Death and Deceit

DEATH AND DECEIT

Carol Marlene Smith

Copyright 2011 by Carol Marlene Smith

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

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Author’s Note
:
This novel is written in Canadian/UK English
.

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PROLOGUE

Neither the softly falling snow, nor the jingle bells on the street-corner Santa’s wrists calmed the trepidation in Jessica Albright’s heart. Unfinished business from last August was still on the menu. Standing outside the bus behind a straggling group of other passengers, she carried her one piece of luggage and took baby steps so as not to bump anyone. When the crowd cleared away, she blew snowflakes off her turned-up nose, brushed back her flowing auburn hair and searched for a familiar face.

Looking down the town’s main street, Jessie acknowledged to herself that Wakefield hadn’t changed a speck since she’d left last summer. Of course the town was now covered like a snowy wonderland, but it probably would easily be recognized by any of her ancestors if they should pop up from their wintery graves.

Years earlier Wakefield had grown into a town because of a fast producing quarry that had been owned and operated by the Wakefield Gypsum Company. It didn’t run out but had been shut down, when the owner died and his son drove it into bankruptcy. But since those early days, when Wakefield was a bustling, promising town, things had changed drastically for the townspeople. Today, most made a living at the chocolate factory and the handful of craft shops in the downtown area. A fine sweep of beach also attracted the tourists.

“Jessie, over here.”

Jessica swivelled her head to the left and was greeted by her neighbour, Sandra Norton’s waving hand.
Sandra and Jessie’s mom, Emily, had been friends as long as Jessie could remember. It always amused her to see them together. Sandra, tall and gangly, with hands as big as bear paws, and her mom almost a foot shorter, slight and small boned, the complete opposites in looks yet the very best of friends.

Emily Albright rushed forward and grabbed her daughter in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said, then kissed Jessie on the cheek.

Jessie smelled that old familiar cigarette smoke. She thought her mom looked
too thin and pale, but she didn’t mention it.

Sandra looked down at them and said in her deep cigarette voice, “Let’s get to the car before we’re stuck here. How was the drive from the city?”

“A little slippery at times,” Jessie replied, “but the driver seemed to know how to handle the bus.”

“They’re experienced,” Sandra’s voice boomed, so loud a few people turned to look her way. Jessie showed a half embarrassed grin and continued on walking behind Sandra and her mother. Sandra had taken the luggage straight from her at the bus and carried it as if it weighed nothing.

After brushing off an inch of snow from the car’s windshield and rear window, they spun their way out of the parking lot and towards home. Both Sandra
and Jessie’s mom lit up cigarettes. Jessie sat in the back seat and tried not to breathe too
deeply. Finally she asked the question foremost in her mind. “Is Alan home?”

“He is,” her mother replied. “But he’s leaving before Christmas.”

“Why?”

“Says he’s moving into a new apartment, and he wants to get help from some of his friends before they go off somewhere for the Christmas holidays.”

“Why can’t he wait ‘til after Christmas?” Jessie asked.

“Impatient,” Sandra cut in. “You know your brother. Never could wait for nothin’.”

Jessie shrugged. She wasn’t sure she did know her brother.

Sandra slowly edged her car into the Albright’s driveway which was quickly plugging with snow. Jessie’s dad’s truck was half covered already. After thanking Sandra for the lift, the two Albright women stomped the snow off their boots and entered the house. Warm air from the kitchen hurried outside, replaced by a blast of December. Jessie’s father sat at the table spooning down noon-time soup. He stopped and hugged himself from the cold then broke into a wide smile when he saw Jessie.

“Hi, Dad. I’m home.” Jessie wrapped her arms around him without removing her coat, but he didn’t seem to mind. He reciprocated by kissing her forehead.

“How’s my girl?” he asked, continuing to smile.

“I’m fine, Dad. How about you?” She looked him over. His yellow-stained teeth, from too many years of smoking, looked too big in his now gaunt face, and she had
caught her breath earlier when she’d hugged him. She could feel his bones, and it almost felt like he wasn’t there anymore.

“Doing okay,” he said, his head bobbing up and down. Jessie had inherited her
dad’s red hair, but his was thin now, almost invisible. Scraps of reddish-grey hairs brushed across a pale scalp.

“He always says that,” Emily intervened, as she helped Jessie pull her coat off and then took both coats to the hall closet.

Jessie poured a cup of tea then sat beside her father. It troubled her to notice how much more weight he’d lost since she’d gone off to college in September. Her dad had always been robust and healthy. An athletic man, he loved the outdoors almost as much as he loved his family. While Jessie’s mother had coddled her first born, Alan, Jessie had not felt the least bit neglected. Her dad had been there for her from as long as she could remember. He’d taught her how to skate, and even play hockey, on the outdoor rink he made every winter in the backyard until she was fifteen. Her interest in boys then took over, and Jessie spent more time at the town arena with her friends. Alan, who was four years older, left for university, and Jessie’s mom and dad spent a lot of time alone together.

In her last year of high school Jessie got the shock of her life, when her mother sat her down one day after school and hit her with the truth. “Your dad has prostate cancer,” she told her in a wavering voice. It was just after Easter and Jessie recalled walking the snow-lined streets of Wakefield, her tears freezing on her face. A week after that, spring set in and so did the cancer. He continued his job as a bus driver for a few months, but by the first week of summer he was forced to retire.

The cancer now ravaged his body, but he was so brave and how she’d missed him. She reached for a cookie and heard footsteps clumping down the stairs. Her heart leaped, and she pulled her arm back from the cookie plate and sipped her tea instead.

“Hi, Alan,” she called out nervously.

Alan nodded but kept his head down. The same red hair that crowned Jessie’s head also hung over his forehead. He brushed it back and grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair.

Alan was tall and strikingly handsome even to his sister. His perfect nose, strong chin, and bedroom eyes had always attracted a bevy of female admirers, leaving Jessie to wonder why losing Marcy had hit him so hard. As far as she could figure, Marcy had never been such a great catch anyway.

“Alan,” Emily called from the hall doorway. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Alan called back as he slipped through the kitchen door. The door slammed shut and Emily turned to Jessie.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, a perplexed look clouding her face. She swiped her cigarette package from the kitchen counter and pounded out a smoke with her fingers.

“I think he’s still mad at me,” Jessie announced, frowning at the cigarette. She
caught herself from scolding her mother once again. Emily never listened anyway. Even
when her husband had been forced to quit smoking, Emily kept it up. Neither Jessie nor
Alan had taken up the habit, even though cigarettes had always been available while growing up.

Emily sat down and Jessie looked across at both her parents. Obviously Alan had never told them about the incident in August. “Alan arranged a blind date for me last summer, and when I didn’t show up, he got mad. But I thought he’d be over it by now.”

Jessie’s father patted her hand. “He holds grudges, Jessie. It’s wrong but that’s the way he is.”

“Just like you, Jack,” Emily pointed out. The smoke from her cigarette hovered
over the table.

“Just like I used to be,” he corrected. “Ever since the cancer, I’ve mellowed. Life’s too short for harbouring bad feelings.”

Emily smiled at him then turned her attention once more to Jessie. “That’s silly,” she said, “him being mad at you for that. Wait ‘til he comes in. I’ll straighten him out.”

****

The snow banks surrounding the Albright’s Cape Cod style house sparkled like rhinestones in the early morning sunshine. Alan threw large shovelfuls of snow away from the truck tires. The kitchen door opened a slit and his mother called to him, “Come in for breakfast, Alan.”

Inside, Alan rubbed his hands together and warmed them on the electric burner.

“Sit down, Alan,” Emily said. “Where were you last night?”

“I was at Bob’s house, why?”

“I want to hear about this feud between you and your sister.” She slipped two fried eggs from the pan and dropped them on Alan’s plate next to a slice of ham.

Alan reached for a piece of toast then sat down. “Remember Marcy, Mom?” he asked. Emily nodded and poured his coffee.

“Jessie broke us up. All she had to do was date a buddy of mine, but she backed out and made me look like a fool. He got mad. Then Marcy got mad at me and took up for him. They went off together and that was it. Marcy and I had dated for two years.”

“Doesn’t that tell you something, Alan? About Marcy?”

Alan glared at her. “It sure as hell told me something about Jessie.”

“Alan, stop swearing. You make up with your sister.”

Alan jumped up, knocking into the table and spilling his coffee. “I knew this wouldn’t work,” he yelled, grabbing his jacket.

Jessie was just heading down the stairs. Instead of leaving, Alan stomped into the hallway and started up the stairway. They faced each other. His face was red with anger, just like Jessie’s got many times, but not today. She was more stunned at his continuing rage than anything. If she had ever known it would turn into such a big fiasco, she would have gone on that damn blind date, and she told him so.

“You’re a bit too late, little sister,” he said sarcastically and continued up the stairs.

Jessie and her mother sat at the kitchen table and watched in unison as Alan dragged down his luggage and piled it by the kitchen door. Finally he turned to his mother. “Tell Dad I’ll bring the truck back next weekend. Tell him...” He looked across at Jessie. “Never mind. Have a
great
Christmas,” he said sarcastically.

“Alan, wait!” The door closed on his mother’s words and he was gone.

The roar of the truck’s engine coming alive brought Jessie out of her stupor and to her feet. “I can’t believe him,” she said crossing her arms and shaking her head.

Tears clouded Emily’s brown eyes. “And on your father’s last Christmas too.”

Jessie rushed towards her mother who stood up as they embraced. “Mom,” she soothed, “you don’t know that.”

She held tight to her mother’s trembling frame, digging her clinched fingers into the bony shoulders. She would have given anything at that moment to bring her brother
back to celebrate Christmas as a family again. And suddenly she wished with all her heart that she
had
gone out with Alan’s friend. Who would have thought that a stupid blind date could ruin a family Christmas
?

CHAPTER ONE

Spring 1996

He rose because he could not sleep, a nightly venture, nothing new. It was hard to sleep when memories invaded every dream. Either Julia was hiding somewhere or his mother was crying. He hated the looks of his mother. There was always something…a black eye, a bruised arm, a sore leg, a broken tooth. But she still found smiles for Julia and him. She seemed to have them tucked away behind the swollen cheek or the battered, swollen nose.

Because of those smiles he managed to go on, day by day. But Julia was sullen, defiant, and he trembled in the other cot across from her bed many nights, while their father entered the room and made her cry. He was glad that his father had neglected him.