Family Matters (16 page)

Gracie was finishing the last forkful of a chicken finger salad at Midge’s. It was fairly quiet, with just a handful of tables occupied. Midge was wiping down the worn, yellow speckled Formica counter. Gracie was the only customer sitting there. She had the lucky squeaky stool. Midge was uncharacteristically quiet, chomping on her gum and cleaning with a vengeance.

“I guess I need the check when you get a chance, Midge.”

“Comin’ right up.” Midge sprayed the counter again with cleaning solution and kept wiping it down.

“Kind of quiet today.”

“Yeah, everybody’s on vacation or fishin’, including my waitresses,” she grumbled.

“Wish I could say the same.” Gracie pulled out her wallet, hoping Midge would take the hint.

“You probably could use one after all the excitement your family has had the last two weeks.”

“And how. It’s still hard to believe that Uncle Stan is gone.”

“I bet. I hear the sheriff is still investigatin’ how he died. How’d that turn out?”

Midge was now on her own fishing expedition. She pulled the check pad from her apron pocket and started writing nonchalantly.

“I think they’ve just about finished their investigation. I can’t imagine anyone hurting Uncle Stan, but I guess anything’s possible.”

“You think it was somebody who knew him?”

“I really don’t know. An accident makes more sense, but the sheriff doesn’t seem to think so.”

Gracie didn’t want to mention Greg’s revelations about the investigation until she could find out more. That information didn’t need to be on the evening news at Midge’s tonight.

“Heard that Frank and Evie were suing you.” Midge changed the subject suddenly, apparently giving up on Uncle Stan’s death. She stopped mid-chomp, her brown eyes bright with interest.

“Just one of those things.
It’s a lawyer matter, so we’re letting them fight it out.” Gracie had successfully pushed that problem to the back burner, but a rush of emotion over old friends actually suing her gave her instant indigestion. Now she was really anxious to go home.

“I’d better go.
Lots to do yet.” She pulled out a $20 bill as Midge tore the check off the pad.

“Sure thing.
Surprising what folks will do for some money.” Midge rang up the ticket on the cash register.

“Yeah.
We’ll have to wait and see what happens.” It was harder to be non-committal and cool than Gracie thought. She felt her face start to flush from the roots of her hair as she took the change from Midge. She placed a tip by her plate and slung the tote over her shoulder.

“See
ya, Midge.”

“Okie
doke, Gracie.” Midge was already headed to the kitchen.

“Gracie? Gracie Clark?” A voice from a back table caught her attention.

“Yes,” she said hesitantly. The voice did sound vaguely familiar.

“Come and join me. It’s Kay Russell.”

Kay Russell sat at the table by the front windows hung with red gingham curtains, in the larger “dining” section. She hadn’t changed all that much. She was a little heavier, and her short hair was now totally gray, but Miss Russell still had a perky smile, striking blue eyes, and flamboyant clothes. She wore a pink tropical-print capri ensemble. Her makeup was perfect, albeit on the generous side, maybe even on the body armor side. Her nails had a French manicure, and Gracie caught a whiff of Chanel No. 5 as she sat down at the small table.

“I couldn’t help but hear your conversation with Midge. I thought it must be you. I’ve been meaning to call you, Gracie, but I got so busy this last week, I just forgot. It was such a surprise to hear from you.”

“No problem. I’ve been doing a little research on high school, and I thought you might be able to help me with some names from back in the early 90s.” Gracie was frantically trying to formulate the questions she was so anxious to ask Charlotte’s old cheerleading coach.

“I’d be glad to if I can. My memory isn’t the best anymore, but I had some great girls on the squad then. In fact, your cousin Charlotte was one of the best.
Such a shame and such a waste. She was so full of life.” A deep sadness clouded the retired teacher’s face.

Gracie decided honesty was the best policy and forged ahead. “I know. It’s really Charlotte I want to talk about. I have some questions about her I hope you can answer.”

“What do you want to know?”

Gracie put her tote on the crumb-strewn floor and settled into the chair. Midge’s waitresses must really be on vacation. Midge would have a fit if she saw the mess. She had her fingers crossed that Miss R. had some answers.

“I’ve been reading through some old family papers, and I found out that Charlotte was pregnant when she was killed. It was a surprise to me. Did she tell you anything about that?”

“Why, yes, she did. It was obvious by the end of September that she wasn’t herself and needed someone to confide in. I was worried about her and tried to talk to her, but she kept to herself. It was very unlike Charlotte. She finally told me after I found her throwing up in the locker room one day after practice. Charlotte was petrified to tell her parents. She said they would make her get an abortion, or they’d throw her out, and she’d be disowned by everyone, including her sister.”

“That’s probably true, knowing my Aunt Shirley and Isabelle. Did she say who the father was?”

“No. Charlotte wouldn’t tell me. She said the father didn’t want the baby or her. He’d offered to pay for the abortion, but that girl truly wanted the baby. There was no way she would give it up. I offered to go with her to talk to her parents or the father of the baby, and Charlotte absolutely refused every time. I should have been more persistent.”

“I wish I’d known. My parents didn’t know either. Apparently, my aunt and uncle never said a word about the pregnancy. Did Charlotte say what she was going to do?”

“She was in the process of making some sort of plan the week before she died. I do know that she had decided to talk to her father and go from there. Charlotte’s relationship with her mother wasn’t the greatest, from what she told me. She thought her father might be more supportive. You know, Charlotte still planned on going to college and raising the baby somehow.” Miss Russell’s brow furrowed, creasing her makeup.

“Charlotte was in a world of hurt if my Aunt Shirley knew about the pregnancy. Good families don’t have illegitimate babies pop up, and people would have talked up a storm about one of the Browne girls getting pregnant. It wouldn’t have been pretty. Aunt Shirley had so many rules, and appearances were so important.

Gracie’s mind was racing with visions of Aunt Shirley screaming and throwing Charlotte out onto the street. Hadn’t Charlotte known she could have come to Gracie or her parents? They would have helped her.

“Then it sounds like Charlotte didn’t exaggerate her family situation. That’s very sad. Her parents were quite active in the community, weren’t they?”

“Yes, and that was the problem. Being so prominent in all the right circles didn’t allow for their children to make mistakes. Isabelle was much better at being the perfect daughter.”

“Isabelle. Yes, I remember her. She was Charlotte’s older sister, right?”

“
Three years older.”

“I seem to remember that Charlotte was having a hard time with her sister too. Isabelle must have been in college, wasn’t she?”

“Isabelle went to Niagara University. She got her teaching degree there.”

“OK. I do remember Charlotte mentioning that now. You know, Isabelle stopped by to watch Charlotte practice with the squad right before the accident. Charlotte wasn’t too happy to see her, and I think they had some words when we were going into the locker room. It may have been the same day Charlotte told me she was pregnant.”

“Really? Did Isabelle say anything to you?”

“No, I don’t remember that she did. Maybe she went to watch the football team practice. I’m not sure. It was a long time ago, but I’m sure now that Isabelle was there the day Charlotte told me her news. It was such a shock. I benched her, but we did it discreetly. I didn’t want her to suffer any more than she was already. I taped up her ankle, and we said she’d sprained it and would be out indefinitely. She could go to games and help with other things, but no flips and splits. I couldn’t allow it.”

“I wonder what she told my aunt.” Gracie was musing about the little deceptions that were piling up.

“Her parents didn’t come to football games, so I don’t think she had to explain anything to them unless she wanted to.”

“Did the other girls on the squad ask questions about her ankle, or did Charlotte seem especially close to any of them?”

“Charlotte was always good friends with Heather…somebody and another girl. Can’t remember her name, but they did a lot of things together. The squad was sympathetic about the ankle injury. It was a bad break in your senior year and all that. There are always a couple of girls who are catty, but I handled that kind for many years and survived. I have the scars to prove it.” She laughed and sipped the last of her ice tea.

“Did she ever talk about a Galahad or Lancelot?”

“Hmmm.”
Kay leaned back against the chair and fussed with her seashell earrings. “She was totally enamored with King Arthur and Camelot. She read Tennyson’s
Idylls of the King
in her junior year. Oh, you know, I think she called Bryan Murdock, ‘Galahad’.”

“Who’s he?”

“He was a substitute English teacher while Katie Reding was out on maternity leave.”

“I guess I don’t remember either one of them.”

“Katie must have started right after you graduated, but never did come back after she had the baby. Bryan was young and very popular with the girls. They all had a crush on him.  He was very good looking. Sort of a Heathcliff look and temperament. Very romantic, but not a terribly good teacher.” She stopped. “Oh, dear.”

“What?  Was Charlotte involved with…
”

“How could I have been so blind?” The woman paled under the makeup. “Bryan always seemed to be running the indoor track above the gym while we were practicing. It
would have been easy for them to well…see each other after practice.”

“So you think he was Galahad?”

“There’s a good possibility. I can’t imagine him doing anything inappropriate, but Charlotte was a beautiful girl.”

“What happened to him? Is he still teaching?”

“Not at Letchworth. He left after that year for another job. Let me see. I think he went to work for a newspaper, or was it a TV station? I can’t remember now. But he really wasn’t cut out for teaching.”

Gracie glanced at her watch. It was past time to be home. She had two play sessions to supervise and an obedience training session with Haley to get ready for the match that was only six weeks away. Plus there was a pile of paperwork waiting for her, including payroll. Gracie drummed her fingers on the red-checked vinyl tablecloth. At least she had another name to check out. He might still be in the area. She’d have to see what the computer could bring up on Mr. Murdock.

“I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks so much for talking with me, Miss Russell. It was great to see you.”

“It was very nice to see you, Gracie. You would’ve made a great cheerleader, or I always thought so.”

“I played softball, I’m afraid. Cheerleading was a little too girly for me. I was always a tomboy.” Gracie smoothed her hair back and redid the clip holding it in place.

Miss Russell laughed. “You’re right. It probably wouldn’t have been a good fit for you.” 

Gracie grabbed the tote and stood, shoving her chair under the table. “If I have a few more questions, could I give you a call?”

The clatter of pots came from the kitchen, and she heard snatches of conversation from the same area. One voice sounded distinctly like Isabelle’s. She glanced at the doorway of the kitchen, but couldn’t see anyone. She swallowed hard. If Isabelle had overheard this conversation,
it wouldn’t be good. Gracie turned back to Miss Russell, who was leaving a tip on the table.

“Sure, that’s fine. I’d love to know what’s going on with you these days. Maybe we could have lunch here sometime.”

“Things are pretty busy for me right now, but that would be fun. Thank you for filling me in on Charlotte. You’ve been a great help.”

Gracie looked back toward the kitchen. She caught a glimpse of a woman leaving by the back door.

“Glad to help.”

Miss Russell grabbed her straw handbag, with bright, pink hand-painted flowers, and made her way to the door.

Gracie’s cell phone started ringing as she turned onto Kennedy Road. She had to dig around in her bag to find it. By that time, the caller had gone to voicemail. It was Jim.

“I’m almost home, Jimmy,” she said to the message.

She turned into the driveway. Jim was standing by his Explorer.

“Sorry. I know I’m late, but I hit the mother lode of information today.”

“Good for you, but you’ll have to explain that to the kith and kin of Laney.”