Secret Keepers and Skinny Shadows: Lee and Miranda (6 page)

                   
CHAPTER 9

Present Day

R
obert had them turn the new laser satellites in Lee and Miranda’s direction. He gave orders to the techs. “I want to know everything they say and what they’re up to. I want eyes and ears on them all the time.”

The lead tech looked up at Robert. “Don’t worry, boss. We won’t miss a thing. We have everything were it should be.”

Robert loved new technology and now because of it he was sure what he had waited for all these years was finally within his grasp.

                             
CHAPTER 10

                    Bridgetown, New York, March 1962

T
he moaning wind whistled in the eaves, slamming rusted pieces of loose aluminum siding into the sides of the house, sending them screeching all the way to the ground.

Lillian was halfway down the third page when George’s big hand slammed down on the desktop, ripping the papers from under her fingers. The violent force sent her pen sailing across the room where it bounced off the dirty white wall leaving big blue ink splatters before hitting the floor and rolling to a stop against the paint chipped baseboard. She screamed and on instinct wrapped her arms around the back of her head waiting for him to smack her.

When she realized he wasn’t going to hit her, she looked up at him. It was at that moment she realized what he was about to do. Her mouth gaped open in disbelief, she begged.

“Please don’t do this George. Please don’t.”

His big meaty hands crumbled the pages into a ball as he rushed across the room to the fireplace tossing the wad of paper into the flames.

“There,” he said planting his hands on his hips whirling his upper body around his bloodshot eyes looking directly into hers. “That’ll take care of that. I don’t want to see you doing anymore writing Lillian. Do you understand me?” He hissed between clinched, rotted teeth.

She jumped as a strong gust of wind smashed a tree branch against the living room window, she watched a new crack start to grow in one of the panes.

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she fixed them on George, water leaked from the corners, running like rivers down her cheeks she wiped them on her dress sleeve, soon they were gushing, she was unable to control them, watching the flames lick and devour her papers until there was nothing left but ashes.

George glanced in her direction, then tilted his head back, as he laughed and snorted at her.

“You’re a dumb one, you are. I don’t want you writing about that murder and making me look bad,” he said. “What’s done is done. Forget about it. That old drunk got what he deserved.” He stomped into the dark kitchen, jerked open the refrigerator door, and grabbed another cold Bud from the shelf.

She could see him from where she was sitting. The bulb from the opened refrigerator door was like a spotlight, illuminating his fat, pig-faced head. She hated him. She hated him even more than when he was slapping and kicking her around.

Lillian watched George shove his stubby fingers into his baggy pants pocket, she could see his hand moving around inside, when he pulled it out his fingers were gripping the church key he always carried.

All the while he ignored her as she sat at her desk holding her head between her hands, sobbing in soft, hushed, uncontrollable whimpers, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he locked the flat hook on the waffled edge of the metal bottle cap and flipped it.

“Ah,” he said, “I love that sucking sound the lid makes as it releases the smell of fresh beer.”

He stuck his nose up into the air, breathing in the droplets of beer still hanging there.

His eyes shifted down, watching as the bottle cap slid, bounced, and rolled across the kitchen floor. It wobbled and came to rest against the other five in a round shallow spot worn into the old linoleum. She watched him with hatred in her eyes, as his pig lips locked around the opened bottle. Sucking and snorting, he swigged the beer as fast as he could swallow it. Some of the froth running out the sides of his mouth, creating white rivulets that streamed through his whiskers. When the foam reached the front of his dirty T-shirt, it expanded the wet circle that was already there.

He pulled the bottle from his lips, breathing hard.

“Don’t bother me anymore, Lillian. I’m going to finish watching The Red Skelton Hour.” He belched wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, while waddling back into the living room he plopped his wide body down into the big faded blue velvet chair.

Outside the wind had died down as fast as it puffed up.

She watched as George fell into a drunken slumber in front of the TV.

It was as though her body would only move in slow motion. She forced herself to get up from the desk chair and into her bedroom, locking the door she fell across the bed crying herself to sleep.

The next morning through tear-swollen eyes with determination in her heart she started to write again. This time she waited until George had gone to work. Sitting at her writing desk she wondered who she could contact—then the answer came to her.

She was sure Bert’s sister would believe what she had to say. She would write what she knew in the letters and mail them, one by one, year after year, to Elizabeth. Then someone else would know the truth about the murder.

             CHAPTER 11

                                    Present Day

L
ee spent the next few weeks tying up loose ends in preparation for his stay with Miranda, packing everything he thought he would need or couldn’t live without.

The sun was bright that day as he walked out to the dock keeper’s hut and found John.

John was hired by the corporation that managed the harbor to do repair work and keep the marina looking perfect for the wealthy clients who chose to moor there vessels in this expensive coastal bay area.

“How are you, John?”

“Fine, Mr. Perkins. Thanks for asking.”

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow for a visit with a friend in New York. I don’t know when I’ll be coming home. I plan to keep in touch with you from time to time. Here’s the phone number where I can be reached if you need me.” Lee shook John’s hand, giving him a folded paper with the number on it.

“Thank you, Mr. Perkins. Don’t worry yourself. I’ll look after your houseboat. Stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks again John.”

He made his way back to the houseboat, pausing every once in a while to enjoy the seascape unfolding in front of his eyes, colorful boats and yachts bobbing in their slips, on the blue-green waters of the bay. He would miss this panorama it had become part of his life. He ambled down the steps on his boat to the main deck and stood resting his back on the railing crossed his legs, folded his arms over his chest to watch the sunset. He opened his cell.

“Hi, Kid. I’ll be on the road early in the morning, arriving at your house sometime tomorrow. I appreciate your hospitality. Oh, and Miranda, I may stay with you longer than a couple of weeks.”

“Okay, you can stay as long as you want to, I’ll look forward to seeing you again. Sometimes it gets lonely rambling around in this big house. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Miranda, one more thing. I’m working on changing my attitude you could help me deal with that issue.”

“I’ll be glad to help you.”

“Thanks, Kid. Bye for now.”

He stood on the deck watching the sunset and rolling around in his mind his attitude toward Miranda.

The red ball dipped into the ocean then bright stars dotted the dark sky.

He was hoping that time had changed Miranda. He shook his head. Well, maybe it had changed him too. In a lot of ways he wasn’t the same man he had been a couple of weeks ago. He was seeing a side of his personality that he didn’t like.

He couldn’t shake a nagging feeling of uneasiness.

Before he got into bed, he set the alarm for five o’clock. That would give him a full day of driving in daylight. He didn’t like driving at night.

That night he tossed and turned dreaming and waking every hour. All the past weeks’ happenings wouldn’t leave, and his guilty conscience haunted him.

Unable to sleep, he got up, loaded the car, and before daybreak he was driving north on I-95. This would be his first visit to Miranda’s new home.

                                 
CHAPTER 12

Present Day

Bridgetown, New York

H
ours later, Lee turned into an imposing entrance, the wrought-iron gates stood open with the words Wind Swept Acres on an ornate arch across the top. Stopping the car just outside the gates, he could see the mansion was almost hidden by the winding tree-lined driveway. This is classic Miranda, he thought.

She had restored the two-hundred-year-old all-brick mansion from the ground up. The original owner was the man who financed and built the Conn Railroad.

The mountains behind the house were breathtaking; the locals called this the high peaks area. In front of the house the plush acres of manicured lawns, expensive trees, shrubs, small ponds and gardens added to the beauty of the old place.

The brick house emerge intermittently through the old oak trees guarding the cobblestone driveway with its many curves, looming large and spectacular owning the space it filled.

He pulled up in front stopping his Jag he got out. The front door opened, and Miranda strolled across the wide porch, followed by a tall, husky, good-looking middle-aged man, they descended the steps together.

“Hum,” Lee said under his breath. He wasn’t aware that Miranda had a male friend. He studied the man as he walked toward him. He looked six-foot-four, with muscles bulging on his arms, in stark contrast to Miranda’s tall, slim figure. Lee thought he looked more like a bodyguard than a lover. There he was making assumptions about people in his own egotistical way, when in most cases they turned out to be wrong.

Miranda marched right up to Lee, invading his space, stopping she stood on her tiptoes, her lips were almost touching his, and her perfume was intoxicating. Lee smiled.

“Hi, Lee. I see you haven’t lost your killer smile, it’s good to see you. It looks like you’re thinner and taller than I remember. What, maybe six-foot-six?” Her breath smelled of sweet mint. She stepped back about a foot and stuck out her hand, with a curt grin. Lee continued to smile as they shook hands.

“Six-foot-seven. I’m not sleeping too well at night—insomnia, I guess. I can see you’re as soft spoken and beautiful as ever.” Lee continued to hang onto her hand as he stared at her. She pulled her hand away.

“I imagine you can’t sleep at night from a guilty conscience.”

“I knew I could count on you for words of encouragement.” He paused for a couple seconds, looking her up and down. “It doesn’t hurt that after all these years you’re still drop-dead gorgeous.”

She turned in the direction of her friend. “Lee this is Adrian, my house-carl.”

“Your house what? What is a house-carl?”

“Well, I guess it’s a fancy word for a butler.”

Adrian reached out his hand, flashed a big smile that revealed perfect white teeth.

“Hello Lee. If there’s anything I can do for you while you’re here just let me know. I’m always around. I do the cooking, cleaning and whatever Miranda wants. So don’t hesitate to ask.”

Lee pulled his hand from Adrian’s and shook it in the air.

“Thank you Adrian. I’m glad my fingers aren’t broken.”

“Sorry about that. I forget myself at times.”

Lee smiled at Adrian, thinking, he does whatever Miranda wants, imagining what that would be. He looked at Miranda, shrugged and mouthed the words, house-carl?

As though Miranda could read his thoughts—or because it showed all over his face— she said, “Adrian takes care of the house and cooking so I’m free to do whatever I want. Don’t think you can flash that handsome face at me expecting me to melt the way Joan always did.” Miranda’s eyes flashed, then narrowed as she stared at him.

“Right on, Kid. Whatever you say.”

“How was the drive up?” Miranda said.

“It was smooth sailing all the way. Stopped a couple of times for a break, but that was about as exciting as it got.”

Lee opened the trunk and started to pull out his suitcases.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Adrian said. He pulled the bags out.

“Your place is so big. A two-story brick beauty. Are those the original pillars?”

“Yes, they were the biggest expense to restore.”

“I can see the money and work that went into the house. It looks like it was a labor of love.”

“Yes it was. There were times when I thought it was a money pit, but now that it’s finished it was worth all the time and money I invested.”

“How many acres do you have here?”

“It’s just a bit over one hundred and thirty-five.”

Lee walked beside Miranda as they approached the house, ascended the steps, crossing the porch and into the vestibule.

“This room is spectacular. You have great taste. The wide crown molding was always my favorite. The dark hard wood floors—are they in every room?”

“Yes, and they’re all original and took a ton of money to restore.”

Scanning the spacious room, he remembered Joan’s comments: Miranda fell in love with and bought the old place at auction for a great price when it was in shambles only days away from being razed. Lee remembered commenting to Joan that Miranda must be trying to reach the future while living in the past.

“Have you learned anything new about the woman and her letters?” Lee turned and made eye contact with Miranda.

“Yes, but first I need to tell you this. Let’s take a seat at the counter. Adrian brewed a pot of coffee.”

Lee sat on the stool beside her.

“About two hours ago I had an interesting visitor, the doorbell rang I thought it was you.”

“Who was it?”

“It was a nervous, geeky looking man about forty years old. He wanted to buy the letters. I told him I wasn’t interested in selling them at this time. If I changed my mind I would call him if he would leave his name and phone number. He said he would give me a thousand dollars for them; I asked him why he wanted them. He said he was a local historian and collected old letters written by people from the area.”

“Wow. Did he leave his name and phone number?” Lee took a sip of coffee and listened intently to what Miranda said.

“No, he said he would contact me again in a couple of days.”

“How did he know you had the letters?”

“That’s the exact question I asked him.” Miranda put her arm on the counter, and looked Lee in the eyes.

“What did he say?”

“He said that I told a friend of mine who told a friend of his and his friend told him that I had some historical letters he might be interested in buying.”

“Well, did you mention to your friends that you had the letters?”

“I guess I mentioned the letters to a few people I met around town in my excitement after reading them.”

“But you didn’t tell them what they said, did you?”

“Yes, but I told them not to tell anyone. I guess they told.”

“Listen, Kid, I would think you of all people especially with your background would know to keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh Lee, what harm has it done? He was just a guy wanting to buy the letters.”

“I can see a local historian being interested in those old letters, but paying a thousand dollars for them makes no sense,” Lee said.

Miranda pulled a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her designer jeans and handed it to him. He couldn’t help but notice that her nail polish matched her lipstick, a soft shade of pink.

“Here’s a note from the man who tried to buy the letters. He handed it to me just before he went to his car. He said he had to leave, they were watching his every move, and he had to get the letters before they did. I asked who was watching him and were they watching him now? He said my life was in danger too. I laughed out loud. It sounded too preposterous, like something straight out of a mystery novel. He hurried away to his green Ford, got in and drove off.”

Lee unfolded the paper and read it out loud.

“Right now is all of time that exists. All past time ends where the future begins. You should take heed of the experiences of the past as they will shape your future. The letters will lead you if you know how to follow the clues in them. You should push forward redeeming the time and your life.”

Lee stared at the note for a few minutes, clenching and unclenching his jaw thinking,
what have I gotten myself into?
He glanced up at Miranda, who was staring back at him.

“What does that mean?” he asked. “Is he trying to tell us to back off or to keep going? You should take heed of the experiences of the past as they shape your future while redeeming the time and your life. What’s he telling us? That the answers are in our research and will lead to who killed Joan’s uncle? And why would he tell us that when he was trying to buy the letters for himself, or was it for someone else?”

“You got me, Lee. Those are all good questions, and I’ll bet that some if not all of what Lilly says in her letters is true.”

Lee stuffed the note into his pants pocket.

“What do you mean ‘Lilly’?” he said. “You sound like you’re old friends with her.”

“After reading her letters I feel like I’ve known her for years. You read them, don’t you feel that way?”

He put his cup down on the counter. “Well, I feel I know and understand her, but I’m not sure I’d say I feel I’ve known her for years. We’ve got a lot to think about?”

“For right now I should get you settled. Follow me to where you’ll be staying.” Lee followed Miranda down a long hall leading to the back of the house. “You can have access to the rest of the house, except for Adrian’s quarters on the other side, and stay out of the upstairs—that’s my domain. You shouldn’t need to go up there at all.”

“What if I need to go there for something?”

Miranda narrowed her eyes. “You stay out of my bedroom areas unless you’re invited. And I don’t see that happening?”

“Okay, but I’m not that easily discouraged, even with big old hunky Adrian around.” He flashed a playful smile.

“Oh!” She stopped and stared into Lee’s sea blue eyes. “Adrian has been with me for a long time. I don’t know what I would do without him.”

“I’ll bet.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped short, turned and opened the door in front of them.

“This is where you’ll be staying, it has a full bath and a walk-in closet. I see Adrian has already brought in your bags. As I said, Adrian does the cooking, we’re not formal diners, he usually eats with me, and you’re welcome to join us.”

“Wow. This is nice.” The large room had a small seating area with glass doors leading out onto an expansive wooden deck with a couple of chairs and a chaise. Lee strolled over to the patio doors to take in the view. Stretching out behind the house was a field of grass with shrubs, trees, a small pond surrounded by chairs and cement benches for seating. The lawn stopped at the edge of a stand of tall trees that led into the forest at the foot of one of the high peaks mountains.

“Does your property go back to the woods?” Lee asked as Miranda joined him in front of the doors. She held up her hand and pointed to the distance.

“No, it goes back to that mountain.”

“It must be nice,” he said.

“The privacy is wonderful.”

Lee had to admit that Miranda provided him with all the comforts of home. He turned and glanced around the room. On the dresser on the far side of the room was an eight-by-ten framed photo of Lee and Joan. It had been taken when they were on their honeymoon. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Miranda watching him.

“I didn’t know you still had that picture. Joan was so excited to give it to you.”

“I know, and I was excited that she wanted me to have it. This is the room Joan always stayed in when she came to visit, she felt at peace staying here, we had a lot of good times together.”

“If only I had taken the time to come with her. I made a vow to solve this murder for Joan no matter how long it takes. I intend to see it through to the end. I hope you will be with me.” He turned and looked Miranda in the eyes.

“Better late than never I guess. I, too, wish you had taken the time to come and visit with Joan. She had become so lonely toward the end. Yes Lee, I will be with you to the end of this, no matter what that turns out to be. Joan would have liked to see this finished,” she said, pulling away from the moment, “let’s move on to other things.” She pointed to the closet. “You have plenty of space to put your clothes. I’ll leave you so you can unpack or I can have Adrian do it for you if you like.”

“That’s okay, I can handle it on my own.” Yeah, right. I don’t want Adrian handling my underwear, he thought.
“I’m sure Adrian is busy getting dinner ready.” He placed his suitcase on the bed, then opened it and started to unpack.

“When you’re finished, come out to the computer room, it’s down the hall on the left. We’ll have a few minutes to look at some things before dinner.” Miranda moved to the door and was closing it behind her.