The Rainy Season (12 page)

In that moment he felt the saucer slip from his grasp. The trees and the sky and the woman vanished, the powerful emotions drained away. He lay across the desk, breathing heavily, getting his bearings. He was aware that a person stood there looking down at him, and after a moment, when his head cleared, he looked up. It was Elizabeth, but for a passing moment she had the face of the woman he had just left behind, and the confusion between the two made him reel with dizziness.

“ARE YOU ALL
right?” she asked, holding onto him until he was steady again. “You looked like … like you were in serious trouble.” She grasped his wrist. “Your heart’s racing. Try to calm down.” She set down the tweezers that she’d used to take the saucer away from him. He picked them up, lifted the saucer from where she’d set it, and slipped it into a manila envelope. “I wish you wouldn’t use these,” she said, gesturing at the desktop, using the urgent, frightened voice that she knew would move him.

“I don’t
use
them.” His own voice was a croak, and when he tried to smile at her, the corner of his mouth twitched so badly that he turned his face away.

“You have a duty to your daughter, you know.”

“Don’t lecture me,” he said tiredly. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head to clear it.

“I won’t,” she said, placating him, “But you have a duty to me, too. You sent me out in the rain tonight to find the crystal, and I’ll probably catch my death of cold from it. If I’m working hard on your behalf, you have to do your part, too. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“What frightens me is that you won’t hold up, that you’ll do something foolish, and I’ll be left alone. I don’t have the means to save your daughter, even if I find the crystal. You know that. What is this?” she asked, tapping the manila envelope. “Is it new?”

“I received it tonight, from my … from my boys.”

“I’m not comfortable with that at all, Mr. Appleton. What you’re doing is far too important to depend on boys. And you give them far too much money.”

“How did you fare with our Mr. Ainsworth?” he asked, ignoring her statement.

“He doesn’t know a thing. He’s innocent. I looked around for trinkets, like you asked. I don’t think he’s hiding anything.”

“And there was no indication that anything’s happened? No mention of the woman?”

“Nothing’s happened.”

“Something
must
happen, my dear,” he said.

“Soon.”

UNTIL NOW, AUSTIN
had never struck Phil as being a particularly dreary city. But now, in late winter, on a never-endingly gray and rainy morning, and with the lower deck of 1-35 flooded and traffic stop-and-go halfway back to the Red Lion Hotel, there seemed to him to be gloom everywhere he looked. He put on his blinker, edged through traffic, and exited onto the access road at Seventh, past the police station and the city jail. He turned right on Sixth Street, heading downtown, looking for an older-generation three-story brick office structure with a cafe called “Pecan Street” downstairs. A pedestrian jaywalked in front of him, right out from between two parked cars, and in that moment the first of the two cars pulled out into the street, taking advantage of Phil’s stopping for the jaywalker. Phil saw the Pecan Street sign then, right behind where the car had pulled out, and he cranked the wheel over and slid into the now-empty spot against the curb. There was a small brass sign on the building that read Benner and Girardi.

The idea that Marianne had a lawyer would have been almost exotic, given her receptionist’s income, except that she had worked for George Benner long enough for the two of them to have become friends, and in the years since that time, Benner had looked out for her interests. Phil was happy for it now—happy to let someone else decide what was what. Marianne’s death had opened a door in his life, which, all else being equal, he never would have opened himself. But nothing was ever equal, Nothing that mattered, and he had fallen into the dead center of something that would change everything, for Betsy even more than for himself. So under the circumstances, a friendly lawyer was a relief.

He had talked to Mr. Benner over the phone again yesterday, and he liked the man, if only because he seemed honestly concerned with Betsy. He was also anxious to clear up what he had called “entanglements” with Mrs. Darwin, although how Mrs. Darwin was involved beyond being a helpful neighbor Phil couldn’t right now say. Soon he would find out, though, because Mrs. Darwin was due at Benner’s office in half an hour.

He strode across the sidewalk and in through the street door, out of the downpour in seconds, climbing the stairs to the third floor where he found Mr. Benner’s name on another brass plate next to a wood and glass door. He walked into the office and introduced himself the secretary, who announced him into an intercom phone and motioned to a chair. He hadn’t sat for ten seconds before Mr. Benner’s door opened and the man himself came out, extending a hand. He was tall, heavily built, with white hair that was too thick to stay combed. He might easily have been seventy, although he seemed quick and spry for a man that age and size.

“My condolences on the death of your sister,” Mr. Benner said to him. “Marianne and I were friends. I’m really very sorry.”

“Thanks.” Phil shook his hand and followed him into the inner office.

Mr. Benner started to shut the door, then swung it open again and said to the secretary, “Luanne, when Mrs. Darwin arrives, go ahead and give us a few minutes notice before you show her in.” He shut the door again “Marianne worked for me for about four years,” he said, slumping into his desk chair.

“She told me about you,” Phil said. “About the job and all. It was obviously one of the happier times in her life.”

“She had a rough time in the years after Richard was killed and the mess that turned into, which I guess you know, and she finally took some time off work. I hired Luanne to take her place. Marianne seemed to get back on her feet, though, after a couple of years, and I managed to find her a job with Johnson Construction. I thought she was pretty happy with her work there, too.”

“That’s what I thought. She talked like she was. I guess you never know.”

“That’s the sad truth,” Mr. Benner said. “I’ve been a lawyer for nearly forty years, and it seems to me that I know a hell of a lot less now than I did back when I started. Nothing stands to reason in this world, Phil, especially human behavior. That’s the one thing I
do
know.”

“Tell me something,” Phil said. “Was there any possibility of suicide? I hate to ask that, but I’d like to know everything about this. If I’m going to be of any use to Betsy, I’d better know the truth. And I don’t mean to say that
she
ought to know. Sometimes kids are a hell of a lot smarter than we think they are, though, and I don’t want her fighting with something that I’m unaware of.”

“All right. Honestly, I don’t know what Betsy; knows. Marianne died of a stroke, pure and simple; that’s the official line. The only questionable part of it was that she was taking drugs to combat her depression when I talked to her a week or so ago, she said she was taking something called Nardil, which is another category of antidepressant, something called a Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitor, an MAOI. Apparently they work wonders for some people, but they’re risky. They used be more popular than they are today, because they’re tried and true, unlike Prozac, say, which doesn’t work for some people, although it’s safer. Lots of doctors won’t prescribe MAO inhibitors.”

“What’s the risk?”

“Elevated blood pressure. She shouldn’t have been “taking them, given her medical history.”

“I didn’t know Marianne had any problems with blood pressure.”

“Apparently she did. It got in the way of her getting life insurance when I first hired her, which meant it was fairly high and was probably chronic.”

“So what are you telling me? That she took an overdose of these pills in order to prompt a stroke? Who would try to kill themselves with a
stroke
, for God’s sake?”

‘I don’t know. There’s no evidence that she did any such thing. But a person doesn’t need an
overdose
of them to get into trouble. They can apparently react with certain foods, and so they have to be very strictly controlled. That’s what makes doctors leery of them.”

“And her doctor prescribed these things?”

“Apparently he did not. This was a matter of self-medication. Somebody gave her some bad street-corner advice.”

“Who gave her the pills?”

“You can get anything you want nowadays, pretty much. And they’re still prescribed. It’s not like they’re contraband. And even if they were…” Benner shrugged.

"This isn’t evidence of suicide, then.”

“Not that I can see. It’s more likely carelessness Anyway, I don’t think Betsy has an opinion on it one way or another. Apparently she spent that night at a girlfriend’s house, and by the time she got home, he mother had already died. Mrs. Darwin had called an ambulance.”

“Good,” Phil said. “This is complicated enough for Betsy.”

“How complicated is it?” the lawyer asked after a moment. “Forgive me for being candid right now, but I’ve got to ask you something serious. Are you having second thoughts about Marianne’s will?”

“No.”

“You’re aware of what you’re agreeing to, in the long run?”

“I knew exactly what I was signing.”

“You’ve read a copy of it?”

“Not word for word.”

“Tell me what parts of it you recall.”

“I recall agreeing to be Betsy’s guardian in the event of Marianne’s death.”

“You didn’t read the will at all, did you, Phil?”

“No,” Phil said. “Actually I’ve never even seen it Bad habit. I don’t read contracts either. I took Marianne’s word on this one.”

“And even though you knew you might become Betsy’s guardian, you didn’t think it would come to this, did you? You didn’t really believe in the consequences.”

“No, I didn’t. I never gave it a second thought, not until I got the phone call about her death.”

“That troubles me just a little. I feel I’ve got a personal stake in all this, as unprofessional as that might sound to you. I’ve got to do what’s right for Betsy, and I know Mrs. Darwin well enough to give her … how shall I put it? To give her desires particular credence.”

“I didn’t know she had any desires,” Phil said, “but I’m ready to give them credence myself if you think it’s “right.”

“I think it’s right.” He sat forward in his chair and folded his hands on the desk blotter. “I’ll throw you a very small curve, Phil. There was another will. It was a holograph will that predates the one that makes you Betsy’s guardian. It was apparently written a few months after Richard’s death. That will was notarized and was legal at the time. Now, of course, legally it has no value, “because it was supplanted by this more recent will.”

“And it was different from mine?”

“Completely. Mrs. Darwin is named guardian over Betsy and Betsy’s money. There was money in trust. Did you know that?”

“Money that my mother left,” Phil said. “I didn’t know what Marianne did with it. It would have been just like her to put it away for Betsy. I got some of the same, and I got the old house.”

“I’d say that Marianne sometimes had more faith in Betsy’s future than she had in her own.”

“Well, she wasn’t far wrong, the way things turned out. I’m not sure I grasp this, though. Is Mrs. Darwin unhappy about all this? Does she have some claim to the money?”

“No, not at all.”

“To the guardianship?”

“Legally she doesn’t have any claim to anything. She didn’t know anything about the second will until yesterday, actually. She brought the hand-copied will to me after Marianne’s death, and I was compelled to reveal the existence of the later will. Marianne hadn’t told her about it.”

“That’s unhappy,” Phil said.

“Yes, it is. Mrs. Darwin is a disappointed woman. She’s got what you’d call a grandmotherly interest in Betsy, a very deep interest, and she was hoping to keep the child close, I think. Showing her this second will wasn’t easy for me. In fact, she tore it up in front of my face.”

“Tore it up!”

“A photocopy, actually. She was … upset, though.”

“Thank God you’ve already done it,” Phil said. “She’s coming here this morning?”

“Fairly soon. There’s no reason for any of this to I hang fire. The will you signed cannot be contested. The case is closed. What we’re talking about here, quite simply, is Mrs. Darwin’s feelings.”

“That’s never simple. I’ve heard a little bit from Marianne about Mrs. Darwin over the years. I’ve even corresponded with her once or twice. There aren’t any larger issues, though?”

“None that I can make out. Just the issue of settling her mind.”

“If she’s invested time or money of her own into caring for Betsy, I’ll be glad to compensate her.”

“This doesn’t appear to be about time and money. The issue for Mrs. Darwin, as closely as I can make it out, is one of guardianship. Mrs. Darwin would be happy to adopt Betsy. To put it more succinctly, she’d be unhappy
not
to adopt her. Given her long-standing relationship with Marianne and Betsy, that would be entirely natural. I have no doubt that it would be a simple process. No one would contest it. So if you have any hesitancy at all …”

“I don’t have any hesitancy, Mr. Benner.”

“That’s noble of you. You’re a man of your word. But is your
heart
in it? That might be an odd question for a lawyer to ask, but it’s crucial. You’re a single man. You’ve got no experience with children. It’s quite likely that without Marianne’s will, you wouldn’t be allowed the guardianship at all.”

“But the will exists, I agreed to it happily, and I’m still happy that I did. I feel lousy for Mrs. Darwin, but the case is closed.”

“And if Betsy herself would rather stay in Austin and live with Mrs. Darwin?”

Phil shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I haven’t even talked to her yet. All I can say is that Betsy and I are old friends, she likes it out in California. … Has she
said
anything about where she wants to go?”