Castle Cay (8 page)

She couldn’t bear the frightened look on his
face. She hugged him tightly to her. “It’s all right, Marc. I
won’t. I promise.”

“
Solemn promise?”

“
Solemn Promise.”

Julie stood and put a tip on the table,
leaving her unfinished coffee and paper behind. She was ready for
Marc’s wake now.

* * * * *

S
kirting limo drivers and furtive
smokers, Julie climbed the stairs of the stately Woodland Memorial
Funeral Home. She found Marc’s room, the main salon. It was filled
to capacity with roses and mourners.

Pete and Joan were already there. They were
standing with a small group, talking quietly. Julie signed the
guest book, and nodded to them, indicating that she was going to
see Marc. On her way to the casket through the center of the room,
she noticed the Solomons were seated on the left, near the front.
She would go there, afterward.

It wasn’t as horrifying as Julie had feared.
The lifeless body didn’t look like Marc. In truth, it
wasn’t
him. Marc was in God’s hands now. Julie closed her eyes and knelt
beside the coffin. Tears welled, but quickly dissipated, as intense
anger trumped grief. At that moment, Julie made her last and most
solemn promise to her friend.

I know you didn’t do this, Marc. I won’t let
them say you did, my dear friend. Someone else did this…and I’m
going to find them. I’m going to make them pay.

Julie rose, and walked over to the family.
Marc’s brother, Avram, rose to greet her. He was darkly handsome
and taller than she’d remembered.

“Avram, I’m so sorry about Marc.”

“Julie. Thank you for coming all the way from
Florida,” he said, holding her hand in both of his. “That was nice
of you. It would have meant a lot to Marc.”

Nice of me? Surely he knows how close we
were? And he’s holding my hand in both of his, a politician’s
grip.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, “I was just
down to see them. Marc mentioned that he’d been talking with you
recently?”

“Yes…just some business matters…on the
phone”.

He hesitated and added the bit about the
phone; the corners of his mouth are drawn down, too, a negative
expression.

“He looked well to me, Avram. How was he when
you talked to him?”

“He seemed fine, Julie.” He brushed some hair
off his brow. “I guess that’s why this whole thing has been such a
terrible blow.”

He touched his forehead. He’s looking in my
eyes, but not blinking. His face doesn’t match his words. For
whatever reason, he’s lying.

“Yes. An awful shock,” she said.

It was obvious to Julie that Avram wasn’t
grieving. Of course, there was a simple explanation for that. He
and Marc didn’t get along. Avram could simply be happy to be rid of
Marc. It would be natural for him to try to hide that in this
circumstance.

Is that what I’m picking up? But the
handshake was an over-the-top attempt to appear genuine. I’d like
to know if he visited Key West recently.

She moved along the reception line to Marc’s
father, who was seated next to Avram. The man was a shell of
himself, no longer recognizable as the dominant person who had once
been her employer.

“Hello, Milton,” she said, shaking his hand.
“You may not remember me; I’m Julie O’Hara. I used to work at the
dealership. Marc was a dear friend. I’m very sorry for your
loss.”

“Hello, Julie,” he said. “Of course I
remember you. I went to your wedding.” A deep melancholy overtook
him. “Marc never got married; he never had children.”

Her heart went out to him in his grief, and
she attempted to cheer him with a positive thought.

“There are a lot of young people here. Are
they nieces and nephews?”

“They’re all Castles, not Solomons. Unless
Avram gets married, there won’t be any more Solomons.”

“Castles?”

“Miriam’s family,” he said.

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

Julie didn’t recall Marc ever mentioning his
mother’s maiden name. Suddenly, Castle Cay came to mind and she
realized that it must have belonged to Miriam. She had always
thought the name came from the towering ridge.

Who owns it now? Did she leave it to
Marc?

Giving the old man’s hand a gentle squeeze,
she said. “Take care, Milton.”

Julie turned and crossed the room to join
Pete and Joan. “Hi. Have either of you seen David Harris?”

“I just met him, Julie. He’s over there,”
said Pete, nodding to an area not far from them.

It was easy to spot David with his
collar-length light blond hair. He had the same slim build as Mark.
As usual, he was dressed perfectly for the occasion. He was
standing in a group with Susan Dwyer, Marc’s agent and co-owner of
the Sandpiper Gallery in Key West. Julie asked the Soldanos to
excuse her and went over to see him.

David saw her approaching. He turned and came
toward her with his arms outstretched. His eyes were red, his face
streaked with tears.

“Oh, Julie, what am I going to do? How can I
live without him?”

She hugged him tightly, tears coming to her
own eyes. “I’m so sorry, David. I don’t know what to say; I hate
that he’s gone, too.”

“I know it was hard for him to bear
sometimes,” said David, “but he said he’d learned to live with
it.”

Julie knew he was speaking of Marc’s illness,
AIDS, the specter of which threatened all the gay community,
including David, himself. Nevertheless, as much empathy as she had
for him, Julie remembered her promise to Marc.

“I tried to call you several times,
David.”

“I’m sorry, Julie. I couldn’t handle all the
press and the crank calls; I just stopped answering the phone. I
didn’t even check the messages after awhile.”

“You were together the night before?”

“Yes, we had dinner with friends, Susan and
Rolly. They left around ten-thirty.”

“How was Marc that night?”

“He was fine, just tired. After they went
home, we said goodnight and he went to his room. You know we have
our own rooms now.”

Julie noticed that David had momentarily
slipped into the present tense, as grieving people often do.

“I never got up during the night,” he said.
“I usually do, but we finished off a whole decanter of wine and I
slept right through ‘til eight the next morning. That’s when I went
in. That’s when I saw him.” He closed his eyes. “Oh God, I can’t
bear this!”

He normally gets up during the night, but not
that night?

Julie hugged him and silently asked herself
if he was being more dramatic than usual
.
She held him at
arms length and looked in his eyes. “David. Do you know what the
Florida papers are saying? What they’ve been implying?”

“Of course I do!” he said. “All the questions
they asked me? But, Julie, I had nothing to do with it!” He began
to cry again. “Oh, how could Marc
do
this?”

“David. Maybe he didn’t do it. You said you
were sleeping very soundly. Does anyone else have a key to the
house?”

“No. No one,” he said, blowing his nose, a
picture of misery. “Just Marc and I.” Julie knew how hard it was to
fake sadness. She decided that David’s demeanor was wholly
consistent with the sensitive, emotional person she knew him to
be.

“For now, we may just have to accept that
he’s gone and leave the rest for later,” she said. “I’m concerned
about
you
, though, David; about all this notoriety. I have a
friend who’s worked with an attorney, Jake Goldman. His office is
in the Keys. He said he’d represent you if you need him. Do you
know who he is?”

“I think I’ve heard of him,” said David,
unconsciously raising his hand, biting a nail. “I’ve been wondering
if I should get a lawyer. Would it look bad, do you think?”

Julie could see that David was anxious, but
she also noted that he displayed no signs of manipulation or
deception.

It was a relief.

“Forget about that,” she said, concerned for
him. “It’s a good idea for you to protect yourself, even if it’s
just to put someone between you and the press.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Another thing, David; I was thinking that,
if you don’t mind, I’d like to come to Key West to stay with you
for a little while. Would that be all right?”

“Oh, heavens, yes…thank you, Julie. I’m so
glad you’re coming!”

He looked as lost as an abandoned puppy.
Julie squeezed his hand, and smiled. “I’ll see you soon,” she said
and kissed his cheek before leaving him.

•

Pete and Joan were talking to some friends
from Solomon Chrysler when she returned.

“Julie. It’s so nice to see you after all
this time. Sorry it has to be for this,” said a petite, gray haired
woman.

It took Julie a moment to recognize Laura
Bennett. “Hello, Laura,” she said. “Yes. It’s horrible.”

“Seems like we just see each other at
funerals,” said Laura. Realizing her faux pas at once, she put her
hand to her mouth and said, “Oh,
my
. I’m so sorry, Julie! I
didn’t mean to bring up the past.”

“It’s okay, Laura,” she said, taking her
hand. “It was a long time ago.”

After a little more visiting, they said their
goodbyes and left for their individual cars. As Julie climbed into
the Malibu and pulled in behind Pete and Joan to head back to their
house, she reflected on several things she had learned at the wake.
But she was bone-weary, and there was still a burial tomorrow. So,
for tonight, she decided, there would be no more questions.

•

Everyone was in a somber mood the next
morning. Even Paul and Pete, Jr. were quiet. Julie tried to talk to
them a bit about school, but she mostly got one-word answers.
Ah, well
, she thought,
I’m actually a stranger to these
boys.

Julie drove Pete and Joan in the Malibu, and
they joined the cortege at the funeral home. As they slowly moved
out in the long line of cars, she regretted that she hadn’t spoken
with any of the Castle family.

“I never met any of Miriam’s side of the
family, the Castles. Do you know them? Did either of you speak to
any of them?”

“Yeah,” said Pete. “Miriam’s younger brother,
Matt, was there.”

“Oh, yes,” said Julie, who remembered Marc
speaking of his ‘Uncle Matt’.

“I talked to him,” said Pete. “He was all
broken up; they were close. He said Marc had called him and they’d
talked just recently. Matt’s partner, Tom Connor, was with him, but
I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. Tom’s a real nice guy; never
married, so no kids. He was like an uncle to Marc, too.”

“Yes, that’s right. He was at Marc’s Newbury
Street show,” said Joan, nodding. “I saw Matt’s wife at the wake,
Julie. She was there with the older children. We said ‘hi’, but we
didn’t actually talk.”

Those were the nieces and nephews Milton
Solomon referred to, thought Julie.

Finally, they arrived at the gravesite and
took their places around the casket. The service was more difficult
to bear than Julie had expected. She tried hard not to cry, but, in
the end, she couldn’t help herself.

Only two other people were crying
unabashedly, she noticed. One was David Harris. Julie didn’t
recognize the other person, an older man. The same man had appeared
stricken at the wake the day before. She recalled that the Castle
family had seemed to surround him. Now that she thought about
it…they seemed to be comforting him.

He looks a lot like Marc.

She glanced from the man to Pete, a
questioning look on her face.

Pete leaned over and whispered. “Tom Connor,
Matt Castle’s law partner.”

* * * * *

J
oan had prepared a light and easy
Italian dinner, and now the three of them sat in the living room
before the fireplace, finishing their wine while the boys played a
video game in the den.

Julie was mulling over Joan’s earlier account
of her job as payroll manager at Solomon Chrysler, especially
Avram’s nasty, unwarranted rebuke to a perfectly sensible
suggestion. Not that Pete didn’t deserve it, but the timing of his
promotion to GM in Lynn was bothering Julie, because it had also
removed Joan from the payroll department.

“Joannie, I was wondering…while you were
there, was anything else going on at the Boston dealership that
struck you as odd?”

“No, not that I can think of,” said Joan.
“Avram was just so arrogant, you know?”

“I can think of somethin’,” said Pete.
“Milton Solomon was a sharp car dealer. He was a negotiator. He
came up from
sales
, you know? Avram, on the other hand,
doesn’t know his ass from his elbow when it comes to this business.
He’s a friggin’ bean counter, and a lousy one!”

“Pete, quiet down…the boys will hear you,”
said Joan.

“Okay. Sorry,” said Pete, lowering his voice.
“It just burns me that Avram makes all the decisions.”

“What happened to Milton Solomon?” asked
Julie.

“He comes in every once in a while, but
Avram’s in charge. The ol’ man thinks Avram’s a genius. What a
joke! Avram does the stupidest things I’ve ever seen! I don’t know
about the other two stores, but there’s barely any profit in mine
because of that…jerk. Our costs for advertising, uniforms, wiper
rags, floor mats, parts, paint…you name it…is sky high! And I can’t
do a thing about it; it’s all handled by Avram in the Boston
store.”

“How long has that been going on?”

“For years,” said Pete. “Not that
he
isn’t rollin’ in dough. And he likes to throw it around, too.
Women, gamblin’, a goddamn Jaguar! That’s right. He doesn’t even
drive one of our cars.

“He isn’t foolin’ me with all his society
connections and charity shit. We’ve expanded from one store to
three, and I can’t see where the money came from to do it. I
wouldn’t be surprised if we were washin’ more than cars.”