dontravis.com
blog post #341
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| Artist: Maria Fanning |
I
recently received the third edit of The Voxlightner Scandal from DSP
Publications for my review. As this is the last opportunity to make changes to
the manuscript, so I always read the third edit from beginning to end. Guess what?
I always make changes. I think I will be making changes to my obit as they lower the casket into the ground. My philosophy is that a manuscript
is never finished, it's just that you get so sick of it you can’t stand to read
it again.
At
any rate, I wanted to give you another glimpse of the sixth BJ Vinson mystery
before it reaches the publication state. No date has been set yet, but likely sometime
early next year.
The
scene I’ve chosen opens Chapter 4 of the book when the matriarch of the
Voxlightner family summons BJ to “the Castle.” Let’s take a look.
*****
THE VOXLIGHTNER SCANDAL
When Paul and I went to the office the next morning after an early
therapy swim at the country club, a surprise awaited us. Hazel waved a phone
slip in my face the moment I came through the outer door.
“You have a call you need to return right away.”
I accepted the pink slip with a name and number printed in Hazel’s
careful handwriting. “Lucinda Caulkins…. Caulkins,” I mumbled.
“She’s old Marshall Voxlightner’s daughter,” Hazel said. “Caulkins
is her married name.”
“Ah.” No wonder my office manager was so animated. She either
anticipated a client to pay for the work we were already doing or someone
demanding that we cease doing it. Either way an advantage for the firm’s bottom
line from her perspective. “Okay. I’ll give her a ring.”
Paul joined me as I placed the call and activated the speaker phone
when someone answered the ring. I identified myself and was asked to hold.
Within a minute a calm, well-modulated voice came on the line. “My
name is Lucinda Caulkins, Mr. Vinson. Thank you for returning my call. I wonder
if it would be convenient for you to drop by and speak with my mother? She has
a matter she would like to discuss.” The hint of a slow drawl reminded me she had
lived for the last several years with a real estate developer husband in
Virginia.
“Certainly. When would be convenient?”
“Would two suit your schedule?”
“See you at two.” At Paul’s frantic pantomime I hastily added,
“Would it be permissible to bring an associate?”
“Of course.”
A uniformed maid answered the door, but a slender woman with
frosted brown hair stood behind her in the foyer. She stepped forward and
offered a hand as the maid discreetly slipped away. Her simple but elegant
outfit wasn’t off the rack.
As we exchanged greetings, I identified Paul as my associate.
Lucinda Caulkins greeted him as politely as she had me before leading the way
to a large, comfortable room. I would have called it a living room, but in this
setting, it was more properly a drawing room. The outside of this stone-and-brick
edifice might truly resemble a medieval castle, yet the interior was modern,
with big airy rooms… although the effect was spoiled somewhat by furniture that
might easily have come out of the Victorian age.
A small, thin woman I’d completely overlooked when we entered the
room rose from the depths of a tufted wing chair with the aid of an ebony cane.
Despite being emaciated she moved with alacrity. Her smile was welcoming, not
formal.
“Mother,” Lucinda said, moving to the older woman’s side, “may I
present Mr. B. J. Vinson and his associate, Paul Barton. They’ve come at our
invitation. My mother, Mrs. Dorothy Wellbourne Voxlightner.”
“Of course. Welcome to Voxlightner Castle.” The frail hand she
offered still had strength in it. I estimated she must be in her mideighties.
Her voice reminded me of her daughter’s without the slight, acquired southern
drawl. I’d heard stories about this woman all my life, and here she stood,
without hubris, not a prima donna or misanthrope, but warm and charming.
She startled us with a tinkling laugh. “I used to be so
self-conscious over such a pretentious description of our home, but Marshall
was adamant about it. Over the years it’s become easier.”
“It is a castle, ma’am,”
Paul put in, a smile dimpling his cheeks.
“I like this one,” the older woman said, taking his hand to shake
and pat at the same time. “You must call me Dorothy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips.
She drew him to a big camelback sofa and pulled him down beside
her. “I didn’t know they made them like this any longer.” She addressed Paul.
“Tea? Coffee? You don’t look old enough for highballs.”
“Thank you, ma’am, I’ll pass.”
After I also declined refreshment, Lucinda put things back on
track. “Mr. Vinson, I understand you’re working with the police on Pierce’s
murder, is that correct?”
“Both Paul and I are consulting with Detective Roy Guerra, the
officer in charge of the investigation.”
“Then we have a proposition for you.” Lucinda glanced at her mother
and received a small nod before proceeding. “As you may be aware, my brother,
Barron, disappeared on Monday, March 15, 2004 and has not been seen or heard
from since. We believe it is time to have him declared dead. We would like your
help.”
I wasn’t able to hide my astonishment. At a minimum my eyebrows
must have reacted. “I am surprised you haven’t taken that step before now. New
Mexico law requires only a waiting period of five years. Five years elapsed in
2009.”
“My father wasn’t willing to live the scandal all over again. And
any such petition was certain to raise it. Then, of course, that was the year
my father died, and probating his estate occupied our attention. Since then
we’ve honored his wishes.”
“Likely out of inertia,” Mrs. Voxlightner put in.
Distaste edged Lucinda’s voice when she spoke after a slight pause.
“When Pierce told us he was going to recreate all the details with his new
book, we objected. But he claimed he was going to expose the perpetrators and
exonerate the family.”
“Did he identify these perpetrators?”
She shook her head. “No. He rudely refused to reveal anything. Said
it was too dangerous. And given what happened to him, perhaps he was right.”
“You believe someone involved in the scandal killed Pierce
Belhaven?”
Lucinda leveled a cool stare at me. “What other explanation could
there be?”
I turned to Mrs. Voxlightner. “Are there children other than Mrs.
Caulkins and Barron?”
She shook her head. “Barron was our only son.”
“All right. I understand the situation now, but you don’t need my
services. As I understand the Uniform Probate Code, you are not required to
conduct a search for your son. If he has not been seen nor heard from this past
five years, that is sufficient. Your attorney can file a petition for a
declaration of death.”
The tiny elegant woman sitting beside Paul on the sofa cleared her
throat and claimed the room’s attention as she reached for a leather-clad folio
on the coffee table. “I fear we’re not making ourselves clear. Because Pierce
was so certain he could uncover the swindlers who looted the precious metals
company, we want you to investigate his death and bring his murderer to
justice. If in the process you determine exactly what happened to Barron, that
would be a plus for us.”
She opened the folio and held out a photo in her graceful fingers.
“This is the way the world last saw my son. It’s the final image of him I have
as well. This is not acceptable to me.”
I took the FBI wanted poster of a wild-eyed image of Barron
Voxlightner staring back at me. The legend read: Wanted for Murder and Grand
Theft.
“This is not the way I want to remember my son. Nor do I want
others thinking that of him. Locate Barron if you can. If not please see if you
can determine what happened to him. When you are finished, we will have my son
declared dead… if it’s appropriate.”
The room was still while I nibbled on my lower lip. “Mrs.
Voxlightner, the police and a couple of insurance companies investigated that
situation years ago. They had no luck, so it’s doubtful I can do better.”
The lady smiled at me. “But don’t you see? Pierce swore he
uncovered something he believed would lead him to the answer to the mystery.
Since you’re investigating his death, you just need to find what that was.
While he did not share his information with us, I do know it was something he
came across while he was with the New Mexico Power and Light Company.”
“You are aware his files were stolen and his computers destroyed,
aren’t you?”
“Come now, Mr. Vinson, we have faith in you. I’ve made some inquiries
and am satisfied you can uncover something for us. If nothing else, make
certain Barron has truly vanished without leaving a trace. Please provide us
with whatever contract you require, and we will give you an appropriate
retainer.”
“On one condition, Mrs. Voxlightner.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
“You’ll call me BJ instead of Mr. Vinson.”
“Agreed. And I am Dorothy.”
*****
I
suppose every city, town, and village in the world has at least one family around
which stories and myths and misconceptions swirl. The Voxlightners was one of
Albuquerque’s which is one reason why BJ is so easily persuaded to take a look
into a case that the police, the FBI, and others agencies had sought in vain to solve.
But as so often happens—one murder leads back to another. Or does it?
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on
writing. You have something to say, so say it!
My
personal links: (Note the change in the Email address)
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@dontravis3
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See
you next week.
Don
New Posts are
published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.
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