Chapter 10.

10.

After the sun went down, a waitress came around and lit the candles in the center of our table. We’d all shuffled to new seats to change conversation partners. Now Errol was seated beside Abigail and explaining how the Miracle Battery functioned while Tammy spoke with Maggie and Aidan about their upcoming honeymoon in Spain; they were planning to spend two weeks in the north country, to avoid the sweltering summer temperatures. Aidan had left his cell phone resting face down on the table, and I’d moved close enough to toss my red-and-white napkin on top of it. Then I looked around to make sure no one was watching, and I deftly slid his phone off the table and into my lap.

I excused myself to use the restroom, then walked around Osprey Lodge to the main entrance. Inside the foyer was a long line of women waiting to use the powder room. A few of them smiled at my arrival, and I smiled back before starting up the stairs. I imagine they thought I had every right to be there, as a houseguest of my future in-laws. I climbed to the third floor and returned to the hallway where Gwendolyn had found me. If you still haven’t met Catherine Gardner , she had warned me, then you don’t know anything .

I walked to the door of the master suite and knocked.

“Mrs. Gardner? Hello?”

There was no answer. I pressed Aidan’s phone to the black sensor panel, and with a gentle click the door unlocked. I pushed it open, revealing a short, dark hallway. At the far end were flickers of blue and white light, and faint sounds of a studio audience cheering and applauding. Behind me, the door swung shut, and I heard the churn of the electronic dead bolt cranking back into place.

I took a step forward and my foot sank into something soft. It was fabric, some kind of blouse. There were clothes all over the floor—dresses and sweaters, skirts and slacks, enough pieces to outfit a dozen women. I stepped lightly through the clutter. “Hello? Is anybody here?”

As I followed the passage, I became aware of an odor—a sour, pungent bouquet that smelled like the back of a garbage truck. The hallway ended and I found myself in an empty bedroom. It was too dark to see very much. All the curtains were drawn and the only light came from a large flat-screen television playing Family Feud . “We asked one hundred Americans: name a food that reminds you of the human body.” A contestant buzzed in with “Banana!” and the audience went wild, cheering and applauding and stamping their feet while the host pretended to keel over in shock, like he never saw it coming.

Women’s clothing was everywhere, strewn across the floor and most of the furniture. All the items looked new and never worn; most still had their tags attached, and a few were still sealed in plastic bags. There were so many outfits piled on the sofa, I nearly overlooked the person seated among them. She wore the same white bathrobe that all the guests had in their cottages—but hers was mottled with brown and yellow stains, and she’d neglected to close it all the way.

I’d seen photographs of Catherine Gardner online. She was an elegant, smartly dressed woman who sat on the board of Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts—and this person scarcely resembled her. She was alarmingly thin, almost skeletal, and her makeup looked like it had been applied by a child. Her cheeks were plastered with a fleshy paste that didn’t match the color of her ears or neck. And her eyes were ringed with pink shadow that looked like a bacterial infection. She watched the television with a blank expression, not seeming to comprehend a word of it.

The game show host was cheerfully greeting family members and then repeated the survey question to an elderly grandmother: “Name a food that reminds you of the human body.”

“Eggplant!” she shrieked, to the cheers of the crowd, while the host reeled in astonishment, staggering around the set like he’d been punched in the face. And still Catherine Gardner showed no reaction. I had to move between her and the screen before she finally registered my presence. In a quiet voice she asked, “Where’s Aidan?”

I could scarcely hear her over the cheers of the studio audience. “He’s downstairs, Mrs. Gardner.”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“My name is Frank Szatowksi.”

“You’re not supposed to be here. I’m calling my son.”

Then she reached into the piles of clothing, burrowing under the garments in search of a phone.

“My daughter is marrying Aidan tomorrow,” I told her. “I’m Margaret’s father.”

She stopped searching for her phone and reached for a table lamp, switching it on to get a better look at me. “Of course you are. I see the resemblance now. But where are my manners?”

Suddenly she was pushing herself off the sofa, making a wobbly attempt to stand up. The folds of her robe fell open, leaving her naked and frail body completely exposed. With a sweep of her arms, she pushed all the clothes off the sofa, clearing a space for me.

“Would you like to sit down?”

I forced myself to hold eye contact. “Do you need some help with your robe?”

Catherine looked down and then laughed at the oversight, like I’d just pointed out that her shoelace was untied. She pulled her robe tight and clumsily knotted the belt. “You must think I’m a terrible hostess. Let me turn down the television.” She reached for the remote to lower the volume but didn’t seem to understand she was holding it the wrong way. I offered to do it for her and turned the volume all the way down. “Oh, that’s kind of you, Frank. Now please sit down so I can serve you something. I won’t feel right until you let me.”

I perched on the edge of the sofa, and she brought over two tumblers and a bottle of Tanqueray. With trembling hands, she poured the glasses full of gin. No ice, no lime, just pure colorless alcohol all the way to the rim. Then she sat beside me and lifted her glass, spilling much of the alcohol down the side and over her hand and wrist. “To Margaret,” she said. “A wonderful young woman.”

Her toast was interrupted by a high-pitched pinging. I realized the sound was coming from Aidan’s phone—it was emitting some kind of siren to help the owner recover it. No doubt he’d discovered it was missing, and now he was trying to find it. I pressed every button on the surface of the device until it finally went silent.

“I hope you’ll forgive the clutter,” Catherine continued, and she gestured to the piles of tangled clothing at our feet. “It’s impossible to do any shopping here in the wilderness, so I buy all my clothes online. But that makes sizing tricky. There’s endless trial and error. I just want to look nice for the big day.”

In the span of just a minute or so, she’d shaken off her stupor to become a lively, animated hostess. She sat across the coffee table from me and took both my hands, like she was afraid I might try to leave. “I’m sorry for hiding away all weekend. The doctors say I need to ration my strength. But now that you’re here, is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’d love to ask you about my son-in-law, if that’s okay. The wedding’s tomorrow, and I still don’t know him very well.”

At the mention of her son, Catherine brightened.

“He’s my favorite subject. You can ask me anything you like. I’m an open book.”

“I want to know about the rumors. And Dawn Taggart.”

She released her grip on my hands and sank back into her chair. “Well, that’s totally understandable. I know what her family’s saying about him. But I assure you, he never laid a finger on that girl. He’s very gentle. Very sensitive. And he’ll be a loyal and faithful husband. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I met with Linda Taggart this afternoon.”

“That woman’s a fool.”

“You may be right about Aidan, but I don’t think Linda Taggart is a fool. I think she’s just confused.”

“How so?”

“Linda Taggart made a habit of snooping on her daughter. She’d track the location of her phone. So she knew Dawn was coming here to Osprey Cove. That’s a fact. Dawn Taggart was visiting someone here at the camp. And bringing home all kinds of jewelry and expensive gifts, so she had to explain where everything was coming from. So she told her mother she was seeing Aidan Gardner. She even photoshopped a picture of the two of them together. Dawn invented a relationship because she was too embarrassed to tell her mother the truth.”

“Which is?”

“Dawn was having an affair with a married man.”

Catherine smiled and nodded, the way a tutor might encourage a student who is making progress in the right direction. “That’s very good, Frank,” she said. “You must be a very perceptive person.”

“I need to know the truth. Did Errol do something to Dawn Taggart?”

“My husband? Oh, no, Errol would never hurt anyone. Not with his own hands, at least. But now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have a second cocktail.”

I hadn’t realized that she’d finished the first. With shaking hands she lifted the bottle and refilled her glass before continuing: “My husband has some very old-fashioned ideas about men and women. He keeps them to himself, because these days you have to be so careful. With the internet and everything. But if you get a few drinks in him, he’ll tell you his theories. Errol believes that men are incapable of monogamy. He believes that men—especially wealthy and powerful men—have an evolutionary imperative to mate with as many women as possible. He insists they all do it, all the titans of industry. Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, all your movie stars, all your NFL quarterbacks, and of course all your politicians.” Catherine shrugged. “I wonder, Frank, if you think he’s right?”

I told her I did not. I felt certain there had to be plenty of wealthy and powerful men who didn’t cheat on their spouses—but when she pressed me for an example, I couldn’t think of a single one. Tom Hanks, probably? Jimmy Carter? Mister Rogers?

“Well, if my husband had any sense at all, he would use an escort service. That’s what all his friends do. That’s how our lawyer Gerry met his twenty-one-year-old bride. These services will deliver beautiful young women anywhere in the world—even here to Hopps Ferry. But my husband hates paying for it. He likes the thrill of the chase. He needs it to feel like a conquest—the more illicit and forbidden, the better. There have been dozens of women, Frank. Maybe even hundreds. I’ve no idea. I lost track of how many times I’ve been tested for venereal diseases—about the most humiliating procedure you can imagine.” She reached toward the end table for a half-empty bowl of cereal, a mass of soggy brown flakes in an inch of tepid milk. “Forgive me for eating, but you caught me in the middle of supper. What was I saying?”

“How did your husband meet Dawn Taggart?”

“Well, now, that’s an interesting story. One evening last summer, Dawn came to Osprey Cove looking for Aidan. My son had already taken her out to dinner, because she’d helped him change his tire. But one date was enough for Aidan. He didn’t want any more to do with the birdbrain. Now, my husband, on the other hand, he was happy to welcome a pretty young thing into the camp and give her a tour. Aidan and I were back in Boston at the time; we had no idea what was happening.” She slurped another spoonful of cereal, and I looked down at my lap so I wouldn’t have to watch her eat. “And I suppose he liked having her around, because she’d come visit anytime he had the camp to himself. Just your classic sugar daddy–gold digger scenario. She’d show up with frilly lingerie and he’d send her home with laptops and Tiffany bracelets.”

Catherine held up one finger, gesturing for me to hold that thought, and a stream of thin brown liquid spewed from her lips, spilling over her chin and spattering into the bowl of milk. It was all over in a moment and then she studied my expression, trying to see if I’d noticed. If I hadn’t reacted, I think she might have just proceeded with her story. But the smell of vomit rocked me back in the sofa and she apologized.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes.” Then more brown sludge gurgled out of her mouth and she held the bowl under her chin to collect it all. She motioned with her finger that she was okay, that she just needed another moment. After she’d finished gagging and she’d cleared her throat, she pushed the bowl of milky vomit to the far end of the table, so we wouldn’t have it resting between us.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Don’t patronize me, Frank. I said I was fine. Now, the problem with Dawn Taggart is that eventually my husband got tired of her. He found some new flavor of the month and decided to say bye-bye to Birdbrain. And that’s when she springs her big surprise: Guess who’s having a baby? And guess who wants child support? She must have felt like she hit the Powerball. She called Aidan and told him first. Said she wanted to talk to me instead of my husband. She claimed that only another mother could see the situation clearly and make things right.”

Errol was away on business in Singapore, so Aidan and Catherine were unable to confer with him. They drove from Boston to Osprey Cove on the morning of November 3 and arrived at the camp just before noon. It was a Saturday deep in the offseason, so Hugo was the only person working on the property, and they knew they could count on his discretion.

“I hated the idea of welcoming this girl into my home, but I brought her into Errol’s office and she showed me her pregnancy test. And then she shared her list of demands, like Christmas was coming and she could name everything she wanted. Money for rent because the baby needed a place to live. Money for utilities, for clothes, for groceries. Gas for her car. A college savings fund. And then she tallied up all the numbers and hit me with the total: forty-five grand a year. I just about died! This girl had no concept of money, no idea what Errol and I were actually worth. Last year, I gave one-point-four million to an aquarium! For a jellyfish exhibit! I’ve got forty-five grand in pennies at the bottom of my purse. But this girl was so entitled, so disrespectful, I turned her down on principle. I said I didn’t give charity to whores.” Her voice was shaking, and each new detail seemed to wound her, like she was cutting out pieces of her heart. “I suppose that’s when things got a little out of hand.”

Now Aidan’s phone was ringing—I could feel it buzzing in my pocket—but I just urged Catherine to continue. “Dawn started listing all the things my husband liked to do to her. Really vile and unpleasant things, with my grown son seated right beside me. It was horribly inappropriate and I asked her to stop but she just kept going. She was determined to hurt me and hurt me and hurt me until I agreed to pay. And finally I couldn’t take any more. I grabbed the closest thing I could find—this little fuel cell Errol keeps near his desk, it looks like a water bottle—and I bopped her on the head.”

“You bopped her on the head?”

Catherine nodded. “Just a couple taps to remind her who she was talking to.” She pantomimed like she was hammering a nail. “Bop-bop-bop. ‘Shut up, you stupid whore.’”

There was a loud knock at the bedroom door. Someone in the hallway was calling Catherine’s name, but I urged her to finish the story.

“Well, that’s pretty much the end of it. Aidan grabbed the fuel cell away from me and of course Birdbrain didn’t know what hit her. There was blood in her hair, running down the front of her face, so of course she got upset. Aidan went after her, tried to calm her down, but now he’s holding the fuel cell, so she panicked. She ran out to the stairs and then it was whoopsy-daisy and bang-bang-bang all the way down.” Catherine shrugged, as if to suggest these sorts of things happened all the time. “At the end of the day, she was a victim of her own clumsiness. I certainly don’t take the blame for what happened.”

I wasn’t sure a jury would agree with her, but I could hear the dead bolt turning as someone unlocked the door, and I realized there was only time for one more question: “Does my daughter know any of this?”

Catherine laughed. “Oh, Frank! You missed the whole point of the story! Or maybe I told it wrong? Did I leave out the part with Margaret?”

“Yes! What do you mean?”

I never found out. Hugo rushed into the bedroom, followed by Aidan and a middle-aged woman in nursing scrubs. “Mr. Szatowski, you really shouldn’t be here,” he said. “We told you Mrs. Gardner isn’t feeling well.”

I ignored him and kept my eyes trained on Catherine. “Please just answer me. What’s the part with Margaret?”

“Your daughter is a blessing.” The nurse was already rolling up Catherine’s sleeve and giving her an injection and within seconds her eyelids were fluttering. She said, “We’d be lost without her,” and then she was gone. The nurse proceeded to tend to her with a well-practiced efficiency while Hugo ushered me out into the hallway and Aidan followed behind us.

“Mrs. Gardner is very ill,” Hugo said.

“Yes, I can see the migraines have taken a real toll on her. Or maybe she’s had a complete and total mental breakdown.”

“All good reasons to ignore what you just heard,” Hugo said. “She’s in a very fragile place. Her memories are not reliable.”

“She remembers Dawn Taggart falling down the stairs and cracking her skull. Was that reliable?”

Aidan started to answer but Hugo interrupted him: “We have no idea what happened to Dawn Taggart. We’ve already shared our surveillance video with the police, and there’s no indication that she ever visited Osprey Cove. Her disappearance is a terrible tragedy, and we extend our thoughts and prayers to her family and the entire community. Now, I need to know if you’re comfortable with that explanation, Mr. Szatowski. And when you answer that question, I need you to be very convincing.”

“My answer depends on Maggie.” I turned to look at her fiancé. “She’s obviously lying to protect you. But does she know the truth? Did you tell her what really happened?”

Aidan nodded. “Margaret knows everything. We should have been more honest with you, but she worried you wouldn’t understand.”

And I didn’t understand, because this new information made their entire relationship look like a sham. “She said she met you on Halloween. At a costume party. And then three days later, she agreed to lie to the police on your behalf? How does that happen?”

“No more questions,” Hugo said. “Let’s go find Mr. Gardner, and then we’ll have this conversation together.”

“ You find Mr. Gardner,” Aidan told him. “I’ll make things right with Frank. We could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we’d just been honest with him from the beginning.”