Points to Murder

Chapter 1

Billy Payette came from Emmett, Idaho. The town is located forty miles north-northwest of Boise at an altitude of five thousand nine hundred and six feet. Its population has hovered around six thousand for the past twenty years. Farming, cattle and elk ranches dot the area along with many fruit groves. Mid June marks the cherry festival and the beginning of the tourist season, which extends until Labor Day. Folks living in these parts keep pretty much to themselves.

Billy had just come home from a sixteen hour shift. He had taken off his gun belt and was seated in his favorite chair, sipping on his third glass of wine, reminiscing the past. His dad, Paul, had passed away six months earlier. The last time Billy was in Emmett was for the funeral where he collected his ashes and the few possessions his dad had left behind. Billy couldn’t say he was mourning his dad’s death. It was more like there was an empty spot left from his passing. Through the years they’d had many good times together, and some not so good. Tonight, Billy decided to take out the box of photos he’d retrieved after the funeral. It would be the first time he’d looked at those photos in a long time. He tried to think back when he’d last seen them and decided it was just before he’d left Emmett for better work many years earlier. Slowly, he opened the flap of the old, dusty cardboard box and rummaged through its contents, looking for the picture book. The first thing he came upon though, was Dad’s King James Version of the bible. He took it out and leafed through the familiar pages. He was most interested in the writings Paul had made in the margins of both the Old Testament and the New Testament. Satisfied he’d found the bible, he set it aside. He continued rummaging through the box and soon found what he wanted, the album that had his mother’s pictures in it. He placed it on his lap and opened it to the first page. He smiled and reminisced how often back then Dad had told him about the events of that night. After looking at the first page of photos he leaned back, took a sip of wine and closed his eyes. He could hear dad telling him the story. All his life he heard daddy repeat and repeat the same story, word for word, over and over again. By the time Billy was six he had it memorized.

It was a long, fourteen hour childbirth for your mom, Jeanette. This was her third try and a very difficult pregnancy all the way through. Walter Knox hospital wasn’t built back then and the closest facility to our home was almost thirty miles away. It wouldn’t have mattered, with sixteen inches of snow on the ground and another four on the way. Anyway, we didn’t have money for that.

Billy remembered how cold and harsh the winters could be back in Idaho, much different from where he was living now, where snow was unheard of. He finished his wine, flipped through some more photos and then placed the photo album on the coffee table in front of him. He poured another glass of wine from the bottle, took a sip and leaned back, twirling the glass between his fingers. He closed his eyes and the memory resumed with dad talking.

The midwife was supposed to have been here hours ago, but maybe she had trouble with her snowmobile. Three hours earlier the power went out, but that didn’t matter. Snowstorms often knocked out power for three days at a time. I’d stacked a half cord of wood in the cabin next to the fireplace. There was plenty. I kept that old potbelly stove of ours in the kitchen alive and had hot water boiling on top of it. Even though there was both the stove and fireplace going full throttle, the forty mile an hour wind gusts kept a chill in the house. I had to wear my boots because the icy wind racing under the doors froze my toes. I dragged your mom’s bed from our bedroom into the living room to be close to the fireplace. I strung a Coleman lantern and a kerosene lantern above her for light. Every so often I’d have to pump it to keep the filaments shining brightly. The only other light was from the fireplace. She’d been in labor for twelve hours and was worn down pretty good. I had some aspirins and gave her four every couple of hours. I had a wet rag and patted her forehead between the contractions. ‘I don’ know, Paul,’ said your mom, ‘I think he’s stuck.’ First times are the hardest, they say. I told her I’d brought enough animals into this world and that I could do it. She said, ‘I know you can, too,’ just as another contraction hit her. When the contraction was over she laid back down. ‘I’m plum tired out, Paul’ she told me, ‘and the contractions are a-comin’ on pretty quick.’ That meant it’ll be out soon, I told her. ‘No, Paul. It’s still too high up,’ she said. It was then I knew something was wrong. I laid her back on the bed and told her before her next contraction I’d try to turn it a little. I placed my hands on her womb and tried twisting the baby. I shouted at her to lay on her right side. I felt the fetus turn a little. Okay, then, let’s see how the next contraction goes. When it came it was more difficult and longer than the one before. Your mom passed out. I patted her brow with water, but she remained asleep. For the next hour she would wake up for the contraction and then black out. She became weaker and weaker until on the final contraction her insides burst and blood came gushing out of her, soaking her clothes and the bed. It was a mess between her legs. She looked up at me, squeezed my hand and said, ‘Paul, I’m sorry.’ Her eyes closed and she died with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Billy opened his eyes. He stood up and strolled to the refrigerator and pulled out a ham sandwich and another bottle of merlot. He returned to his chair, poured some more wine and took a bite from the sandwich. After again looking through the photos some more, he leaned back and closed his eyes again. In his mind, Dad continued the story from where he’d left off.

A small, incredulous panic darted over my face. I was momentarily confused, but after about fifteen seconds I snapped out of it. I got up, went into the bedroom and brought out my ten inch hunting knife and a filet knife. I didn’t know which one would be better, so I brought both. I decided to first use the filet knife. It was the sharpest. Before starting I went to your mother’s face and kissed her. Sorry, babe. I gotta do this, I told her. I used the hunting knife to strip her gown, then took the filet knife and started an incision from above mom’s belly button down to her pubic area. A few layers of skin parted. I didn’t want to go too deep for fear of harming the baby. Billy knew. He’d seen the photos hundreds of times. I made another, deeper incision in the same area, set my knife down and parted her skin. I could barely see it, but there was movement. I pulled her skin further apart revealing the uterus, and then took my knife and carefully sliced it open, making sure I didn’t cut you. Immediately, your head appeared. I reached in and tried to tug you out. It was too tight, so while holding you with one hand I took the filet knife in the other and sliced the cavity nice and wide. I pulled you out and was greeted with a robust cry. Relieved, I tied off the umbilical cord, cut it and wrapped you in a blanket. Well, hello Billy Payette, I told you, welcome to the world. I held you up to Jeanette and then told you, ‘That’s your mom, son. I’ve taken some pictures so when you’re older you’ll know all about this. Your mother died so you can live. I will teach you all about this lesson as you grow up.

Chapter 2

Around eight A.M. Carol’s phone rang. It was her son calling from San Diego. She looked at the caller ID and answered. Matt, it’s so nice to hear from you.

Hi, Mom.

How are Emma and the kids?"

They’re fine. Crissi started preschool this year with Jenny and Emma’s been working the afternoon shift at St. Teresa’s. She’s almost through with her training to be an O.R. nurse.

How wonderful. I’m so proud of the both of you. And your work? she questioned. Something didn’t sound quite right. Mothers can tell.

I got promoted last week. I think I told you that. I’ll be managing the whole Kona Cai Marina as well as the resort. Gotta put in a lot of hours, though.

You’ve been fascinated with the ocean, boats and lighthouses all your life. I know that job suits you just fine, mister MBA.

He laughed. Yeah, Mom.

The phone went silent. The second or two of dead space on the line sent a chill down Carol Wheeler’s spine. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t know just what. Son, what else is new? she probed.

Well, being upside down is a lot of fun. I think our house is only two hundred and fifty thousand in the hole right now.

Carol, being a real estate broker most of her life knew firsthand what Matt was talking about. Several years ago, Matt and Emma purchased a home, their first, in a very trendy section of San Diego. After graduating from San Diego State University with a master’s degree in business administration, Matt landed a six figure job at the marina. Emma graduated the following year from nursing school and started her career at Scripps Hospital. They were confident they could afford it, and after all, the housing market was growing at a rate of almost twenty percent a year. At the time she’d cautioned them, but not wanting to sound like some lecturing mom she didn’t admonish them when they made an offer ten thousand over the asking price of five hundred and seventy-five thousand. Two months later they moved from their downtown apartment into their new home. Of course, there wasn’t enough furniture in their old college-style apartment, so they took the retail credit route and nosed up a few credit cards to the limit. Voila! Their home was complete, done the American Way. Then, two years later the housing market crashed and the value of their home, and all the homes in the area dropped almost fifty percent. Carol wondered about how they were doing, and while visiting one weekend spent some time discussing finances with Matt and Emma. She explained it wasn’t a sin for them to do a short sale. After she looked at their incomes and liabilities it appeared they could wait out the housing crisis. She told them they were young and if they sat tight the market would eventually turn around and all would be fine. Their combined earnings more than supported their debt, so she felt confident that time would cure the problem. Of course, they didn’t discuss with Mom the other details of their lifestyle, like sending their children to the right private daycare facilities, or buying the Porsche, or the thirty five foot day-sailor. Mom had false security. In reality, the Matthew Wheeler family was maxed out.

Carol wondered if that’s what the pregnant pause on the phone was all about. Son, are things all right financially?

Why do you ask that? he questioned.

I don’t know. I guess its mom’s intuition. It seems like you’re holding something back.

Look, Mom, it’s nothing. I’m in the car right now taking Jenny and Crissi to daycare. Can I call you back when I return to work?

Of course, son.

Okay. Bye. The phone went dead.

To Carol that meant he was blowing her off. He’d probably wait until he made his obligatory mom call next month, she thought, so was surprised when he called her back in an hour.

Hi, Mom.

Well, hello again. This time she paused. Matthew Charles Wheeler, it’s time to deal straight with your mother, and right now.

Matt knew, when he was called Matthew Charles by, not Mom, but Mother, he had to deal straight with her and cut the bullshit."

Is it your finances? she asked.

No, Mom.

Then what is it.

I don’t know. For the past three or four weeks I’ve been feeling lousy. I can’t seem to shake it.

What does your nurse-wife say?

She says I should see a doctor, but I’m working over twelve hours a day in this new job.

Matt, you’re not some teenager. You’re old enough to be beyond thinking you’re indestructible.

I know, Mom.

When does Emma get home?

Around seven.

You call me at seven-thirty, and I want the both of you on the phone. No grandkids. Just the two of you.

But Mom-

"Don’t Mom me. Just do it. Promise me, Son."

Okay. I’ll call you at seven-thirty tonight. The line went dead.

Carol took the phone from her ear, held it at arm’s length and looked at it. After a minute tears began to flow from her eyes. She’d have to be patient for another nine hours. She was the type of person who did not overreact to things. In fact, she was just the opposite. As a busy real estate broker she had six loyal agents working for her. Her office was in Solana Beach, close to Del Mar, just north of San Diego. She was accustomed to dealing with the rich of San Diego and was always as cool as a cucumber when it came to negotiations. Her reputation preceded her. If a deal had to be done, especially if it was commercial real estate, you went to Carol Wheeler. While her agents sold homes, Carol specialized in commercial properties. Often she would smile while driving to work looking at the many high rise buildings realizing she personally filled a majority of the spaces with tenants like Scripps hospital, Anthem Blue Cross, Microsoft, etc.

She dressed and went to work. Walking into her office, her trusted assistant Bianca looked up and smiled at her. Carol marched into her inner office. Bianca put all the phone lines on hold, turned and followed Carol. Carol had just removed her blazer and draped it on the back of her swivel chair. As she sat, Bianca approached the chair opposite Carol’s desk and sat down. Okay. What’s up?

What do you mean? replied Carol.

You know damn well what I mean.

Really, it’s nothing.

"Yeah, well nothing doesn’t mean nothing to me. The look on your face would scare the shit out of a client if he walked in here right now."

It’s that obvious?

Honey, you’re the best poker player I know. You can bluff better than the rest of them. I know, I’ve been with you on countless deals. It’s made you millions. Right now you look like hell. What’s bothering you?

My son.

What about him?

I spoke with him this morning.

And?

And he doesn’t feel well.

Cut the crap, Carol. He’s not three years old with a runny nose. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.

I know.

Then what is it?

I can’t put my finger on it.

Okay, so it’s you, not him.

Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.

Feeling?

Yeah. Deep down in the pit of my stomach. You wouldn’t know, not having children. I think it’s a mom’s thing, or maybe you’d call it a woman’s thing

So try me, I’m a woman.

All right. She thought for a minute. Let’s say you’ve been living with a guy for two years or so. One night he comes home and something’s different, but you don’t know what.

I know what. It was Steve. Three years ago he asked me to marry him, and then two months later comes home and confesses he’d been fucking some bimbo.

You knew something was wrong the whole time, didn’t you?

Yeah, I knew.

Well, that’s it. That’s the feeling. Something is wrong in my universe.

She came around the desk and motioned Carol to stand up. She hugged her. Honey, it’s out of your control. It’s after eleven, so why don’t we go have an early lunch and a couple of drinks? Then you can go home. When are you going to talk to him next?

Tonight. Around seven-thirty. I made him promise to call me with no child distractions. I told him I want his wife, Emma on the phone, too.

Seven-thirty rolled around and the phone rang. Carol had regained her composure and decided to follow her own advice and take it one step at a time. Hi, Son. Hi Emma.

Hi, Mom, they both echoed.

Matt, said Carol, why don’t you start. Tell me what you meant this morning when you told me you’ve felt lousy for the past three or four weeks.

Emma came on the phone. Mom, did he tell you three or four weeks?

Yes, Emma. So, Matt, tell me what’s this feeling like to you?

It’s hard to describe, Mom.

Well, try me.

It’s like I told Emma. It feels like my body is not mine anymore.

Like how? questioned Carol.

I don’t know. It’s like I’m outside myself.

Carol asked, Emma, what do you think, not only as his wife but as a nurse?

I’ll tell you right now, your son is lying to you.

He is?

Yes. He’s been like this for three months not three weeks. It started mild, but now he’s so different.

Like how?

Well, sex has flown out the window and I know it’s not infidelity.

Son?

Well, Ma, I just don’t have a lot of desire or drive. I don’t feel good. I hit the sack and all I want to do is sleep. It’s hard getting up in the morning.

What else, Emma?

He used to take the girls to the park or the marina every evening. Now, he barely pays attention to them.

Is that right, Son?

I didn’t think so. Emma hasn’t really said anything until now.

That’s bullshit! she said with a raised voice. You just don’t remember.

I don’t?

No, you don’t. Furthermore, you’re losing weight and I see you favoring that old football injury to your knee.

Carol’s free hand was making wild doodles on her pad. Son, Daughter, please. Let’s try to be calm here. Matt, you need to see a doctor, and soon.

But Mom, there’s so much work to do in this new job.

You want to have a heart attack or something worse? That, for sure won’t impress your boss.

Yeah, I know, but I don’t think it’s anything like that.

I do, said Emma.

Carol put on her mom voice. Okay, Son, its two against one. Emma, can you get Matt in to see an internist quickly?

I’ve already made an appointment for Thursday morning.

Carol said, Son, that’s it. You’re going to the doctor on Thursday. When the results are in, you call me and let me know.

Yes, Mom.

Even though Matt couldn’t see her, Carol sat up straight. Let me make myself clear, Matthew Charles. If you do not go, I will drive down to your office and physically remove you to my car and drive you myself. I will not worry about embarrassing you along the way. By the way, you were too young to remember, but it was my company that negotiated the marina, hotel and spa with the city of San Diego and thanks to me the Kona Cai is what it is today.

Mom, you wouldn’t.

Oh yes I will, if you don’t see that doctor on Thursday.

Okay, I’ll go.

Thank you, Son. I know it’s for your best.

Mom, I’ve gotta tuck the girls into bed. Bye.

Good night, Matt.

Mom? Don’t hang up, said Emma.

I won’t. Honey, what’s going on there?

It came on slowly over the past three or four months. He’s not the same. Until tonight he refused to see a doctor. You raised a stubborn boy.

I know.

Thank you, Mom. I don’t know what’s wrong but I know something’s not right. I promise to call you after the doctor’s visit.

Thank you, Emma. Good night. That evening Carol felt much better. At least things were moving forward, not just wallowing in the mud.

At bedtime she dressed in her nightgown, washed her face and brushed her teeth. She had all the lights off in her condo except a small candle on her dresser. She opened the sliding door in her bedroom allowing the salty Pacific air to waft into the room. She could hear the waves, faintly pounding on the beach. There was an almost full moon hanging over the ocean dripping beams onto the waves as far as the eye could see. She stood there for a long time, gazing at the beauty of the world that was laid out before her. After a time, she turned and walked to her bed. Slowly, she turned and did something she hadn’t done in years. She dropped on her knees at the side of her bed, clasped her hands together and placed her head atop on them. Dear Lord, prepare me. Prepare my son, Emma, Jenny and Crissi. I know dark clouds are coming. Help us through these bleak hours. She took a deep breath, held it and then finally let it out slowly, saying, ‘Amen.’ She rose to her feet, turned down the sheets and climbed into bed.

That same evening Matt was busy in his spare bedroom, the home office. He called his boss. Jim, Matt here. I’ll have the presentation ready by ten tomorrow. Is that a good time?

Eleven would be better. Do you have all the data?

I just finished downloading it. I’m in the process of making a PowerPoint presentation with some Excel spreadsheets. It’s all ready to go. I’ll just need to make copies in the morning.

I’m counting on you, Matt. I’ll be entertaining them until the presentation. You know, we could double our profits if this one goes down right. Hell, I’ve been working on it for two years.

I won’t let you down. The data I have is solid and I’ll make sure the presentation is top notch.

I hired you to that position because I have faith in you. Matt, you know this could also double your income, along with stock options down the road.

Wow! Not until now, said a surprised Matt.

So make it good, boy.

I will. I promise.

I know your work, so we don’t have to go over it tomorrow. I’ll just bring the group into the meeting room at eleven. Have it all ready.

They hung up. Matt went over the presentation four more times, adding things, tweaking and making sure everything was perfect. He was in bed by three AM.

* * * *

Late Wednesday, around seven Carol’s cell phone rang. She was on her way home from work.

Mom, its Emma.

The line was garbled. Who?

Your daughter, Emma.

Oh, sorry. Gimme a minute. She drove through the underpass, placed the phone on hands-free and screwed the ear bud into her ear. That’s better. I can talk now. What’s wrong?

It’s Matt. Her voice was trembling.

Carol knew she had to quiet Emma. Emma, where are you?

I’m at the hospital. Matt has been admitted. I’m sitting next to him.

Emma, can you leave the room to talk to me?

Sure. Give me a minute. A few minutes went by. Okay, we can talk. I’m in the snack area. No one’s here.

Please, sit down and tell me what’s happening.

You remember our talk last night?

Of course.

Well, Matt had a presentation late this morning. It had to do with the resort doubling in size. Matt worked until almost three this morning. That’s nothing unusual for him. His presentation was around eleven. They called me at twelve. Half way through his PowerPoint slide presentation he faltered. They said his speech became garbled. Then, a few seconds later, with the slide changer in his hand he passed out. He dropped to the floor hitting his head on the desk on the way down. They rushed him to the emergency room and then called me. I got here right away.

And how’s he doing now? Do they know what happened?

Mom, it’s not about the fall.

What do you mean?

He didn’t hurt himself falling.

Then what is it?

Are you driving your car?

No, I just pulled in my driveway and I’m sitting here listening to you.

Mom, Matt has leukemia.

* * * *

Carol hung up the phone. She was in shock. Leukemia? What was that all about? She decided before driving to the hospital she should clean up, have a little to eat and Google leukemia. After getting ready, she fired up her laptop. On one of her first searches she found the US News and Report ranking of cancer institutions. She wrote them down. University of California at San Francisco ranked number seven, Stanford was number ten, UCLA ranked eleven, etc. Number forty-two was the University of California, San Diego, UCSD. She read as much as she could about leukemia and discovered that it was cancer of the blood cells. There were many variations of it, but basically the body’s white blood cells went on steroids and refused to die. The white cells, by reproducing out of control kept other cells from doing their work and wound up clogging the whole system and slowing things down. Satisfied she had a cursory knowledge of the disease, she closed her laptop and inserted it in its carrying case. She was ready. She lived a good thirty minutes from her son. The hospital was probably another fifteen minutes further. Carol knew Emma had a Mexican helper who watched the kids when she worked, so Crissi and Jenny were not a problem. She woke the Lexus and left her neighborhood. Forty minutes later she pulled into the hospital parking lot and took the ticket that spit out at her from the machine. After the automatic gate lifted she drove to the nearest parking spot, locked the car and found her way into the hospital. Five minutes later she opened the door to Matt’s room. Emma was seated in a chair next to his bed. She was holding his hand. Matt was asleep. Carol waved and smiled a tight smile. Emma got up, rearranged Matt’s hand and then went to the door where Carol was waiting. How is he? she questioned.

Well, there’s good news and bad news.

Give me the bad news first.

"The bad news is his white cell count is higher than they’ve ever seen it here