Our Lady Chaos, page 33
part #5 of Bloodletter Series
They were to meet at a steakhouse on the shores of one of the Finger Lakes, and it was one of the dressier establishments. Eddie wore his dark blue suit, and Amanda wore a stunning blue dress.
Despite arriving five minutes early, the maître d’ treated them to a fake smile and ushered Amanda and Eddie back into the dining room. Eddie’s mouth dropped open when he saw John and Izzy Morton seated at the table along with the Hawthornes.
“Surprise!” said Al Hawthorne with a broad grin.
“What’s all this?” asked Amanda, though she wore a mischievous grin.
“I guess you are in on this?” Eddie asked her.
Amanda just grinned and took her seat next to her mother.
“Of course, you were.” Eddie sank into the seat next to his wife.
“It’s time to celebrate!” said Izzy.
“Celebrate?”
The maître d’ brought Roger Stein to the table, and he was all smiles. He glanced at Al and asked, “Have you told him yet?”
“No. We were waiting for you.”
Roger chuckled. “My mother always said I’d be late for my own funeral.”
Al snorted, then waved at Eddie. “Why don’t you do the honors?”
Roger leaned back in his chair and widened his smile. “Today, I had an appointment down in Kanowa County. An appointment at the county courthouse, Judge Robert R. Abernathy presiding.”
“It was today?” Eddie mumbled.
Roger gave a slow nod. “It was today.” He shook his head but kept his smile. “I knew your uncle was a piece of work, but there’s nothing as telling as meeting the man in person to underscore what a louse he is.”
“You can say that again,” said Izzy, and both she and John leaned toward the table.
“As soon Judge Abernathy as took the bench, your uncle started in on him—claiming the judge had a bias, demanding that Abernathy recuse himself, accusing the judge of colluding with our firm, with Al…you name it. Judge Abernathy was less than impressed, but by looking at your uncle, you’d have thought he’d won arguments in front of the Supreme Court.”
“The man is…delusional about his own intelligence,” said John Morton. “I’m surprised, though, that he would say all that in Judge Abernathy’s courtroom after Abernathy dressed him down and dismissed his lawsuit against me.” John smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Said it was frivolous.”
“Ah! I’d wondered what all that was about. When he responded to Mr. Ratherson, he used the word frivolous about thirteen times. Your uncle looked as though he’d have a stroke.”
“If only,” muttered Eddie. Under the table, Amanda put her hand on his leg and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“Abernathy asked me to present my case, which I did. It took all of five minutes and a copy of the trust agreement. Abernathy asked your uncle’s lawyer if they had any defense, and right off the bat, Ratherson spews one vile conspiracy theory after another. Everything from Abernathy being drinking buddies with the chief here, to Al playing golf with Abernathy every weekend.” Roger spread his hands on the tablecloth in front of him and lost his smile. “It would be funny if I didn’t think the man believed every bit of it.”
“Yes, Gil Ratherson has a…unique view of things,” said John.
“Well, the outburst cost him.”
“Contempt?” asked Al.
“You bet. If he would’ve left it alone, Ratherson would’ve gotten off paying a fifty-dollar fine…”
“But he couldn’t leave it alone,” said Eddie, in a cold, flat tone. Amanda squeezed his thigh again and grinned at him.
“Of course he couldn’t,” said Izzy. “The man has no sense.”
“He isn’t the sharpest tack in the bunch,” said Roger. “He actually said to the judge, ‘I don’t care if you charge me five times that much, it wouldn’t show the amount of contempt I have for you.’ Of course, Judge Abernathy raised the fine to two hundred and fifty dollars without batting an eye.”
“Naturally,” said Al.
“Would you believe me if I said Ratherson didn’t leave it at that?”
John Morton chuckled. “I’d find it harder to credit if you said he did.”
Roger nodded. “I guess you know the man better than I do.”
“How much?” asked Eddie.
“Another citation. Another two hundred and fifty dollars.” Roger shook his head. “Ratherson’s attorney seemed dumbfounded. I don’t believe he understood what he was getting himself into.”
“John McCarthy?” asked John.
“Yes.”
John nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “He knew. He’s known Ratherson for years. Represented him God knows how many times in frivolous lawsuits in the years since he got out of prison. Suits against his neighbors, the owner of the feed and tack, you name it.”
“Ah. Well, the judge asked McCarthy if the Rathersons had any plan for a legal defense. He even stressed the word legal. McCarthy seemed a little flummoxed for a moment but then admitted that their defense had no basis in the law.”
“No defense at all?” asked Al.
“They claimed several things that went beyond the conspiracy theory nonsense Ratherson started with. They claimed that they’d spent all the money on expenses, but they couldn’t produce a single receipt to back anything up. They claimed that I shouldn’t be representing Eddie because of our relations, and—”
“Related?”
“Yes. I explained that I worked for your father-in-law, but your father-in-law recused himself in this case, and that was the end of it.”
Eddie shook his head.
“Next, they tried to claim that the trust agreement wasn’t legal. Abernathy interrupted him in the middle of his spiel with a single word, ‘frivolous.’ I thought your uncle would explode right there, but your aunt kept him under control.” Roger took a sip of water and then winked at Eddie. “Five minutes later, it was all over. Abernathy had already read the trust agreement, and since the Rathersons couldn’t even drum up a defense in any way related to case law, he rolled in our favor.”
“So, it’s finished?” asked Amanda as she took Eddie’s hand.
“I’m sure there will be more shenanigans coming,” said Roger with a slight frown. “But we now have a legal judgment that orders a surcharge in the amount of one hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars. The Rathersons have thirty days to pay in full, or Abernathy has instructed the Kanowa County Sheriff’s Department to seize their property and hold an auction.”
“I didn’t…” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want them to lose their farm.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Eddie, “said Izzy.
“That’s right,” said Betsy Hawthorne. “The things Amanda told us they did… Anyway, that money belongs to you and always has. If they spent it…” She shrugged.
Eddie hung his head and stared at his hands, which were trying to strangle each other in his lap.
“Don’t, son,” said John softly.
An uncomfortable silence settled around them for a moment, and Eddie turned his head away. Across the room, a woman sat with her back to him. Her hair cascaded down her back in a crimson wave. It was the color Amanda’s had been the day he’d met her, and that memory brought a smile to his face.
But the woman’s posture drew his attention. She sat in a funny way, an unnatural way—almost as though she weren’t human. The longer he looked at her, the more uneasy he grew.
“Eddie,” said Amanda. “This resolution a good thing, and I won’t let you feel guilty. I strictly forbid it.” She grabbed one of his wrestling hands and held it still. “Do you hear me?”
Eddie’s gaze stuck to the back of the red-haired woman’s head. She hadn’t moved, not to shift position, not to smooth the hair out of her face—he wasn’t even sure if she had breathed.
“Eddie, look at me,” said Al.
He continued to stare at the woman until Amanda squeezed his hand. Then with a little shake of his head, he turned toward Al.
“It’s natural, what you’re feeling. Even more so in a case where both litigants are family. But, and I want you to listen close now, that man doesn’t deserve a second of your pity. Trust me, I’m a lawyer, and I know these things.”
Betsy Hawthorne rolled her eyes, and Izzy laughed. Just like that, the tension broke, and Eddie smiled.
8
1991
The grimy shop window let in a modicum of weak fall afternoon light. The blubs lighting the shop’s interior flickered as if in the middle of a brownout, but the light in that shop never rose above dim. The shop owner had rigged the lights to emit soft, watery light so that customers could not see any scratches, dings, or dents on his merchandise.
“Mr. Mitchell! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Where have you been?” asked the shop owner.
“Well, my wife…you know how it is.” Eddie lifted an empty hand and let it drop.
The shop’s owner treated him to a knowing smile, nodding in sympathy. “Short leash?”
“You better believe it,” Eddie said with a chuckle. “I’m just a browser today. Not a buyer.”
“Looking is always free. And besides, you’ve been such a good customer over the years, who could begrudge you a day of window-shopping?”
They were all the same, the junk shop owners. They always made it seem as though they were doing Eddie a big favor to even let him in the store, even though he’d poured money into their hands.
Eddie smirked, his eyes straying past the shelves to the little living room scene set up in the back corner of the shop. Staged as a display for antiques, he eyed the grungy stuff with disdain.
But then his gaze drifted to the Tiffany lamp on the end table. It was a new addition to the shop, and yet it seemed familiar. He didn’t remember ever having seen a lamp similar to it, but there was something about the aquamarine lampshade with dragonflies bordering the bottom…
He shivered and turned away.
“Catch a chill?” asked the shopkeeper.
Eddie shook his head and rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “No, just déjà vu, I guess. That Tiffany lamp seemed so familiar.”
The shopkeeper cocked an eyebrow at him. “Déjà vu? Well, the lamp is new to the shop, but you have been here about sixty-eight million times. Doesn’t everything here seem familiar by now?” He chuckled.
Eddie tilted his head to the side and grinned, but he didn’t join in on the laughing. His gaze had crawled back to the lamp like a beaten dog to its master.
It had an ornate brass base, and above that, stained glass in the colors turquoise, aquamarine, and greens made up the body. He shook his head. Why should that seem so familiar? Where have I seen a lamp matching that one before?
And why am I scared all of a sudden?
“I know you said you’re only looking today, but I can make you a deal on that lamp. Today only, mind, but I could let you have that for…let’s say three-fifty.”
“Just looking.” The answer came to Eddie’s lips without effort, as though someone had programmed the words into his tongue. “That’s such a nice shade. Whoever made that was a real artist.” His gaze stroked the lampshade with relish, like a lover’s caress. The dragonflies’ wings made up the bottom edge of the shade. With bright-red bodies and white wings, the dragonflies seemed to call to him, to demand he remember them. Eddie shook his head. “It seems so familiar.”
The shopkeeper fastened an empty gaze on the lamp. “All Tiffanys seem familiar to me. My mother had several as I was growing up.”
That’s it! My mother’s lamp! The one Daddy brought home before they started to fight all the time. Before Daddy— Eddie cut that thought off in midstream. “Yeah, my mom had one, too. Except my mom’s was…” Eddie scratched his head. “I think my mother’s wasn’t as cheery as that. Dark colors—midnight blue and purple—predominated.”
The shopkeeper wagged his head as if he couldn’t care less. “Take a look at it. It’s a beauty, and as I said, I’m willing to deal today.” He turned and walked back to the small rolltop desk that served as the shop’s counter. He stepped behind it, and when Eddie glanced his way, he pasted a smile on his face to cover a look of avarice. The shopkeeper waved toward the small living room setup. “Make yourself comfortable. Take your time.”
Eddie repressed a sneer. Guys like the owner always pretended to be friendly but seemed to look down on him. You’d think with as much money as I spend in shops such as this, they’d treat me like royalty.
He strolled through the shop, taking his time, walking up and down each aisle, examining anything that caught his eye. It was a game he liked to play, prolonging the anticipation, putting off looking at the thing he really wanted until he could hardly stand not to.
The shop’s inventory put the “junk” in “junk shop,” one step above dumpster-diving, but a tiny step. A layer of grime coated almost everything. The shop owner’s clothes were not in great shape, and to Eddie’s practiced eye, he looked like a slovenly man—which his merchandise reflected.
Hell, I’ve got better stuff than most of this junk. Eddie had a lot of things—too much stuff if you asked Amanda—but he never settled for cast-off trash. He never bought something just to buy it. It had to be a real treasure to make the cut.
He made his way to the back corner and eyed the dirty couch with suspicion. He wanted to sit down, to take his time and admire the lamp, but sitting on that disgusting couch seemed like an invitation to get fleas or worse.
The lamp had brass pulls, one on each side, to control the bulb. Eddie reached out and pulled one of the chains. The lamp made a clicking noise but didn’t light. Eddie peeked over his shoulder, sure he’d see the shop owner hovering, but to his surprise, the shop owner wasn’t even looking at him.
“Hey, does this lamp work?”
The shopkeeper pointed behind the couch. “It’s not plugged in.” He stepped out from behind the rolltop desk and took two strides toward Eddie, and then the light flickered on. “Oh. Maybe I plugged it in, after all. Maybe the bulb needs replacing.” He turned and went back to his work.
Eddie turned his gaze back to the lamp and sucked in a breath. It was beautiful, throwing soft aquamarine light on the wall behind it. The dragonflies; red bodies and white wings stood out from the rest of the shade, but in a pleasurable way that drew the eye.
He caught himself smiling. Looking, not buying, he reminded himself. She would kill me. The money from the judgment had gone to pay off the house, and while he was in graduate school, Amanda had taken a low-paying job near campus. We can’t afford this.
His eyes danced across the lampshade, and he felt like a little kid again. He reached out to touch the shade but jerked it back before his fingertips brushed the edge. I shouldn’t touch it. It was a silly thought, but it roared through him with the force of one of God’s commandments, and he jerked his hand away.
He extended his hand, and this time he allowed his fingertips to brush the bottom edge of the shade, delighting in the tactile difference between the smooth glass and the lead edging, between the heat of the lightbulb behind the glass and the coolness of the lead.
Someone came up to stand next to him, but he didn’t look, thinking it was just the shop owner. “Just looking today, as I said.”
“That’s a shame. That lamp should go to someone who would appreciate it.”
Eddie startled at the contralto voice and twisted to gape at the woman standing next to him. She was the spitting image of his mother—not as his mother would look if his father had not murdered her, but as she had looked when Eddie was a child, even down to the cut of her dress and feathered hairstyle.
She looked at him and grinned. “Close your mouth, you’re drawing flies.”
Eddie snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just that…”
“I remind you of someone.”
It wasn’t a question, but Eddie found himself nodding in answer, regardless.
The woman cocked her head, her eyes roving over his features. “Someone special.”
Eddie swallowed hard, his heart beating fast. “Yeah. Yes. My mother.”
The woman laughed. “That’s not exactly what a woman hopes to hear a man say.”
Eddie blushed and lifted his shoulders and let them fall. “She’s… My mother passed when I was a child. But…and I mean no offense, but your dress, your hair…that’s how she looked back then.”
The woman tipped back her head and laughed even louder. “Me, too,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“I’m Eddie.” He held out his hand.
The woman put her small, dry hand in his. “Call me Kathleen.” She shrugged. “Kathy.”
It felt as if someone had punched Eddie hard in the stomach. He had no air, but choked out, “You’re kidding?”
The woman’s smile faded, and she shook her head. “That is my name. Are you sick? Here, sit on the couch, tiger.”
Eddie’s eyes darted to the couch, and he shook his head. “I’ll be okay in a minute.” He took a deep breath. “Kathy was my mom’s name.”
“Getting your arguments ready?” asked the shopkeeper.
Eddie started and tore his eyes away from the woman next to him. The shopkeeper stood a few steps behind and to his left, a sly grin stretching across his face. Eddie looked at Kathy, but she only grinned. “What?”
“For your wife. Are you getting your arguments ready?”
“Arguments?”
The shopkeeper chuckled. “Any man who comes into my shop and stands around talking to himself while he stares at an item is buying that item. I’ve learned that much after eighteen years in the business.”
Eddie lifted his eyebrows at Kathleen and then turned to the shopkeeper. He jerked his thumb in the woman’s direction. “I’m not talking to myself.”
The shopkeeper’s smile faltered. “Well…are you talking to me?” He glanced over his shoulder at his workstation across the shop. “Because if you were…”
“No, no, no. I was—” Eddie tilted his head at Kathy, and she held a finger up across her lips. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and she shook her head. He snapped his mouth shut.
