The pair discreetly waited until Courtney went out with Linda and Ken before they watched the video in grim silence. At the conclusion, Lem turned the machine off and though it was close to freezing outside, walked to the apartment's balcony. Renee followed to comfort him.
"It was like a ghost talking to me," he stated after Renee persuaded him to return to the warmth of the apartment. "I saw her battered body yesterday and today she was talking to me. She looked terrible but she was alive. If only she had sent the tape first and waited, I could have helped her." He swung around. "Why didn't I help her when she came pleading to me? I could have paid her debts and found the necklace. She could still be alive right now."
"You don't know that," Renee replied. "You may have prevented it, or she may have done it in a week or a month. Don't blame yourself."
She placed an arm on Lem's shoulder but he did not turn as he usually did to hug her. Instead he stared at the darkened television screen in silence.
"She may have been drunk," Renee persisted.
"No, Sweetheart," Lem said and held Renee's hand. "She had alcohol in her bloodstream but it was below the legal limit, enough to indicate she was not drunk. It was suicide and not an accident."
"How do you know?"
"The police said there were no skid marks behind the semitrailer. Her car ran straight into the rear at such a speed the momentum carried it into the rear axle." He turned and his voice broke. "The police said she would have been dead before the wheels squashed the car. She was barely recognizable, Renee but came back again on this video."
"And you still loved her?" Renee added and bit her lower lip.
Lem glanced up but said nothing.
"Did you still love her, Lem?" Renee cried. Her own eyes filled with tears, while his remained dry.
Lem turned and pulled her against his chest. "No, Renee. I love you. I told you after we were rescued from the cave. That was the truth then and still is. When we were first married I loved Nikki but that was a long time ago. You are the woman I love and need." He reached down, kissed her lips and for the first time his eyes moistened. "Can we go to bed?"
"Yes," Renee whispered, took Lem's hand and led him to the darkened room.
****
Fifteen minutes later there was a tap on the door. Courtney, still dressed in her street clothes, walked in, saw the blankets strewn across the floor and hastily retreated. Lem flushed but Renee recovered, dressed, threw Lem his pajamas and stuck her head out the door.
"Come in, Courtney," she said.
The girl looked across the corridor with an ashen face. "The videotape was in the player. Oh Renee, I saw it." She burst into tears. "I couldn't watch it all."
"We were talking about it," Renee replied. "What say we all have coffee in the kitchen and help one another get through this."
"If you want me." Courtney smiled through her tears.
"We do," Lem interrupted from the bedroom door.
He stepped forward, tucked his arms around them both and kissed them affectionately on the hair.
****
Courtney opened her eyes and wondered where she was. It was dark, she could hear the faint sound of a music CD turned low and felt the presence of people. It wasn't an ominous feeling.
Were they back in the cave?
They never had the CD there. She forced one eye open and could see lights ahead. Her head was leaning against somebody and an arm was around her shoulders. For a second she froze. Someone was touching her. It wasn't Renee. She knew that. She jerked awake and remembered she was in the middle of the front seat in the Cadillac. She could see Lem's bulky figure to her left, so he couldn't be holding her.
"Are you awake, Courtney?" a new voice said. The hand around her shoulder moved away. "You fell asleep on my shoulder."
"For the last fifty miles," Lem added. "We're past Burlington and heading up the valley."
Courtney looked right and saw Ken's self-conscious face. "You don't need to move your arm, Ken," she said in a soft voice.
It was the first time Ken had accompanied them back to the farm for the weekend. The blonde girl smiled. It was so secure between the two men. She reached up and squeezed Ken's hand when he returned it to her shoulder.
"You'll like Renee's dad and Diane," she said as her eyes met Ken's.
"We're here," Lem added. He turned the Cadillac into the long driveway.
Renee's car was already parked in the open barn and floodlights flashed on. Lem drove in beside the Cavalier and the trio walked across the yard to where Renee waited under the veranda.
"Ken," she said. "So Courtney did persuade you to come. I'm thrilled. She gets tired of having only us oldies around for two days."
"Yeah, I do." Courtney lied, flashed Renee a thank you smile and grinned at the boy standing shyly at the step bottom. "Come on, Ken. I'll introduce you to Jack and Diane."
****
An hour later the delicious supper Diane had cooked was over. Courtney and Ken, accompanied by Zona, disappeared into the sitting room to listen to a new CD.
"I wouldn't have believed it," Jack commented. "Courtney and a young lad. Very pleasant boy, too, though he doesn't say much."
"Give him time, Dad." Renee laughed and turned to the older woman smiling at her. "How was your week, Diane?"
"We're both fine," Diane replied and turned to Lem. "We're so sorry to hear about the accident and loss of your wife, Lem. Is there more we can do?"
Lem smiled. "We're fine. I'll be glad when Monday's funeral is over though. The delay because of the police pathologist's late release of Nikki's body didn't help but they couldn't be more helpful." He kissed her cheek. "Friends like you and Jack make it so much easier."
Jack and Diane had rung them three times after having been told the tragic news. There was not a lot they could do but Lem valued their concern and kindness. After hearing Courtney was deeply affected by Nikki's suicide, it was Diane who made the suggestion that Ken should be invited to the farm, so the teenager could have some company.
"There's one little item," Jack said.
"Yes," Renee replied and couldn't hide the twinkle in her eye.
"You know, don't you, Sweetheart," Jack retorted.
"Know what, Daddy?" the redhead replied. "You mean having Diane's car in the barn has a special significance?"
"My God, the modern generation. To us, it is a big step to live together. One didn't do those things in the sixties and seventies."
"But it's the new millennium, Daddy." Renee laughed. She winked at Lem. Her father was quite a heartthrob with two women in less than a year.
"You don't mind?" Diane said timidly. "My son took a bit of convincing."
"That little runt I used to boss around on the school bus," Renee said. "I see I'll need to have a word with him." She noticed her neighbor looked apprehensive and hastily added. "Diane, I'm thrilled. It should have happened years ago."
It was good to be home on the farm for the weekend. The years of security this old building offered made the tragic week easier to bear. Her hand slipped into Lem's and their eyes met. She was certain he felt the same.
****
CHAPTER 18
The crematorium was full with family, friends and business associates paying their respects to the woman who died in such tragic circumstances. Jack and Diane were among the mourners and Lem was surprised to see that Ken accompanied Courtney. The young guy showed compassion and thoughtfulness often missing in one so young.
After the service Lem took his position outside the main doors to have a few words with those who wanted to offer their personal sympathy, while Renee and the others waited across the lawn.
One middle-aged gentleman dressed in a dark suit and hat caught his eye. He was unknown to Lem but looked distressed, a solitary figure away from the clusters of mourners spread across the forecourt. Lem excused himself from an acquaintance and walked over.
"Good morning," he said and introduced himself.
The man looked u
p and wiped red eyes with a crisp white handkerchief. "Hello Lem," he said in a hushed voice. "The service was beautiful. Pastor Vinay has just the right touch for this sort of tragedy, doesn't he?"
"He does." Lem agreed and wondered what to say next.
"We did meet once at one of Nikki's staff dinners but I don't suppose you remember me," the man continued.
"I am afraid not." Lem apologized.
"Pat McQuilkin," the man said.
It was as if a lightning bolt hit. Patrick McQuilkin, that woman beater and big-time swindler, was this distressed gentleman. Lem's thoughts must have shown in his face because his companion gazed inquisitively at him.
"Are there problems, Lem?" he asked in a sympathetic voice. "I'm sorry. This is your wife's funeral and having someone like me here must be an embarrassment. I was under the impression Nikki and you were divorced when we began…err…our affair."
Lem swallowed. His mind raced and he realized something wasn't quite right. This man's attitude was wrong. If he had been responsible for that massive attack on Nikki, why would he come to her funeral? Why did his body language portray someone in deep distress?
"I'm sorry," Pat McQuilkin said and squeezed Lem's arm. "I shouldn't have come to this family service. I can see you're overwrought."
Lem forced his surprised expression into a slight smile and replied. "No, it's me who should apologize. It's just that everything I'd heard made me build up a different picture of you. You're welcome and I appreciate the effort you made to come." What now? There was too big a mystery to let McQuilkin drift away. "Tell me," he hastily continued and tried to make his voice sound casual. "When was the last time you saw Nikki?"
Pat rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. "Quite a while." He frowned. "Now I remember. You were on the national news when you survived that cave disaster, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"It was before that." He sighed and stared over Lem's shoulders. "Our relationship was over but I was an old man who tried to cling. She walked out and said she was going back to you. Did this happen?"
"No," Lem replied cautiously. "I had another partner by that time."
Either this man was one confident con artist, or he was telling the truth.
"Have you seen her recently?" Pat inquired. Again, his voice showed genuine empathy.
"Off and on." Lem decided to take a gamble. "She had some sort of debt and told me you helped her out."
Patrick shrugged. "She went to Atlanta and ran up massive gambling debts," he said in a quiet voice. "I settled them for her. She had become quite distressed."
"Quite?" Lem pressed.
"Okay." The man fixed Lem with a firm gaze. "We're not fooling each other, are we, Lem. She had a drinking problem and this led to the other things. I thought I could help her and did for a while, then she…" He stopped and stared back at the crematorium before continuing. "I guess to her, I was just an old man with money."
"And the diamond necklace?" Lem cut in.
"I gave her one, yes," Pat replied without hesitating. "I suppose she told you I asked for it back."
"She came looking for it," Lem told a half-truth.
Patrick nodded. "She told me it was lost but I didn't believe her. If you find it amongst her personal items, I would appreciate having it returned. It is a family heirloom with more sentimental than monetary value."
"Certainly."
Their conversation was interrupted when Renee walked across the lawn and stood quietly beside the pair. She gave an apologetic smile to McQuilkin and turned to Lem. "Sorry, Dear. There's another old aunt of yours who would like to have a few words."
"Sure, Renee," Lem replied and turned back to Patrick. "I must go but why don't you come up to the house? We have refreshments there for the mourners. The address is on the service song sheet."
"I'd like that." He shook Lem's hand again, raised his hat to Renee and walked to a large cream automobile parked in the far corner of the lot.
"There's no aunt. I just thought you might want to be rescued," Renee said when the man was out of earshot. She grinned. "A true gentleman who owns a Rolls Royce. Is he an old relation or business acquaintance?"
"Neither," Lem replied in a neutral voice. "That was Patrick McQuilkin."
"What?" Renee gasped.
"And I have a feeling Nikki's video was a figment of her imagination."
"Rubbish. There was no way she could have faked those wounds, Lem."
"Oh, that part's true but I don't think Patrick did it."
"Why?" Renee turned and watched the Rolls Royce drive away. "Just because he acted like a gentleman."
"No, it was more than that," Lem replied. "Everything pointed to a person genuinely distressed. I'm usually a good judge of character and fed in a few pointed questions. Even his explanation of why he wanted the necklace returned sounded authentic."
Renee glared at him. "You asked him about that diamond necklace?"
"Well, why not?"
Renee relaxed and smiled. "Okay, Lem. It makes everything a mystery though, doesn't it?"
"Yes. I've invited him up to Nikki's house."
"Our house," Renee corrected. "Remember, we're moving in next week."
"Oh, you little money-grabber." Lem laughed and kissed her forehead. "Anyway, why don't you drift up and get Patrick McQuilkin involved in a conversation. We can compare notes afterwards. Don't mention the video, though and warn Courtney about him. She's well-meaning but could spout something."
****
By early afternoon, the mourners had departed and the family was alone in the kitchen of the house that had reverted to Lem's ownership. After saying farewell to Jack and Diane with a promise to be back at the farm early on Friday, they sat down.
"Can I show Ken around now, Lem?" Courtney asked. "After all, if Linda and him are going to come and stay here with me, we'll need to pick our bedrooms."
"All separate." Lem warned her and received a sharp blow across his shoulders.
"Cheeky." Courtney ran to where Ken waited. "Lem said we could have the whole top floor," she said in a voice loud enough for Ken to hear.
"Did you?" Renee asked with raised eyebrows.
"Not really but it's not a bad idea," Lem replied with a shrug. "The upstairs is self-contained with a little kitchen unit. The downstairs bedroom has never been used, so it can be ours."
"Are you uncomfortable about returning?" Renee asked quietly.
"Not really," Lem replied and changed the topic. "You certainly got Patrick McQuilkin talking. What were your impressions?"
"Like yours," Renee said in a serious voice. "He is either an extremely good actor or Nikki lied."
"But why would she bother if she was going to kill herself? It doesn't make sense."
"Perhaps she believed it herself," Renee suggested. "She was attacked and perhaps, in her mind, it was Patrick who did it."
"Or someone he employed." He sighed. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't."
"So we find someone who can help us," Renee said. "At work we have contact with excellent private investigators."
"I don't know."
"Well, we can't forget about it. Nikki was attacked and under considerable duress. We thought Patrick McQuilkin was responsible but now have our doubts. If it wasn't him, then it was someone else."
"Okay," Lem said, "but keep it discreet and don't run up big expenses. It's too late for Nikki now."
"Lawyers are always discreet, Sweetheart."
She leaned back in her chair, sipped the coffee and gazed around the huge ranch-style kitchen. Courtney's squeal of delight filtered down the stairwell and Lem lapsed into silence. It was good to have the funeral behind them.
****
Cameron Lowe was like the private detectives often portrayed in cheap paperbacks. His clothes were casual as was his body language when he sat down.
"Two nights before her death," he began in a slow voice, "Nikki Erksberg was attacked at two in the morning in one of the less desirable parts of
town. She was found distressed and wandering, then taken to an emergency clinic for treatment. The medical report states there was sperm on her body and clothes. The police wanted to investigate the incident as a possible rape but she refused to file a complaint. At the time of this attack Patrick McQuilkin was in New York. I can find no evidence that any of his associates or employees were involved. He is a ruthless businessman but never steps over the line."
"Have you anything else?" Renee asked.
"Yes," Cameron said and turned a page of his report. "Nikki was a patient in the Bayview Sanatorium for patients with emotional problems but discharged herself before her six-week treatment was finished. That was awhile back." He grimaced. "The clinic is tight-lipped about her stay and refuses to release information. I do know she left with one of the male patients, a Templeton James Sanders. The police are looking for Sanders for a series con jobs involving women but he has disappeared. It is believed he preyed on women at this clinic by posing as a rich businessman recovering from a breakdown. The local authority is investigating the sanatorium for a list of improprieties stretching back several years and their license may be suspended."
Renee screwed up her nose but made no comment as she read the three pages Cameron handed to her. "It all fits in. Have you anything about the necklace, Cameron?"
"McQuilkin told only part of the story. It was indeed a family heirloom as he said but it's worth over quarter a million dollars. His insurance won't pay out since they are querying whether it was a gift or loaned to Nikki. I guess with her death, it will be impossible to prove either way."
"Thank you. As usual, you've been thorough."
"Yes," Cameron replied and grinned. "I've billed the firm and an itemized invoice is enclosed. There's the usual company discount, of course."
"So there should be, after all the work we send your way," Renee answered with a smile.
After he left, Renee reread the report, jotted down several side notes and rang Lem's office.
"It sounds as if Nikki was making up the part about Patrick," Lem said after Renee read him the relevant sections from the report. "It sounds typical. Patrick McQuilkin became a convenient scapegoat to play to my sympathy. If she'd only been honest I could have helped her."
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