Mitch sampled a cookie. It was chewy. It was good. It was very good.
“Don’t be bashful, son,” Sheila said, urging another one on him.
The front page of the yearbook proudly noted that the Dorset Fighting Pilgrims were the 1967 Shoreline Champs, although it did not say of what. “There is pleasure in doing,” was the senior class motto. Sheila began leafing her way through page after page of group photographs, her hands knobby and misshapen. They were photos of neat, well-groomed teenaged girls and sturdy, shorthaired boys, all of them smiling, all of them white. It was a Wonder Bread world that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the roiling, multicultural city that Mitch had grown up in. It was a world as alien to him as Sheila’s rural childhood of dirt roads and one-room schoolhouses.
“That whole bunch is in here somewhere,” the old woman murmured absently. “All except for Redfield, who graduated two years ahead of Dolly. The ambassador and Mrs. Peck tried to enroll her at Miss Porter’s up in Farmington. She didn’t care for it, though. Came back home after one year. Girl’s not happy if she strays too far from the nest. Neither is Bud. They’re two of a kind that way… Ahhh, here they are,” she exclaimed, handing the open book over to Mitch.
There they were, all right, frozen in time for their senior class pictures. There was Dolly Peck, just as Mitch had imagined her-a slender, pretty girl with a nice smile. There was Bud Havenhurst, with his thrusting jaw and air of WASP superiority. And broad-shouldered Tal Bliss, wearing the same crewcut he went to his grave with. And Tuck Weems, who sported slicked-back hair and a somewhat mocking grin. They were all there, alongside thumbnail profiles of their campus accomplishments, complete with inside jokes:
Dolores Sedgewick Peck (Dolly)… “Oh sure!” Prom Queen. Senior class vice president. Varsity field hockey. Civics club. “You’re not going to beleeeve this…!” Most Gullible. Peanuttiest. Pet Peeve: Dislikes grouchy people.
Kinsley Twining Havenhurst (Bud)… “Hey, boy!” Prom King. Senior class president. “Guys, who put the mouse in my briefcase?” Chess club. Debating society. Varsity tennis. Most Likely To Succeed. “Seriously, guys…” Yale bound.
Talmadge Huffman Bliss (Tal)… “Help you across the street, ma’am?” Dudley Do-Right. Never seen without Tuck. Co-captain, basketball varsity. All Shoreline, junior and senior years. Most Courteous. Eagle scout. Vietnam bound.
Tucker Adair Weems (Tuck)… “What are YOU looking at?” Dudley Do-Wrong. Never seen without Tal. Captain, baseball varsity. Co-captain, basketball varsity. All Shoreline, junior and senior years. Best Excuse Maker. “Who said you could sit on my GTO?” Vietnam bound.
Mitch helped himself to another cookie and a sip of milk. “I hadn’t realized that Tal Bliss and Tuck Weems were such close friends,” he observed, leafing his way through the yearbook to the varsity basketball team. There they stood, shoulder to shoulder with their teammates in their Pilgrims jerseys, looking strapping and confident.
“Oh, sure, those two were like Mutt and Jeff when they were growing up,” Sheila recalled, rocking back and forth in her chair. “Two sides of the same coin-one good, one bad. Although Tuck wasn’t really, truly bad. Just wild. Had a troubled home life. Alcoholic mother, abusive father. He hated them both. Loved his fast cars and his nasty reputation.” She gazed out at the waterfall for a moment. “The girls went crazy over Tuck. Why, he could charm them right out of their knickers without so much as a wink. Poor Tal, he was always the shy one.”
“Did the two of them stay good friends through the years?”
“Yessir, they did,” Sheila replied, nodding. “Never did let Dolly come between them.”
Mitch gazed at the old woman intently. “What about Dolly?”
“Now that one is an interesting story,” she replied, munching on a cookie. “You see, from day one Dolly’s socially correct beau was always Bud Havenhurst.” Sheila’s voice dripped with scorn at the mention of his name. “Her folks liked Bud. Bud was the ‘right’ sort. Decent and upstanding. You ask me, he was about as thrilling as a bowl of my warm tapioca pudding-”
“Wait, you make your own tapioca pudding?”
“Been known to,” she said, her eyes twinkling at him with amusement. “Why, do you like tapioca, Mr. Berger?”
“Like isn’t a strong enough word for it,” replied Mitch, who was drooling just at the thought of it. “But I interrupted you. You were telling me about Bud.”
“A weasel from the word go,” she stated firmly. “I never have trusted him with my personal affairs-and I don’t care where he went to law school. Young Dolly, she liked him well enough. But she was mad for Tuck Weems. Crazy in love. Tuck was everything Bud wasn’t. He was the son of hired help. He was rude. He was greasy. He was Dolly’s walk on the wild side.”
“And how did Tuck feel about her?”
“Couldn’t be bothered with her,” Sheila replied. “Not when most every other girl in town would do whatever he asked, if you understand what I’m saying. A few married women, too, or so it was said. Dolly just wasn’t his type. Too proper. But Dolly would not take no for an answer. This was a girl who was used to getting her way. She chased after him shamelessly. And made Bud insane with jealousy. Some said Tuck went to Vietnam just to get away from that girl. Not me, though. It was to get away from his folks.” Sheila broke off, her face darkening. “After they died, he became much more sullen and withdrawn. The war may have had a little something to do with that, too. And the drugs. He used them heavily, I’m told. Lived up at the lake. Went his own way. Dolly, she settled down with Bud. And eventually she talked Tuck into coming back to work out on Big Sister, which folks in town thought was real kind of her. And maybe Tuck did have some feelings for her after all. Tal did mention to me that Tuck was none too happy about the way Niles Seymour was treating her.”
“I wouldn’t expect Tal was too pleased about it either.”
Sheila eyed Mitch shrewdly. “You’re right, of course. A crying shame if you ask me. That poor man could have made some nice girl a good husband. He would have been a fine father. He just loved kids to death. But no, he just hung on and waited for Dolly. And waited and waited.”
“She’s a pretty special lady.”
Sheila glanced at him in surprise. “Do you really think so?”
“Don’t you?”
“Don’t take my word for anything, Mr. Berger. I’m just a buggy old woman. But do take a good look at the evil that has happened around that woman. Look at how many lives have been ruined. Ask yourself how that happens. Ask yourself why.”
“I’ve been asking myself a lot of things lately,” Mitch confessed. “What I don’t seem to have are many answers.”
Mitch did have a theory of sorts-that the resident trooper had flown into a jealous rage when he found out that Niles Seymour was two-timing his beloved Dolly with Torry. Possibly, he had confronted Seymour over it. Possibly, a fight had broken out that led to Bliss using a gun on him. Possibly, Bliss had then eliminated Torry so she wouldn’t start asking questions around town. This would explain why Seymour was buried on Big Sister Island while she was murdered at the Laurel Brook Reservoir in Meriden. Bliss may have lured her there with the promise of a message from Seymour. Then, to cover his tracks, he had made it look like the two of them had run away together- the Dear John letter, airline reservations and so on. That much added up.
But the murder of Tuck Weems did not. Mitch hadn’t the slightest idea why Tal Bliss had lured his best friend down to the beach in the rain and shot him. No one did.
“I still can’t believe Tal did it,” Sheila spoke up suddenly. “I guess I can’t accept it either, because he was such a good, caring man. He drove me to church every Sunday. Picked up my groceries for me. Fixed things around the place. Never asked if they needed doing. Just did them. He was also, and I don’t mean this in a negative way, not very imaginative. He was more what you’d a call a point A to point B sort of a fellow. I think that’s why he enjoyed spending so much time in the kitchen. He had his instructions all laid out in front of him and as long as he followed them, step by step, something good would come out of it. Something that would make other people happy. What I mean to say is…” Sheila paused, considering her next words carefully. “I don’t believe Tal could have dreamt this whole scheme up all by himself.”
“Are you suggesting that he and Tuck might have been in on it together”
Sheila beat a hasty retreat. “Oh, I wouldn’t know about that. And I am not one to speculate about the dead. It’s just that Tal got to be like family to me. I like to think I knew him. And one thing he would never do was court
