A Thousand Yesteryears (13 page)

Not this again. He exhaled in frustration. “Mom, Maggie is gone.”

His mother shot him a sharp look from above her glasses. “That doesn’t mean she can’t talk to me.”

“Whatever.” He stood, knowing arguing would do no good. “Ryan will be home later tonight. I’ll get dinner started for you.” The kitchen would be an escape from discussions about Maggie.

His mother continued as if she hadn’t heard. “How else do you think I found out about the murder?”

Halfway from the room, he paused. Maybe someone had phoned to check up on her or shoot the breeze. She had plenty of friends in town, and Eve said word had spread about Amos’s death. That made far more sense than his dead sister communicating with her. Enough was enough.

“Mom, this has to stop.”

“She’s only trying to help, you know.”

Irritated, he scuffed a hand through his hair. Ryan handled these things far better than he did. His younger brother had patience he lacked. Then again, Ryan didn’t carry the burden of Maggie’s death. “All right. What did she say?”

“That you should go to the bunker and ask questions.”

“The bunker?”

“In the TNT. The one where the Mothman was seen.”

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

His mother set her knitting down and focused on him. Her gaze was direct, nothing clouded or hesitant to indicate fragility of mind. “Maggie said you know about the Mothman. From a Halloween night long ago and from when the bridge fell.”

Caden felt the color leave his face. He’d heard enough. Between the discussion he’d had with Eve and his mother’s crazy ramblings, he had to get away. Pivoting, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Even then the memories hounded him. But it wasn’t the Mothman he remembered. It was Maggie and the last moments they’d shared.

* * * *

“Are you cold?” Caden cranked the heat in the car, noting his sister sat slouched in the passenger’s seat, huddled into her jacket. She’d grown solemn, especially after his last minute detour to the gas station for a pack of Marlboros. He’d run into Wyatt Fisher and ended up bullshitting for fifteen minutes while Maggie waited in the Chevy.

“I just want to go home,” she said in a small voice.

His gut twisted. He thought was doing a good thing, getting her out of the house. For the last three days, she’d done nothing but hide in her bedroom, fearful the Mothman would steal her away if she ventured outside. She’d eaten little and broken into hysterics when her parents tried to force her into going to school. Doctor Pullman hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with her, only that something must have given her a terrible fright.

His parents had been at wits’ end not knowing what to do. Eventually, he’d managed to coax her from the house with the promise of helping her choose a Christmas gift for their mother and father. The holiday was only a little over a week away, and he wanted his sister to enjoy it. “I won’t let the Mothman or anything else harm you,” he’d vowed. He knew about the Mothman—more than most—and had no fear of the creature.

In Gallipolis they’d visited two stores before she settled on a keychain for their father and a pretty silver locket for their mother. After that she’d been ready to head home, growing increasingly anxious the closer it drew to sundown.

“It’s going to be dark soon,” she said.

“I told you I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”

Caden turned down the volume on the radio. The station had switched from Christmas songs to contemporary music, blaring “Never My Love” by The Association. He came to a stop in the middle of the Silver Bridge, swearing softly at the back-up unspooling in front of his Nova. Traffic had been crawling, but now it was at a standstill. He shouldn’t have stopped for the damn cigarettes. If he hadn’t made the detour, they’d probably be home already. He hoped his mom was making something hot for dinner. It was fricking freezing outside.

He peered through the windshield, noting how many birds had accumulated overhead. He’d never seen so many flying together this time of year. Normally they roosted on the bridge. It was almost as if they didn’t know where to land.

“Weird.” Two vehicles ahead of him, a tractor-trailer rolled forward a few feet before stopping. Caden inched closer, then hit the brakes. “Damn. I can’t see shit with that truck in the way.”

“You shouldn’t swear,” Maggie said.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. At least not in front of you.” He grinned. “I’m glad you went out with me. Maybe tomorrow you’ll go somewhere with Mom and Dad.”

She looked down at the bag on her lap that contained brightly colored packages inside. The clerk at the store had wrapped both gifts in festive red and green paper, a sight that had made her smile. He wished she’d smile more.

“I don’t like going outside,” she whispered. “He’s outside.”

“The Mothman?”

She nodded, but kept her head down. “I was so scared Caden. I think he wanted to kill me.”

He frowned, wondering if he should confide in her about his own experience. Maybe telling her about what happened to him at the TNT over Halloween might lessen her fear.

No.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. It was better to pretend the creature was a myth. Myths had no power to harm.

On the radio The Association continued their melodic song about eternal love.

“No one’s going to hurt you, Maggie, but you have to let go of this—” A strange tremor buffeted the car. It felt as if the bridge shifted. “
My God!”

The tall rocker towers on either side of the bridge swayed with a sickening lurch, and the headlights in his rearview mirror dropped abruptly into empty space. One second there, the next gone. Someone screamed, igniting a bone-chilling chorus of frantic cries. A sound like metal grinding against metal exploded in his head. Beside him, Maggie let out an ear-piercing shriek, but he only had time to gulp a breath before the world fell away.

Lillian Layton was not at all as Eve expected. Perhaps it was the lilt of her name, conjuring images of a singer or stage actress, but she had anticipated a striking, stylish woman. Rather, the woman who met with her the next day at the Parrish Hotel was understated, plain in appearance. She wore no make-up and had secured her graying blond hair in a tight bun. A sensible button blouse and baggy slacks hung shapelessly on her stick-thin figure. Seated across from Eve, she perched primly on the edge of her chair and held her handbag—square brown leather—like a shield on her lap. Her nails were chewed to the quick.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” she said.

“It’s certainly not a problem, Mrs. Layton. I was planning on contacting you next week to make sure I was familiar with everything you’d like for your husband’s birthday celebration.” She smiled warmly, trying to ease the stilted air. The woman reminded her of a stereotypical church lady who didn’t have time for shenanigans. “Fifty is a big one.”

“Yes, well…” Mrs. Layton’s gaze flicked away briefly. “I appreciate your time nonetheless. I know it must be difficult after your aunt’s passing. And please, call me Lillian.”

“Thank you. I’m fine with Eve as well.”

“Do you remember my husband?”

“Vaguely.” An image of Roger Layton flashed into her mind as she recalled the words her father had penned to her mother—
I don’t like him.
Something must have happened to change Aunt Rosie’s opinion of him, too. Why else would she end their relationship? “I know my aunt was engaged to him for a time.”

“Yes.” Lillian’s mouth puckered in displeasure, but she didn’t comment further. Rather, she took a sip of the coffee Eve had offered earlier, pausing briefly before returning the cup to its saucer. “Roger is well thought of in Point Pleasant,” she ventured at last. “My family owns the bank, and he operates it as Vice President. I thought it was fitting his birthday be celebrated in style.”

Interesting. He’d gone from a dockworker when Aunt Rosie had known him to a bank VP. That was definitely a step up in position. “Is it a surprise?”

“Oh dear, no.” Lillian parted with a fluty laugh. “Roger expects the hoopla and would have it no other way. My husband enjoys being the center of attention. Fortunately, he’s permitted me to handle all of the preparations. I wanted to talk to you about the menu.”

“Of course.” Eve had been prepared for that and removed the banquet order from a file on her desk. “You requested a pasta buffet with lasagna, spinach tortellini, and meatballs. We’ll include the usual sides—salads, several breads, and antipasto, as well as a dessert bar.” She ran a finger down the page. “I see you also requested hot hors d’oeuvres and an open bar.”

“Yes.” Lillian shifted, clutching her handbag more tightly. “I’ve been rethinking the menu, however, and would like to switch to a split entrée if the option is still available.”

“Certainly.” It would mean securing more servers since the menu would switch to a sit-down dinner, but the pricing on entrees was higher and the hotel could use the revenue. There was also the up-charge for a split entrée which would help defer the cost of the additional staff. “Would you like to see a banquet menu or did you have something in mind?”

Lillian opened her purse and withdrew several creased sheets of paper. “Rosalind gave these to me earlier.” Unfolding them, she read from the printed list. “I’ve already reviewed them and would like to go with the prime rib and stuffed chicken breast. Greek, for the salad, I think, and I’d like to add a bottle of your middle-shelf Merlot and Riesling to each table.”

Eve scribbled notes as the woman rattled off the list of changes. She’d have to get with Katie and her kitchen manager to make certain everything was ordered in plenty of time. The event would test their resources. The idea of leaving Katie to handle it alone while she was in Harrisburg suddenly felt like a cop-out. Maybe there was a way she could extend her stay through the end of the month.

Returning her attention to the events folder, she flipped through several pages. “The changes won’t be a problem. The only thing I seem to be missing is a count, which you can supply later, and a final on centerpieces for the tables. Will you be providing floral arrangements or would you like us to handle that?”

“I’ll have the town florist deliver them that afternoon. Yellow carnations.” She smiled slightly and returned the papers to her purse. “They’re my favorite.”

That was interesting. Someone had put yellow carnations on Aunt Rosie’s grave. “And the band?”

“Someone should be in touch with you early next week, if not today. I believe they’ll need to be in around noon to set-up their equipment. That should cover everything.” She stood abruptly, ending the meeting, and extended her hand. “Thank you again for seeing me on such short notice.”

A little taken aback by the swiftness with which she’d concluded things, Eve stood as well. Lillian’s handshake was firm, a match for her no-nonsense personality. “It was good to meet you.”

“And you. I’d stay longer, but my son is waiting for me in the lobby. I promised I’d take him to a matinee at the Crowne Theater.” Her face softened at the mention of her son. So different from the stiff business demeanor she’d displayed while discussing her husband’s birthday celebration. There’d been no glimmer of anticipation or excitement over the party in her voice. How odd.

“I’ll walk you to the lobby.”

Stepping from the office, Eve spied a thin boy seated on the couch in front of the windows, a book open on his lap. When he spied his mother behind Eve, he immediately scrambled to his feet.

“Ready, Mom?” His expression was eager as he raced across the lobby.

“In a minute. Jeremy say hello to Miss Parrish.”

“Hello, Miss Parrish.” The boy smiled politely. He had the same straw-colored hair as his mother, his eyes a darker blue. Eve guessed his age around twelve, though there was something about him that made him seem older. A seriousness in his expression and the way he carried himself. “Mom’s taking me to see
Raiders of the Lost Ark.
I never get tired of it.”

“That sounds like fun.” She’d seen the movie last year when it was originally released and had noticed the Crowne Theater was rerunning it as a matinee. “I hope you both enjoy yourself.”

Lillian turned to face her. “Please don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything else you need in relation to Roger’s party.”

“I’ll do that.” Eve walked them to the door, then said goodbye. When she turned back into the lobby, Katie stood behind the reception counter, shaking her head.

“What?” Eve asked.

“You’ve met the ice queen.”

Eve crossed to the counter. “She didn’t seem that bad. Just…” She searched for the right word. “Serious.”

“Stiff,” Katie corrected. “If she cracked a smile, her face would split.”

“I take it you don’t like her.”

Katie shrugged indifferently. “Let’s just say she doesn’t have a high opinion of me. I’ll be glad when her husband’s birthday bash is over.”

“Well, she just switched the order from a buffet to a split entrée, and I need to talk to you about the changes. Let’s chat out here. It’s nicer than my office. I’ll get the paperwork.” She started to turn away, then stopped. “I forgot to ask…did you hear from your mom today?”

Amos Carter’s murder had made the front page of the
Point Pleasant Herald
and was the talk of the town.

Katie nodded. “She’s doing as well as can be expected, holed up at home with a box of tissues and a carton of cigarettes. I’m trying to be sympathetic, but I don’t know why she loved Amos so much when he cheated on her and beat her up.”

Eve flinched. She couldn’t imagine any woman staying with a man who treated her so horrendously.

“I think she just liked the security of having a man around,” Katie said with a disgusted shake of her head. “As if she can’t make a go of it on her own. My mom’s always been that way. She needs a man in her life, but somehow she always manages to attract the ones who treat her like dirt.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, or your problem.” Katie often came bluntly to the point. “I’d rather forget about it and concentrate on the changes Mrs. Layton wants.”