The Severed Thread (11 page)

“Abigail!” she exclaimed, jumping up as soon as she spotted me coming toward her.

“Mom, I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”  I hugged her tightly trying to convey as much love and regret as possible into a single embrace.  

“It’s alright dear,” she reassured me as I released her.  “Your Aunt Gracie has been with me.”

I nodded before turning to hug my aunt as well.    

“This is what families do.  We help each other, through the good and the bad,” she told me with a reassuring smile, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear.  “I’m just glad you were able to be here to help with the funeral arrangements.  I was never good as spectacles.”

“Me neither,” I grimaced.  “It looks like we have at least forty five minutes before the funeral director gets here,” I said after checking the time on my phone.  “Do you think we could have some tea and talk about a game plan before he arrives?”

Over tea we discussed what we wanted the funeral director to take care of for us and what my mother felt she wanted to handle herself.

“Your father already prepared Jason’s obituary,” she told me, pulling a sheet of paper I had not previously noticed from a side table. 

I stiffened at the thought of my father writing Jason’s obituary.  I tried to shake it off as I took the document from her hands.  I could feel my barely restrained control beginning to slip for the second time in less than twenty four hours and I struggled to retain some semblance of composure in front of my mother.  I met my aunt’s eyes and saw there a less intense version of the same anger I was feeling.  I was guessing she had already read it.

Lassiter, Jason R., Age 27 died on September 23
^rd
at his sister’s home in Villanova, Pennsylvania.  Jason was the Vice President of Operations for Lassiter Shipping, a subsidiary of Lassiter Enterprise Holdings.  He is survived by his parents, Senator Quentin Lassiter and Katharine Clement-Lassiter of Gladwyne, Pennsylvania and his sister Abigail Lassiter of Villanova, Pennsylvania.  Services will be held at [time, day and date of memorial service] at [place of service].  The private interment will be at the Odd Fellows Cemetery in Gladwyne.  Relatives and friends are invited to a private reception following the internment at the home of Senator and Mrs. Lassiter.

The obituary was cold and succinct, exactly what I had learned to expect from my father.  No mention of how he was the
beloved
son of Senator Quentin Lassiter, or that he would be
missed
by his family.  It stated just the bare facts.  I needed to remember to thank my father for his thoughtfulness in providing the fill in the blank sections for us to write in the particulars of the service.  It was completely idiot proof.  How methodical of him.  I guess he was afraid to leave the obituary to us in case we outlandishly thought to mention that we actually cared for Jason.  I was determined that my father would
not
be doing the eulogy.

“How… thoughtful of him,” I said in a strangled voice while offering my mother what I hoped passed for a smile.  It was the best I could muster but I feared it was nothing more than a feral bearing of my teeth.  Thankfully she did not seem to notice since she was intently rereading the sham of an obituary.  I glanced at Aunt Gracie to find a worried frown on her face as she studied me.  Her troubled expression confirmed my suspicion that I was not hiding my stress well.

“So, who gets to fill in the blanks?” I asked.  I was hopeful that I could snatch up that job.  Then I could rewrite the whole damn thing before I sent it off.

“It has already been sent to Mr. Landry, the funeral director,” she informed me, squashing any hope of making changes.  “Once we make our plans today, he will update it and send it off to the appropriate publications.”  Leave it to Quentin to think of everything.

“Wonderful,” I said, feeling my frustration mount.  Just
fucking
wonderful.

I had a few moments to stew on that little revelation before Mr. Landry arrived.  He was a narrow little man with a milky complexion, ebony hair and a serious but sympathetic demeanor.  Everything one could hope for in the person helping you to send your loved one on their final journey.  I disliked him immediately even knowing that I was not being rational.  I was sure that he was a very nice man on some level but he was the person making the arrangements to bury my brother, someone who my father had picked to keep everything as sterile as possible.

I somehow made it through two hours hashing out the details of my brother’s final goodbye.   I even managed to be helpful with the planning while simultaneously worrying about keeping up with McCallister’s timeline.

Chapter 10

My cell rang just as I was getting into my car to head home from my parent’s house.  It was Samantha.

“Hey, Sam.  What’s up?” I asked after starting my car.  I slowly maneuver it back around the fountain, towards the front gates.

“I think I have come up with a plan to get you to the port for a legitimate reason.”

“Great, let’s hear it,” I said as I passed through the gates with a smile and wave for Thomas.

“The Lassiter Tempest docked this morning and will be in port for the next two days,” she explained hurriedly.  The captain of the Lassiter Tempest was Donald Suterman.  Donald had been friends with Jason for years.  He was a shifter.  Shifters, unlike Weres, could have jobs at sea because they are not influenced by the moon.  Having a werewolf stuck on a ship at sea during the full moon would be a disaster. 

“Alright…” I replied slowly, not sure where she was going with this information.

“I think we should pay a visit to her captain and then check out the containers afterwards.  Our cover story will be that we are meeting with each captain as they come into port to discuss Sal’s new role and answer any questions they might have about Jason’s death.” 

“That might work,” I said thoughtfully.  It really was a good idea.  Donald would be upset about Jason’s death and it made sense to visit with him while he was in port.  It would also give me the excuse I needed to be at the terminal, a place I practically never visited. 

“I think it will too,” she countered excitedly.  “It’s perfectly reasonable that you are going to the marine terminal to meet with Donald. No one should notice when we slip out to check the cargo containers on our way back to the car.  And, I can ask Sal to have them staged near each other so we are not tromping all over looking for them.” 

“I like it,” I said.  “It gives us a credible reason to be at the port, and it’s probably a good idea to meet with Donald anyway.”  Actually, now that I was thinking about it, I felt a little ashamed I had not thought to go see him already.  He was Jason’s friend, and he had to be upset.  He’d left a message at the office for me yesterday, and I had asked Johanna to get back with him since I already had a lot to juggle.

“We should also ask him if he knows of any new friends or associates of Jason’s.”

“Good thinking,” I said.  “I can call Donald and arrange a time to meet with him.”

“Ah… I already did it for you,” she said sheepishly.  “I was banking on your liking the idea.”

“Obviously,” I responded with a laugh.  “Thanks Sam.”

“No worries.  By the way, he invited us for dinner.  We are supposed to be there at six.”

“Okay.  How did it go with the agents earlier?” I asked, changing the subject.

“It went fine.  They wanted to talk to me, Johanna, Sal and a few others.  They didn’t ask for anything in the way of records for now but they did warn that they might be back for more information later.”

“Good.  We can cross the warrant bridge if we have to.” 

“Did I mention that that Smathon guy is super creepy?” 

“Really?” I said sarcastically.  “I hadn’t noticed”

“Funny,” she said.  “You could have warned me about the dead fish handshake.”

“Yeah,” I said dragging out the word.  “Sorry about that.  I forgot until it was really too late to mention it.”

“Mmmhmm.”  She didn’t sound convinced.

“Look, you would have had to shake his hand anyway.”

“True,” she said archly, “but at least I could have steeled myself first.”

I laughed.  “I will be back at the office shorty.  I wasn’t going to come in but maybe I can get a few things done before we have to head out to the terminal.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.”

I stopped back at the office and had enough time to answer a few emails before Samantha and I headed out at five-fifteen to make the short drive to the terminal.  Samantha had called ahead and gotten permission from the port.  Upon arrival at the main gate, we were cleared through security and given a visitors placard for the car as well as name tags we were cautioned to wear at all times.  We parked the car in the visitor’s parking lot adjacent to the main gate complex and from there we were escorted to the Lassiter Tempest by Port Authority personnel.

Donald was waiting on deck for us when we arrived.  “Abigail, Samantha, welcome!”   His smile was bright but his eyes reflected a deep well of sadness lurking below the exuberant greeting.

“Hi Donald.”  I barely get out the words before I was folded into a hug.  He smelled of oil and brine with a hint of musky shifter.   “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, although I wish the circumstances were different” he said leaning back and giving me a soft smile.  He then turned his attention to Samantha.  There was a wistful yearning in his expression that I had never noticed before.  Samantha and Donald had dated a few times in the past but nothing serious.  At least that was her story.  But seeing him look at her made me consider perhaps there was more to it, at least on his side of things.

“Samantha,” he breathed before hugging her as well.  I watched her face over his shoulder before looking away.  She looked a bit tragic standing there stiffly while being embraced.  Viewing the interplay was disconcerting because I was sure Donald could feel her resistance.   “It’s nice to see you as well,” he offered lamely as he released her.

“You too,” she said with a halfhearted smile.  It suddenly felt very awkward standing there with the specter of some mysterious discord hanging in the air.

“Well,” Donald said as he rubbed his hands together uneasily.  “I arranged to have dinner in the meeting room.  I thought it would be comfortable there and offer us some privacy.  Why don’t we head up now so we can catch-up?”

“That would be great.  Lead the way.” I swept my arm out in front of me indicating that I would follow.   As we trailed him inside, I poked Samantha and gave her a questioning look. 

“
What was that?
” I sent silently to her.   She just shrugged and shook her head.  I would be asking again later when we are alone.  There was definitely more between her and Donald than she had previously let on. 

When we arrived at the meeting room, Donald sent a jumpsuit clad crewman off to the galley to get the food.  The table was already set and there was coffee and soda on a long low counter anchored along one wall.  We each got drinks and settled around the table while waiting for our dinner to arrive.

“I assume you heard that Sal will be filling in for Jason?”  I asked, trying to breach the tension.

“Yes,” Donald nodded.  “He was a good choice.  I spoke with him earlier today about the logistics of our next trip.  It seems like he has slipped into the role fairly seamlessly.”  He paused for a moment before continuing.  “I asked Sal to delay our departure.  I hope that is alright.  We will have to give the crew some paid leave time as well as pay additional docking fees but I really wanted to attend the funeral.  Unfortunately we were originally scheduled to leave in two days, which is the night before the funeral.”

“I’m glad to hear you are coming.”  I put a reassuring hand on his arm.  “Jason would have wanted that.  And, don’t worry about the costs, Lassiter Shipping can afford it.  Ask Sal to handle any timing changes necessary for the shipments.” 

All three of us were silent in our thoughts when Donald asked abruptly, “So what happened, Abigail?” He looked haunted, this unanswered question obviously eating away at him.  “I don’t understand why someone would kill Jason, let alone like that.”

“I don’t know, but I can assure you that I plan on finding out.”  I hesitated a second before continuing.  “I was actually hoping that you might know something that would help.” 

“I didn’t see a lot of Jason the last few times I was here.  I did have drinks with him back in August but he seemed happy.  Normal.” 

“Well, we all know that Jason could get pulled into some bad financial ventures but as a rule it was something to sue over, not kill over.”  I had been dishing out this half-truth to so many that it was slipping off my tongue with an ease that worried me.  “I have been trying to figure out if he might have gotten mixed up with the wrong someone here at the port.  If you think of anything odd, let me know.”

“You can count on it.”

We finished the rest of the meal sharing lighthearted stories about Jason.  It was cathartic to speak of good things about my brother – of the love and affection for him we all shared.  Even though coming here tonight was primarily an excuse to get out to the port, it ended up being a great evening.  The interlude was an upbeat bubble of time within the greater sphere of stress and unrealistic timelines.

It was getting late by the time Samantha and I finally departed with a promise from Donald to pass on any information he might pick up from the rampant rumor mill at the port.  There was another awkward embrace between Donald and Samantha before we were finally off to complete the real task of the night.

“Donald looked good.”  I innocently looked over at her.

“Yeah, he did,” she agreed as she continued to stride away from the Lassiter Tempest, refusing to look over at me. 

“You going to tell me about it?”

“About what?”  Hmm, someone sounded a tad surly. 

“Ha!”  I snorted humorlessly.  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”  My eyes slide over to look out at row after row of stacked containers before settling pensively back on her.  She was running her hands through her hair restlessly.