Last Fairytale, The (20 page)

The door swung inward to reveal a pretty yellow room decorated in chintz and frills. Gen hadn’t seen a doily for years, and she figured it was because they had all made their way here. The place was a lace extravaganza. This must be where old tatting went to live out the remainder of its functional life.

A wheelchair with a low back was facing the window. The woman sitting in it was having a look at a little slice of San Francisco, enjoying the rooftops. Her lap and legs were covered with an old-fashioned afghan crocheted in bands of gold and white, the kind Gen imagined her grandmother would have worked on in the evenings while listening to the radio.

The manager’s petticoats crackled as she leaned to whisper in the invalid’s ear. She straightened and frowned at the pair waiting in the doorway, then looked at her watch. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

The door clicked shut.

A hand moved, a button was pushed, and the high-tech, motorized chair rolled around to face them. “Ignore her. She’s paid well to play the Doberman.”

Nadine was wearing a pink cardigan. Her legs were thin, and her useless knees hitched to the right. Black velvet slippers peeked out from beneath the fringe that trimmed the bottom edge of the coverlet.

After what Mack had been told, this woman was not at all what Gen expected. Her face was handsome and bright with mirth. Her body did not appear to be ravaged by disability or hopelessness. Clearly she’d once been full of life. A spark remained, as though she remembered every minute and had no regrets.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Vonnegon. I’m Detective Mack Hackett, and this is Gen Delacourt.”

“My name is Yates,” she said. “Nadine Yates. Call me Nadine.” She nodded at them pleasantly. “How can I help you?”

“Nadine, have you talked with your son recently?”

“Which one?”

Mack and Gen exchanged a look. “Russell,” Mack replied.

“No.” A trace of unhappiness darkened her expression. “We haven’t seen much of each other this past year.”

“Why is that, ma’am?”

“Russell is a sensitive boy. My stroke was a challenge for him, and his mood grew worse after his girlfriend left.”

“Why was your stroke hard on him, ma’am?”

“I don’t have an answer, Detective.” Nadine shrugged and looked away. “Perhaps he felt guilty because he couldn’t help me.” Her eyes wandered around the room, then stopped at a table topped with framed photographs.

Gen followed her gaze. Several of the pictures included Russell and Taylor when they were younger. A graduation. A family outing. Christmas.

“It’s complicated,” Nadine said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mack replied. “Families often are.”

Nadine’s eyes swung back. She nodded, then stared at them thoughtfully. “I love both my sons. That was hard for them.”

“In what way?”

“In every way.”

“Can you explain?”

“Please sit down, and I’ll try.” She smiled again and Mack pulled two small button-backed chairs from beneath a table against the wall. He held one for Gen, then sat in the other.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, ma’am, but we believe Russell may have been involved in a murder. We have a few questions.”

Nadine’s expression tightened.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Mack continued. “About Russell.”

“Russell wasn’t involved in any murder, I can tell you that much.”

“Can you be sure? No disrespect, but I think every mother would feel that way about her son. And you’ve just said you haven’t been close.”

“Not close physically, but we are where it counts.” She thumped her chest. “I know my boy. He’s the one who gets hurt, not the one who dishes it out. If you’re trying to make me react in some way, there’s my reaction. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Nadine fidgeted in her chair. “God knows his father had the ability to inflict pain. It’s almost in their genes, those two boys.”

“How so?” Mack asked.

“It’s a long story.” Nadine closed her eyes.

Her face in repose was surprisingly smooth considering her circumstances and age. She must be in her late sixties, the same age as Gen’s own mother. It didn’t seem right for her to be locked away. Or was she?

“My husband, Abraham Vonnegon, was ruthless.” Nadine opened her eyes and looked at the photographs one more time, then straightened and raised her chin. “He was a big man with a tiny heart. A product of his upbringing. That’s the only concession I’ll give him. He came from poor, ignorant people. He overcame the lack of education, but not the small-mindedness.”

She smoothed the blanket over her knees.

“I met him when he went to work for my father. He was charming and attentive and generous when it suited him. But beneath the façade, he was crass and cold and calculating. A manipulator.

“He weaseled his way into my father’s confidence, then into mine. He told us his wife was mentally unstable. That he’d wanted a divorce for some time, but he had to handle it with care. That much was true, and I wanted to believe him. Why would I not?

“I was naïve. My family was easy pickings. My father was older, my mother had passed away. I was an only child. All he had to do was capture us in his net and keep his true nature hidden until my father died. He didn’t have long to wait.”

“Did you divorce him?” Gen asked.

“Eventually. But I stayed too long. Too much harm was done because of my indecision.”

“But you didn’t take the company back.”

“I could not. My father left Elergene to Abraham with the stipulation that I be taken care of for life. He was an old-fashioned man, my father. And he died before the truth about his son-in-law was revealed.”

“How would you describe Russell and Taylor’s relationship?” Gen asked.

“They were never close. It deteriorated when Taylor took over as CEO. Russell knew he couldn’t have carried the responsibility himself, mind you, but it was still heartbreaking for him to be passed over completely. Their whole lives, Abraham did his best to create competition between the boys. Poor Russell always came up short.”

“Are you close to Taylor?”

“We have a good relationship, although he had to hide that from his mother. She remained vicious and bitter, even after the boy’s father and I divorced. She hated Abraham. She blamed him for everything, but no one escaped her wrath. God knows what lies she told Taylor about me when he was a boy.

“But she never succeeded in poisoning his mind. In spite of it, he loved us both and he tried to protect me. Taylor has great inner strength. Well, and he also has Patience. That’s a power that can move mountains.”

Nadine tapped her temple. “She isn’t right, you know.”

“Did she have a diagnosable illness?”

“It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to recognize the results of self-absorbed hate and bitterness.” Nadine drew in a breath. “Jealousy. Paranoia. Obsession. Do you know what vitriol and the quest for revenge will do to a person when it’s nurtured day after day?”

Mack nodded. “I do.”

“I dare say you do, Detective.”

“Is that why Abraham got custody of Taylor? The mother’s mental state?” Gen asked.

Nadine nodded. “She stalked him. Threatened us all. Poor Russell grew to hate her constant displays of drama.”

“Is that what Taylor tried to protect you from?” Mack asked.

“Yes. From her, and life, and disappointment. From his father. A lot of responsibility rests on that boy’s shoulders.”

“He seems to carry it well,” Gen replied.

“Delivering a stop-notch performance has been passed down to them.”

“You also said pain was,” Gen said. “Are you sure neither of them would act on it, could have hurt someone?”

“No. Like I said, I know my boys.”

Mack glanced at the clock, checking the time. “Any idea where Russell might be now?”

“My youngest has always spent a lot of time alone, writing.” Humor crept back into Nadine’s voice. “I suspect one day he’ll write his memoir, and I will not come out smelling like a rose.”

Gen stirred. “Why would you say that?”

“His father was a brute. I couldn’t protect Russell from him. I believe he also felt my caring and compassion for his brother was misplaced. Russell is a wonderful child, but he is an open wound. He loves me, and even so, someday he may have to tell his story. He clings to his disappointments.”

“Was his father physically abusive?”

“Oh no. Abraham couldn’t be bothered to touch anyone. Not a hug or a kiss, not a slap. Not even brushing shoulders in the hallway. Not me after my son was born, and certainly never the children. Beneath all that charm was a twisted intelligence he wielded like a sword. My sons tried to love him, but he did not care to return the emotion. They have both paid for that in their own ways.”

“I understand Taylor attended boarding school in England,” Gen said. “Was he gone most of the year?”

“That was part of Abraham’s plan to keep him from his mother. He came up with the punishment after a minor incident that made him decide to banish Taylor.” Nadine smirked and dropped her eyes to her lap.

“What happened?” Gen asked.

“Oh, a little ipecac in Abraham’s dessert after an evening that involved particularly loutish treatment of the household staff. He assumed Taylor did it, but there was never any proof.”

“Did Taylor do it?” Mack asked.

“Did his mother encourage that kind of behavior?” Gen added.

“I didn’t say it was him. Only that he was the one who paid for the prank.” She moved on. “To be sent away was the ultimate punishment for that boy. But it served to focus his energies on his studies. He excelled at his education, you know, all the way through graduate school.”

“What did he study?” Gen asked.

“Chemistry, of course. He has multiple degrees. He could have been a research scientist.”

“Why did he come back to Elergene?” Mack asked.

“Because his father decreed it. Abraham insisted both of his sons be involved. It was a family-owned business. He wanted it to remain so.”

“Why would he care if they weren’t close?”

“He had his reasons, but he kept them to himself.”

Mack jumped on that. “What else did he keep to himself?”

“Every big corporation has things they keep hush-hush, Detective. Elergene is no exception. Even in my father’s day they always contracted for a lot of government work.”

“Does Taylor ever discuss Elergene’s contracts or projects with you?”

“Never. He brings me flowers and takes me to the theatre.”

Gen smiled with her. “You seem remarkably unaffected. What’s kept you from being bitter?”

Nadine regarded her with a look that communicated strength. “We have a choice,” she replied. “No matter what happens. We choose how to respond, how to handle happiness and tragedy. How to lose in love, yet remain unscathed. I tried to instill that in my boys, but it has to be decided here.” She tapped her chest again, then allowed her hand to drop back into her lap.

“I made poor decisions. Those choices affected Russell negatively, and for that I am sorry. But I forgave myself for my shortsightedness.”

She was silent for a heartbeat.

“Do you know what forgiveness means?”

“What?” Gen asked.

“It’s acknowledging that people have hurt you, but that you had a part in creating the experience. Forgiveness is letting go of the wish that our pasts were different than they are.”

Gen nodded.

“Of course, a little revenge can smooth the way,” Nadine added.

Mack laughed at the sudden segue. “How so?”

“I wasn’t sorry when Taylor came to tell me Abraham had died suddenly. One does have to take pleasure in unexpected moments, after all.”

“Suddenly?” Mack leaned forward. “What caused Abraham’s death?”

The bedroom door opened; The Caretaker had returned to show them out. “Time’s up,” she said.

Nadine nodded. “I hope I’ve been helpful. If Russell contacts the house, we will tell him to get in touch with you. He’s a good boy. He’ll do the right thing.”

With that, she pushed the button and her chair rolled back to face the window.

“Russell is a good boy. And I know my boys.”

They left the house and crossed the street to stand beside Mack’s truck. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? I’d like to hear your thoughts about that.”

They strolled up the street to a Starbucks, bought a Grande apiece, and settled into a table by the window. Mack seemed deep in thought as he played with the cardboard collar on his cup. “What’s your takeaway?”

“Nadine thinks she knows her boys.”

They smiled at one another.

“But family only sees one side of us,” Gen continued. “And sometimes that’s the side we want them to see. My mother loves me, but she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know what I think, what I’m afraid of, how I spend my days.”

“Afraid?” The corners of Mack’s mouth tipped up. “I bet your mother doesn’t think you’re scared of anyone or anything.”

“I’m sure you’re right. She just thinks I’m an outspoken know-it-all who always has to put her two cents in. And she dismisses my opinions without giving what I say much thought. It’s the pattern we’ve adopted. Makes me wonder if Nadine’s pattern is the opposite, to accept everything without question.”

“Well, she was dead right when she said their family dynamics are complicated.” Mack tasted his coffee and put the cup down. “What do you think she’s afraid of?”

“The possibility that genetics won out.” Gen leaned an elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand.

“In what way?”

“That either one of her boys could be more like their father than anyone knows, including her.”

“Could be.” Mack nodded. “She said a lot, and she didn’t say a lot, too.”

“Such as?”

“Well, that Taylor Vonnegon is an accomplished chemist. That Russell’s memoir wouldn’t paint a pretty picture of her. That the father was hateful, and that they have the ability to eliminate each other from their lives.”

Gen nodded. “We could speculate that Russell hasn’t been in touch because he resented her relationship with Taylor. Makes me wonder if he would want revenge.”

“What else?”

“That both boys are good actors. And that they didn’t like one another.”

“And,” Mack added, “that at least one of them was enough of a risk-taker to experiment with the addition of a little something extra to somebody’s food.”

“Yeah, but if you think about it,” Gen replied, “that could have been Nadine.”

* * *

Bree broke the surface and sucked in a huge breath, even though she’d only been underwater for a few seconds. Her dive had been sub-par, her movements were jerky, and her heart was trying to beat out of her chest with every stroke.

Too bad. It was time to get back on the horse, and that’s all there was to it. Feel the fear and do it anyway.

She clung to the tile coping of the pool until her breathing regulated, then pushed off into a lazy backstroke and began a slow run up the center lane.

Flip turn and back.

Flip turn and back.

Before long, she was on autopilot. It felt good to be back in the familiar groove.

She was starting to think that night in the bay had been a gift. True, it had taken days to process the enormity of what had happened, both physically and mentally. Her body had recovered and bore few reminders of the hardship she’d endured.

But her mind was forever altered. How could anyone survive something like that and not take it as a sign that they weren’t done with this life?

Everything was more vivid now. Each morning when she opened her eyes, she felt grateful. Every moment had more clarity than any she’d lived prior to that dive into the bay.

She saw the world through a different pair of eyes, and her vision was crystal clear. She felt peace combined with the urgency to get out and get busy.

Doing what, though? That was the question. And while the answer hadn’t presented itself, she was sure it would come.

She rolled into a sidestroke and swam with an effortlessness she hadn’t felt the last time she went through the motions. It
had
been life-altering. If she could come through that, nothing else could touch her.

Unless she allowed it to.

Bree imagined her mother’s face and smiled, happy that she’d found her again. “Thank you, Momma,” she whispered, then pushed off and stroked back to the other end.

She swam underwater the last few yards. When she reached the edge, she closed her eyes and pulled herself to the surface.

When she opened them again, she screamed.