I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night

Chapter 2

I really disliked rainy weather; it was just such a damper on the soul. And I really did not like this, but these silly words just continued to roll. On a dark and rainy day, the story teller cometh. Only that it wasn't the story I wanted. -Jolly

HBHBHB

It was my parents' penthouse apartment. But they weren't here anymore. Yet I could not help but to see them in every niche and corner. There was my father in the living room enjoying his favorite movies on his personal home theatre. My mother was in the crafts room upstairs, knitting another sweater for me, even though I had dozens of them already. My father in the study on the computer surfing the web. And my mother in the kitchen preparing dinner.

My mother really could not cook. But we all ate her cooking anyway, because of the time and effort she always invested in it. I always said to her 'my mother's the best cook in the world'. That statement rang true somehow. I wondered why?

I walked back into the living room. My wife was on the floor by the shelves sorting through the photo albums. The golden rays of the late afternoon sun came through the window and illuminated her brown hair turning it almost golden. But it was her soft brown eyes that captivated me from the first day I met her. Her zest for life and appetite for adventures matched my own. Later, as I found out what a wonderful and caring person she also was, I fell in love with her.

My thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on the door. I exchanged a look with my wife. Neither of us was expecting guests. I shrugged and went to get the door. The two men at the door introduced themselves as detectives from the London Metropolitan Police. I was surprised. Why were they here?

They introduced themselves as Detective James Conner and Detective Maggie Lam. And they were here apparently in regard to the strange circumstances surrounding my parents' death. I was mystified. They died when their yatch overturned in a tropical typhoon at sea. What was so mysterious about that? Nevertheless, I was curious. My gut instinct was screaming something at me I know not what. Only that it was a familiar feel, yet I could not recall ever feeling like that, not in the last six years.

Again, I wished I could breach the walls of the storm-tossed night to access what lies beyond. But the walls loomed high and forbidding.

"Paul Schwarz," I said and welcomed them into the house.

"My wife, Ehlana," I did the introductions.

They smiled and shook hands with her.

"Did you notice anything unusual about your parents before they left for that last sailing trip?" Detective Lam asked.

I frowned. Now that I thought about it, mom was a little flighty the few days before my parents left for that fateful trip. And never in the last six years did I recall my parents just packing up and going for a trip within days. Sailing expeditions usually take them at least a fortnight of preparation. I had assumed they had been planning but had forgotten to tell me about it… was I wrong?

"No… not really…" I said. "Though I must say that trip does seem a little sudden."

The detectives looked very interested, "If you could please explain that…"

"Well, it takes at least a fortnight to prepare for such a trip. And I usually know about it long before hand so I can help with the preparations. Yet this time, mom called me just before they left…"I elaborated.

Suddenly, the last few days before my parents left for that trip replayed itself in my mind. I started to pick up all the little instances that was unusual, and realized that the detectives were right. There was a distinct possibility that there are strange circumstances surrounding my parents' death. How I picked up those instances and analyzed those in mere seconds surprised me. It had felt so natural, as if it was second nature to me…

I shook myself out of that line of thought for the moment. First, I must find out what those detectives knew. I could go figure myself out later. If my parents did not die naturally, I wanted to know, I needed to know.

"They are my parents," I told the detectives, "If there is anything untoward about their demise, I have the right to know."

They looked at me for a moment, sympathy clear in their eyes. I looked away. I did not need that. I could feel my wife's arms around my shoulders, and I leaned back against her for comfort.

"Please," she beseeched them, "they are our parents. We won't ask for unnecessary details. And we will not interfere with your investigations… just tell us what you can, and whether our parents died naturally."

"As you know, Paul, the yatch was found overturned with your mother's body trapped beneath it. Your father's body was not found, and presumed lost at sea. It was assumed that your parents and the yatch did not survive the storm they ran into the previous night," Detective Conner finally said.

'Another stormy night to remember…' I thought to myself.

"However, given that your father is the son of a shipping magnate, protocol dictates some preliminary examination. Our findings indicated strong possibility of foul play…" Detective Lam continued. "There were indications that the yatch was tampered with, and several close friends of your parents mentioned that they were unusually quiet or distracted during those last few days…"

She was interrupted by a number of sharp raps on the door.

My wife excused herself to get the door, and soon returned with my grandfather, Reginald Schwarz. He was sixty-eight this year, and was very robust for his age. His carriage proud and the aura of power swirled about him. He was an extremely successful businessman, and was used to giving orders and expecting it to be carried out posthaste. My grandfather was also a very private person. While he was not opposed to shows of affections between family members in private, he shielded away from those in public, preferring to present a tough exterior to everyone else.

He tapped his heavy walking cane in displeasure at the two guests in the house, and waited for an explanation.

Both detectives had stood up respectfully at his entrance. It never failed to amaze me how grandpa could have that effect on people. I supposed it was a lifetime of experience. Again I did the introductions, and my grandpa gave them both a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"I wasn't expecting you, Grandpa Reg," I said.

"Of course not, Paul," he responded in his usual gruff voice. "I came to see how you are coping."

Unfortunately for the detectives, his displeasure at them grew when he heard of the reasons for their presence. It was unconscionable of them to intrude on people's moment of grief; he told them in a curt tone. And then he sent them packing. But not before they got him to agree to an interview the next day. I admired them for managing to get that out of grandpa Reg.

After the detectives left, the three of us sat down for some family time. We talked about the memories of happier days. Grandpa Reg entertained us with some tales of my father's childhood misadventures. It was good distraction.

Much later, he asked if I would be willing to go back and helped him with the family business. I said that I preferred to work elsewhere for experience first, and he said he understood and respected my views. However, the circumstances had changed, and he needed me. And he was an old man who wanted his grandson near him. I hesitated. Then told him I understood, and will seriously consider his offer. And I would have to finish up the project I was currently working on at my current job first. He gave me an approving smile and said he was proud of the man I had become. I blushed in pleasure. That was high praise indeed from that old man.

Then we left together for dinner.

HBHBHB

He was driving to his parents' place, the house in which he had grown up in. Next to him on the passenger seat of the car laid two bouguets of a dozen Vivaldi Roses. It was mom's favorite. He smiled wistfully as he remembered how he and his brother used to buy a dozen of those roses each for their mom every Mother's Day. And mom would cook a scrumptious gourmet dinner to rival the best restaurant in New York.

But his brother was no longer with them. He died over six years hence, on a storm-tossed night. And he had kept that tradition, buying two dozens of them on behalf of his brother every Mother's Day since.

It's been over six years, but he still missed his brother as if he was gone only yesterday. There were times when he thought he felt his brother's presence looking over his shoulder and making sure that he was eating and living fine. That's his brother, always caring for others above himself.

'Are you out there looking over and watching out for me, brother mine? Then you know I never forgot you…'

He had kept his word and had lived on. But it was hard. The first year was the hardest, having to learn to do things alone, and not having his brother to baby over. He had taken up the scholarship to do law at Harvard, and had returned to help his dad's detective business rather than work at the few prestigious law firms that wanted to hire him upon his graduation. And he was almost done with the diploma in Computer Systems Engineering by distance learning.

And they were currently on a rather big case dealing with potential fraud over international borders. If only his brother was alive and working on this case with them. It was the most intriguing case he got to work on, and he had a feeling the whole thing was much bigger than anticipated. The set up for money laundering was complex and brilliant. He would have missed it if not for the new mathematical algorithm he was testing out to sift out unusual money movements. He wished his brother was there to help them. His brother always had a knack for patterns even as he had the knack for numbers. They both made a good team.

Mom had become a lot quieter and more anxious about him since his brother's death. She had hoped he would become a lawyer, but had respected his career decision. He wished he could put her mind at ease, but investigating was in his blood. And he was also doing it in the memory of his brother, who would not have wanted him to give up becoming a detective just because he died.

He turned into the driveway of the house in which he had grown up in. For a moment, he sat in his car as the happy images from his childhood days. It started with two kids clambering all over the place as they played the various childhood games, and ended with two happy teens trading sharp quips as they needled each other over everything that mattered in the lives of teenagers.

He smiled. These were the memories that his brother would want him to remember. Not those of that storm-tossed night.

He got out of his car and took the liberty to collect the mails from the post box before letting himself into the house.

"I'm here mom," he called out as he walked into the dining area.

He dropped the letters on the dining table and passed the flowers to his mom.

"Happy Mother's Day," he said simply, reaching down to lay a kiss on her cheeks.

"Thanks, these are lovely as usual," his mother responded. "How's Callie? And how are the wedding preparations going?"

"Whoa mom, slow down," he laughed. "Callie got a surprise planned for her mom, and the wedding preparations are going well… no need to worry. And Callie's looking forward to an autumn wedding."

"I've set the table, Laur," Fenton announced, "and I can't wait to taste that new recipe you are testing out."

Turning to Frank, the father added, as he began to sort out the mail his son brought in. "You don't know how lucky you are, I've been sitting here all evening smelling the cooking and getting tortured by the aroma."

"No work tonight, Fent!" Laura reminded him.

He chuckled; his father had a tendency to forget his meals when he gets into a case. And his mom always worried about dad's health.

"Hmm… Laur, you got an unmarked mail from England," Fenton held out the worn looking envelope for his wife.

Laura was surprised as she was not aware she had any friends or relatives currently residing in England. Nevertheless, she took the envelope opened it, and read the letter held within.

"It's from Sarah," Laura said, clearly stunned to receive that letter.

"Who's Sarah?" He asked, curious.

Laura looked up with a faraway look in her eyes as she replied, "my sister… you wouldn't know her, Frank. We weren't close… well… we were very close, but got estranged as we grew up."

"Sarah? The one who married that adventurer son of some shipping magnate and barely came back to visit her family again? They had a son called Paul or something… the one your mom said looked like Joe… what does she wants?" Fenton queried.

He flinched a little. If there was someone out there who looked like his brother, he did not want to know. It would be too painful to look at that face everyday, knowing he was not Joe but someone else.

Laura nodded as she continued reading the letter. Then she frowned.

"Frank, get me a pen and paper … now!" Laura called out, her voice terse.

He was surprised but did as requested, and then sat down on the dining table to watch him mom marked off some stuff on the original letter and then scribbled a message on the blank paper.

"When we were younger, me and Sarah used to spend hours inventing codes and cryptograms to challenge each other," Laura said as she worked, her face getting more pale with each word she deciphered.

He felt concerned and had leaned over to read the message that his mom had decoded. He knew his dad was doing the same from the other side. His heart started to pound harder with each word. He gasped in shock. The final message read:

Sister… they… watchingme… Laura… sorry… confession … myson… Paul… died… pulled…Joe…from…sea… took … him …head …injury …permanent … amnesia … someone …foundout … wanted …Joe … savehim … helpus … Paul … isJoe … Trident … SANSL

NB: It was pointed out that Mother's Day fall on a Sunday and that there are no mail deliveries on that day. But for the purpose of this story, please either ignore that fact, or assume that neither Laura nor Fenton opened the mail box since Friday. Thanks!