Adermoor Cove: Here to Stay - 1. Chapter 1

The receptacle was surprisingly very heavy. Made of ceramic, Carlos Santino had to hold it in his lap with both hands. In front of him his father’s name was engraved into the material, along with the date he was born and the date he’d died. It’s heavy because there’s a whole human being in there, he told himself. My father’s in there. And it seemed right that it should be heavy, burdensome. Enzo Santino had died a very painful death.

Carlos would be making payments for the rest of the year and all of the next to pay the urn off.

“You okay?” Moira asked. She was sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, he was strapped in the passenger’s seat. She stopped at a STOP sign before turning on Maggerly Road just off Donovan Road.

Carlos looked up. “You’ve asked me that a hundred times since you picked me up two hours ago. Are you okay?” He immediately felt bad for asking. Of course she wasn’t doing okay, neither of them were. Her partner and his best friend, Ramona Sterling, was most likely dead. There were dark circles around Moira’s eyes, around both of their eyes, because neither of them were sleeping. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound snappy. Thanks for doing this with me.”

Moira smiled without taking her eyes off the road. “No problem. You know I wouldn’t let you go through this alone. I’m just surprised you asked me. I know plenty of people who wanted to be there. I didn’t know Enzo very well.”

Carlos sighed.“I know. I just didn’t want there to be a bunch of people standing around, gossiping to one another and disrespecting my father’s memory, you know?”

“I know what you mean.”

Stopping at the end of a gravel driveway, they got out of the car together. Carlos moved slowly, grunting with the urn in his hands. He led Moira into the one story ranch house his father had lived in for as long as he could remember. The house and the property it sat on was now Carlos’s; Enzo had left it to him in his will as well as the money from his life insurance.

Moira used the copy of the house key he’d given her to unlock the door and held it open for him. Arms beginning to ache, Carlos set the urn carefully on the kitchen counter. He let out a sigh of relief. He looked at the table, where just four days ago his father and he drank beers together. So much had happened since then. A decade of events crammed into four days. Just thinking about it all was enough to make Carlos’s head swim.

He went to the fridge and peeked inside. Aha. Inside there were still a few bottles of Modelo beer. “Want a beer?” he asked Moira.

She was standing in the doorway of the kitchen as if uncertain what to do. “I can’t remember the last time I had a beer. Ramona always drank - um drinks - wine. Sure.”

He found the bottle opener and took the caps off. They sat at the table across from each other. For a moment an awkward silence prevailed as they sipped at their beer.

“I thought Lane would be here,” Moira said.

“I didn’t have the heart to ask him to be here. He’s got plenty of his own things he’s dealing with. He just found out who his real family is and the last known family member he had died. Not to mention he was in the same car accident I was in.”

Moira arched her eyebrows. Carlos could hear the wheels spinning in her head, the questions churning. Carlos had told her the bear was dead but he didn’t know how to tell her it was Lane who had killed it - by crushing its head without using his hands. He feared if he told Moira this she would just think he was crazy. He felt a rush of relief everytime she went onto a different subject.

“Where are you going to put him?”

“I was thinking over the fireplace.”

“I think that would be a good spot. It only seems right that he should be the centerpiece of the room.” She looked around the kitchen. “You have two houses now. And you have money.”

“I’m going to sell the one I’m living in now and just move into this one. I don’t know what I’d do with two houses. Unless you want to move out of the studio you’re living in... I’d rent it to you cheap.” He meant it mostly as a joke and immediately regretted it when he saw the sad expression on Moira’s face. Clearly she didn’t find it funny.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I couldn’t deal with moving into a new house right now. I’m still disoriented with what happened to Ramona. I’m just...” Moira’s hand clenched as she tried to fight back the tears. “...I keep waiting to get a phone call to hear Ramona’s body has been found. And I keep thinking if they do find her, will there be enough of her to put in a coffin or urn? They’ve searched the whole island twice now. Where the hell would she be? It’s not like Adermoor Cove is that big?”

Carlos thought of the cave Lane and he had found in the woods the day Enzo died. It was the day the first search party had been sent through the woods to look for Ramona. Everyone had split into groups. Enzo, Lane, and Ted had been in Carlos’s group. They’d found it close to the edge of the island. Ted’s words now reverberated through his head, I've been through these woods many times, hiked over every square mile, and unless my memory is failing me this cave was never here. Carlos himself had seen it, and so had Enzo and Lane. But now the cave was gone. It had just blinked out of existence. Many times over the past couple nights he’d thought about combing the woods in search of it to make sure it hadn’t popped back up.

What if Ramona’s corpse is in the cave?

His thoughts were interrupted by three rings from the doorbell. Moira set her beer down and looked over the shoulder. “I thought you said no one was coming over,” she said.

“I did.”

“Then who is it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe it’s Lane.”

Carlos stood up and went to the front door, hoping maybe it was Lane. Maybe the younger man had found out where his father had lived - after all, it wasn’t hard to find someone these days - and decided to pay his respects. The hope shriveled the moment he opened the door, replaced by a concoction of confusion and surprise. Standing on the porch was Adermoor Cove’s mayor, Peter Richardson, with a bottle of wine in his hand.

Carlos had only spoken with him a few times, mostly just chitchat, but not enough to really say he knew anything about the man; he’d been elected while Carlos had lived in Boston and was now in the middle of his second term. To him Richardson was the mascot for the town, showing up for the press conferences and festivals that went on during the summer to attract tourists, always dressed in a pressed three piece suit with his hair combed just right. Now knowing everything he did about the town, and what the leaders did to cover up the truth, he felt his stomach curdle at the sight of the man.

“Sorry,” Peter Richardson said, flashing his white toothed smile and somehow making sure to look sympathetic while he did it. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.” He looked over Carlos’s shoulder. “Good afternoon Moira.”

Moira had appeared behind Carlos to see who was at the door. She greeted the mayor back but looked just as confused and surprised as Carlos.

“I just thought I’d bring this by.” The mayor held out the wine to Carlos. “Just a bottle of Pinot Noir. I thought we could have a glass of wine in remembrance of your father. I didn’t know you would be here Moira. Feel free to join us...unless of course this is a bad time.”

Go fuck yourself, Carlos wanted to tell him. You can shove your bottle of Pinot Noir up your ass was another. Here was the man responsible for covering up the infection. Or at least this was what he suspected. But he bit his tongue. If Mrs Dandridge could disappear as if she had never existed then so could he. Acting out would not help him or Lane who he had promised to help. So he smiled his best smile. “Sure. It just so happens we have another seat at the table. Don’t mind us, we were just having a beer.”

A corkscrew was laying on the counter beside the bottle opener Carlos had used. When he went to open the wine, Richardson waved him away. “Let me do it. You and Moira just sit down.”

Moira gave Carlos another confused look. What the hell? she thought.

Carlos shrugged, relieved he wasn’t the only one who thought the mayor’s visit was strange.

They watched in silence as the mayor grabbed glasses from the cabinets. He moved with the confidence and familiarity of someone who knew the kitchen well, popping the cork from the bottle and pouring the liquid into glasses. He joined them at the table. The three of them held their glasses up to their father and said, “To Enzo” and sipped from their glasses. The mayor smacked his lips appreciatively at the taste. “Good stuff isn’t it?” he said.

Carlos said it was but found it too tart. He’d always been a beer drinker not a wine drinker.

Peter studied the urn for a moment, still sitting on the counter. “It’s beautiful. It suits him. I held a great respect for your father, Carlos. We became very close in the six years we worked together. It’s a shame the way he died.”

“Thank you for saying so, sir,” Carlos said.

“Call me Peter, please. At least the animal that took his life and took Ramona has been brought down.” He glanced at Moira. “Of course we will continue to do everything we can to find her.”

“It’s been a week,” Moira said. “If there’s anything of her left to find it would have been found by now.”

“Don’t give up hope yet. She may just turn up yet, unharmed.” Peter looked back at Carlos. “Until then this town will make the necessary adjustments. It always has. The first adjustment we’ll make is getting a new chief of police.” He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled something out. A square leather case the size of his hand. He slid it across the table to Carlos.

Already knowing what it was didn’t stop Carlos from feeling as if his Adam’s Apple had swelled to the size of a golf ball. He flipped it open with clumsy fingers.

“Your father’s badge,” Richardson said.

Enzo’s badge had been polished to a shine to look brand new. The last time he’d seen it, his father was being zipped up into a body bag; the badge had been splattered with blood. He looked up at the mayor. He felt as if his chair was sinking into the floor. “I take it you don’t mean for me to keep this just as a keepsake.”

“No. You can have it if you want to but it seems only right that you take your father’s position as chief of police. I know you were a cop in Boston and were promoted to detective. I called your old chief, Bekket, in Boston, and he spoke very highly of you. Said you were one hell of a detective. There’s no one more qualified to run things around here than you.”

“How can you ask him to make a decision like this?” Moira had narrowed her eyes at the mayor. “He just lost his father.”

Richardson looked at her for just a second, long enough for Carlos to see the look of distaste cross his face before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The look of sympathy was back in place. “Of course I want you to take some time to think about it, Carlos. I know this is a big question I’m asking you and you have other things you have to take care of first. But do think of it.” He made a show of looking down at his watch. “I wish I could stay longer but there are other things I have to do. Feel free to keep the bottle of wine and badge as a gift. One way or the other I know Enzo would want you to have it.”

Moira, watching from the door, waited until the mayor had gotten into his car before saying, “That bastard. How could he just show up and dump a burden like this on you the day you get your father’s ashes?”

Carlos didn’t say anything, couldn’t get his brain going enough to respond. Between the beer and the wine his face was hot and the pain he felt was a distant echo. To him this was a good thing.

“At the hospital you and Lane said the town covers the truth up so the rest of the world doesn’t know the truth,” Moira was saying. “How much does he have to do with it?”

“I don’t know. I can only guess.” Carlos sighed, suddenly feeling very exhausted. “Right now I feel so exhausted I think I could lay down and sleep for a year.”

“I know how you feel because I feel the same way too. Ever since what happened to Ramona I just don’t have any energy. Do you want me to go?”

“Do you want to go?”

Moira shook her head. “Honestly I don’t want to be alone. But if you need to be I’ll understand.”

He smiled. “I don’t want to be alone either. You can take the spare bedroom, I’ll take Dad’s room. We can take a nap and when we get up we can have dinner and talk about things.”

She smiled back. “Sounds good.”