them was a boy. But John J. was the sort who did care. Anyhow, along comes World War Two and John J. gets himself declared 4-F. Bum knee, supposedly. Though it never kept him off of the squash court. The man kept right on living the high life at Four Chimneys while other good men fought and died. His family’s steel mills didn’t make out too badly, either, but don’t get me started on that. Ed Kershaw got sent to the Pacific. Bessie stayed on as maid and cook. She gave birth to Milo just before Ed shipped out in ’42. Me, I was in high school during the wartime years. I can remember Bessie well. She was no raving beauty, but she was a healthy young woman. Her husband was overseas for two years. And she was alone in that big house with John J. whenever Aunt Katherine went into New York to visit friends.” Rut let out a long, regretful sigh. “Mitch, there’s two different versions of how it happened. One’s that he got drunk and forced himself on Bessie. The other’s that the two of them were romantically involved. I’m inclined to believe the latter myself. Anyhow, I don’t have to tell you what happened next, do I?”
“I guess not. You’re telling me that Pete Mosher was the son of John J. Meier and Bessie Kershaw.”
“Their bastard child-to use a not-so-quaint old expression.”
Mitch sat there turning this over. “So that would have made Pete…”
“Poochie’s brother,” Rut said, snuffling through his nose. “Half-brother, to be technical. But if you swivel around and look at it another way, he was also half-brother to Milo. Pete was related to them both. He belonged-or I should say, didn’t belong-to both families. Next you’ll be asking me if Poochie and Milo knew about this.”
“Did they?”
“Of course they did. That’s why Milo nurses such a grudge toward that entire clan. Mind you, he also took an intense personal dislike to Poochie’s husband, Coleman Vickers, who wasn’t even on the scene yet. But the roots of Milo’s animosity go back to John J. and what he did to Bessie. Give Milo half a chance and he’ll still curse that man up, down and sideways.”
“What happened once Bessie got pregnant?”
“When she got big enough to show, Bessie went away for several weeks to tend to a sick aunt up in Glastonbury. That was the cover story, anyhow. She did have an aunt up there. A Mosher who was a retired nurse. Bessie stayed with her until little Pete was born. Milo, who was still a toddler himself, went along with her. After she gave birth, Bessie came right back to work at Four Chimneys. The aunt agreed to raise the baby for her. John J. made sure Pete’s financial needs were seen to. And nobody was any the wiser. By nobody I’m referring to Bessie’s husband, Ed, when he came back from the war a year later.”
“What about your Aunt Katherine, Rut? Did she know?”
“In those days, women like Aunt Katherine didn’t ask any questions they didn’t want to know the answers to.”
“Meaning she looked the other way?”
“Meaning there was an unspoken understanding that men like John J. kept a private life. And what was private stayed private. He’d wanted a son. Aunt Katherine couldn’t give him one. Knowing her like I did, she more than likely took it as a failing on her own part that John J. bedded Bessie. Katherine was always inclined to doubt herself.” The old postmaster drank the last of his stout, crossing his chubby ankles on the footstool before him. “Ed Kershaw put away his uniform and came back to work at Four Chimneys. Bessie’s aunt raised the baby. And everything was fine. Until, that is, Bessie’s aunt upped and died a few years later. Little Pete turned up here in town with the Millers. They took in a lot of charity cases. They also happened to live right across the street from Bessie and Ed. Hell, Pete and Milo even became playmates. But then Milo started hearing all of the whispers. Little kids repeat what they hear their parents saying, and they were saying that Bessie had had another man’s son during the war. Apparently, somebody saw her up in Glastonbury while she was showing. Wasn’t too hard to figure out who this other man was either-Pete was the spitting image of John J. Same blue eyes. Same long, bony nose. Poor Pete heard the whispers, too. He knew that his own mother was living right there across the street from him and wouldn’t so much as acknowledge him.”
“Ed must have heard the whispers, too, right?”
“You bet. He wouldn’t believe them at first, not until some friend or another set him straight.”
“And what did he do?”
“First, he took it out on Bessie,” Rut recalled sadly. “Beat that woman until she was black and blue. Then he went looking for John J. with a shotgun. Our local lawman headed him off and locked him up until he’d cooled off. Ed had no choice but to cool off. John J. was a rich, powerful man. Ed was the hired help. So he swallowed his pride and kept on working for him and kept on beating Bessie senseless. Never, ever forgave her. When little Milo tried to stop him, Ed beat him, too. Which should tell you something about why Milo turned out the way he did. Mitch, I’ve always felt a special kind of sorry for that woman. Not once was she allowed to show Pete a mother’s love. You can’t tell me that didn’t have something to do with Pete’s troubles later on. It certainly destroyed her. All she was left with was her shame and the beatings that Ed gave her. Poor woman took her own life in, let’s see, I think it was ’52. Drank a whole bottle of insect poison. Milo found her on the kitchen floor one day when he came home from school.” Rut shook his head disgustedly. “Awful business. After that, Ed had to raise Milo on his own. And live with his own shame.”
“What happened to Pete?”
“John. I shipped him off to an English boarding school. That’s where Pete did his growing up.”
“Where did he spend his adult life?”
“Haven’t a clue, Mitch. I never heard another peep about him.”
“Did he and Poochie have any kind of a relationship?”
“None, as far as I know. Poochie was a good ten years older than Pete, don’t forget. She was already away at Smith by the time he came to live with the Millers. But she was aware of the gossip from the get go, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not that the two of us have ever discussed Pete. My mom’s the one who told me this.”
“Did she say how Poochie handled the news?”
“Poochie never felt quite the same way toward her father after that. Steered plenty clear of him once she was old enough to. Settled in New York, not Dorset. When she married the Ambassador they lived in Washington, Paris, London-again, never Dorset. Not until John J. and Katherine had retired to Hobe Sound full-time. Only then did Poochie and Coleman move into Four Chimneys. Claudia was a teenager by then. Prettiest thing you ever saw. Quite the little flirt, too, though you’d never know it now. Eric, he was a scrawny little bookworm.”
“Did the two of them know Pete’s real identity?”
“Don’t believe so. I’m good friends with Eric and he’s never seemed the slightest bit curious about Pete. And I’ve never raised the subject. Don’t believe a man has any business telling a son about the sins of his father. Besides, this whole thing between John J. and Bessie happened over sixty years ago. It’s ancient history.”
“Maybe not so ancient, Rut,” Mitch said quietly.
Rut shot a glance at him but left it alone. Just sat there, clutching his empty beer glass.
“Did Milo ever come to feel any kinship toward Pete?”
“None,” Rut answered. “And it bugged the living hell out of him when Pete showed up here again a few years back. Every time Milo saw him peddling that bicycle of his down the street he’d see their mother lying dead on the kitchen floor. Milo told me so himself.”
“I understand that Pete left quite a bit of money behind.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. John J. probably laid a trust fund on him.”
“Would Milo know about that? I’m asking because as Pete’s half-brother he’d be in a position to inherit. Or at least think he was entitled to.”
“You can bet he’d think that,” Rut said. “If Milo knows, he’s never said so to me. But I can guarantee you it would drive him nuts if Pete had himself a bag full of John J.’s money. Milo still feels that family owes him something after the set-to he had with Coleman Vickers. Only, there’s one thing I’d like to say on Milo’s behalf-the man’s nine-tenths talk. He was a loud-mouthed little yipper growing up, and he’s never changed. Sure, he’s made his mistakes. But he’s not nearly as bad as people think. Neither are Stevie and Donnie. Okay, they’re not the sharpest knives in the drawer. But cold-blooded and rotten to the core? I don’t think so.”
The low March sun passed behind the trees, darkening the parlor significantly. Rut reached over and flicked on the lamp next to him.
“You don’t think the brothers are behind Pete’s death, is that it? What do you think happened to Pete?”
“I think this’ll turn out to be what this kind of business is usually about.”
Mitch found himself leaning forward in his chair. “Which is?…”
