Lethal Dose of Love Page 24

  “The cops have it. Anything you can’t find around here, they probably have.” Payton donned her raincoat, turned left out of the store and walked down the hill. Sergeant Espinoza was still at Sylvie’s. Rain had begun, first as a gentle mist as she passed Sylvie’s real estate office. It became heavier as she passed the Information office. Payton pulled up her hood and ducked her face to the wind that had picked up off the harbor. As she crossed the battlefield, rain pummeled the treetops above, rattling the new leaves and sending some to earth, fluttering and dipping like monarch butterflies in July.

  She stood on the stonewall, at the spot where MaryAnn ran aground. Directly below, etched into the man-made rock barrier, was a permanent reminder of the incident. Maybe someday the white paint would fade, but the disruption to the evenly stacked stones would remain. The water washed over Payton’s memory—Sean’s face, paralyzed from the effects of the poison, rose up, pushed on the waves. The vision was so real she couldn’t stop herself from flinching away. This time Payton didn’t try to stop the images. Maybe if they played themselves out, she’d be able to rid herself of the nightmares. That’s what her analyst had told her. “Face the trouble head on. Let the memory come, over and over so that your mind gets used to it. Become familiar with the images, like a coroner steels himself against death. That’s what you’ve got to do with Cameron. Let him come to you.”

  Unable to face the pain and horrific waste of a wonderful human being, Payton had been unable to do this. But she wasn’t emotionally involved with Sean. The images didn’t propel her into the same emotional state as Cameron’s. So she stood atop the wall with her eyes closed. And let it come: MaryAnn off course. Sean and Frank toppling into the water. Her stiff form poised on Zephyr’s starboard rail. As she leaped a swell pushed MaryAnn up. She missed the deck and went under. And didn’t come up. Not for a long time. When she did, the sight of her own bloated face made Payton gasp.

  Finally she turned and headed back up the hill, feeling rejuvenated and determined to find Sean and Franks’ murderer.

  Payton walked home, grateful not to see a police car waiting. It had stopped raining, but the clouds remained. She hung her raincoat in the closet, giving a pat of reassurance to Sean’s wallet inside the tan cashmere winter coat. Checking that neither Mamie nor any customer was in sight, she pulled up the crinkly cleaners’ bag, slipped out the wallet and took it to her office.

  The leather creaked as it unfolded. She took out his license and social security card and set them on the desk. The photo of MaryAnn was the square Polaroid type with wide white border and age-crackled face. It must have been taken soon after their wedding, maybe on their honeymoon; the background was some sort of carnival. In the picture MaryAnn was youthful, at ease, without the tense lines around her mouth or the extra pounds she wore today.

  The credit cards, Visa, Mastercard and Exxon gasoline, were in Sean’s name. None appeared too well used, no scratches on the laminated surfaces, not even a signature on the gas card. There were two twenties, three tens and two ones. Payton poked into the wallet’s nooks and crannies but found nothing besides a 1905 dime tucked under a flap.

  The social security card must have been the original; the heavy-weight paper was dirty and worn. He hadn’t bothered to laminate it. His assigned number was 210-72-2891. She leaned back in her chair. Something she’d read recently nagged at her. Something about social security numbers being issued in a particular order. Each state had a specific code. On the computer, she located a Website telling her that the first three of Sean’s social security numbers, 210, originated in the state of Pennsylvania, which brought a frown. She’d assumed he was born right here in Sackets Harbor, which would make the first numbers somewhere between 050 and 134.

  Things were certainly getting interesting.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Most of the gang already gathered under the white tent in the marina parking lot. But something was wrong; the voices were too loud, too forced. Payton nearly turned in her tracks and ran back up the hill. Conflict she didn’t need today, especially when it was delivered by none other than Felicia Featherstone. She stood out from them a bit. Wearing a red top and creased white capris, she pointed a red-lacquered fingernail at the group. “Don’t tell me you’re not all wondering what she’s doing here in Sackets Harbor—”

  “Felicia, we expect this sort of behavior from Sylvie,” Helen interrupted, “certainly not from you.”

  Felicia was undaunted. “She doesn’t fit in with this small-town atmosphere—”

  “Any more than you.”

  Felicia sputtered a little but kept on. “Didn’t you see the way they acted around each other? You can bet there was something going on.” Still, no one did more than stand open-mouthed. “Don’t any of you think it’s at all strange that she no sooner moves to town and Sean dies?”

  “Sean was a worm,” Amanda said. “He was bound to be killed sooner or later.”

  They all spotted Payton about the same time. Most had the grace to blush or look away. She didn’t wait for their embarrassed explanations. She couldn’t grin and bear it as Granny used to recommend when her brothers taunted her. She turned and ran up the hill, past her store. This little piggy went to market. This little piggy ran all the way home.

  Payton startled Mamie and a customer as she burst in the front door. “I’m not here,” was all she said. She raced upstairs and shut herself in the bedroom. She didn’t fling herself on the bed as she used to back in childhood Virginia. She opened the sliders and went out on the deck, shutting the door to close out sounds of life from below. Face still hot with betrayal, she leaned her elbows on the railing and lowered her head. The cool breeze did nothing to alleviate the pain. She’d thought Felicia had accepted her as one of them. They hadn’t become friends as such. There was that wall they’d each built around themselves.

  Mamie wasn’t a big enough bouncer to keep the determined Helen away. She came out on the deck as if she owned it, sidled next to Payton and put arm around her waist.

  “How can she think I killed Sean?”

  “She doesn’t…not really,” Helen replied. “The police were at her house for a long time yesterday. Brighton walked in while they were discussing Sunset and there was a huge row. She’s feeling a mite overwrought. You should have stayed around to see how Edward blasted her. Brought waves of delight to these old bones, I can tell you that.”

  Payton spun around, realized her knees were wobbly and leaned against the rail. Helen’s face looked flushed. “Felicia was in tears when I left.”

  Payton went back to looking at the harbor, now alight with afternoon sunshine. Where had the storm clouds gone? Then she laughed. “I was wondering where the storm clouds went. Then I realized I swallowed them.”

  Helen laughed too, and all at once they were giggling, unable to catch their breaths. Tears rolled down Payton’s cheeks, her breath came in staccato bursts. “How come no one’s racing?” she finally managed to ask.

  Helen managed a semblance of seriousness. “I don’t know.”

  There wasn’t much else to say. They leaned elbows on the railing, watching for activity in the harbor. It wasn’t hard to convince Helen to go home; the woman was itchy for more gossip.

  Payton tiptoed down to her office. Mamie tapped timidly on the door to say that Amanda had arrived. One by one, the rest of the Sackets Harbor Yacht Club members came—all but Felicia—voicing regret for what happened. Payton half-heartedly accepted all apologies.

  Once the gallery closed, Payton sat in her love seat with a glass of chardonnay and suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about Sean’s social security number. What difference did it make where he was born?

  She dialed Helen’s number.

  “Can I bring you something to eat, dear?”

  “No thanks, Helen. I’ve eaten,” Payton lied. “What do you remember about Sean’s birth?”

  “Not much, really. In those days, Carter and I were struggling financially. He worked for a Wat
ertown construction company, and I worked for an attorney in Watertown. Most nights I brought work home and there wasn’t time for socializing. The point is, it seemed as though all of a sudden Edna had herself a baby. Payton, I honestly don’t remember the woman being pregnant.”

  “Uh-huh,” was all Payton could think to say. Her mind was going a million miles an hour.

  “Is this important?”

  “I don’t know. It might be. Thanks.” Payton hung up.

  She was finishing bookwork when the doorbell rang. She dragged herself to the hallway, hoping it wasn’t Felicia. A confrontation with her just wouldn’t work right now. But Sylvie stood on the stoop, cuddling a longhaired white kitten. As soon as Payton’s eyes spotted the little feline, Sylvie stuffed it into her arms. “I thought you might need a friend.”

  Payton stifled a groan of dismay. What was she going to do with a kitten? Its untroubled blue eyes gazed out beneath long silky whiskers. The kitten’s tiny body trembled with its purrs and Payton couldn’t help clutching it to her chest. “What’s his name?”

  “She doesn’t have one yet.” Payton stepped back to invite Sylvie in but she waggled a finger. “I’ll be right back, I have to get something in the car.”

  “I hope it’s not another cat.” Payton laughed, meaning it.

  Sylvie returned, dropping a box on the hall floor. “It’s a litter box and food.”

  “Gee, Sylvie, I really can’t keep a kitten.”

  “Why not?”

  How could she say, I just don’t want the responsibility, and make it sound like she wasn’t completely heartless? “Would you like a glass of sherry?”

  “Love one.”

  They went to the kitchen. She handed the kitten to Sylvie and got glasses from the cabinet. Settled in chairs on the patio, the two women and the kitten sat in companionable silence watching the lights twinkling on the bay.

  “Sylvie, do you remember when Sean was born?”

  “Not really, why?”

  “Helen said she never knew Edna was pregnant. I would think someone—especially someone like Edna, who’d tried so hard to have a baby—would be so excited they couldn’t keep it quiet.”

  “You would think so.” Sylvie sipped the sherry.

  “I keep having this unsettled feeling, like there’s something I’ve missed.”

  “Can I help?” When Payton didn’t respond, she added, “You did ask for my help.”

  “Two things keep sticking in my head, Sean’s birth and the three paintings.”

  “Three paintings?”

  “Felicia’s Sunset. Amanda’s Commodore. And yesterday I found an identical Commodore in Sean’s house.”

  Sylvie put a finger to her pursed lips. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “That’s the problem. I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  Sylvie’s sharp laugh startled the kitten who stood up in Payton’s lap. After a minute, it kneaded her thigh a few times, then lay back down.

  “Here’s the question,” Payton said. “Why are there are two Commodores?”

  Sylvie’s lips puckered a little more. “He was a historical figure in town. Why couldn’t there be two?”

  “I looked at them closely. They’re just about identical.”

  “You’re saying it’s not likely an artist would paint the exact same painting twice.”

  Payton gave a slow noncommittal nod.

  “Want me to do some research?”

  “Sure. That would be helpful.”

  After Sylvie left, Payton prepared the kitten’s litter box and put it in the laundry room off the kitchen. She set bowls of food and water on the kitchen floor, put the kitten down so it could explore and went to her office. Had inviting Sylvie’s help been the right thing to do? Time would tell.

  Payton dialed Aden’s cell phone and received the same “the number is out of service” message. She dialed another number. This was answered on the second ring. She said, “Hi, it’s Payton.” The kitten padded into the room. “I was wondering if you’d like to take me out to dinner tomorrow night… Good, I’ll see you then. Good night.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  As Payton’s office clock finished striking 9 a.m., she dialed Pennsylvania’s Hall of Records. Five phone calls and 40 minutes later, she hung up satisfied but thoroughly confused. Sean Stephen Adams was born at 4:12 a.m. on September 12, 1978, in Scranton, Pennsylvania to Edna and Rodney Adams.

  Why would anyone travel over 200 miles to have a baby when there was a perfectly good hospital less than 10 miles away? Payton leaned back in the chair and tapped the pencil on her blotter. It didn’t make sense. A woman who’s due date is upon her doesn’t travel unless it’s an emergency. Her prenatal doctor, hospital room, everything at home is planned and ready for the new arrival. The security of being around family and familiar surroundings would keep a woman close to home, wouldn’t it?

  Payton hugged the still-nameless kitten good-bye, rolled up her raincoat and stuffed it in the briefcase beside the umbrella then walked to Claire’s house.

  Claire answered the door wearing a welcoming smile. “Good morning, come in.”

  It was Payton’s first visit here and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Since her impromptu call on Sylvie, she viewed many things in a different light. “I’m sorry for not calling. I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions.”

  If Claire was surprised, she gave no indication. She opened the door and waited for Payton to enter. Claire’s home was the complete antithesis of Sylvie’s. The place smelled like Pledge and Lestoil.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee, or tea?”

  “No thank you. I won’t keep you,” Payton said as Claire shuffled along the buffed hallway floor on the plastic soles of blue slip-on bedroom slippers. Payton and Claire sat at the kitchen table. Claire pushed aside a basket of artificial fruit and waited for Payton to speak.

  “Do you remember the name of Edna’s pediatrician?”

  Claire frowned, not from intense concentration. It was more a look of confusion. “Why would you want to know something like that?”

  “Humor me, please.”

  Claire looked as though she was trying to recall, but in the end, shook her head. “I really can’t remember. What’s this all about?”

  “Sean’s social security number says he was born in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I think it’s odd that Rodney and Edna would travel two hundred miles to have a baby when there’s a perfectly good hospital in Watertown.”

  “What possible difference could it make?”

  Payton gave a one-shoulder shrug. “You know how song lyrics can get in your head and no matter what you do, you can’t get rid of them? Well, I can’t stop thinking about this.”

  Claire appeared to give the matter a bit more thought, then seemed to come to a decision. “I wouldn’t like for you to spread this around. Even though all the parties are dead now, I just wouldn’t feel right.”

  Payton nodded.

  “Edna and Rod were having marital troubles. I think mostly it was because she was so determined to have a baby. She talked about it to me every day, so I’m sure she bombarded Rod with it. Years went by and it just didn’t happen for them. She finally begged him to adopt.”

  “He didn’t want to?”

  “He was adamantly against it. Anyway, when Edna found out she was pregnant, she was just about soaring through the clouds, you know what I mean? But, there was still a lot of tension between them. So, they decided to go away to have the baby.”

  “You were close to them?”

  “Edna was head librarian at the time. She gave me my first job when I came to town. I was just a kid then. When she died, I took over her job.”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “I suppose it could have been Scranton. I still don’t understand why you’re asking.”

  “It’s a puzzle with a piece missing.”

  Claire smiled. “One piece?”

  “There are a lot of missing pieces.�
��

  “When I have a puzzle with lots of pieces missing, I usually throw it away.”

  “Do you know if either Edna or Rodney had relatives there?”

  “I don’t know about Rod. He wasn’t a real social man, and the only relative I know Edna had was a sister, Elaine. She lived here in town until maybe ten years ago. I don’t know where she went. But it wasn’t Scranton. She went someplace warm.”

  Payton rose to leave. “Do you know if Mamie had the painting of the Commodore authenticated before Amanda bought it?”

  Another vexed frown from Claire, and then a nod. “She did. Sean asked her to do the documentation, but she said she wasn’t qualified. She got someone from the City.”

  “Was Amanda there during the documentation?”

  “Not that I heard.”

  * * * *

  Payton spent the rest of the morning in a thoughtful muddle. MaryAnn arrived a little before one, looking more like her normal self. The color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. She carried a brown paper bag, which she deposited on the counter. “I brought lunch.” She placed a ham and Swiss grinder before each of them while Payton went out back to get cold drinks and cups. They sat on the patio to eat.

  MaryAnn wadded a mouthful in her cheek. “Oh! I have to ask you something. Did you eat that slice of chocolate cake on my counter?”

  “Huh?”

  “The cake. Remember I said you should eat it?”

  Payton grinned. “I tasted the frosting. It was to die for, but I held back from eating the whole thing. Why?”

  “When I got home last night it was gone.”

  “You mean like a mouse came in and ate it?”

  “If he did, he ate the plate and the plastic wrap too. It was there that morning, because I was going to bring it to you. But I forgot. And when I got home, it was gone.”

  Payton laughed. “You can’t guess how many times I’ve thought about that darned slice of cake. The taste of that frosting has been on the back of my tongue ever since.”