Castle Cay (9 page)

Pete leaned forward, pinching the bridge of
his nose, while Joan unconsciously rubbed the back of her neck.

Julie knew at once that they’d had this
conversation many times. Pete was clearly conflicted about his job,
and Joan was stressed to the max, afraid he might quit.

“Well, I’ve got some thoughts on all of this
that I want to look into,” said Julie. “As much as I appreciate the
hospitality, you guys, it’s probably best if I leave here in the
morning and spend tomorrow night in Boston. I’m planning to call
Conner, Castle & Mann and make an appointment to see Marc’s
uncle. And, believe me, I’ve got some questions for Avram, too,
before I leave.”

•

Julie arose early the next morning, so she
could say goodbye to the boys and Pete before they left for the
day. She had expected to have breakfast with them. Wrong. It was
strictly grab n’ go in the Soldano household on weekdays.

“Phew!” said Joan, as Pete, the last to
leave, went out through the garage door, mobile-coffee-cup in hand.
“What a zoo, huh?”

“They could use you at Starbucks,” said
Julie, waving goodbye to Pete as she entered the kitchen from the
garage.

She had just come in from walking Paul and
Pete, Jr. out front to the street. She had carried her coffee with
her. Warming her hands on the mug, she had leaned against the
Malibu and watched the boys as they walked down the steep little
hill to their bus stop at the bottom. Julie could see the river
through the trees, sparkling in the sun. When the school bus picked
up the boys, she’d gone back in the house.

Now the two women settled down in peace at
the kitchen table.

“It’s so good to see you, Julie. I’ve thought
of you so much over the years.”

“I should have called,” said Julie, looking
down at the table. “I’m sorry, Joannie. There’s really no excuse.
In the beginning, after Dan died…”

“Julie, it’s all right,” said Joan,
interrupting. “I understand. You don’t have to explain
anything.”

“No. I want to,” said Julie. “It’s time I
did.” She took a breath and continued.

“After Dan died, I couldn’t bear to see
anybody or talk about it. I couldn’t face his family, our friends.
If Marc hadn’t been so dogged…so persistent…I probably would have
cut him off, too. Over time…well…it was just easier to keep it that
way.

“The truth is…I’m responsible for Dan’s
death.”

“But that’s absurd, Julie! From what I know,
you nearly drowned yourself trying to save him!”

“No. Dan drowned because I didn’t get to him
fast enough.” To Julie’s chagrin, a tear spilled over and ran down
her cheek.

Joan reached across the table with some
napkins, and took her hand. “Honey, here… listen to me. It wasn’t
your fault.”

“It was…it was,” said Julie, sniffing.

“Sh-h, now,” said Joan. “Something you should
know, Julie. I’ve been to that island.”

Julie looked at her, surprised.

“That’s right. It was after you moved to
Florida. Milt and Miriam offered it to Pete and me for our
honeymoon. The fact is we were broke, so we took it gladly.

“Anyhow, what you need to know is that we
rode over to the eastern shore. We stood on that very point! And
I’m telling you, Hon, we could see that rip current clearly. Pete
threw a branch in, and it took it out in a flash! It’s a wonder you
didn’t die, too, jumping in there after him like that.”

“I dove in right away, but I didn’t swim,
Joan. That’s what I did wrong:
I didn’t swim.
The current
was so fast; it seemed faster than I could swim. I thought it would
take me to him, but it was moving Dan at the same speed! I should
have been swimming as strong as I could, like walking fast on the
moving walkway at the airport.
I did the wrong thing
.”

“Julie…honey…how could you possibly have
known what to do? It was a freak situation, a split second
decision. Besides, have you ever considered the possibility that
Dan drowned before you ever dove into the water?”

It was a simple thought:

Dan was dead the whole time.

Julie had suppressed that horrible, simple
thought during her rescue attempt. Afterward, she had blocked it to
make sense of her foolhardy action. It was crystal clear now that
she had run away from anyone who might make her face the truth
about it. But time had done its job. In fact, Julie felt as if a
great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Julie?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re right, Joan. Dan
was
probably dead when he washed out of that cave. I just
couldn’t face that years ago. You’re a good friend. Thank you for
being so direct.”

Okay, enough,
thought Julie,
emotionally spent.
I can’t talk about this anymore.
With a
final sigh, she squeezed Joan’s hand and changed the subject. “I
apologize for my absence all these years, Joannie. I promise to be
a much better friend in the future. Speaking of the future, have
you guys decided where the boys are going to school? Are you
thinking U-Mass, Boston College, or what?”

Her awkward segue worked.

The two of them went on to talk about the
boys and the University of Massachusetts, about local politics and
tennis. Their conversation was easy and enjoyable. The years melted
away.

All too soon, it was time for Julie to leave.
She wanted to get checked into the Marriott Long Wharf in Boston
before noon. Her plan was to see Matt Castle shortly after that and
she didn’t want to miss him.

Joan walked her to her car and they
hugged.

Julie turned the ignition, waved to her
friend, and released the emergency brake.

The Malibu started forward…too fast. Julie
put her foot on the brake and it went all the way to the floor. She
stamped on it, futilely.

What the hell?!

The car hurtled down the steep hill, headed
straight for the river.

* * * * *

I
nstinctively, Julie slammed on the
emergency brake and pushed the automatic gearshift to
Park
.
She yanked the steering wheel hard to the left and held it there.
In a matter of seconds, the car had reached the two lane road and
done a one-eighty to the left before slamming to a stop, rear-end
facing the river.

In shock and trying to catch her breath,
Julie closed her eyes and dropped her head on her arms, slumped
over the steering wheel. Mere moments later, she lifted her head
and looked out her window.

There was a car heading right for her.

Shit, shit, SHIT!

She saw the driver’s panicked face and heard
the squeal of his brakes. She closed her eyes tight, bracing and
holding her breath, expecting the broadside impact…

It didn’t happen! The man had stopped the car
a few inches from her door! The older driver was looking at her,
agape, relief written all over his face. Julie exhaled like the
governor just called off her execution.

Thank you, God! Thank you!

She heard another screech as a second hapless
motorist just missed hitting the old man. Unable to open the
driver’s side door, she slid to the right and jumped out of the
Malibu.

Joan Soldano had watched the accident in
horror, running down the hill after the runaway car. Now, she
darted across the road. “Ohmigod, ohmigod! Julie! Are you all
right?!”

“I’m okay! The brakes are gone!”

The white-haired, bespectacled old man that
had almost T-boned Julie had gotten out of his car. “Are you okay,
Miss?”

“Yes, thank God. Are you?”

“Yes, I’m just glad I was able to stop!”

•

The back end of Julie’s car had knocked down
a section of the low stone wall edging the river bank and smacked
into a tree directly behind it. The rear end was caved in and two
tires were blown.

Julie saw a police car, weaving through the
traffic, heading in her direction. She realized then that she had
to get the Malibu off the narrow road as quickly as possible. The
car was only partially blocking the northbound lane and people were
slowing down and going around it. But behind the older man’s car,
the traffic was stacking up. She dug out her cell phone and her
rental contract and called Hertz.

Once the report was made and the car towed
away, Julie followed Joan back up Drake Hill to the house. The plan
was for Joan to drive her to the local Hertz office for a
replacement. Pausing by the front walk to rest from tugging her
carry-on up the hill, she happened to glance down at the small bag.
The wheels had left two short, dark stripes on the pavement leading
to a tiny iridescent pool.

A puddle of brake fluid.

* * * * *

G
iven that she was still alive and
breathing, Julie decided not to press her luck by asking God for a
parking space. She left the new rental - a Camry - at the Marriott,
and walked up State Street for her one-thirty appointment with Matt
Castle.

Entering the lobby of the building, Julie
noticed that the law firm was the only occupant of the top floor.
She took the elevator up and stepped out into a large reception
area. It was designed to impress: large oriental carpets atop
highly polished hardwood floors and Old English mahogany furniture.
There was a gold sign on the wall facing the elevator:

CONNOR, CASTLE & MANN

A dignified older woman sat at a desk to the
right. She smiled as Julie approached. “Good afternoon. May I help
you?”

“Yes. I’m Julie O’Hara. I’m here to see Mr.
Castle. I have an appointment.”

The woman glanced at her computer.

“Oh, yes, Ms. O’Hara,” she said. “Mr. Castle
is expecting you. Would you have a seat? I’ll let him know that
you’re here. Please help yourself to the coffee over there.”

Julie passed on the coffee; she was jittery
enough from her ‘accident’ in Salem.

Matt Castle came out to meet her almost
immediately, and she remembered him from the funeral. He was a tall
man in a dark gray pinstriped suit with an impeccable shirt and
tie. His hair was turning gray at the temples which gave him a
solid, patrician air. He welcomed her warmly.

“Ms. O’Hara?” he said, extending his hand.
“I’m Matthew Castle. Please call me Matt. It’s a pleasure to
finally meet Marc’s best friend, Merlin. He never ceased bragging
about you.”

“Please, call me Julie,” she said, shaking
his hand. “Marc was becoming so well known that I was the one
bragging about being his friend. I know he cared a great deal for
you, too, Matt. He spoke of you many times. I’m so sorry for your
loss.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Come, let’s go to my
office.”

Julie followed him down a hallway past
smaller offices to a large, windowed corner suite. The overall
impression was English Hunt Club: crimson leather on polished dark
wood, oil landscapes and hunting prints. The walls were filled with
law books and accreditation, family photos artfully
interspersed.

Rather than sitting opposite her at his desk,
he led her to a pair of club chairs.

“Julie. I’m going to be frank with you,” he
said, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking a seat. “I’m deeply
suspicious about my nephew’s death. Marc was not at all
suicidal.”

Julie’s impression of Matt Castle as an ally
was all but confirmed with those words.

“No, he wasn’t,” said Julie. “Marc and I
discussed the subject once. He was emphatic about suicide being
cowardly. He specifically said that it was cruel to loved ones who
were left behind. He would never have taken his own life.”

“Do you think it could have been an
accident?” asked Matt. “Did you know it was an injection?”

“I just learned that,” said Julie, “but I
don’t know what it was.”

“They told me it was oxycodone.”

“Oxycodone? There’s no way this was an
accident! I think Marc was murdered.”

“Yes,” said Matt, “so do I.”

They were quiet for a moment, the enormity of
that sinking in.

“There’s something else, Matt. Someone tried
to kill me this morning.”

His eyes widened in shock and concern.

Julie recounted her close call, in all its
harrowing detail.

“Someone tampered with your brakes?”

“Yes. I’m certain of it. It was a new car;
the brake pedal was high, tight. I drove the car for three days and
the brakes worked fine.”

“Did you report it to the police?”

“Just an accident report, when the police
showed up on the road. I didn’t see the brake fluid in front of
Pete’s house until later.”

“Who do you think…?”

Aghast, his unfinished question hung in the
air.

“It had to be someone who knew I was
suspicious. Someone who knew exactly where I was staying, who knew
where the Soldanos live in Salem. Someone who knew they had to act
fast, because I wouldn’t be there long.” Julie paused, looking at
Matt. “Let’s just say that Avram Solomon is at the top of my short
list.”

“Why Avram?”

“Because I saw through his act and I think he
knows it. I know he lies all the time, because he’s smooth. It
takes practice to be a good liar. But there are always leaks: tiny
facial movements, a gesture, the pitch of one’s voice, their
pattern of speech. No one can control them all. Avram certainly
wasn’t grieving, Matt. What’s more, I believe he’s hiding
something.”

“Well, he’s capable of anything, in my
opinion,” said Matt. “But as for Marc’s death…I know for a fact
that Avram was here in Boston when it happened. It was the first
thing I verified, Julie.”

She nodded.

“I know Marc hated him.”

She remembered her earlier conversation with
Joan. “I was wondering about Castle Cay, Matt. Who owns the
island?”

“Marc did. He inherited it from my sister,
Miriam. He never used it. Since my sister died there in 1993, none
of us have.”