Willis and I went out to dinner alone that evening. Miss Hutchins recommended a nice place in Bourne, so we drove the few miles to the other town. I’d tried to talk Miss Hutchins into not hiring the, excuse the expression, ‘psychic detectives,’ earlier, but she was adamant.
‘I love having my little inn,’ she’d told me. ‘And I just can’t stand that Daddy is doing this! And he did kill my mother! Leaving me all alone for all those years.’ Tears had formed in her eyes, threatening to spill over.
‘I’m not convinced this is your daddy’s doing,’ I told her. ‘It seems more likely that there is a live hand involved here.’
‘You’re forgetting, E.J. I saw him twice. It was definitely my daddy!’
‘When was the last time you saw your father – before he died, I mean?’
She thought long and hard. ‘I must have been about six. He enlisted right after Pearl Harbor.’
‘So it’s possible you don’t really remember exactly what he looks like?’ I asked, keeping my voice as gentle as possible.
Her mouth stiffened into a straight line. ‘I have pictures of my father! Would you like to see them?’ she said, not happy.
‘Sure,’ I said, and smiled, hoping to take the sting out of what I’d said. It didn’t work. She got up stiffly and walked to a bookcase next to the fireplace. She grabbed two very old photo albums and brought them to the sofa. When I offered to help, she pulled the books away from me.
‘I’m fine on my own!’ she said with a little heat. ‘I’ve been basically on my own since I was ten years old, you know!’
‘I’m sorry—’ I started, but she interrupted.
‘Don’t be. I’m fine.’ She sat down next to me, put one book to her other side and one on her lap. ‘Here we go,’ she said, and opened the book to a wedding picture. The bride, the groom, parents, groomsmen, bridesmaids, flower girls – the whole shebang. Except that none of the men had faces. They had all been scratched out – not just marked out with a pen, but with enough force for it to rip through the paper to the black sheet the pictures had been glued to.
Miss Hutchins’ intake of breath was audible from where I sat. ‘When was the last time you looked at these?’ I asked her.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I try not to dwell in the past. It’s too painful. A long time, I’d think. A very long time.’
She turned the page to reveal pictures of a honeymoon with a bride and a faceless groom. More pages, a mother holding a baby, and a faceless father standing with his arm around the woman. It was that way throughout the album. Miss Hutchins threw the book to the floor and grabbed the one sitting by her side. Again, all the male faces had been defaced. If there were two men, they were both faceless; four men, the same.
‘Uncle Herbert has been scratched out, too,’ Miss Hutchins said.
‘Uncle Herbert?’ I asked.
‘My father’s brother. He was the only family member left when my mother died, and he came to live with me. He died about five years ago.’ She thought for a moment, then said: ‘There were three of them – three brothers. Herbert was 4F so didn’t go to war, but both Daddy and his other brother, who I believe was the youngest one – Edgar, I think his name was – did. Daddy was in Europe, but Edgar died in the Pacific. Mama didn’t tell me what happened to him, so I guess it must have been pretty bad. Mama liked to gossip, and she would have told me if it was something I could hear about.’
‘Should we check the other photo albums?’ I asked her.
‘I’m almost afraid to,’ she said, dropping the second book on to the floor with the first.
I went to the bookcase and brought back three more albums. The third had no pictures scratched out, mainly because there were no men depicted. ‘These were taken after Daddy left for the war,’ Miss Hutchins said. ‘This next one,’ she said, ‘should be too.’ And it was. Those two books went to her other side, while she picked up the third. ‘I think this book is after Mama died. There probably aren’t a lot of pictures.’ And there weren’t. But there were some of a man – his face intact. ‘That’s Uncle Herbert,’ she said.
The pictures of Miss Hutchins were those of a pre-teen to a late teenager, and the man in the picture looked heavy and bloated. Neither he nor Miss Hutchins were smiling in any of the pictures. ‘Uncle Herbert drank a lot,’ Miss Hutchins said. ‘I think I watched over him much more than he ever watched over me. I always had to put out his cigarettes and move his whiskey bottles after he passed out on the sofa. Then I’d cover him up with the afghan my mother knitted so many years before. But then, one year I wasn’t fast enough and he dropped a lit cigarette on the afghan and burned a huge hole in it.’ Her lips were pursed again and you could tell she was still hurt and angry about the loss of this possession made by her mother.
She began to cry softly. ‘I don’t understand!’ she said. ‘Why would he do that? Scratch out his own face? And his brothers’ faces! Why would Daddy do that?’
I was pretty sure ‘Daddy’ had nothing to do with the defacing of the pictures. And I told Willis that while we partook of baked brie and white wine in Bourne.
Willis shook his head. ‘I don’t understand why anyone would do it.’
I agreed. Something was going on in Peaceful and I was bound and determined to find out what.
BACK HOME
It was a fairly typical Texas steakhouse: dead animals adorning the walls (deer heads, boar heads, whole raccoons, a bobcat sitting on a bare branch affixed to the wall), rock walls, a big fireplace going strong, hardwood tables with glossy finishes, and wait staff wearing black pants, white shirts, bolo ties and cowboy boots – both males and females.
There was a girl at the reception stand they knew from high school. ‘Hey, y’all,’ she said, greeting them with a big smile. ‘How many?’
‘Hey, Tiffany. Just the three of us,’ Megan said.
‘Come right this way,’ the girl said, and strode out in front of them.
The place wasn’t all that crowded for a Friday night, which did not bode well for the restaurant’s longevity. The building had been built as a seafood restaurant, which had lasted close to twenty years but changed hands when the chef/owner died. For a brief period it had been Italian – heavy on the pizza, which couldn’t compete with the national pizza chains in town, and was eventually bought by someone who wanted to turn it into a high-class bar. Since the county was dry and he could never get the correct paperwork to open a private club, it was sold before it ever opened. That’s when it became the Eyes of Texas Steakhouse. It had opened strong three years before, but had been on the wane ever since.
‘How’s this?’ the receptionist said, offering them a table in the middle of the room.
Sensing Megan was about to complain, and seeing Logan only one table away, Bess figured this was his section, so quickly said, ‘This is fine!’ with a big smile on her face.
The receptionist left and the girls sat down. ‘This is not fine!’ Megan said. ‘I’d rather have a booth! There are like a hundred empty ones! And did you notice Tiffany acted like she didn’t even know us?’
‘Maybe she got in trouble for being too friendly with the customers or something,’ Alicia suggested. ‘What are you going to get, Bess? The only vegetarian thing I see is a salad.’
‘I told you, I’ve decided to give meat a chance,’ Bess said.
‘Wasn’t that a Beatles’ song?’ Megan asked absently as she studied the steaks to try to figure out how big a one she could get without bankrupting their weekend allowance.
‘It was a John Lennon song, after the Beatles, and it was peace not meat,’ Alicia said with some authority.
‘Why do you know so much about the— Oh, wait! Graham the retro-king,’ Megan started.
But Alicia cut in. ‘I think I’m going to have the fillet,’ she said. ‘With sweet potato fries and a Caesar salad. And maybe we can share the chocolate lava cake for dessert?’
‘Share, my ass,’ Megan said. ‘I want a whole dessert and I’m looking at the banana split. If I have room after my sixteen-ounce porterhouse with balsamic vinegar-glazed mushrooms, risotto, and the grilled asparagus.’
‘Jeez, Megan, there won’t be any money left over for Alicia and me!’ Bess said.
‘You don’t eat much,’ Megan said.
‘Well, I’m going to!’ Bess declared. ‘I’m having the six-ounce sirloin, a baked potato and a side salad. And my own dessert – that apple crisp with the Blue Bell ice cream!’
Alicia brought out her phone and turned on the calculator app. ‘Hum, well, we can have the desserts or we can have the dinners, but we can’t have both. Megan, if you were to get something reasonable, then maybe, but a sixteen-ounce porterhouse? That’s like almost thirty dollars!’
‘But that’s what I want!’
‘Well, as Daddy would say, want in one hand—’ Bess started.
‘Yeah, I know, and poop in the other—’ Megan continued.
‘And see which one fills up first!’ Bess finished.
‘Gross!’ Alicia said. ‘Can we just make this happen? With dessert? Megan?’
‘Oh, fine! I’ll have the fillet. But the big one—’
‘Too expensive,’ Alicia said.
‘Fine,’ Megan said, teeth clenched. ‘The eight-ounce fillet. But I still want the risotto and asparagus!’
‘The asparagus is extra!’ Alicia said.
‘Jeez!’ Megan threw herself back in her chair, arms folded across her ample chest. ‘OK, fine! The tossed salad! Do you think I can have a tossed salad?’ she asked sarcastically, a trait learned at her mother’s knee.
‘Of course,’ Alicia said with a big smile.
‘Good choice, Megs,’ Bess said, also smiling.
‘Both of you – bite me!’ Megan said, refusing to look at either of her sisters.
Turning to Alicia, Bess said, ‘Speaking of Graham the retro-king, why aren’t you out with him tonight? I mean, it is date night!’
‘Yeah!’ Megan pounced. ‘Is there trouble in paradise?’
Alicia didn’t answer, but her lower lip began to tremble. Quickly she got up, almost knocking over her chair, and made a fast exit to the restroom.
‘What’d I say?’ Megan asked, staring after her foster sister.
‘What didn’t you say?’ Bess said with some disgust.
‘You started it!’ Megan said.
‘Hi, Bess,’ came a voice from behind her shoulder.
Bess whirled around, the smile already firmly planted on her lips. ‘Well, hey, Logan!’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you worked here!’
‘Yeah, I’ve been here like over a year. I’m assistant manager on Sunday nights,’ he said proudly.
‘Wow. That’s cool,’ Bess said.
‘Can I take y’all’s drink orders?’ he asked, a smile bringing out the dimples in his cheeks and the sparkle in his baby-blue eyes.
‘Hey, Logan,’ Megan said. ‘I’m here at the table too, you know.’
He grinned. ‘Hey, Megan. What do you want to drink?’
‘Diet Coke.’
‘Bess?’
‘Real Coke, and a real Sprite for Alicia.’
‘Yeah, I saw she was with y’all,’ Logan said. ‘Is she OK? Someone said they heard a girl crying in the ladies’ room.’
‘Ah, shit,’ Megan said, tossing her napkin down on the table. ‘I’ll go. Bess, you know what we want. Just order.’
‘Be nice!’ Bess called to her sister’s retreating back.
‘When am I not nice?’ Megan shot back, but noticed her sister wasn’t paying a bit of attention to her. Megan sighed and headed to the restroom. Alicia was sitting at a stool by the vanity when Megan came in. ‘Sorry,’ Megan said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Alicia nodded her head and dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex. ‘I know. It’s just … it’s just that …’ And she burst into tears.
Megan moved to her and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s OK, hon. Just let it out.’
‘He’s going back to UT in the fall,’ she said between sobs.
‘Graham?’
‘Yes! And he thinks we should date other people—’
Megan sat down on the stool next to Alicia, her body stiff and her face turning red. ‘Has that asshole been pressuring you for sex?’
‘No!’ Alicia said. ‘Not really.’ Sob, sob. ‘Maybe a little.’
‘You mean all the damn time?’
Alicia nodded her head.
‘I’m calling Mom!’ Megan announced and stood up.
Alicia stood up too, grabbing Megan’s arm. ‘Oh, God, no, Megs! Don’t do that! I don’t want Mom knowing about this! It would be awful!’
‘He has no right—’
‘If we’re a couple I guess he does,’ Alicia said, falling back down on the stool. ‘If we were just a “normal” couple, this would surely be going on, right? So why is it weird that he wants to?’
‘You are a normal couple!’ Megan said. ‘You are not related! Try to remember that.’
Alicia shook her head. ‘Not in the eyes of anyone who knows us. Not your parents or Grandma, but everybody at school thinks it’s weird. I’ve tried to keep it quiet, but—’
‘Yeah, I know – I told one of the twins and now it’s all over school.’
‘You didn’t mean to,’ Alicia said graciously. She sighed. ‘But the thing is I think it’s kinda weird, too. I mean I love him, but do I love him love him, or do I love him like a big brother?’
‘You don’t know?’
‘I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.’
‘Ooo, gross.’
Alicia sighed again. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘So why are you so upset that he’s going back to Austin for school? And that he wants y’all to date other people? I think that sounds like a good thing under the circumstances. This way you can find out if you love him love him, or just little-sister love him.’
Alicia swallowed a sob, then got up and went to the sink where she splashed cold water on her face and dabbed it dry with a paper towel.
‘You’re right, of course,’ she said. ‘But it’s just … sad,’ she said finally. ‘Really, really sad.’
Megan sighed her own sigh and walked up to Alicia, putting her arms around her and hugging her. ‘Yeah, it is. It’s sad. I’m sorry.’
Meanwhile, after Megan left the table, Bess began giving Logan their food order. In the middle of it they both heard the front door of the restaurant slam open, and both turned to see what was going on. A young man, a big beefy blond wearing a serious frown, charged into the room. On seeing Logan, he pointed at him and said simply, ‘Outside! Now!’
Logan looked at Bess. ‘Ah. I’ll be … right back?’ he said, as if not certain if he would or not. He set his order pad down on Bess’s table and headed to the front door. As Logan drew close, the big beefy blond grabbed Logan’s upper arm and pulled him out the door.
Not liking the look of this turn of events, Bess got up from the table and headed for the door herself.
Megan and Alicia came out of the restroom just in time to hear their sister scream and see the front door close behind her. Not missing a beat, both girls ran for the front door just in time to see their waiter, Logan, flat on the ground and their sister Bess riding the back of some guy they didn’t know, flailing wildly at his head and shoulders.
Willis and I got back from dinner around eight. The house was glowing with light and looked quite welcoming, despite the ‘ghost’ that may or may not reside within. Unfortunately that welcome was shattered when we walked in the front door and saw Diamond Lovesy and Humphrey Hammerschultz in the living room regaling Miss Hutchins with yet another mediumesque display.
‘I feel him,’ Diamond whispered loudly. ‘He’s evil. So evil.’ She was standing in the middle of the room, arms outstretched (I suppose to better feel all the evil), her eyes closed and her head tilted to the ceiling. I felt it was too bad her eyes were closed because she was missing the beauty of the ornately carved metal ceiling, the crown molding and the light fixtures that had to be at least a hundred years old … OK, so I have a thing for old houses.
‘Hello,’ I said loudly, hoping to break the spell Diamond’s shenanigans had produced. I got the desired result.
‘Oh, hello, E.J.! And Willis. How was dinner?’ Miss Hutchins asked.
‘Excellent,’ Willis said, walking further into the room and sitting down on the sofa next to our hostess. Humphrey already had settled himself in ‘Willis’s chair,’ as he was wont to describe it. ‘Thanks for the recommendation,’ my husband said, smiling down at Miss Hutchins.
She smiled back and patted his hand – encouraging me that all had been forgiven for his earlier blunder. ‘I’m so glad you enjoyed it.’ She looked up at Diamond Lovesy, who still stood in the middle of the room, arms still outstretched, swaying slightly but no longer staring at the ceiling. She was looking at Willis, and that look was anything but welcoming. ‘Miss Lovesy was attempting to channel my father,’ she said. ‘That means—’
‘I’ve heard about it,’ Willis said, and gave the medium the most insincere smile I’d ever seen cross my husband’s face.
‘Well, we haven’t gotten much so far,’ Miss Hutchins said to Willis as I found one of the armless stuffed chairs to plop into.
‘We’ll wait,’ Willis said. ‘Looking forward to it.’
Diamond’s outstretched arms fell to her side, and her head lowered as if she was studying the floor. She shook her head slowly from side to side. Then, looking up at Miss Hutchins, she said, ‘I’m sorry. He’s gone.’
‘Oh, bother!’ Miss Hutchins said. ‘I really wanted to have a talk with him!’ She frowned, and her lips tugged into a thin line. Pushing herself to her feet, she said, ‘Well, I think it’s time for a hot toddy, don’t y’all?’
The ‘hot toddy’ consisted of the bottle of whiskey from the previous afternoon and five glasses. ‘Do you have any wine?’ I inquired.
‘Oh, dear! Of course! I should have asked!’ Miss Hutchins said, starting to push herself up from the table.
I beat her to it. ‘Just tell me where it is,’ I said.
‘The white is in the refrigerator, of course, and the red is in the cupboard above the sink. The wine glasses—’
‘That’s OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll just use the one you’ve already—’
‘Of course not! These are high ball glasses! Let me get you a wine glass,’ she said, again starting to push herself up. I, of course, was wishing I’d just drunk the damn whiskey.
‘No, no, you sit. I’ll find the wine glasses.’
‘In the hutch in the dining room. Top right door,’ she said.
And I was off in search of my goodies, leaving the four of them to devour the whiskey, which, I noticed when I returned, they’d done.
‘Oh, I have another bottle! Uncle Herbert bought a whole case a week before he died. He was only able to drink about four bottles of it,’ she said. ‘Willis, dear, it’s also in the hutch. Bottom right. You might want to bring two bottles.’
And so we sat and drank, and I noticed Humphrey Hammerschultz seemed to partake of more than his share. Diamond was limply drunk after about four glasses, while I wasn’t far behind after three glasses of chilled white wine. After losing those thirty-five pounds, I find I get drunk faster. Who knew? Willis, the animal, sees that as a plus.
At around ten, both Diamond and I excused ourselves and helped each other up the stairs. An hour later, Willis woke me up when he came in the room by turning on the overhead light.
‘Arugh!’ I said, shielding my eyes while simultaneously staring daggers at my husband. ‘Turn off that effing light!’
‘God, you’re a mean drunk,’ he said.
‘Don’t make me hurt you!’
‘Yeah, you and what army?’ he said, crawling on the bed and attempting to kiss me. It felt more like he was licking me.
‘You’re drunk!’ I accused.
‘Hey, kettle, pot calling!’ he said and grinned at me.
‘So everybody’s gone to bed?’ I asked.
‘Well, I helped Miss Hutchins to her room, but Humphrey insisted he had to stay downstairs and do some, as he put it, “recon.”’
‘What does that mean?’ I asked.
Willis rolled off me and sat up, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Hell if I know. The guy’s weird. Even weirder with a little too much whiskey in his belly.’
‘I bet we’ll find him sound asleep on the sofa in the morning,’ I said.
‘Wouldn’t be surprised,’ Willis said and yawned. ‘I’ll brush my teeth in the morning.’ He rolled over and began to snore.
Little did I know at the time that I was more prophetic than Diamond Lovesy. A little wrong, but closer than she’d gotten so far.
1935–1941
Edgar’s deployment to Shanghai didn’t start out well. He discovered seasickness, and lost the entire ten pounds he’d gained during boot camp. Although most trainees lost weight during boot camp, Edgar, who’d been forced into a habit of sporadic eating, discovered three square meals a day much to his liking. This did not continue on the long voyage to China. But once he arrived at the International Settlement outside of Shanghai, the seasickness disappeared and he was able to get back to his three squares a day. He also learned that, despite his overnight stays in the brig, and his less-than-stellar performance in boot camp, he had been assigned to the 4th Marine Regiment, one of the most sought-after assignments in the Marines. Edgar figured getting the 4th was a mistake, but one he saw no reason to rectify. Billets were converted schools, office buildings or private mansions. His platoon was housed in one of the latter, which Edgar figured was his due, after being deprived of the life he could have lived in the house on Post Oak Street back home in Peaceful.
There were other things he discovered about his Shanghai duty that were even better than three meals a day and a nice billet: the U.S. dollar went a very long way, the Chinese and Russian girls were good to look at and better to bed, beer was cheap and, even as a private, Edgar could afford to hire a houseboy to take care of his gear. In fact, he was soon to learn that the Marines based in China – the China Marines – didn’t have to polish their brass, mow the lawn, rake gravel or even keep their barracks clean – all this was done by servants, as were the thirty days a year they were supposed to have kitchen duty, otherwise known as KP.
The International Settlement consisted of American, British, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and Dutch communities, with a French compound not far away. The Japanese had been part of that settlement until 1931, when they’d staged an explosion of Japan’s South Manchuria Railway near Mukden. It was then that the Japanese invaded Manchuria. Edgar was regaled with stories of the war between the Chinese and Japanese that was observed by many Marines as they sat behind a three-and-a-half mile front line that had been barbwired and sandbagged with machine guns at the ready. But neither the Chinese nor the Japanese encroached on the International Settlement, and the 4th just had grandstand seats for the war.
It was an easy life for Edgar, one spent buying ivory, pearls and other extravagances he thought would sell well back in the States, seeing how many different women he could bed, and eventually finding his way into Shanghai proper for the added spices of gambling, prostitution and his sin of choice, opium.
But events put a damper on Edgar’s blissful days in Shanghai. During his second year as a China Marine, the Chinese and Japanese were again locked in combat. A final offensive launched by the Japanese Army in October of 1937 led to China’s retreat from Shanghai. This retreat left the International Settlement and the French Concession mere dots on the landscape of Japanese territory. Edgar had no choice now but to stay within the confines of the International Settlement, leading to a few problems with opium withdrawal.
Although the Allied forces within the settlement numbered at no more than 7,500 against the 300,000 Japanese now in residence in Shanghai, the settlement continued its daily routine. What was going on outside it held little interest for Edgar and his few cronies, most of whom, like Edgar, were drying out from opium abuse by becoming what was more acceptable: good old American drunks.
In 1939, during Edgar’s fourth year as a China Marine, Japan’s forces moved southward with the seizure of the Hainan Islands. The hostility of that attack, combined with repeated bombings and atrocities against civilian Chinese, led the U.S. Fleet to move from the American west coast to Pearl Harbor. Edgar didn’t pay too much attention to this: he was more interested in something he’d heard from another jarhead stationed at the Peking Marines’ summer camp at Peitaiho, which overlooked the white sand beaches and the red bluffs at the seaward end of the Great Wall of China. There was an archaeological dig going on there that produced the remains of a 500,000-year-old Peking man’s bones. These remains were to be shipped back to the States in November of 1941, the same month the 4th Marines left China for the Philippines. They were never seen again. It was never proved that Private Edgar Hutchins was in any way involved.