Stuart Kaminsky - Retribution

“Yes,” he said.

“My name is Fonesca, Lew Fonesca. This is my friend Ames McKinney.”

The woman I assumed was Mrs. Dorsey didn’t move.

“And?”

“I’m looking for your brother,” I said.

He turned his head to one side. Something he had wanted to forget had come back to haunt him. I glanced at Mrs. Dorsey. She hadn’t responded.

“Why?” he asked, turning his head back to us.

“I’ve been hired to find his wife. Her brother wants to talk to her,” I said.

“That poor son of a bitch,” Dorsey said, wiping his hands on his overalls. “I don’t know where Charlie and Vera Lynn are and I don’t think they’d want to see Marvin even if they knew he wanted to. Marvin’s not all there. The whole family… Marvin’s never really been all there. You talked to him. You can see that.”

“Some people spend their money doing strange things like looking for lost sisters,” I said. “Others go out on little boards and risk their lives for thrills. And then there are others who build strange houses.”

“Your point, Mr…”

“Fonesca,” I said. “My point is that people who aren’t hurting other people should be able to do what they want to do as long as they don’t hurt anybody but themselves.”

“I never see Marvin,” he said, stepping toward us. “I don’t go into town much. Peg has run into him a few times. Even looked him up.”

“We had him out here twice since we’ve been here,” the woman under the umbrella said.

“I’m not comfortable with him,” Dorsey said.

“Clark’s not comfortable with anyone really,” Peg Dorsey said with a smile in her voice.

“What can I tell you?” he said with a shrug. “She’s right. I used to be a fireman. For twenty years. I’ve seen enough trouble, enough people. I don’t stay in touch with my family. I, Peg and I, we keep to ourselves.”

“And you build houses,” I said, looking at the oddity behind him.

He turned his head as if he had never before really considered what he had done.

“The white stone one-bedroom came with the land. I added on. I’m not much of a reader. I don’t care much for television, movies, or newspapers and we don’t have a hell of a lot of friends. So I build. I don’t care what it looks like. It’s comfortable inside. Each addition is a new challenge. Maybe when I’m done, if I ever get done, I’ll cover the whole place with stucco or something.”

“No maybe about it,” said Peg Dorsey.

“No maybe,” Clark Dorsey agreed. “For sure;”

’Two feet higher on the metal-sided one, shored with straight I-beams, and the one you’re working on at least a foot lower than what you’re planning,” said Ames.

Dorsey looked at him.

“They’d line up, give you enough headroom,” said Ames. “Brick in the whole place. Double your property value.”

“Ames used to be in the business,” I explained.

“Retired?” asked Peg Dorsey, shading her eyes.

“Business go bad?” asked Clark.

“Business was fine. Partner was as uneven as your roof over there with just as many unmatched parts,” said Ames.

The Dorseys waited for me. There was no more coming.

“Marvin just wants to talk to Vera Lynn,” I said. “It’s all he has.”

“You a private detective?” Clark said.

“Just a friend, and I’m not going to charge him more than a few hundred dollars tops, find her or not,” I said, “but Marvin’s not going to give up.”

Dorsey looked at his wife and she looked back at him and nodded.

“Charlie and Vera Lynn don’t want to hear from Marvin,” Dorsey said.

“Why?”

“Because of what happened,” Dorsey explained. “You know what happened in Arcadia?”

“You mean the girl who fell out of the window,” I said. “Sarah Taylor.”

Dorsey nodded his head and said, “I’ve got to go inside for a minute. Either of you want water?”

“I’d like that,” Ames said.

Dorsey disappeared past his wife and through a door into the white stone section of the puzzle house.

“Clark doesn’t like to talk about it,” Peg Dorsey said, looking at the door her husband had closed behind him. “He’s leaving me to do the talking.”

I watched her play with her sunglasses, put them back on, and look in our direction.

“The girl who went out that window, Sarah,” she said. “She was a very pretty girl, but a jumpy thing, can’t-sit-still type. She got worse, started acting crazy, one day dancing in the street and singing, the next day sitting on the bench near city hall for hours not talking. Sarah was a pretty girl and she was wrong about most things but she was right about one. Charlie had been engaged to Vera Lynn, or as close to engaged as you can be from the time you’re both fourteen. They were comfortable together, Charlie and Vera Lynn. Charlie had no trouble with Vera Lynn’s brother Marvin who was, let’s put this kindly, not fully together from the time he was born.”

She paused, bit her lower lip, and went on.

“What made things worse was that Marvin was Sarah Taylor’s puppy dog. He has no guile, that Marvin. He adored Sarah, would follow her around, sit with her on that bench, even dance with her in the street. Arcadia wasn’t filled with good-looking, smart men with a future. I was lucky. Sarah wasn’t. Sarah started to spread the word that she and Charlie had a thing together and that he was dropping Vera Lynn. Some people even believed it. They just saw that pretty girl on the outside and not the one inside. It doesn’t matter. If the town is small enough, people want to have a good box of rumors to pass around, especially one involving the young police chief even if the rumor comes from someone like Sarah.

“Well, to make it short, no one really knows what happened in that room that day, the day Sarah went out that window and died. Charlie was there. Vera Lynn was there. They said she fell when it first happened. Then later, next day, Vera Lynn said Sarah jumped. More rumors started. You can’t imagine. An old woman named Esther Yoderman who could barely see said she was looking up when Sarah came through the glass. Esther claimed Vera Lynn pushed her. Then she changed her mind the next day and said Charlie threw her out the window. Charlie and Vera Lynn just said it had been an accident.”

“But…?” I prompted.

Peg Dorsey shrugged.

“The Dorseys have a temper,” she said with a shrug. “They hold it in like my Clark, stay away from people when they can, but everyone knew about Charlie’s temper. And since he and Vera Lynn wouldn’t say much…”

“People drew conclusions,” I said.

“Coroner’s hearing declared it accidental,” she said. “Charlie let his deputy do the investigation since Charlie was a witness for most and a suspect for others. Charlie’s deputy was Earl Morgantine, two notches higher on the evolution pool than poor Marvin. Marvin accused Charlie of killing Sarah. Vera Lynn tried to talk to the boy but Marvin ran away, hid in the pastures for days. People could hear him crying and wailing. There was no evidence. It was ruled an accident. Charlie and Vera Lynn packed up. Charlie quit his job. They drove off before Marvin could come out of the woods. That’s about it.”

“What do you think happened?” I asked.

“Something different each time I think about it,” she said, “but getting right down to it, I don’t think Charlie or Vera Lynn killed Sarah. And I’ll say it right out. I don’t care anymore. I just care about what it did to Clark. I’m sorry but that’s how I feel.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Ames said.

“I suppose,” she sighed, shifting in her chair and looking back at the door again. “Clark and I hung on for more than ten years and you would have sworn it had been forgotten, but things like that never are in a small town. So, as soon as he could, Clark retired and here we are.”