The Puzzle (24 page)

“Oh, that was convenient, wasn’t it? What else haven’t you told me that was a half-truth?”

He propped his feet up on his desk. “Not much else,”

“Why did you sit there when I was last here and misrepresent the facts? Didn’t you realize I would eventually find out? Did you really think I would throw in the towel so quick?”

“Frankly, I did, Sam. You used to be so predictable. I would have bet on the odds. I’ve known you quite a while and you’ve always been afraid of your own shadow.”

“Not any more.”

“Okay, okay. You’ve made your point. It’s obvious you’re upset. Have a seat and let’s talk this through.” He leaned forward. “Now, what do you want to know?”

“How about we start with that driving record? Why were you so evasive before?”

“I was questioned on the night the Blackburns were killed.”

I fell into the chair. Maybe I wasn’t up to hearing this after all. “…What about that night?”

“Do you remember the old guy who reported seeing a truck driving past him as he approached the curve the night of the Blackburn’s accident?”

“Yes. His name was Carl Bently. He mentioned seeing a large T on the side of the truck that sped past him. How could that possibly have anything to do with you?”

“Every day I drive the Thompson Construction truck. Now do you understand?”

“Oh, my God! You? You were driving the truck?”

“…I wasn’t, …Stephen was. He borrowed it from me.”

“You’re telling me he was responsible for their accident?” I asked, now confused. “I can’t believe this!”

“Hold on a sec! Let me explain. At first, the authorities thought he was. You see, Stephen had dropped off a friend and was heading down to Franklin driving real fast out of town.”

“Yeah, then what?” I prompted, impatient to hear the rest.

“A witness saw Stephen behind the wheel when he peeled out from a light on the edge of town, driving recklessly and aggressively, passing cars. Unfortunately, his driving skills were impaired and he finally skidded off the road and into the bushes, his tire stuck in a culvert. He was shaken up when he called me on my cell, saying he couldn’t back up to get out, confessing he had one too many drinks.” Mike shook his head.

“I got a ride from one of our carpenters, and we were able to use the winch. I pulled out the truck and sent Joe on his way. Since Stephen was in no shape to drive, I got behind the wheel to drive him down to Franklin to sober him up. We passed Bently further down the road, well after that dangerous curve by about fifteen minutes. His car stood out in my mind because he was creeping along at around twenty-five.”

“What about Carl’s recollection about the truck with the T on the side that he claims he saw just before the crash sight near the curve?” I asked.

“That was our truck all right, but we didn’t pass the Blackburn’s car on the curve. Although the fog slowed us down that night, the accident didn’t happen until after we got to Franklin, about the same time we were sitting in the local diner having coffee.”

“What about Carl
Bently’s
story?” I asked.

“The only thing the authorities finally figured out was the Blackburn’s car must have passed while we were pulling my truck out and that Carl was so shaken up by the accident scene and what he saw down in the gorge, that he must have gotten the time mixed up in his mind. It’s so curvy that the lights disappear in and out all the time. He probably wasn’t keeping track of how many passed him, that’s all. My truck stuck out in his mind because of the lettering. They later found out that he also had distorted vision problems at night from headlight glare.”

“But how did you end up with a record?” I asked, still confused.

“A cop was riding behind us into Franklin and because of Stephen’s condition, like I told you, I was the one driving. You can guess the rest. I got the ticket.”

“Not for drunken driving?”

“No. I was perfectly sober and all my paperwork checked out,” he said.

“So, how did your driving record end up being affected?” I asked.

“I was upset with Stephen and yelling at him for drinking and driving and got distracted. I was ticketed for going ten miles over the speed limit and had blown a stop sign as I entered town. Oh, and I also had a broken taillight.”

“What about the Blackburns? When did Stephen find out about their accident?”

“I made him sleep at my place. Initially, he felt responsible when the police called his cell early the next morning. Later, Jack and I, and even Ben told him the authorities concluded they probably got disoriented in the fog and just plowed through the safety guardrail and went over. It could have happened to anyone. Stephen was so upset, he wanted to pack up and leave town. He saw no reason to stay. We finally convinced him to take up Jack’s offer of college and afterward, a full time job at his company.”

“Did you ever find out why Stephen had so much to drink and was acting so recklessly behind the wheel to begin with?” I asked.

“No. He was tight-lipped and wouldn’t say anything. He merely thanked me for coming to his rescue. He did say he was foolish to get behind the wheel in that condition, but at the time, just wasn’t thinking straight. Other than that, he would not let on what it was all about. Like I had said in the beginning, we weren’t that close, Stephen and I, but each of us would always be there to help the other, no questions asked.”

“Do you recall Stephen ever acting out of the ordinary like this again after that one particular incident?”

“Yeah, the night of his car crash. I believe he had been at Martha’s that night.”

“I knew they were acquainted. I heard from someone recently they were very close. Could that be true? Martha never mentioned being that close to Stephen.”

“I’m surprised about any kind of relationship between them. Do you mind me asking who told you about Martha and Stephen?”

“No, of course not. It was Ben. Why?”

“Figures. Like I always say, in this town, nothing stays buried for long. Someone is always digging something up.”

Chapter 46

Why Didn’t You Say Something?

I waited until Martha came in for work on Thursday afternoon before confronting her. Why she was silent on the subject of Stephen was odd, but I figured I’d give her the benefit of the doubt. What caught me by surprise was Mike’s contrasting statement regarding a close relationship between Martha and Stephen. Was Ben being level with me, or conveniently steering me in the wrong direction? I would soon find out. The bell rang over the door as Martha entered.

“Well, howdy, Samantha. Isn’t this weather great?”

“Sure is. How about we have a quick cup of tea before starting for the afternoon?” I offered. “There are a few things I would like to go over with you first.”

“Sure. That sounds good to me. My arthritis is not acting up and the weather seems like we’re in for a warm stretch. I’ll get the cups.”

When
we were settled by the window overlooking the gardens
, I jumped right in. Why bother with formalities? We knew each other fairly well. Besides, I was tired of getting the run-around from everybody.

“Martha. Let me be perfectly straight with you. What was the close relationship you had with Stephen? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

Martha tried to brush it off with a wave of her hand, but after seeing the determined look I gave her, stopped. “My, we are direct. Not beating around the bush today, are we?”

“No. And frankly, I’m getting tired of all the run-around I’ve been handed lately.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I probably should have said something before this, but didn’t think you would get as far as you have. …You have proven to be quite tenacious, you know.”

“I guess I should take that as a compliment?”

“Hey, Sam. It’s me, Martha, who’s talking. Not some stranger off the street, remember? And I don’t blame you one bit for being upset.”

“Well? What do you have to say? Why didn’t you tell me about you and Stephen? Why were you playing along regarding my doubts concerning Stephen?”

“I had my reasons. Give me a chance and I’ll try to explain. I know that once you hear me out, you’ll believe me.”

“That’s just it. I’m drowning in distrust. I’ve been led around like I’m in a three-ring circus.” I got up and started to pace back and forth. “Now tell me. When did all this start?”

“Stephen approached me quite a while ago about his frustration in trying to trace the records from the orphanage, and the brick walls he was being faced with. No one wanted to cooperate by giving him any useful information. He finally came to me for some help.”

“Why did he come to you, specifically?”

“Stephen knew I was a long-time resident and had numerous relationships with some individuals who might know or recall information about his past. Plus, we had been on friendly terms, and he felt I was someone he could trust.”

“But why you, Martha? Why not Jack or Barbara?”

“Stephen didn’t want to raise any suspicion as to what he was after. So, taking a long shot, he chose me.”

“Why?”

“I was not a part of that close group he had a relationship with all those years ago, and he didn’t want to get any one’s hopes up.”

“Hopes up about what?”

She looked at me, unsure how to phrase her next thoughts. “That he might be close to finding out who his real parents were.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Stephen said he had been working on it for a long time, and was close to finding out for certain. I have to admit, his research was quite impressive.”

“Did he give you any hint as to who they might be? Did they come from around here?”

“I don’t know, Sam. He wouldn’t show me all of it, but he did mention how excited he was to be on the verge of knowing once and for all. It was obvious he was relieved to have confided in someone. I guess all that secrecy of what he was doing all those years was finally getting to him. He was all stressed out about it.”

Martha’s story certainly explained his strange behavior toward the end of the last months he was alive. It made his actions more understandable.

She leaned in. “By the way, who told you about Stephen and me?”

“Ben did. But, Martha, I still can’t understand why you didn’t say something to me.”

She faltered. …“That’s because I was afraid I might actually be …his mother.”

Chapter 47

Adapting And Adopting

What?

What did she just tell me?
Was there something in the water in this town?

I could write a book on this. Come to think of it, I was doing just that.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Trust me,” Martha said. “It sounds farfetched, but it’s the truth.”

“Do you think Stephen was aware of this off the wall possibility?”

“No. I don’t think so, or he would have mentioned something to me.”

“How did you possibly make the connection with Stephen, of all people?”

“When I was younger and romantically involved with Carl Bently, I discovered that I was pregnant with his child. It was overwhelming because I had no one to turn to. I was at a complete loss as to what to do. It was a different time back then. You just didn’t go and have a baby on your own. You would have been disgraced and shunned from the townsfolk.”

“Wait a minute. You told me a while ago that you and Carl were high school sweethearts.”

“Yes.”

“Then, how did you get pregnant while you were high school sweethearts and still be Stephen’s mother at your age? Stephen was in his late thirties and you are seventy. How do you explain that?” At least my math skills were still intact.

What was I missing here?

“That’s a fair enough question, and I want you to know that I don’t feel guilty about what happened. No one knows about this except me, and now you. We were in our thirties when Carl came back to town and took me to dinner one night when he was passing through on a business trip. He figured we could catch up on each other’s lives. He was already married, but never had any children.”

I noticed her twisting her fingers together as she spoke in an effort to maintain control.

“We went back to my place afterwards. Of course, like the old saying goes, one thing led to another, and you can figure out what the end result was. I became pregnant from that so-called one-night stand. I’m not ashamed about what we did, and I don’t regret it. It was right at that moment that I realized I still loved him.”

“What happened after that?”

“He went back home to his wife. What else could he do? Times were different back then.”