Murder by Trust
The continuation of Tabhairt Isteach Do
Chapter Ten
(all the same disclaimers apply, don't own them, just like playing in the same cove...)
Written by Kats, © April 11th 2006
(In memory of all those who have passed on before and wait)
Donna Mayberry Fletcher sat on a bar stool at the island in the center of her kitchen in their apartment, holding a wet cloth to her pounding head. She knew that she wasn't allowed to beat her husband, or her child, but that didn't make what they put her through any easier. Renting was good, it saved on the taxes and if there was a problem they could call a landlord who put them on the bottom of the list. Not only did the kitchen sink develop a clog every other day, today it was leaking. Not the lower drain area but where the faucet was - huge arcs of water that soaked her to the bone when she went to get her water for tea. She had called and informed the landlord two days ago. It still wasn't fixed and now the only way to prevent it from running all the time was to climb under the sink and turn it off at the main. Now that too was leaking.
She didn't exactly scream at the landlord or threaten him, but he called the police on the "crazy lady in 204." Of course the landlord made it seem like she called about petty things, but when they came in and stepped in two inches of water and one turned on the faucet, everyone got drenched and she stood there and lost it. Of course the drain decided to back up just then, spewing a glop of something over the officer while the landlord went on about her saying things were wrong, and nothing was wrong except she was a crazy lady and waving his arms around like a chicken in front of her face.
Grady had chosen that moment to come home and heard the landlord, and not seeing the police there said, "Be careful, the last guy that got on her nerves ended up dead in a pile of frozen mackerel."
"It was cod," she snapped before she realized that the police had their hands on their guns. It took half an hour and a few calls to get things straightened out. The police called a plumber who took another hour to get things fixed. The landlord just wanted him to turn the water off and forget it. Donna sat in her kitchen with the wet cloth to her forehead knowing her day by the noon mail was just going to get better.
11 year old Frank Fletcher sat on the edge of his bed peering down at the cards spread over his bedcovers. He cracked open the cover of the book that was in his right hand and read a few paragraphs before turning over another card. His brow furrowed. It wasn't what he expected. He was so absorbed in what he was doing he failed to hear the knock on his bedroom door, and didn't react until his door was swinging open. Hastily he swept the cards together and shoved them into the book, and pushed the book under his pillow and leaned on it.
"Frank? What are you doing?"
"Uh, nothing Dad. Just thinking."
Grady Fletcher looked at his son. He could always tell when something was troubling him, or when he wasn't telling the truth. "It's too nice of a day to be lying in a stuffy room. Isn't there a window garden that needs to be weeded, or a garage that has to be swept out?" asked Grady, gently testing his son.
"Did that this morning Dad, and I took out the garbage, and folded the laundry for Mom. She seemed like she was having a bad day," said Frank as he brushed back the curly sandy blond bangs from his forehead.
Grady sighed. "Yes, I know. And I know we didn't ask you to do that, so the question is, why? Either you wanted to avoid someone or get some free time to do…something else besides studying."
As Frank shifted on the bed to sit up a bit, Grady saw the corner of the card and raising his eyebrow, leaned forward and picked the card up. For a moment Grady had thought the worst - that Frank, learning to be an adolescent, had found his way into an unseemly shop and purchased things that would embarrass his mother.
"It's not what you think, Dad!" said Frank. "I'm not into the worship thing with them like the other kids, I just wanted to… to, well, know and understand them."
Grady ran his hand through his thinning hair. He had taken in a breath and tried very hard to be in control when he let it out.
"Frank. Your mother and I have talked to you before about this stuff. It isn't safe, and there are other things that we would rather you were working on, like your English report for next term."
"I know, Dad. I just haven't figured out what to write for it, and I'm not - using the cards, I am just reading about them. There is a whole world of things that people never talk about and I want to know the stuff. I don't want to be afraid of what I don't know," said his son in a pleading tone. English was his least favorite subject. He hated it, and the teacher who wrote those long notes to his parents asking why he couldn't understand simple sentence structure.
"Frank. It's not just that - these things that you have. These Tarot cards. They are like a key through a doorway, and when people get involved with them, they get lost in them as well. They wrap their whole lives up in believing something that could be random chance, or something darker. And the cards lead to the board, and that - well. The boards are – an open invitation to something very dark."
"I know Dad. I have listened. I want to learn though. I want to understand about all of this."
"Why?" asked Grady with honest concern.
"Because, well. I have a friend who had a reading done. And she kept a list of everything the person said, and it came true. But I was reading in the book, the meaning of the cards that were laid down, and what she had didn't match up with what the fortune teller said would happen. She was told she would suffer a great loss twice. A week later her house was robbed, and they don't know how it happened, but whoever did it had a key to get in, and they were thinking it was her boyfriend, and she had to give him up. And her parents blamed her for the robbery. But the cards she had – don't say that at all."
"Ah, well, there is another point, that they are used by unscrupulous people and not by young gentlemen. Your mother and I hope that you will decide to undertake an interest in a productive career," said Grady letting the air from his lungs out slowly.
"Dad, not everyone can be an accountant or an event planner…" Frank said seriously. "I want to learn things, but not like, well, school stuff. There are other things out there that people have forgotten. That's the stuff that interests me."
"You sound like your Aunt Jess," smiled Grady. He saw the dismissive look on his son's face. Being compared to an elderly 75 year old aunt was probably not a high point in his life. When Frank was younger they would take trips to see Jessica all the time, but once he started school, it became harder. Grady did make the trips to see her once a month, to do some repairs on the house, and they spoke on the phone daily, just a call in the morning to see if everything was okay. Frank wasn't always able to go up – his schooling was paramount, and for a while his grades had slipped so badly that for a few terms he had no life except to study with tutors to make it through school. Summer school and intensive work with tutors for the last 5 years had taken away any chance of going up to Cabot Cove for a vacation for him. The tutors had said the same thing. He was a bright boy, but what the teachers were teaching didn't interest him. Grady realized that Frank had not seen his Aunt Jess since he was about 8, and even then it was to hide shyly behind Donna the whole time. He had found out that she had been a school teacher, and from there, well, he just didn't want to have anything to do with her except being polite.
Frank looked up. He heard the sound of the mail box being opened and closed and his mother opening the door. Grady could see his son almost cringe. He knew his parents had been on the phone discussing his grades, and he had really tried to bring them up. The principal had been non-committal about if he would have to start summer school on Monday. He understood when his father had said to enjoy the day outside; it might be his only chance of having any vacation at all. He closed his eyes as he heard his mother coming up the steps. The phone rang, and she answered it. Both Grady and Frank were looking at the door when she came in. She held an opened envelope in her hand, and a note pad in the other. They could see where her hair was wet from the cloth and her eyes were red rimmed from crying before. She gave a sniff then said,
"Mr. Danvers called. Mr. Peterson caught chicken pox from his son, and can't finalize the Bishop account. He wanted to know if you would be able to, and I told him you would call him shortly…"
Frank looked at his father. He had overheard his parents talking about that account. Grady had been the primary accountant on it, but because of summer school, and other things, wasn't able to do the required traveling that came with it. They had tried and it didn't work. Frank had promptly given the tutor such a hard time he had called them after a week, and the sitter had refused to deal with his antics a day more. Grady had told them it was more important for the customer to be happy, and put Peterson on the travel end of it to finish the deal they had been working on. Their son was small and his wife didn't mind staying at the hotels with her son during it. Most of them were resorts. It had been ages since Donna had a vacation. Dealing with Frank had been her primary concern.
"I could stay here by myself, or you could get someone to stay with me while I go to summer school," said Frank a bit too eagerly.
Donna handed the envelope to Grady and for a moment he looked at the contents. He gave a sigh, looked at Donna, and then standing up he went out of the room. He closed the door and they could hear him on the phone speaking to someone. It was a few moments before he came back in. He sat down on the bed and looked at his son.
"I've called Mr. Danvers, and his secretary has set up the flights for us… Frank, we wanted to wait until we got the report card to tell you this, but you managed to pass this year, except for one course, English. Your principal has agreed to the suggestion that your mother and I had for him. We both feel that you being here over the summer with your friends hanging around are distracting you. The account has to be managed, and your mother needs a break. We decided to send you to stay this summer with a relative who will help tutor you until you're able to complete the work required to not only pass, but to have an acceptable grade for next year as well. This slacking off has gone on far too long."
"Fine. Send me off. They can't make me study any more than the rest of the others," he said sullenly.
Donna looked at Grady. Frank was right. The last time that Grady and she had to have someone take care of Frank due to the job taking them both away, according to her parents, had been close to nightmarish for everyone concerned. Frank had spent the first day in a tree refusing to come down. Her father, Franklin Mayberry's answer was to leave him up there - but her mother Maisie Mayberry had been disinclined to do that and called the fire company. By then the whole town had turned out to see what had happened. Frank had refused to eat anything unless it began with a Q. The following day he wouldn't eat anything at all. He refused to do any work for the tutor, and didn't speak for 3 days. Maisie had discovered he had packed candy in his bag, and was living off of that. Once the candy was taken away, Frank ran away to be found at the bus station by the authorities. After that he became sullen. It wasn't until their return that Donna's temper took over and he managed to squeak by with the lowest grades that the tutor had ever seen.
Grady saw Frank's arrogant smirk. He knew that given the chance, Frank would do things to make life as difficult as possible for whoever was taking care of him. Donna had questioned if it was wise to send such a hyperactive, high strung child to Grady's elderly aunt, and the answer was, "Do we have any other choice? If he gets out of line, Mort will lock him up for a while."
"Grady, I'm serious!"
She saw Grady's expression didn't change. So am I."
Frank sat up and gathered all of the cards and the book and pushed them into the carrying case. "Fine. So, when do I leave for Grandma and Grandpa's? What did you do to get them to take me back?"
Donna breathed in and let it out slowly. "Your Grandparents aren't the ones who will be taking care of you for the summer. You will be staying at your Aunt Jessica's."
"NO WAY! There is NO FRIGGEN WAY that I am spending the ENTIRE SUMMER with a SMELLY OLD LADY!" he yelled waving his arms in the air to emphasize his point. "No No No No No. You can't make me go, and I won't go."
"Well you should have thought about that before you skipped 40 of your English classes!" said Donna, exasperated. "And you should have thought about it before you alienated every single tutor in 50 miles. Honestly! I don't know why you think it's cool to be so---"
"Stupid? Yeah, that's me, your stupid son."
"We have never called you that, Frank," said Grady gently. "You're a brilliant child. Sometimes things just don't work correctly"
"And I was going to say arrogant!" said Donna. She took a breath. "Your flight leaves this evening. I have everything all packed for you and your father and I will be taking you to the airport and checking you in. I want you to understand something, Frank Fletcher. It is not the same as getting on a bus to go to the zoo. The airlines do not tolerate any out bursts, any high jinks, or any disruptive behavior. They don't care that you are 11 years old. They take the welfare of everyone on board and the security of the airline above all. They will put you in prison with out a trial and you won't get out until you're a grandfather. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR YOUNG MAN?"
Frank swallowed, and then nodded. His mother was just working up to a second full head of steam, and while he knew arguing the point would bring no joy, part of his mind was sorting through the things that needed to be done before he was shipped off. The more time that he spent arguing, the less time he had to deal with things.
"FINE," he said standing up and dragging his pack across the room. He began reaching for his electronic game system when his mother said, "No. That and your computer stay behind. As well as your cell phone. You will be out of range and Aunt Jess will not be paying for your long distance internet access. The library in Cabot Cove has a computer that you're allowed to go to with supervision."
"Aw Mum!"
"No 'Aw Mum' me! I know what happened the last time you went to the library alone!"
Frank scowled. Yeah, she would remember that. On the pretext of going to study for a report, he went to the library and instead of using the ladder or calling for assistance he just climbed up the shelves to get a book that to this day he wouldn't tell his parents what the title was. The shelves of books came down doing untold damage to several hundred books. Frank escaped with just a twisted ankle, but he was not allowed in the library again. He put his pack on the floor with a thump. Something wasn't right. He turned and looked at his parents. "Hang on. You already had me packed? You knew I was going even before you got my report card, or the call from Dad's boss, and you have my tickets. How long have you known about this?"
Grady's voice said softly from where he still sat, "A month, since our last visit with your principal… It was the only way that we could convince him to not suspend you from school."
Frank tilted his head. "How would shipping me off to an old aunt's house for the summer prevent that?"
Donna's sudden giggle couldn't be stopped. Frank looked between his father and his mother, very confused. His father was sitting there looking a bit worried now, as his mother was leaning against the wall gasping for breath.
"This is too weird…" Frank said.
His mother pulled a small purse-like thing out of her pocket that had long strings on each side. Frank had seen his dad wear one like it when he traveled. She tossed it on the bed. She wore a happier expression on her face than when she first entered the room. "In there are some credit cards. They have a pre-set limit, and if you use them wisely, they will last the entire summer. If you don't, you're s.o.l. It also contains your passport for ID purposes."
"Where would I be going that I need a passport? I have my student ID…"
Donna and Grady just shrugged. His mother was still smiling. "You won't know until you get there…" said Grady. He eyed Donna with concern. Taking her by the elbow he led her out of the room and closed the door between them and their son.
They gave Frank a good two hours to absorb the fact that his summer plans had radically changed. Frank used the time to get online and list his favorite web hang outs on a web page, then he checked his email. There were two that demanded his attention. The first he recognized from his friend Dot by his cool gold avatar of a triangle with an hourglass inside of it. He clicked open the first and read the information. Dot, for all that Frank knew, or cared, was a kid his age who had the same interests as Frank did, and much better grades in school. Dot lived in LA, and had to fight his 3 brothers for the use of the computer every day. Frank rather liked Dot, but he was smart enough not to tell even those he felt were friends anything. Dot's email hinted that the group had a lot of problems that were going to come to light very soon. He couldn't tell Frank any more and cautioned him to remain silent about what he had been told. Frank knew that in order to get more inside track information, he had to curb his interest in what Dot was talking about.
His parents just didn't understand the internet. His mom used it to look up recipes. His dad used the email to contact people and do some research on investment houses, but that was it. Frank had found a whole – way of dealing with things. There were gamers. People who took factual or fictional information and made a game of solving the clues in it. The latest game everyone seemed to be playing was "Where is Ben Stove?" At first Frank thought it to be real events, and it was a bitter disappointment to discover that it was some guy who was pitching the idea for either a game market, or a movie. He wanted – something really worth doing. Then his friend Dot had informed him of another group, one that searched for answers in real life events. They had a case file, and people who were in the area did the research and it wasn't a game, it was real. Real life, real people that he could go on line and look up where they lived, and where things happened and it was like standing right next to where it all went down.
Frank was a bystander in all of it. His nickname on the boards was Quillgoi. He felt himself to be the sensible one in everything, urging caution to the others in what they said or did. He was his usual vocal self about things, but he didn't get into it like the other ones did. Some of them would travel to where the events had taken place, some of the others would actually make contact with the people involved in secret and then post what had been said and done. In Frank's eyes, that was one of the most stupid things they could do.
The last case they had been working was regarding a girl older than he who had been found at the road side early one morning near her home in Orange County. She had been beaten so badly that the police refused to let her parents see her to identify her body. While the case took place in another state, and was several months old, nothing had been discovered regarding who had done it. The last person to see her alive was the clerk at the convenience store. That was at 4 am when she left after trying to buy cigarettes. The time line they had made showed she was late coming in to her home, about 11:30 pm, she went out again to have a fight with her boyfriend in the driveway at 1:20 am, and she arrived at the convenience store at 2 am to try to buy the cigarettes. Her purse and cell phone had been found on her bed the next morning by her parents.
The moderator of the group board had made contact with the boyfriend on a chat site. After that it became a tumble of information as more of the girl's friends were investigated by the group. Frank held fast in his beliefs of who could have been capable of doing something so wrong. Everyone was in to this case for different reasons. Most of them wanted a chunk of the reward money. Some wanted to earn their living by doing this. Franks motivation, as he kept telling them, was just that her parents could sleep at night when it was all done. No one understood that. There was no material gain from it.
His second email was from the moderator of the group. It called him out on his position, and it blasted him for making a comparison that what they were doing - which in Frank's eyes was blatant harassment of the young woman's boyfriend - to how the moderator would have felt if it was done to him. Frank took a breath and typed in. "I am going to have to think about where I stand in all of this. You will get my answer soon enough." Frank set his Email on auto response. "Hey, Have a summer of tutors to deal with, leave a message and if I can and I am not grounded for the rest of my puberty I will get back to you."
He disconnected from the internet then, and unplugged his lap top. It would be so simple just to slip it in the bag… but he knew that it would show up on the x rays, and it wasn't safe to be kept in the check in bag. He lifted it. 15 pounds. It wasn't worth dragging it to wherever. His cell phone was different. He won that at school, a bean counting contest. It was small, light weight, and … the more he thought about it, being wherever his great aunt lived, was probably out of range. He put it in its case and then covered both the computer and the cell phone with a pillow sham on the bed. He noticed his father had placed the card he had picked up on the dresser. Pausing he looked at the cardboard box that the cards were in and the book. His parents didn't say anything about not taking the cards, and they didn't know about the rune set ether.
Not knowing what he was going to do for the whole summer, he grabbed what he thought would be necessities. His sketch pad, his pen box now stuffed with the tarot cards and the rune set. His parents wouldn't object to him taking a few books to read, the tarot book and the rune book fit nicely within the other two that he had picked up at the shop. Looking around the room, he thought to himself. If something happened to the house, what would he want to take from it the most? His eyes fell on the photo of his mom and dad and him that was taken at the last Christmas party. While his face showed a far away sad look, his mom and dad were looking at him as their pride and joy. Tucked behind it were two other photos. One was one of the few photos of his dad's parents, and the other was of his mom's parents. He knew his that his dad's parents died in an auto accident when he was young. Suddenly feeling very frightened he pushed the pictures into the pouch that held his passport and the credit cards and put it around his neck. The weight of it comforted him. He went down the steps dragging his book bag behind him. Donna peaked inside of it, and saw just books and his pencil case.
"Mum … I'm sorry for being such a pain, and for being a jerk around grandma and grandpa," he said softly. "Do I have to go?" he said at last.
Donna sat down on the sofa and held her hand out to Frank to come and sit beside her. "Your father and I think it would be best if you did spend some time with Aunt Jessica. She is a very special person to your father and me, and loves you just as much as if you were her own grandson. She's getting older, and we don't know how much longer we will have her. It's important that you get to know her while you can… I realize it's not the summer you were expecting. In my own way, I would like to trade places with you."
"Why?" he asked, curious.
She only gave him a smile.