The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1

by Clayton Conrad

  “That’s how she lived her life Frank, she was afraid of anything as far as I know.”

  After that they rode in silence, each man in his own thoughts and grief. It was Frank who finally broke the silence.

  “Of course, you will stay with me while you’re here, I won’t have any other way.”

  “I’d like that Frank,” Clayton replied. “I would hate staying at that begin to place in the city.”

  “Good. That’s settled.” A moment later he continued, “There were only a few things left to identify her. Some trinkets, a charred and melted bracelet, a ring. They found her purse too, what was left of it.”

  “Yes Frank, he mentioned that earlier.”

  “I did? I’m sorry. Just rattling on like an old man I guess.”

  “I wish you would have waited for me to get here before you made the ID. I would’ve done it and you wouldn’t have to have gone through all that.”

  “Now I wish you had waited too,” Frank said. “But you know me, when the plane was a day late in arriving went ahead anyway. I was never any good at putting things off.”

  “Still, it had to be rough for you,” Clayton said with concern in his voice.

  They arrived at Frank’s estate. It was a large sprawling manor house is set on 10 acres of wooded land with the winding Whitewater stream that ran through the back side of the property, just right for mountain trout. Of course the whole thing was gated in fenced off from the road. The big limo pulled up to the gate and the driver, whose name was Morris, pushed the button on his remote and the huge iron gates swung open then close behind them as they pulled through.

  The driveway was 100 feet long and wide enough for two cars abreast of each other. The grounds were well lit with security lighting and groomed with expert care. The house itself was red brick and white stucco with get a gabled roof and a grand entryway, straight out of house beautiful. It had seven bedrooms and 10 baths, not counting the guesthouse, which once served as a stable for horses. There was an Olympic sized pool, a large patio with a covered veranda and even a skeet shooting range in the back.

  Chapter 4

  Frank spirit seemed to lift as soon as he entered the grand entryway that led to the wide-open great room with high vaulted ceilings. The paintings that hung the walls, huge walk-through fireplace, the lavish furniture all spoke of power and wealth.

  Clayton gave a little whistle, “you know Frank, matter how many times I see this place it never ceases to amaze me. This place is just beautiful. You must have had a great architect and builder to come up with something this grand.”

  “The estate was already here but my wife remodeled it and brought it up to date without completely destroying the original design. And yes, I hired the finest builder money could buy, of course most of the place is closed off now. No sense having all this room when it’s not needed. Say,” Frank continued, “how would you like something to eat? You must be famished; you haven’t had time to eat.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Clayton answered. “Just the ticket, it’s been a long time since I’ve tasted some of Martha’s cooking.”

  “I’m a bit hungry myself,” Frank put in, as he rang for his maid and cook who had been with him for more than 20 years.

  “Martha, please fix me and our guest something to eat, will you Martha, we’ll have it in your kitchen today, if that’s agreeable to you.”

  When Martha saw Clayton her Chevy round face broke into a big smile.

  “Why Mr. Crawford,” she said, “how very nice to see you again. Everyone here misses you so ever since you left.”

  That a sad look came across your face and she added, “if everything were different and we were all here together, like it was before all this happened. I’m so sorry for your loss” her eyes filled with tears

  “Enough of that stuff,” said Clayton, as he gave her a big bear hug. “No room for sadness today, today we set apart to enjoy each other’s company and leave everything else out. And may I be so bold and take the liberty to invite you and Morris to join us at the table?”

  A shocked look came across her face, “oh no, Mr. Crawford, we could do that, it just wouldn’t be done. We are the help and we never sit with the head of the household, the Lord of the Manor. Oh no, we just couldn’t.”

  “Ah yes, you can,” Frank said, “just this once we can all dined together as a special request from our guest. You know,” he continued, turning to Clayton, “just you being here makes all the difference in the world. I feel better already.”

  Clayton got the phone call little before noon of the sixth day after the accident. His wife’s remains were ready to be picked up, and the official finding of the Medical Examiner’s Office was death caused by burns suffered in fatal car accident. Clayton suddenly realized he had been terribly lax in getting things ready for this day. He had just been putting it off until the day had finally come and he hadn’t done a thing in preparation for it. Damn, he could kick himself where hurts. Well nothing to do but make the best of things and get cracking. So he asked Morris, Frank’s driver/butler if he knew of a good mortuary and ask him to drive in there.

  “Yes sir,” he replied, again “there are several in town and I will be glad to drive you to any one of them.”

  “Fine,” Clayton said, “I have to take you up on the offer. We better take care of that ASAP.”

  “Very good sir, I’ll bring the car around.”

  Frank was downtown in his office building known as the ivory tower. Clay was put right through to him.

  “Frank this is Clayton, I’ll be downtown today. The police are releasing Michelle’s remains and I haven’t picked out a mortuary yet to handle it. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to help me or leave it up to me alone. I don’t mind, mind you, I just wanted to know before I go ahead with it so not to hurt your feelings.”

  “I understand Clayton…. I can’t get away from here right now anyway, this big trouble in paradise. Talk to you later.”

  By the time Clayton got to the front door Morris was there with the Rolls and waiting for him. It was another beautiful day with a clear cloudless sky and temperatures in the 70s. The traffic was tolerably lights and all the traffic lights were in their favor. If it were just under different circumstances, it would be a nice day.

  They pulled up next to a nice-looking building of brick and stone with a manicured look to it race, a well-kept lawn and shrubs, freshly plane painted entrance and ultraclean appearance. Once inside, they were greeted by a short stubby balding man with the quiet manner, his hands folded in front of his ample stomach.

  “My wife’s remains are ready to be released today at the city morgue. I need someone to pick them up and take care of her,” Clayton explained.

  “Of course we can handle that for you. All I need is your name and a few particulars and we’ll get right on it.”

  “My name, of course my name. I’m so much in a dither there’s days I’m just not thinking straight. I’m Clayton Chase, my wife is Michelle Wellington Chase, or was,” he finished with a mumble.

  “That’s okay Mr. Chase, you don’t worry about a thing, we can handle anything. We be needing our cosmetic services, will be a closed casket for her? Have you picked out a suitable coffin or would you like to look some over. Please step in my office meeting make the needed arrangements.”

  Once in the office, the two men were seated. The funeral director slapped his forehead. “Of course, of course, you’re Mr. Crawford. I’ve read all about you in the newspapers I’m so sorry for your loss, she was indeed a beautiful woman. You must miss her terribly. Anything at all I can do all you need to do is just ask. I’ll do my very best for you in this terrible time for you.”

  “That’s kind of you, I’m sure. All I want is a quiet ceremony, just a few friends and family, no more than 50 or so. It will be a closed casket of course and I’ll let you handle that. Money is no object, I just wanted nice.”

  “Yes indeed Mr. Crawford, anything you say. I’ll personally tak
e care of everything. I just have a few papers please sign in our business is complete. When would you like to hold the services for her?”

  “Oh I don’t know, the sooner the better I suppose.”

  “How about next weekend, we can have a small memorial for her on Friday and the service on Saturday, with internment directly following.”

  “That would be fine, a leading up to you to handle things and I guess you can pick up the remains any time this week. I must make arrangements for clergy and some speakers to say a few words. The have any difficulty at all your comment once.”

  “There should be no problems Mr. Crawford.”

  What was supposed to be a private ceremony turned out to be a circus. The word got out as it usually does everyone who is someone showed up. The newsman came in droves, the networks and 10 there TV camera crews. This was big news for the papers. Michelle Wellington Crawford, one of the richest socialites in the area was to be interned in her family vault next her mother and brothers remains. The Rev. Thomas Raines officiated the proceedings, an aunt spoke a few kind words and a church group sang “Amazing Grace” and “How Great Thou Art”. There was a luncheon after the service at Frank’s.

  While people were filing out of the building and well-dressed man about 40 came up to Clayton.

  “I’m Sen. Paul Harding, Michelle works for me is my personal secretary. I can’t tell you how very sorry I he clasped Clayton’s hand in both of his and warmly shook his hand, looking straight into Clayton’s eyes. I realize what a horror this must be for you. She was so alive, so exciting to be around. She lifted up everyone around her.”

  “That’s kind of the Senator. I appreciate your words and thank you for them. They mean a lot right now.”

  “Nonsense, I was only saying the truth and everyone knows it. She was a special kind woman and we will all miss her.”

  Then the camera crew from one of the networks spotted the two men standing together and hurried over.

  “Sen. Harding, it’s Jack Carson from TV 12, how about a picture with Mr. Crawford in a word or two for the camera.”

  “Sure thing boys, just be sure to get my left profile a? That’s my best side,” he winked. Before Clayton knew it the cameras are rolling and lights were flashing and he was live on national news. He stood there with the centers arm around his shoulders all the Sen. shook his hand again.

  “I want to say that this is a terrible tragedy not only for Mr. Crawford here but for everyone who ever knew this remarkable woman. Thank you; remember to vote in this coming election.” And it was over.

  Chapter 5

  While Clayton was at the grave site a young man came up and introduced himself as Stephen Driscoll.

  “I’m sorry to bother you at a time like this Sir, but I may have a minute of your time?” He spoke with a British accent. Was a little taller than Clayton and very well groomed, light sandy colored hair and clear blue eyes with a good solid build with wide shoulders in a narrow waist. He was in his early 20’s and look like a movie star, Clayton couldn’t help but notice.

  “Yes, I may have a few minutes,” Clayton said, after sizing him up.

  “You don’t know me and I pray you don’t take offense, but I was seeing Michelle at the time of her death.”

  “You were seeing Michelle? How long were you together,” he asked with a slight smile, to put the man at ease.

  “For about a year, I knew you were separated for long time and didn’t think you would care what we were to each other.”

  “Okay, so that’s cleared up Stephen Driscoll, now what is it you want of me, other than letting me know you are laying with my wife? Is it my blessing? Well you have them so you made on peace and sleep well tonight.”

  “No it’s not that, I don’t know just where to start or how to say it but,” he hesitated, “here goes. I think there’s something dreadfully wrong here. I think that there’s something wrong with that so-called accident. I don’t believe that it was an accident. I think she was killed, murdered if you like,” Stephen blurted.

  “I don’t like any of it, Mister, period.” Clayton’s eyes narrowed in his fists clenched. “You’d better explain yourself, and quick.”

  “Just before her death she seemed awfully worried, no, even frightened about something or someone. I’ve never seen her so upset,” Stephen glanced nervously around.

  “You have any idea what was bothering her, or are you just guessing about all this?”

  “No sir, I have no idea at all. All I know for sure is that she was scared to death over something. She was afraid she was being followed. She told me that herself, two or three days before the crash that took her life.”

  “What have you done with this information?” Clayton asked, still on edge, his nerves as tight as a guitar string.

  “I’ve been to the police, but they are not interested. They’re convinced it was an accident. I went to the garage where the car was taken and looked at the car and talked to the main mechanic.”

  “And?” Clayton asked.

  “He said everything looked all right as far as he could tell. But you got to understand the car is just a burned-out piece of twisted metal. There is more dangerous than a simple car accident I’m just sure of it. I’m telling you that she was afraid for her life.”

  People are starting to stare at them because Stephen was starting to raise his voice a little too loud in his excitement.

  “It seems the police are satisfied with things Mr. Driscoll, but I’ll ask around anyway, just to satisfy myself that all is kosher and is what it seems.” Clayton smiled in an effort to lower the intensity.

  “That’s all I ask Mr. Crawford.” Stephen relaxed visibly. “Mr. Wellington is having a luncheon at his estate this afternoon and many of Michelle’s friends will be there. I’m going myself and I’ll introduce you to them if you like. You will see for yourself, they all say the same thing. They all agree that Michelle was afraid of something or someone. I tried to see Senator Harding but he won’t see me, too busy I guess.”

  “I saw the senator at the funeral, I did talk to him. He said nothing like this, what you’re saying. In my young friend, I think we are drawing some unwanted attention, so we’d better cut this short,” Clayton replied and with a half-smile still in place, he turned and walked away.

  He looked around for Frank and found him standing in a small group of men about his age. “Hey Clayton, glad you could join us,” Frank greeted him. “These are a few of my coughing friends.” He introduced Clayton around as they all shook hands.

  “You golf Mister Crawford?” One of them asked.

  “No I’m afraid not, I have little time for that. But I do manage to work out some.” He said as he glanced about the crowd, wanting to see if the senator came to the grave site, but he didn’t see him.

  “Say Frank, the city of Michelle’s friends here?” He asked.

  “No, they were here earlier. I’m afraid they all left. They came in a group, must have been five or six of them. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing important, just wondering.”

  “Too bad your golf,” the same man put in. “We can make for some.”

  “Too bad you don’t work out,” Clayton said and patted the man’s considerable paunch. Everyone laughed.

  Clayton turned to Frank, “I think I’ll be leaving now,” he said, “I’ll catch a cab back and see you back at the estate.”

  “Nonsense,” Frank replied. “Have Morris drive you back and I will catch a ride with one of my friends here.”

  And so it was. Clayton found more standing alongside the Rolls.

  “Well Morris, it’s just you and me, back home. And if you don’t mind I’d like to sit in the front seat.”

  “As you wish Mister Crawford.” Moore said, as he went to open Clayton store.

  “Oh no,” Clayton said, as he put up his hands to stop Morris. ”We will have none of that. It’s just you and me here now, and I think we can dispense with all this formality. Okay? I know how to open m
y own door and please comment Clayton.”

  “As you wish, Sir.”

  Clayton settled back in the passenger seat as the big sedan pulled smoothly away from the side of the curb and onto the road.

  “Tell me Morris, how long have you worked for Mister Wellington?” He asked in a casual voice.

  “I guess I worked for him all his life. I drove for his father you know. Martha and I came on a package deal you might say.”

  “How well do you know Frank’s son and daughter, his children?”

  Morris thought for a minute. “I guess I knew the boy, Eddie, better than the girl, Michelle. Eddie and I used to have some pretty long talks at times, especially when Mister Wellington was on one of his many business trips. It broke my heart when the boy was killed in Iraq during Desert Storm.”