Secrets Can Be Deadly Page 8

  Mason knew his mother was born on June 20, 1938, but didn’t know until now that she was born at 11:38 PM.

  Next, a marriage license. Mason’s parents were married October 20, 1956. A judge had signed the license. This was the first time he realized his mother had been pregnant when his parents married. Mason thought back to the talks his dad had given him growing up—be careful, always use protection, make wise decisions. Those talks had a new meaning now.

  Also included were copies of birth certificates for Mason, his sister, and his dad.

  Last was a four-generation family tree. A note attached. This information was in a file in the genealogy room. I can’t guarantee its accuracy but thought it might be helpful. Jean

  At the bottom of the page was handwriting. Mason had to squint to read it. I hope this helps you, Officer Pierce. It wasn’t Jean’s handwriting.

  25 Friday, May 25, 1979 (Sam)

  “You have the phone number for Carlton and Cathy Anderson,” Connie said. “We’ll be staying with them through next Saturday. We’ll be home on Sunday. You can always call the Hendricks if you need anything while we’re gone.”

  Connie was reviewing her list with me while Harold packed the car. “There are leftovers in the fridge and TV dinners in the freezer. Remember to eat healthy while we’re gone. There are apples and bananas on the counter.”

  “Connie, Sam is twenty and quite capable of living alone. We’ve got to get going. I don’t want to be driving in the dark.”

  Connie turned toward Harold, “Yes, dear.”

  Connie walked up to me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and put a ten-dollar bill in my hand. “In case you want to eat out one night,” she whispered in my ear.

  This was the first time Harold and Connie left me alone since I’d moved in. They were off to Florida for a week to visit friends. I knew one day I’d have to find an apartment, be on my own. But today I was enjoying being part of a family.

  The house was quiet. I was exhausted. It seemed everyone in town was stocking up on groceries for the holiday weekend. Luckily, I had the next three days off. I could eat whatever I wanted, watch whatever TV I wanted, listen to any radio station.

  I thought back to the time when Grandfather was in the hospital and I was alone. Those few days and the secrets I uncovered had changed the course of my life. Did Harold and Connie have any secrets? They both seemed so loving and caring. I couldn’t imagine them lying to me. I’d have to search the house to remove any suspicions.

  I started in the kitchen, opening the top cabinet doors, looking on each shelf for anything that seemed out of place. Next, I opened the drawers, then the bottom cabinets. One cabinet held four bottles of wine. I’d never seen Harold or Connie drink. I bet they didn’t even know those bottles were behind the punch bowl.

  It was almost seven o’clock and I was hungry. I heated last night’s casserole, cut a green apple in slices, poured a glass of milk. I turned on the TV just in time to catch The Incredible Hulk.

  It felt wrong walking into Harold and Connie’s bedroom without one of them there. I’d been in this room hundreds of times, but now it suddenly felt cold, unwelcome. I needed to know for sure they weren’t keeping any secrets.

  The two dressers contained nothing out of the ordinary. In the closet, I found a small, round hatbox hidden underneath a stack of sweaters. Inside, a blonde wig. Since living here, I’d never seen Connie wear it. It reminded me of a wig Dolly Parton would wear. I envisioned Harold wearing the wig for a Halloween costume and chuckled. I put the wig on the bed and returned the hatbox to the exact spot underneath the sweaters.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the nightstand drawer. A book on Florida. I grinned. Connie had been so busy reminding me of things she’d forgotten to take this book with her. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. A pamphlet dropped to the floor—Senior Living at Coastal Acres. Stapled to the back cover was a business card with a handwritten note. Look forward to showing you your new home on the 29th. I dropped the book and pamphlet and stared out the window into the darkness. A secret. Harold and Connie were liars.

  My search moved to the living room, guest bedroom, and two bathrooms. Nothing. A tiny attic only contained ductwork.

  It was past eleven, my bedtime, but I wanted to finish searching the house. The last place—the basement. I opened the door, flipped the light switch, walked down the steps. I’d been in the basement a few times with Connie. It was dark and I had a fear of spiders. I pulled the cord on an overhead shop light, filling the room with light. Rows of shelves held canned fruits and vegetables—peaches, tomatoes, green beans, pears, cauliflower. Boxes of Christmas decorations were stacked in a corner. I recognized all the boxes, except one. A shoebox tied with twine that once held women’s stiletto thigh-high black leather boots. I looked for any signs of spiders, then picked up the box and took it upstairs.

  I set the box on the kitchen table and studied how the twine was wrapped around the box, the type of knot used. I untied the knot and lifted the box lid. Inside were photos and cards. One photo of Connie and a woman was dated January of this year. Some of the dates on the photos went back twenty years. The cards were signed Mae and Kenneth. I’d never heard those names. Was Connie hiding more secrets?

  One photo from five years ago bore a sticker on the back—a rural route address in Dysart. Connie visited Dysart quite often and guessed that she had visited these people. I looked at the cards closely. Happy birthday to a wonderful aunt. Once again, I discovered relatives I didn’t know existed.

  I retied the twine and put the box back. I was tired and angry. Why did my family keep so many secrets from me? It occurred to me that I’d lied a lot myself. What a great family trait to be passed down to all the generations, I thought. I stood under the light, surveying the basement one last time. A framed picture hidden behind the boxes caught my eye. It wasn’t a picture, but a large framed canvas with writing on the front. I tugged at the frame with my right hand. It was stuck on something. I got a better grip with both hands, jiggling the frame back and forth until it came loose. I walked over to the light. It was a family tree. This canvas gave me the answers to several of my questions. I took it upstairs, wrote the information in my journal, adding a passage.

  My family is full of people who keep secrets. People who are liars. Another day that started with happiness and ended with hatred. I hated my grandfather. Now I hate Harold and Connie. More people will die.

  26 Friday, February 22, 1980 (Mason)

  Two weeks had gone by without any calls or notes from the mysterious stranger. Mason was hoping whoever it was had decided to end the game.

  He stopped at the grocery store after work. The guys were coming over tonight to watch the Olympics. He needed plenty of beer and chips, plus a few other miscellaneous groceries items.

  “Hi, Ruth,” Mason said as he pulled his cart up to the checkout. Ruth Neel and Sophia were roommates and best friends. Mason and Ruth teased each other often and treated each other like siblings.

  “Hey, Mason. Don’t get too wild tonight watching hockey. I’d hate for someone to call the cops,” Ruth laughed.

  “What are you and Sophia doing tonight? Painting each other’s nails?”

  “Cute.” Ruth smiled. “It’s ladies night at Toppers. Guess Gus figures all the guys in town will stay home to watch the game and he wants business.”

  “You two be careful. I’d hate to be called away from the game to break up a cat fight.”

  Mason paid for the groceries and walked to his car. He opened the trunk, put in his bags and cases of beer. Tucked in the back of the cart was an envelope. He looked around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching him.

  Inside the envelope was a piece of paper. GO TEAM USA. He might have thought this was a random note in a random basket, but the black marker and capital letters were distinct. The note was meant for him. He rewound the trip to the store in his mind for any clues. Nothing.

  “Who’s hungry?” Carl
carried in four Pizza Hut boxes.

  “You ever heard of a thing called knocking?” Jeff said sarcastically.

  “Seriously? Night out with the guys is always open-door policy,” Carl said.

  A knock. “Well at least Todd has manners. His momma taught him well,” Jeff said.

  “Enter at your own risk.” Mason opened the door.

  “Don’t laugh. My mom made brownies in the shape of hockey pucks. She saw a picture in one of her magazines and thought it was cute,” Todd said. “I told her guys don’t do cute. She made me bring them. I ate one on the way over. They’re actually really good.”

  “Your mom cracks me up.” Carl laughed. “I remember the time she made popcorn balls and decorated them to look like baseballs for our little league championship game.”

  “I’d forgotten about those. Thanks for the memories.” Todd rolled his eyes. “Hopefully this time the brownies will bring us better luck than the popcorn balls.”

  “Yeah. We got slaughtered. Twelve to four. It was a sad day,” Jeff said.

  “What’s Sophia up to tonight?” Carl asked Mason.

  “Went to Toppers with Ruth. What’s Katrina doing?”

  “She’s going to Toppers, too. Maybe they’ll bump into each other. Last week I showed Katrina pictures from last summer. She knows what Sophia looks like.”

  “You mean she actually set foot in your apartment?”

  “Yeah, finally. She wanted to know about you guys. I thought the best way was to show her pictures.”

  “No, the best way would have been to have a party and introduce us to her in person,” Todd said.

  “Hey, one step at a time. You just want me to throw a party for free food and beer.”

  Mason interrupted. “Game starts in ten minutes. Grab your food and sit down. Go USA!”

  “I hope they don’t get beat too bad. The Soviets are unbeatable,” Jeff said.

  “Our guys are playing pretty good. I hope they knock the Soviets on their butts!” Carl cheered. “Go Team USA!”

  Mason swung his head around. “What did you just say?”

  “Go Team USA!” Carl chanted, louder than before. In a hushed voice he said, “You okay? You look a little pissed off.”

  “What…no. I was thinking the cheer was different.”

  “Somebody said it that way recently. Can’t remember who, but it stuck.”

  “Game in two!” Jeff shouted.

  “Come on. It’s going to be a great game.” Carl gave Mason a slap on the back, then sat on the couch between Jeff and Todd.

  Mason grabbed a beer, two slices of pizza, and sat in the leather recliner. Where did Carl meet my mystery man? He had to shake the note out of his head and focus on the game.

  27 Monday, June 4, 1979 (Sam)

  At one o’clock in the morning, the shutting of car doors woke me from a restless sleep. Harold and Connie were back. I heard my bedroom door creak. I didn’t want to talk to either one tonight, so pretended to be asleep. At breakfast, I would ask them about their secrets.

  Out the window, I could see Harold taking luggage out of the trunk. I’d been living with Connie and Harold two years, and all this time I’d thought they were different. I was wrong. They kept secrets. They were liars. They needed to be punished.

  My lips curled when I caught a whiff of brewing coffee. Connie was using my special blend that included the white powder I’d taken from Grandfather. My quick decision to stop in Grandfather’s room was coming in handy. I got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.

  “When did you guys get home?” I asked. I knew exactly when they got home, just wanted to see how they’d answer.

  “Early this morning. I’m glad we didn’t wake you,” Connie said. “Thanks for the coffee. That was a special welcome home gift.”

  “How was Florida?” I asked.

  “The weather was incredible. We met a lot of nice folks.” Connie poured a cup of coffee. “Why don’t you have breakfast. When Harold finishes unloading the car we have something to tell you.” She took a sip of coffee and walked outside.

  I wasn’t hungry but decided to have a bowl of Cheerios. I’d finished eating by the time they walked in the house. Harold and Connie sat at the table.

  Connie took a deep breath. “Harold and I have decided to move to Florida. I know it’s a shock to you. We’re getting older and are tired of the cold and snow. We looked at a retirement community on our trip and well…we purchased a home.”

  I lowered my head. Okay, so they told me one of their secrets. I slowly lifted my head, trying to look concerned. “When are you moving?”

  “End of August. The Hendricks’ are buying the house and land. Their son will be home from the army in six months. It’ll be a nice place for him to raise a family. We’re leaving the house fully furnished so there won’t be too much disruption in the next few months. We’ll just have to pack our personal belongings.”

  Harold cleared his throat. “That gives you a couple of months to find a place of your own. There are several apartments in town. It’ll be closer to work.”

  “Yeah. I was thinking it was time to get my own place anyway. It’s been two years and I’m twenty. I should be on my own.” I wanted to sound positive. I didn’t want them to know how I really felt. Betrayed and angry.

  “Okay. Well, if you need help looking for a place, just let us know.”

  “I’ll check with the guys at work.” I got up and went upstairs. They’d been planning this for months. They were deceptive—just like my grandparents. They wouldn’t be around much longer. Their fate was sealed. It was just of matter of how and when they’d die. No one kept secrets from me unless they wanted to pay.

  I stopped at the drugstore to pick up a couple of boxes of dye. I also wanted to check the pharmacy counter to see how easy it would be to get access to certain prescription drugs.

  I was pretending to look at greeting cards when I overheard a conversation the pharmacist was having with an elderly woman. The woman looked to be in her seventies, forty pounds overweight, held a cane in her right hand. The pharmacist was telling the woman the side effects of Oxycontin. I recognized the name. All those years of reading medical books and working in the drugstore had paid off. The drug would be beneficial when it came time to take care of Harold and Connie.

  I walked to the front of the store to pay for my purchase.

  “Whatcha going do with the dye?” asked the checkout girl.

  I wasn’t expecting a question. “Um, my aunt’s going to dye some curtains.”

  “Cool. Always wondered what people did with this stuff. I thought of buying some to make a colorful t‑shirt. Or maybe dye my pillowcases. Not sure if my mom would go for that.”

  “Yeah. That sounds like a great idea.” I was getting annoyed with her chatter. All I wanted to do was buy the dye and leave the store.

  The elderly woman walked out the door just as I finished paying.

  “Excuse me.” I briskly walked up to the elderly woman. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. My grandmother used to take Oxycontin. She died a few years ago and I miss her. I was wondering if you needed help around the house. I work at the grocery store during the day, but I could come over a couple nights a week or on weekends.”

  “That’s a very nice offer. I don’t have the money to pay you.” The woman started to walk away.

  “Oh, no, you don’t need to pay me. Call it community service. You remind me of my grandmother. I thought if I could help you out a little, I wouldn’t miss her so much.”

  The woman adjusted her glasses. “Yes…I remember you from the grocery store. You’ve reached a few items for me off the top shelf. Always been nice to me. My name’s Laverne Sidel. I live at 223 Oak Street. Stop by tomorrow night. Maybe you can help my neighbor, Beatrice, too.”

  “Thank you, Laverne. I’ll see you at five-thirty.”

  Over the next two months, I shaved a little bit off Laverne’s and Beatrice’s Oxycontin pills. I liked Laverne and Beatrice and e
njoyed helping them. I felt bad that I’d disappear from their lives without a goodbye, but that’s what I needed to do.

  28 Saturday, February 23, 1980 (Mason)

  Mason knew Sophia slept in on Saturday mornings. He wanted to call, make sure nothing strange had happened at Toppers last night. By nine, he couldn’t wait any longer.

  On the fifth ring, Sophia answered. “Hello.”

  “Sorry to wake you. I was worried. You okay?”

  “I’m fine. No strange men. Going back to bed. Dinner at seven. Love you.” Click.

  Mason arrived at Sophia’s apartment at quarter to seven.

  “You’re early.” She leaned in and kissed him. “Sorry I was short this morning. Ruth and I had a few too many last night. Luckily, we have a great roommate in Charlotte. She wasn’t drinking because she had an early meeting this morning.”

  “Did you hear about the game?”

  “A bunch of guys came in Toppers. You must have been going crazy. It’s amazing that the US beat the Soviets.”

  “I’ll never forget it,” Mason said. “So, did any strange men try to pick you up last night?”

  “Nobody odd. Just the regulars.”

  “Did you meet a woman named Katrina? Blonde hair? She’s Carl’s mystery girlfriend. Nobody’s met her yet. She was supposed to be at Toppers last night.”

  “There were several blondes. Don’t recall a Katrina.”

  Mason thought that was strange. If Katrina knew what Sophia looked like, why wouldn’t she have said hello?

  “I got another note last night at the grocery store,” Mason said. “The mystery person knew I’d be watching the game.”

  “Ninety percent of the men in town probably watched the game last night,” said Sophia. “Hand me the spatula.”