The Sisters Corwin

Gwen was going to be royally pissed. Arthur knew it. He could picture her ranting about how the entire carpet was going have to be ripped up and how long it had taken her to find the perfect shade of green carpet that complemented the desk he insisted on using. She wouldn’t yell; she rarely yelled, but her tone would leave little room to imagine that you were not in serious trouble. Quite frankly it was probably best that he was going to be dead shortly so he wouldn’t have to listen to her bitch about the carpet or, frankly, anything ever again. He wondered if she’d be angry about his death. She probably would be, but not as angry as she was going to be about the carpet.

Given the choice Arthur wouldn’t be ruining the carpet or dying, but he had not been given the choice. The younger man who was currently standing over Arthur with a knife had made the choice and Arthur had been unable to argue his way out of it.

“You still have a few moments, Arthur. Just tell me,” the young man said as he leaned over Arthur.

The pain in Arthur’s chest was unbelievable. He never thought dying would hurt this much. He assumed that adrenalin would take the edge off the pain. He had assumed wrong. He pressed his hand over the stab wound in his chest trying without success to stop the flow of blood which was what was ruining the carpet.

It was beginning to get hard to breath, but Arthur managed to whisper, “No.”

“Come on Arthur. You’ve been good to me. I didn’t want to do this, but you forced our hand. You can save one of your daughters though. You just have to tell me which one of them is your successor and I promise I won’t touch the other one. Be a good father, Arthur. Save one of the girls.”

Be a good father, the man said. Arthur was certain he had never been a good father. If he had, both his daughters wouldn’t hate him. Not that he could blame either one of them. He had given them both plenty of reasons to hate.

“The safe bet would be Fiona, but she not powerful enough is she? So that leaves Aisling, but she hates you? So, which one of them is it, Arthur?”

Arthur’s vision was beginning to go blurry. He saw a figure standing behind the man. It was a beautiful women dressed in white. Her long blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders. Arthur hadn’t seen her in nearly thirty year, and she looked lovelier than he remembered.

Arthur began to cry, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he reached out to her, “I didn’t protect her.”

“Arthur,” the other man said questioningly.

The woman raised her hand slowly and pressed her index finger against her lips, “Shush.”

Arthur Corwin was suddenly very tired. He was weary right down to his bones. No, he was weary down to his very soul. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. He let his eyes begin droop closed.

“Arthur, damn it tell me which one of the girls is your successor!” The man said as he kicked at Arthur.

With the last of his strength Arthur raised his finger to his lips, “Shush.” His eyes closed for the last time.

The younger man shook his head in disgust. It was such a waste. Arthur could have avoided it. He also could have avoided it for his daughter, but he had made his choice. Neither of the girls would be able to stand up to what Arthur had, he just had to figure out which of them was the successor. He could and would torture both of them if he had too, but he would prefer to avoid it if possible. He had known both of the sisters his entire life. If he could spare one of them pain he would. Hell, he hadn’t even really wanted to do this to Arthur. He hadn’t being lying when he said Arthur had been good to him.

The young man began going through Arthur’s desk. He made sure to make a much of a mess as possible. He pulled out the drawers of the massive oak desk that dominated the room and dumped their contents on the floor. He quickly scanned them to make sure there was nothing useful to him, but he was more concerned with making the room look like someone had been looking for valuables. He moved on to the book cases. He carelessly pulled books off the shelves and tossed them on the floor.

When he was done the room was a mess. Papers were strewn all over the floor. Some of them had landed in the pool of blood that surrounded Arthur and had begun to soak up the blood themselves. He stared at Arthur’s lifeless body one last time.

“Journey on now, brother. We will follow when we can. May you be born again at the same time and in the same place as those you knew and loved in this life. May you know them again and love them again,” he whispered, “Goodbye Uncle Arthur.”



***

Ash had a wicked headache. The stupid wig was probably not helping. Why did people always assume that a psychic should look some sort of gypsy out of a bad horror movie? Was there some reason a blond haired woman couldn’t read the cards? But people had preconceived notions of what a psychic should look like and Ash was more than happy to oblige them. It was all a game. Ash was no more psychic than her hair was black. She told people what they wanted to hear in a faintly exotic put on accent and they gave her their money. Everyone got what they wanted.

In the case of readings in private homes, like the one Ash was in currently, she also occasionally separated the lady of the house with some of her lesser worn jewelry. Which wasn’t probably what the rich bitch who hired Ash wanted, but anyone who hired a tarot card reader for their save the whatever charity fund raiser in order to “spice things up” deserved it.

As far as Ash was concerned it was an idiot tax. Besides, no doubt the tennis bracelet that was currently weighting down Ash’s pocket was insured. Even if it wasn’t, anyone who owned a several million dollar house in Westchester could afford a new bracelet.

Ash’s table was situated in the corner of the home’s enormous living room. They probably called it the great room. The ceilings were at least two stories high. All the furniture and the carpet was spotless white. The maid must have been working overtime. It was a typical McMansion.

People milled around chatting and sipping out of equally large glasses of wine. All of them dressed in their idea of weekend casual. There was a sea of Dockers, polo shirts and sundresses. Occasionally one of them would sit down across from Ash and she would read their fortune or at least tell them what they wanted to hear.

One such guest sat down in front of Ash and Ash plastered on her best fake smile. The girl was a little younger than Ash. She was probably in her early twenties. Her dark hair just brushed her shoulders. She wore a conservative dress covered by a long sleeved cardigan. Something about her reminded Ash of Fiona and her smile became a little less fake. “Ever had your cards read before,” Ash asked her.

The girl shook her head and another woman came over and threw her arm around the girls shoulder and said, “Liv never does anything fun.” Between the woman’s slightly slurred words and the rather large glass of chardonnay that she wielding like a weapon it was obvious that she was drunk. The girl looked embarrassed by her friend and that made Ash like her even more.

“It’s okay, I’ll be gentle,” Ash told the girl with a wink and that earned a smile, “What’s your name?”

“Olivia,” the girl replied.

“Alright Olivia, shuffle the cards for me,” Ash said as she passed the deck of brightly illustrated tarot cards across the table to Olivia. Olivia reached out and picked up the deck, as she did the sleeve of her cardigan rode up revealing a bruise on her wrist. She quickly pulled her sleeve back down.

Ash didn’t comment on the bruise as the girl handed her back the deck. It wasn’t any of her business anyway, or at least that’s what she told herself.

She dealt out three cards. Theoretically they all had meanings and Ash even knew what they were, but she didn’t tell people what their future was really going to be. No one really wanted to know what their future was really going to be like. People just wanted to hear that they were going to meet that tall dark handsome stranger that they had always dreamed about. Ash had a feeling that Olivia had already met her dark stranger though.

“You’ve just finished school,” Ash said and as she did she watched Olivia’s face. It told her that she wasn’t right so she tried again, “No, no, that’s not right. You’re still in school?” The girl nodded. She probably wasn’t even aware that she had done it. “But you’re not happy?” She continued to watch the girl’s face and saw that she was on the right track. “Thinking about changing majors?”

“Yes,” She replied, “I want to go into the nursing program.”

“That’s perfect,” Ash said as she pointed at the cards with mock enthusiasm, “I saw you were a healer when I first saw you.”

The girl beamed. “So, I should do it?”

“Absolutely! And I see you getting a very good job when you graduate.”

“That’s great.”

“Come on,” The drunken friend piped in, “tell us what she really wants to know. Is Brad going to propose?”

Ah so that was the dark stranger’s name, Brad. Ash would bet good money that Brad’s hand was about the same size as the bruise on Olivia’s wrist.

Ash paused as if she was studying the cards. “Yes,” she said after a moment, “I see a wedding in your near future.” Follow quickly by a funeral, no doubt, but Ash kept that thought to herself.

“Told you,” The friend said. Olivia didn’t look as happy as someone would expect her to be at this news. The friend didn’t seem to notice, but Ash did.

“Thank you,” Olivia said as she placed a few dollars in the tip jar that sat on Ash’s table. Ash saw the bruise again as she did. Ash knew that she should leave it alone. It was none of her business. She should just let her walk away, but she found herself reaching out and grabbing the younger girl’s wrist.

“If he does propose, don’t marry him,” Ash said. The girl looked confused and tried to pull her wrist away. “It doesn’t get better. He won’t stop.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” The girl said, “Please let go of me.”

“Really? How’d you get that bruise?” Ash nodded towards Olivia’s wrist, “He’ll wind up killing you, Olivia.”

“Hey, let go of her you freak,” The drunken friend chimed in.

“Trust me, he won’t change. It doesn’t matter how many times he promises he will or how many times he cries and tells you he loves you. It doesn’t stop until you leave him or you’re dead.”

The girl had tears in her eyes now and Ash let go of her wrist. She stepped back rubbing her wrist. “It was an accident. I had accident. That’s how I got the bruise.”

“My aunt’s hosting this party and I’m going to talk to her. If you think you’re getting paid after assaulting my friend you have another thing coming,” the drunken friend said.

Ash ignored the drunk. “Lie to whoever you want to. Its none of their business how you got the bruise, Olivia, but don’t lie to yourself. Leave him before he kills you.”

“Hey, did you hear me? I’m going to make sure my aunt throws you out on your ass,” the drunken girl said again.

Ash turned her head and looked directly at the other girl and said, “Fuck you and fuck your aunt.”

“Well, I never…” she mumbled as Olivia dragged her away from the table. Ash watched them go. She then dumped the contents of her tip jar into her purse along with the deck of tarot cards. She then made a hasty exit before the drunken girl could have a chat with her aunt.

***

Fi was going to make her father apologize. She wasn’t leaving his office until the words, “I’m sorry,” came out of his mouth. At least that what she kept telling herself she was going to do. In reality she would probably never bring up the fact that the things that he had said to her had broken her heart. She would walk into his office with the intentions to finally put her foot down and he would open his mouth and her spine would evaporate.

“Dad, I know you probably don’t realize how what you said sounded, but…” Fi rehearsed as she walked up the driveway. Damn, she even sounded wishy washy to herself. The fact was her father knew exactly how what he had said sounded like and most likely he just didn’t care.

All Fiona’s life she had tried to be the perfect daughter. She had never gotten into trouble and she gotten straight A’s in school. It didn’t matter to her father though. She would always be a disappointment to her father though because she couldn’t do the one thing that was more important to her father than any grade.

She had known all her life that she was not her father’s favorite child and she could live without being the favorite, but she could not live with her father being openly hostile towards her. That’s what he had been a few days before; there was no other way to describe it.

He had called her into his office. He had been sitting behind his desk. He was uncharacteristically disheveled. His hair had been sticking up like he had run his hands through it. His tie was at half-mast and his shirt sleeves were rolled up.

“Tell me you’ve made some progress,” he had snapped at her when she walked into the room.

“Some,” she had told him hesitantly. He waited for a moment as if he expected her to elaborated and then impatiently motioned for her to continue. “I…” her voice had trailed off.

“You haven’t done a damn thing, have you?” he said with disgust.

“Dad…”

“Don’t Dad me,” he said as he stood up and slammed his hands down on the desk, “Do you realize how important this is?”

Fi had jumped when he slammed his hands down. She had never seen her father this angry before. Well actually that was untrue. She just had never seen him this angry at her before. “I do.”

“I don’t think you do. I won’t be around forever. Someday you will have to step up. What I don’t understand is why you can’t do even simple things. It all came so easy to Aisling. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m not Aisling,” Fi said softly.

“No,” his voice was dripping with disgust, “You most definitely are not.” With that he waved her out of the room. Fiona had been dismissed and she had left the room, but she left behind her heart which her father had ripped out.

Now she was going to tell him how he had made her feel. Her father’s secretary had said he was working from home today and that struck Fi as odd, but many of the things that her father had done over the last few weeks had struck her as odd. She squared her shoulders as she opened the front door.

Later she would try to figure out what had made her feel uneasy from the moment that door swung open. There was nothing out of place. Nothing ever was. Her mother simply would not allow it. She called out to her father but there was no answer. She knew he was probably in his office and she made way to the back of house to where it was. When she reached the door, which was closed, there was still nothing obviously amiss, but part of her wanted to turn around and run from the house and pretend she had never been there. In that moment she chalked up the feeling to not wanting to confront her father.

She hesitated before she knocked on the door. There was no answer. There wasn’t even any sound of movement behind the door. Maybe he wasn’t there. She reached down and tried the knob. It turned easily. He had to be there. Her father never left his office door unlocked when he wasn’t in it. Fiona Corwin pushed the door open. A blood curdling scream ripped from her throat as she was greeted to the scene within.

***

Sean really could have lived rest of his life and never stood at another murder scene and been happy. He had never really thought that that would happen, but he never expected to see one so soon. One did not expect to move to a sleepy little town a hundred miles from New York and see a brutal murder within a few weeks of joining the force there.

Sean stood over the body of Arthur Corwin. From what Sean had gathered from the rest of the cops at the scene Arthur had pretty much had it all. He was rich and he was good looking. He had been one of one of Avalon’s most prominent citizens. He had seemingly had the perfect life and now he was dead. That had been one of the things that most bothered Sean about this job; the abruptness of it all. You were alive and happy one second and then some scumbag killed you and you were dead.

Sean directed the crime scene techs to finish photographing the scene and dust for prints. He had put it off long enough; his least favorite part of the job talking to the victim’s family.

He made his way through the house passing several cops on his way; it seemed that the entire Avalon PD was at the scene. Fiona Corwin was sitting on a couch next to another one of Avalon three detectives, Jane Montrose.

Jane patted the girl’s hand and stood up and came over to him when she saw Sean standing in the doorway to the living room.

“She’s rather shook up,” she said. Jane was a little older than Sean, in her mid to late thirties. She was tall for a woman, no doubt nearing six feet tall. She still didn’t come close to Sean’s nearly six foot three inch height. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a braid that ran down her back. She was dressed simply in jeans, a white cotton blouse with a navy blazer over it to cover her gun.

“I’d think I’d be shook up too, if I found my father dead. Any luck finding the wife yet,” Sean asked.

“She says that Gwen, her mother, is at a meeting for one of her charities. Fi doesn’t know which one or where and apparently she turned her phone off because it’s going directly to voicemail. I sent a couple uniforms to check out the usual places they meet and see if they can find her.”

Sean noticed that Jane seemed familiar with the family, “How well do you know these people, Jane?”

“I used to babysit Fi. I changed her diapers. It’s why the Chief made you lead on this. Everyone in town knows Arthur Corwin and the family. None of us are going to have any perspective on this except you.”

Sean nodded, “How much has she said?”

“Not much and quite frankly I haven’t really asked other than where her mom was. I figured it was better if you talked with her. I’m going to check where the damn coroner is.”

“Thanks Jane,” Sean said as he stepped past her. He made his way over to the young woman on the couch. She was looking down at the floor. She looked up as Sean came over. “Ms. Corwin, my name is Detective Sean Osborne. Can I ask you a few questions?”

She only nodded. Sean couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was even with red rimmed eyes from crying. She looked nothing like her father who was a tall man that had dark blonde hair and blue eyes. She was petite. Something about her seemed very delicate. Her hair was dark brown and cut in a pixie cut that flattered her face. Her eyes were also dark and stood out against her pale skin. Jane had let her change her cloths and clean up not long after they had arrived, so she was wearing a pair of sweats.

Sean sat down on the couch next to her and said, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she replied without much emotion.

“I know this is hard, but could you tell me exactly how you came to find him?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She let it out and then said, “I wanted to talk to him and when I called his office earlier his secretary said he was working from home, so I came over and,” her voice broke slightly, “I found him like that.”

“Was there anything unusual you could remember before you found him?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Was the front door locked when you came in?”

“Yes, I had to use my key.”

“Did your father often work from home?”

“No not really. I thought it was strange. He’s been…never mind,” she said as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Ms. Corwin-Fiona, is it alright if I call you Fiona?” She nodded. “I am going to everything in my power to find who killed your father, but you have to help me. You have to tell me everything, okay?”

She nodded again, “He’s being acting strange lately.”

Sean frowned, “Strange how?”

“He’s been moody. Acting like he has a lot on his mind.”

“Do you have idea what might have been bothering him?”

“No, he wouldn’t talk to me,” she sounded resigned as she said it. She turned her head and stared off into space, “We had a fight. That’s why I came over. Now I’ll never get to say the things I wanted to say to him.”

Sean hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t respond. “I’m sure your father knew that you loved him.”

She turned back and frowned. She opened her mouth to say something as the front door open and woman barreled through the door followed by a uniformed officer.

“Fiona!” the woman cried as she came in.

“Mom,” Fiona jumped up from the couch. The woman who was apparently Gwen Corwin ran over to her daughter and pulled her into her arms and squeezed her. “Mom,” Fiona said as she began to sob, “Mom, Dad…Dad is…”

“It’s alright, darling, the officer told me,” she stepped back and held her daughter at arm’s length for a moment, “Are you hurt?” Fiona shook her head and her mother once again pulled her into her arms. She stroked her daughter’s hair and whispered reassuringly. Sean let them stay like that for several moments before interrupting.

Fiona certainly took after her mother rather her father. They both had the same dark hair and eyes, though Mrs. Corwin’s hair was a bit longer, coming to her chin. She stood slightly taller than her daughter but, wasn’t sure if that was because she was actually taller or if it was due to what looked like very expensive pair of heels she was wearing. In fact everything Gwen Corwin was wearing looked very expensive from the expertly tailored charcoal trousers and cream colored silk blouse to the simple gold chain she worn around her neck.

Most of all Sean was struck by how young she looked. Gwen Corwin looked more like Fiona’s older sister than her mother. She had to be at least in her late forties in but, she looked ten years younger than that.

“Ma’am, I’m Detective Sean Osborne, could I-“ Sean was cut off as Gwen stepped away from her daughter and said, “I don’t know you.”

“No, Ma’am I’m relatively new to Avalon. I know this is a difficult time, but could I ask you a few questions?”

“I don’t know you,” She repeated.

“Understand that, but I need to-“ Sean began again before Mrs. Corwin once again cut him off.

“I don’t know you,” she said slowly and emphatically as if Sean was a particularly slow child who just wasn’t grasping what she was saying.

“Mom, please, he’s trying to do his job,” Fiona said.

Sean wasn’t sure what to say or do. He had seen a lot of people react a lot of different ways to grief, but this was a first. He wasn’t sure what knowing or not knowing him had to do with anything but, it seemed that Gwen Corwin was not planning on answering any of his questions or even letting him finish a sentence.

He waved the uniformed officer that had followed Mrs. Corwin into the house over and said, “Do me a favor and find Jane for me.” Maybe she would answer questions from someone she did know.

It took Jane a few moments to appear and in the meantime Gwen Corwin completely ignored Sean and instead focused solely on her daughter. She had once again pulled the Fiona into her arms and stroked her hair. He couldn’t really blame her for being worried about her daughter given the circumstances, but she seemed only to care about her daughter and not at all that her husband was lying dead down the hall.

Jane entered the room and said, “Gwen, I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Corwin ignored Jane’s offer of condolence and instead pointed at Sean and said, “I don’t know him.” Sean suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and say, “We already established that.”

“He’s alright, Gwen,” Jane told her.

“Please Mom, just answer their questions,” Fiona said as she stepped away from her mother.

Mrs. Corwin narrowed her eyes at Sean for a moment before saying, “Ask your questions.”

“Thank you Ma’am,” Sean said with a sigh of relief, “Can you tell me the last time you saw your husband?”

“This morning.”

“Did he seem worried, or upset about anything?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“You couldn’t say? I’m sorry Ma’am, but how could you not know if your husband was upset this morning,” Sean said doubtfully.

“I am not a mind reader. If anything was bothering Arthur he kept it to himself,” She replied coldly.

And that’s generally how she responded to each of Sean’s questions. Sean tried to hide his growing frustration but, it was hard. From what he could tell despite being married for over twenty years, Gwen Corwin knew very little about her husband or at least that’s how she acted. Sean suspected that she was purposely being vague and evasive with her answers. The question was why? Did she have something to do with her husband’s death? It seemed she had an alibi, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have hired someone to do it.

He hoped for Fiona’s sake that she wasn't involved. But then again he couldn’t completely rule Fiona herself out as a suspect, yet. She had admitted that she had a fight with her father, but Sean just couldn’t see her killing or having her father killed. Sean had a gut feeling that she had nothing to with his death. His old partner would warn him to make sure it the feeling originated in his gut and not some place slightly south though.

Sean had the sinking feeling that this was not going to be an easy case to close.

***

Ash cursed her own stupidity for the umpteenth time as she unlocked the door to her apartment. She should have kept her big mouth shut. Why did she care if some idiot girl let her boyfriend beat the tar out of her? She shouldn’t have given a flying shit but, the girl had reminded her of Fiona. It wasn’t just a physical resemblance but, also something about the way she carried herself. She seemed so fragile and delicate. Ash had just wanted to protect her, just like she hoped that someone would protect Fi in the same situation.

Ash pushed the door to her apartment open. It was a studio apartment that was approximately the size of a broom closet. It could have been worse…Ash wasn’t sure how it could be worse exactly; it was tiny, it smelled of the Chinese food that floated from the restaurant beneath it and, it was infested with roaches, but since everything could get worse she supposed she shouldn’t complain too much. It was better than living on the streets. She knew that from experience.

She dumped her bag on the kitchen counter to her left as she entered. She grabbed a beer from the ‘fridge and crossed the room and plopped down on the dirty old futon that doubled as her bed and couch. It was second hand and was covered in stains. Some of them it had come with, others Ash had added herself.

She wasn’t sure the misguided need to protect a girl she didn’t know was worth the money she had left behind when she split the party, but at least she had the bracelet. She would call Zev, a fence she knew, in the morning and see about selling it.

She was day dreaming about what she would do with the money from the bracelet as she clicked on the T.V. An ex-boyfriend had helped her steal cable from a neighbor a while back. The picture was usually crappy but, at least she didn’t have to pay for it. She liked having noise more than anything else anyway. It made her feel like someone was in the apartment with her. It made her feel like she wasn’t so alone.

She wasn’t even really paying attention to what was on as clicked through the channels until she paused for a moment on the news.

“Now we turn to a shocking murder in a small town. Jeff Summers is on location in Avalon on the Hudson.”

Ash froze for a second and then leaned forward and the screen shifted to a young handsome reporter. He was standing in front of the Avalon police department.

A cold fist of fear gripped her heart and squeezed. There were thousands of people living in the town and she hadn’t been there for seven years. Chances were that it was no one she knew, she told herself.

“Thank you Susan,” the reporter said seriously, “Yes, this quiet town is known as a bit of a bedroom community to New York and, is usually known for its charm and peacefulness, but today it was rocked by the news of a brutal murder of one of its most prominent citizens.”

The reporter paused for dramatic effect and Ash felt the fist tighten even further. “Earlier today the body of forty-nine year old Arthur Corwin was found in his home.”

Ash felt all the air rush out her lungs and she struggled to take a breath. They were wrong…it couldn’t be.

“The Avalon police department is not releasing much information at this time, but a source close to the investigation tells me that Mr. Corwin was stabbed to death and that his body was discovered by a family member, possible an adult daughter. The motive at this point is unknown, although robbery cannot be ruled out.

“Mr. Corwin was well known in the community. He was a business man and real estate investor,” the reporter continued to talk but Ash could no longer hear anything but the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

His body was discovered by a family member, possible an adult daughter. It took a moment for that statement to sink in. Fi had apparently been the one to find him.

Aisling Corwin’s father was dead and her little sister was the one to find his body.



***





Ash stood across the street and stared up at the house she had grown up it. She and Fiona had played in the yard. She had learned to ride a bike in that very driveway. Ash should consider it her home. Robert Frost said, home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. By that definition that house wasn’t her home and hadn’t been for seven years. By that definition Ash supposed she was in fact homeless.

“If you walk out that door, don’t plan on coming back,” the sound of her father’s voice echoed across the years and rung in Ash’s ears. No, this wasn’t her home anymore. She knew she shouldn’t be there. Part of her was tempted to run away and pretend that she had never seen that report on the news, but even if she did it wouldn’t change the fact that her father was dead.

She figured she better make her mind up quick because the neighbors were likely to notice her eventually and call the cops. That was the last thing she needed. She took one final deep breath, squared her shoulders and started up the drive.

One car was parked near the top of the driveway; a red beat up old civic. It had a bumper sticker that said “ESCHEW OBFUSCATION.” Ash figured it had to be Fi’s car. Gwen wouldn’t be caught dead in it. Ash hoped that only Fi’s car in the drive meant that she was the only one home and that Gwen hadn’t simply parked in the garage.

Ash stood in front the front door and her finger hovered over the doorbell. Her heart pounded in her chest and her stomach was doing flip flops. What if even Fi didn’t want her there? She wasn’t sure if she could deal with that. “Don’t be a chicken shit,” she mumbled to herself and pushed the button. She heard the chime from the other side of the door but no other sound for a moment then suddenly she heard the sound of the lock being turned. She almost bolted but, the door swung open and petite woman Ash almost didn’t recognize was standing on the other side.

Fi had been fourteen when Ash had left. A gangly little girl then, but now she was a woman. Ash knew that intellectually that Fi would have changed a lot in seven years but, it was still shocking.

“Can I help you,” Fi asked. Ash felt like a dagger had been shoved into her heart. Fiona didn’t even recognize her.

“No…sorry, wrong house,” Ash quickly mumbled and turned and started back down the driveway. Fi didn’t even remember her. There was no place for her here anymore-not in that house, not in this town.



***

Fi watched the woman abruptly turn and practically run away back down the drive. Fi didn’t think she had ever seen her before. The woman was at least a head taller than her, but much thinner; almost painfully thin. A curtain of blond hair had mostly hidden her face for the brief moment before she had bolted away from the house, but there was something very familiar about her.

The woman was about half way down the drive when Fi’s eyes widened and the realization hit of who this woman was. Fi tore after her.

“Aisling, wait!” she yelled.

***

Ash stopped dead and turned back when she heard her name. Fi was running towards her. She stopped a few feet short of Ash. Both women simply stood staring at each other for several moments. Ash finally broke the silence, “Hiya, Squirt.” She gave a sheepish smile and shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other.

“You know about Dad?” Fiona asked her voice cracking.

“Yeah, I saw it on the news.”

Fiona didn’t respond only opened her mouth and then closed it. Finally she simply closed the gap between them and threw her arms around her sister. Ash returned the hung wrapping her arms around the shorter woman. “Ease up, Squirt,” she said, “you’re going to break my ribs.

Fi laughed and tears soon joined the laugh. She pulled back her sister slightly though her arms remained clasped around Ash, “Where have you been?”

***

Fiona led her sister through the house to the kitchen. It was very surreal to have Ash there. She kept glancing back over her shoulder to make sure Ash was still there. She half expected Ash to have disappeared only having been a hallucination brought on by stress.

She watched as Ash studied the house, no doubt noticing the things that had changed and those that had stayed the same. Her face remained unreadable though. She hadn’t answered Fi’s question from outside. Fi still didn’t know where her sister had been for the last seven years.

Fi had been dreaming of this moment. A thousand different scenarios of how it would play out had gone through her mind. In some of them, Fi had vented her anger at Ash for leaving her alone. In others, Ash apologized and Fi magnanimously forgave her. In all of them, she at least got an explanation of where the hell Ash had been for so long and why she left her. In this version-reality-Ash wasn’t exactly forth coming with answers and an apology had not yet escaped her lips.

They got to the kitchen and Fi motioned for Ash to sit on a stool at the island in the center of the room. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. Ash shook her head. “Are you sure, something to drink? I can make something to eat.” Fi didn’t say that Ash looked like she very desperately needed something to eat. Wherever she had been for the last seven years, apparently there hadn’t been much food there.

“No, I’m good,” Ash replied. She once again began to study the room.

“Mom had repainted last spring. It used to be blue,” Fi said as she took a seat on the stool across from Ash.

“I remember,” Ash replied as she looked to Fi. “Where is the Evil Queen, anyway?”

“Please don’t call her that.” Fi shook her head disapprovingly.

Ash shrugged. “Sorry, so where is Gwen? Better?”

“She out planning….” Fi’s voice trailed off. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She out planning Dad’s memorial.”

“What the fuck happened, Fi?” Ash asked.

Fi looked down at the countertop. She could see both her own and Aisling warped reflections in the dark granite. “I don’t know,” she said very softly.

“Do the cops have any idea who did it?”

Fi only shook her head in reply. She feared if she spoke she would no longer be able to keep the tears at bay.

“Do they know?”

Fi looked up. “Do they know what?”

“About Dad, about you, about me, about all of us,” Ash said.

Fi shook her head. There was nothing for them to know about her anyway. “Jane Montrose is one of the cops but, the other one isn’t from around here. It doesn’t have anything to do with that anyway.”

“How do you know?” Ash asked pointedly.

“Everyone loved Dad. No one would hurt him.”

Ash leaned across the island closer to her sister. “I think we are both living proof that not everyone loved Dad.”

“That’s awful, Ash,” Fi said as got up and stepped back further away from her sister. Ash had always had an irreverent streak, but she had never imagined that she would say something so appalling about their father; their murdered father no less.

“Sorry, but it’s the truth,” Ash replied.

Fi shook her head. “No it’s not. I loved Dad and so did you. And maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he loved you too and now he’s dead so you don’t get to say shit about him.” Fi didn’t know where her outburst had come from. She had certainly had conflicted feeling about their father, but to hear Aisling, whom their father had adored, talk about him like that had bothered her more than she expected. Fi surprised herself at the forced of her words and from the look on her face it seemed that they had surprised Ash as well. Ash leaned back and raised her eyebrows.

“When did you start cursing, Squirt? You were still saying ‘oh fudge’ the last time I saw you,” Ash said with a smirk.

“About the time you left, Ash.” The smirk evaporated from Ash’s face. Fi stepped closer to the island put her hands flat on the counter and leaned closer to her sister. “Where have you been?”

Ash licked her lips and swallowed before answering, “You don’t really want me to answer that.”

“I do, I really do,” Fi said as she stared directly into Ash’s eyes.

Ash gave a rueful laugh and turned her away from her sister’s gaze, “Ok, I really don’t want me to answer that.”

“How about you tell me why you never even let us know us where you were? At least let us know that you were okay. I worried for the last seven years that you might have been dead? Did you ever think about that?”

Ash looked back at Fi and wrinkled her brow, “Dad didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Fi asked confused.

“He knew I was alive. He knew where I was. He showed up at my apartment three months ago. He’s always known exactly where I was, is my guess. Do you honestly think that anyone could hide from Arthur Corwin if he really wanted to find them bad enough?”

“No,” Fi said shaking her head in disbelief, “No, he would have told me.”

“He didn’t. He lied to you for all these years.”

“He must have had a reason.”

“Yeah sure, the reason is because he was an asshole, Fi. Why can’t you see that? Why could you never see that?”

Fi opened her mouth to answer when they both heard the front door open and Gwen’s voice call out to Fi.

“Fiona dear, I’m home,” She called as she walked into the kitchen. She froze in the doorway when she saw Aisling. “What is she doing here?” she said icily.

“Nice to see you too, Gwen,” Ash said sarcastically.

“You are not welcome in this house,” Gwen said as she glared at Ash. “You are not welcome in my house.”

“It’s not your house. It’s my father’s house and I’ll be in it if I damned well please,” Ash said as she stood and faced Gwen.

“Your father is dead, so it is my house now and I suggest you leave before I make you leave, Aisling.” Gwen said as she folded her arms across her chest.

“Mom!” Fi said.

“Damn, you are a cold fish aren’t you? Bet you don’t even care he’s dead,” Ash studied Gwen’s face it showed no evidence of emotion. “No, she’s right Fi. I shouldn’t ever have come here.” She raised her hands in surrender. “You win, Gwen. I’m leaving.” She brushed past Gwen and headed towards the front door.

Fi came around the kitchen island quickly to follow her. She cast a glare at her mother as she past her. She caught up with Ash near the door.

“Wait,” she said as she put a hand on Ash’s shoulder. The taller woman turned around and leaned against the door.

“What, Fi? It was a mistake for me to come here,” Ash said with a shrug.

“Please, Ash, I don’t want it to be another seven years before I see you again. Look, Dad’s memorial is Saturday. Please come,” Ash shook her head and scoffed. Fi put hand up to silence her, “I know you think you hated him, but I also know that you really did love him, even if you won’t admit it. And for better or for worse you are as much his daughter as I am and you should be there. Please come?”

Ash sighed and said, “I’ll think about it, Squirt.”

“Thank you,” Fi said, “You know I always hated when you called me ‘Squirt’, right?”

Ash smiled turned and opened the door, “Yeah, I know, Squirt,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away. Fi watched her go from the doorway until she disappeared down the street. She wondered how long it would be before she saw Aisling again.



***

Tristan wasn’t quite sure that the most appropriate place in the world for a memorial service was the ballroom at the Barton Arm’s, but it was apparently the only place in town that would hold all the people that were expected to attend.

He did find the place looking funereal as he walked in though. The room was mostly filled with chairs that had been covered in black fabric. There were black bows on all the wall sconces. A podium had been set up at the front of the room with several chairs, for family members, set up to the left of it and a large picture of Arthur stood to the right.

That was where Tristan found Gwen standing, before the picture of Arthur. Her back was to Tristan and she didn’t turn until he got close to her and said, “Aunt Gwen?”

She turned and smiled at him, “Tristan, dear.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked.

She ran her hands over his shoulder smoothing his suite jacket, “Yes, of course.” She picked a piece of lint off his lapel. “Where’s your father?”

“I believe he’s picking up great uncle Wallace up from the home,” he smirked, “Which should make this the most interesting funeral ever if he stripes naked and sings Yankee Doodle Dandy, like he did at his birthday last year.”

Gwen waggled a finger at him but didn’t quite manage to hide her own smile at the memory. “I thought you said that you were going to be on your best behavior today.”

“I am, Aunt Gwen,” he held up his hand, “Scouts honor.”

“That would make me feel better if only I didn’t know you were expelled from the Boy Scouts,” Gwen said as she rolled her eyes.

“Blow up one chemical toilet and you never hear the end of it,” Tristan said with a shrug, “Where’s Fi?” he added.

“She said she was going to get some air. Make yourself useful and find her please,” she said, “People with be arriving shortly and she should be here to greet them.”

“We must all keep up appearances, right?”

Gwen held up a finger and pointed at Tristan, “Best behavior today, Tristan. I mean it.” He nodded and glanced at the photograph of Arthur over her shoulder. Gwen followed his gaze and her face softened as she turned back to her nephew, “He loved you, you know. He couldn’t have loved you more if you were his own son.”

Tristan gave a sad smile and sighed, “He was always good to me you know?”

“I know,” she said as she reached out and rubbed his arm, “Go find your cousin, please.” He nodded and turned and to leave the room. He glanced over his shoulder when he reached the door. Gwen had turned back to the photograph and tentatively reached out and touched Arthur’s face.

He found Fiona standing at the edge of the parking lot staring off into the wooded area behind the hotel. “If you’re planning on making a break for it, now would be the time,” he called to her.

“Tristan,” she turned and smiled at him. She opened her arms and he closed the gap between them. He hugged her lifting her slightly off her feet before returning her to the earth and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Tristan and Fiona could easily be mistaken for brother and sister rather than cousins. They shared the dark hair, but Tristan had inherited his mother’s blue eyes as opposed to rest of the family’s dark ones.

“How are you doing?” he asked as they separated.

She shrugged and said, “I’m okay.”

“You know it’s okay if you’re not,” he reached out and squeezed her arm. “With everything that’s happened, no one would blame you if you lost it.”

She shook her head, “I’m really okay, Tristan.” She sighed and looked down and then back up into his eyes. “I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise me you won’t lose it.”

He furrowed his brow, “What is it?”

“Just promise.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Aisling is here,” she said.

Tristan stepped back like she had slapped him. “What do you mean Aisling is here?”

“She’s here in town or at least she was. She saw a news report about Dad and,” She paused, “and she came home, Tristan.”

Tristan rubbed his hand over his face. Emotions boiled inside him and threatened to explode. Part of him wanted to scream anger over her leaving; part of him wanted to weep in relief that she was alive.

Fi must have seen the emotions swirling over his face because she said, “You promised. You cannot freak out on me. Not today, just not today.”

He nodded pulling himself back together. “She’s okay?”

Fi shrugged, “She seemed okay, I guess.”

“Where has she been?”

“She didn’t tell me. We didn’t talk long. Mom walked in and well,” her voice trailed off.

“And Aunt Gwen flipped out?”

“Pretty much. Look, I told Ash to come today. I’m not sure she’s going to, but are you going to be okay if she does?”

Tristan plastered on his best fake smile, “Of course I am. I’m on my best behavior today.”