Firefly Beach (24 page)

The redheaded detective smiled playfully at Beth with a nod and an expression that said
he’s having a bad day.

Beth pursed her lips and suppressed a grin.

“Kenny, would you mind going to the Bennings’ house after we finish up here? I really need to talk to them, and I would rather it be in person.”

Kenny sighed.

Beth sensed he was exhausted. “Please?”

“No problem,” he said with a slight edge in his voice.

The detectives completed the necessary reports and Beth and Kenny led them to the
Look Out For Loons
sign.

“It’s down there, at about a twenty degree angle from where we stand,” Kenny said, gesturing to the left. “A large old tree in a sea of saplings. It will be obvious when you get down there. The site is mostly uncovered now.”

“Why didn’t you get police assistance in the first place?” the older detective asked.

“We were looking for a needle in a haystack we were not even sure existed. The lady just had a hunch,” he said, shrugging. “I didn’t want to let her down. We were not positive we would find anything at all.”

“Okay. We’ll take it from here.” He turned to his assistant. “Is this Dedham or Bucksport?”

The young detective looked up the road. “Uh…I believe it’s Bucksport.”

“Figure out who the hell has jurisdiction and get them on the radio.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * * *

Beth and Kenny arrived at the Bennings a little after 3:30 p.m. Linda Benning opened the door. She was surprised to see Beth standing on the porch with a gentleman.

“Linda, this is Kenny McLeary. Kenny, Linda Benning.”

They shook hands and Linda invited them in. Kenny followed Beth and Linda to the sitting room.

Wyatt peeked his head in from the hallway. “Back so soon?” he said. “Do you have news for us?”

Beth and Kenny exchanged a somber glance. Linda stumbled as she made her way to a chair in the far corner of the room.

“What is it, Beth?” Linda asked cautiously.

Beth hesitated before she said, “We’ve found the remains of a car wreck.”

“Oh my God,” Linda shouted, filling in a dozen blanks in her mind in an instant.

“Wait,” Beth said. “Please hear me out. We don’t even know if it is Katherine yet. It’s hard to explain. I…I…I just had a…a feeling. And, well, we found a very old accident. But it was on highway 46, just south of Dedham. I don’t know what Katherine would have been doing there.”

“Dedham?” Linda exclaimed.

“Yes, is that—”

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Linda said softly, shaking her head.

“What is it?”

“It’s my fault. It’s
my
fault,” she said slowly, visibly stunned. “My grandparents lived in Dedham. We used to visit when I was a child. I grew up in Connecticut, but I cherished summers in Maine with my grandparents – fishing with Grandpa, making blueberry jam with Gran. I told Katherine that was why I moved to Maine after I finished college. Dedham is where I fell in love with Maine, I told her. She must have wanted to visit. What else could it be?”

“Uh…that must be it,” Beth responded absentmindedly, oblivious to Linda’s anguish and misplaced guilt. Beth was too intrigued by the details to be cognizant of the woman’s need for reassurance. The pieces started to fall into place. Katherine
did
take Highway 46 intentionally Sunday afternoon, maybe even around sunset. Twilight would have made the road harder to negotiate, Beth reasoned. It may have been an unpaved road at that time. Finally, she had the fragments of a theory that made some sense.

Linda started to cry.

“You can’t blame yourself,” Kenny said. “And nothing is official yet. They will need to do some investigating and examine dental records.”

Wyatt remained steady. “Of course. I’ll pull my files,” he said calmly.

“It’s my fault,” Linda continued to say. “I can’t bear to imagine it. Poor Katherine. Poor little Susie. They must have been so scared. I hope they died on impact and didn’t languish there in—”

“Linda,” Beth interrupted. “Susan wasn’t in the car.”

Linda looked up, completely bewildered.

“Katherine didn’t take her along.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mrs. Sharpe was supposed to be watching her.”

“What?” she yelled. “Where the hell is she then?”

Beth took a deep breath and sighed. “Mrs. Sharpe arranged a private adoption.” She could not believe that she had used Eleanor’s euphemism for selling a baby.

“Private adoption?” Wyatt asked.

Linda looked overwhelmed and confused.

“She sold Susan to a wealthy couple from New York,” Beth blurted out rapidly, as if the words would hurt less if they all came out at once.

“What? We were her godparents,” Wyatt said indignantly.

“I know. I had a rather detailed conversation with Mrs. Sharpe reminding her of that fact. At first she claimed it was something about you and her not getting along. Then it seemed like she was just doing it for the money.”

Wyatt rose from his chair. “I’m going to call the police.”

“Wait,” Beth pleaded. “I thought about that. First of all, it is her word against mine at this point. Everyone believed Katherine and Susan left together.”

“But now you have a crash site, potential evidence.”

Kenny interjected, “A baby’s bones would have decayed sooner than Katherine’s.”

Linda grimaced.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“She was one-and-a-half,” Wyatt contested.

Kenny shrugged. “I’m not sure that makes much of a difference.”

“Excuse me, forensics team,” Beth said, scowling. “Can I explain my objections?”

Linda stared at her. Wyatt crossed his arms. Kenny raised one eyebrow.

“Susan grew up with two people whom she believed were her mom and dad. Does she now know her true history? I don’t know. But I don’t think it is fair for her learn about it from a team of police officers and German Shepherds arriving at her door one random afternoon in summer.”

Wyatt sighed. “I doubt they’d bring out the dogs, but I kind of see your point.”

“I would like to try to look for her,” Beth said, realizing that she had almost nothing to go by. Nevertheless, she wanted to bring some comfort to Linda as well as stall Wyatt’s pursuit of justice. “Look how well I did tracking you down.”

Linda capitulated. “All right. But don’t ask me not to strangle that old woman in her sleep.”

“You may not have to. By the looks of her, she could go any day.”

“She should be so lucky.” Linda sneered.

“Anyway,” Beth said, trying to change the subject. “The police will be asking you for information…” Her voice trailed off.

“Don’t worry,” Wyatt said. “We’ll hold off discussing Susan for now. But if you don’t find her, I
will
go to the police. That woman be damned. I don’t care how old she is. She took money for my goddaughter. She will pay for that crime.”

“Perhaps we ought to ask Susan what she thinks is best when we find her,” Beth said.

Wyatt seemed unmoved, but he relented.

Before they left, Linda hugged Beth for a long time. They exchanged a somber goodbye. Beth and Kenny were halfway down the walkway when Linda called after them.

“Beth.”

Beth turned. “Yes?”

“How did you know?”

Beth looked at Kenny briefly. She pursed her lips and answered. “I had a dream.”

Linda nodded her head. She seemed to find that answer to her satisfaction. Perhaps all the years of waiting made her open to anything. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Beth nodded. Then she and Kenny climbed into his car and drove away.

* * * *

As they turned the corner, Beth cried, “Wait. Would you mind if we visited Mrs. Sharpe?”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Why do you want to even acknowledge that wretched woman?”

“I want to ask her some questions. I want to know what time Katherine left the house.”

“You think she’s going to remember that after all these years?”

“She ought to remember if the young lady left around six in the morning or closer to noon, shouldn’t she?”

“I suppose. But how does that help us?”

Beth paused for a moment.
Us.
Kenny had progressed from a reluctant assistant to an active partner in her investigation. She smiled. “The tackle shop was open from one to five on Sundays, and it is south of the accident site. So Katherine must have been on her way home…theoretically. I just want to understand why she was on that road in the
afternoon.
According to Abigail, no one saw Katherine in Virginia Point after she left. Where did she spend the day if she didn’t spend it with her father?”

“How do you know she
didn’t
spend it with her father? The old man lives a very reclusive life. Perhaps they spent a day at his house or on his sailboat. It is possible to take a walk in Virginia Point and not be noticed by the gossip squad, you know.” He said this with an air of one who was well acquainted with that fact, and had done so many times.

Beth frowned. “I suppose you are right. But I want to see Mrs. Sharpe anyway. Do you mind?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice.

He shook his head and resigned. “I’m in,” he said reluctantly.

* * * *

They stood on Eleanor Sharpe’s porch for several minutes waiting for someone to answer the door.

Beth whispered to Kenny. “She was hardly fit to travel. There has to be someone in—”

Rebecca opened the door, her clothing rumpled and her face red and swollen.

“I need to speak to Mrs. Sharpe,” Beth said with an air of authority.

“You can’t,” Rebecca replied, outraged.

“It will only take—”

“She’s dead.”

“What?”

“You,” she said slowly. “
You
killed her. I don’t know what you said to her yesterday, but she was all in a fit after you left. She died in her sleep. You killed her!”

“I’m truly sorry for your loss, but I did not kill Mrs. Sharpe.”

Kenny tugged at Beth’s elbow.

Beth continued. “Was it her heart?”

Rebecca grumbled. “The doctors don’t know yet. You had no business disturbing an eighty-one-year-old, sick woman in her bed.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Kenny tugged at Beth a little more forcefully. “Let’s go,” he whispered harshly in her ear. Then he pulled her back down the walk.

“Goodbye, ma’am,” he said, nodding to Rebecca.

“Bitch!” the young woman cried.

Kenny had to force Beth into the car.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Do you want to be part of another police investigation today?”

“Of course not.”

“That woman is standing on the doorstep saying you killed the old lady. How do you think that sounds, huh? They don’t know how she died, and you were one of the last persons to see her alive. Let’s get out of here,
now,
before we end up spending the night in jail.”

“Oh. I see your point.”

“Damn straight,” Kenny mumbled under his breath as he turned onto the main road.

Beth looked down, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this.”

Kenny was silent for a moment. “It’s all right,” he said. “Do you think she died of guilt?”

“Either that or her body decided to hold out long enough to release its secret…She didn’t have to tell me, you know.”

“I suppose.”

“Maybe she simply didn’t want to take it to the grave.”

“Perhaps. Let’s just hope the doctor issues her a death certificate that implicates
natural
causes.”

“Fair enough,” Beth said, chuckling. “But I have nothing to hide.”

“Except the fate of Susan Thompson.”

Beth sighed and looked out the window.

“Why are you so committed to keeping this a secret? You certainly are not trying to protect Mrs. Sharpe or her son, I hope.”

“No,” Beth said, thinking it should be obvious. “I’m trying to protect Susan.”

“How do you know she wants to be protected?”

“I don’t. It’s just a feeling.”

* * * *

They arrived home around 6:45 p.m. Beth was emotionally exhausted, more so than she could remember being in a long time. She decided to take a long, deserved bath. Quietly, as if someone could see her, she sneaked the ducks into the bathroom and washed them thoroughly in the sink. She carefully painted new white and black eyes on their blank faces. When they dried, she dropped them into the tub. Although dingy and almost colorless, they stared up at her with that comforting, placid expression common in the rubber duck population.

After her bath, she put the letters and ducks in a drawer with the diary. She took two steps before she stopped, returned to the drawer, and pulled out the last letter. She removed the picture and stared at it for a long time. Then she took the photo downstairs and set it on the coffee table. After rummaging through a box in the garage, she returned with a picture frame that used to hold a photo of Bill and her. She carefully positioned the photo of Katherine and Susan. It looked good inside the old frame. Smiling warmly, she crossed to the mantel and placed it by her mother’s picture.

Beth found herself suddenly energized, and she went to the studio to study the unfinished portrait of the red-haired girl. It only needed a few more color accents and it would be perfect. She picked up the stunning comb created by Kenny. It looked lovely in her painting. Beth put on her apron, mixed some colors, and began the process of completing the portrait.

She finished sometime shortly after nine o’clock as the twilight slipped away. When she stepped back to examine her final product, she noticed the firefly floating discreetly in the middle of the room. It gave her a start.

“Would you please stop that?” she exclaimed. And with the voice of a woman depleted, she said, “It has been a long,
long
day, Katherine.” She paused, surprised by her own words. Then she stiffened and backed up slowly toward the corner of the room. The light creature seemed to retreat as if sensing Beth’s fear. Beth took a deep breath and stared for a long time before speaking again.

“Are you Katherine?” she whispered, barely able to make a sound. Her mind stumbled over the possibility that might have already occurred to any other person in her situation, if such a situation even existed. She stood frozen in a state of shock, as if talking to some supernatural ball of light or a character from a Greek myth might be completely normal, while conversing with a ghost was entirely preposterous.