Dead Down East (9 page)

Attempting to deflate the prosecution’s
timeline, Vinny Gambini is cross-examining Mr. Tipton about his
cooking. The dialogue went like this:

Vinny: “How could it take you five minutes to cook
your grits when it takes the entire grit-eating world 20
minutes?”

Mr. Tipton: “Um...I'm a fast cook, I guess.”

Vinny: “Perhaps the laws of physics cease to exist
on your stove.”

I was fairly certain that the laws of physics still
existed on
my
stove. I had studied those laws during my four
years at Colby College, and I had never witnessed any of them being
violated anywhere, let alone in my kitchen.
Heisenberg’s
Uncertainty Principle
held its ground tenaciously upon my
stove, even though Werner himself never intended it be applied
beyond the quantum realm. But then, things created on my stove have
always been uncertain and tentative, even the boiling of water.

The uncertainty principle doesn’t in any way suggest
that a pot won’t boil; it just indicates that there is no absolute
assurance when or if it will. Quirky and inexplicable things happen
in the quantum world. While the macro world is less subject to
these spasmodic idiosyncrasies, technically speaking, there is no
specific point where the quantum world ends and the rest of the
world begins. It’s all a quantum world. Hence there remains a
relentless uncertainty in every little thing and, by extension, in
big things as well. Statistics be damned for the moment, if I may
be so bold.

Notwithstanding the confidence I had in my scientific
thought processes, the pot indeed did boil, even while I watched
it. With two cups of piping hot tea in hand, I tabled my internal
dialogue and made my way to the living room. It was high time for
the
real
dialogue to begin.

When Cynthia saw me, she moved toward the couch and
said, “Let’s sit down. I’ll tell you what happened.”

Cynthia sat on the couch, and I settled into my
bark-a-lounger—the hideous, though comfortable, consequence of the
confluence of a Discover Card, several beers, a boring evening and
cable TV. The chair provided a kind of “Sam Spade’s been to
WalMart” ambiance, not entirely reassuring for clients, to be sure,
but after all, this was not LA. Mainers are not so concerned about
haute couture
and living room furniture. In her current
state of mind, I’m certain it didn’t matter to Cynthia one
iota.

“How to begin?” she pondered.

“Just start at the beginning and feel your way along.
We have all night, and I need to know exactly what happened.
Please, be open and frank. I’m your friend, and I’m here to help.
Every detail is important. We’ll sort it out as we go.”

“You heard my conversation with Richard on the phone,
so I’m sure you realize that I was having an affair with William.
He and Rebecca hadn’t slept together for the past five years. For
all intents and purposes, they were separated. On paper they were
married, but in real life, no. They simply shared a proximity to
one another.

“William and I began seeing each other almost a year
ago. Richard Merrill and William were friends and associates. They
had known one another since high school and maintained a close
relationship for the past thirty years. Richard appreciated how
difficult it was for William to live with Rebecca and still have a
‘normal’ life. William felt he had to keep up appearances in order
to prevail in his first run for governor. As you know, he just
barely won. A divorce would have ended his chances before he got
started.

“But William is a man, and a dashing one at that.
Was
.”

Cynthia sighed, took a deep breath and waded
ahead.

“Richard would arrange our dates. At times we would
shuffle cars around to give us a chance to be alone. William often
drove his car to Richard’s house and then would drive Richard’s car
to my home for the weekend. That left his car, which could easily
be recognized, at a friend’s house, not a lover’s.

“This weekend we tried something different. If we
could only undo those plans…”

Cynthia teared up noticeably, so I went to the
bathroom to fetch some tissues.

She thanked me, dried her eyes and continued.

“On Friday after we had both finished work, William
and I converged at Richard’s home. Richard was getting ready to
leave on a business trip to Massachusetts, so we couldn’t use his
car. We had worked out an alternative plan. We had decided to go to
William’s summer home on Sebascodegan Island and spend the weekend
there alone. William alerted his security team that he would be
going there by himself. Ostensibly, he would be completing the
acceptance speech for his nomination for a second term. As you
know, he was running unopposed in his own party. He had given
strict orders not to be disturbed for the entire weekend.

“When we drove out of Augusta, I sat in the back
seat. The windows of his car are heavily tinted, so no one could
see that I was there. Whenever we came to a stop in town, I simply
ducked down to avoid being seen through the windshield. Just before
we got on the interstate, we found a quiet place to pull over, and
I got in front. We drove the rest of the way side by side.

“When we arrived on Sebascodegan Island, we found
another spot to pull over, and I got into the back seat once again.
Being concerned that the guard posted outside William’s summer home
would see me, I stayed tucked down on the floor as William stopped
at the gate. He greeted the guard in his usual friendly manner and
reminded him that he didn’t want to be disturbed for the weekend.
We then passed through the gate and into the garage. From there we
were secluded in his beautiful summer home on the bay.

“By the way, William and I planned to be married. He
and Rebecca had already agreed to a divorce. They hoped to keep up
the appearance of a happy couple until sometime after the election.
Win or lose, the marriage was over. If he won reelection, there
might be a mild scandal over the ‘other woman,’ but nothing that
would interfere with his position as governor.”

Cynthia’s story didn’t shock me, but it did come as a
surprise. She closed her eyes and so did I. There was little I
needed to say at this point. I just waited for the story to
resume.

“We spent all of Saturday lounging inside the house.
We didn’t want to be spotted by the neighbors or from the boats in
the bay. We were content to just be together.

“We decided to go to the theater on Saturday evening.
The movie,
Lincoln
, was making a rerun at the Royal in
Brunswick. Neither of us had seen it the first time around, so we
were eager to go. It would be a little tricky to remain unnoticed,
but we worked out a ruse. Actually, we reveled in it. It felt like
a college caper.

“It’s only four miles to the theater. I would ride in
the back all the way. William had already informed the guard that
he was going out, so when we approached, the guard opened the gate,
and we drove right through. When we got to the theater, William
parked in an out of the way spot. He got out alone and walked
inside. We had arranged to meet and sit in the back. The film had
been out for quite some time, so the theater was not likely to be
full.

“About a minute later, I got out of the car, locked
it and walked inside. He was sitting alone in the back row, and I
joined him. Really, it was all very simple. We not only enjoyed the
movie, but we took pleasure in the escapade. It was a lovers’
adventure.

“When the movie was over, we took separate paths back
to the car. I went first because we knew I wouldn’t attract
attention. He followed about a minute later. I would already be
hidden in the car in the event someone noticed him on his way out.
It worked fine. We left the parking lot about 10:15 and headed back
to the island.

“We drove down the highway and over the bridge, but
as we approached the intersection at Cundys Harbor Road and began
turning left, William noticed a car stopped along the side of the
road, heading in the opposite direction. The driver was standing in
front of his car, waving what looked like a white towel.

“There was very little traffic so late at night, and
the guy obviously needed some help. William decided to stop and see
what he could do. He told me to stay down in back so that I could
not be seen when he lowered his window. William pulled the car off
to the right, rolled down his window and called across the road,
‘What’s the trouble?’

“The guy told William that his right front tire was
flat. He had jacked up his car, but the jack had slipped and was
now wedged in such a way that he couldn’t extract it. He wondered
if William could spare a few minutes and loan him his jack so that
he could finish changing the tire.

“Without even a moment’s hesitation, William said,
‘Sure thing.’ He circled around and pulled up behind the other car.
He left the motor running and the lights on. Before popping the
trunk to get his jack, William decided to have a look at the
situation. He told me quietly to stay down, but I thought I
probably couldn’t be seen anyway, since our lights were in the
guy’s face. I peeked over the front seat to have a look. The guy
waited by his right front fender as William got out of the car and
walked over to him.”

Cynthia took a deep breath and sipped the last of her
tea, which now was as cold as the evening air.

“That’s when it happened,” she said, choking back
tears. “I heard a single shot ring out, and William fell
immediately. Apparently the guy bent over to see if he was alive or
not, because right after the shot, he disappeared from view. I
froze in terror. I didn’t know whether to attempt an escape from
the car or stay put. If I opened the door to run, I’d obviously be
seen, and the assailant would track me down. If I stayed in the
car, he might very well come over and find me. My best chance
seemed to be to stay put and hope the guy would flee the scene
unaware of my presence. I was certain he hadn’t seen me at that
point and wouldn’t be able to unless he actually walked over and
opened the door. If he made any movement toward me, I’d make a dash
into the night.

“After a few moments he stood up. That’s when I saw
the gun, still in his right hand, and the towel in his left. He
stared for a moment, looking into the windshield of our car. It was
the first time I actually saw his face. Then he looked all around,
I guess to make sure there was no one else in the vicinity. There
were no other cars on the road. Moments after the shot was fired, a
light came on from somewhere behind me and across the road to my
left, probably from a house nestled behind a stand of trees. The
light filtered through, but barely reached us. Compared to our
headlights, it was not bright at all.

“He took a few steps toward our car, and my heart
raced out of control. I was just about to make a run for it when I
heard a man calling from the direction of the porch light.
Apparently he had heard the shot and came out of his house to see
what was happening. He yelled, ‘Is everything OK? I thought I heard
a shot.’

“The assailant shouted back, ‘No problem, my car just
backfired. I think it’ll be fine.’

“I glanced back to see the neighbor behind me. He
just stood there as if waiting for assurance. It must have spooked
the assailant. He quickly wrapped the towel around the gun, walked
around the front of his car and got in. As soon as his engine fired
up, the neighbor walked back down the road toward his house. He
seemed so relaxed that it was obvious he hadn’t seen the gun. The
driver turned on his lights and drove around the bend.

“As he was pulling away, I spotted Williams’ body. It
looked as if he had been dragged several feet down the embankment.
I kept my eyes riveted on the taillights of the car as he drove
around the corner. Before I made a move, I wanted to be certain he
was gone and wasn’t coming back.

“He was almost out of sight when he stopped his car
and got out. I was terrified. Adrenaline shot through my veins. He
might be coming back for me! This time I got out of the car,
prepared to run if necessary. Thankfully, the overhead light didn’t
come on. William always kept that in the off position for
privacy.

“I couldn’t actually see the killer or much of his
car, but I could see the taillights shining through the trees. He
must have walked around to the back of his car because his left
taillight became obscured for a moment and then reappeared. He
stayed there for a few seconds, and then I heard two separate
thuds. It sounded as if he had thrown a couple of things into the
woods across the road. After that, he got back into his car and
drove away.”

“Wow,” I said. We both just sat there for a while
until I added, “I’m so sorry, Cynthia. Would you like to take a
break?”

“Yes, maybe a break is a good idea,” she said.

“I don’t want to sound indelicate immediately after
your description of William’s murder, but we haven’t had anything
to eat since we left Brunswick. Would you like something?”

“I am feeling shaky,” she replied. “Do you have any
soup?”

“Always,” I said. “I’m the Campbell’s Soup poster
boy. I’ve got tomato and cream of mushroom.”

“Cream of mushroom sounds good,” she said.

I slipped into the pantry and pulled two cans of soup
from the shelf. I called from the kitchen, “The mushroom won’t be
very creamy. I finished up all the milk before I left for the
cabin. I wasn’t expecting to be home until Thursday.”

“That’s fine,” Cynthia said. “I’ve just been through
a near death experience. I’m not in a mood to be fussy about the
cuisine.”

I opened the cans, emptied them into a pot, added
water and turned on the stove. I took some rye bread out of the
refrigerator and popped the slices in the toaster. “It’s not
gourmet,” I thought, “but it should get us through the night.”