand. She stopped where she stood.
“He’s fine Maddie, trust me.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“I…well…I needed to ask you something. Something about Richard.” The corners of her mouth drooped.
“Now listen, I told you the truth and I don’t care what-”
“No, no. Not about that. Richard told me the same story you did. I know it’s the truth as far as you’re concerned. I want to ask you something else.”
“About what?”
“About Nona Bronson and Thomas Freely.”
“What about them?” She asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
“Thomas said something funny last night that I just remembered. I accidentally overheard the argument that Cheryl and Wilson were having last night in his study. Thomas caught me there listening and said eavesdropping must run in our family. What was he talking about?” The question materialized in my head mere milliseconds before the words flew out. Seeing them all there in the foyer together made me wonder what other secrets were lurking in the corners of McCune Hall.
Maddie was stunned. She seemed unable to answer. “I have no idea what he meant.” She was lying. We both knew it.
“Oh please, you know you can’t lie to me, Maddie, especially today of all days. Spit it out. It was you he was talking about, wasn’t it? You overheard something you shouldn’t have, didn’t you?” She had been caught be refused to give in, like a bear freshly snared in a trap.
