by Dara Girard
Oh God she’d heard those words before. “Tell me what happened.”
“The doctors tried everything—”
“What happened?”
“He was involved in a single car collision. It appears to have been a heart attack, but we won’t know everything until the ME’s report.”
“We’re sorry,” the other officer said. “But we need to ask you a few questions.”
Maureen sat, feeling numb. His heart. The heart he’d turned from her the moment Catherine went missing. The heart she’d never been able to reclaim. He’d died years ago, only now she would bury him.
“Emery’s dead,” Marie told Joscelyn over the phone from her dorm bedroom, where her roommate—a senior studying Childhood Education—was passed out on her bed after a night of partying. Marie didn’t particularly like her, but although she could commute from home, she wanted the freedom of living on her own. But her mother wouldn’t let her get an apartment no matter how many A’s she’d earned as a junior at Georgetown, so she’d moved onto campus. “They think it was a heart attack.”
“Pity.”
“Pity? That’s all you can say?”
“Yes. He was unhappy and making Mom miserable so I guess it’s for the best.”
“That horrible.”
“But it’s true.”
“What about little Aaron? He’ll have to grow up without a father.”
“Maybe. Mom still has her looks. I don’t see her having much trouble snagging another man.”
Marie cringed at her sister’s callous words. “He’s not a pet you can just replace. Didn’t you feel anything for Emery at all?”
“Aside for pity and occasionally contempt? No. And don’t pretend your heart is broken. I remember how nervous you were when Mom started dating him. You were so afraid he’d steal all her love.”
“That was a long time ago. I was a child then. Emery was a good man. I’ll miss him.”
Joscelyn sighed. “Yes, he was good to us. I suppose there will be a funeral?”
“Of course.”
“Then you tell Lorna.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see,” she said with a smile in her voice. And twenty minutes later Marie found out what her sister was talking about.
“Are you kidding me! This is so unfair!” Lorna wailed. “How could he do this to me? I’m supposed to get married in six months. Who’s going to walk me down the aisle? Who’s going to make the speech at my reception!”
“Lorna, that’s not the big problem right now.”
“Not the big problem? Do you know how much planning goes into a wedding? And I wanted that day to be perfect and now it’s ruined.”
“Uncle Walter can walk you down the aisle and give the speech.”
“Uncle Walter? He clashes with everything! First of all he’s shorter than I am and he has buck teeth that he should have gotten fixed years ago! No, it would be a disaster.”
Marie shook her head. “We’ll come up with something. Right now we have to be there for Mom and Aaron.”
“Aaron was going to be my ring bearer.”
Marie pushed up her glasses. “He still will be.”
“I sound selfish, don’t I?”
“The fact that you even have to ask is rather sad,” Marie said, glancing at her roommate when she interrupted the silence with a loud belch. She absently scratched her bottom before turning her head. Marie turned away; her roommate liked to drink and at times smelled like a brewery, but she never got sick, at least not in their dorm room.
“I guess I’d rather be upset about the wedding than Emery. I’m sorry he’s dead. I’d rather be angry at him than sad that he’s gone.”
“I know.”
“I won’t get my father and daughter dance, I won’t get—”
“I know.” Marie bit her lip. “Do you think sorrow can kill?”
“What do you mean?”
“You heard me. Can sadness kill someone?”
“How would I know that? You’re the one studying psychology.”
“Yes, and there’s scientific studies about death and depression.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”
“I’m trying to reconcile myself with the fact that we killed him.”
Lorna lowered her voice and said firmly, “We didn’t kill him. Why would you say that?”
“Because of what we did.”
Lorna’s tone grew hard. “We didn’t do anything, remember?”
Marie glanced at the stack of textbooks on her desk and paperbacks by Carl Jung, Erich Fromm, and Oliver Sacks stacked on the ground near her bed. She was searching for answers she’d probably never find. “He died a little every day.”
“That’s not our fault. People disappear. It’s not the end of the world. Horrible things happen. You move on. You’ll be a terrible psychologist if you don’t tell your patients that.”
“Psychiatrist.”
“I know you keep telling me there’s a difference, but I really don’t care. But let me give you a little advice. Guilt gets you nowhere, regret is for losers. Physician, heal thyself.”
She knew her sister was trying to be funny, but she wasn’t in the mood to laugh. “So you never think of her?”
“Not when I can help it. Unless…”
Marie sat up, did her sister possibly feel some of what she did. “Unless what?”
“I wonder what Emery’s will says.”
14
She couldn’t tell anyone what she’d seen. Michela Lopez quickly gathered her few belongs in the small apartment she shared with two other women, desperate to leave.
“Where are you going?” Harriet Winstrom said, passing by the younger woman’s room. She was the house manager at the Ojo house where they both worked and made sure everything ran smoothly from the kitchen staff on down.
“I’m quitting,” she said stuffing her bag.
“But you need this job,” Harriet said, knowing Michela was sending money to her parents in Florida and a son she was supporting who lived with them.
Yes, but I can’t stay. Not after what I’ve seen. What she suspected she’d seen. Maybe she was wrong. She didn’t want to find out either way. “I’ll find another one.”
“Don’t do this. Tell me what happened?”
“Nothing. I just...I have to leave.” She couldn’t let any of the household see her, they couldn’t suspect anything.
Yes, she’d seen it and it was so awful. It would follow her. How could a daughter do that to her father? This house had suffered so much, but now she knew it hadn’t been a heart attack. She knew that evil lived there. Evil she didn’t want to face.
“Please—” Harriet said, reaching for her hand.
“Let me go,” Michela said yanking away. “I’m sorry,” she said with regret. She didn’t want to go and hated the thought that she would leave everyone else to have to do extra duties to cover for her. And Harriet had been kind enough to hire her in the first place. “Truly,” she said before she zipped up her bag and ran out of the room, not daring to look back.
15
Joscelyn sighed at the sight of her stepfather’s closed coffin decorated with a large casket spray of larkspur, roses, carnations and Stargazer lilies complemented by the lush green of ivy vines. She sat surrounded by the sound of soft crying, people blowing their noses and whispering among themselves in agreement to the eulogy. She didn’t dare look at her mother. Although she knew what she’d see. Her mother would be stoic, just as she’d been at the funeral of their father.
Joscelyn cast a glance at Lorna and her fiancé, Greg. Her sister dabbed at her eyes, determined not to ruin her perfectly applied makeup. Marie looked a mess, her eyes and nose were red and she’d already gone through nearly a box of tissues and the service was only halfway over. She felt for her. She knew how much Marie admired Emery. She didn’t remember their biological father since she’d only been one years old when he died.
It was all such a pity.
Such a waste. If he hadn’t kept digging, she wouldn’t have had to do what she did. All these years, he just wouldn’t let it go. Why not just accept Catherine was gone? Her plan was flawless. Nobody needed to know anything. Especially her stepfather and it would have worked if that damn Sergeant Major Adeyemi hadn’t found Jesus. Of all the women the man had to fall for, it had to be some preacher’s daughter who turned his heart to God.
Joscelyn sniffed with displeasure. He’d likely found an easier way to make money. Marie handed her a tissue, misinterpreting her sniff. Joscelyn took it, even though she didn’t need it. Damn. Why did it have to come to this? Why hadn’t the officer just asked for more money like a proper Nigerian? But he’d tried to ruin things.
It was only by accident that she’d seen his number on her stepfather’s cell phone, which he’d left on the kitchen counter. He could be so absent-minded. She’d gone to make herself a snack to eat on the way to the hospital, glad to be in her final year of medical school. Now she got to focus on doing real work instead of studying the likes of inorganic chemistry, pathology and medical ethics. She initially thought of ignoring the ringing phone, but then grew curious when she saw the foreign number. The moment she’d picked up, Adeyemi had started talking before she spoke. “Sah, I have news that I think you should know. It’s been on my heart for years. My wife convinced me to call you. She’s a woman of God and I am working towards being worthy of her and Him. Chief Dayo told me you are still looking for your Catherine. I don’t mean to take up your time, but your daughters know something. They paid the Deputy Commissioner—”
“Did they indeed?” Joscelyn said, glad to have gotten the information she needed before anyone else did.
He paused. “Who is this?”
“I’m disappointed in you. Spreading lies is so beneath you.”
“Ah… you,” he said, giving the single word a world of meaning. “You will pay for your sins, to God be the glory. “
“How much to make my sins go away?”
“No earthly money can—”
Joscelyn rolled her eyes and let out a long breath. “Why do men who turn to God become so boring? I don’t need a sermon.”
“You need to tell your father what you know. He will find out from someone.”
“A wire transfer will be quick.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Then we’re through.” She disconnected then swore. She hadn’t considered this. Nigerians were known for their love of money and corruption. Why did this ridiculous lowly man have to be different and change? Her stepfather couldn’t know the truth. But he’d tricked her. He’d tricked all of them. That quiet, calm way of his had blinded her to the truth. None of them suspected he was still searching. All these years he’d seemed so resigned. She’d actually admired him for it. But that had been a lie. She shouldn’t have underestimated him. A man like him hadn’t built a lucrative business by luck. If Adeyemi told him anything, that could be a problem and cause him to doubt their story. But perhaps he wouldn’t believe it. Truly who would? She could lie and say that he was getting back at her because she hadn’t given him sexual favors. But the timeline was wrong. Why would he wait six years and the fact he was now married to a woman who’d encouraged him to confess gave his story credence. How could she fight that?
She could use tears. But even if she got Emery to believe her, there would still be that element of doubt. That’s all Adeyemi had to give him and that would ruin everything. Her stepfather would approach the Deputy Commissioner, maybe even others.
And, if he started talking to her mother...her mother who suspected there was more to their story than they were telling…no, that would be disastrous. Joscelyn licked her lip, fear and anger knotted inside her. She had to do something.
“What are you doing?”
Joscelyn spun around at the sound of Emery’s voice. She saw him in the kitchen doorway. It took her a moment to realize she still had his cell phone in her hand. She had to think fast and give him a good explanation. “You just missed a call.”
“You don’t usually answer my phone.”
Why had he assumed she’d answered it and not just checked the number? Had he overheard her talking? “No, but it looked urgent because it was from Nigeria.”
He rushed towards her, his gaze sharpening. “Who was it? What did they say?”
“It’s not good news,” she said feigning pain.
“At this juncture, any news is good news to me.”
At this juncture? Joscelyn thought trying not to smile. He could sound so formal sometimes. “They found a body. They think it’s Catherine because it was wearing her other missing shoe and the clothes we’d described.”
“Why didn’t you come get me? Why did they hang up?”
“The line got disconnected. I was thinking about how to reach them again when you entered.”
Emery held out his hand. “Let me call them now.”
“He said he was leaving.”
“I can reach him. Who was it? Not too much time has passed.”
She reluctantly handed him the phone. She watched him dial with growing anxiety. She couldn’t let him hear what Adeyemi had to say. She couldn’t let him uncover her lie. She’d lose everything then. He’d disinherit them, their lives would be ruined. If only he’d just trust her. Why didn’t he just trust her? “I just remembered something,” she said.
Emery looked at her startled. “What?”
“He was going out, but would be back in an hour. You should try then.”
“I want to try now.”
Joscelyn gripped her hands as he dialed. She heard the phone ring. Once, twice, three times.
“You’re right,” Emery said after the fifth ring. “He’s not there.” He disconnected.
Joscelyn held back a cry of relief and nodded solemnly.
“I have an appointment, but I’ll speak to whomever called later.” He turned and left.
No, she couldn’t let that happen. That’s when she spotted his thermos. He always liked taking his coffee with him before he had a meeting. She went to the medicine cabinet and took out one of her mother’s prescriptions. She knew it would have an adverse affect on him, especially with his high blood pressure pills.
Slipping the medicine into his thermos had been easy. What was hell, was waiting to see if it had worked. When Marie had called her that afternoon, that’s when she knew they were all still safe.
The ME’s report had been inconclusive, but no one wanted to bother her mother with an investigation, so that crisis had been averted. A heart attack was sad, but simple and clean. It really was too bad. She hadn’t minded Emery and he’d been a good father to Aaron. Why couldn’t Aaron have been enough for him? A son to rear and love. Why had he left his heart in that wretched country? Always talking about it as if it were some Shangri-La when it was filled with corruption and dirt roads. No, that was unfair. She’d seen some pretty places, the guest house, the hotel, but she’d seen Guyana, Brazil, and Spain too and felt no tug to anything or anywhere. She couldn’t understand people’s attachment to places or things. She could live anywhere, with anyone.
If only he’d accepted the new life he had. The new family. If he hadn’t looked back, tried to hold on to the past, he would still be alive. The future. That was all that mattered and she’d do everything to protect it.
She glanced at her brother Aaron, who was pulling on his bottom lip and trying to keep still. He was a good little boy, inoffensive, not rowdy and annoying like most boys. He’d be useful when he was older. She’d take care of him and make sure to take his father’s place.
Now she had to find a way to make sure Adeyemi stayed in line, otherwise she’d make sure he found out if heaven existed.
16
“This is payment.”
Maureen froze as she stood staring at Emery’s grave site, the sound of the rain tapping against the canopy above her. She hadn’t heard the woman approach. She wished she had, then she would have been
more prepared. It was never wise to let a snake sneak up on you and she knew better than to have her guard down. “Not now, Mum.”
Tamilla Goodfield was not a woman who liked being told what to do. She did exactly as she pleased. At sixty, she carried herself like a woman half her age, although her pinched features made her face look a decade older. She’d never been much to look at, so her daughter’s beauty had come as a surprise to everyone, especially her. A daughter, who had once been a source of pride, now only gave her pain. “It was bound to happen. You didn’t think you’d be able to get away with your deception forever, did you?”
Maureen adjusted the veil of her black hat. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
A sour grin touched Tamilla’s mouth. “Yes, keep telling yourself that. But no matter how many times you say it, doesn’t make it true. You were selfish and cold and that hasn’t changed.”
Maureen pulled up the collar of her grey cashmere coat. “I said, not now.”
Tamilla continued with enjoyment. “Two husbands buried and you’re barely past forty. At least you have only one child to worry about this time with the youngest girl in college.”
“She’s not my youngest. My youngest is still missing.”
“Joscelyn told me that she was dead. That some officer—”
“I don’t believe it. Joscelyn has been working hard to uncover the truth. She told me she contacted the Nigerian consulate, the embassy, the police and host of other organizations to no avail. I think they told her Catherine’s dead to get her to stop asking questions, because when I’ve asked to have the body shipped, she tells me they always have excuses. Catherine is still out there.”
Tamilla’s pleasure dimmed and her tone grew solemn. “Paying for your crimes no doubt. Poor child.”
“I don’t serve a God that cruel.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever served anyone but yourself.”
“I can’t change the past no matter how much you want me to.”
“I want you to admit what you did.”
