Secrets (27 page)

Jeff took his bag off his shoulder and set it on the dusty road, then he reached for her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. At first his lips touched hers lightly, as though he meant to release her quickly, but he had eighteen months of pent-up desire in him and the object of that desire was in his arms. His kiss deepened, and he pulled her closer.

As for Cassie, she was at last kissing the man she loved. She leaned into him, trying to get as close as she could.

Later, she wondered what would have happened if a beat-up old pickup carrying four teenage boys hadn't come tearing down the road. They blew the horn and hung out of the cab and out of the back and yelled as they flew past, dust and dirt flying.

Cassie and Jeff broke away from each other, laughing and coughing at the same time.

“I guess we're getting close to town,” Jeff said as he picked up his case out of the dirt. “Listen, Cass—” he began.

But she cut him off. “I know, you think I'm a child and—”

“You?” he said. “You a kid? Kids don't take on responsibility the way you do. Kids can't be as good a mother as you are. Kids aren't as unselfish as you have been in taking on Althea's problems and trying to solve them.”

“Since when have you felt this way?”

“Since you left and I had time to nearly go crazy with missing you,” he said softly. “Look, about that—” He nodded toward where they'd just been. “I want to wait. I want us to get all of this done before we go any further. And I think I owe you a courting.”

Cassie smiled because he sounded just like his father. “Are you talking candlelit dinners? Trips to amusement parks where you win me prizes? Dates? Just plain, ol'-fashioned dates?”

Jeff laughed. “I guess we haven't had much of that, have we?”

“Try none. Look!” she said and pointed. “It's a store. I'll put money on it that they have Nehi cola.”

“We can only hope. Race you.”

They arrived on the front porch of the little wooden store out of breath and thirsty. On the porch was an old white cooler that was filled with ice and several flavors of Nehi cola. Cassie pulled out a peach one and Jeff took grape.

“Traditionalist,” she said, and he laughed, then went inside the store to pay.

There was a gray-haired man behind the wooden counter. “I didn't hear you drive up,” he said, then smiled, “so I guess it was you on that plane that landed out in the field.”

“Ah, small towns,” Jeff said. “I almost forgot what they're like.”

The man rang up the colas on the cash register along with two bags of Fritos that Jeff tossed onto the counter. “So why are you here in Fairmont?”

Before Jeff could answer, Cassie said, “We're writing a book about small towns that have interesting histories. We heard that this place used to be called Hinton and that you changed the name because of a murder. Do you know anything about this?”

“If you know all that, then there ain't much for me to tell, is there?” the man said.

Cassie smiled. “Sorry, but there was something about you that made me think you were a good storyteller. Excuse me.” She looked at Jeff, who had his head down. “Did you get me some of those burnt peanuts? I love those things.”

“I reckon I can tell a story a good as anybody else,” the man said. “Trouble is that today people don't have time to listen.”

“Try us,” Cassie said.

“
R
ATS
!” J
EFF SAID,
looking inside the motel room. “Two beds.”

“Don't even pretend to regret it,” Cassie said. “You had your chance in Williamsburg. Now I'm going to hold out for that courting you promised.”

In the three hours since the plane landed, they'd done a lot. With the help of the man who owned the little store, they'd called a local dealer and rented a small car, then checked into a motel. But before that, they'd listened to a story that told them not much more than they already knew—but everything had been twisted over the years.

Proudly, the man running the store said he was much too young to know all the details firsthand, but his grandmother had told him some things. Some movie star back in the 1920s had stolen the name of the town for his own, then he'd killed half a dozen people. In a moral furor, the residents had changed the name of the town to Fairmont.

“After Althea Fairmont,” Cassie said.

“I never heard that,” the man said. “My granny told me it was an old Irish name that meant ‘beautiful mountain.'”

Neither Cassie nor Jeff replied to that. They'd just looked at each other, marveling at how history could be distorted.

Now they were in the only motel within a hundred miles. Most of the rooms had permanent residents, and washing hung across the porch, but they were told that this room was kept for travelers.

“You two stayin' long?” the man at the desk asked. “Here on business? Plannin' to see the sights? Plannin' on lookin' at land for sale? I gotta cousin that sells real estate and he's got two farms for sale right now. Fairmont's a great place to raise kids. We got a bus that takes the kids to school. Only takes 'em an hour to get there. Fine school too.”

“Thanks,” Jeff said as he took the key from the man but didn't answer any of his questions.

In the room, Jeff put his bag on the end of one bed and looked around. There was dark, cheap paneling on the walls and three pictures of scenery. Both of the beds sagged in the middle and the spreads were faded and thin from being washed hundreds of times.

“I can't imagine why Hinton wanted to get out of this place,” Jeff said sarcastically.

“The story has certainly become distorted over the years,” Cassie said, looking at him. “Why do you think Hinton is so reviled here? They even have the dates wrong. The trial wasn't in the 1920s but the 1940s.” She sat down on the end of the bed and looked at the stained carpet.

Jeff sat down beside her. “Are you sure you want to look into this?” he asked quietly. “All this is connected to Althea, and you say that you don't want to hear about the things that she's been involved with in her life, but I can tell you that she's a woman who loves excitement. She's run from bullets and hidden from known killers. Her movies have taken her all over the world and she put herself in danger everywhere she went. I'm afraid you'll hear things about her that you won't like.”

“Did all the excitement in her life accomplish anything?”

“During World War Two, she brought back knowledge from Germany that some of our people think won the war for us.”

“Then it was all worth it, wasn't it? No matter what trivia we find out here, Althea's life has been important.” He was sitting close to her and she could feel the warmth of him.

“Cassie,” Jeff said softly, “I want to apologize for all the things I did to you when you lived with me.”

“You never did anything,” she said, then gave a bit of a grin. “That was the problem.”

“Yeah?” he said with a serious look. “If that was the problem, I could remedy that now.” He moved as though he was going to kiss her again, but Cassie stood up.

“I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Do you think this town has a restaurant?”

“If they do, I'm sure it's either barbecue or Tex-Mex.”

“Darn! And I was so in the mood for sushi.”

Jeff laughed. “You want the bathroom first?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said as she grabbed her bag.

 

The Tex-Mex restaurant was in the middle of downtown Fairmont. There were five stores, two of them empty, and the bank was across the street from the restaurant. They checked the opening hours painted on the door and planned to be there at nine the next morning. When they entered the restaurant, everyone stopped talking and looked at them, and Cassie felt certain that all of them knew they'd landed in a plane and had been asking questions about the town's history. She stayed close behind Jeff as he went to a table, nodding at the other customers as he walked. The waitress gave them stained menus, and soon they had heaping plates full of enchiladas, tacos, and chalupas in front of them.

Just as they finished eating, a tall, gangly kid with an enormous cowboy hat straddled one of the chrome and aluminum chairs at their table. “I hear you two are lookin' for information about this town.”

“Yes, we are,” Jeff said. “You know anything?”

“Naw, but my granny does. She used to know the murderer.”

“Hinton Landau?” Cassie asked.

“I don't know what his name was, but I heard he killed a lot of people. I think they should have left the town named after him. Maybe with some publicity we could get some tourists in this place. You two wanta buy a truck?”

“No, thank you,” Jeff said. “We're just passing through. You think we could talk to your grandmother tomorrow?”

“Sure,” the boy said. “Anytime. She don't do nothin' all day.”

“We'd like to take her a gift,” Cassie said. “What would she like?”

“A new game for her PlayStation.”

“She would like that or you would?” Cassie asked.

“Both of us,” the boy said as he got up from the table.

“How do we find you?” Jeff asked as the boy walked away.

“Ask anybody for Eric,” he said over his shoulder as he left the little restaurant.

“Why do I feel like we've just been set up for something?” Cassie asked quietly. There were people at two of the other five tables and they were listening to every word that she and Jeff said.

“Me too,” Jeff answered. “Are you finished?”

“Yeah,” she said, watching him. He didn't seem to want her to say anything else that could be overheard.

He paid the bill, and they headed outside. It was growing dark and their motel was within walking distance.

“Do you think all these stories are wrong out of ignorance or because we're being lied to?” Cassie asked.

“I don't know, but I suspect lies. But then, that's my business.” Reaching out, he took her hand and pulled her into a dark passage between a couple of buildings.

“Jeff! I don't think this is the time to—Oh,” she said as he pulled his BlackBerry out of his pocket.

“I got the kid's license number off his truck and I want to send it to Dad to check out,” he said as he quickly typed in the numbers and a brief message. When he finished, he smiled at her. “Let's go back to our palace. It's been a long day for both of us.”

Cassie agreed. They'd had beer with their food and all the events of the day were at last hitting her. All she wanted to do was go to bed and sleep for about twelve hours.

As soon as they got back to the motel, Jeff climbed onto one of the beds and began punching at the keyboard on his little machine.

“I'm going to take a shower now,” she said, and when Jeff didn't respond, she said, “And I'm going to put on my nightgown.” No response. “The one Althea sent. It's transparent.”

“Mmmm,” was all Jeff said, his eyes and fingers on the machine.

With a sigh, Cassie went into the bathroom. When she emerged thirty minutes later, Jeff didn't seem to have moved. She was tempted to ask him what he was doing, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She climbed into the other bed and was asleep instantly.

When she awoke the next morning, she turned over to see Jeff still sitting on the bed, fully dressed, and still typing on his little keyboard. If he weren't wearing clean clothes and had wet hair, she would have thought he'd been at it all night.

“Find out anything?” she asked, her voice husky from sleep.

“You don't snore,” he said, not looking up. “Which I am very glad to know.”

“Me too, and my boyfriend will be glad to hear it.”

“If he doesn't already know it, he isn't much of a boyfriend, is he?”

Cassie laughed. “Would you please tell me what you're doing?”

“Just getting some information,” he said as he turned off the BlackBerry and tossed it on the bed. “It's already eight, so you have one hour to get ready for the bank. We can eat breakfast at the same place we had dinner.”

“Then what?” Cassie asked as she rummaged in her bag for clean clothes. When Jeff didn't answer her, she looked up at him. His face was white.

“I thought you were kidding about transparent.”

“I never kid about transparent,” she said as she turned her back on him and went to the bathroom. She smiled while she dressed.

 

“My goodness,” said the lady at the bank, “this is an old one.”

“Is there any problem with it?” Jeff asked.

“None. The rent's been paid on it since”—she looked at the paper—“1926.” She looked back up at Jeff. “The bank opened in 1925.”

Neither Jeff nor Cassie said anything in answer to her silent questions.

“I don't see any problem with this if you have the key, but I think I should check with the manager. Would you wait here for me?”

“Of course,” Jeff said.

The woman went into an office that had a glass window and they watched as she talked to an older man who kept glancing at Jeff and Cassie.

“He's looking at us as though we'd given them a note saying ‘Hand over all your money.'”

“Small towns are suspicious,” Jeff said. “A safe-deposit box untouched for over eighty years. Did you see who the box was registered under?”

“No,” she said, turning her back on the manager's inquiring looks. “I tried, but she kept the name hidden.”

“If I know Althea, she had the box put under her name. She likes to see her name on things.”

“If I were as good an actress as she is, I would too,” Cassie snapped. “I don't see why you have to belittle her at every opportunity. She's done some—”

“Everything's fine,” the teller said, smiling at them. “If you'll follow me, I'll show you to the boxes.”

As they followed in silence, Cassie made a gesture of around her neck, then her wrists. At breakfast she'd told Jeff that she hoped the box was stuffed with jewels. “Maybe the ones that were stolen from Althea are in the box.”

“I told you that no jewels were ever stolen from Althea,” Jeff said. “Any jewels that were given to her, she had copied in zircons, then she sold the real ones. The woman has millions.”

“As far as I can tell, Althea never tells anyone the whole truth, so we don't know what's in the box. I'm hoping for jewels.”

So now she was letting him know that she was hoping that the box was full of jewels.

The teller used her key, and Cassie used the one she'd found under the floorboard to open the safe-deposit door. The teller pulled the long, narrow, metal box out and set it on the table. She seemed reluctant to leave the room, but Cassie and Jeff didn't move until she was gone.

Slowly, they opened the box. The only thing inside it was a folded piece of paper. Before withdrawing it, Jeff looked about the room, and when he saw the overhead security camera, he blocked its view with his body. He withdrew the paper, put it inside his shirt, closed the box, and put it back.

He and Cassie left the room. In the main room of the bank, she waited by the door as Jeff told the teller that the box would no longer be needed. Whatever was left in the account was to be sent to Althea Fairmont. Later, Jeff told Cassie that the way the teller nodded at the name made him sure that it was Althea's name on the account.

Jeff went to Cassie and they left the bank. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward a huge oak tree about fifty yards away.

They sat down on the grass under the tree and Jeff slowly pulled the paper out from inside his shirt and unfolded it.

It was a marriage license, dated 1926, for Lester Myers and Florence Turner.

“Florence Myers,” Cassie said.

“Look at the birth dates. He was eighteen and she was…” He looked at Cassie. “She was just fourteen years old when they got married.”

“I'd put money on it that they got married because they had to,” Cassie said. “Fourteen and pregnant, no doubt.”

“And I'll bet that Lester Myers became Hinton Landau,” Jeff said.

“Do you think he ever divorced Florence?”

“If he did, then he'd have to admit he married her in the first place.”

Cassie leaned back against the tree. “Okay, so let's put this story together. Lester Myers—”

“Who was living in Hinton, Texas,” Jeff said.

“Right. Lester Myers knocked up the very young Florence Turner and they had to get married.”

“I don't know the dates, but I would imagine that right after the marriage young Lester—”

“Who, as we know, was very handsome, fled Texas and went to Hollywood,” Cassie said.

“Where he became a movie star,” Jeff said. “And in Hollywood, he married Ruth.”

“Ah,” Cassie said. “Wasn't Ruth from Texas too? I wonder if she was from Hinton?”

Jeff nodded. “That would make sense. Ruth sees that Lester—who by that time had renamed himself Hinton—is now in films, so she goes to Hollywood and what? Threatens to tell the world that he had impregnated and married a fourteen-year-old?”

“That knowledge ruined Jerry Lee Lewis's career in the 1950s. I can't imagine the scandal in the 1920s. My guess is that Ruth blackmailed Hinton into pretending to be married to her.”