Aspen Allegations - A Sutton Massachusetts Mystery

Chapter 17

I pushed open the glass doors leading into the Sutton Senior Center, smiling at the holiday wreaths that hung along the walls. The woman at the long, tall white counter to our left waved a greeting as we passed. A small room on the right held Matthew's computer class, and he nodded to us, his calm instruction flowing unabated to a small group of attentive students.

The larger room ahead was perhaps half full, and we spotted Adam immediately at a table by the far wall. Jeff was already there, and both waved us over with welcoming smiles.

Adam stood as I approached, holding out a hand. "So good to see y'all again. I hear you have some progress to report!"

He shook my hand firmly, then Jason's, and we all settled ourselves around the table. I took in a deep breath, then began.

I laid out everything we had learned, from start to finish. Adam and Jeff followed my words eagerly, and both clearly were brimming with questions, but they didn't interrupt. When at last I had finished, Jeff sat back, his eyes round.

"I had no idea at all," he sighed at last, looking between us. "My father had never spoken of that night. I had heard of it, of course. It was a legend at my summer camp – a ghost story the boys would scare each other with. But my father refused to talk about it. After a while I stopped pressing him, and honored his wishes."

Adam nodded in understanding. "Your father didn't want you to think of him in that situation," he explained gently. "He didn't want you to be rowin' along the edges of Singletary, staring at the water, thinking of him reaching for Eileen's hand. He hoped you would be free of the shadows that haunted him."

Jeff shook his head. "Still, it was a burden he carried, and maybe, somehow, I could have helped."

Adam gave a wry smile. "Nothing you could have done would have helped to lighten his load," he gently advised. "Your father was a writer. He felt things with a passion. He was going to carry that grief with him every day."

I leant forward slightly. "Jeff, so you mean all of this was completely new to you? There was nothing even remotely familiar about any of it? Your father never talked about missing money, or why he fell out with his friends, or why they never reconnected when he returned to Sutton?"

Jeff gave a slight shrug. "I'm afraid my father sought to shelter me in many ways. When I asked about his old friends, he simply said they drifted apart and had nothing in common any more." He glanced over at Adam. "He said that Adam was all he needed. The two of them were as thick as thieves."

Adam smiled, and nodded at the compliment. "Your father was an amazing man and I treasured his friendship," he returned. "It is still hard for me to believe he's gone."

I turned to him. "Did he share more of his story with you, perhaps? Was some of this familiar?"

He nodded. "Yes, there were times, after a long night of whiskey and fishin', that he would reminisce some about his youth. He would talk with sadness about the night Eileen drowned, or the demons that drove him to head off into the army." He glanced over at Jeff. "But he always tempered it with the thought that he met your mother because of it, and together they had raised you. He was quite proud of you and all you've achieved."

Jeff looked down for a moment, his eyes misty.

Adam ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing. "Something you said, though, triggered a memory. What was it ..."

Tension drew across my chest. It took an effort for me to stay silent, to let him follow those tenuous wisps of thought backwards in his mind, to reach their source.