Fatal Deduction (23 page)

But first I made a phone call I’d been wanting to make for several days.

“Homicide, Detective Holloran,” the handsome policeman boomed in my ear.

“Hello, Detective. This is Elizabeth Keating. I was wondering if you could tell me how the man I found on my doorstep died. It’s been eating at me for days now, the not knowing.”

He was silent for a moment. Didn’t other crime victims call for information? Was it not the done thing? Did his silence mean un-happiness? Surprise?

“You know I can’t discuss an open case with you, Ms. Keating,” he finally said, his voice carefully neutral.

I sighed. I’d been afraid of this answer. “I understand. I’m not asking about the investigation itself. I just would like to know how the poor man died. Surely you can tell me that much.”

There was a heavy sigh, and I knew the last thing this man wanted was to waste time talking to me. Then I heard the click of computer keys, a hopeful sign. Or he’d decided to play Spider Solitaire until he got rid of me.

“Okay. It says here that Mick Brewer died of heart failure.”

“What? He had a heart attack and laid himself neatly on my step to die?” With T
ORI
on his chest?

“He didn’t die on your step. He was carried there.”

“That’s ridiculous. It makes no sense.”

“I agree. But here’s the interesting thing, Ms. Keating. He had two small burn marks on his body, one on his neck—”

“I saw that!”

“—and one on his back. They are consistent with marks from a Taser. The coroner says that the electrical shock of the gun was what triggered the heart attack. Your friend apparently had a bad heart, and
zap!
That’s all there is, folks. And I gotta go.”

As soon as his phone clicked off, I went to my computer and signed on to HowStuffWorks.com for a quick lesson in electronic weapons. I learned that a Taser shoots two electrodes up to fifteen or
so feet. These electrodes are attached by wires to the gun, and when the electrodes hit a person, the body completes an electrical circuit with the weapon. High voltage, low amperage current flows and disrupts the body’s natural electrical system. Muscles and nerves are overstimulated. They contract randomly, causing temporary incapacitation. While Tasers and stun guns, their close-quarters cousins, are nonlethal, the jolt is very painful. In a person with a prior health issue, the strong stab of current may be enough to cause a heart attack.

It all sounded very
Star Wars/Star Trek
to me, but I remembered seeing cops bring down violent suspects on the various reality cop shows as I clicked through the channels. I never lingered on those shows for long. They were too “guy” for my taste, and they brought Dad and Pop too much to mind.

Poor Mick. Whoever had shot him hadn’t meant to kill him. It was just his bad luck to have had a preexisting cardiac condition.

While I was online, I checked our eBay auctions and smiled in satisfaction. I closed them out and grinned widely at the thought of Dave at our local Mail N More when I gave him the hobbyhorse to package for me.

I wandered up to Chloe’s room to waken her and tell her I was going to Tinksie’s and to get ready for the trip back to New Jersey.

“Do I have to go back with you?” she moaned. “I can stay here alone.”

“We’re going to the party today, remember? First we’ll drop off the shoebox. Then you can help me package some eBay items for mailing.”

“The hobbyhorse?”

“Did well after things got going.”

“And someone actually bought all those sunglasses?”

“And at a very nice price. Then we’ll go help Mom-Mom and Great-Nan get ready for the big welcome home party.”

“Why don’t I just come with Jenna and Mr. Canfield?”

“I want to give them the chance not to come.” I still felt bad about the way Drew had been more or less forced into accepting Mom and Nan’s invitation.

Chloe looked surprised. “Why wouldn’t they come?”

“Why would they?”

“Oh.” She thumped her pillow until it was more comfortable beneath her head. “When you put it that way…” She studied me a moment. “Does it make you nervous to think of them coming home?”

My smile was more rueful than humorous as I tried to ease the tension drawing my neck and shoulder muscles tight. No need to ask who
them
was. “It does.”

“Me too. I’ve never known them anywhere but in the visiting room at prison.”

I looked at her uncertain face. “You’ll get used to them being around.”

“Will they still be nice?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the guards were always standing around and all.”

“Oh, honey.” I sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her tousled hair back. “They were never mean men. Foolish. Selfish. Prideful. Certainly all those and more, but never mean.” I kissed her cheek. “It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t have to go over there more than usual, do I?”

I studied Chloe. She’d never shown reluctance to visit with my family before. “I thought you liked the ‘sinful Keatings.’”

“Yeah, but not every day. I can only take so much gloom and doom.”

I nodded. I understood all too well. “Things might not be as negative there now, but we’ll keep the frequency of visits much as they are. The only difference is that when we go over, we’ll see your grandfather and great-grandfather as well as your grandmother and great-grandmother.”

“We need to keep those boundaries, Mom.”

I looked at my daughter with astonishment. She was absolutely right. We needed boundaries. On the one hand, we needed to keep connected to the family because families should care for each other, even dysfunctional ones like ours. Then too we wanted them to find the Lord. But set against these truths was the counterbalance that they could pull Chloe and me down emotionally and spiritually with their constant criticism and sniping.

“How did you get so smart so young?”

“I’ve got you for a mom.” She grinned with a gleam in her eye. “But don’t let that go to your head. It’s early in the morning, and my defenses are down.”

I laughed as I stood. “Up you get, cookie. I’ve got to go see Tinksie for a few minutes. Well, James really. Be ready to go when I get back, okay?”

I left her heading for the shower and went across to Tinksie’s. When I rang the bell, she opened the door, as bright and alert as an elderly chipmunk.

“Come in, come in, my dear.” She studied me a minute. “Libby, right?”

“Very good! Not many people can do that.”

She shrugged like it was nothing at all. “It is a bit harder since you had your hair brightened.”

“So how do you do it?” I knew my face was a bit more rounded and my brow a bit heavier, but the differences were too subtle for most people.

Tinksie looked a bit embarrassed.

“It’s not because I walk around with spinach caught in my teeth or something equally gross, is it?” I teased.

She laughed. “Not at all. It’s just you are so friendly and genuine. Your sister, on the other hand, has an air about her, like the world doesn’t deserve her divine presence. Very off-putting, if you ask me.” She put a hand to her mouth. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say about your sister.”

It didn’t seem very loyal to tell her I agreed, so I kept quiet on the subject, patting her hand to show I took no offense. “Is James home?”

“He’s in the backyard with Andrew.”

I blinked. “Aunt Stella’s Andrew?”

Tinksie nodded. “Come meet him. You’ll like him.”

Andrew Melchior was a handsome man—slim, white haired, and goateed, sort of an aged Captain Jack Sparrow without the dreadlocks. It didn’t take me long to see why Aunt Stella loved him. He oozed charm and seemed genuinely delighted to meet me.

“I always regretted I never was able to meet Stella’s nieces. She loved you two so much.”

I flushed with embarrassment when I thought of how little thought I’d given Aunt Stella through the years. I hoped Andrew took my red cheeks as pleasure.

“So how’s it going?” he asked.

I thought of Drew and Jenna, the stolen pin, and the dead man. The good, the bad, and the ugly. “All in all, we’re managing.”

“I’m glad. Stella was a bit nervous about putting the two of you together.”

Then why in the world did she do it?
“Fortunately Tori spends a lot of time at work.” I slapped my hand across my mouth much as Tinksie had done just a few minutes ago. “That sounded terrible. I’m sorry.”

Andrew waved the comment aside. “Let me just say that if things get too bad, come see me.”

“Come see you?”

“I can’t tell you why. I probably shouldn’t even tell you to come see me, but please do.”

Mystified and intrigued, I nodded. “Thank you. Now I have questions I wanted to ask James.”

At the sound of his name, James sat up straighter, a springer spaniel going on point.

I grinned at him. “After all, Tinksie says you know everything.”

James gave his slow smile to his wife, who grinned back. “I’ve spent our whole marriage teaching her that. She’s a very apt pupil.”

Tinksie made a face at him.

I thought about the level of comfort between these two older people who had lived together for so many, many years. They still liked each other. Different as they were, they had somehow crafted a solid marriage.

How did you do that? How did you end up like them instead of like Drew and Ruthie? Or like Mom and Dad? How did you manage to love each other for fifty years and more? How did you manage to be yourself, which Tinksie most definitely was, while you also served the needs of another? Madge and Bill had managed it too, though not for nearly as long.

At home, even before the troubles, there had frequently been tension, days of not speaking after virulent arguments. I sometimes wondered if the marriage would have lasted if Dad had not been
forced to spend so many years away. In his absence he had acquired an aura of wonder in Mom’s mind.

I expected that his return and daily presence would dispel that quickly enough. The demise of the marriage could still be in the offing.

I looked at James sitting comfortably in his padded lawn chair. “Can you tell me who is paying the costs at the house? Is it the estate, or are we going to get several unexpected bills?”

James glanced at Andrew, who answered. “Let me assure you that the estate will carry all the costs for the duration of your stay.”

“That’s a relief!” Now all I had to deal with was my sister, my parents, and my feelings for Drew.

And an unhappy Jenna who sat at the kitchen table with Chloe when I returned to the house.

Drew wanted nothing more than to grab his trusty Lands’ End briefcase, flee the house, and hide in the stacks at the Penn Library. Or the historical society. He remembered with longing the anticipation he’d felt at the approaching six-month sabbatical. He’d thought this time would be so relaxing and invigorating.

Instead he was slumped in the kitchen chair across from the weeping Ruthie. What had he ever done to deserve all this emotional chaos?

“Nobody loves me,” she sobbed. “Nobody. I could die tomorrow and no one would even care.” Tears streamed down her face and dripped off her chin onto her dirty cami. Her hair was uncombed and had reached the point of desperately needing a shampoo. She rubbed her fists into her eyes like a child, and Drew noticed that her nails were bitten to the quick.

“You’ve had any number of people love you, Ruthie. Your parents. Me. Your boyfriends.” Though Drew doubted there had been much real affection in those short-lived relationships. Just lust and chemistry.

“Jenna doesn’t love me.” She sniffed and swiped an arm under her nose.

Stifling a feeling of disgust at the glistening streak on her forearm, Drew reached for the napkin holder and pushed it toward her. She took a napkin and blew her nose. Then she held the dirtied thing out to him. Feeling revulsion and certain he was the shallowest man alive, he forced himself to take it. He couldn’t drop it in the wastebasket fast enough.

“She doesn’t love me,” Ruthie sobbed. “She thinks I’m a lousy mother.”

He couldn’t say, “You’re pretty much right on both counts.” Jenna wanted to love Ruthie and be loved in return. All kids wanted to be loved by their mothers, but all kids weren’t that fortunate. Most kids perhaps, but not all. Not his Jenna. And that made for raging conflict in her aching heart.

Oh, God, help Jenna turn to You to fill that void! And please help me here. I want to speak truth to Ruthie, but I don’t want to inflict unnecessary hurt
.

“She rarely sees you, Ruthie.”

“And whose fault is that?” She glared at him through her tears. “You keep her with you all the time.”

Drew had learned long ago that rationality wasn’t Ruthie’s strong suit. Her illness skewed her thinking, and she thought she was saying truth when no one else saw it that way. At least that was the situation some of the time. Other times he was convinced she was cunning and devious, three steps ahead of him, manipulating him to
get her way. Since he was by nature a straightforward man, he had trouble following her thought processes when she was being wily. He had learned long ago that the best policy was to keep silent. Still, the urge to defend himself was astonishingly strong in spite of all the years and all the fruitless arguments.