Past Malice

by Dana Cameron

  I couldn’t quite suppress a feeling of dislike for him, but it was by following his gaze that I saw the scene before the rest of the heads swiveled around to catch it. The Bellamys were leaving, practically stumbling over each other in their rush to get away from the wake. Mr. Bellamy, who I remembered from one of his early morning complaints over the Chandler House fence, was sweating profusely despite the frigidity of the air conditioning. Claire was hyperventilating so that I thought she might be ill, but I saw her tighten her hold on her husband’s hand and shoot him a look of unadulterated joy as they fled the room.

  “A little premature for that, if you ask me,” said a voice behind me. I turned, but couldn’t see anyone I recognized. Apparently the sentiment was shared by most of those present.

  I tried to identify who was in the receiving line and saw only a lone gentleman in front of the closed casket shaking everyone’s hand. I would have thought that the Fiske family would have been larger, considering the number of people here. The crowd was dark in summer mourning, warm in spite of the air conditioning, and…wary. There were a great many bouquets near the casket, I saw, but in glancing at the cards, I realized that almost all of them were from organizations—the PBA, the city council, the Historical Society, that sort of thing—and none were from individuals. There was nothing on top of the closed coffin, where the family tributes usually sat, save for a bunch of daylilies, which bore no label at all. It was a strange choice of flowers, I thought.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said to the older man in the black suit, when it came to be my turn. “I worked with Aden at the Chandler House.”

  “Thank you for coming. The family asked me to let everyone know that there would be a brief ceremony following the viewing tonight.”

  “Oh, then you’re not—?”

  “I’m Elliott Amberson, the director here. The family asked me to represent them tonight.”

  “Oh.” I looked at him, but he didn’t offer any further explanation.

  “It will be a very brief service.”

  “Well, thanks.”

  I paused briefly in front of the closed casket and then moved along, but there was very little space for me to move into: The room was packed. That was why I could hear Honey hiss, “Fuck you, Aden. You got exactly what you deserved.”

  I knew I couldn’t have been the only one to have heard her, but perhaps it was shock that kept anyone near me from commenting or even gasping. Honey’s companion took her by the arm and all but dragged her out back the way we’d come in. I wedged myself into a tight space near the head of the coffin. With a nod from Mr. Amberson, a lectern was brought out for the clergyman, and the service began. It was immediately clear that the minister was no one who’d known Aden Fiske. After welcoming everyone, he ran down a list of Aden’s achievements in town, all on quite a grand scale, and launched into reading a few psalms. I looked around to see how the other mourners were taking this, and realized that no one seemed to be paying attention to the funeral. The eyes of almost everyone in that crowded room kept wandering, and every time someone moved near the door, he or she was watched like a hawk. There were more people looking around at the crowd then there were looking at the minister, and because of the odd emotion in the room, anxiety and fear and expectation, I was now among them, trying to figure out what was going on. From my vantage point, I could see that there were a lot of worried faces, a lot of unhappy faces, but no genuinely sad or grieving faces. There wasn’t a damp eye in the house and more than that, there was a palpable tension that seemed to increase as the minister wound his way through the last lines of the Twenty-third Psalm. When it became clear that he was finishing up his service, it was as though everyone in the room was holding his breath. I had to be the only one who didn’t seem to expect something else to happen, and when the funeral director again thanked us for coming on behalf of the Fiske family, there was a pause, everyone looked around at everyone else, and then there was a huge, almost communal sigh. Whatever had been expected had not come to pass, though I couldn’t have told you what everyone was anticipating.

  The room emptied as though a vacuum had been opened on the other side of the door. It worked out that Daniel, Charles, and I, coming from the two separate corners of the room, ended up next to each other near the end of the exodus.

  “Quite a turnout, wasn’t it?” Daniel said.

  “Yeah. Didn’t it all seem a little strange to you?” I asked.

  He paused. “All funerals are a little strange, I think,” he said finally.

  Charles snorted. “You must be new to the area,” he said, dismissing Daniel’s guarded comment.

  I nodded. “I am, at least to Stone Harbor.”

  Daniel sighed and shook his head at Charles, who rolled his eyes and turned away. “I think Charles was just trying to say that most people around here knew about the feud between Aden and his family. I think that was what you were picking up on.”

  “Oh yes?” It seemed apparent to me that the rest of the town was siding with Aden’s absent family.

  “Long time ago, details lost or distorted in the mists of time. Terribly unhappy man.”

  “Oh. Maybe that explains why he tried so hard with the people he worked with. You know, to be so…jovial.”

  Daniel gave me a hard look. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Good night, Emma.”

  “Good night, Daniel. Charles.”

  “Night, Emma.”

  As I headed back to my car, I could hear Daniel admonish Charles, who stood near the door flipping through the guest book. “Well, I think everyone in town would be interested to see who signed in, is all,” Charles retorted.

  I had my key in the lock when Daniel called out. “Emma, why don’t you join us? We’re going for a drink at the restaurant.”

  Curiosity got the better of me. “Sure. Which restaurant?”

  Charles laughed. “Why, the only restaurant!”

  I still didn’t understand.

  “Shade’s,” Daniel said. “See you there in a few minutes?”

  I waved and they took off. The street was almost empty by the time I got into my car, as if everyone else had fled. It had all happened so quickly that I was surprised that I hadn’t heard the squeal of rubber on asphalt. I got in and locked the door, glad to be getting away from the most unpleasant wake I’d ever been to.

  Chapter 18

  I PULLED UP TO SHADE’S AND PARKED, THEN CALLED Brian to tell him I’d be a little later than expected.

  “See?” I said to him. “Look at me using my phone and everything. All charged up, a real modern girl.”

  “I’m glad, that’s why we bought them. Take care, okay, babe?”

  “Sure. See you soon, sugar.”

  I hit the wrong button twice before I managed to turn the thing off.

  Daniel and Charles were already at the bar. Rich the bartender nodded at me. “Chardonnay?”

  “You’ve got a good memory. Actually, I’ll have a glass of the Rookhaven zinfandel.”

  He nodded and poured me a glass of the same dark wine my sister had ordered on Sunday night.

  Daniel nodded approvingly. “That’s a good label. We were out at their Sonoma vineyards, what was it Charles? Two years ago?”

  “That’s it. That was a wonderful trip.”

  “My husband’s from California,” I said, “but we almost never make it that far north. His folks are in San Diego.”

  “You must visit wine country, next time,” Charles said. He took a sip of his martini and fished out one of the olives. “You’ll love it.”

  “I don’t get much time for vacations,” I said. I took a sip of the wine, and it made me pause. It was everything that Bucky had said, and I was amazed at what I could taste when I really paid attention to it; her outré descriptions even started to make sense now. “I’m teaching through the school year, then digging in the summer. Conferences during the holidays.”

  “Grim,” Charles said, munching his olive. “All work and n
o play.”

  “Well, this summer’s certainly been no picnic for you,” Daniel said, and I sensed we were getting down to the reason they’d invited me along. “What did you make of the wake? You said you thought it strange?”

  “Well, people certainly weren’t at their best, were they? I mean, even for a funeral.”

  “You mean the Bellamys,” Charles said matter-of-factly. “If you ask me, he’s about three baby steps away from a stroke. One more setback, and he’ll lose what little hair he has left. Bought that place across the street from the Chandler House, and then lost his job over some funny business before the buyout. He’s working at the factory now, but it will be macaroni and cheese for their overstimulated little darlings for another couple of years, till they get their feet back under them again.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s doing all right at the factory,” Daniel said, trying to balance out Charles. “Been working his tail off in marketing. Won a nice prize at the company Christmas party. Big flat-screen television.”

  Aha, I thought. That explained that little anomaly in the Bellamy’s living room.

  “And isn’t she awful?” Charles said to me. “All drama, all the time. Comes from being overbred.” He leaned in close to me. “Diminishes the brain size. Her and the poodles both.”

  I stifled a giggle, then composed myself with the sobering notion that Mr. Bellamy’s “funny business” had gotten them into Aden’s clutches somehow. Was Claire’s complaint about our early morning noise just a distraction, because it was actually one of them trying to get at Aden when they ran into Justin instead? The thought gave me the willies, and I took another sip of wine before answering Charles. “Well, something Aden said to them certainly got them off my back about the dig.”

  “Aden was an evil little cockroach. They were probably just there to make sure he was really dead. Like practically everyone there.”

  “Charles.”

  “Danny, it’s true.”

  “So why were you both there?” I asked. “I didn’t get the impression that you were his biggest fans.”

  “I didn’t like him and I didn’t like working with him,” Daniel said, “but I was there because I was a member of the board. I was at the wake out of respect, not that anyone else would have noticed or believed it. I believe in appearances.”

  “But you don’t even seem particularly interested in history. I guess I don’t understand why you’d put so much time in on the board as you do, if you don’t.” And money too, presumably, I thought. Takes both to be on the board of anything.

  “He doesn’t, does he?” Charles said. “I do, though. I love antiques—I’m in the business, you know? Fabulous. I went for the show, of course—who wouldn’t want to see that freak show?—but also to keep up my contacts. I wonder what will happen to all of Aden’s goodies, now that he’s gone?”

  “Charles, you are impossible.”

  “Danny, at least I’m honest. You were there for the sights, too.” Charles gave Daniel the hairy eyeball and turned around on his stool, ignoring us.

  “Yes, I went because I was on the board and because I do like to keep an eye on what’s happening in town. My father is deeply involved in several businesses and with the community, and I do the legwork he can no longer do. As far as the Historical Society goes, I’m not very impressed with how it teaches history. I don’t much care at all about the past—the future is what matters to me—but Dad does care. He was offered a position on the board, for obvious reasons, but his health prevented him from taking it. He asked that I sit in his place. Aden wasn’t thrilled—there is, pardon me, was, no affection between him and Dad—but I’m sure he thought it was worth it to keep an eye on his rival, one way or the other.”

  “Such intrigue.” Charles rolled his eyes.

  “Business is partly intrigue, and so is politics,” Daniel said mildly.

  “Didn’t Ted Cressey used to work for you, your father, I mean?”

  “Oh God. Cressey is a toad. He’s a smart guy, don’t get me wrong, but he spends so much time scheming for things he could more easily get through hard work. It’s tiring, really, trying to figure out what he wants. Playing one of us against the other.” He took a large sip of his whiskey, which I recognized as a good single malt when Rich poured it, though a generation older than I could generally afford to quaff.

  “What will happen to the board, to the Chandler House, now that Aden’s gone?”

  “The board will elect a new chair. My money’s on Bray Chandler, if you want to know. Then we’ll start a search for new managers for the Tapley and Chandler Houses.”

  “Oh, so it’s not going to Perry then?” Charles said. “Speaking of high drama. I misspoke earlier; La Bellamy has nothing on Ms. Diva Perry.”

  “No. Charles, can I get you another cocktail?”

  It struck me that Daniel’s offer had more to do with trying to shut Charles up than with anything to do with thirst. He gave him a pointed look, which Charles ignored.

  “Oh, yes please.”

  I asked, “Perry wants to be director of the Chandler House?”

  “She asked me about it the other day. Aden had been planning on retiring, and she wanted to know what her chances would be if she applied. Frankly, I think she could use the money. I had to tell her it wasn’t up to me, but…I didn’t think the board would think she was fully qualified.”

  “Ah.” I thought about what I’d learned from Mary Ann Spencer. I saw that Daniel was watching me closely. I suspected he knew all about Perry’s dodgy academic past as well.

  “Well, you’re right, she could use the money, that’s for sure,” Charles said. “Trust fund’s about dry after Daddy’s illness.”

  “It sounds as though she could use a break to me,” I said. “I mean, with all that’s been happening to her lately. The murders at the house, not to mention the hit-and-run attack—”

  “Emma, please! Don’t tell me you’re still buying that fish tale!” Charles said, putting down his glass. “Oh, no, no, my dear. One of my very close friends was working the night Perry was brought in and he told me she said nothing about the mysterious dark car she’s told the rest of us about. Not a bit of it! He says she broke her arm falling off a ladder. Trying to clean up that old white elephant house of hers, I suppose.”

  “What?” I didn’t believe my ears.

  Charles nodded. “You don’t know our Perry. If she says that someone nearly ran her over, you can bet it was much more likely that someone drove by and waved hello. The stupid girl has to be the center of attention, and frankly, a near-fatal attack reads much better than mere clumsiness, doesn’t it?”

  I didn’t know what to say; I took a sip of my wine and thought of Detective Bader’s words: “The hit and run isn’t part of this story.” He must have found out in the course of his investigation that Perry hadn’t been run down.

  Charles was just warming up to the subject and began demolishing the olives in his fresh martini. “So she gets no pity votes for me, if you’re asking my opinion.”

  Daniel wasn’t asking and pointedly brought the discussion around to the original subject. “As for the site manager, I think if Fee Prowse wants the job, she’ll get it. Nothing electric, but she knows the site as well as anyone.”

  And if what I heard was true about her, then Fee could use the money too, I thought. Was that a motive for murder? Aden had threatened her, it sounded like, too, and then there was the business with the Mather House….

  “Fee!” Charles snorted loudly. “As if everyone didn’t know about her pussyfooting around with Grace Fisher! If you’ll pardon the expression.”

  Daniel was truly angry, for the first time. “Charles, everyone doesn’t, so keep your mouth shut.”

  “Gracie.” My mind raced back to the sidewalk outside Wendy’s Bakery. “Gracie is Grace Fisher?”

  “If you do know,” Daniel said, “then I hope you’ll respect her wishes.”

  “I do. It’s her business.”
>
  “It’s everyone’s business,” Charles said, under the influence of tee many martoonies.

  “Charles, leave it,” Daniel said in a voice that was dangerous.

  “Fine.” Charles took the hint that he’d pushed it as far as he would get away with.

  Daniel turned back to me and leaned close. “It’s not as open a secret as Charles makes out. She’s…made some decisions and I think she should be allowed to live by them. It’s terribly important to her.”

  “Sure, I can understand that.”

  “She’s of a certain generation; she’s been very careful to live her life a certain way and she deserves that right.”

  “I agree.”

  He sat back, relieved, maybe believing he could trust me.

  “Grace is related to Justin, isn’t she?” I asked.

  Daniel nodded. “Distant cousin, I think. All the Fishers around here are connected, one way or another.”

  I filed that away for later consideration; it was worth thinking about, especially in light of the Fisher who was charged with setting the fire of 1738. More immediately though was the question of whether Fee wanted Justin away from the Chandler House because of her relationship with his cousin. And when getting him fired didn’t work, the next day he was found dead. I found him dead.

  “I wonder whether Detective Bader knows as well,” Daniel said. He looked me straight in the eye. “I wonder what he knows.”

  “I couldn’t tell you.” I realized that sounded as though I wouldn’t tell him. “I mean, I honestly just don’t know.”

  “I just thought you seemed to be in contact with him quite a lot.”

  “That may be, but he’s not told me anything. Less than what you can get from the paper,” I said.

  “Hmmm.” He settled back into his seat. “Emma, are you hungry? Do you want an appetizer?”

  Daniel seemed to want to persist with his questions about Bader. “No, actually, I’ve got to run soon. Thanks anyway.”

  “I hope you won’t mind if I order something, then.”