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Around five-thirty, Brad Wethers finally arrived at the Keating House to discover Brittany, Heather, Nicole, Casey, and Evan in the midst of cooking up a yummy Thai-inspired dinner with peanut sauce, chicken, vegetables, and rice. A nourishing yet slightly spiced smell swirled out from the opened windows; laughter erupted out toward the heavens, proof that companionship, love, and family were all truly needed— even in the face of cruelty and adversity. Even in the face of so much loss.
Brittany had said on the phone that they had quite a lot to tell him, which had nearly sliced him in two. He’d felt the weight of every passing moment as he stood at the traffic light, lifting the ridiculous stop sign over his head and guiding drivers through. “I’m a detective,” he’d muttered to himself once or twice throughout, irritated that he couldn’t use his real skills and operated, instead, as a human traffic light.
After Brad knocked on the door, Brittany pulled the door open with a brilliant smile and her lips tinged red from wine. She made her way toward him, hugging him for a split-second, before guiding him into the Keating House.
“We’ve had quite a day,” she explained as Brad removed his shoes in the foyer.
“Is that Officer Brad?” Nicole peeked out from the kitchen, waving a large wooden spoon in greeting.
“Welcome back, Officer Brad!” Casey called out, raising her wine glass toward him.
“Do you guys ever do anything but hang out, drink wine, and prepare delicious meals?” Brad teased as he entered the kitchen, immediately accepting a glass of wine from Evan Snow.
“You got a problem with our style of living?” Nicole teased.
“I can’t say that I do,” he said as he dropped his head back, allowing the density of the Italian wine to coat his tongue.
“It’s really something, isn’t it?” Brittany asked after he swallowed.
Brad, overwhelmed with the brightness of her eyes and the gleam of her hair, nodded, unsure of what he answered for. “It really is.”
Brad steadied himself against the kitchen counter as Brittany clasped her fingers together.
“Evan figured out that Conner’s probably somewhere in Portland,” she affirmed.
Brad’s heart thudded strangely at the mention of Conner’s name. To Brad, he was something like a villain in a comic book.
“And I confirmed it with my lawyer,” Brittany continued. “Conner’s lawyer lives in Portland, as well. It makes sense that he went there. I think he always missed bigger cities after he left Boston. But he needed to be close enough to torment me.”
“Ugh. This guy is the worst!” Casey cried, exasperated.
“And it stands to reason that if he’s in communication with Elijah... There will be clues around Portland as to where they’ve hung out,” Evan Snow said, drawing a spatula through a large pile of sizzling veggies.
“What kind of clues?” Brad asked.
“Well, how should I put this?” Evan knocked the side of the skillet with his spatula. “Elijah has certain demands when it comes to his lifestyle. He wouldn’t be caught dead in something like a TGI Fridays, for example.”
“Which is his loss,” Heather interjected. “They have brilliant quesadillas.”
“That being said,” Evan continued with a laugh, “There are only a select number of upper-echelon bars in the Portland area.”
“We’re planning to just start spamming them with phone calls tonight,” Brittany explained.
“I’ll pretend to be Elijah, saying I lost my credit card somewhere. If the person answering the phone acts like we know each other... That’s a clue that Elijah and, presumably, Conner have spent a good deal of time there. And because Elijah is a creature of habit, I see no reason why the two of them wouldn’t frequent that joint, especially during this exciting week for them, at the height of their outrageous con against Brittany.”
“I can’t get it in my head as to why Elijah would want anything to do with this,” Casey said, disgruntled.
“Elijah just likes a good time,” Evan told her. “And he’s never gotten into any real trouble before. Our father got him out of the DUIs. When he was caught stealing in college, he was put on a probation period of, like, two months, and then it was written off his record. Money has been his defense through all of it, the reason he hasn’t fallen apart. And I have to say. I’m so damn sick of it.”
“Yeah!” Brittany cried, lifting her glass of wine toward the ceiling triumphantly. “Let’s get ‘em!”
“But first, let’s eat. Coat our stomachs with some nourishing food.” Nicole suggested coaxingly, collecting several plates from the cabinet and lining the dining room table.
A few minutes later, Abby and Valerie both walked through the front door. Afterward, Brittany’s son, Thomas, arrived, hungry from a long day of lobster fishing. Brad watched as Brittany placed a gentle kiss on her children’s foreheads; his heart swam with affection for her, for the love she had for the children she’d created with that monster.
What a strange thing it was to grow up, to meet so many others with such density to their stories. What a strange thing it was to find that he liked it, the growing older thing. Yes, he’d wanted to do that with Rachel, spend that time into infinity side-by-side. But God had had other plans.
“Val said that some more of your pieces popped up today?” Thomas asked his mother as they sat around the dining room table, their forks and knives clinking, their chairs shrieking against the hardwood.
“That’s right,” Brittany affirmed. “The plan is to get them all back!”
Thomas laughed outright, drawing a slab of chicken doused in peanut sauce to his lips. Brad wondered if Thomas knew that his father was their number-one suspect in his mother’s robbery. How could a young man handle another huge blow to their already broken family dynamic?
As they ate, the conversation circled other avenues, other stories. Thomas talked about nearly falling into the Atlantic earlier that morning when a wave had snuck up on the lobster fishing boat and nearly cast him in.
“It scares me, you being out there on the water all the time,” Brittany admitted.
Thomas chewed somberly; his eyes shadowed. “Then I guess maybe this is the right time to tell you that I was accepted into the University of Maine this morning.”
Brittany threw her hands up on either side of her, dropping her fork with a clank. “Thomas! You didn’t even tell me you were applying.”
She scrambled around the table as others in the Harvey-Keating clan roared with excitement. Brittany held her son tightly against her, her eyes closed. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “Really. I was proud of you before, but this... This is the next step toward your future. I really believe that.”
Later, while Nicole, Casey, and Brittany cleaned up dinner, scraping plates clean and soaking the skillet, Thomas said goodbye to everyone, telling them he wanted to go celebrate his acceptance with some pals at a bar nearby. Brittany wished him well, waving a hand as he stepped out. When he left, her eyes remained on the closed door, as though she half-expected him to burst back through.
“He doesn’t know about his dad, does he?” Nicole asked suddenly, demanding the same question that had been on Brad’s mind.
Brittany blew air out between her lips. “Of all of us, Thomas had a pretty good relationship with Conner. They haven’t spoken since Conner left, that I know of, at least. And his wanting to go to college is proof that he wants to extend himself beyond his father’s career in the fishing industry. But still, I imagine it’ll be a hard blow when we eventually have to tell him the truth.”
“We have to catch him first,” Evan affirmed, tapping his cell phone with the edge of his fingernail. “I think it’s about time I make those calls.”
Together, they gathered around the mid-century couch in the living room and watched as Evan dialed The Motley Crew, a swanky place on the top floor of a Portland high-rise that sold twenty-five-dollar cocktails and fifty-dollar appetizers. This suited the likes of Elijah Snow, apparently, even as it would have bankrupted Brad Wethers.
“Hi, there. It’s Evan. Evan Snow.” He spoke with unlimited confidence. Brad almost believed him, despite knowing the con. “I was curious if I left my credit card on file with you.” Evan’s cheek twitched as he listened to the response. It was clearly a disappointment. “Thank you anyway.”
He hung up and shrugged simply. “They denied seeing my credit card, and they didn’t know him. They pretended to, but there was no camaraderie.”
“What do you mean?” Heather asked.
“I mean, Elijah is incredibly talkative. Wherever he goes, he makes friends with waiters and bartenders and busboys. If Elijah went there frequently, they would have greeted me much differently.”
Evan continued to dial, one fancy top-dollar place after another. One place almost had Evan fooled until they asked him how to spell his last name.
“Are you kidding?” Evan demanded before hanging up. “They obviously weren’t it.”
After nearly an hour of this, Brad was on the verge of suggesting they give up for the night. Desperation lurked on each of their faces.
“Have you heard of this speakeasy?” This was Abby, curled up in a ball on the floor, leaning against the couch. She peered down at her phone, which seemed to reveal endless secrets.
“What speakeasy? It wasn’t on my list.” Evan replied.
“It’s called The Minty Green,” Abby recited. “It’s not very well known on the scene yet. It seems like the place you’d go if you wanted to feel important and you had enough money to throw around.”
Evan’s eyes sparkled. “That sounds like Elijah’s place. You got a number for me?”
Abby recited the phone number as Evan typed it in. Everyone waited with bated breath, both fearful this was another dead end and terrified that it wasn’t.
“Hi, there. It’s Elijah. Elijah Snow. And I—” Evan stopped speaking as his lips curved toward his ears. He didn’t even have to say the rest of what he’d prepared. It was clear— whoever was on the other end had already recognized his name.
“That’s right. I was just calling to ask a question about the card I had on file at your establishment,” Evan continued. “But I just found it in my things just now. Yeah. What? The Friday-night party? I already told you I wouldn’t miss that for anything. I’ll see you then, buddy. Thanks a lot.”
Evan hung up the phone and turned his eyes to find Nicole’s. They shared an intimate moment between them, captivated and excited by what Evan had finally managed to do.
“Apparently, there’s a big jazz party Friday night,” Evan said mischievously. “And Elijah has already told them he’s coming.”
“How can we be sure he’ll be there?” Brad asked, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
“We can’t be sure,” Evan returned with a shrug. “But it’s the best plan we have so far.”
“So, what are we going to do? Storm in and demand that he and Conner tell the truth?” Casey asked, incredulous.
They shared a moment of silence. It seemed that every step forward in their scheme revealed more holes in the plot. It was true that they needed some kind of confession. But as they didn’t have any concrete evidence, Brad couldn’t exactly storm in and arrest them.
“We need someone to go in and talk to them,” Heather offered.
“Conner knows almost all of us,” Brittany replied, her nails scratching the edge of her hairline.
Again, silence. Heather scrunched her nose tight, distracted. And a moment later, in the midst of the horrible density of confusion, Luke burst through the front door with a bright, “Hello! Is there any food left over? I smelled it from the driveway.”
Heather’s eyes widened with surprise. She leaped up, her hands widening as she said, “Luke! Your sister! Luke! Your sister!”
“Um. What about my sister?” Luke asked, his smile faltering as he removed his coat.
“A night of jazz! She plays the piano! She’s literally a jazz musician!” Heather cried.
Luke shook his head with a mix of annoyance, confusion, and unquestioned love for the woman before him. “I never have any idea what you’re talking about!”
“I think I have a hunch.” Evan Snow began, his smile crooked. “And to be honest with you, Heather, it’s genius. It really is.”