Weaving the Strands (3 page)

Chapter 5

Professor Lyndon Upton downloaded
the spreadsheet and documents Maggie Martin had emailed him and began the
laborious task of sorting through the numbers. Truth be told, he loved this
sort of project—it was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle of about a
million pieces. His mind returned to her comments about Frank Haynes.

Although he hadn’t told Maggie that he knew Haynes
when the opportunity had presented itself during their lunch meeting, Upton
actually considered himself to be in the man’s debt. Upton’s late wife had been
Haynes’ cousin. When her treatment and care during her long illness threatened
to bankrupt Upton—who by then had tapped out both emotionally and
financially—Haynes stepped in and quietly paid the hospital bills along
with their youngest son’s college tuition. Upton presented Haynes with a
promissory note and the deed of trust on his home to secure repayment of the
money, but Haynes tore them up. “I don’t make loans to family,” he said. His
support had been a gift and sure enough Haynes never mentioned it again. Surely
a man of this character and kindness was not a crook.

Upton shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Why
hadn’t he mentioned that he knew Frank Haynes? If he called Maggie now to say “By
the way, I used to be married to Frank Haynes’ cousin and he gave me half a
million dollars,” his own credibility would be tarnished. Better to let it go.
But shouldn’t he call Frank to let him know he was under suspicion? When surely
there was no truth in any of it? He owed him that much, didn’t he?

Upton reached for the overflowing Rolodex on the
back of his credenza and flipped through the cards until he came to one
yellowed with age titled
Haynes, Frank
. He punched in the number and
waited as it rang. He was about to hang up when the vaguely familiar voice
answered, “Haynes Enterprises; Frank Haynes speaking.”

Upton smiled. “Frank! This is a voice from your
past. Don Upton here.”

Haynes relaxed back into his chair. “Don. How are
you? How are the kids? Are you still a college professor?”

“Fine, Frank, we’re all fine. Yes, plugging away
in academia. How about you? I see you’re still in Westbury. How’s business?”

“Not bad. Could always be better. I’m on the town
council now, too.”

“That’s why I’m calling, Frank. This is a courtesy
call to alert you to something that might concern you. I’ve never forgotten
your kindness to me and my family. I hate to think what might have happened to
us without your generosity.”

Haynes cut him off. “That’s in the past; you’ve
already thanked me.” He stood and paced, tethered to his desk like a dog on a
chain. Cold fear settled in the pit of his stomach. What in the world could
Upton possibly know that would concern him? “So what’s up?”

“I’ve known Maggie Martin for years; we worked
together on a large fraud case some time back. She supplied expert testimony
on—”

“And?” Haynes broke in. He remembered how
long-winded Upton could be. “What does this have to do with me?”

“She called me recently to solicit my help in
untangling the financial mess that Westbury’s in. As you may remember,
municipal finance is my specialty.”

Haynes held his breath. “So, what are you doing?
Are you working on the case against Wheeler?”

“No. They’ve got a special counsel working on
that.”

“Alex Scanlon. I know that. I didn’t know Martin
had solicited your help. When did this happen? She didn’t inform the town
council. I’m not sure she can spend the money to hire you without our
approval.”

“I’m not getting paid; I’m doing this pro bono.
And that’s why I’m calling. She didn’t tell the town council because she
doesn’t trust anyone, other than the woman on the council—I forget her
name.”

“Tonya Holmes.”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“What did she say about the council?”

“I met with her and Scanlon. They’re convinced
that Wheeler didn’t act alone, that he had help from other members of the
council. They haven’t developed evidence to indict anyone else yet, but
everyone is suspect. Including you.”

Haynes inhaled sharply. “I’m not involved in any
of it, Don. I’ve made plenty of money from my restaurants and investments; you
know that better than anyone.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. I know you.
That’s why I’m calling you, Frank.”

“What exactly did they say?”

“That others are implicated. She doesn’t know what
to think about you. She finds you hard to figure out.”

Haynes snorted. “Just because I’m not her best
friend or supporter, doesn’t make me a crook.”

“Exactly what I told her.” Upton hesitated. “A
word of advice, if I may?”

Haynes remained silent.

“Find a way to be on her team. She’s floundering.”

“That’s for sure; she’s not qualified to be
mayor.”

“Well, she is the mayor. And she’s a smart and
talented person who’s doing her best in terrible circumstances. You’ve got the
expertise to help on any number of projects. Volunteer to take something on.
She’ll see that you’re on her side, and you won’t be under suspicion anymore.
Win-win. Think about it.”

Haynes circled back to his chair and sat down. He
had to admit Upton was on to something. “Not a bad idea, actually. I’ve been so
busy here that I haven’t wanted to take on any more. But I’ll consider it. And
Don,” he added, “if you see anything you think I should take on, or if you hear
anything else that I should know, please call me. I really appreciate your
reaching out to me.”

He leaned back in his chair as he hung up the
phone and smiled. Maggie’s suspicions were certainly troubling, but having a
source of information inside Town Hall was priceless.

Chapter 6

As was their custom, Gloria and her
cat sat on her secluded patio early the next morning, Gloria sipping her
coffee, and both of them enjoying the hint of fall in the air. She thought she
heard a noise at her front door and listened for a knock. Not hearing anything
further, she relaxed back into her chaise. Still in her housecoat, she didn’t
intend to answer her door at this hour of the morning anyway.

She was perusing the Arts & Entertainment
section of the Sunday paper when she saw Glenn’s car pull out of the lot and
onto the main street, heading toward town.
He must go to early church,
she mused. Her thoughts turned for the hundredth time to their engaging lunch
earlier that week. “I wonder if he’s left me that poetry,” she murmured to
Tabitha, who stretched and didn’t appear the least bit interested in the question.

Gloria tossed the paper aside and scuffed her way
to her front door. Checking through the peephole to make sure that no one was
about—she really didn’t want to be seen in her early-morning state of
disrepair—she quietly opened her door. A small parcel wrapped in brown
paper and tied with a simple red ribbon greeted her.

She quickly retrieved the package and brought it
to her patio. The ribbon was double-knotted, so she had to fetch a pair of
scissors to cut it free. On top of two brand-new volumes of poetry—one of
classical poets and the other of contemporary—was a clean linen card. In
a flowing, masculine script was written:

Some of the best poetry, of course, is found
in the Bible. One of my favorite passages is “This is the day which the Lord
hath made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24. I hope that these
poems remind you of reasons to rejoice. ~G

***

Glenn spotted the lanky teen he
sought as the youth exited the middle school building’s rear door. He waved and
extended his hand to him once they were closer. David Wheeler stared at it
briefly and then met it awkwardly with his own.

“I’m Glenn Vaughn; you can call me Glenn.”

The boy looked away and nodded imperceptibly.

“Do you go by Dave or David?”

The boy shrugged. “My mom calls me David, so I
guess that’d be okay.”

“All right then. David. I know the court assigned
you to this program. I want you to know that I do this as a volunteer because I
enjoy it, and I’m looking forward to working with you.”

David kicked at a pebble with the toe of his shoe.

Glenn gestured to the dog park across the street.
“Let’s find a bench over there. We can watch people bring their dogs to play
Frisbee or run on the agility course they’ve set up.” Glenn’s experience with
his own teenagers had taught him that kids open up more readily when you’re not
sitting across from them, forcing a conversation. “I love watching folks and
their dogs, don’t you?”

They crossed the street in silence.

“Have you ever noticed how many people actually
look like their dogs? There are even look-alike contests.” Glenn gestured to an
Afghan hound being led by a willowy woman with stringy blond hair. “See. Don’t
you think they look related?”

A sliver of a smile crossed the boy’s lips as he
nodded in agreement.

Glenn leaned back on the bench and waited. David
pointed to an athletic man with a crew cut, jogging with a yellow lab. Glenn
laughed. “Yep, that’s a good pair.” He turned to David. “Do you have a dog?”

“No. My mom doesn’t want to clean up after one,
and my dad was too busy,” he replied.

Glenn nodded. “I’m sorry about your dad. I know
it’s been rough on you.”

“I’m fine. I keep telling everyone I’m fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have stolen six
sets of headphones from the school’s language laboratory. You don’t need them;
they’re worthless to you but expensive for the school. And you didn’t even try
to conceal them. It’s like you wanted to get caught.”

David turned away from Glenn.

“I reviewed your record. You were a decent student
and a good athlete until your dad was indicted. You were never in any trouble.
So something is bothering you.”

“Maybe I’m just like my old man,” David mumbled.

“I don’t believe that for one minute. You get to
create your own future. Whatever your dad may have done doesn’t affect how you
live your life,” Glenn said. “I’ll tell you something else. Your teachers all
said terrific things about you.”

“So what do I have to do for this court program?
Just sit here and talk to you?”

“That’s part of it, but there’s more. For
starters, we get to have fun. What do you like to do when you have a free afternoon?”

“Nothing, really,” David replied.

Glenn waited.

“Fishing, I guess.”

“Terrific! I’ve fished since I was a boy. Do you
have a spot you like?”

David hesitated. “I’ve never been. I was just
saying it to say something.”

“Well, you’ve said it to the right person. I’ve
got enough equipment for us both. How about we start this Saturday morning?”

“I guess.”

“Dress warm and bring an extra pair of shoes and
socks. I’ll swing by your house Saturday morning at eight.”

***

Glenn pulled into the lot at
Fairview Terraces late that afternoon, still angered by David Wheeler’s
situation. Why hadn’t his idiot father thought about the effect his criminal
activity would have on his son—this decent boy who was looking for his
father to show him how to be a man?

Someone had parked in his assigned spot, which
didn’t do anything to elevate his mood. He found a free parking spot and headed
toward his apartment, anxious to shower and get to the dining room so that he
might run into Gloria. He wanted to see what she thought of the books he had
left by her door that morning.

On his way to his unit he decided to make sure
that she had retrieved them. He checked his watch. Even with the quick detour,
he’d have time to shower and lie down for fifteen minutes before he had to
leave for the dining hall.

***

Gloria preferred the second-dinner
seating, but tonight she made sure to arrive as early as possible. She made her
way forward after the initial rush of people who surged in when the doors first
opened, as if they hadn’t eaten in a month, and casually scanned the crowd. To
her disappointment, Glenn was nowhere to be seen.

She chose an out-of-the-way table for two with a
good view of the door and placed her purse and a magazine on the other side of
the table to discourage anyone from joining her. She took her time placing her
order and kept an eye on the entrance. After dragging out her meal as long as
she could, she finally resigned herself to the fact that Glenn was not having
dinner at Fairview Terraces that evening. She’d have to think up some clever
way to thank him for his gift—a standard thank-you note would not do.

***

Glenn turned out of bed extra early
on Monday morning, annoyed that he had slept through dinner instead of simply
taking the catnap he had intended. Since Nancy’s death, he’d gotten into the
habit of sleeping until almost nine o’clock every morning, unless he had an
early tee time. He supposed depression was to blame; he had never needed more
than seven hours a night in his entire adult life. Yet despite the increase in
sleep, he rarely felt refreshed. Last night he had made himself scrambled eggs
and toast when he awoke from his nap, then crawled back into bed. For a change,
he slept straight through the rest of the night, without any of the sad and
lonely dreams that usually haunted him. Now he felt rested—and famished.

Glenn quickly dressed and bolted out of his room,
almost missing the note taped to his door:

Another way to start your day feeling “glad
in it” is with a nice, home-cooked breakfast under your belt. Give me a call
some morning when you’re in the mood for eggs and old-fashioned biscuits and sausage
gravy. ~G

Chapter 7

William Wheeler stared through the
thick Plexiglas barrier at his wife of almost twenty years. Although still
lovely, Jackie was frayed and careworn. The dark circles under her makeup-less
eyes and the streaks of gray in her unkempt hair aged her. He used to be
irritated by her constant attention to her appearance and her propensity for
expensive salons; he now longed for the days when those were his biggest concerns.

He attempted a smile. “Did you miss your hair
appointment to come see me?” he asked, trying to sound jovial.

She raised her chin. “What’re you saying? I don’t
look good enough for you? Trying to impress your jailhouse pals?”

“No, sweetheart, no,” he replied quickly. “I just
meant that you shouldn’t give up the things you love just because I’m in here.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she countered. “But
now that you’re in prison and I’m working as a receptionist to keep this family
afloat, I don’t have the time or money to get my hair done.”

“Surely it’s not as bad as all that,” he stated
softly. “You found the cash I told you about in the attic?”

“I did. And it’s almost gone. Our mortgage is
expensive, remember? And they’ve frozen our other accounts. We’re barely
hanging on until you’re out of here. It’ll be soon, right? That’s what you
said.”

Wheeler hung his head and looked at his folded
hands.

“Bill, for God’s sake,” she hissed. “You’re
getting that plea deal aren’t you?”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell his wife that
according to his lawyer even the best plea deal wouldn’t keep him out of
prison. A dirty ex-mayor was a big fish; he would have to serve time. Special
Counsel Scanlon would see to that.

“We need you home, Bill. David needs you. He’s
been surly and disrespectful and now he’s in trouble at school. I can’t control
him.”

Wheeler brought his head up sharply. “When did
this happen? Is that why he hasn’t been with you to visit?”

“Yes. He’s refused to come.” Tears rimmed her
eyes. “It’s been building for a while. I thought I could handle it, but then he
stole some stupid headphones from the school. Hid them in his locker, where
they would be found. Now he’s in a court-ordered diversion program. His mentor
is an old guy—really nice. David seems to like him. If he finishes it, he
won’t have anything on his record.”

Wheeler rubbed his hand over the stubble on his
chin. His sweet, good kid was running off the rails. His beautiful wife looked
like a charwoman. And they’d soon run out of money and lose the home they’d
worked so hard to create. All because he’d been a greedy idiot and had gotten
mixed up with Delgado and his cronies. And now he was stuck. If he gave up
information about them, there wasn’t a prison in the state where he’d be safe.
He could only hope that his time served awaiting trial would satisfy the prison
component of the plea deal. That’s why he had opted not to get out on bail. He
knew that if he couldn’t cut a deal to get out, he might as well be a dead man.
In fact, death would be a relief.

Wheeler forced a smile. “This’ll all be over soon.
Not much longer now. Tell David I love him and that he needs to finish this
diversion program and get back on track.” He sighed. “And spend some of that
money to get your hair done.” He held her gaze for a long moment. “Don’t ever
forget how much I love you both and how very sorry I am about all this. No
matter what it takes, I’m gonna fix it.”