Death on a Silver Platter (17 page)

23

Since his mother’s sudden death, Danny had spent a great deal of time wandering through the house alone, sitting in various chairs, opening books he was unable to read. If anyone had cared to observe him, they wouldn’t have been able to tell he was crying, except that his shoulders were shaking. In his mind’s eye he saw his distant past—a boy, thin-chested and bright-faced, blond buzz cut because that’s what his mother liked, gentle to a fault. How that boy had evolved into the middle-aged man he saw in the mirror now was a mystery, one he didn’t want to concentrate on too carefully.

Danny realized that, without his mother around, without the kind of commotion caring for an old woman created, the rooms of the old house seemed profoundly still. Within that stillness he could hear his life echoing. His mother’s death had made him sentimental. He hated sentimentality.

In Manhattan, Danny’s world was rarely quiet. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of novels he would have written if he’d stayed in Minnesota, married a good Lutheran girl and remained close to the old homestead. Would he have written at all? Or would he have moved in some different direction? Maybe he would have become a petty politician. Perhaps he would have spent his days sleepwalking through the boredom of an office job. New York had kept Danny’s senses on edge. For that, he was grateful.

Standing now in the living room, looking up at the geometry of light his father had created with towering, cathedral-like windows, he felt a wave of grief so strong that he had to tense all his muscles just to keep upright. Whether the grief was for his mother or for himself, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that his life would have been altered beyond recognition if he hadn’t met and married Ruth.

People often asked Danny what he wrote about. His stock answer was that he explored the necessity of the uneasy compromise. If pushed further, he would explain that he was fascinated by the decisions human beings made that were born out of the struggle between ideals and practicality. He was rarely pressed for a more lengthy response.

As twilight settled on the prairie, Danny walked out on the front porch to get some air. He found Doc Holland sitting in one of the wicker chairs, staring at a smear of orange just above the horizon. It was a picture perfect evening.

“Have you had dinner?” asked Danny.

Doc shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“I’m sure Zander would make us a sandwich.”

Nodding to a chair, Doc said, “Zander’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“Canterbury Downs. He likes the ponies, in case you didn’t know.”

“Since when?” asked Danny.

“Since they built the racetrack. He tried to keep it quiet so your mother wouldn’t find out, but that’s where he spends his free time. With the money Millie left him burning a hole in his pocket, I figure he couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

“Well then, maybe I should fix us some dinner.”

“Just sit. Keep me company.”

Danny didn’t exactly have anything pressing, so he relaxed into a chair and propped his feet up on the wood railing. The police had made it clear he wasn’t to leave town. Spending a few days at the house fit his current mood, so he didn’t resist, but if his enforced stay went on too much longer, he’d be on the horn to his lawyer in Manhattan.

In the past few days, Danny had fallen into a kind of routine, calling Ruth every evening at ten. They’d talk for an hour or so. Her first question was always about the police investigation—had they discovered anything new. So far his answer was always the same. They hadn’t. One of these nights maybe he’d have news of a breakthrough in the case. His mother’s will had been officially read this morning, so he’d have that information to give her tonight. Not that anything was a surprise, with one exception. His mother had rewarded Zander’s nearly thirty years of service with a cool million.

“Nice evening,” said Doc, brushing a fly away from his face. A newspaper rested in his lap, a pair of half glasses on his nose. In the evening light, his face looked lacy with freckles.

Doc had a certain gentleness about him that always put people at ease. Danny liked him. He knew that Doc had tried hard to be a father figure after Danny’s dad had died, but nobody took him seriously. Alex was too old to want another man telling him what to do. Elaine adored Doc, but she made it clear that nobody could replace her father. And Danny, well, he tried to be kind and accept the old guy’s overtures, lame as they were. At thirteen, Danny hardly found it a highlight of his week to be taken into Maple Lake for an ice cream cone.

“I’ve been sitting out here all afternoon,” said Doc, folding one leg over the other. “I just don’t know what to do with myself now that your mother’s gone.” He looked away. Gazing up at the sky, he added, “I loved her, you know. It wasn’t just friendship on my part.”

“I always thought the two of you would get married after my dad died.”

“No, that was never in the cards.” He shifted in his chair. “I knew your mother before she married your dad. Did you know that?”

Danny shook his head.

“She was working as a secretary at the university when I was a medical student. Your mother was the strongest, smartest girl I ever met. She had such confidence, such ambition. A couple months before she met your dad, I asked her to marry me. But she turned me down.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He shrugged. “I made peace with that a long time ago. Millie knew she’d never want for anything if she married me, but it wasn’t enough. My ambition didn’t stretch as far as hers. I was content to be a family practitioner. It was a fine living, but nothing grand. When she met your dad, she had stars in her eyes. She knew immediately that he was a guy who was going places. Like they used to say, she wanted to hitch her wagon to a star, and that’s exactly what she did.”

“But you stayed friends.” Danny recalled how many times in the last thirty years his mother had called Doc “hopelessly needy.” Not a very flattering assessment coming from such a dear old friend.

“Yeah, through thick and thin we always stuck together. Actually, it was probably for the best that I never settled down with any one person. I mean, I enjoyed playing the field. I certainly never wanted for female companionship, though trust me, it’s harder to find these days.” He winked at Danny. “I always liked my girls frisky. Still do, except they run too fast now and I have a hard time catching them.” He laughed, then sighed. “But I miss your mom something fierce. We were well past our romantic feelings, but I loved talking to her. We’d argue about anything and everything. She had strong opinions, but that was all right with me. She valued ideas. Not many people do.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

Doc glanced over at him.

Danny figured he was in for a lecture. Doc had a tendency to grow didactic when he thought someone had judged Millie too harshly.

“The truth is, son, I’m not as sharp as I used to be. Things get past me now that never would have in my younger years. I’m . . . forgetful. Sometimes I’m even a little confused. I’m still as strong as an ox, knock on wood, but I get lost in the past. You probably don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”

“Actually,” said Danny, “I do.”

“There are times when I don’t just get
lost
in the past, I feel like I get
stuck
there. It’s frightening because . . . what if I can’t get back? That’s one reason I stayed on here at the house. Going home, being alone, scares the bejeebers out of me.”

“You can stay here as long as you like,” said Danny.

“Thanks. But I can’t. Not really. I’ll have to make some hard decisions soon.” Folding his hands in his lap, he asked, “Have you had any word from Tracy?”

Danny shook his head. “Nothing. I hope she turns up soon. Say, Doc, speaking of Tracy. When I caught up with her the other day at that hotel in Maple Lake, she said she saw your car the night she took off. Must have been around one in the morning.”

“Really,” said Doc, scratching his shoulder.

“Was it you?”

“Yes, it was me.”

“How come you came back here? I saw you leave around ten.”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a drive. I do that sometimes. Being in the country always calms me down. Seems that when my brain switches off, I always end up here.”

“It’s happened before?”

“Once or twice.”

“You just turned around and went home?”

“Yup, that’s about it.” He looked over at Danny. “How come you didn’t tell the police Tracy saw my car that night?”

“I didn’t want to get you in trouble. I know you didn’t murder my mother.”

“I suppose I should thank you for that vote of confidence.”

“No thanks necessary.”

Doc returned his gaze to the sunset. “What’s going to happen to this house now that your mother’s gone?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose Alex or Elaine will move in. Or maybe they’ll sell it. We own it jointly now.”

“What about you and your wife?”

“Our home is in New York.”

“How about Zander? What are his plans?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny, noticing a pair of headlights on the service road heading their way. “I doubt he’ll want to stick around here much longer.”

As the car came closer Danny could see that it was Alex’s Mercedes. After swinging in behind Danny’s rental, he got out.

Doc waved. “Come on up and have a seat,” he called amiably.

Alex trotted up the steps. “Evening.”

“Heard anything more about that sniper in the grove?” asked Doc.

“Actually, yes,” said Alex, loosening his tie. “They found the rifle the guy used. It was pushed under a part of the wood lattice on the south side of the house. It belonged to my dad, but whoever used it wiped it clean of fingerprints.”

“Tough break,” said Doc.

“Yeah.”

Danny assumed he was just getting home from a day at the office.

“I need a drink,” said Alex. Without further comment, he headed into the house.

Danny could tell by the look on his brother’s face that something was wrong. “I better go talk to him,” he said, getting up.

“You kids need to stick together,” said Doc. “That’s what your mother would have wanted.”

Danny found Alex in the rec room in the basement, standing behind the bar. He’d taken off his suit coat and tossed it over a chair. A bottle of wine had been placed on the counter, but he appeared to have thought better of it and pushed it aside. An open bottle of bourbon and an empty shot glass sat directly in front of him.

Danny sat down on one of the bar stools.

“Want one?” asked Alex. He nodded to the bourbon.

“Sure, why not.”

Alex looked as if he’d aged ten years in the last few days.

“Are you okay?” asked Danny.

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Alex poured them each a stiff shot. “Down the hatch,” he said, lifting his glass to his lips, then tossing it back.

Danny sipped his. “What’s up?”

“Roman.”

“Oh.” Danny had guessed a long time ago, as far back as high school, that Alex was gay, though Alex wasn’t honest with him about it until several years after he’d graduated from college. He figured that others suspected, but that’s all it was. Speculation.

It was the night before Alex’s wedding. He’d gotten royally plastered on Russian vodka and ended up sleeping on the couch in Danny’s hotel room. Before he sank into his alcohol-induced oblivion, he’d told Danny the truth. Danny could have cared less, which Alex knew. That was why he trusted him with such a sensitive piece of information.

The next morning Danny encouraged Alex to fess up, ditch his fiancée, and go sell shoes or work at Kmart. Live an honest life. But Alex couldn’t give up his dream. He felt it was his birthright to head his father’s company, to take it to the next level, whatever that meant. Danny hoped that Alex would tell Elaine. She was in engineering school at the time. But Alex said no, there was too much competition between them. There always had been. He loved her, but he didn’t trust her.

That made Danny sad. Of course, the person who would have blown a gasket if she’d found out was their mother. The fewer people who knew the truth, said Alex, the better. Danny respected his wishes. But keeping up the charade now—what was the point?

“Look, Alex, you probably don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” He downed another shot.

“Why don’t you dump Marchand? Elaine thinks the guy’s bad news and I’m inclined to agree.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Sometimes the truth is hard to hear, but it doesn’t make hearing it any less necessary.”

Leaning across the bar, Alex grabbed Danny by his shirt and said, “You keep this up, pal, and I might have to wipe the floor up with you.”

“Oh, that’s just great. Macho shit coming from my gay brother.”

“Gays are macho,” said Alex indignantly. “At least, some of us are.”

They both started to laugh at the same time.

Alex let go of Danny’s shirt and poured himself another drink.

“Okay, so maybe Marchand isn’t such a bad fellow,” continued Danny. “Maybe he does love you, but he loves your money, too. Can you ever trust a guy like that? And think about this. If he was never honest with his wife about his extracurricular activities, what makes you think he’s honest with you?”

“He loves me, Danny. That’s not the issue. But he’s been so depressed, ever since Mom announced she wanted to sell the company. Honestly, I feel like, if I go through with it, it will kill him. I don’t know what to do. No matter what decision I make, I feel like a traitor.”

“But I figured you would lobby to take the company public now that Mom’s not around to stop you.”

He shook his head. “I changed my mind.”

“Oh, right. I remember now. You had that heart-to-heart with her before she died. Did she convince you that selling Veelund Industries was the right thing to do?”

Stiffening his shoulders, Alex said, “I need to do what she asked. It was her last request and I take it seriously.”

What a load of crap, thought Danny. There had to be another reason. “Does Elaine know about your change of mind?”