Page 17 of Alibi for Murder (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #2)

Durham Residence

Steve would be the first to say that his family had never been the country club type, no matter what their address said about them.

Martha, his mother, appreciated a nice home in a nice neighborhood that came with a good school district—no question about that.

Quentin, his father, had gladly worked extra hard to see that his wife had the dream house she so wanted as they started their family.

The tri-level brick was far larger than they needed now that they were nearing retirement age, but they both loved the neighborhood so much neither would budge on downsizing.

His mom insisted they were waiting on a smaller home in the same neighborhood to become available.

Steve didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

It was that sort of neighborhood: people came and they put down permanent roots.

In the end, the decision to stay put turned out to be the right one when his older by two years sister, Amanda, ended up getting divorced and moving into the lower level with her two kids.

His mom could not be happier. The kids were in serious heaven because Nana and Papa rarely said no to any request.

For their special guest this evening, Steve’s father had set up a buffet on the kitchen island. Everyone grabbed a plate, took a stroll around the island and filled it as they went. Then it was on to the dining room, where wine, water and lemonade for the boys waited.

When Steve had been a kid, both sets of grandparents were still alive, and his parents had believed in having a table large enough for the whole family to be together, thus the table for twelve.

Amanda and her kids sat on one side, Steve and Allie on the other with his parents at the ends.

A family gathering was a nice change of pace.

He hoped the camaraderie would help Allie relax a little after the intense forty-eight hours she’d endured.

Either way, the food smelled great, and Steve felt confident Allie was as hungry as he was.

He was glad for once his sister and her kids appeared focused on eating rather than arguing about who got to pick the after-dinner movie.

With boys, one eight and one ten, getting through a meal without a battle was sometimes difficult, especially in the summer when there was no homework or time at school to have worn them out.

“Your mother and I were friends when we were kids,” Quentin said to Allie.

She smiled. “Be careful, Mr. Durham, or I’ll be asking you questions about her all night.”

“Call me Quentin, please. As for questions, ask anything you’d like.”

Allie nodded. “Quentin.”

Steve cut into his steak, grateful that Allie appeared comfortable with his family.

Family was important to him. He couldn’t imagine being totally alone.

That had to be difficult for her sometimes.

As sure of that as he was, he hadn’t missed how strong and seemingly resilient she was. He liked that about her.

Frankly, he liked a lot of things about her.

“Well,” his mother spoke up, “I can tell you that Alice was a very nice woman who never met a stranger. When Quentin and I first married, I was a stranger to the neighborhood. I knew no one. Your mother went out of her way to be kind to me. Your grandmother too. Another lovely lady. And you should call me Martha.” She flashed that signature smile of hers—the one that said everything was okay as long as you were here with her.

Steve was fairly certain he lacked any measure of objectivity, but his mother’s smile was the kind that really could heal those wounds that couldn’t be seen.

“Martha,” Allie said. “Thank you. Do you recall much about my parents during the time just before the accident?”

Steve had known that question would be coming. “We spoke with someone,” he explained before one or the other of his parents could respond, “who suggested there might have been issues with Allie’s father and his work at Ledwell.”

Quentin made a harrumphing sound. “Anyone involved with Ledwell generally had issues, particularly during that timeframe.”

“How so?” Allie lowered her fork rather than taking the bite of salad there. She leaned slightly forward…intent on whatever words he planned to convey.

Quentin shared a glance with Martha. This look was also something Steve knew well.

Did they say what was on their minds, or did they let it go?

That brief, silent exchange was the pause they used to measure the worth of one decision over the other.

The couple had been together so long they had this ability to communicate without words.

Steve couldn’t help wondering if it was even possible to develop that kind of relationship these days. How amazing it must be to have that level of closeness.

“I don’t mean to spoil this lovely dinner,” Allie said when no one spoke, her cheeks flushing. “It’s just important. Really important. At least to me.”

“Of course it is.” Martha reached out and gave Allie’s hand a kind pat.

“There were rumors,” Quentin said finally. “Rumors of bad things happening at Ledwell. The sort of things you might see in a science-fiction movie.”

“Or a horror film,” Martha put in. She shook her head.

“There were protests outside the facility. People were spreading all sorts of frightening stories. It really was a scary time. That year—when your parents’ accident happened—was particularly tumultuous.

A number of employees had freak accidents—at home, not at work.

One woman suffered a lethal electrical shock from her coffeemaker.

Another man had an accident while fishing.

They say he fell out of his boat and wasn’t able to climb back in—yet he was a seasoned fisherman who always used a boat. ”

“And others,” Quentin pointed out. “Obviously we can’t say how your father felt about any of this or where he stood with the company. We can only say how concerned many in the community were about the company in general.”

“It was an uncertain time,” Martha agreed.

“Ledwell employees and their families felt isolated—your mother told me this. They were looked upon as being culpable because of their employment. Alice said she couldn’t go to the market without feeling as though everyone was staring at her with suspicion.

Judging her for the company’s perceived wrongs. It was a truly difficult period.”

“Did you speak at length with her,” Allie probed, “about her concerns? Did she say anything that may have led you to believe she was afraid?”

Martha stared at her plate for a moment. Steve hadn’t considered how difficult this might be for his parents, his mother in particular. He was aware his parents had known Allie’s parents…but maybe there was more they’d never said out loud before.

“The last time I spoke with her—” Martha lifted her gaze to Allie’s “—Alice mentioned that she was very worried about her husband. She wouldn’t say why, but I could tell she was, as you say, afraid.”

“After the accident,” Quentin picked up from there, “no one would talk about it. No one. Those of us not involved with Ledwell had no idea there was anything to talk about other than the tragedy of it and all the rumors buzzing around. Even twenty odd years later, we still don’t for that matter.

But when Steve told us you had concerns, Martha and I started to think back.

There was something wrong about the whole situation related to that accident and the others that happened, but there’s not a single comment, rumor, certainly not a headline I can put my finger on to explain the feeling.

It was just a sudden series of blunt traumas that left a gaping hole in the community, and then it was as if it never happened.

As if none of it ever occurred. In time, people stopped talking about it. ”

The way Allie’s eyes shone now, Steve worried she was on the verge of tears.

“Did the two of you,” Steve asked his father, “have a chance to talk about the Madison child and what happened to him?”

Bringing up yet another tragic accident at the dinner table felt necessarily improper under the circumstances.

Steve couldn’t get past the fact that after leaving Mrs. Talbert, they’d found nothing online about the child’s death.

No obit. No headline. Not one mention. It was beyond strange.

It was almost as if any record of the child and his death had been scrubbed from the internet.

If Steve wasn’t fully aware that it was possible to do exactly that, he would think the notion was a little on the unreasonable side.

But it was possible. It had been done more times than the average person realized. There were services available for the right price to make just about anything go away.

“We weren’t really acquainted with the Madisons,” Steve’s father said.

“We knew Alice and Jerry primarily because she and I grew up in the same school district. Our parents were friends. But Alice did talk to Martha a few days after it happened.” He turned to his wife.

“I remember you were quite upset about the conversation.”

Martha nodded. “Alice told me about it. She and I were both flabbergasted that there was nothing in the paper after…what happened. Nothing at all. We discussed the idea that perhaps the Madisons had managed to keep it quiet to avoid all the painful drama. But I don’t think Alice believed that.

I know I didn’t. I firmly believed that it was Ledwell’s doing.

It felt like they wanted to avoid any and all bad press no matter the circumstances.

I didn’t see her again for months.” She frowned.

“Maybe closer to a year. I remember it was only a few weeks before their accident. She seemed distracted and worried. Unsettled. I wish I had tried harder to find out what was going on.”

Allie smiled, her lips trembling with the effort. “You couldn’t have known. No one could have.”