Wynn in the Willows (24 page)

“Which are?”

“Skin turns orange. Loss of hair. Bone pain. Slurred speech. Vomiting. Death.” Wynn's voice trailed off.

“How horrible!” Jackie covered her eyes. “But isn't retinol in the eye? How could it be in all his tissues?”

“No, that's retina. Retinol is a form of Vitamin A. And he had a toxic level in his system. Was he taking a lot of vitamins?

“Yes, he believed in them, but certainly never overdosed on them.” Jackie answered. “Boone is a precise type of person. I mean, he was.”

Everyone paused in a moment of respect for her reignited grief.

“I think it would be nearly impossible to take this much vitamin A on one's own. I wonder how that much got into his system?” Wynn couldn't come up with the answer.

“Maybe someone tampered with his vitamins.” Roxie pulled at the hem of her skirt.

“It says right here that cause of death is Hypervitaminosis A.”

“And now I know.” Jackie sighed.

“Now we all know,” Wynn said.

“I didn't identify Boone's body the first time, and the second time he was identified by tissue samples and dental records. His body was so decomposed that I wasn't allowed to see him until he was ‘fixed up'. The first time I received a call from Mr. Hanover with the news that Boone had been struck by a truck in Egg Harbor and was pronounced dead at the scene. He asked if I wanted him to make arrangements for him to be embalmed there and they would have him brought over by special boat. I agreed. It seemed like the right thing to do. Then he was cremated instead, but I never asked for that. But that wasn't Boone's ashes, it was someone else's.”

“Let's add Mr. Hanover to the suspect list.” Roxie instructed Wynn. She agreed and wrote down his name.

“There's something else very interesting in the coroner's report.” Wynn turned the page. “It says minute pieces of antique colored paper were found under Boones fingernails. That is so strange.”

“Why would that be there?” Jackie wondered.

“On TV I've seen where DNA of the attacker's skin can be found under the victims nails,” Owl offered. “Evidence under fingernails is very common.”

“I just don't see why this paper would be under Boone's fingernails.” Jackie looked stressed.

“I keep thinking about the woman who was described by not one, but two witnesses, as kneeling beside the homeless man—possibly rendering aid or robbing him. Wasn't Marilyn a nurse once?” Faith picked up the dessert plates to take to the kitchen.

“I was.” Marilyn walked in, followed by Agatha.

The room quieted.

Roxie sprang up and pulled up two dining room chairs for them to sit.

“We were just…”

“I know. It's the task force. Agatha told me about it. That's why I've come.” Marilyn looked drained as she leaned over the coffee table and in the center, placed the ruby ring encrusted with emerald jewels. “I had it all along.”

Wynn breathed a sigh of relief that Doug hadn't taken it, after all. But she still wondered if anyone connected the missing ring to Boone's death. For now, she would remain silent about her supposition.

“Why didn't you tell anyone?” Jackie snapped.

“It's no one's business but my own. This ring belongs to me.” She turned to Jackie. “Not to Boone, certainly not to you.”

“But Boone said…”

“I don't care what Boone said. The truth is the truth. It would only belong to Boone after my death. However, I don't want it anymore. It's brought nothing but distress and death.” Marilyn starred at the ring.

“Jackie, I guess the ring is yours, then,” Roxie said.

“I don't want the ring, either.” Jackie shuddered, crossing her arms.

“Then I will put it in my wall safe. You both might very well be fighting over it in another month.” Roxie slipped the ring onto her finger and admired it. “Marilyn, tell us about that day; the last time you saw Boone.”

“Boone did go to your place first, before taking the ferry, didn't he?” Wynn asked.

Marilyn nodded. “I lied to Wynn and Roxie.”

“You mean you lied to the police and everyone else, too.” Jackie spat.

“That's right, Jackie. I did see Boone when he returned from Nepal. Just as always, he came to say hello to me first, and bring me a few presents from overseas. A cashmere, hand embroidered shawl, some gold pieces of jewelry are what he gave to me. Everything seemed almost normal, like all the other times, except this time he seemed distraught. He said his business was bankrupt. It was about to be seized by the IRS. He would lose everything. Boone asked for the inheritance from his father. That ring.”

Wynn was mesmerized. “Go on.”

“I told him he couldn't have it. That it was my ring. Not his inheritance; not yet. We argued. He said he always supported me and Agatha and would continue to do so, but needed the ring to pay off debts or we would all be living off welfare.”

“Where is Boone's luggage?” Jackie asked Marilyn. “I want it just as he left it. Nothing removed.”

“It's at your house. I left it there before coming here today. Boone changed out of his suit when he arrived, into casual clothes. But everything else is there, just as he left it.”

Wynn cleared her throat. “One of the witnesses thought perhaps you were a nurse giving aid. Someone else said they saw you take his wallet. Still, another witness said you put something on him.”

“This is so hard.” Marilyn took a deep breath. “Boone's suits are always filthy when he returns from his trips. I took it to the cleaners. When I got there, the clerk went through the pockets and found his wallet with his identification. I slipped it into my purse to return it to him.”

“And when the homeless man was hit, you saw your chance to trade identities.”

“Not at first. Not at first.” Marilyn swallowed hard. “I knelt beside the man to check for his pulse. There wasn't any. I reached into his pocket to find an ID. There wasn't any. That's when I thought about Boone's wallet with all of his information. It was a spur of the moment decision. If Boone was pronounced dead, we could collect on his life insurance.”

“But Boone wouldn't go along with that,” Roxie said.

“That's right. But at that moment on the street, the idea seemed to be the solution to all of our problems.”

“How did you propose to hide Boone?”

“No hiding. We'd move some place warm, overseas. But when I returned and told Boone my plan, he was livid. We argued. He left in a rage, leaving his suitcase behind. I thought he was going to the police to get things straightened out concerning the accident. But I swear, I don't know what happened after that.”

“We believe you.” Jackie crossed the room and hugged her trembling mother-in-law.

“I called the coroner's office about the homeless man. I assumed Boone would be also headed that way to get his wallet back. But when I called, I found out that Boone hadn't come for his wallet, after all. The coroner asked me to come to identify Boone's body. So I did. I asked that he be cremated. Here is Boone's wallet, Jackie.”

 

 

 

 

29

 

Wynn placed her samples between glass before covering them in layers of bubble wrap, and then double boxing them. Her notes and papers went into a separate container. By the time she was finished loading everything, the entire backseat of the car was filled with her completed grant. She took a deep breath and thanked God for seeing her through it. Before she headed to the post office, she decided to deadbolt the Tree House for the first time.

Too many mysteries seemed to be swirling around the island and she didn't want a nasty surprise to greet her behind a closed, unlocked door when she returned. Now that she had a kitten, she needed to keep him safe, as well as all of the expensive scientific equipment.

Roxie might like to go for a swim in the cove with her once the packages were mailed. Lately, she felt connected to her aunt in new ways. Whatever the truth was about her family, she would forgive. Spending time with the Bible study ladies and in prayer had taught her many things, but the most valuable lesson was mercy. Most of her life had been spent being critical of her mother and aunt. Just recently, she realized she needed to offer forgiveness.

At the turn of the drive she noticed the Bible study ladies' cars. Not wanting to intrude, she headed back towards her own car, feeling wounded. No one had mentioned any meeting today; either Bible study or task force.

All the way into town and even standing in line at the post office, she tried to divert her thoughts from the meeting, and towards her future. By fall she'd leave the island, whether Doug had been exonerated or not, whether the mystery of her dad's death was solved, or not. Perhaps there are things that should be placed into the hands of God. Isn't that what Roxie was always trying to teach her? Wynn twitched a smile in thought.

Dare she stay here and risk disappointment? But wasn't that what living was all about? Hurt and joy? Disappointment and gratification? Her heart kept arguing with her mind.

In truth, she wanted to remain here; get to know Doug better. She desired to live among the vegetation and wildlife, be a part of those lovely Bible study women, and most of all, regard Roxie as a mother she never had.

She managed to find her way into a community of women who were smart, independent, supportive, and enjoyed one another's company without ever competing against each other. They were the oasis she had needed all her life.

Wynn stopped for an ice cream cone and decided to head to the cove alone to enjoy the sun and the waves—right along with the rest of the day. Nearly there, the car suddenly listed to the side. She slowed. Wynn pulled over, and hopped out to examine the car. There it was—a very flat, right rear tire.

Wynn pulled out her cell, but there weren't bars. She popped the trunk and looked in. OK, she could do this. She hadn't changed a tired since high school. She found rocks to stick under the rear tires to keep the car from rolling, and then set out the reflective warning. She pulled up the flap trunk's covering and unscrewed the wing nut releasing the tire. Wynn returned to the trunk to get the jack and the lug nut wrench.

A brown paper sack fluttered in the wheel well. Wynn opened it expecting to find tire changing instructions.

The temperature around her filled with humidity. The world seemed to stand still, nothing moved; not a fly, not a leaf, not a rabbit's tail—certainly not a cloud—for a split second there was only silence ringing loudly in her ears.

The heartbreak that had hidden for a lifetime suddenly revealed itself as the horrifying truth. It made her stand frozen in time—all due to the blue and white model speed boat she held in her hand. A light switch came on in the dark room of repressed memory and now she could see clearly as if the frames of a movie sped by.

 

****

 

It had taken them months to paint, put together, seal, and attach the water proof electrical motor. Wynn turned it over in her hand and flipped the switch. A weak roar began that gradually became louder and louder. She ran the fingers of her right hand through her hair because she had a death grasp on the boat with the other hand.

Six-year-old Wynn drank orange juice. They were in the kitchen, an airy, art filled room lit by the morning sun which filtered through glass doors opening onto a tiny porch.

Dad was staring at her with that marvelous smile that always made his lips seem crooked. The very same smile she had seen on her own lips in the pictures Roxie had hidden from her.

She looked down at her hand—no longer the hand of her adult self—but of her six-year-old self holding the boat. “Dad, please let's go to the lake today.”

“No,” her mother contradicted. “It's way too choppy. Your boat will be lost in the waves. You may have to wait until spring, now.”

Wynn furrowed her brow. “No. I want to go now.”

“How about if we try the tub, pumpkin?” Dad was eager to appease her.

“Can we please put it in the lake?” Wynn begged again. “I want to see it go fast!”

After a moment of hesitation, he capitulated. “I guess it'd be OK, but just along the shore.” Dad went for their coats. “Come on, Ruth!”

“This is what spoils her, Steve, you always giving in to her—just like Roxie.”

The back door creaked open. “Did someone say my name?”

“Aunt Roxie you're here! Yay! Now you can come, too!” Wynn hopped on one foot, and then on the other.

“And just where are we going?”

“To put this in the lake!” Wynn held out the boat.

“Sounds like fun.”

“Not fun. Too cold.” Ruth adamantly shook her head.

A frown covered Roxie's face. “Your mom is right. It is cold out there.”

“Who's cold? I'm not cold,” Dad said.

“Who's cold? I'm not cold,” said Wynn.

“Who's cold? I'm not cold,” said Roxie.

“OK, OK. I see I am outnumbered.” Mom laughed, pulling on her jacket and bringing the hood down over her head. “But just the shallow end. Agreed?”

“Agreed!”

“Agreed!”

“Agreed!”

They walked through piles of blowing, colored leaves with Wynn in the lead. When they reached the shoreline, Dad let Wynn turn on the motor, and set the toy boat into the water. It gurgled at first, and then whizzed twenty feet along before getting hung up on old lake weed.

“I want to take it out there where other boats go.” Wynn pointed to the horizon.

“No.”

“Take my inboard.” Roxie held out the keys tethered to a cork bobber.

“Roxie, you aren't helping.” Ruth glared. “We are going home now, Wynn.”

“Wynn, your mother is right; this is as far as we go with this. Now you have to wait until spring.” Dad pulled the zipper up on his coat.