Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel (5 page)

Andi took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I guess one of his suits. He has a charcoal gray suit that looks nice. Guess I’ll go get it together so it'll be ready when they find him.”

As if on cue, her cell chirped. She took a deep breath and answered.

The detective's gruff voice greeted her. "Body washed up. Old couple walking the coastline up near Black Bear Cove found it."

Andi's fingers turned white as she gripped the phone. She met her mother's concerned eyes and nodded.

"You there?"

She nodded, then said, "Yes. Yes, I'm here."

"Medical examiner's takin' the body. After he's done, he'll send it over to the funeral home. Be a day or so."

A chunk of ice settled in her gut and the cold spread throughout her body. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard. "Do I need to identify the body?"

He snorted, "No need. We got dental records waitin' at the morgue."

The phone went dead. She lowered her hand and stared at the phone. No pleasantries whatsoever with that man.

So, they found him.

Her husband was dead.

She shivered, then squeezed her eyes shut, but no tears fell. Maybe that would happen at the funeral.

Martha cleared her throat and said, "Well, then. I guess we need to make sure those clothes are at the funeral home." She scooted forward on the sofa as Andi pushed herself to her feet. The two walked upstairs. Martha kept one hand under Andi's elbow as if she were the elderly person that might fall at any moment and break a hip.

When they reached the master bedroom, Andi turned to her mother and said, “I need to do this myself. Alone. Okay?”

Martha gave a quick nod and said, “I’m tired. I think I’ll go take a nap. Call me if you need anything.”

What Andi really needed was to talk to Dana. She’d call when she got back. Andi didn't want to bother her or worry her. Hopefully she’d get back in time for the funeral. It wasn’t like Dana could do anything, it'd just be nice to talk to her.

In the meantime, there were things that needed to be tended to, though, so Andi took a deep breath and turned her attention to picking out something for her husband to be buried in.

Neutral shades gave the bedroom a modern, but elegant look. The room was longer than it was wide, with a sitting area in front of the deep bay window. It would have been the perfect place for a reading nook, with a comfortable chair and a side table just large enough for a book and a cup of tea. Instead, Chad set up his treadmill there. Andi walked to his closet, the larger of the two closets in the room, and tugged the double doors open. She selected a dark gray suit and the ivory button down shirt that hung with it. She stood for a moment fingering the smooth silkiness of the suit, remembering the day he bought it.

He spent more on that one suit than she spent on clothes in a year, but when she mentioned that she’d like to get a new shirt, too, he pointed out that he made the money, and her contribution was zero, so he would spend his money any way he saw fit. She reminded him that he would not let her get a job.

She touched her jaw with the tips of her fingers, remembering how it had popped painfully when he responded with a closed fist.

She sighed, grateful he would not be able to hurt her again.

The telephone on the nightstand jangled and demanded her attention.

“Hello?”

“I know what you did.”

"Who is this?" Her nerves tingled. “What do you want?”

"I want those documents." He breathed heavily into the phone. "You thought they were worth killing for and I have no problem doing whatever I have to do to get you out of the way. I'll be in touch.”

The phone went dead and she dropped onto the bed, her mouth hanging open. What the heck? That made no sense at all.

Martha hollered from across the hall, "Who was that?"

Andi blinked and stared at the phone. "I don't know."

"Do you need help picking out something?"

"No. No, I'm fine. I'll do it." Someone's idea of a bad joke?

She shook her head and turned to the dresser to open his valet box. He would want to be buried with his diamond cufflinks, even though no one would see them. Two rough pink and green rocks sat next to his cufflinks in a little velvet lined compartment. She frowned. Seemed like an odd thing for him to keep there. She scooped up the diamonds and clipped them to his dress shirt. She opened his top dresser drawer to get a monogrammed handkerchief for the suit pocket, then slammed the drawer shut, a bit harder than she intended. Something rattled. She frowned, opened the drawer again and rummaged through the contents. In the back of the drawer, tucked under the lining, she found a small brown envelope. She squeezed it open and a key on a beaded chain dropped into her palm.

What could it possibly open?

T
he metal felt cool in her palm. She flipped the small, gold-colored key over, but there was no writing on either side of the round head. It didn’t look familiar.

The doorbell chimed and Mama hollered that she would get it. Andi stuck the key in her jeans’ pocket, then grabbed the suit and shirt and went downstairs.

Mrs. Harrison stepped inside and held out a basket of muffins. “I thought you might like some of my wicked good chocolate chip muffins.”

Andi's mother accepted the basket.

"Again, Andi, I’m so sorry for your loss. You know, I lost Mr. Harrison several years ago, so if you ever need to talk or want someone to go to dinner with, you just let me know.” Mrs. Harrison's hand fluttered at her chest. "Poor dear had a stroke and hung on for nearly a year. Awful way to go, that."

Andi wasn't sure how to respond.

Mrs. Harrison's thinly drawn eyebrows inched up her forehead. “Thought I'd stop in and offer to take the clothes up to the funeral home for you.”

Andi blinked, “I’m sorry?”

The woman smiled, exposing a smudge of red lipstick on her front tooth. “I heard they found the body. I’m sure that was a mess, after being in the water, what with all the crabs and sharks and lobsters nibbling away.”

Anger flared, but Andi took a deep breath and kept her voice steady, just as she learned to do with Chad. “I’m not really sure. The police notified me that the body had been recovered and would be delivered to the funeral home.” She bowed her head slightly and let her dark hair fall forward to hide her face.

The wiry woman plucked the clothes out of Andi's hands and draped them over her arm. “Closed casket, I assume?”

Andi stepped forward and started to close the door. “Yes. Thanks again.”

Mrs. Harrison craned her neck forward, but Andi closed the door before the woman could ask anything else. A shiver ran up Andi's spine. She leaned back against the door for a moment, then followed Martha into the kitchen.

“I’ll add Mrs. Harrison’s muffins to her list. She’s already brought over a casserole and a fresh loaf of bread.” Martha scribbled the addition to her detailed list of those who had stopped by to offer their condolences in the form of a casserole or pan of lasagna.

“Thanks, Mama. I’ll get thank you notes out after the funeral.” It was one of the niceties of small town living that Andi treasured. It was nice to not have to think about what to make for dinner for a change. She glanced at the menu displayed on the refrigerator, started to walk away, then stopped. She pivoted on one foot, then tore the paper off and wadded it up.

Her meals would never be dictated by a menu on the refrigerator again now that Chad was gone.

Friends and neighbors dropped by throughout the day, most bearing food, and all curious. Playing the part of the grieving widow sapped her energy. Life had been turned upside down, and Andi found it difficult to keep from withdrawing into herself. She wanted to escape to her room with a good book. Instead, she made her way around the room with a tray of little individual quiches. Virginia Fable, the nosy neighbor at the end of the block, stopped Andi. Virginia arrived earlier in the afternoon with her infamous ziti casserole, which she took to every church dinner and potluck in town. And which she packed home nearly full every time because she never actually cooked the ziti.

She waggled a crooked finger under Andi's nose and chided, “It is not appropriate for you to play host when you’ve just lost your husband. You should be sitting there crying.”

Stunned, Andi dropped her chin and hid behind her dark hair as it fell forward. The heat in her cheeks frustrated her. Head still down, she glanced around and made eye contact with her mother. Martha met her eyes and nodded towards a chair. Andi sighed, then sat down and played the part that was expected. Except for the crying. The tears still wouldn't come.

Two days later, Martha drove her daughter to the funeral home for the visitation. Mr. Bolan greeted the two women at the entry and led them down a plush hallway to a hushed room. The casket sat at the front of the room, the polished steel gleaming. Martha had suggested the funeral director close the casket before they arrived, and Andi was glad for that.

She hadn't seen her husband since he disappeared over the cliff. Had no desire to see him again, either. In a way, she'd already grieved the loss of her husband. That process started less than six months into the marriage, when the fairytale evaporated into thin air as the real Chad revealed himself. The tears weren’t there to fall anymore.

A red sash that said simply "husband" wove through the large floral arrangement draped over the top of the casket. Another funeral spray, slightly smaller, sat next to the arrangement Andi had picked out. No card, no banner. Odd. Andi made a mental note to ask the funeral director about it, or perhaps the florist, in case the card had been dropped. She wanted to make sure everyone who sent flowers was properly thanked.

One of Chad's professional photos, the same as on his business card, sat on an easel propped up next to the casket. His smile, his best feature, was at least partially responsible for his success as a dentist. Martha held Andi's elbow as they walked to the front of the room, then stood in front of the casket. Andi reached out and caressed the cold metal with her fingertips, wondering what he looked like inside the darkness, then she turned away.

Mr. Bolan led them to the front row. The two women sat quietly. Andi's gaze lit on the casket, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Numbness spread throughout her body, and she wondered when she would begin feeling again.

A strangled sob broke the silence.

She turned to see a tall, thin blonde staggering up the aisle, a thick man with a dark tan at her side, gripping her elbow. Seeing her mother-in-law always made her feel inadequate. Cora was everything Andi wasn't - elegant, cultured and gorgeous. Andi smoothed her thick dark hair self-consciously, then tugged at her black dress. It clung to her generous curves and reminded Andi of Chad's description of her. Round. She sighed and faced forward, anxious to avert her eyes from her perfect mother-in-law.

Martha had called Chad's mother to pass along the details of the arrangements, but the last message from Cora indicated they were flying into Portland and renting a car so no one would have to pick them up. They lived in California, never visited Maine – Chad always flew out to see them -- and rarely called. When Cora did call, she didn’t talk to Andi. Being an only child, Chad was the center of her life. And he outlasted three husbands.

“Oh, my baby! My baby!” Cora fell forward, pressing her rouged cheek to the casket.

When she finally stood, she kept a protective hand on the smooth metal, as though it connected her to her son. She squared her shoulders, then turned and pinned Andi with cold, gray eyes. Andi felt as if she were looking into Chad's eyes again.

Grant released Cora, and turned away from the casket. He smiled sadly as he stepped forward, then leaned down to give Andi an awkward hug.

“I’m so sorry. So sorry,” he whispered against her hair.

She squeezed back, thankful that he wasn’t searching for just the right thing to say. That seemed to just make things worse. Several people had lamented her husband’s untimely death. What was that supposed to mean anyway? It’s not like you jot it down in your DayPlanner. Andi was sick of hearing what a wonderful man her husband had been from people who knew nothing of the man she shared her home and bed with.

“I know. It’s awful,” she whispered back. For the first time, she felt tears threaten, but none spilled over. She sniffled and looked up as Grant straightened. Cora moved to stand beside him and wrapped her bony hands around his arm, then stared at Andi.

Martha motioned to the cushioned pew. "Please, have a seat."

Grant sat next to Andi, with Cora beside him. An occasional sniffle broke the silence. The doors opened and people started filing in, some Andi knew and some she didn’t, but all insisted on telling her what a shame it was to lose such a wonderful man before his time. She nodded, accepted hugs and let Martha handle the questions.

Cora nattered on about her “baby,” and occasionally broke out in a high-pitched wail that hurt the ears.

At last, Andi spotted a friendly face, and waited anxiously for her best friend to pay her respects. Dana looked completely put together as always, in a black suit with a beige blouse and a simple strand of pearls at her neck. Freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks gave her a youthful appearance. Her red hair was shoulder length, straight, shiny and healthy.

Dana leaned in and gave Andi a real hug, a tight, caring embrace. Dana whispered, “I’m sorry – I know you've got so much to think about right now. I'll call and we’ll get together tomorrow.”

Andi introduced her best friend to Martha, then explained, “Dana works for Edward Jordan’s firm here in Buccaneer Bay. She’s his paralegal.”

“So nice to meet you. Andi has told me so much about you. I’m going to have to get back to Missouri soon, so I’m depending on you to help my little girl through this.” Martha put her arm around her daughter's shoulders, "Unless I can talk her into moving home."

Dana patted Andi on the arm and said, “That’s what friends are for. And probate and estates are what I do for a living, so I’m glad to help.”

Just then, Cora let out another gasping, theatrical sob. Dana looked at Andi and winked, then moved on to give her condolences to the grieving mother. Andi sent up a prayer of thanks for such a good friend, and turned to the next person in line, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It felt as though her face might break under the strain.

Jennie gave her an awkward hug, then pulled her companion forward. She said, “You remember my husband, Jeff?”

“Yes, of course. Good to see you again, Jeff.” Andi accepted yet another awkward hug and felt the man’s ribs through his cotton dress shirt. No matter how many times she had met them, Jennie insisted on introducing him as her husband. Andi continued, “I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were at our house for dinner just before Christmas.”

He nodded and his eyes darted over the faces that surrounded them. His eyes brightened and he waved at a familiar face, then quickly excused himself. Jennie glanced over her shoulder at the casket and her brown eyes welled with glistening tears. She pulled a tissue from her purse and disappeared into the crowd.

When Andi and her mother finally got home, they were greeted by peace and calm. Andi escaped to her bedroom to change out of the black dress that made her feel like the Michelin man, and slipped on her favorite flannel pajamas. Martha followed suit.

Andi went downstairs and looked in the refrigerator, filled to overflowing with dishes and plates and pans of every shape and size. All that food. All those calories. She sighed and closed the door. When Martha came downstairs, she shooed her daughter out of the kitchen, so Andi settled into her favorite chair in the living room and looked out the front window.

She fell in love with this house because of that big picture window, and had been so excited when Chad finally agreed to buy it. From her first visit to Maine, she had been drawn to the depths of the Atlantic. The deep blue-green water called to her. She loved the view from their house, perched on top of a hill. She pulled the fleece throw closer around her and watched the beam from the lighthouse sweep across the darkness.

Martha carried in a tray of goodies and flipped the light switch. She set the tray down on the coffee table and dropped onto the sleek gray sofa with a grunt. Andi leaned forward to get a mug of cocoa. Mini-marshmallows bobbed merrily in the foam, and she smiled. She hadn’t had marshmallows in her hot cocoa in years.

Martha blew on her steaming beverage, then said, “That was quite the experience. Looks like you and Chad have a lot of friends here in Buccaneer Bay.”

Andi nodded and sipped her cocoa.

“Things are going to be tough for you now.”

Andi nodded again, her thoughts turning to the last funeral she’d attended…her father’s.

“I went through hell when your daddy died, mostly ‘cause I didn’t want to accept help from anyone.” Martha stared out the window, focused on a spot far in the distance.

“I’m sorry. I should've been there for you,” Andi whispered. Losing her daddy during her freshman year of college had been hard, but she hadn't given much thought to how it affected her mother.

Mama shook her head, “I wouldn’t have let you anyway. Thought I had to be tough. But you don’t have to do it alone."

“I know.”

“Why don't you move back home?”

"I need to stay here," Andi glanced at her mother, “For now, anyway. I need to wrap things up. The dental practice and all. How long do you think you’ll be able to stay?”

Her mother shrugged. “I’ll head back after the funeral.”

The thought of her mother leaving, of being left alone, disturbed Andi more than she wanted to admit. She thought about all the things that would come in the days to follow, the adjustment to being a widow and she ventured, “Do you think you could stay another week? We haven’t seen each other in ages and it would be nice to have the company.”