From Cradle to Grave (11 page)

‘Well, it
was
an accident. They were on their honeymoon and they were scuba diving. Kimba had no business doing that. But she wanted to please him, no matter what. Kimba wasn’t as experienced divin’ as Guy, and she was still physically real weak from having the baby. They think she panicked and went toward the surface too fast. There’s something called the “bends” . . .’

‘Yes, I’ve heard of that,’ said Morgan.

Helene shrugged. ‘They had a . . . you know, a hearing and all. It seems that the two of them were with a group, exploring some sunken ship, so there was witnesses. Guy wasn’t even with her when it happened. He was in plain sight of some other diver. Kimba was in another part of the wreck. They couldn’t find nothing wrong with her equipment. She just panicked. They told us that panic is the number one cause of accidents for scuba divers . . .’

‘So why does your husband still blame Guy?’

‘Well, Guy Bolton, may he rest in peace, was no gentleman. He got our daughter pregnant and he really didn’t want to marry her. But after the baby was born, they did get married. Who knows? It might have worked out for them.’

Morgan was taken aback at this unexpected news. ‘Does Eden know about this?’

Helene sighed. ‘Now, she does. When she was so determined to come up here and meet Guy, Wayne told her all about his belief that it was no accident. Wayne hoped it would stop her from comin’. It didn’t stop her, as you can see.’

‘But you told her that it wasn’t true?’

Helene nodded. ‘Of course I did. Right away. There’s no reason on earth for her to go thinking a thing like that about her father.’

There was a loud blast of a car horn. Helene looked out the front door at the pickup truck parked in front of the house. ‘I’ve got to go. Thank you for your help. If you see my granddaughter just tell her Mom-mom loves her, and wants her home. Will you do that for me?’

‘Yes,’ said Morgan.

‘Bless you,’ said Helene. She hurried out the door and across the yard to the truck.

Morgan went to the door and watched until their truck was out of sight, but all the while her mind was turning over all she had heard. She tried to imagine how Eden had felt when she heard this story about her father. Maybe she didn’t want to believe it at first. And then, she arrived here, in West Briar, to a chilly reception from Guy, how did she feel then? There were a million questions buzzing in Morgan’s head. But there was no one in the family she could ask. It would have to be someone who remembered those days, and what had happened. All at once, she had an idea.

Morgan went into the kitchen where Guy had his computer on a built-in desk in the kitchen, as well as piles of recipes, and notes taped to the monitor. She searched his files and in no time, she found what she was looking for. She wrote down the information, stuffed it in her pocket, and picked up her car keys. Then, just as she was turning off the kitchen light, her gaze fell on a pair of scissors on the counter. She picked up the scissors and took them with her. She would clip those balloons off the mailbox right now, on her way out. She didn’t want to have to look at them again.

TWELVE

O
n a road through the wetlands which led to the Briarwood Marina was a row of old fishing shacks built on pilings, where, at high tide, the water rose almost to the decking. Many of these modest dwellings had been cunningly rehabbed, in recent years, to be small but comfortable getaway homes. Others remained resolutely authentic, with ripped screens and patched roofs. Fitz lived in one of the latter.

Morgan checked the number she had lifted from Guy’s computer, parked on the street, marched up to the front door and banged on it. She could see the lights on inside the house, glowing warmly against the windows. All the way over, she had been pondering what she had heard from Eden’s grandparents. It turned out that Eden had yet another reason to hate the father who had rejected her, and her own grandfather was convinced that she might not be of sound mind.

Morgan probed the thought the way she might probe an aching tooth with her tongue. What if Eden had decided to seek revenge? Morgan knew how tender-hearted Claire was. What if Claire, out of some misguided feeling of pity and responsibility, had decided to save the girl and take the blame? It made more sense to Morgan than the idea that, even in the depths of depression, Claire could have killed her husband and her child. Morgan knew it was much longer than a long shot, but it was all she had.

In a moment the door opened. Fitz, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, ran his hand self-consciously through his curly hair as he recognized his visitor. Caught by surprise, he smiled at the sight of her. ‘Hi,’ he said.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

Looking at Fitz, she flashed back to their reckless moment at Claire’s wedding. If he was thinking the same thing, it did not show in his face. ‘I had a few questions. I thought you might know the answers. Do you have a minute?’

‘Sure. I guess so,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’

Morgan hesitated. If she went into his house, would he think this was a ploy to rekindle their liaison? That was the last thing she wanted to do.

Fitz frowned at her. ‘Come on. It’s chilly out here.’

Morgan shivered, and nodded. She followed him into the small house. Inside it was sparsely furnished, but it was warm, and surprisingly neat. As she glanced around she saw bookshelves, a table with two chairs, a TV and two well-worn leather chairs facing it with an ottoman between them. The floor was warmed by an oriental rug. The small room was bathed in the amber glow of a table lamp and a standing lamp. It looked way too rustic for a bachelor pad.

Fitz indicated that she should sit in one of the chairs. ‘Something to drink?’ he asked.

Morgan shook her head, and sat on the edge of the cushion. Fitz settled himself in the neighboring chair and put his feet on the ottoman, looking relaxed. ‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ she said.

Fitz nodded. ‘No problem.’ He offered her no further encouragement. He obviously wasn’t going to make it easy.

Morgan took a deep breath and launched into her explanation. ‘I’m here because I was just talking to Eden’s grandparents. They came by Claire’s house, looking for Eden. Her grandfather told me a very bizarre story about the death of Eden’s mother. You’ve known Guy forever. You were his best friend. I thought you might know something about it.’

Fitz gripped the armrests on his chair. ‘Oh. Right,’ he said in a bored voice. ‘You mean that Guy was to blame for Kimba’s accident? Didn’t matter what the inquest said. The old man blamed Guy and he didn’t want to hear anything different.’

‘Yes,’ said Morgan. ‘Well, I was just thinking that Eden came to town with that weighing on her mind. Maybe she wasn’t quite sure whether or not to believe it. And then, Guy blew her off at the baptism.’

‘Well, yeah, but then they got together and they got along.’

‘They did? When?’ asked Morgan, startled by this news.

Fitz shrugged. ‘After the baptism. When she came here to see him.’

Morgan shook her head. ‘Came here?’

‘You didn’t know about that? I thought Claire must have told you.’

‘No, I’m sorry. Told me what?’

Fitz sighed. ‘Well, after the baptism, Claire and Guy had a big argument about Eden and his marriage to Kimba, and Claire threw Guy out.’

‘Oh, yes, she did tell me that,’ Morgan remembered.

‘Well, he came over here and stayed with me for a couple of days. But he kept calling Claire, begging for her to forgive him, going over there to talk to her. Finally, she let him come home. He was exiled to the guest room upstairs, but she did let him back in the house. Unfortunately.’

Morgan ignored the implication. ‘And you’re saying that he saw Eden during that time?’

‘Yeah, he saw her,’ said Fitz. ‘A couple of times. Well, look. I told him that he owed it to the kid to talk to her. She came all this way to finally meet him. He knew I was right. That was the right thing to do. You never really knew Guy, but he was a good man. He didn’t want to hurt that kid any more than she’d already been hurt. I mean, it never was his fault that he couldn’t see her. The grandfather wouldn’t allow it.’

‘So, he invited Eden to visit him here,’ Morgan prompted him to continue.

‘Right,’ said Fitz. ‘I told him to ask her over. She came a couple of times, before he moved back in with Claire. In fact, she may have even visited at their cottage, after Guy moved back home. Anyway, they got along all right. And I know for a fact that they all went to a family dinner at Dick and Astrid’s that last night.’

‘Claire too?’

‘Yeah. Claire was going, as far as I knew.’

‘I thought Dick didn’t want anything to do with Eden.’

‘He didn’t. But Astrid felt sorry for the kid. She wanted to help. And in the end, Dick went along with it. He’s not a bad guy. He loves his kids, but he has a hard time showing it. Like lots of guys. But let me tell you, when Eden’s grandfather tried to blame Guy for Kimba’s death, there was nobody who defended Guy more than Dick. When the death was ruled accidental, the old man threatened a civil suit. Dick was a tiger about it. He told the old guy he’d be living in his truck if he kept it up. He was fierce, defending his son. I always thought Guy didn’t give him enough credit. Dick was in his corner all the way.’

‘And yet, Guy thought it was OK to treat his own daughter like an intruder.’

Fitz sighed. ‘I’ll grant you, that wasn’t Guy’s finest moment. But she ambushed him that day. He was freaked out.’

‘He was the adult. He should have tried a little harder,’ Morgan insisted.

To Morgan’s surprise, Fitz nodded. ‘You’re right. He should have. And I know that he did when they got together. They talked for a while. I mean, obviously it was strained because Claire had kicked him out, but Guy was trying to make a connection with Eden. He took her out for a hamburger. They did all right together. She showed him some pictures she had brought of herself as a little girl. You know, that kind of stuff.’

Morgan shook her head. ‘So, I guess she didn’t believe her grandfather’s story about Guy. I mean, not if she and Guy were hitting it off.’

‘I don’t know anything about that,’ said Fitz. ‘I mean, after Guy moved back home we didn’t get much of a chance to talk about it. But from what I saw, they were fine with one another.’

‘You’re sure about that,’ Morgan said skeptically.

Fitz shrugged. ‘It looked that way to me,’ he said.

Morgan glanced at him, and looked away. She could feel his gaze on her.

Fitz cocked his head and looked at Morgan curiously. ‘Why all the questions about Eden anyway?

Morgan hesitated. The lamplight encircled them in a warm glow, and Morgan felt the impulse to tell him what she had been thinking. He certainly seemed interested. She decided to risk it. ‘It’s just that I was thinking that no one could blame Eden for wanting revenge.’

Fitz shook his head, as if she were speaking a foreign language. ‘Revenge? Revenge for what?’

Morgan was instantly hesitant, but it was too late to take it back. ‘I don’t know. I’m just speculating. What if Eden decided to pay her father back for what he had done to her and her mother?’

‘He didn’t do anything to her mother,’ Fitz reminded her. ‘They got married and she died in an accident. Period.’

‘But, what if Eden still believed that he was to blame?’

‘What if she did?’ he said.

‘Well, someone killed Guy. And his new baby.’

Fitz looked at her in disbelief. ‘Someone? Your friend, Claire, confessed. Remember?’

‘Maybe Claire knew it was Eden, but she felt guilty or sorry for the girl, and decided to take the blame.’

Fitz reared back in his chair. ‘Whoa. Wait a minute. Are you crazy? Are you insane? You’re really trying to blame these murders on Eden now? On that poor kid?’

‘Kids can be very . . . erratic. They can act without thinking,’ Morgan said defensively. Now she regretted revealing her thoughts to him.

Fitz gaped at her as if she had grown another head. ‘That’s pathetic. That is truly pathetic. I mean, I can see that you’re looking for excuses. Any excuse. For Claire. But to try to pin it on an innocent kid . . . And then act like Claire was some kind of hero.’

‘It’s not an excuse. I’m just trying to look at the possibilities rationally,’ Morgan said archly.

Fitz snorted and pushed himself up from his chair. He turned on Morgan. ‘Rational? You call that rational? It’s . . . obscene. You’ll grab at any excuse. For Claire, and for yourself.’

‘Myself?’ Now Morgan stood up as well, not allowing him to look down on her. ‘What do I need an excuse for?’

Fitz pressed his lips together as if he was trying to prevent his thoughts form escaping.

‘Go ahead,’ said Morgan. ‘Say it. Say what you’re thinking.’

Fitz’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re avoiding the obvious. Your friend confessed to this crime. Don’t you feel a little bit responsible?’

‘How am I responsible?’ Morgan cried.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe, if you’d been paying attention, you would have figured out that your friend was off the deep end . . . And if you had, maybe
my
best friend and his child would still be alive.’

Morgan blinked fast, blindsided by his accusation.

‘You must have noticed that Claire was going nuts, but maybe you felt it served her right. Maybe you were a little bit jealous of all the good things that had happened to old Claire,’ he accused her.

Morgan’s mouth fell open in disbelief. ‘How dare you say that? You don’t even know me,’ she said.

Fitz pounced. ‘You told me that yourself. At their wedding. After about your tenth glass of champagne, you said how much you envied Claire. How men fell in love with her at first sight and made fools out of themselves for her. And how that never seemed to happen to you.’

‘I never said that,’ Morgan protested, although she knew it might indeed have been something she said. It was certainly something she had felt, but she wasn’t about to admit it. She felt the need to strike back. ‘I’ll admit that I drank a lot of champagne,’ she said coolly. ‘Sorry. I don’t really remember much of anything about that wedding, to be honest with you. It’s mostly just a blur.’

Fitz held up his thumb and forefinger, almost touching, and squinted through the tiny opening. ‘Oh come on. Tell the truth. Didn’t you feel just a wee little bit of satisfaction that Claire was depressed in spite of all her good fortune?’

Morgan struggled to keep her expression impassive. ‘You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ she said flatly.

‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘I do know you a little.’

Morgan ignored this reference to their brief encounter. ‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Morgan retorted coldly. She turned away from him and left the shack, slamming the door behind her. She held her head high as she walked back to the car. By the time she got into the driver’s seat, he had closed the door to the house. She stared out at the dark, peaceful wetlands, moonlight shimmering on the still waterways, her heart pounding with anger. But beneath the anger, for some reason she could not explain, she felt humiliated. Her cheeks flamed at the thought of his scornful appraisal of her. It was completely unfair. Unjust. She had acted out of friendship, done all that she could for Claire. She was here for no other reason. But to her surprise, tears began to run down her face.

Morgan folded her arms on the wheel, and rested her head against them. She felt weary to the point of exhaustion, and her heart was aching. Fitz was an arrogant fool, but a small part of her could not dismiss what he said. As much as she would deny it, in her heart of hearts she knew that she had felt a little jealous of Claire and even somewhat abandoned by her. If Morgan was acting purely out of friendship, wouldn’t she have noticed that Claire was descending into mental illness? Wouldn’t she have insisted on taking her to a psychiatrist? Claire would have resisted, but ultimately, she could have been convinced if Morgan had only tried harder. Perhaps Morgan could have prevented the tragedy that ensued.