A Gala Event (21 page)

“That's fine. It won't take long.”

After Lori and Aaron had disappeared out the back, Meg and Seth exchanged bewildered glances. “This is really weird,” Meg ventured.

“It is. How do we keep finding ourselves in the middle of things like this?”

“I wish I knew. Anyway, I've got to think about dinner. Think spaghetti will work?”

“I don't think those two will care.”

It was a disjointed dinner. Meg wondered if Emily Post had ever addressed the issue of acceptable topics for discussion in the company of a recently released prisoner who had once been convicted of homicide. Or patricide plus matricide. Having cooked dinner, Meg allowed herself a glass of wine with her meal, and Lori seized on the opportunity to follow suit—and then some. Seth remained quiet and watchful.

Meg considered then rejected a number of subjects.
What was life in prison really like?
was at the top of the list. She had never been inside one, and what little she knew came from television programs or movies. Was it violent? Did the inmates live in constant fear that they would be harassed or even attacked by others? Or was that a gross exaggeration, and the worst problem was really boredom? Of course, boredom could lead to violence, just to create some excitement. No, she couldn't ask that.

She settled on “You said you took some computer classes, Aaron?”

“Sure. I had to do something, and I'd already read half the books in the prison library.”

“Hey, some people write 'em in prison,” Lori said, more loudly than necessary. “I bet you'd have publishers beating down your door for your story. If you had a door.”

“I can't write about what I don't remember,” he said, surprisingly mildly.

Lori waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, make it up. Who cares now?”

“I do, Lori,” Aaron said. His simple statement produced silence all around.

Finally Lori got the message, and said in a more sober voice, “I'm sorry, Aaron. Look, you really don't remember what happened that night?”

“Yes.”

That brief statement seemed to stump Lori. “How can you not? I mean, you've had years, decades, to think about it.”

“I have, and I've had shrinks to help. It's a blank, just not there at all. I blame the drugs: I did a lot of mixing up, without a clue about how they might work together. Didn't you ever experiment?”

Lori shook her head. “Nah. I was scared to look for anybody who was dealing—maybe I was just paranoid, or afraid of getting ripped off. Now, alcohol—that's another story. A whole lot easier to get, and it's even legal, mostly. You aren't drinking?” Lori nodded toward Aaron's glass, which contained water.

“Not since I went to prison. If I could forget such an important event in my life as killing my parents and destroying my
own home, I don't even want to guess what any drug—and alcohol is a drug, big sister—could do to me now.”

“You're a drag,” Lori said with a hint of contempt. “You used to be more fun. And you've already done the worst thing possible, right?”

“How could you tell I used to be fun?” Aaron asked, brushing off his sister's negative comment. “You never spent any time with me.”

Meg wondered if she was supposed to jump in and change the course of the discussion, but she had to admit that she found the sibling dialogue interesting. Luckily Seth stepped up. “So, computers. What skills did they emphasize in your courses?”

Lori looked confused by the change of subject, but Aaron turned his attention to Seth. “Well, it depends on when you're asking about. Over twenty-five years, I saw a lot of changes in that industry, so I kept taking courses, and there wasn't much repetition of the same material, let me tell you. Most recently . . .”

Meg listened with half an ear. She chided herself for forgetting that while Seth had chosen to work with his hands, he had an undergraduate degree from Amherst, one of the most competitive colleges in the country. He still read widely—when he could stay awake after a long day of physical labor. He appeared to be surprisingly well-informed about current computer issues—certainly more than she was. She felt a surge of affection for him; he was being kind to Aaron without being condescending, which wasn't easy for anyone.

Lori looked bored and restless. She stood up suddenly. “Where's your bathroom?”

“Upstairs. On the left, at the top of the stairs. I can show you . . .” Meg started to say, but Lori was on her way.

“Don't worry, I'll find it,” she called back over her shoulder.

The three remaining people at the table exchanged looks. “Aaron, why do you think she's here? You said you two were never close,” Meg said.

“Curiosity? I don't think she has much of an attention span. Maybe nowadays someone would say she had ADD, but back when she was in school nobody talked about it much, not like today. Not many girls had the problem.”

“I think I can see what you mean. But she got into a good college.”

Aaron nodded. “And Dad made a nice contribution to get her there. Plus she didn't last long—made it through one year, and had barely started her second when . . . the fire happened. Hard to say which came first, the drinking or the flunking out.”

Meg shot a glance at Seth. “Do you want us to ask her to stay? I mean, here with us?”

“Only if you want,” Aaron said. “I mean, I'm glad I had a chance to see her, but I don't see us being best buddies for the rest of our lives. Do you?”

He had a point, Meg conceded. “What about your brother?”

“What about him?”

“Do you want to see him? Do you want to get the three of you together, even if it's only once?”

“For a happy family reunion? Or a final farewell? Meg, I know that you mean well, but I'm not sure what the point is. It's been a long time since I felt much of anything for either of them.”

“Kevin might know something about that night, might have seen or overheard something,” Meg countered stubbornly.

“How? He was at school.”

“He had a car,” Meg shot back. “So did Lori. Either or both of them could have been at the house in an hour or two. You were wasted, and you can't remember a thing. Prove that they
weren't
there,” she challenged him.

Finally Aaron looked surprised. “The police never talked to them? There's nothing in their files?”

“They were never considered suspects, if that's what you're asking. They had you.”

“Huh,” Aaron said. He thought for a moment. “Maybe I should see him. But I don't know where he is. He didn't keep in touch.”

Lori came back at that point. “You mean, like I did? I think Kevin was happy to put the whole mess behind him. And no, I don't know where he is at the moment. Last I heard he was in”—she shut her eyes for a moment to concentrate—“Chicago or something. He ended up as a do-gooder, running inner-city programs for starving people or sick children or something like that.”

“He finished college?” Aaron asked.

Lori nodded. “In social work, that kind of thing.”

Meg broke in. “Lori, why didn't the two of you stay in touch?”

“Because Kevin is boring and a prig. Lousy combination. We have zip to say to each other.”

“But do you know where to find him? Or how?”

“Try the city first—it could be some public agency. Or Google him.”

“Or try the college alumni association,” Seth suggested. “And I'll remind Art—he has more means to do this than we do.”

“Who's Art?” Lori asked.

“The Granford chief of police. And a friend,” Meg told her.

“So he's mixed up in this, too?” Lori said. “Jesus, Aaron—couldn't you have just fallen off the grid like a normal ex-con? Now you're asking favors from hometown police chiefs?”

Aaron shrugged, and nodded across the table to Meg and Seth. “I didn't; they did. But I appreciate it. And if Kevin's as annoying as you say he is, he'd probably jump at the chance to patronize his bad-seed brother.”

“Ooh, and having the two of us together to look down our noses at Kevin would be too good to miss. I'm in,” Lori said gleefully. “But I'd better figure out where I'm staying while we track him down.”

Meg sighed inwardly. She should ask Lori to stay with her, but . . . Luckily Seth preempted her. “My house is empty at the moment—you're welcome to stay there. Aaron, you could join Lori there if you want.”

“And abandon my alpaca pals? I think I'd better stay where I am, but Lori and I can spend some private time together at the house. Thanks for the offer, Seth. Lori, that work for you?”

“Whatever. We should get out of these people's hair.”

“I'll take you over and show you what's where at the house, Lori,” Seth volunteered. “Aaron, you want to come with us?”

“Sure. I can walk back to the farm from there.”

Seth turned to Meg. “I should be back in half an hour, no more.”

Meg smiled at him. “I'll try to stay awake that long.”

It was slightly longer than half an hour before Seth returned, but Meg had expected that. She had cleaned up the kitchen, taken a shower, and was happily settled in bed reading when he clomped up the stairs. “How'd it go?” she asked.

“I really have to figure out what I'm doing with the house, or at least hire a housekeeper to make sure there are clean sheets and towels. Oh, about Lori and Aaron. Do you know, I'm not sure I've ever seen a more dysfunctional family?”

“You have led a sheltered life, Seth. What bothers me is that apparently the Eastmans tried very hard to present the appearance of success and money, but right under the surface it was a boiling mess. Are we any nearer to knowing what really happened?”

“Do you have any solid reason to doubt that the police got it right?” Seth countered.

“You mean, apart from my gut? No. It's more like what I'm not finding, like more details in the reports. Everybody took the easiest course, picked the obvious solution. Druggy kid with a chip on his shoulder did it, end of story. What do you think of Aaron, Seth?”

Seth had taken off his shoes and dropped down on the bed next to Meg. “I didn't know him then. What I see now is . . . a man who's kind of lost, I guess. The most important event in his life is a blank in his memory. He's been in prison more than half his life, but he seems to have survived. But maybe that means he's bottled up a lot of stuff, and it may come out sometime.”

“Are you saying you think he's dangerous?” Meg asked.

Seth contemplated the ceiling. “Maybe only to himself. I know that sounds harsh, but the guy has no family except his siblings, and they aren't exactly supportive, unless Lori is lying about Kevin. He has minimal job skills. He has no roots anywhere. I hate to say it, but I have no idea how he's going to survive. It's a shame.” He rolled over to look at Meg. “But that doesn't mean that it's up to us to try to fix him.”

“I know,” Meg said with a sigh. “I guess the question is, can we answer the simple question he asked us? What really happened that night?”

“Not yet. Maybe never. Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. Like what?”

“Like when I can dismantle the bathroom—only for a short time, I promise!”

“Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before,” Meg replied. Although to be fair, Seth was usually accurate in his estimates. “You said something about this weekend?”

“Well, we've still got some time before the wedding, which gives us a cushion if I run into any snags.”

“Oh no, that never happens,” Meg said. “If things slip, what are we supposed to do about certain bodily functions?”

Seth grinned. “What they did when the house was built? I think there's an old chamber pot out in the barn, and you can wash in a bucket, right?”

“Must I?”

“Hey, seriously, if things get jammed up we can sleep at my house. All right?”

“I guess. So when does demolition start? I should warn Bree.”

“This is Wednesday. I've got some finish work to do on one project, but I could start Friday, and then there'd be the weekend.”

“All right. So I need to find tile.”

“Quickly. By the way, I forgot to tell you that your mom called my mom, and your folks will be there for Thanksgiving dinner. But they didn't say where they'd stay.”

“Oh, goody?” Meg said dubiously. She loved her parents, but that meant they'd be around for a whole week before the wedding. But not in her house, which was a relief.

Seth was watching with suppressed amusement. “If you could see your face . . . Don't worry—your mother said they had plans to visit some other sites between Turkey Day and the wedding. I believe Stockbridge was mentioned.”

“Ah,” Meg said, relieved. “That does sound more their style. So, point me to someone who sells tile, and let the
demolition begin.” Unless Lori and Aaron somehow interfered. She doubted that either of them would be much help with picking tiles. “But please ask Art how to find Kevin, will you?”

“I will. I'm going to grab a shower—while it still works.” He bounced off the bed and headed down the hall.