A Midwinter's Tail

13

We moved back to the chairs by the fire. Boris got up, stretched and padded out to the kitchen.

“So, what do you know about Burtis?” Harrison asked me.

I turned sideways toward him, pulling one leg up underneath me so I could see his face. “Not a lot,” I said. “I know Burtis worked for Idris Blackthorne.”

Harrison nodded. “The Chapmans didn’t have a pot to piss in,” he said. “Excuse my language. A pile of kids and not a lot of money. Burtis grew up poor and hard.” He ran his fingers through his beard. “He quit school to work full-time for Idris and put food on the table for his younger brothers and sisters. That’s not to say there weren’t other jobs around here then—there were, good ones, but not if you didn’t have an education.”

I nodded.

“Everything Burtis has he worked for. I know what people say, but most of his enterprises are legal.”

Harry gave another snort.

“Well, close to,” his father amended.

“Dayna came here with her parents, on vacation,” I said.

“That’s right.” Harrison rubbed his hand absently over the chair arm. “She was seventeen. Pretty as all get out. Every teenage boy in town noticed her and every teenage girl wanted to run her out of town. You know how kids can be.”

Boris wandered back into the room, nails clicking on the floor, and settled at the old man’s feet, head against his legs. “I think the girl was smitten with Burtis the first moment she saw him, which was when she fell off the dock at the old marina and he fished her out of the water.”

He narrowed his gaze at me. “Would it surprise you to know that Burtis wouldn’t go out alone with her because she was just seventeen?”

I shook my head. “No, not really.” As I’d told Maggie and Roma, Burtis seemed to follow his old code of ethics—like a knight during the crusades—or a Klingon warrior.

Harry Junior got to his feet, reached for my cup and inclined his head toward the kitchen—and the coffeepot—without saying a word.

I nodded. “Please,” I said softly.

“It was late in the fall,” Harrison continued, “right before Thanksgiving. Dayna’s eighteenth birthday. She arrived in town on the bus and showed up where Burtis was working.” He shrugged. “They were married four days later.”

Harry handed me a fresh cup of coffee. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m surprised. Burtis doesn’t seem the type to be so impulsive.”

“Probably the only time in his life he was,” the younger Taylor said.

Harrison shifted again in his chair. Boris lifted his head and waited until the old man was settled again.

“They were happy. At least they looked like they were. Didn’t last.” He exhaled with a soft sigh. “After a time I think Dayna just got overwhelmed with the reality of bein’ married. She had little kids, no friends or family, damn little money and a husband whose livelihood was a little sketchy. Not to mention parents who were pressuring her to come home.”

I thought about what life must have been like for Dayna Chapman back then and felt a twinge of sympathy for her.

“One day she was just gone,” Harrison said. “You can imagine the kind of loose talk that went around town.”

I nodded.

“Burtis wouldn’t talk about her and it wasn’t long before people learned to stop fishing for information.”

I took a drink, then balanced my cup on one knee. Harry made a good cup of coffee. “She never came back to see her children?” I asked.

Harrison smoothed a veined hand over his head. “Never. In the beginning Burtis took the boys to see her in the summer and a couple of times at Christmas, but pretty soon that stopped.”

I took another sip of my coffee and saw a look pass between the two men.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.

Boris was asleep. Caught in a dream, he moved his back legs and made a low whining noise. With a bit of difficulty, Harrison leaned forward and patted the dog’s back. The movement stopped. The dog sighed and settled back into sleep.

Harrison looked at me as he straightened up, and his mouth twisted to one side. His gaze moved to his son again.

“Dayna used to send gifts at Christmas and for the boys’ birthdays. Dad’s always been skeptical anything actually came from Dayna,” Harry said, stretching his legs out in front of him.

I eyed the old man and after a moment his eyes met mine. “You think it was Burtis doing all that,” I said.

He nodded and let out a soft sigh. “I may as well say it as think it. I do. Say whatever you want about the man, he’s a damn good father.”

Harry nodded his agreement. “He’d protect those kids with his life.”

Harrison eyes locked with mine. “You can’t fault a man for that,” he said, and it seemed to me that there was a bit of a challenge in the words.

“No, you can’t,” I said.

“I don’t want to see Burtis railroaded for something he didn’t do.”

I exhaled softly. “Neither do I.”

Boris moved again then. His back feet scrambled as if he were chasing something and he yelped a couple of times.

Harrison leaned over again and gave the dog a couple more reassuring pats on the back. “He chases more things in his sleep than he does in real life,” he said with a grin. “That reminds me, what about those two cats of yours? How are they?”

So we were changing the subject. “Spoiled,” I said, smiling back at him. “I made sardine crackers for them yesterday and my house still smells like fish.”

At the word “fish” Boris lifted his head, looked around and gave an enthusiastic bark. “Hush, Kathleen’s not making treats for you,” Harry said.

The dog’s response was to drop his head down on his paws and look at me sadly. I thought about Owen doing the same thing. He and Boris had a few things in common.

I leaned over and stroked the top of the dog’s head. “Next batch I’ll send you some,” I whispered. “I promise.”

As if he knew what I’d said, he licked his lips.

I left shortly after that. Standing at the back door, I wrapped Harrison in a hug. “Thank you for supper and thank you for telling me about Burtis.”

“My door’s always open.”

I smiled at him. “We’re putting up another tree in the library tomorrow. Come and see it when you get the chance.”

“I’ll do that if someone will let me out of the house.” His eyes darted sideways.

“That can probably be arranged,” Harry said. “I’ll be right back,” he said to his father. “I’m just going to walk Kathleen to her truck.”

We started across the side yard and I waited until I was sure we were out of earshot of the little house before I spoke. Harrison might have been over eighty, but his hearing was excellent.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” I said.

Harry looked at me and then he kicked a clump of snow across the yard. “What makes you think I have something I need to say to you?” he asked.

I pulled the hood of my jacket closer around my neck. “You were watching me on and off all night. Either you were struggling with whether you wanted to say something to me, or you were afraid I was going to steal the silver.”

“Silver’s locked up,” he said, kicking another lump of snow that disintegrated when his boot hit it.

I stopped by the side of the truck. “So what is it?”

“I know it was one of the chocolates that killed Dayna Chapman.”

I nodded. “It seems to be the worst-kept secret in town.”

“Burtis handed Dana that box, Kathleen,” Harry said. The words hung between us in the cold night air.

“I know. I saw him, too,” I said.

Harry shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “There’s not that many years between Burtis and me. And we both had wives that decided they’d rather be anywhere else, so I get how he feels about his kids because I feel the same way.”

I nodded, wondering what he was building up to.

“When he was young Burtis had this thing he’d do when he wanted to impress a girl. He’d pull a flower out from behind her ear. A little magic trick.” Harry held out both hands. “A tulip, a rose, even a dandelion.”

I saw his mouth twist sideways in a half smile.

“It worked every time.” He scraped at a small chunk of ice with the toe of his heavy boot. “I think the old man’s right. I think all those parcels and cards over the years for the boys that were supposed to be from their mother were really Burtis’s doing. Not a whole lot different from surprising a pretty girl with a flower when you think about it.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “No, it’s not.”

“I can see why a man might not want his children to know that basically their mother hadn’t really ever given a goddamn about them. And he might go to any lengths to keep them from finding out.”

“Including kill her?” I asked.

Harry made a face. “Or make her sick enough to land her in the hospital.”

I just couldn’t see Burtis doing something like that. He was far more direct.

“I don’t want to be thinking what I’m thinking, Kathleen,” Harry said. “But it’s kind of hard not to.”

“I don’t know how I can help you,” I said.

Harry jammed his hands in his pockets. “You have a way of seeing past the things that don’t matter. If you can see into the heart of this mess, then maybe you can keep some people from getting hurt who sure as hell don’t deserve to be.”

The conversation reminded me uncomfortably of the one I’d had with Harry when Agatha Shepherd died.

“Harry, I’m not the police,” I said. I’d said that to him then, too.

He shrugged. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” He looked up at the night sky. “Looks like snow’s coming,” he said. He smiled. “Drive safely.”

I nodded. “I will. Good night.”

I got in the truck, started it and headed out the driveway. In the rearview mirror I could see Harry still standing in the yard.

I thought about what he’d told me as I drove home.

Had Dana abandoned her children even more than anyone knew? Had Burtis used a little misdirection and subterfuge to keep them from finding out?

With all her faults I’d never doubted the depth and ferocity of my mother’s love for me or Sara and Ethan. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to discover it was all a lie.

All I had was speculation, I reminded myself. And just because Burtis could seemingly make a flower appear from behind a young girl’s ear didn’t mean he could switch one chocolate box for another.

One thing that wasn’t speculation was Burtis’s love for his kids. But just how far would he go to protect them?