AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He dropped to the floor, a little out of breath with the exertion, and righted the chair.
“Now, I’m thirty-two, a former Army Ranger, I work out all the time.”
She stared at the chair and then back at him.
He continued, “Now what if I had a fused spine, bad knees, a pair of wrecked hips, oh, and I’m about fifty years older. And one more thing: I didn’t have a noose around my neck choking me to death at the time. And the noose that was used?I’dhave a hard time fashioning it and I don’t have arthritis in my fingers.”
Palmer stared at Devine for a few moments before she plopped into the chair and drew a long breath. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Shit. Someone killed him.”
“I believe they did, yes.”
She stood, marched over to the counter, opened a drawer, pulled out a set of keys, and tossed them to Devine.
“These are to my grandfather’s place. Find the son of a bitch who did this,” she said.
“I plan to,” replied Devine.
CHAPTER
69
DOES IT EVER STOP RAININGin this damn town?thought Devine as he ran from the truck to the front door of Earl Palmer’s cottage. He’d done deployments in tropical climates where it was drier.
He unlocked the door and went inside. Devine was about to undertake a methodical search that would require several hours. What he was looking at were the remains of a life, of a family that had once lived here, cried here, and died here.
The place was neat, on the surface, but when Devine opened drawers, he found the clutter of decades that oftentimes folks just gave up on. And rather than tossing it all, they stuck it away in places that could not be seen. And as the years piled on so did the detritus.
Out of sight, out of mind.
The closet in the main floor bedroom still held Alberta Palmer’s clothes and shoes, and a large assortment of women’s hats. The latter were well used, billowy, some touched by the sweat and grime that came with hard work—but Earl, he was sure, would never have gotten rid of any of these things. He could imagine him opening this door every day to see the material reminders of the woman he loved.
There were lotions and a glass bottle of perfume on the bathroom sink. Two toothbrushes were still hanging from the holder built onto the wall.
In a drawer in the small den he found piles of notes that Alberta had written to her husband; most also had drawings of some kind that clearly showed the skill and talent of the artist who had created them. She had signed all of them with “Love, Your Bertie.”
Devine sat down in the only chair in the room and found his eyes watering as he read one note after another. “Have a good lobster day.” “Don’t forget, sunscreen. This ain’t the seventies anymore!” He lingered the longest over a drawing of what was clearly Earl and his missus walking hand in hand down the rocky shore. The accompanying note read simply: “Happy Retirement to Us, My Love.”
He carefully folded the notes and replaced them in the drawer.
As he looked out the window the rain picked up, and there was even a slash of lightning and an accompanying crack of thunder to go along with it.
He went back into the front room and looked over a shelf of tattered VHS tapes and DVDs. Some were commercial movies but others looked to be of family and other personal events. He looked at the labels on the cases: birthday parties, weddings, anniversaries. Then his gaze held on one. The label read:WILBUR KINGMAN’S FUNERAL.
He pulled out the DVD case and looked around. Under the TV was a DVD player. He popped the disc in and turned on the TV. He sat back in a chair and started the DVD.
The scene opened in what looked to be a church. The coffin was brought in and set up near the altar. The place was packed, and Devine paused the movie so he could see who was there.
In the front row was Patricia Kingman surrounded by what was probably her family. Her black dress hung off her, as though the woman had suddenly shed weight after losing her husband.
He saw a years-younger Fred Bing up near the coffin directing the black-clad funeral home crew. Then he saw two older, tall men standing together off to the side. They looked so much like Bing that he reckoned they were his father and uncle, who had inherited the business fromtheirfather, before passing it on to Fred and Françoise.
And there was Françoise Guillaume near the door greeting people as they entered.
In another row were Dak, Jenny, and Alex Silkwell. This was the first time Devine had seen Jenny other than in a still picture or as a corpse on a table. She was sitting between her brother and sister and seemed to be consoling Dak, while Alex stared straight ahead with the look of a woman who wasn’t really sure where she was. Clare Robards and Senator Silkwell sat next to their adult children.
Harper was in the back row, dressed in a sergeant’s uniform. Devine didn’t see Wendy Fuss anywhere.
There was a whole group of burly, tough-looking men in ill-fitting or ancient suits. He figured they were Kingman’s fellow lobstermen, there to pay their respects to one of their own who had fallen. Their eyes were red, their faces puffy, and, to a man, they looked stricken.
