Dying for Mercy with Bonus Material (11 page)

E
ven without an invitation, Susannah was determined to attend Innis Wheelock’s funeral. She stood to the side and waited. When she saw a group approaching the church, she joined them, slipping by unnoticed as the overwhelmed usher busily checked his list. She took a seat in a pew toward the back.

Pulling the skirt of her dark knit suit over her knees, Susannah surveyed the scene. The church was filling with familiar faces from both the Tuxedo Park community and from the larger world outside the gates as well. Susannah noticed a few women look her way, but when she nodded and smiled at them, they averted their eyes. They knew she had been denied membership to the Black Tie Club, but if Innis was true to his word, he had never made public why he’d black-balled the Lansings. With Innis no longer around, Susannah felt secure. He could never reveal what he’d seen.

Those women had made up their minds about her, but Susannah believed she could win them over—if she won over Valentina Wheelock first. The event she had organized for the mentally handicapped was the first step. Surely when they saw that she was trying to do good work, they would come to change their opinions of her.

Already the planning had benefited her. When she’d written to Valentina Wheelock and explained her desire to host a local Special Olympics–like event and needed help with the venue, Valentina had agreed to sponsor and hold the games at the tennis house. Just the response Susannah had been hoping for. Eliza Blake’s promise to attend had been a bonus. Susannah was certain that having the celebrity there was ensuring a bigger turnout.

Appealing to Valentina’s generosity had been a gamble. Either Valentina hadn’t mentioned Susannah’s event to Innis or Innis hadn’t wanted to quash such a worthy cause just because it was being organized by a woman he’d caught shoplifting.

Watching people take their seats in the church, Susannah felt her face grow warm as she recalled the instant she knew that Innis had seen her. She’d just stopped at a nearby convenience store to pick up some milk and bread. While she stood in line to pay for them, she’d taken a pack of gum and a candy bar from the display beneath the counter and slipped them into her purse. When she looked up again, she saw Innis staring at her.

The lift she usually got from stealing something undetected was replaced with mortification. Getting something for nothing was like giving herself a reward. It didn’t matter how valuable the thing was—or wasn’t; the act itself just made her feel better, a momentary relief from the anxiety she often suffered.

Innis’s facial expression told her all she needed to know. She’d ruined her family’s club-membership chances over a pack of gum and a Milky Way.

But now it seemed that Innis hadn’t mentioned the incident to Valentina. Susannah said a prayer of thanks for that.

She also prayed that Valentina would still attend on Sunday afternoon. Valentina’s attendance, despite her husband’s death, could be interpreted as a signal that she didn’t necessarily agree with Innis’s decision to bar the Lansings from membership.

With Innis Wheelock no longer blocking the way, there was hope. And Susannah was going to do anything else she could to get into Valentina’s good graces.

I
t’s going to be okay, Mother,” said Russell, patting her hand as they sat in back of the limousine. “It will all be over soon.”

Valentina nervously pulled at the skirt of her tailored black suit and looked out the window. “
This
will be over,” she said, gesturing at the people entering the church and assembled outside. “But what will life be like without your father? And now to have lost Eunice, too…” Her voice trailed off as she reached out and touched her son’s cheek.

As the rear door was opened by the driver, Valentina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and climbed out of the car.

Mother and son waited together in the church vestibule while the casket was unloaded from the hearse and carried inside by the funeral home’s pallbearers. After the coffin was placed on the trolley, the honorary pallbearers lined up alongside the casket to escort Innis Wheelock’s body to the altar.

As she stood with the rest of the assembly, Eliza recognized all four of the men coming up the church aisle. She had been introduced to three of them at the party. The fourth was the police officer who’d insisted she stop taking pictures inside the greenhouse.

Fitzroy Heavener, his face pale and eyes downcast, looked grief-stricken as he walked slowly alongside the coffin carrying his dear and longtime friend. Zack Underwood, the Wheelocks’ architect for Pentimento, was solemn, his gaze focused straight ahead. Peter Nordstrut’s face was devoid of expression, but he cast furtive glances around the church, trying to see who else was there.
Why was he chosen as a pallbearer?
Eliza wondered. She’d gotten the impression that Innis didn’t like his political cohort very much at all.

Following the casket, Valentina faltered slightly but was steadied by her son. He was a tall, handsome young man, with broad shoulders and auburn hair. Eliza recalled Valentina’s telling her that her baby had been born with soft red down on the top of his head and that she and Innis had immediately started calling him Rusty. They had decided the more formal Russell would be the name on the birth certificate—a name more fitting for the man of substance the Wheelocks expected their son to be.

Watching the young man standing by his mother’s side and bracing her as they walked toward the altar, Eliza was so glad that Valentina had her son to comfort her now.

Father Michael Gehry stood at the baptismal font in the center of the church, with the tall paschal candle to his left, waiting to greet the body of Innis Wheelock. After sprinkling the coffin with holy water and placing the white funeral pall over it, the priest led the procession up to the altar, his eyes welling with tears at the sound of St. Francis’s “Make Me a Channel of Your Peace.” Every funeral service he performed moved him, but this one was already affecting him profoundly.

Father Gehry was absolutely sure that Innis had received God’s mercy. Innis was truly sorry for his sins, and he’d done penance for them. But for Innis that wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t believe that God had forgiven him, and he couldn’t forgive himself.

The gruesome suicide had gotten a lot of coverage in the newspapers and on television. Father Gehry knew that there were still many people, even Catholics, who mistakenly believed that suicides forfeited their chance to have a church funeral. The church’s change in practice had been such a solace for the families and friends of those who took their own lives.

As he reached the altar, Father Gehry was thinking about his homily, hoping he was in no way responsible for Innis’s death. “Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” Innis had ignored Christ’s invitation, but the priest prayed that the Gospel would bring Valentina—and himself—some comfort.

H
is palms were clammy as he waited for his turn to speak. Fitzroy reached over and patted his chest to reassure himself that the remarks he’d written down were in the pocket of his suit jacket.

After Communion, Father Gehry glanced his way. Fitzroy rose slowly, left the pew, and walked up to the lectern at the side of the altar. He made himself look out at the assembly, but, seeing all the faces, he quickly lowered his gaze and studied his speech. His hands gripped the sides of the pulpit as he began.

“When I think of Innis Wheelock, I think of so many things. He was a faithful husband to Valentina and a wonderful father to Russell.” Fitzroy lifted his head, looked at Innis’s widow and son sitting in the front pew, and said, “And I’m sure I speak for all of us sitting here today when I extend our very deepest condolences for your immeasurable loss.”

Valentina gave him a sad little smile. Russell studied the program in his lap.

“Innis was a true friend to so many of us. I had the pleasure and privilege of enjoying his friendship longer than anyone else. We grew up together in the park, we went to school together, learned to play golf together, fished and sailed on Tuxedo Lake together. When Innis first noticed Valentina, he confided in me that he thought he’d met the girl of his dreams. I was best man at their wedding and was so flattered and touched when they asked me to be Russell’s godfather. With no children of our own, my wife, Unity, and I were thrilled when Innis and Valentina included us in family celebrations and holidays so we could experience the joy of watching their son grow up.

“Much has been written about Innis and his political acumen and how he contributed his genius to Valentina’s stellar rise, so I won’t go into all that today. But his was a mind that assessed a situation quickly, set high goals, and reveled in the achievement of them. He enjoyed the challenge of a political race, was fascinated by current events, and worked tirelessly to understand the issues in our ever-changing world.”

Fitzroy paused and gazed out at his audience, waiting until every person was looking his way. “Many of you know, of course, what gave Innis the most pleasure. On weekends he didn’t even look at the front page until he finished the Sunday
New York Times
crossword puzzle. He waited all week for that thing to arrive and tossed the rest of the paper aside, going straight to the back of the magazine. He didn’t even get dressed until he’d finished the puzzle.”

Everyone smiled; some even chuckled.

“Innis loved puzzles. Any kind would do. Acrostics and jumbles, Scrabble and sudoku, Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot, labyrinths and scavenger hunts—you name it and Innis would be all over it. When he and Valentina were in Italy, Innis even got special permission to visit the Vatican’s Secret Archives. Mysteries delighted him. In fact, he once told me that figuring out the puzzles in people’s personalities helped him with politics.”

Fitzroy looked up again and noticed that some of the faces looking back at him wore expressions of concern and dismay. Did they think he would be insensitive enough to bring up the mystery of the stigmata? Of course he wasn’t that callous.

“I was Innis’s closest friend, but clearly there were things he could not share with me. That puzzles me now as I try to make sense of what happened. But there was never any puzzle about my devotion to Innis. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him, and when Valentina asked me if I would say a few words today, I couldn’t refuse. It seemed somehow fitting, I think, that the person who knew him from the very beginning would be able to eulogize him at the very end. How fortunate I feel, how fortunate we all are, to have known a man like Innis Wheelock.”

L
eaving the dimness of the church, Eliza squinted as she came out into the bright sunshine. She could see B.J. and Annabelle across the parking lot, stationed with the other members of the media. She went over to talk with them.

“How was it?” asked Annabelle.

“It was a funeral,” said B.J. “How do you
think
it was?”

Annabelle ignored him.

“It was moving and sad,” said Eliza, “yet uplifting at the same time. The priest did a very nice job.”

“What’s that in your hand?” asked B.J.

Eliza held up a small holy card. On the front was an image of the Giotto fresco of St. Francis talking to the birds, and on the back were stanzas from the saint’s Canticle of the Sun. “I’m going to keep this,” Eliza said as she slipped the card into her purse.

She looked around. “Where’s Bruce?”

“He’s over there, talking to the guys from CBS,” said Annabelle. “I gotta go get him and see if we can snag some interviews.”

Eliza watched her go. “I feel like Bruce got stuck with this assignment because I said no,” she said to B.J.

“Are you kidding?” asked B.J. as he hoisted the camera to his shoulder. “Bruce Harley loves to get on television. He’ll cover a dog show, a car show, or a fashion show, just as long as he gets his mug on the screen and scores another piece for his ‘story count.’ He doesn’t resent you for refusing to cover this funeral—he loves you for it.”

A
s Eliza was driven inside the gates of Tuxedo Park, she noticed that in just the few days since she’d been here last the trees had gotten more colorful.

The car pulled into the cobblestone-lined courtyard in front of the Tudor-style clubhouse. The mansion’s stucco walls were painted a creamy yellow and were punctuated by leaded-glass windows. A slate roof crowned the stately structure.

“I’ll be out in less than an hour, Charlie,” said Eliza as she exited the car.

Valentina and Russell Wheelock stood in the gracious entry hall, shaking hands and accepting condolences. While she waited for her chance to speak with them, Eliza noted the antique English furnishings, tufted leather chairs and settees, and heavy draperies made of tapestry. A large silver loving cup was displayed on the mantel of a huge fireplace in the center of the room, and old, well-polished brass chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

“Thank you for coming, Eliza,” said Valentina when Eliza’s turn came.

“I’m just so, so sorry, Valentina,” said Eliza.

“I know you are, dear. I know you are.” Valentina squeezed Eliza’s hand. “But Innis wouldn’t want us to wallow too long, would he?”

“No, I doubt that he would,” said Eliza. She turned to the young man at Valentina’s side. “I’m so sorry about your father,” she said as she held out her hand.

Russell Wheelock shook it firmly. “Thank you,” he said. “It’s very kind of you to come. I know my father thought very highly of you.”

“Well, I was a big fan of his, too,” said Eliza.

Eliza turned to Valentina again. “How are you holding up?” she asked, looking into Valentina’s eyes.

“Our maid died yesterday,” Russell interjected.

“Oh, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry to hear that,” said Eliza. “Eunice, right?”

Valentina nodded. “Yes, poor, dear thing. She fell down the basement steps. A dreadful accident—and the timing is just unbelievable.”

“Maybe it
is
unbelievable, Mother,” said Russell. “Maybe it had something to do with Father’s death.”

“I can’t talk about that now, Rusty,” said Valentina. “Are you still taking the carriage house, dear?” she whispered.

“Yes,” said Eliza.

“Good. I want you to make sure you and Janie come over and visit this weekend. I could use the company, and it would be wonderful to have someone young in the house.”

“Oh, no, Valentina,” Eliza protested. “I wouldn’t think of intruding at a time like this.”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” said Valentina. “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“You’d be doing both of us a big favor,” said Russell. “I have to get back to school, and I’d be very grateful if you’d be able to spend time with Mother.”

“Well, all right,” said Eliza uncertainly. “Janie won’t be with me, though. She’s going away with her friend’s family this weekend. But Mack McBride is coming home.”

“Please bring him along,” said Valentina. “It will be good to have a man around.”

Silver chafing dishes of chicken Florentine, rice, and asparagus were arranged on a long table set up in the ballroom. The funeral service had left most people who’d attended with a hearty appetite and thirst. Seeing the line at the buffet, Eliza decided to get a drink first.

“A Bloody Mary, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As the bartender dropped ice cubes into a glass, Eliza found his face familiar.

“You were at the Wheelock party the other night, weren’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, keeping his focus on mixing the drink.

“I thought so,” she said. “Who’d have predicted that we’d be
here
just a few days later, huh?”

“You never know,” said the bartender as he slid Eliza’s drink toward her.

At that point Eliza could have turned and walked away, but it occurred to her that people talked freely and openly to bartenders, and this guy could be a potential source of information.

“I’m Eliza Blake,” she said. She held out her hand.

“Bill O’Shaughnessy,” he said as he wiped his hand dry and shook Eliza’s quickly. She noticed that he looked around furtively. He didn’t want anyone to see that, she thought.

“Nice to meet you, Bill,” she said. “Have you worked here a long time?” she asked.

“Thirty years, give or take.”

“Wow, I bet you’ve seen a lot,” said Eliza.

“I guess you could say that,” said Bill. “But Mr. Wheelock killing himself by stigmata pretty much takes the cake.”

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose it does. I can’t begin to imagine why in the world Innis would do such a thing.”

“Something had to be bothering him pretty deeply,” said Bill quietly. “I guess you never know what’s really going on in another guy’s head.”

Eliza took a sip of her drink. “It’s just hot enough,” she observed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Bill put the cap back on the bottle of Tabasco.

“Since you’ve worked here in the park for such a long time, would you mind if I tapped your memory?” she asked.

He looked at her warily. “I guess not,” he said.

Eliza opened her purse and took out the map that B.J. had given her, illustrating the point on West Lake Road indicated by the latitude and longitude numbers. She handed the paper to the bartender.

“Do you know where that spot is?” she asked.

He squinted at the map. “Sure.” He nodded. “That’s the spot of one of the biggest mysteries Tuxedo Park has ever seen.”

“Really? Why? What happened?” asked Eliza.

“It was just over twenty years ago now,” said Bill as he handed the map back to her. “That was where the police found the totaled vehicle. It was smashed like an accordion, but there was no blood and there were no bodies inside.”

“And there were no witnesses to the accident?” asked Eliza.

“Nope, that’s a pretty isolated stretch of road there,” said Bill. He shook his head. “You know, it’s funny. You’re the second person to ask about that today.”

“I am?” asked Eliza with real interest. “Who was the other one?”

Bill nodded in the direction of the buffet table. “Zack Underwood, the big-shot architect, was just asking me about what happened on West Lake Road, too.”