Linwood Barclay - The Accident

Theo. Master electrician. God bless him.

Staggering, I managed to get myself into a standing position in the tub. My shoes, and all my clothes, were soaked. When the lights went out, I knew the breaker had popped, and that it was safe to step out.

I weaved my way down to the kitchen, backed up to a drawer and managed to get out a knife. If I’d been sober, I might have been able to cut through the tape in a minute or two, but it took me nearly ten. I kept dropping the knife.

Once I was free, I went to Sally’s phone and made two calls. The second was to 911. The first was to Kelly’s cell.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said. “Everything’s okay, but there’s been a little accident at Sally’s, and I’m going to be a while.”

I pulled the tape gun across the top of the large cardboard box, then said to Kelly, “Run your hand along there and make sure it’s stuck good to the flaps.”

She pressed both hands down on the strip of tape, rubbed it all over several times. “That’s really on there,” she said.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” I said.

She looked up at me and nodded. There was sadness in her eyes, but certainty, too. “I think Mom would want us to do this,” she said. “She liked to help people.”

“Yeah,” I said. “She was all about that.” I looked inside the nearly bare closet. “I guess this is the last one. We better get it to the front door. They said the pickup would be between ten and noon.”

I carried the box downstairs and set it down with four others of similar size just inside the front door. I supposed I could have put everything into garbage bags, but that seemed wrong. I wanted everything properly folded. I didn’t want everything all mashed together when it got to its destination.

“Do you think that homeless lady in Darien will get any of these?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe not. But there might be someone here in Milford who will, and if we hadn’t seen that lady the other day, and felt bad for her, then someone in our own town would never get these.”

“Then what about the other lady?”

“Maybe someone from Darien will have seen a person needing help in Milford, or New Haven, or Bridgeport. So when she donates some clothes, it’ll go to that woman.”

I could see that Kelly was not convinced.

Together, we got the five boxes onto the front step. Kelly wiped her brow dramatically when we were done. “Can I ride my bike?” she asked. I’d been pretty protective lately, keeping her close.

“Just along the street here,” I said. “Where I can see you.”

She nodded. She went over to the garage, which was open, and wheeled out her bike.

“Emily’s dad is out of the hospital,” she said.

“I heard that,” I said.

“They really are moving. Emily’s dad has relatives in Ohio, so they’re going to go there. Is Ohio far?”

“Kind of.”

She didn’t look happy about that. “Is Grandma still coming today?”

“She said so. I thought we’d all go out to dinner.”

Fiona was moving, too, but not to Ohio. She was getting a condo in Milford so she could be close to us. Close to Kelly, anyway. She hadn’t gone back into her house since the incident. She’d been staying in a hotel. She had the place on the market and was hiring movers to sort everything out so she wouldn’t have to set foot in it. She’d also started divorce proceedings against Marcus, who, once he was released from the hospital, was going to move in to a nice cell while prosecutors built a case against him in the death of Ann Slocum. So far, no one had rushed to post bond for him.

No charges had been filed against Fiona for attacking Marcus, and weren’t likely to be. Turns out, had there been, she’d have had plenty of money to hire the best lawyer. Marcus had been lying when he said she’d lost money in that huge Ponzi scheme. He just didn’t want Kelly coming to live with them, and figured if I thought Fiona really couldn’t afford to send Kelly to a private school, I’d make sure it didn’t happen.

Kelly put on her helmet, snapped it into place, and rode down to the end of the drive. She hung a left and pedaled madly.

She really was her mother’s daughter. It had been her idea to donate Sheila’s things to one of the agencies in town that provided clothes to the disadvantaged. There were a few things we both wanted to keep. Sheila’s jewelry, such as it was. She wasn’t much for diamonds, although perhaps if I’d bought them for her more often, she might have been. She’d had a red cashmere sweater Kelly said always felt nice against her cheek when she snuggled in with her mother on the couch when they watched TV. Kelly wanted that.

She didn’t want any of the purses.

Kelly was back at school, where things were much better. The papers and newscasts had a lot to do with that. Once the truth, in particular the fact that Sheila was not responsible in the Wilkinson deaths, came out, the other kids started leaving her alone. And Bonnie Wilkinson had dropped her $15 million lawsuit. Not much of a case anymore. I had Kelly seeing a counselor, to help her with all the tragedy that had happened around her, and so far, it seemed to be helping. Although I was still sleeping on her floor every other night.

Charges were dropped against Doug Pinder, who was back working for me. Betsy stayed in her mother’s house, and Doug found a one-bedroom apartment on Golden Hill. They were heading for divorce, but no nasty fights over property were expected.

I didn’t know whether I’d ever be able to make it right with him. I’d accused him of things he hadn’t done. I hadn’t believed him when he’d professed his innocence. I tried to apologize, in some small part, by paying, from that stash of money in the wall, Edwin Campbell to expedite the process of his release.

What made me feel most guilty was Doug’s forgiving attitude. When I attempted to tell him how bad I felt, he waved his hand and said, “Don’t worry about it, Glenny. Next time you’re in a burning basement, I’ll grab a beer first.”

There were still things to be worked out. I was still battling it out with my insurer over the Wilson house. I was arguing that far from being negligent, I was the victim of a crime. Edwin was hopeful.

Business appeared to be picking up. I’d been out this week giving estimates on three jobs, and I was interviewing for someone to work in the office and keep us organized.

Kelly had been up to the corner and was pedaling back. “Watch!” she said. “No hands!” But she was only able to release her hold on the grips for a second. “Wait, I’m going to do it again.”

A cube van was working its way down the street, slowly, the driver checking addresses. I stood and walked down the steps from the porch, waved and caught his attention.

He stopped out front and slid open the back door before coming across the lawn toward me.

“Nice day,” he said. “But who knows, in a couple of weeks we could have snow.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“All these boxes?” he said.

“That’s right,” I said.

“Good to get rid of stuff, isn’t it?” he said cheerfully. “You clear out the closet, wife’s got room for new stuff, am I right?”

We managed all the boxes in one trip. Setting the last one into his truck, shoving it down next to the other bags and boxes of donations, he said, “This one’s kind of heavy.”

“That’s the one with all the purses,” I said.

He slid the door down, said “Thanks” and “So long,” and got back into his truck. It started up and began to pull away from the curb.

And then I heard her. It wasn’t like the other times, where I could imagine what she might say. This time, I could hear her voice.