Perfect Family (7 page)

“It was great,” William said. “You should have seen the two of them together.”

“So she was happy to be a mom.”

“She didn't kill herself, Randy.” William gave Ruth an exasperated look. She'd dressed and was putting things into the suitcase.

“You left on good terms?”

“Jesus, Randy. Of course. Yes.”

“One more thing. Was there a problem with the chain to the raft?”

“No,” William said. “Not as of Memorial Day. Here's the thing that bothers me. She went in without a cap. You knew my mom, right? She drilled that into us like nobody's business. So for Pony to go under the raft without a cap doesn't add up. But how could anybody kill her? I mean, that would take a person wrapping her hair around the bottom of the chain, and how could anybody drag her down there? She was too strong for that. So none of it makes sense.”

“We'll check all the possibilities,” Randy said.

“Like what?”

“It's possible she drowned before becoming caught in the chain. It's possible she hit her head. As I said, we'll know when the autopsy comes in.”

The point of Carteret family meetings was to keep everybody in the loop all the time. No secrets. “We're a democracy,” Jasper liked to say. “Rumor and misinformation can wreak havoc on families. The democratic way is to hold meetings and require full attendance so everybody can hear the same thing at the same time in the same words.”

In theory, it made sense. Sure. But real truths ricocheted around the family via a well-oiled partisan network, a whole crosshatch of allegiances. William entered the family house on Steele Road through the kitchen pantry at the back. No one had turned on any lights, and the kitchen, with its fading linoleum and old soapstone sink, was dark. He heard voices coming from the dining room.

They were already seated at the table, his father at the head. Jasper Carteret III was tall and broad, with fair, freckled skin, once red hair now shot through with white, and heavy eyebrows that nearly obscured pale hazel eyes. Pony's empty chair was to his right, and then Mira. Mira was an enigma to William—the cerebral sister,
the one he knew least. She gave him a wan smile, her eyes huge under heavy black makeup. She'd dyed the ends of her hair a bright blue.

Tinker, hands folded on the table, nodded at William. Even in grief, she was letting him know he was late. The buffet was covered with pictures of Pony, some propped up, others in piles. Andrew stood in his portable crib beside the buffet, slapping the rim and smiling.

After William sat, Jasper began. “This may well be the most difficult thing we've ever faced as a family. More difficult even than when your mother died, because your sister's death, your youngest sister, is outside the natural order of things.” He paused to let that sink in. “But we are a family, and we shall get through this together. We are strong.”

“You're right, Daddy. We will.” Tinker blew her nose and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

“What we all must have, before we go further, is a firm understanding—to the best of our ability—of exactly what happened.” Jasper opened one of those red journals he kept. William noticed a tremor in his father's hand. The old man was fighting back tears. “Here's what we know. The autopsy has been ruled negative.” He glanced at his three children from beneath those big eyebrows. “In other words, nothing was found to indicate foul play. She was alive when her hair caught on the chain.” He looked at Tinker. “The lacerations we saw along the side of her face were the result of her effort to pull free. The cause of death was drowning.”

Mira groaned. “Do we have to do this now?”

“The toxicology screen ruled out poison and drugs,” Jasper continued. “Pony's blood alcohol level was point-oh-four. That's considered a trace amount. Pony was not drunk. Do not allow yourselves to think that she was. Do not allow anyone to suggest otherwise. We must be together on this point. She must have had a beer in the afternoon. Well before she elected to swim. I'm told it takes an hour to metabolize a drink.”

William remembered the amber liquid in Pony's glass. Almost two drinks. Plus the half before he'd thrown the rest out. An hour for each drink. Two and a half hours? He'd left at five-thirty. Her last drink had been at about five. So, what? Six-thirty? Unless she'd had more to drink after he left and then went in much later. But with Andrew still on the grass? It was such a disconnect. The whole thing.

“Pony drowned,” Jasper said again. “It was an accident. A terrible accident. But Andrew was safely in his playpen. Pony must have gone in only for a quick swim. Nothing irresponsible in that at all. Not at all. Your mother used to do it, settle you children on the lawn and go for a swim, watching, always watching, of course.” William glanced at Tinker and then at Mira to see if they had any reaction. Tinker ignored the look, but he could count on Mira, the way he used to count on Pony, to acknowledge his surprise; their mother got wet, but she certainly didn't swim.

“We believe Pony meant to check the anchor. Perhaps to make sure she'd attached it correctly on Memorial Day.”

Mira sat up, reached into her purse, took out a small prescription bottle, and popped one into her mouth.

“God, Mira,” Tinker whispered.

“Relax,” Mira said.

“The police believe her hair caught on the chain where the extension—those extra links—had been added. It happened quickly. Suffering was minimal. William, I understand you were there the day she died.”

William nodded. The spotlight was on. Here it came.

“Without a word to anyone,” Jasper said.

William felt the judgment against him. He was six, eight, thirteen years old again, a kid cowering tongue-tied before the great man. In trouble again for breaking some rule he didn't even know about. The story of his life. Just then Andrew reached up to the buffet and pulled one of the pictures, and a whole slew of them cascaded into his crib. Tinker swatted his little hand. “Must not touch.”

“He wants his mother,” William said. “Cut him a break.”

“You were the last person to see your sister alive, William,” Jasper said. “We need to know about that.”

William's heart picked up speed, thrumming in his chest. He felt so guilty, so responsible, even though he hadn't done anything wrong. The three of them were watching, waiting. Maybe this was the big show, the whole reason for the meeting. Get William. Pin it on William. He stared at his hands. “She called me. Said she had the place to herself and did I want to come up. I said sure. I can work anywhere now.” Jasper tapped a pencil; it was a sore subject between them. William raised his eyes to Mira. She looked like a panda. “I couldn't work with the baby there. I realized that. And Pony was hyper.”

“Hyper?” Jasper said.

“She kept jumping up to get things. Sitting down, taking care of the baby.”

“Babies require a lot of care,” Tinker said.

“Was she expecting anyone?” Jasper asked.

“She got a phone call while I was there, but she didn't say who it was. She didn't say anybody else was coming. I don't think so.”

“And you didn't think to ask?”

“Well, no, Dad. I didn't think to ask. I realize now I should have. I should have said, ‘Hey, Pone, who was that?' and not given up until she told me, and I should have asked what the person wanted and where he lived and how he knew her and what the hell was his phone number. But then hey, I didn't know she was going to die, Dad. Now, if I'd only known that, why, then—”

“Don't be spurious with us, William.”

William tipped his chair back, something his father hated to see him do.

“That call was made from a pay phone in Burlington,” Jasper said. “The police checked the line.”

“People still use pay phones?” Mira looked around, wide-eyed. Apparently, it was a serious question. When no one answered, she
sighed dramatically, tucked her bare feet under her, and laid her head on the table.

“So you know more than I do, Dad,” William said.

“An hour later, she was dead,” His father's tone caused William to look up sharply.

“An hour? They set a time?”

“Was she down?” Mira asked, alert again. “Was she depressed or anything?”

“Were the two of you drinking?” Jasper barked out.

“I had a beer, Dad,” William said.

“And what about your little sister?”

“She had a drink. You already know that. But she wasn't drunk. You said so yourself.”

“Was Pony clothed when you and she swam? Was she wearing her swimsuit?” Jasper was spitting out the questions fast. Under those merciless eyebrows, his eyes bored into William's.

William had a flash of Pony's bare white ass breaking the water, the whitecaps in the distance. He ran a hand over his face. “Why does it matter?” he said.

“Everything matters.”

“For whatever it's worth, no,” William said.

“And were you?”

“Was I what?” William rocked back in his chair, hitting the wall.

“Wearing trunks.”

“God Almighty.” William slammed the chair forward. “Where are you going with this, anyway? Say it.”

“You guys
were
always skinny-dipping,” Tinker said. “It's a fair question.”

“Oh, big deal,” Mira said. “The Gleves go in as a whole family. Emily told me. We're lightweights compared to them.”

“Did anything happen between you that might have contributed to her death?” Jasper asked.

The question knocked the wind out of William. “I can't believe you'd ask me that.”

“I would ask the same of anyone who was with her so shortly before her death.”

“No, you wouldn't. You'd ask me. You think I did something.”

“William.” His father dropped his head, rubbed his temples with his palms. “Nothing of the sort, William.”

They glared at each other. William felt so guilty. It had to show. A nagging voice shouted,
He's right, and you know it. If you hadn't left, Pony would be alive. All you had to do was sit her down and say, “Come on, what's this about?”

Tinker took Andrew in her lap and sat back down at the table next to William. “What about Denny Bell?” she asked.

“What about him?”

“You didn't
know
?” Mira said. “He asked Daddy and Tinker if they'd caught the guy who did it or something, right, Tinker? It was the morning after, and it freaked everybody out.”

“Mira, enough. Pony's death was accidental. I don't want to encourage rumors.” Jasper cleared his throat. “Young Dennis spoke out of turn.”

“Maybe he did something,” Mira said.

“There's no evidence to suggest that anyone did anything,” Jasper said. “There's a great deal more to cover, so if I can have your attention.” He said he'd called Becker's Mortuary on Farmington Avenue and spoken to Ralph Becker personally. The wake was scheduled for Monday evening at the home. The funeral would be on Tuesday at the Congregational church on Main Street.

“Becker's?” William said.

“We used Becker's for your mother's service. They did a good job.”

“Pony hated Becker's,” William said.

“Nonsense,” Jasper said. But William remembered the day of their mother's funeral, sitting in the car with Pony. How she'd dreaded going in there. She'd said it was contaminated with all those other people passing through there on their way to the great beyond, and it creeped her out. “She would hate this, Dad,” William said. “She'd really hate having Becker's do the deed.” He let his hands drop onto the table.

“Do you have a better idea?” His father's tone of voice said what William had heard all his life:
It's always easier to second-guess than to take action oneself.

“If there was a way,” William said. “A pine box. Burial overlooking the lake somewhere.”

“I'd like you to be practical, William,” Jasper said.

“Tinker? Mira?” William said. “Somebody want to help me out here?”

Mira's Xanax or whatever must have kicked in. She had a half-mast expression. “Pony would definitely want a green burial,” she said. “You know what that is, Daddy? Or an air burial, like in Tibet, where the birds—” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said.

Tinker frowned at her. “I think we should let Daddy take the lead on this.” Her mouth was full.

Jasper continued. Everything would be as it had been for their mother's service.

The viewing would be in the morning; the funeral would follow. The notice had already gone into the paper. Jasper had written it himself and sent it to all of them as an e-mail attachment for comment the day before, and since no one had responded with any changes, he'd gone ahead and sent it in. William hadn't checked his e-mail.

Everything was moving ahead rocket-fast. Jasper removed a yellow legal pad from the manila folder, closed the folder, and squared it on the table with the tips of his fingers. He passed the pad to Tinker, who passed it to Mira and then to William. It was a single sentence in Pony's handwriting:

“Did you know about this?” Jasper asked William.

“No,” William said. Oh, man. He stared at Pony's familiar uneven
handwriting, a nervous-looking mix of print and cursive. He had to get up, away from his father and sisters. He needed to move around. “Excuse me,” he said. He went through the kitchen and out the side door, taking deep breaths. The air pressed down on him as though it had weight. Could Pony have been making arrangements for Andrew because she knew she would die? She'd been watching William from the window that day, which had been odd, but then she'd been joyous, running into his arms. He'd heard that when people decided to kill themselves, they felt great. It was one of the warning signs—a depressed person who's abruptly happy. But Pony hadn't been depressed. When they'd all been at the lake to open camp on Memorial Day, she'd been fine, her usual funny, offbeat self. Could she have asked him up to Fond du Lac to say goodbye and he'd left before she had the chance? Was she planning to tell him after Andrew was asleep, like in that play
'Night, Mother
, where the daughter explains why she's going to kill herself to her own mother and there's nothing the mother can do to stop her? Had that been it? William sat on the back step.
Don't be an asshole,
he told himself. Pony couldn't have wrapped her own hair around the chain. “Huh,” he said out loud, feeling relief.
And she would have never left Andrew on the beach. Never. Okay?
He wiped his mouth on the hem of his shirt and took some deep breaths. He went back to the dining room.

“Is Andrew something you feel you can manage?” Jasper asked without breaking stride.