“After I married Wayne, we settled into our life at the house. I already loved Paul like my own son. I felt sorry that he’d lost his mother and tried to make up for it, but it wasn’t easy. I hired private investigators to find Arthur, but by the time I gave birth to Emily in ‘66,1 was sure he was dead. Still, I always had someone out there looking. In 1973, the miracle happened. Arthur was discovered living in a flophouse on Lake Street. But, as I quickly discovered, he was still very ill. He was so thin and he didn’t recognize me.
“Funny. I always thought that his homecoming would be so different. He’d be completely over his sickness, he’d know me and I’d rush into his arms. Life isn’t like that, I guess. But slowly, as his strength came back and the drugs they put him on took effect, he came back to himself — and to me. I’d never been so happy. Our love was as vibrant and alive as it had been all those years ago. For Arthur, time had stopped. He’d aged fourteen years since I’d last seen him, but I was still the only woman he’d ever loved. For me, however, time hadn’t stopped. I’d married another man, a man I hated. I knew die marriage wasn’t legally valid because Arthur hadn’t been gone seven years when Wayne and I were wed. I was still legally married to Arthur. When I thought of what Wayne had done to me, it gave me a great deal of satisfaction knowing I could drop that on him at any time.
“And yet, before Arthur returned, I’d made a kind of peace with my life. That all changed in the blink of an eye in 1973. The problem was, if I told Wayne the truth, Emily would have been hurt terribly. She would have become the child of an unmarried couple. I knew she’d be devastated. The only family she’d ever known would have been ripped apart. But if I didn’t tell the truth, I denied Nathan his real father. Either way, somebody lost.
“I’m ashamed to say that my answer was finally determined by money. Arthur needed drugs, expensive drugs. And he needed therapy. Returning from the brink of madness is a long and expensive journey. If I told Wayne the truth, my access to that money would have been cut oif. I wanted Arthur to have the best. It seemed ironic that Wayne would end up paying for it, but that irony also appealed to me. After Arthur moved into the house, he started thinking about going back to school. Again the issue was finances. He didn’t have a penny, but I did. When Wayne died, the entire estate came to me.
“Arthur went back to get his master’s at die University of Minnesota and later his Ph.D. at UCLA. And yes,” she added, “I did sleep with my husband on the day Wayne found us together. He shouldn’t have been home that early, but he was. He was so angry, I never had a chance to tell him the truth. I wanted to that day. I would have risked everything just to see the look on his face, but he died before I could tell him. Maybe his medication would have helped him, maybe not. It’s probably the single worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I don’t regret it for a minute. His death set things right. I was finally free of him, and I had the resources to give my husband everything he needed to get well. My regrets lie solely with my children.”
Arthur was silent throughout Constance’s explanation. Now it was his turn to talk. “Nathan, you have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you I was your father. I’m so proud of you. You’ve become such a fine man. Your mother and I were young and stupid, too young to see that the decisions we made would affect our lives — and yours — forever. But we loved each other and we loved you. We never tried to hurt anyone, we were just trying to survive. Every life is an odyssey. One never knows from one minute to the next what’s going to happen. If you could just find it in your heart to forgive us. Ever since I came back into your life, I’ve tried to be there for you. If you could just tell me I haven’t failed completely…”
Sophie could feel Nathan stir beside her. He’d been so still while his mother was talking, she’d almost forgotten he was there.
He eased slowly to the edge of the couch, leaned his elbows on his knees, and said, “You’ll have to give me a little time. This is pretty… mind-bending.”
“As much time as you want,” said Arthur quickly, hopefully.
“As far as forgiveness goes,” continued Nathan, “there’s nothing to forgive. I know how devoted you’ve been to my mother all these years and she to you. And you’ve been a good friend to me. We were all caught in a web and we couldn’t get free. I’m sorry you had to keep so much of your life a secret. I’m sad to say that I know what that’s like.”
“But no more secrets now,” said Kenny, his voice once again oddly cheerful.
“This is disgusting,” said Paul, glaring at everyone. “This touching little family scene makes me want to puke. Emily’s going to be thrilled to find out she’s illegitimate. You lost me a long time ago, Constance or Betty or whatever the hell your name is, but you’d better be prepared to lose your daughter now, too.”
“We’ve got to call her,” said Constance, her lower lip be ginning to tremble. She grabbed Arthur’s arm. “I don’t want her to hear this from someone else. Where’s your phone?” she asked, glancing over at Nathan.
“No phones,” said Kenny.
Constance looked up at him, surprised.
“We’ve got another little matter we’ve got to discuss before this meeting’s over. Constance, I doubt anyone’s bothered to fill you in on our involvement with George Gildemeister and the Belmont, but perhaps one of your sons would like to do it now.”
“Gildemeister?” repeated Arthur. “Isn’t he the man who was just murdered by that restaurant owner?”
“Thrns out,” said Kenny, stepping directly in front of the fireplace, “that Mr. Hongisto, the restaurant owner, didn’t do it. But one of us did.”
Constance shot off the bench again. “What are you saying?”
“Sit down.”
“Don’t order me around.”
“I said, sit down!” His voice had risen to a commanding shout.
Constance stared at him for a moment, then did as he asked. A look of panic suddenly crossed her face. “You mean, someone in this family —”
“That’s right. It was Paul’s idea. Bribe a food critic to pan a restaurant, then wait to see what happens. If it falters and looks as if it may close, the Buckridge boys zoom in and buy it at a huge discount. How do you think we managed to acquire all those ritzy restaurants at such great prices?”
Constance looked dumbfounded. “Nathan, is this true?”
“Nathan should know,” said Kenny with a dry smile. “He’s the one who took care of Gildemeister.”
“That’s a lie!” said Nathan.
“There’s even an eyewitness,” continued Kenny. “But he had to do it. Gildemeister was going to blow the whistie on our operation. We couldn’t have that. I suppose when it comes right down to it, Nathan is a hero.”
“You’re slime, Merlin,” said Nathan.
Sophie could tell he was barely restraining himself, but Nathen knew Kenny had a gun. That changed the balance of power.
“God, I had no idea,” said Paul. “You’re in some pretty deep shit, bro. We all are. I agree with Kenny. We have to deal with this right now.”
Kenny ignored them both. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. Our world seems to be crashing down around our ears. Constance and her brother-husband have just been labeled sexual outlaws for all the world to see and judge. Turns out Paul and Emily’s daddy was a murderer. Don’t think that won’t be emblazoned on the jacket of Marie Damontraville’s book. And we have a more immediate issue in George Gildemeister and his recent demise. Any suggestions? Solutions?”
“You know what?” said Paul. “I’ve had it. My solution is to wash my hands of all of you.” He was about to get up when Kenny pulled out his gun.
“I’m the one who’s
had it
with this family. And I’ve decided there’s only one way out.”
Sophie’s eyes opened wide. “What do you mean?” she asked, attempting not to stare at the barrel.
Holding the gun almost casually, Kenny continued. “Here’s how I see it playing out. Paul Buckridge thinks Constance murdered his real mom. To help him discover the truth, he finds a woman who is known for writing tabloid-style investigative biographies of famous people. He promises her a great story. But when he finds out his father murdered his mother, it’s too much for him. At almost the same moment, he sees his own career going down the drain when an article in a national magazine breaks the story that his stepmother is a sexual deviant. Since his career is inextricably tied to hers, he feels his life has been destroyed. All he can think of is revenge.
“He calls a family meeting in a remote area, an old monastery. When everyone gets there, he pulls out a gun and demands that one member of the family tie the others up.” Looking directly at Paul, Kenny reached inside his coat and pulled out a roll of duct tape. “Here,” he said, tossing it to him. “Doit.”
“You want me to tie up my family?”
“Wrists behind their backs, ankles, and one piece of tape across each mouth. And do it tightiy. I’m watching.”
“What if I refuse?”
Slowly, Kenny leveled the .38 at Paul’s chest. “You have to ask? But if you cooperate, I think we might be able to strike a deal.”
“Meaning what?”
He paused. “You hate these people as much as I do. We’ll make it look like a murder-suicide. Only in this scenario Nathan will be the one who goes crazy, not you. We’ll have to tweak the motivation slightly, but it won’t be a problem. What do you say? We’ll take over the family business together. I could do it alone, I suppose, but I need someone like you. I’m not a chef. Besides, Emily loves you, and I love Emily. We can make it work. I know we can. Is it a deal?”
Paul looked from face to face. Finally, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I like it.”
“Me, too. Now get busy.”
As Paul began to unroll the tape, everyone in the room started talking at once.
“You’ll never get away with it,” said Nathan.
“Paul, you’re not thinking clearly,” cried Arthur. “Don’t help him do this to us!”
“Let’s just talk about it for another few minutes,” said Constance, sounding desperate. “Surely we can come to some other conclusion!”
“I was supposed to be home an hour ago,” pleaded Sophie. “My husband has called the police by now. And he knows where I am.”
“Then we’d better hurry,” said Kenny. “By the way, I’m so pleased you could join us this evening, Sophie. It saves me the trouble of having to track you down later.”
In a matter of minutes everyone was bound and gagged.
“Now it’s time for the gasoline,” said Kenny, walking around and checking Paul’s handiwork.
“What gasoline?” asked Paul, edging over to the fireplace.
“It’s out in my car.”
“You’re going to burn the place down?”
“I know. It’s such beautiful wood. But it’s a sacrifice we have to make. And, lucky for everyone, it will go up in a matter of minutes.”
“I’ll go get it,” offered Paul. ‘Toss me your keys.” As Kenny reached into his pocket, Paul grabbed the fireplace poker and lunged at him.
Kenny stood his ground and shot Paul point-blank in the head. The fireplace poker dropped next to Kenny’s shoe as Paul hit the floor with a thud.
Through her gag, Constance began to scream.
“This whole family is nothing but a bunch of fucking morons,” muttered Kenny, slipping the gun back into his pocket and then dragging Paul out the front door by his feet.
On the way through Stillwater, Bram and Harry pulled into a gas station to get directions to New Fonteney. After starting the pump, Bram approached the service desk and cornered the first person he ran into, a young kid who looked about sixteen. “You ever heard of New Fonteney?” he asked.
The kid stopped and scratched the side of his arm. “They played in town last winter, I think. Rhythm and blues, right?”
“Right,” said Bram, heading into the garage. This time he found a middle-aged man sitting on a stool, wiping the grime off a carburetor. “Excuse me,” he said, then waited for the man to look up. “Do you know where New Fonteney is?”
“Sorry. Ask Dean. He’s lived around here longer than me.”
“Where would I find him?”
He shrugged. “Probably around back having his dinner.”
Bram darted out of the garage door, sprinted past the rest rooms on the side of the station, and finally found a white-haired man sitting on a plastic lawn chair. He was halfway through a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Are you Dean?”
“Last I heard.”
“The guy inside said you’d be able to give me directions to New Fonteney.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On which entrance you’re looking for.”
“Isn’t there a main entrance?”
“Sure, but it’s not as scenic. If you park near the south gate, you approach it from the woods. Spectacular view of the river.”
“I’m not into grandeur. I’m into speed.”
“Your loss.” He took a sip of Coke, then adjusted his glasses. “Take 95 out of town. When you come to County Road 74, turn right. It’s about five miles from there. You can’t miss the sign. Well, unless it’s dark.” He peered up at the sky. “It’s getting on toward dusk. Might be a problem.”