Death in Reel Time

by Brynn Bonner

  Johnny nodded solemnly. “All that’s true and I’m not saying I don’t have regrets; I’ve got plenty, but not a one of them is about anything that I’ve done here in Morningside. I never meant for any of you to know who I was or think of me as anything but an old handyman who was pretty good with flowers, but unfortunately for me, these two are too good at their job.” He nodded toward Esme and me. “So it’s got complicated.”

  “Well,” Olivia said, “I have to admit that when we started out, I didn’t have this view of my family history in mind, but despite everything I’m glad to know the truth. And maybe this is a way-out-there thought, but I’d like to believe that Mama, Uncle Riley, and Aunt Celestine are all resting easier now that I know the whole story.”

  “Um-hm, they are,” Esme whispered. “Well, Celestine’s still a little huffy, but she’s getting there.”

  twenty-five

  NEW YEAR’S DAY.

  We all dressed in glittery finery for the gala event that was to take place in our glammed-up living room at eight o’clock in the evening on the first day of the new year, a day filled with the promise of better days ahead.

  Tony Barrett, Morningside’s own auteur, was our guest of honor for the pre-premiere of his Morningside documentary. The club had taken care of food and decorations and Olivia, Daniel, and Beth had joined us for the evening. Denny would also be along soon.

  Everyone present now knew almost the whole story of how Blaine’s death had come about, and though the abuse hadn’t been spelled out, I was sure they’d all figured it out. But after all these months it hadn’t leaked. I didn’t think it would—ever—without Beth’s okay.

  It was over.

  Jennifer Jeffers had been so happy to close the case, she’d accepted everything at face value and shut the file tight before anyone could muck it up for her with wonky details.

  Out of deference to Denny’s career, we hadn’t told him everything. I had absolutely no doubt he was aware there was plenty that people weren’t telling, but he trusts us all enough to know this way is better.

  I hope Esme appreciated that. She and Denny had been drawing steadily closer. I had a feeling there would be an announcement of something more permanent soon—assuming Esme didn’t throw it all away. She still maintained she’d have to give Denny up rather than tell him about her gift. But I had my own intuition on this one. Denny was smart and observant and I was willing to bet he already knew more than he let on. And I’d made up my mind that if she cut him loose I was going to tell him why and I’d told her so. She says blackmail; I say sharing.

  Esme blusters a lot, but she’s developed quite a soft spot for Tony. She’s practically adopted him. She’d loved his video scrapbook for Olivia so much she sent a copy to our client in Wilmington and got Tony the gig for that job. And she was already talking about pitching his services alongside our own.

  A lot had happened in the past months. Johnny Hargett, true to his prediction, had not lived to face charges, much less a trial. He’d picked up a bronchial infection, which turned into pneumonia, and he passed away two days before Christmas, with Olivia, Beth, and Daniel at his bedside at the VA hospital. They’d jury-rigged some sort of relationship and while it wasn’t exactly Hallmark-worthy, it was a good patch job to see Johnny through to the end and to help Olivia, Daniel, and, most of all, Beth find some understanding and forgiveness.

  Beth had told me one reason she was so adamant about keeping quiet about the abuse was that Sterling Branch was seriously ill. Not even Peyton and Madison had known about it until after Christmas, when his doctors told him his treatments weren’t working.

  “There will come a time when I’ll talk about this, and I’ll use it to try to help other women,” she told me now, alone in the kitchen. “But for now I want what’s best for Sterling and Madeline. I want them to believe they lost the son they thought they knew, the one they mourned. And if Sterling doesn’t make it through this, I want him to go out remembering a son he was proud of.”

  “What about Peyton?” I asked. “How do things stand with you two? Is he still harassing you?”

  Beth chuffed a laugh. “Oh, Sophreena, he was never harassing me, just the opposite.” She carefully folded a dish towel and hung it on the oven handle. “He’d been pushing me for months to get help, to go to the authorities and to leave Blaine. He wasn’t trying to keep me quiet; he was trying to get me to tell. But I couldn’t. Peyton didn’t know about Sterling’s illness and I couldn’t tell him. Sterling and Madeline had asked me to keep it in strictest confidence, even from their children—especially from their children. The situation with Madison was already volatile and Sterling was afraid Blaine might challenge his competence to handle his own affairs if he learned Sterling was ill. It was all a big mess.”

  “So you really were in an impossible situation. But what I still don’t understand is why Peyton made that false confession.”

  “To protect me,” Beth said with a sigh. “That day when I told you I’d remembered something and that I thought maybe I’d hurt Blaine, or maybe even killed him, Peyton just reacted. He made that very gallant, but extremely stupid, gesture to protect me. He knew firsthand how bad it had gotten. He walked into the middle of it once, and Blaine didn’t bother to put on his charming act when Peyton was around. I guess he thought his brother would be on his side about everything.”

  “But he wasn’t,” I said.

  “No, not on this, and not about the situation with Madison. It infuriated Blaine that he couldn’t control his younger brother like he’d done when they were growing up. He didn’t like it when Peyton stood up to him. Peyton tried to talk to Blaine several times about his demands and his outbursts toward me, but he wouldn’t listen. In fact, that’s what he and Alan were planning when they drove Blaine to The Sporting Life that morning; they were trying to trap him into an intervention of some kind, make him take a hard look at himself. They’d planned to take him out in the boat so he couldn’t walk away, but he caught on. He got angry once he realized what they were up to. He threw a kayak paddle at Alan. It barely missed his head and flew into the lake. Alan could have been seriously hurt.”

  “So if they were of like mind about that, what was all the tension between Alan and Peyton?”

  “Oh, they’re all squared up with each other now. But back then Peyton was still pushing me relentlessly to come forward, to tell and get out of the marriage. But I couldn’t and I couldn’t tell him why. Alan knew because he’d done the legal work for Sterling for Madison’s trust. He was trying to get Peyton to let up on me, but, of course, he couldn’t tell him the whole story, either. Alan’s been a good friend to me.”

  “Just a friend?” I asked. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  “He’s just a friend,” Beth said smiling. “Alan doesn’t feel that way about me. It’s Bonnie he’s got his eye on, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. But I expect she’ll know soon. He’s planning to move to Morningside to open a law practice within the year.”

  “How about the store? What’s going to happen with it? With Bonnie?”

  Beth sighed. “The way it was set up, half ownership reverts to me, and I’m very happy to leave running the place to her. She’s always been the smarts of the equation, and the heart, too. I think we’ll get on fine. We might even become real friends now. At least I hope so.”

  “And Peyton?” I asked, sensing there was more there than she was telling. “How do things stand with you two now?”

  Beth stared out the kitchen to our backyard, which was shrouded in a mist of cold rain. “Peyton’s being very supportive, very tender and caring. It’s nice. I definitely married the wrong brother.”

  “It’s not too late,” I said.

  Beth gave her head a small shake. “It’s too complicated,” she said. “Despite everything, Peyton and I are both still grieving. Blaine was my husband and I said for better or worse. I never dreamed what the worst would be, but still, I made the vow and I tried with everything I
had to honor it. Peyton grew up idolizing Blaine and at one time they were close as brothers could be. I think he lost him twice: once when he found out what Blaine was doing to me, and again when he was killed. We’ve both got a long way to go before we can come to terms with it all. But for now it’s nice to have a friend who knows everything and who supports me in my decisions. And now that he and Madison know about Sterling’s condition, he gets why I don’t want it to come out just now and he’s in total agreement.”

  As we carried the plates of cookies and cakes to the dessert table, I glimpsed Winston and Marydale out in the yard with Sprocket and Gadget. They were sharing an umbrella, talking animatedly as they waited for the dogs to do their business. I still hadn’t figured out what was going on with them, and I was getting heartsick about it. Even Jack had finally noticed that they seemed distant somehow.

  Jennifer Jeffers, in a rare fit of altruism, had come on duty early to spell Denny so he could join us. As soon as he arrived we lined up to serve our plates and took them to the living room, where Esme and I had set up every tray table and end table we could beg or borrow. It was our humble version of dinner theater.

  After we were all gathered, Daniel tapped his glass to get our attention. “I have an announcement and I wanted you all to be the first to know,” he said, lifting his water glass. “If all goes well, next New Year’s Day I hope you will all be my guests at my new restaurant, which I intend to call”—he paused for effect, then lifted his glass toward his mother—“Olivia’s.” We toasted and promised to be regular customers, then launched a salvo of questions about the menu, locale, and décor. We learned that he was working with Madison Branch on designs for the interior. That seemed to have a nice symmetry.

  My expectations for Tony’s Morningside film were high. I’d seen enough of his work to know he was a talented guy, and on a personal level I’d come to think of him as the little brother I never had. But his depiction of my hometown took my breath away. It wasn’t a fluff piece or a travelogue. It was a hard but respectful look at community life in this particular small town. It explored the dual themes of how the town shapes the people and how the people shape the town.

  When the lights came up there was silence in the room, until Marydale finally broke it. “I am so happy I live in Morningside,” she said, swiping at tears. “And I am so happy you are all my friends.”

  Sprocket, sensing something wrong with his mistress, started jumping up on her legs. She reached down to scoop him up and cradled him in her lap. Marydale turned to Winston. “I can’t stand this anymore. I know what I said earlier, but I can’t stand it another minute.”

  Winston gave her a smile. “Well, good then. Go right on ahead.”

  Marydale looked around the room. “I feel like Winston and me have been cheating on y’all. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, just the two of us, I mean. And we’ve found out we’re sort of—” She seemed to be stuck for words.

  “Been bit by the love bug,” Winston said, smiling over at Marydale, who actually blushed like a schoolgirl.

  “I’m sorry we sneaked around, but we didn’t want anybody acting different around us. We haven’t even told our kids yet,” Marydale said. “We wanted to take it slow to make sure.”

  “But not too slow,” Winston said. “I’m not gettin’ any younger and life is short. When you find a good thing you need to latch on to it.”

  The room erupted into laughter and congratulations. Marydale and Winston were besieged with hugs. I looked across the room and found Jack staring at me. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. It was a questioning look.

  I dared hope I was interpreting the question correctly. Because if it meant what I thought it did, I had the answer ready.

  BRYNN BONNER’s short stories have been featured in many publications, including Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine and Futures. A native of Alabama, she lives in North Carolina.

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  Paging the Dead

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  First Gallery Books trade paperback edition March 2014

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file.

  ISBN 978-1-4516-6187-3

  ISBN 978-1-4516-6189-7 (ebook)