Chapter 4 - What Arthur Bennett Saw)
Claire did not tell Margaret about the second call immediately.
She needed to understand Mark first.
The next afternoon she found him alone in the kitchen.
David had driven into town.
Margaret was sleeping.
Mark sat at the table with a beer.
It was barely noon.
Claire poured herself water.
"You look tired."
Mark laughed.
"You sound like a nurse."
"I am one."
"Not my nurse."
"No."
He took another drink.
"Then stop trying to diagnose me."
Claire sat across from him.
"I spoke to Paul."
The bottle stopped halfway to his mouth.
She had her answer.
Mark knew Paul was alive.
Claire continued quietly.
"Do you want to tell me the truth before David comes home?"
Mark placed the bottle down.
"You didn't speak to Paul."
"I did."
"Impossible."
"Why?"
"Because Paul doesn't talk to strangers."
"You've talked to him?"
Mark stared at the table.
"Get out."
"Mark."
"Get out."
"Your mother is being financially exploited."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Her signature was forged."
"You can't prove that."
"Your notary has been dead for eight months."
Mark's face tightened.
Claire leaned forward.
"What happened in 1999?"
"Nothing."
"Arthur died."
"People die."
"Paul disappeared."
"People leave."
"Arthur wrote a note saying David knew about Room B."
Mark's eyes snapped toward her.
Claire regretted revealing it immediately.
"What note?"
"The one you were looking for yesterday."
Mark stood.
"Give it to me."
"No."
"You have no idea what you're carrying."
"Then explain it."
Mark walked to the window.
For a long time he stared outside.
Then his shoulders dropped.
"Arthur found out David had been stealing from Bennett Manufacturing."
"How much?"
"At first? Maybe fifty thousand."
"And later?"
"Hundreds."
Claire remained silent.
"David forged invoices. Paid fake contractors. Took loans against equipment Arthur owned outright."
"Did Mark help him?"
Mark gave her a bitter look.
"I was seventeen."
"That isn't an answer."
"I delivered papers. I didn't know what they were."
"When did Arthur discover it?"
"A month before he died."
"What happened?"
"He confronted David."
"And?"
"David threatened to leave."
Claire waited.
Mark laughed quietly.
"That's the funny part. Arthur wanted him to leave."
"Then why didn't David?"
"Because Arthur was changing his will."
Claire thought of the property restriction.
"He was cutting David out?"
"Not completely. He was putting the company into a trust. Paul was supposed to help manage it."
"And David found out."
"Yes."
"What did he do?"
Mark looked at the doorway.
"Nothing at first."
"Then?"
"Arthur got sick."
"What kind of sick?"
"Chest pain. Dizziness. Confusion."
"Heart disease?"
"That's what doctors thought."
"But?"
Mark lowered his voice.
"Arthur said somebody was messing with his medication."
Claire felt every hair on her arms rise.
"Who handled it?"
"Mom sometimes. Me sometimes."
"And David?"
Mark said nothing.
Claire remembered Arthur's note.
Do not trust the death certificate until you see the original admission ledger.
"Was Arthur hospitalized?"
"Twice."
"What happened the second time?"
"He collapsed in the basement."
"In Room B?"
"Outside it."
"Who found him?"
"David."
Claire stared at him.
"Was Arthur conscious?"
"For a while."
"What did he say?"
Mark rubbed both hands over his face.
"He kept saying wrong bottle."
"What bottle?"
"I don't know."
"Did police know?"
"There wasn't a police investigation. He was sixty-one with heart problems."
"How did he die?"
"Hospital cardiac arrest."
"Then why did he warn Margaret not to trust the death certificate?"
Mark stood abruptly.
"I've said enough."
"Paul called me."
Mark turned.
"He said he trusted you."
Mark's expression collapsed.
Claire continued.
"He said it was a mistake."
For several seconds Mark looked like the seventeen-year-old boy Margaret had described.
Then he whispered, "Paul shouldn't be alive."
Claire's stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Because David made sure he wasn't."
Before Claire could speak, tires crunched outside.
Mark went pale.
"He's back."
"Who?"
"You know who."
The front door slammed.
Mark grabbed Claire's arm.
"If David asks, we talked about Mom's medication."
"Mark."
"Listen to me."
His grip tightened.
"Do not mention Paul again."
"Why?"
David's footsteps crossed the foyer.
Mark whispered.
"Because he buried him once."
David entered the kitchen.
He looked from Mark to Claire.
"Everything okay?"
Claire smiled faintly.
"Your brother and I were discussing medication."
David looked at Mark.
Mark nodded too quickly.
David smiled.
"Good."
Then he placed something on the table.
Claire recognized it.
Her hospice identification badge.
She instinctively touched her scrub pocket.
Empty.
"Looking for this?"
David asked.
"Where did you get it?"
"You dropped it."
"Where?"
"In Mom's bedroom."
He slid it toward her.
Claire picked it up.
David leaned over the table.
"You're here to keep her comfortable."
"I know my job."
"Then do it."
"I intend to."
"Good."
He straightened.
"Because people who start digging through old family dirt tend to find things they don't know how to handle."
Claire looked at him.
"Was that advice too?"
David smiled.
"Exactly."
Claire left an hour later.
As she reached her car, she saw Mark watching from the upstairs window.
He raised one hand.
Not waving.
Warning her.
She drove three blocks before noticing the folded paper tucked under her windshield wiper.
May you like
There were six words written on it.
HE DID NOT BURY PAUL ALONE.
