Summer Shadows (15 page)

He was chatting away. “Honestly, I didn’t really have to make up much – all the elements were there, just with different names and occupations. I may or may not have changed the ending just to punch it up a bit. Of course, one doesn’t want to embarrass the family or the innocents. As I said earlier, it’s set in the fictional town of Cheltham, but if you live around here, I’m sure you’d recognize it as Franklin right away. You did say you live around here, right?”

Now, he finally had her interest. “Are you saying that you based this book on the murder of that Franklin artist twenty years ago?”

Bernard’s face lit up. Pleased, he straightened up and his hand went to his collar to adjust a tie that wasn’t there. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Yes. The husband did it, right?”

“Ah, but did he?”

“Sorry?”

He grinned and tapped the book cover with a heavy hand. “Just because twelve bored men and women find a man guilty does not make him guilty, ma’am. When I was doing the research on this book, I went over all the court records and the articles written at the time. I talked with some of the witnesses and viewed some of the evidence, a luxury any author can afford when their brother-in-law is in the police force. I have to tell you, I’ve found plenty of room for doubt. Hence,” he lifted the novel, “this book.”

“You mean, you don’t think the husband did it?”

“Killed Stephanie Lang? Oh, yes,
he
did it. No doubt in my mind.”

Now she was confused. “Well, then…”

“What I also found, however, was wiggle room, stuff that the defense attorney tried to bring up at the trial. You see, all the evidence did mostly fit to cast Brad Lang as the perpetrator, but there were things that were never accounted for and questions that, if they were asked, the answers were not made public. I asked some of them and none of the answers contradicted my theory that Brad Lang killed his wife for the insurance. But there are still some unanswered questions, some stray pieces of evidence that refuse to be placed into the pattern.”

He leaned in suddenly, before Julia could react. She smelled pastrami on his breath, and it was all she could do to keep from making a face.

“I have taken this evidence and forged an entirely new scenario,” he said, in a husky voice better suited for a movie trailer.

She gazed at him for a minute, then asked, “So you’re saying that there’s reason to doubt that the husband, Brad, actually did the crime, but you still think that he did it. Why?”

He looked at her, puzzled. “Why?”

“Yes. I’m curious. You said there was doubt and you seem to have done your homework. So why do you still think Brad did it?”

“The jury found him guilty.”

“But you just told me that their finding is not really evidence.” she reminded him gently.

He flushed. “Well, yeah, obviously. I did follow up on all those loose ends, but when one is an investigator, you learn very quickly that in real life, not everything adds up. If you wait for all the bits and pieces to come together, you’ll drive yourself mental. The best detectives learn what loose ends to pursue and which ones to let go.”

“So, you agreed with the prosecution, that these ‘loose ends’ were unimportant?”

“Oh, yes. They were just the minutia of real life. Life doesn’t usually wrap up as neatly as it does in books. Brad Lang is the killer, make no mistake about that. But…” He picked up a copy of the book and held it, wiggling, up next to his head, in an attempt to entice her. “Did Chase Harcourt kill his wife, the lovely actress, Daphne Maxwell-Harcourt? That is the real question.”

Which I think you’ve already answered,
Julia thought. It was hard to believe that this man had been an investigative reporter. His sales pitch showed a drive and polish that would have been the envy of any used car salesman.

“So, Julia,” he said, flashing his ‘winning’ smile again. “Would you like me to sign you a copy?”

“Well, I…” Julia looked around and spotted the kids coming her way. She put out a hand to stop Bernard, but saw that he was already writing furiously on the inside of a hardcover book: “
To my curious friend, Julia…”

“We’re ready to go,” Ron said, tugging Jack along behind him.

“Great,” Julia said, relieved to see them.

“What are you doing?” Dana asked, staring at the poster.

“Talking with Mr. Bernard. He’s signing a book for me.”

Ron glanced at the author. “You’re buying a book?”

Julia repressed a sigh. “It certainly looks that way.”

“Ron, doesn’t that look like the haunted house?” Dana said. “Look at it.”

Ron frowned. “It does. Weird.”

Bernard turned pink with pleasure. Without looking up from his lengthy dedication, he proclaimed, “It isn’t weird at all. If you live anywhere near Franklin, you’re sure to have heard about the murder in the old Victorian. Here you are, Julia, all signed and dedicated.” He handed it over to her with due ceremony, cautioning, “Hang on to that volume. It may be worth a lot one day.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bernard.” She thought,
it won’t be worth even trying to sell it on eBay, thanks to that dedication.

“You wrote a book about that murder?” Ron asked.

Julia looked at him sharply. This murder, distasteful as she found it, was gripping enough to shake the boy out of his usual lethargic state and she was surprised. Of course, it must seem exciting to be living near a murder house when you are a youngster. She didn’t particularly like the idea that he was intrigued by such a bloody and violent event, but it was better than his tortured silences and withdrawn grieving. Perhaps it was a sign of healing.

Bernard was giving them a shorter history of how he started writing the book, and Julia broke in to remind the children that they had to go.

“Thank you for the book, Mr. Bernard,” she said.

“Be sure to leave your comments on my website!” he replied happily.

Julia paid for the book. It was pouring buckets when they left, and they had to run for the car, Julia with Jack in her arms. They were soaked by the time they got in. Julia started the van and looked over to make sure they were all set. Ron was studying the cover of Julia’s unwilling purchase with great curiosity.

As Julia backed out of the parking space, he said, “Can I read this?”

Julia was tempted to say yes, just to encourage him, but then she had a moment of misgiving. Normally, books like these had scenes that were inappropriate for kids. She wondered what Amanda and Tim’s policies were on the subject, then decided that she had to make her own decisions based on what she was comfortable living with.

Which, unfortunately, meant a commitment on her part.

“If it’s any good, you can have it after I read it,” she said.

He seemed content with that answer and put the book back into the bag at his feet.

Dana piped up, “It’s looks creepy.
I
wouldn’t read it.”

“You probably shouldn’t be reading books like that for a few years anyway,” Julia answered.

They drove in silence for a while. Then Dana said, “Can we plant in the rain?”

Julia looked at the sheets that were coming down. The garden had to be turned over and thoroughly weeded before planting. The mud would be terrific. Julia had furniture to assemble and a few remaining touch-ups on the room upstairs. She really didn’t want to spend the better part of the day cleaning muddy floors and boots.

“If it’s like this, no, we probably shouldn’t.” She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that Dana’s face fell in disappointment. “You can plant some of them in the pots, though, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“That will be fine. You and Jack can work on that while Ron and I work upstairs. Sound good to you?”

“Yes!” Dana chirped. “You’ll help me, won’t you, Jack?”

“Sure!”

Dana settled back into her seat with a happy sigh. “This is going to be great,” she said.

Julia, driving home through the darkening streets, felt a sudden and rather exhilarating rush of triumph.

18

I
t was pouring rain when Thursday dawned. Dana spent the morning cleaning the pots that Amelia had given her, dashing in and out of the house as she filled them with rain-drenched soil.

Julia and Ron worked, attaching chair-rail to Dana’s room, assembling a new bed they’d purchased that morning for Jack, and bringing the beds they’d found in the storage room upstairs for Ron and Dana.

“Well,” Julia sighed, brushing her hair out of her face and breathing heavily. “It’ll be nice for you to sleep in a real bed again.”

“Yes,” Ron said eagerly. “It will.”

Julia and Dana worked in the kitchen after lunch, planting seeds in the pots while Ron and Jack set up their new room. Dana was talking about school and boys and fashion when the cell phone rang. Julia’s hands were thick with dirt, so Dana answered the call.

“Oh, hi, Gran!” Dana spoke loudly to be heard over the sound of the rain pounding against the windows and the music coming from upstairs.

Julia realized that she had forgotten again to have the kids call Miriam Budd.

Dana chatted for a few minutes, talking about the rooms and the seeds that they were planting. She explained that the boys were upstairs and apparently was told not to disturb them.

She giggled a few times, saying, “How big was it? Oh my
gosh
!” and giggled again. She looked over at Julia and said, “Okay. Okay. Yep, she’s right here. We’re planting seeds in pots. Do you want to talk to her? Yes, we had sandwiches for lunch. Tuna. What did you have?”

It was all Julia could do to keep from making a face. She busied herself with the packets of seeds. After a few more minutes, Dana said goodbye and placed the phone on the counter with a little sigh.

“Who was that?” Julia asked, careful to keep her tone neutral.

“It was Gran,” Dana said, getting back on her chair. She took a pot in her hand and looked at the seeds. “She and Gramp are on the ship again. She said that it’s really hot there.”

“I’ll bet it is.”

“She said to say hi to you, but she didn’t want to bother you.”

“I see. Well, it was nice of her to call. Did she have any other message?”

“Uhhh… Just to call her tomorrow, to see how we’re doing.”

“She’s calling us?”

“No. She wants us to call her.”

“Naturally.” Julia reminded herself not to draw Dana into the silent feud. Best to leave the childish exchange of half-insults and half-hearted snubbing for the mature adults. “Well, let’s get to planting, shall we? What shall we start with?”

“String beans?”

“I was more thinking flowers in the pots. The string beans need more space and we’ll be tying them to stakes when they’re big enough. Actually, we’ll probably just plant them near the fence in the back garden and tie them to it.”

Dana was looking at her in astonishment. “They need to be tied up?”

“Yep. Otherwise, they’ll lie in the dirt and rot.”

She looked over the array of seeds with a furrowed brow. “Do they all have to be tied up?”

“Oh, no. Only the string beans, the peas, the sweet peas, and the tomatoes. Everything else either is strong enough to stand on its own, or it’s a vine that prefers to be on the ground.” She put the packet of string beans to one side. “We’ll save those for when it stops raining. How about we start with the pansies?”

Dana nodded and they ripped open the packet.

Dana insisted that they plant at least two of everything, so that Amelia could have one of each. Julia showed her how to dig the proper sized hole, where to place the seeds, and how to add the plant food to the water. Using some old Popsicle sticks that they had found in a dusty box in the storage room, they made two little signs for ‘Pansies’ in colorful marker and put the date on it. Then they placed the two pots on the wide window sills in the living room where they would catch the first rays of morning sunlight.

“When will they start to grow?” Dana asked as they headed back into the kitchen.

“It’ll take about a week before you see something. We’ll have to make sure that they get just enough sunlight and water so that they grow good and strong.”

“And plant food!”

“That we only have to do once a week. If you do more, they’ll be poisoned.” Julia poked through the remaining packets. “It’s kind of like taking care of a baby – you can’t give them too much milk or they’ll be sick.”

“I remember when Jack was a baby.”

“Do you? That was a long time ago and you were very little.”

Dana nodded. “I remember he was sick and Mom said that it was because the girl hadn’t warmed up his formula right. She was really mad because he was throwing up over everything. She told Dad that she would never let the girl come and watch us again. Can we do the Prince Williams next?”

“Sure.”

Julia slid the packet over and watched as Dana’s little fingers worked to open it. The children didn’t talk about their parents much, and every time that they did, Dana ended up in tears. Now, she was so busy trying to open the slick packaging without spilling the contents that she didn’t have time for tears.

After a few fruitless attempts, she looked at Julia in frustration. “Can I use the scissors, please?”

“Very good idea,” Julia said.

Julia was enjoying herself immensely. It wasn’t often that she and Dana had time alone together. The rain pounded outside, the boys were happily working together, and Dana was calm and peaceful. It was so nice that Julia decided that she must take steps to make sure that this happened again. Surely there were other projects that they could start doing. Maybe cooking or baking. They could bake cookies for Christmas presents this year, maybe, and then there was Easter…

Dana cut into her thoughts. “Aunt Julia?”

“Yes?”

“Are all spices seeds?”

Julia handed her the little watering can. “Some are. Others are leaves or bark, like basil and oregano.”

They carefully carried the prepared pots into the living room. These were too big to put on the sills, so Julia cleared a place on the floor, where the sun was sure to find them.

“Aunt Julia, did you ever work on a farm?”

“What? I mean, no, why?”

“You know
everything
about plants, don’t you?”

The admiration was genuine. Dana was looking up at her with something like awe, her big brown eyes with their delicate lashes so much like Amanda’s.

Julia ruffled Dana’s hair with a relatively clean hand. “No, I didn’t work on a farm, but I used to have a garden of my own when I was a little girl and my mom worked with me all the time on it. She’s the one who knows everything about gardens. She used to grow prize-winning roses.”

“Really? That’s cool.”

“Yes, it was.”

Afterward, Dana fell silent and serious. Julia noticed but decided not to say anything about it. The sunflowers were planted, watered, and placed in the living room, and then they cleaned the kitchen table and put away the supplies. Some dirt had fallen on the floor, so Dana got the broom out of the dining room.

While she was sweeping, she broke the silence.

“Aunt Julia?”

“Hmmm?”

“Um… Never mind.”

She continued to sweep the rest of the room, her brow puckered in concentration. Julia washed the scissors and placed them back in the proper drawer, then wiped down the counter. After that, there was nothing left to do; but as Dana obviously had something to ask, she couldn’t leave. She put on the kettle, found two mugs, and put tea bags in them. She located the little plastic bear of honey and poured about a teaspoon of it into each cup.

Finally, Dana stopped sweeping and spoke.

“Did my mom work in the garden?”

It seemed a lot of effort for such a simple question. Julia answered it simply: “No, she wasn’t much of an outdoors girl. She liked the flowers, though, and Mom and I would always give her a vase full for her room.”

“Which were her favorites?”

The kettle whistled, and Julia took an oven mitt and filled the two mugs. “Oh, the pink roses, definitely. But she also liked the hyacinth and the tulips, especially the pink ones. She tried to get Mom – Grandmother Rachael, I mean – to plant magnolias one year. But magnolias grow on trees and we didn’t have room in the yard.” She put the mugs on the table and sat down. “Have some tea.”

Dana left her neat little pile of dirt and wrapped her hand around the steamy brew. In Julia’s opinion, a cup of tea was always welcome, even in the middle of summer’s worst humidity. She took a sip, but Dana contented herself with dunking the bag in the water over and over again.

“So, you never had magnolias?” she asked.

“No, I’m afraid not. Your mother was very disappointed, of course, but then she discovered boys and she forgot all about it.”

Julia took a sip, remembering her sister. Amanda had been only about fifteen when she started dating, against their parents’ wishes, but you couldn’t change Amanda’s mind once she had made it up. Once she started, she was never without a boyfriend or a group of admirers.

“I remember,” Julia said, “the first prom your mother was invited to. It was at another school and the boy who had asked her only knew her from the pizza place where they both worked. Mom and Dad weren’t happy about it, but he was a nice boy and they knew his parents, so they couldn’t say no. She let me sit in her room and watch her get ready. She wore this gorgeous green dress, the prettiest dress I had ever seen. I asked her if I could wear it when I got older, but she said that it would be out of style by then. I was so disappointed.” She laughed at the memory.

Dana leaned closer. “Mom was beautiful,” she whispered.

“Yes, she was.”

Julia thought about Amanda’s golden hair and how she had envied the natural color when she was a child. Amanda never understood that – she always said that brown was just the right color for Julia’s eyes. She remembered dress shopping and watching movies together, arguing over shoes, giggling in the back seat, daydreaming about their futures, and all the things that sisters did, and a stab of pain struck Julia so hard that she winced.

“Grandmother Rachael told me that she was the prettiest girl in high school,” Dana said. She stared at her mug, her huge, dewy eyes ready to overflow.

Julia nodded slowly. “She was very pretty, but better than that, she was very loving and kind. She was smart, too, just like you.”

Dana shook her head. “I’m not very smart,” she said.

“Who says?”

“People in my class. Even Tonia is smarter than me.”

Julia frowned. “Nonsense.”

“It’s true. She gets all A’s.”

“That doesn’t matter. I know that you’re smart. I’ve seen how your mind works and it’s very quick.”

Dana sighed. “Aunt Julia, will I ever be pretty like Mom?”

Julia was taken aback. Of all the things for Dana to be worried about, this wasn’t what she had expected. “What are you talking about, Dana?”

“Mom was so beautiful but I’m just – well, I’m just… me. And I don’t have blonde hair like she does. Mine’s like…”

She stopped, embarrassed. She was going to say, “Like yours, Aunt Julia,” and realized that it was insulting. Julia had to give her points for recognizing that, in the middle of her obvious distress.

Julia didn’t care about the implied insult. She took Dana’s hand and the little girl gulped and looked down.

“Dana,” she said, gently, “Your mother thought that you and the boys were the best thing that had ever happened to her. Do you know what she told me the day she had you in the hospital, the first time I ever saw you?”

The chin was trembling. “No.”

“You and she were alone when I came in, and the first thing she did was to hold you up so that I could see. She said, ‘Isn’t she the most beautiful little girl you’ve ever seen in your life?’ Do you know what I said?”

“No.”

“I said that she was right. Your mother was beautiful, but she couldn’t believe that anyone could be as beautiful as you. She was awed by you. She never, ever thought that you were not good enough. She didn’t think she was good enough for
you
.”

Dana’s eyes were overflowing now and the little hand squeezed tightly.

Julia handed her a tissue. “Your mother was right, you know,” she said. “And you look so much like her – it’s like seeing her young again.”

“Do you – do you think she misses us?”

Suddenly tearful herself, Julia said, “Oh, Dana!”

She pulled the little girl into her lap and held her while she sobbed quietly. She rocked back and forth, stroking her niece’s hair and whispering things that neither one of them remembered later. Dana curled up in a tight little ball, one arm wrapped tightly around Julia’s neck.

This was a different crying than Julia was used to from her niece. Before, the sobbing spurts were spontaneous, harsh, and overwhelming, almost furious in their intensity. This was soft, more heartrending. There was something about it that made Julia think that this was a healing. There was a long road ahead, still, but this was definitely a huge step.