Mourning Dove (6 page)

“I guess it depends on
what’s in the collection; but it doesn’t sound fair to me.”

“I guess it’s all in how
you view it. It’s western art, pieces I’ve cherished all my life. My brother is
a true Texas rancher. He loves movin’ his cows and horses. He owns most of the
county and would have been pole-axed if he’d gotten the ‘pile of paintings' instead
of his amber fields of cow dung and four-footed collection of heifers. Don’t
get me wrong. He’s happy with the arrangement and so am I. When I get to
missin’ the aroma of horse hockey and cow pies, I fly down and spend a week. It
doesn’t take long, and I start missin’ the rocky coast of Maine.”

“I enjoyed dinner and our
conversation very much, but I’d better call it a day. Thank you for your
valuable assessment of the people with whom I’ll be working.”

They walked out into the
crisp night air of September. A few minutes later, they were back in the
parking lot at Starr Shine. He pulled up beside her Sebring. “Nice little car.
It fits you.”

“I like it too, although
it isn’t very practical during an ice storm. Well, thanks again, Jonathon, for
dinner and the conversation. I think we’re going to work well together.” Sara
reached across from the passenger side of his Bronco to shake his hand.

He looked up with a
twinkle in his eye.

“Na ah,” She warned with
a grin to soften her scolding.

He chuckled again and
responded with a firm handshake.

***

After Sara Stafford’s
convertible left the parking lot, Jonathon Pierce walked over to a black Blazer
in the back corner of the lot and climbed into the passenger side. 

“Well, what do you think,
J.T.?” Matthew Farrell turned toward him. “Will you be able to get the
information out of her?”

“All in good time, my
friend, all in good time.”

“We don’t have time.
Communication has picked up in other channels. I have the impression the other
side is getting desperate. Somebody made a mess of the Braun woman’s shop;
trashed her apartment, too. Seems to me if they just wanted to search, they’d
do it without a trace, unless they’re running out of time.”

“When they run out of
time, they get careless.”

“When they get careless, somebody
usually gets hurt.”

“No, somebody usually
gets dead.”

“The suite’s bugged.”

“So is her office.”
Jonathon looked around the near empty lot. “Follow those other leads you got
from his cell phone. I’ll watch the dove.”

***

With her shoes kicked off
and suit jacket draped over the desk chair in her hotel suite, Sara pulled the
phone from her bag. After three rings she was ready to hang up.

“Cass the confessor at
your service.”

“Are you branching out or
changing professions?”  Cradling the phone by her ear Sara eased into the
recliner that was graciously added to her suite by a wonderful man named
Patrick, the manager of all things demanded by the temporary residents of the
hotel.

“How was the second
interview? When will you know if you have the job? Damn it, what took you so
long to call?”

“Let’s see. Second
interview went fine. I got the job, in Portland. I started tonight with a
dinner meeting at The Brewery, which is why I took so long to call.”

“Fantastic!” Cass shouted
in her ear. “You started tonight? Isn’t that a bit unusual?”

“I don’t think there will
be anything usual about this company, ever.”

“The president took you
to dinner at a brewery?”

“Jonathon took me to
dinner. He claimed the restaurant cooked a decent steak.”

“What happened to the president?”

“He finished our
interview in thirty minutes, offered me the job, and turned me over to Jonathon
Pierce. Jonathon invited me to a dinner meeting to discuss some of the more
general points of my new position. My official hire date is today.”

“They don’t waste time,
do they?”

“I have never seen an
interview process quite like it. They seemed anxious to get me on board. It’s
puzzling. I know jobs of this caliber usually have a three to six-week
interview process, sometimes much longer, before offering.”

“Well, let’s not quibble
about a quick hire. You’re staying in Maine, which means you’re buying the
house next door. What a wonderful time we’re going to have! Hey, you didn’t
have to fend off more hand kissing, did you?”

“He was a perfect
gentleman, although I did have a moment’s doubt when he dropped me back at my
car. Apparently I have a standing meeting with him at the end of each day that
promises to run several hours. He wants to be my mentor. So, I won’t be able to
do much about the house until the weekend. You want to do dinner on Saturday?”

“Mentor you? Is that what
they call it today?”

“It’s going to be my job
to keep it at a business level. I have the feeling he’d advance the
relationship as much as I’m willing to go. His charm would melt wax, if you
know what I mean; but I’m not interested. He’s my boss for God’s sake, and it’s
a damn good job. I have no intention of jeopardizing my new position. It’s a
gift from the heavens.”

“It sounds like you’re
going to have your hands full as it is. I’ll plan on dinner Saturday, shall we
do Chinese?”

“Yes, but I’m paying. I
want to look for furniture for the house and push the bank for a closing date.”

“When?”

“It would be great if I
could manage a closing date the week before the Columbus Day Holiday. Do you
think I can get back in for measurements before closing?”

“We’ll measure on
Saturday.”

“Do you have some
suggestions for furniture stores in the area?”

“Aren’t you bringing
anything from New Hampshire?”

“I want to bring my
books, and of course, my mother’s antique chest, her good dishes and Gram’s
silver tea set. Then there’s the golf clubs Dad gave me, my tennis racket, and
collection of movies and CD’s. The rest are all reminders of my marriage. As
you would say, that’s just bad karma.”

“There’s a furniture
warehouse in Sanford, another store in Alfred, and several up in the Portland area.  Come early on Saturday and we’ll shop around.”

Placing the phone on the
coffee table Sara headed for the kitchen and some ice water.  The phone chimed
again.

“So, what did you forget
this time?”

“It’s Ron, Sara. I just
forgot to give my wife the attention she needed.”

She took a deep breath
before responding. “Ron, I thought you were Cass calling back. What do you
need?”

“Well, I need my wife;
but you don’t want to hear that.”

“You didn’t need me when
I was there. You’ve talked to me more since I left than you did in the last
nine months. Most of the time, you didn’t know I existed.” She turned back to
the sofa in the living room area and sat on the edge of the seat. Silence
filled the phone connection.

“I also need to locate
the paperwork for the quarterly taxes. When you left on the 15
^th
the
taxes were due.”

“Before I left on the 15
^th
,
I paid the taxes. The paperwork is in the second filing cabinet in the third
drawer from the top, under Taxes, Federal and Taxes, State. I’m sure you could
have figured that out for yourself. Have you hired a bookkeeper yet?”

“Not yet, they keep
sending me young kids. I don’t trust any of them.”

“It’s a reputable agency,
Ron. Communicate with them; tell them what you need in a bookkeeper and they
will find one to fit your needs. You’re going to have to participate in the
process, or you’re never going to find someone.”

“I know, I know. I just
keep hoping you’ll change your mind. By the way, I got another reference check
on you. Didn’t work out with the first place?”

“It worked out fine. I
started work today. Where was the second reference check from?” Standing again,
she headed back to the kitchen and filled a glass with ice and some bottled
water.

“It was a bank in Scarborough. I wrote the name down but left it in the front office. I can get it if it’s
important.”

“I applied for a
mortgage; I’m buying a house.”

“Oh,” he sighed into the
phone. Long pause.

Sara tried to ease the
conversation along with a bit more information, “The house next door to Cass is
for sale. It’s close to the turnpike and the right size for me. I made an offer
on it. The bank was probably just checking references. Apparently, they do that
when you ask for a mortgage and don’t have a long work history at your current
place of employment.”

She heard silence on the
other end of the line again.

“Ron, are you still
there?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I got
distracted. I’ll call the agency again in the morning and see if I can get someone
out here to do the bookkeeping. Sara, did Carl ever talk to you about the
people he hung out with? Maybe some clubs or groups he belonged to?”

“Ron, you know I don’t
like talking about this.”

“I don’t mean to cause
you more pain. I was just going through some of his things and found some
pictures and copies of articles off some websites that don’t make sense. I
thought he might have talked to you more than me.”

“You know all of his
friends who came to the funeral. They would know. He only told me what he
thought I wanted to hear.” She took a sip from the sweating glass, set it on
the dining bar in the kitchenette, and wiped her wet hand on her skirt.

“He rarely talked to me
at all the last few years. It’s why I didn’t know he was depressed.”

“You were never available
for him, Ron, or me. You were busy building up the business, schmoozing with
important contacts. You took us both for granted.”

“And, now I’ve lost you
both.”

“So have I.”

“I’ll ask Jordie and
Stacey if they know more about his activities.”

“Go easy on Stacey,” she
said. “She just got robbed the other night. They trashed her store and stole
the safe.”

“That’s a shame. Was she
there at the time? Did she get hurt?”

“Cass says it happened at
night. Lucky she wasn’t in the shop. Jordie stayed with her and helped put
everything back together.”

“I’ll call her and see if
she needs anything.”

“Thanks Ron, I’ve got to
get some rest.”

“Have you been sleeping
any better?”

“A little bit.”

“Still having
nightmares?”

“What do you know about
my nightmares? I didn’t tell you about them.”

“Don’t get defensive. I
can’t sleep beside you and not know about them. It lacerates my heart every
time you have one.”

“You never said
anything.”

“What would you have done
if I did?”

“I would have walked
away, like I did.”

“Precisely. Tell me about
your new job?”

“Corporate comptroller
for a multinational company headquartered in Portland. They deal in satellite
communications. It’s high-powered with very little time to focus on anything
else. I think it’ll be just the thing to get my mind away from my personal
failures.”

“You don’t have personal
failures. Carl’s death was not your fault. He pulled the trigger, not you.”

“I’ve got to hang up
now.”

“Wait a minute! Sara? Are
you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

After a moment of silence
he added, “I just wanted to say you’re not to blame for Carl. Neither of us is
at fault there. And, it takes two to break up a marriage. You needed more
attention than I was able to give?”

“I’m listening.”

“I haven’t given up on
you.”

“Ron, I’ve got to hang
up. Goodnight.”

“Try to sleep well. I’ll
call again.”

When the
phone connection was severed, she tossed her cell
onto the sofa. “Oh God, I hate this. Every time he calls, the pain in my heart
intensifies. Ah, DAMN IT!”

It tears at my heart
too to see you suffer. I would bleed for you if I could. Cry it out. I’m here.

Sara sobbed out her
heartbreak, curled up in the recliner. Her head was full of sound.

I love you, mom. I
love you.

“I love you, too, Carl. I
just hurt so very much without you here.”

I’m right beside you.

“Carl, are you here?”

Silence.

“Carl, please, I’m
begging you. Tell me I’m not going crazy.”

Silence
.

“I love you, Carl.”

I know. I can feel it.
Your pain and love bind me to you.

“You are here!”

I’m here for you, Mom.
Apparently you are the only one I can communicate with.

“Why?  Better yet, how?”

The why is best left
for another time. The how appears to be through your thoughts. I seem to be
able to reach you when you are most vulnerable; when you’re upset or exhausted.

“Are you only in my
head?”

No. I’ve been trying
to connect with you for months now. I try to reach out to you in your dreams.
But you wake too soon.

“You are the reason for
my nightmares. I mean your attempts to communicate are my nightmares. Aren’t
they?”

My connection always
goes back to the night I died. I’m sorry if that upsets you. At first it was
the only way I could connect. That night at Jordie’s mom’s place was the first
time we connected while you’re awake. How is Jordie?

“He’s fine. Stacey was
robbed.”

I know. I listened to
your conversation with Dad. I’m sorry for eavesdropping. It’s not something I
have control over. Your emotions began to peak from the moment Dad started
talking on the phone. It pulled me to you.

“I feel silly talking
aloud when you’re talking in my head.” Can you hear my thoughts?

Yes, I can hear you.
You don’t have to speak, just think your communication.