Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

CHAPTER 10

A light shone in Daniella Laprade’s living room window at six-thirty that same evening. Mercer pulled into his mother’s driveway, stepped out of his Lexus SUV, glad for the lamppost at the walkway to the front door, for darkness enveloped everything. A stream of cold breath gave evidence to the plunging mercury. Hurrying to the red front door, he knocked, then opened it.

“Mother.”

Daniella looked up from By the Light of Other Suns, which she was reading with intense interest. “Where’s your coat, son?”

“Left it in the car.”

“Well, it won’t do you any good there. Are you trying to die before I do?” She closed the heavy book, carefully marking her place with a satin ribbon.

“You’ll outlive us all, Mother.” He leaned over, kissed the 94-year-old on her rouged cheek, then sat opposite her in a chintz-covered comfortable chair. “Good book?”

“Remarkable. It’s about the diaspora of our people after 1865. Of course, we never left.”

Mercer smiled. “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

“Indeed. Laprades and Lorillards live by that.” Her diamond earrings, bracelet to match, long wool navy skirt, and cowl-necked sweater marked Daniella as a proper woman of a former generation.

Smartly turned out even at home, Daniella was always presentable, should an unannounced caller arrive. A lady can never be too careful about her appearance, age be damned.

Tapping her finger on the volume, she ordered, “Fetch me a drink. Make one for yourself. We could both use a lift.”

Mercer repaired to the well-stocked bar tucked into a corner of an equally well-stocked pantry with wooden folding doors to hide the cans. He quickly returned, a stiff bourbon in one hand and a cut crystal glass filled with ice cubes and locally made ginger ale in the other. Then he returned, poured himself a thimble of scotch with his own ginger ale chaser. The ginger ale sometimes seemed to pack more punch than the liquor. That stuff could pucker your lips. The Laprades regarded clear spirits as inferior. If you were going to drink, it had better be bourbon, whiskey, scotch, or rye.

Sinking in the chair as his mother drank half her bourbon with one smooth draw, he held up his scotch, stuck his tongue in first, then took a tiny sip. A wonderful warm sensation traveled down his throat.

Daniella raised her glass, “God bless the state of Kentucky.”

He nodded, holding up his shot glass. Then he said, “Mother, how are you feeling?”

“Now? Good.” She placed her glass on the coaster. “Good, all things considered. I haven’t been idle today. I called Dr. Zazakos about my father’s dental records. As you know our family has used the Zazakos family since the earth was cooling and they keep records. Well, they keep everything, don’t they?” She referred to each generation’s habit of collecting something. “I swear they never see a piece of paper they don’t want to save. Naturally, the wives throughout the years are far more intelligent. They collect diamonds.” She half smiled.

“Well, Mother, you didn’t do so bad yourself.”

“I had many admirers. In my day, men showed their appreciation in useful fashion. Don’t you want to know what I found out?”

“I expect you’ll tell me.”

“They have Harlan’s records and Peter Zazakos promised to e-mail them to the Lexington authorities. This should hasten the identification of those bones which I know, I know in my own bones, are my father’s.”

“Indeed, you haven’t been idle,” Mercer said admiringly.

“Did you and Phil find anything?”

“Let’s say that the Chetwynds are not like the Zazakos family but we found some things that Old Tom, then Roger saved: old photographs.”

“Well?”

“A few, the old sepia kind, showed Harlan standing horses.”

“You’d think the Chetwynds would have saved more things. They have every trophy they ever won.”

“Silver,” Mercer replied simply.

“I used to have scrapbooks but when I left my first husband, a worthless worm if ever there was one but handsome, oh so very handsome, he burned everything before I could come back to move them. Even burned my hats. Spiteful and silly.”

“Mother, that is the most I’ve ever heard you say about your first husband.”

She half laughed. “I married in haste and repented at leisure. Back then, son, if a woman wasn’t married by twenty she was an old maid.”

“You were and remain beautiful. I bet you were besieged.”

She loved hearing that and recalled, “Graziella and I had our gentlemen callers and I must admit, Graziella married better than I. More sensible. But I learned.” She inhaled. “How I learned. Your father, my third husband, like you, was a good, responsible man. My second husband was, too, but World War Two claimed him like so many.” She held up her glass. “Might you fetch me another?”

He did as he was told, then settled again opposite her, flicking a speck of dust from his cashmere sweater.

“Son, how much did that cost?”

“The sweater?”

“I’m not looking at your shoes.”

He stalled, then confessed. “Four hundred and twenty-five dollars.”

“Mercer.” Her voice rose.

“Mother, I deal with ultrawealthy people. I can’t look unsuccessful. Failure has a scent, you know, and so does success.”

“True.” She nestled more deeply in her chair. “Tomorrow you will call the Lexington authorities, I have the number by the phone, and inquire about the dental records. If they have had time to compare. They need to hear from more than me and you have a voice that can get attention.”

Mercer did not think he had such a voice but he knew an order when he heard one. “Yes, Mother.”

She sat upright. “I want to know and I want to know what happened. I put this out of my mind and then it rushes back again like a swarm of hornets circling, or maybe a wind. I don’t know.” She waved her hand. “I can usually express myself but I find I become overwhelmed. Daddy died while I was so very young.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Finishing her drink she lowered her voice. “A restless soul, painful and never good. We must lay those bones and that soul to rest.”

He believed as did his mother and he, too, lowered his voice. “I wonder sometimes, I wonder about all those people killed in wars throughout time. Never properly buried if they were buried at all. Are they out there wandering? There’s so much we don’t know, Mother, spiritual things, things that so many people would ignore today or think we were unintelligent for feeling this way.”

“Son, the truly stupid people are the ones who think they know everything.”