Family Matters (15 page)

Gracie laughed, “I guess I get on my high horse when I’m talking about my family. They mostly drive me crazy.”

“Your parents are pretty laid back people and so is your brother.”

“Yeah, well, they are, but the rest of my mother’s family, the zillion cousins in Wyoming and Allegany Counties
, are all a little different, and Isabelle has always had my number.”

“Isabelle has always had everybody’s number.”

“She
is
a piece of work. She’s even trying to implicate me in my Uncle Stan’s death.”

“You’re kidding. What’s she doing?”

“She’s been feeding bits of half-truths to the investigator, who keeps coming back to ask me a few more questions.”

“I thought it was ruled an accident, from what my parents just said.”

“Since Isabelle has been so upset by the Charlotte papers and now with the stunt she’s pulling with the police, I’m beginning to think there’s more to everything than meets the eye.”

“You can’t think that Isabelle
—”

Gracie interrupted, “I don’t know what to think, but I do know I need to get to the bottom of what happened to Charlotte. Uncle Stan felt it was important enough to entrust this information to me and not Isabelle, so I have an obligation to him and Charlotte to figure it out. Maybe it wasn’t an accident for Charlotte, and maybe it wasn’t an accident for Uncle Stan. It’s pretty strange that he’s at the bottom of the stairs the day I stop in to see him about Char’s papers. The sheriff’s department is still investigating his death.”

“Wow, Gracie, I don’t know about all of this. Those are serious accusations.” Matthew stretched his long legs out and flexed his left knee a couple of times.

“Everybody else thinks I’m overreacting, but maybe there’s more to Charlotte’s death than a hit-and-run driver. That’s why I’m hoping you can help unravel what happened that night with Charlotte.”

“I’ve told you what I know, Gracie. I couldn’t say who Char was dating, and I didn’t know she was pregnant. She didn’t confide in me like a girlfriend. Maybe her friends knew, but I don’t know what difference that would make after all these years.”

Gracie could feel Matthew’s exasperation.

“I’m sorry, Matt. I know it’s something you don’t want to think about. Believe me, I understand.”

“I know, Gracie, and I’m sorry about that. You must still be dealing with stuff yourself. You’ve experienced a lot of personal loss. It’s understandable.”

“It’s better than it used to be, but Charlotte and Uncle Stan don’t have anything to do with Michael or the baby.”

People forgot that she lost the two people she loved most in the world
. The tiny baby wrapped tightly in a hospital receiving blanket looked like he was just sleeping. But he never opened his eyes or drew a breath.

“Right.”
He paused. “And the baby. Gracie, you have been through more than I realized.”

She scuffed the dirt under the bench with her sneaker. She needed to regain her composure to continue.

“Life goes on, or so they tell me, but I seem to be dealing with a lot of death lately. Some old history and some fresh. I’m hoping you can help figure some of it out. Do you remember anything else about the car?”

She had to get back on track and not allow her emotions to rule. Matthew adjusted his position on the table and made a visible effort to relax.

“Like I said, I didn’t get a good look at it—just that partial license plate. I think the car was a dark green or blue. It was a big car, maybe a Buick or Chrysler. It looked like a lot of cars around town, I guess, but it might not have been the car that hit Char.”

“Did the car look familiar? It had a WY plate, so it must have been somebody from Wyoming County.”

“It looked like a lot of the big cars around, I guess. My father, your father, even your uncle and a lot of other people in town had big dark cars back then.”

“Did Charlotte ever talk about Isabelle or her mother?”

“It was the usual teenager complaint
s
not enough freedom, parents are unreasonabl
e
you know the stuff we said. Char did get pretty quiet when school started. She kept to herself, which, now that I think about it, was really out of character for her. I guess finding out you’re pregnant would change your perspective.”

“Pretty much.
I wasn’t around, so I don’t know how she was acting or if family tensions were high. That’s why I was hoping you’d shed some light on what she was talking about or to whom before she was killed.”

“Sorry, I haven’t been more help, but that’s about all I remember. Although now that you mention who she was talking to, I think she was really close with Miss Russell, the cheerleading coach. I do remember Charlotte hanging out to talk with her when practice was over.”

“I left a message for Miss Russell the other day, but haven’t heard back. I guess I need to call her again.”

“She might be a good one to talk to about what was on Char’s mind during those last few weeks.
”

Matthew slid from the picnic table and brushed off the backside of his jeans. “Well, Gracie, it was good seeing you, but I’d better get going.”

“Thanks for taking the time to talk, Matt. I really appreciate it. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Gracie whistled for Haley, who jerked her head up, stood, shook, and then trotted to the picnic table. They walked slowly across the grass, noticing that the T-ball games were over, and everyone was headed to their vehicles too.

“It’s OK. I’d like to find out who the driver was myself. Those were bad times for everyone. I wish I had been a few minutes earlier. I might have been able to stop it from happening. I wish I had seen the driver, or at least, known whose car was speeding down Mill that night. I wish a lot of things were different. But you’d better be careful, Gracie. Sometimes it’s better to let things be, you know.”

His eyes were sad, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. Gracie was unable to formulate a comeback. Everyone was telling her the same thing. Matthew broke the awkward silence.

“Well, I’d better pick up Cindy and the kids at my parents. We’re headed to Letchworth Park for a picnic at the Lower Falls. I do have to show the kids my old stomping grounds every so often.”

He stopped on the edge of the asphalt in front of his mini-van and turned to Gracie.

“Keep in touch, Gracie.”

“I will, and if you remember anything else…”

“I will call you. Take care of yourself.” He slid into the van and shut the door.

Gracie opened the back door of the RAV4 to let Haley in.

“Hi, Gracie.”

She turned to see Greg, Isabelle’s son, walking toward her.

“Hey, Greg. How are you holding up?”

“OK, I guess.”

“Do you help with T-ball?”

“Yeah, I started this year. Mom says I’d better make sure I’ve got lots of community activities and good grades to get into the best colleges.”

“She’s right on that. It’s pretty competitive anymore. Not like the olden days when I went.”

Greg laughed and brushed his thick brown hair from his eyes. He wore jeans shorts with a red T-shirt that said Hawks on it.

“I thought it would be a pain, but I kinda like coaching the little kids. They’re pretty funny, most of the time.”

“I’m a little surprised that your Mom allows you to talk to me.”

“Well, she didn’t say not to, and you are one of my coolest cousins, so…”

“Thanks. I’m not feeling so cool these days, though. Has the sheriff’s department finally finished with your Grandpa’s investigation?”

“Mostly, I think. Mom said that they think it was a robbery. Maybe Grandpa tried fighting the robber, and he fell going after the guy or something like that.”

“Was something stolen then? I hadn’t heard that there was anything missing from the house.”

Gracie was wondering what could be missing. The house looked in order to her, but then the shock of finding Uncle Stan wiped attention to detail from her mind that day. Everything looked normal on her secret trip to the house too.

“I think she said that some of Grandma’s jewelry was gone. A cameo and pearl necklace and a couple of other things—a watch and a bracelet, I guess.

“Really? Maybe it’s connected to all the robberies that are happening around the area, although it’s been electronics and cash in the others, from what the newspaper reported.”

“Grandpa and Grandma didn’t have a lot of that stuff. They were pretty old-fashioned. I can’t see Grandpa fighting with a robber though. He was pretty wasted most of the time. I would’ve guessed that he just fell down the stairs, but those bruises around his neck were shaped like hands, I guess. So must be he got into it with somebody.”

“Handprints on his neck? I guess there was somebody else in the house. Do you think it was a robbery then?”

There was something about Greg’s tone that prickled the hair on the back of Gracie’s neck. She wanted to know what was running through this bright teenager’s mind.

A shadow crossed through Greg’s eyes.

“I…really don’t know.” His reluctance was palpable.

“That’s OK. I never did hear when the medical examiner said he died.”

“Oh, it was about 10 o’clock Friday night, I guess. It’s pretty weird to think about that. Mom had me check on him in the afternoon, and he was fine. He was just watching TV and sleeping. It’s just creepy to think that he
was dead a few hours later. If I had hung out with him, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” Greg’s head went down, and he kicked some loose gravel with his sneaker.

“Don’t beat yourself up over that, Greg. I’m a champion at guilt trips and know. I felt the same way, because I was going to see him Friday night, but then didn’t make it.”

“He did say something about wanting to talk to you while I was there. Grandpa wondered if I’d seen you.”

“Did he say anything specific?”

“He was talking kind of funny. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but he’d probably had a few.”

“Was he drinking then?”

“Now that I think about it, I didn’t see any beer bottles around. He usually had two or three at least by his chair, but there weren’t any. There was just a can of Coke. That was pretty unusual.”

“Really?
So what was he saying then?” Gracie tried to contain the eagerness in her voice.

“Well, he was rambling about Grandma and Charlotte. Grandma had gone too far or something like that. He wanted to make things right and had to do the right thing. He said something about my Mom being on the wrong side, and that justice needed to be done. It was really crazy talk. It didn’t make any sense to me. It
kinda freaked me out, so I told him I had to get going. When I told my Mom what he said, she freaked on me.”

“You got stuck in the middle. Nice. Not an easy place to be.”

“Not an easy place to live. There’s always drama with my mother. I try to stay out of her way mostly and disappear as often as I can.” Greg took a quick look around the parking lot. “Well, I’d better get home to report in.” He smiled, but his eyes looked wistful.

“Take care of yourself, Greg. If you ever need to talk or whatever, give me a call, day or night.”

“Thanks, Gracie. It’s good to know that not all of my relatives are strange.”

“Uh, thanks, but we all have our quirks. And you probably don’t want to mention that you talked to me today.” She winked and gave him a quick slap on the back. She watched him in her rearview mirror as he left in a black pickup.

Matthew Minders hadn’t been much help at all, but Greg had opened the door to some new information. She needed to plan her next move. There were a lot of jumbled ideas running around in her head at the moment, and each included Isabelle. And now Aunt Shirley.

B
rad and Carter were moving to Buffalo. The constant churning in Joe’s stomach had slowed down after they’d told him when he’d gotten home from work. He had no idea how they’d talked their probation officer into letting them leave the county. He was probably grateful to hand them over to Erie County. The inventory at the depot was also leaving. Carter had bought an old junker 15-passenger van, pockmarked with rust and a questionable engine. Miraculously, it passed the state inspection, and now it was parked at the depot, hidden by the jungle of weeds that were tangled around the rear of the building. They’d stripped the seats out the night before and tossed them in the weeds along the tracks.

Joe had to help them load everything, and then he was off the hook. His grandmother calling his uncle had been a stroke of genius
. Brad wanted no more of Uncle Ron’s pointed questions and suspicious looks. Maybe his uncle had helped the probation officer get them moved to Buffalo. However it happened, he just wanted them to hurry and get this over with.

The night was cloudy, and there was no moon. Carter had shot out the streetlight next to the depot and the one on the corner with the BB gun weeks ago. The Village DPW hadn’t replaced the bulbs yet, so the whole area was soaked in darkness. Someone was cooking burgers nearby and the smell made his stomach growl. He wiped the back of his
hand across his forehead, catching drops of sweat before they stung his eyes.

Where were they? Sweat trickled down his torso, making his T-shirt stick to him. Joe needed to get back to the house to avoid any questions about why he was out. Sneaking out the bedroom window may have worked when he was a kid, but he was sure his uncle would do a bed check before he turned in. He also needed a cigarette. He didn’t light one for fear the glow would be visible to the street.

Joe hoped they weren’t trying to pull one more job before leaving. And he hoped no kids would show up to party at the depot tonight. The depot’s secret storage area was piled with iPods, laptops, flat screen TVs, DVD players, speakers, DVDs, and who knew what else they’d ripped off on the two-month burglary spree. The cash they’d stolen along the way was long gone, helping Brad and Carter buy cigarettes, a little weed, and plenty of beer. He drew in a lungful of air and hugged himself.

Why were they so late
?

Headlights suddenly swung up the street from Main. Joe felt the stereo’s vibrating rap beat as the car turned into a driveway two houses up from the depot. He crouched in the shelter of the tall weeds by the steps of the rear entrance. Kids laughed and slammed doors, and the music blared. A porch light came on and a man yelled, “Turn that down, Chris. I’ve got enough complaints already.” The music went silent, and the laughing faded after the screen door slammed. Joe stood up gingerly and flexed his stiff right knee. The porch light was still on, and Joe cursed under his breath at the thin pool of light in the blackness.

The street grew quiet again, and the drone of peepers gradually provided steady background noise. Another vehicle made the turn onto Rail Avenue. The headlights were immediately cut, and a pickup with a cap on the back crept into the parking area. Joe eased out of his hiding place in the weeds.

“It’s about time. Where’ve you been?”

“Keep your shirt on, bucko. We had some business to take care of.”

“Let’s get this stuff loaded. I
gotta get outta here.” Joe couldn’t wait for them to be on their way to Buffalo.

Brad swore and grabbed Joe’s damp shirt, jerking him almost off his feet.

“We’ll get it done, so simmer down, Joseph. Is your Granny waiting for you or something?”

“My uncle is, and I don’t need any more trouble.” Joe was tired of being afraid of Brad and his bullying.

“Come on, let’s just get the stuff in the van and get outta here, Brad.” Carter threw the stub of his cigarette on the gravel and rubbed it out with the toe of his work boot.

Brad grunted and pushed Joe back toward the broken railing of the steps into the depot. The rough wood scraped the back of his arm. The three men worked in silence, hauling boxes of electronics to the van. They dropped to the ground when another carload of kids sped by, stereo cranked high. More car doors slammed, and young voices echoed in the still air. They waited until the sounds dimmed, and everyone was in the house. Joe exhaled slowly and knocked off the gravel stuck to his hands. Carter pulled a pile of old blankets out of the back of the pickup to pad the TVs and speakers. It took the three of them to put the last TV in the overcrowded vehicle.

“That’s it.” Carter stuck his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, surveying the tightly packed cargo.

“You’re sure?” Brad growled. He was breathing heavily and sat down on the steps.

“I’m sure.”

“OK, Joe,
scamper home to Grandmaw and give our regards to your uncle the parole officer.”

“Sure, whatever.”
Joe’s shoes crunched on the stones and then were silent when he reached the uneven sidewalk.

“And don’t worry. We’ll keep in touch
,” Brad hissed.

Joe melted into the night, staying well out of the reaches of the porch light across the street. With any luck, the backyard dogs wouldn’t hear him. His gut twisted with the knowledge that Brad wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. The local business had just gotten a little too hot, and a change of scenery would cool things down. They would be back. He needed a plan to avoid them at all costs. It didn’t look good, though. Brad had his thumb on Carter and Joe the entire time they were in prison together. It was easier to go along with Brad than stand up to him. Maybe he should ask his grandmother to pray that Brad went back to prison. If that happened, he’d have a chance at a normal life. But then again, why would God answer a prayer to benefit Joe Youngers?

With headlights off, the truck and van slowly eased onto the street. Joe turned and saw the taillights come on once they got to the intersection and turned onto Main.

“Getting some fresh air, Joe?”

Joe jumped and turned around.

“Hey, Uncle Ron.”
 

His uncle’s large hand clamped onto his shoulder. “Your grandmother was little worried about you, so I said I’d go look for you.  You’re not waiting for anybody are you?”

“No. No. I just thought I’d take a walk around the neighborhood. I was just coming back.”

“Good. I’ll walk back with you. That’ll give us a chance to talk.”