The Pearl Dagger

by L. A. Chandlar

  After many guests had left, he went to say his farewells and head toward the city, shipping out early the next morning for the States. He hugged his parents, trying to say with his eyes all the things he hadn’t been able to say out loud. He even hugged his brother and clapped him on the back, telling him he was a lucky man and that he was very happy for him. He only got a smile in return that resembled a sneer more than something friendly or loving. Gwen, Sean’s wife, was the only one he felt had returned his genuine goodwill.

  Finn got into his car and headed out toward the city. The cool night was a balm to his troubled spirit. The scent of wood smoke and the earthy, grassy notes of the evening air made him feel grounded. It felt good to be alone, quiet, released from the endless small talk. He loosened his tie. He tried to begin letting go of what lay behind him and look forward to the new adventure ahead.

  It had been extremely difficult living for years in the wake of the chaos his brother created in everything he touched. From twisting innocent words in even the most benign conversations, making other people look foolish or guilty, to using people to get higher up the ladder in his company and then tossing them aside when he was done with them. Sean would ruthlessly do whatever it took, no matter the cost, to get what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. Why couldn’t anyone else see it?

  There was something inside of Finn that yearned for justice and was driven mad when his own parents turned a blind eye to Sean’s maneuvering. Maybe that was what made it so much easier deciding to leave his family. To do something that would make a difference. He wondered what it would be like living in the States. He had a lot to learn, but he always loved a challenge. A new beginning. That’s what he had before him and he enjoyed a frisson of excitement at the potential and possibility ahead.

  Just as he was passing an old farmhouse on a lonely stretch of road, the engine started clunking. Damn, he thought, what now? He looked down, astonished to see the gas gauge on empty. He had just filled the tank a day or two ago. Maybe there was a leak, or maybe someone borrowed his car. The family often borrowed each other’s cars to do errands. He kicked himself for not checking the gauge before he left the house. He got out of the car, went to the trunk, and pulled out the gas can. Certainly, the farm would have some extra petrol. He closed the trunk with a slam and looked around. The lone screech of an owl pierced through the night and he heard the thump of capture that made a prickle of unease run up his spine. Rubbing the back of his neck while shaking his head at his predicament, he heard a car coming down the lane. Maybe it was someone from the party and he could get a lift.

  Surprisingly, the car didn’t have its headlights on. As it drew near, Finn waved his arms, trying to flag it down. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. His stomach plummeted. The car was his brother’s. A nearby light in the road illuminated the driver for a split second as the car was just about upon him. Sean was at the wheel, smiling his hateful, arrogant sneer. He’d slowed as if he was coming to a stop. Then he hit the gas.

  CHAPTER 17

  “My God, Finn.”

  “Can you lighten up on the death grip, love?” I was clenching his hand as the story had gone from bad to worse.

  “Sorry,” I said as he smiled while he massaged his hand. I had a pretty good grip. “What happened next?”

  A look of pain furrowed his brow, making me ache for him. “Well, he could’ve killed me, but I managed to dodge a little out of the way. But the car hit my left leg and tossed me into the air. I woke up in the hospital. My fractured knee was the worst, but I was pretty beat up.”

  “How’d you get to the hospital?” I asked, cocking my brow. Quite honestly, I was surprised Sean hadn’t finished him off.

  “Yeah. Wondering why he didn’t finish me off?” I almost spilled my wine.

  We were enjoying our wordplay, but I was serious. Someone must have intervened; Sean certainly didn’t suddenly get a conscience and get Finn some help. “Finn. He could’ve killed you.”

  “Most definitely. I owe it all—everything—to my grandma Vivian. She had followed Sean, in her own car.”

  “She had her own car?” I blurted out.

  “Yes, she was always independent. Beyond independent. She had been widowed when my mother was just a child. But her father had secured her future, so she had her own money. Not a fortune, but she wouldn’t have to worry. And she was a writer. She worked for a local paper and wrote and published some work. You’ll love her, Lane.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her. So . . . you left off with her intervening somehow,” I urged.

  “Yes. She had followed him, thinking it oddly coincidental that I had just left and Sean then quickly following, leaving his own wedding party. She found us at the accident but Sean had made up an elaborate lie about coming across the scene. How he had followed me because, and I quote, ‘You know how Finn is, I wanted to be sure he was all right.’”

  “Whattaya mean, you know how Finn is? What did he mean by that?”

  “Shhhh. You’re yelling.”

  I slowly took my hands off my hips, which had shot there in indignation.

  “Well . . . let me start with when I woke up. Grandma Viv was there, holding my hand. As soon as I had opened my eyes, she smiled the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. Everything hurt. I had been out cold all night and most of the next day, which was good because they had to reset my knee and I had a lot of stitches. I knew I’d missed my ship to America. And when I saw my knee, I worried I might have missed my new life altogether.

  “She explained my injuries. They had some doubts that I’d be able to get back to normal, even walking wasn’t a given, but she was a fierce cheerleader. She didn’t believe that for a second. And she wouldn’t let me believe it, either.”

  “But where were your parents?” I asked.

  “They never came.”

  I don’t think I’d ever heard three sadder words. I was at a loss for what to say. What kind of parents could do that?

  He quickly went on, “Well . . . I learned from Viv, who had put it all together, that Sean had been convincing them for a long time that I had a drinking problem and that perhaps I had some mental incapacities. He’d make up stories that had a kernel of truth to them. He’d even managed to work out a story about that being the reason that I was going to America; that Scotland Yard had dismissed me, not that it had anything to do with my Irish background.”

  “And that’s why Gwen and her friends were treating you as if you weren’t the sharpest knife in the drawer,” I said.

  “Exactly,” he said, nodding. “Everyone seemed to buy it. And as far as my parents were concerned, this was the final straw. That I could have done this on Sean’s wedding day was an outrage. They believed him hook, line, and sinker.

  “There was probably evidence of Sean’s intentional deception, maybe tread marks in the road, Viv remembers seeing a dent in the hood, that sort of thing. But because Grandma had arrived and directed Sean to put me into her car so she could race me to the hospital, he must’ve had the time to fix it all because his car was in perfect shape when she took a look at it a day or two later. Vivian tried to talk to my parents about the fact that she didn’t smell alcohol on my breath, Sean’s lie that I’d been drinking and ran out of gas and stumbled into the road, getting hit by some passing vehicle, couldn’t possibly be true. But it was no use.

  “He’s dangerous. But she’s a genius. She played dumb with Sean, thank God. She could have been in danger, too. If he did that to me, he could have hurt her. But she talked up how wonderful it was that he came upon me on the side of the road.”

  “Smart lady.”

  “Oh yeah. So while talking with my parents was out of the question, she did speak with a detective. Detective Marlowe. But I was worried. Sean is an opportunist; he calculates the worth of someone or their reach or their political clout and works to manipulate them into a corner. A corner that can serve him well. Even when we were kids, he’d find people who could be bought or blackmailed into sub
mission. He liked having a safety net, he’d say. That you never knew when the local bully, or a weak kid whose parents were powerful, or the grocer whom he caught shortchanging a customer . . . might come in handy to have on his side. So I wondered if he had any police in his pocket. I didn’t know who was safe at this point and who was compromised.

  “But Marlowe believed my story, and he believed Viv. He came to see me and we talked further. Sometimes, people don’t believe you about family issues like that, unless they’ve faced it themselves. Detective Marlowe’s face had said it all: He had known someone devious like Sean himself.

  “Marlowe followed Sean around for a few days and he was one of the few people who could see right through Sean’s charm. They couldn’t pin him for running the car into me, but he believed he was capable of that. Lane, it was such a relief to have someone see it. Vivian told me she had always seen through Sean, too. The charm had never worked on her. She tried talking with my mother, but . . . my mother isn’t like you and Viv. She’s . . .”

  “Cold,” I said with a don’t-take-this-the-wrong-way grimace.

  “That’s one word for it,” he laughed. “She’s not . . . it’s like she’s not engaged in a conversation. She’s been dimmed down. I think it’s a real mystery—a sad one—for Vivian. She just can’t figure out how her own daughter turned out so utterly different.”

  I added, “Especially one named Polly. I haven’t met anyone less Pollyanna.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Our dinner arrived, a simple roast chicken with vegetables. It was homey, fragrant, and delicious. Just the simple pleasure we needed. We took a break from the heavy topic and enjoyed the meal for a bit.

  When we finished up, I asked him, “So how long did the recovery take?”

  “Oh, several months. It was excruciating those first weeks. Then it just took hard work. Grandma Viv was relentless and had me exercising as much as I could endure. My parents had cut me off at that point. So I moved in with her and we worked together all day on my rehabilitation. She never once wavered in her support. I wanted to give up a couple of times. But that was not going to happen. Not with her in charge. And you know,” he said, as he thoughtfully poured the last drops of the wine into our glasses, “there was a relief in having the charade over and done with. It was a different way than I had ever imagined to reach my dreams and desires, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but it was a better way. A new, honest way.”

  I tilted my head in thought. “Remember when we were in Michigan, at my family home, and I couldn’t climb my old tree anymore? You helped me. Do you remember what you said?”

  His eyes crinkled with happiness and he replied, “I said you needed a new way.”

  “And you helped me figure it out.”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “That’s why you knew what I needed. You had needed a new way once, too.”

  “That I did, love.” He finished his wine. Then he smiled wolfishly at me. “And I also remember how that night ended.”

  “Oh, so do I.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The next day, Finn walked along, taking his time on the way to meet Lane after she visited a few shops. He had a lot to think about and appreciated some time alone to walk and ruminate. Seeing his father again after all those years and knowing he was deathly ill . . . it gave him pause. He supposed that even when parents were not healthy or uplifting, there was a bond there. He kept striving to feel more for them. There should be more, shouldn’t there? But his mother was cold, Lane was right, and his father was his same old disappointed dad. It made his face flush in annoyance just thinking about it.

  Gwen was at least the same, genuine and just nice. He still wondered how she could end up with them all. He also wondered when he’d have to face Sean. Finn hadn’t seen him since he glimpsed his arrogant face at the wheel just as he was about to plow into him, head-on.

  After his talk with Lane about his mother the night before and the fact that his mother seemed dimmed down somehow, he couldn’t stop thinking about that fact.

  Finn walked toward the Thames, just below London Bridge. He and Lane were going to do a few touristy things and she wanted to see the bridge. She also had a list a mile long to see the Art Deco buildings she favored. Big Ben? Sure, she’d love that. But she really wanted to see the Daily Express building with its black and glass front with smooth corners and glossy finishes. The newspaper headquarters was only about four years old.

  He loved this walk. Every city had its own personality, and outside of his family issues, he was pleased to discover an old love for London. At one point, he’d hated this city. He’d hated the discrimination against his Irish roots and the fact that London had come to represent Sean and their parents. His father had been boorish, but what he loathed more was his lackluster mother. What was that word Lane hated? Oh, yeah, hapless. His mother was hapless.

  He chuckled at the memory of Lane chatting about hating that word. She was so funny. Maybe that was what attracted him to her the most: she was the opposite of hapless. And endlessly unpredictable.

  Which was a timely thought as he approached her. She didn’t see him coming; her back was to him as she was facing the river. What on earth is she doing? She had her hands on the railing looking out. But then she suddenly slammed her purse to the ground. He was about a hundred feet away now.

  She kicked off her shoes and hiked her skirt pretty damn far up her thighs. Holy shit. He walked a little faster. And then she unhooked one side, then the other garter and took off her silk stockings right then and there. She had a few curious onlookers. One older gentleman walked into a lamppost and an old nanny made tsk tsk noises as she walked past with her perambulator. Then Lane pulled her skirt properly down, balled up the offensive pieces, and with an angry grunt launched them right into the Thames.

  He came up to the railing, mirroring her relaxed hands now resting on the railing as she looked serenely at the river traffic.

  “What are you doing, love?” She looked up at him, a large, unrepentant smile on her face. Her blue-green eyes lit up with the brilliance of the sun shining into them.

  “I threw my stockings away.”

  “Into the Thames.”

  “Into the Thames,” she echoed. “I’d worn them too long and they’d stretched. I’d been fighting them sliding down all morning. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “And you needed to remedy the situation immediately.”

  “Exactly.” Her eyes were sparking with amusement, daring him to disagree.

  “Well? With that taken care of, shall we?” She nodded smartly as he aimed her in the right direction for their tour. Arm in arm, they marched off to see the sights.

  CHAPTER 19

  After the tour of London Bridge we went to a few sites including my favorite Art Deco ones like the zippy, black-and-white Chez-Cup cocktail bar situated in the Regent Palace Hotel. Afterward we headed to the appointment that we had to postpone the night before.

  It was a little chilly out, but I looked forward to meeting Finn’s grandmother for the first time, which warmed me with anticipation. Vivian sounded like someone I would like. But after meeting his lackluster mother and hearing about Sean’s monumental deception, she became exceptionally interesting. I could understand why Vivian was dismayed at how her own daughter, Finn’s mother, turned out so bland.

  I’d heard that Gwen had been visiting Vivian when Finn last visited London. If Viv could see through Sean’s deceptive personality, could she see through Gwen’s? I was pretty sure Finn still thought Gwen was an unwilling participant in Sean’s affairs. Maybe. But I read a lot in her face. To be clueless about Sean, she’d have to be naïve or obtuse. She was neither. I hoped Vivian would be a savvy ally.

  We took a cab to Vivian’s nursing home. It looked like it could use some updating, but was clean and friendly. We found her out in the wintery garden. London was so rainy, though, that the garden was a bit greener than what we’d left behind in New York. And t
here was no snow on the ground, so the little walkway around the garden path was clear for the inhabitants. There were little benches scattered all around, climbing rose branches promising luscious blooms, old wisteria trees that held the memory of summer days, and the crunch of old leaves with their earthy scent. It made me think of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden.

  A spry woman, about my height, leaped off a bench and with a long, lively gait just about sprinted over to us.

  “Finn! How lovely.” She embraced Finn with a hearty hug, peering at me over his shoulder and winking. Her dark blue eyes radiated with mirth. Oh, I do like her already, I thought.

  “Mammo. So good to see you! Looking chipper as ever, I see,” said Finn, releasing her.

  “Oh yes,” she replied. “Feeling quite good today. And this must be Lane. Delightful to meet you, my dear.”

  I took her warm hand in mine and pulled her in for an unexpected hug. I knew Brits didn’t hug quite as much as Americans, but she’d just have to put up with it. “Vivian! I’m so happy to meet you.”

  She might have been surprised, but she embraced me just as fully as she had Finn. “My dear,” she said quietly in my ear, “we shall be good friends.”

  “Absolutely,” I whispered back.

  She released me and looked at Finn and then at me, brazenly appraising us as only grandmothers can do. Finn had put his arm around my shoulders and we smiled at her.

  Satisfied, she exclaimed, “Come! Let’s have a spot of tea, shall we? I’d like to warm up. Lane, my dear! Where are your stockings?”

  “In the Thames,” I replied as Finn held the door for us both.

  “I see.”

  When we got back to her room, I discovered it was a suite of rooms. The building had been an old Victorian mansion that was absolutely sprawling. She had her own rooms with a little living area. A tea service was already set out and she carefully poured for us. I asked for a little milk and one lump of sugar.