The Marsh River shone like a mirror under the brilliant sun. Music played from the tinny outdoor speakers at the marina and on the plowed area in front, families followed the traditional counterclockwise movement around the ice, the hiss of skate blades following each circuit.
Wendel Garver, wearing a large Santa hat, sold his popular barbecued sausages from the small clearing on the dock while his brother Baines poured mugs filled with hot chocolate for the kids and toddy for the adults. Brian leaned against the railing overlooking the marina, watching the Christmas card scene and thinking about the events of the past months.
Doc Butler had been rushed back to Ingersol after collapsing in his office, sharing a cigarette and a Christmas drink with George. The poor kid was distraught. No one had told him about Doc's condition, and he had taken a bottle over as a present. The fact that Doc didn't turn it down and insisted on opening it right then and there still left him feeling guilty and remorseful.
Wegman had taken Gwen Armitage back to Ingersol where, after getting patched and cleared by the hospital, she took up residence in the city jail, awaiting her first hearing into the charges against her. When the story finally came out, Brian and Wegman agreed that the evidence showed she hadn't killed either man but would have to stand trial for assault – the original bottle incident – and for entering the country illegally.
The knife was found in Gwen's purse, still wrapped in the Riverview motel stationery. Forensics showed that it held only the prints of Paynter Gough and Michael Quire. Carol denied the car theft charge, happy, with Brian's help, to have her role left out of the entire mess.
Erik returned when he saw the news in the local paper, swallowing the visiting cousin story and apologizing for his behaviour. After the trauma of finding out her relative was involved in all that went on, Erik reestablished himself as the caring, attentive husband, the very role of departure that caused Carol to stray in the first place.
Janet undertook a self-inventory and replaced the things she found missing while discarding the baggage, which led to a smoother, more relaxed relationship with Brian. He turned as she called to him, sliding on the snow as she ran toward the railing and landing against it with her stomach.
"No skates, sheriff?"
"Nope. Can't be restricted in my pursuit of criminals by impossible footwear."
"See any criminals out there?" Janet pushed her chin toward the river.
"You never know what people will do... Catwoman."
She punched his arm and laughed. "You've got that right. Gilly came in the other day and got a full beauty treatment. Said she was taking some time off to visit old friends in Ingersol." Brian turned and searched her face for some deceit. "What?" Janet stared back wide-eyed.
"Nothing. Guess I never figured Gilly for- for..."
"What?"
"Nothing. Listen, I've got to go and phone and see how Doc's doing. Want to come along?"
"Phone from my place. I'll make us some lunch."
Brian finally got off the phone and came into the sitting room where Janet waited with a tray of cheese and crackers. He flopped down on the couch and chose a piece of cheddar.
"So?"
"Doc won't be coming out of the hospital. The doctor I spoke to says he can't even respond orally anymore without coughing and choking. I said that I knew he didn't want any heroic measures, but the doctor said that my word wasn't enough. Jesus Janet, he has no other relatives and I don't know if he has a will or what in that office of his."
She held his arm and squeezed. "I'll help you go through the stuff later. Have something to eat first and then we'll go up."
"I spoke to Art Wegman too." Brian shook his head and snorted a laugh. "He's taking some time off to heal a bit, he says."
"Why is that funny?"
"Nothin', just- nothing." He took some crackers and cheese and filled his mouth, avoiding Janet's curiosity.
"I wish I knew what was wrong. You seemed to come way down all of a sudden."
"I think I might quit this job and find something else to do. People are just too- too- I don't know. Too damned complicated."
She sat back and uttered a gasp of surprise. "What about us? What else can you do around here?"
"I thought I might take up painting... at Polly's." He took another cracker and cheese.
Janet sat upright and stared at him as though he had lost it. "Brian! What the hell are you talking about? You can't paint."
"I also thought that maybe Split Oaks could use a domestic counsellor. I could try my hand at that." He slid his eyes toward her and stopped chewing at the sight of her expression. "You don't think I could do that?"
"I get it, Catwoman. Domestic Man." She grinned and stood up, pushing the small coffee table aside. Brian tried to look perplexed but his grin ran over into a wide smile as Janet held her fingers to her eyes like a mask and began gyrating seductively. "Counsel this, Domestic Man."
"I definitely think I can help you with this fantasy, Miss Bogart. Sit here." He pointed to the sofa then took her arm. "Better still, sit here."
"Why sheriff," she cooed, wide-eyed, "what big—" Brian pressed his lips against hers, choking off any more conversation.
EPILOGUE
Doc Butler was buried in the cemetery in Ingersol on a windy, snowy day with only a smattering of attendees. Brian and Janet had found his legal papers, including his last requests, and delivered them to the hospital before they went any further with treatment.
Wegman showed up long enough to pay his respects and to say hello to Brian. He had to get back to some important business in town.
"A real pity," he said, referring to the funeral and shaking Brian's hand.
"A pity and a shame," Brian added. He wasn't certain, but he thought he saw a woman waiting in Wegman's car. There was a small wake at a local pub afterwards and then Doc Butler became part of history. Brian and Janet took a room for the night in the Ingersol Roadsider, a faux colonial designed, rambling motel that featured hot tubs and X-rated films. Catwoman and Domestic Man required neither.
Gwen Armitage was sentenced to three years less a day for her part in the Split Oaks murders, and the other components of the case, and was awarded the rights to Paynter's property according to the will found during the investigation. She put it in the hands of a realtor and began planning a return to Wiesbaden.
Michael Quire went into the ground without so much as a glance from anyone; his only legacy was a small fenced area on George's service station lot holding the wrecked rental car and a sign identifying it as the Split Oaks Crime Site. The town let the obvious tastelessness pass figuring George didn't really mean any harm.
Irving Keldman continued to rail about the kids, Brian's bowl emptied and left unfilled on the corner of the counter. Ethel Howerchuck wrote many letters to the municipal offices in Ingersol trying to get someone to clean up the Gough property and to stop the locals from using it as a lover's lane. The for sale sign did nothing to temper her chagrin. Her husband the Judge just smiled and patted her hand encouragingly.
Polly delivered her annual flyer for the dance and auction to the residents of Split Oaks who heaved a collective sigh and dutifully attended yet again; buying stuff they didn't need or want in an effort to be communal.
Split Oaks is still a no place on the way to nowhere, except now it has a bit of legend.
THE END
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Pity and a Shame
Mystery / ThrillerA small bedroom community/tourist town rocked by its first homicide, the brutal murder of an unpopular recluse. An unemployed ex military policeman, hired as the only law in the town, attempts to discover the truth when all the clues point to someon...