Cherry Orphan

Chapter 1

Cherry Orphan Act One

Chapter 1 

England, Late Spring 1984

Arlene walked into Henry Silverman's Wimbledon office and handed him a file folder. He nodded a mute thanks and immediately began a perusal of the contents.

Arlene interrupted the silence. "The Nameth boy should be here shortly."

Silverman tore his eyes away from the first sheet. "Show him right in when he arrives. And, Arlene, I don't want any interruptions while he's here. I don't care who it is."

His legal secretary shook her head. "Such a terrible thing to happen. What must the poor boy be feeling?"

"We'll know soon enough. I have to arrange the guardianship issues before anything else. This firm represented his parents even before you joined me—many years. It's a tragedy that need not have happened."

The office door closed and Silverman leaned back in his chair. The police accident report spelled things out in such clinical terms, but Silverman could read between the official lines.

In the violent 70 MPH head-on crash both vehicles became one. Janet Nameth, the driver of the Austin Mini, and her husband, Barry were killed instantly—before they had time to scream.

Another man, Clifford Pearlman, also died at the wheel of his Bedford van when the Mini inexplicably plowed through marker bollards straight into oncoming traffic, which by cruel fate happened to be his vehicle in the ultimate wrong place at the wrong time. According to the report he'd been driving for 46 years without sustaining so much as a paint scratch.

Silverman glanced at the autopsy report on Janet Nameth. It revealed an alcohol-saturated bloodstream in excess of .23, approximately three times the legal limit. He nodded to himself. Janet, without doubt, had been plastered for the umpteenth and final time—both figuratively and literally—when the Pearlman Bedford compacted the compact car. The wine wholesaler in Acton meant they always took the convenient M4 on their regular monthly excursion to replenish bar stock. It happened along a five-mile construction section near Heston, where temporary flexible posts provided the only barriers separating oncoming traffic. Police commented on the reduced speed signs that seemed to be universally ignored by everyone.

A closed casket funeral had taken place at a cemetery near Egham Surrey, only minutes from The Cock and Fox, a pub the Nameth family owned in the town of Staines, a quiet western suburb of London. Despite the urge, Silverman felt his attendance would be seen as inappropriate and had not attended. He began to shake his head slowly at the recollections.

He'd known Barry Nameth suffered from a long history of heart trouble. At forty-three the publican looked much older and didn't take care as someone with a congenital heart murmur should. The report raised some speculation Barry may have taken a turn for the worse that day.

Whatever the reason, Janet had been at the wheel when the Nameth car crossed the median, accelerator to the floor, ending three lives faster than a blowing fuse.

It left orphaned their only child, James Nameth. He'd been attending boarding school when the news came. The private boy's school came expensive, but the pub made decent profit, allowing James to theoretically reap the benefit.

According to the headmaster's report, James took the news well and put a brave face, yet Silverman suspected inside he'd be devastated. James adored his father who seemed altogether untypical of the publican-landlord stereotype. Barry introduced the boy to a world of books and adventure he could never experience firsthand. Together they were escapists, devising plots and escapades as if Barry were reliving his childhood again through James.