The Body on the Beach, page 8
She took a sip of wine, touching her kerchief to her lips. Frank noticed Susan was still wearing the beautiful gold friendship ring given to her by Marie. A stylized rosette. They had exchanged identical rings the summer they both turned sixteen.
Frank was confident that Susan had something else to share.
“Now he has taken an interest in local politics, you know. He plans on taking a run at Arthur Barnes’s seat.”
Frank tried not to act surprised. “Really. How interesting. I wouldn’t have considered Allan as a politician. Not to say he isn’t capable, Susan.”
“One of the huge effects the war has had on him is his belief that we can change things for the better. That we need to become involved.”
Frank quietly wondered if this was Susan’s view or Allan’s. He wouldn’t say it to Susan, but he honestly didn’t see Allan as a public figure, having to take definitive stands on issues that might be controversial. Susan, on the other hand, would be a more likely candidate if women were permitted to run.
Holding a silver serving tray of sweets, Allan came back and interrupted their conversation. “I have some of your favourites here,” he said. Frank saw the peanut cookies Mrs. Thomey used to sneak to them sometimes close to dinner or during late-night camp-outs in the backyard. It was their little secret. Mr. Thomey was kept in the dark.
Frank thought that Marie’s passing would have been raised earlier. Perhaps, knowing how distraught he was with the way the relationship ended, they were being discreet.
It was time. “I guess you spoke to Father Shea this weekend. It’s so sad. I didn’t think that my coming back here was going to be so trying.”
“Yes, Father Shea has been here twice. Of course, he knew how close we were to Marie. We heard that you were the policeman who had to answer the call. It must have been a shock for you. Honestly, Allan and I had decided that we wouldn’t mention her passing until you brought it up. We know how sad you must be feeling. Father Shea wanted to get our opinion on the wake and funeral since she has no living relatives. You probably know that her remains haven’t been released.”
Frank nodded. Susan continued. “Father Shea felt it was best that, once released, her body could be left with the undertaker, Mr. Rogers, until her funeral. We told him that we would assist with the church if they needed help. Is it true that Marie may have died by her own hand? We heard rumours through the grapevine, and Father Shea seemed a little uncertain how the church should proceed.”
Frank avoided any details. He dared not mention that the suspected cause of death was cocaine. Nor was he about to mention the note, or Marie’s unaddressed and unfinished letter.
Susan added, “You know the church’s stand on suicide. If it’s proven she actually took her own life, it’s very likely Mass won’t be held in the church, by canon law. In fact, she would not be permitted to lay at rest with her father in consecrated ground. But Frank, as long as the reason for her passing remains inconclusive, the church will treat her burial like any other, I’m sure.”
Frank couldn’t understand the church’s position on suicide. If someone was part of the church community, it would be painful for family and friends if a loved one couldn’t be buried on church property. He thought it to be the opposite of the compassion Jesus preached.
Allan and Susan looked sympathetically at each other. Susan meticulously laid her glass down on the wicker table and reached for a napkin. Touching the kerchief to her eyes, she said, “Franky, I am so sorry.” No one had called him Franky in fifteen years. Allan reached over to hold Susan’s hand. It was a show of support, Frank believed, for whatever Susan was about to say.
“You know that Marie stayed on with Mr. Thomey after you left,” she said.
Frank nodded.
“Well, after he retired to England, we kept her on. Although it was rough going at times, our friendship didn’t falter through the years.”
“Rough going at times? How so?”
“She hadn’t found anyone in her life after . . .” Frank knew that she was referring to his leaving Harbour Grace. “She saw her doctor more often than anyone else. As much as we encouraged her, she seldom socialized with others, unless we had friends come here.”
Frank didn’t say anything, but Susan’s comments didn’t jive with Marie’s letter. Clearly she did have someone else. He wondered how Marie could have been so effective at concealing her love from Susan and Allan.
“In the beginning, she’d come to work, an excellent employee, and oftentimes helped Mrs. Thomey around the house. It wasn’t by-the-clock with her. She stayed until her duties were done and most times well beyond. Then, after a couple of months, not long after you left, things went badly. Without warning, she had a major mental breakdown. Severe depression. No one has any idea why. Early one rainy morning that fall, she was found on the edge of Ship Head Cliff, staring down at the rocks below. Fortunately, poor old Mr. Callahan was concerned about her strange behaviour the night before. He followed her down and grabbed her at the very last minute.”
Frank felt shaken by the news of Marie’s act of desperation. But what was the cause? What had driven her to such a low? He felt guilty for not having reached out to her. If only he’d known. He realized he shouldn’t carry the burden of Marie’s death, but logic didn’t dictate one’s emotions. Guilt happened anyway.
In an attempt to deflect any observable emotion, Frank reached for his tea. It was cold and overly sweet. Although he was aware that Allan and Susan were waiting for a reply, he thought it best to hear the whole story before saying anything.
“Marie spent days shut in her house under the doctor’s care. I visited her, but she hardly spoke, avoiding saying what triggered her breakdown. After a few days, with the assistance of the Presentation nuns, her father sent her to Boston for a while. She was admitted to a convent asylum, a psychiatric hospital, where she was able to rest and recover. She was away for many months, almost a full year. Mr. Callahan assured me that she was making progress. It seems the poor man spent quite a dollar on her treatment.”
Allan remained quiet, continuously focused on his wife.
“Before she left, Mr. Thomey told her that her position would be here when she got back. Allan’s father was true to his word. Honestly, Frank, when she did return, she was a new woman. She was bubbly, energetic, open, and back to her old self. We believed that she turned the corner, living with her father, and attending to him when he became ill.”
11
The signs of hope offered by Marie’s recovery didn’t resonate with Frank at all, since he knew the tragic ending to this story. He desired to cut to the chase and see what might have transpired with Marie. His first thought was to show them Marie’s letter. It might be a good strategy to come out and ask them if they knew who might have been the subject of her waning love. Then, strategically, he decided to keep his cards close to his chest. Sometimes it was best not to share too much.
“So, I gather things went badly? How so?” Although Frank wanted to get to the heart of the matter, he tried not to sound curt.
“You know, Frank, we did everything we could to get her to stop.” Allan laid his hand on Susan’s. “We think she was likely drinking for years.” Susan wiped her eyes again and looked to Allan, seeming to want his approval to go on. Allan remained quiet, and nor did Frank interject, patiently waiting for Susan to continue.
“After Mr. Callahan’s death in 1910, her drinking got worse. We lost the contract with the Harbour Grace Standard, and we were going through a bad time. Of course, we were busy as we made changes here at the office, but we kept her on despite the financial challenges. It was around that time we began to notice little things. A smell of alcohol on her breath. Some unusual behaviours and unexplainable mood swings. Soon it became painfully obvious.
“Mondays were always off to a rocky start for her. She often came in late, looking like hell. Maybe it was because she was so naturally gorgeous that it was so damned noticeable. She was invariably pale and unsteady. There were times when she was incoherent, Frank. Very lethargic.” Susan took a deep breath. “While her father was healthy, she seemed to manage. When his health began to deteriorate, it seemed she fell apart altogether.”
“I would not have predicted that Marie would go down that road,” said Frank.
Allan spoke up. “That’s not something anyone thought, Frank. Life can be full of nasty surprises.” Frank picked up a hint of anger in Allan’s words. He hoped Allan would shed more light on his thoughts. But he remained tight-lipped.
“During the war, in Allan’s absence, Marie and I kept this business going. Of course, I pretty well had to lay down the law. I was very firm with her. It was difficult to do, but I had no choice. I told her up front that there was to be no imbibing at work or in my house. But, you know, she was such a good worker.” Susan paused to finish the wine in her glass. “To make matters worse, it was during the war that her father’s farm took a downturn. Eventually, her salary seemed to be the only source of income carrying them both. We couldn’t help her financially beyond what we were paying. It was so sad for them.”
She looked right into Frank’s eyes. “Times were difficult, Franky, for everyone. Maxwell was young, missed his father terribly.”
Frank couldn’t believe what he’d heard. A child? Grasping that she had become more emotional, he didn’t interrupt. Her voice cracked. “Four years is a long time without your father, and me without a husband. Maxwell dearly loved Marie. Over the years, he became very attached to her. She was a second mother to him. There were many nights when Marie would see that her father was okay and then come to stay at our house, just to be with Maxwell. Honestly, during those times, she didn’t take a drink. I couldn’t have had a better friend. I doubt Maxwell will ever recover from her death.”
“Maxwell? You have a boy?”
“Yes, of course. You wouldn’t have known. I’m so sorry we didn’t mention it earlier. He’s grown up so fast. We are so proud of him. He’s everything a young man should be.”
Having been quiet and reserved, Allan now interrupted excitedly. “He loves cricket, Frank. He’s a bowler with our old team, the Drapers. He’s taken up your old position. You’ve got to see him. And he’s a rower, too. In fact, he’s on the pond right now getting ready for the regatta in July. You got back just in time, Frank.”
Frank was pleased to hear the excitement creep back into Allan’s voice. “Congratulations. I am so pleased for you both. For sure, Allan, we’ll definitely take in a game together. And you know I’ll be at the regatta. We’ll have to celebrate.”
“Absolutely,” added Susan. “I will have to get you over for dinner some night soon. Maxwell, by the way, is enthralled about the police. He constantly says he wants to be a policeman, Frank.”
Susan scurried inside and returned with a framed photograph. Frank realized it was the same as the one at Marie’s apartment, of a young boy dressed in a Drapers cricket uniform. “I think he’s the most handsome boy in Harbour Grace.”
“He most certainly is, Susan. All of you are very fortunate. I’m looking forward to meeting him.” Frank smiled and touched her hand. This wasn’t a gesture that came easy for him.
“Early in our marriage, we discovered that it was unlikely we could ever have children. I miscarried. As a young woman, I had infection after infection. The doctors told us that if an opportunity came up, we should consider adoption. The result was this very fine young boy.”
“I would say you are all so lucky.”
Word of Maxwell had certainly changed the tone of the conversation. But he knew he had yet to dig a little deeper to learn more about Marie. Frank assumed, by now, Allan and Susan knew why he was there, that he was really doing an investigation. Being in uniform, they should have realized this was an official visit. Regardless, it was time to drill down a little further, especially concerning Edmund Munden. He allowed a second or two for the excitement to settle.
“So, tell me. You say she didn’t socialize much, but how did Edmund Munden ever connect with Marie? If I might say, I didn’t sense any chemistry between the two of them years ago.”
Marie and Allan showed some surprise at Frank’s question. They looked at each other as if they hadn’t expected the question.
“What makes you think there was any connection between them?” asked Susan.
Frank grew a little more serious. “While at her apartment, I saw Marie in a photo taken at Bannerman House. The picture was likely taken in 1918 or thereabouts. Edmund was in his full Royal Navy regalia, standing arm and arm with a very happy-looking Marie. It was obviously a celebration of some kind, as the folks in the background were dressed for a formal occasion.”
“I know the exact occasion. You must recall, Franky, how each year the regatta committee paid tribute to a deserving resident of our community by making him the honorary chair of the regatta. Well, Edmund was given that honour. In addition to having served his country, he’d always been a rower and an excellent coxswain. In fact, he still rows with the Masters. Marie was always very athletic. She rowed with us for years as a teenager in the women’s race and continued until last year. She was always enthusiastic about rowing. As ill as she was, every year she continued to race. Well, I believe that’s where they first became friends. Literally on the pond at Lady Lake.”
“Yes, but how did Marie end up in a picture with Edmund at Bannerman House for that particular occasion? They appeared to be more than friends. If you know what I mean.” Frank hoped that the Thomeys didn’t misinterpret the question as coming from a position of envy or regret.
“Well, you see, Franky, we truly believe it was only friendship and nothing more.” Susan glanced at Allan, offering him the opportunity to contribute. Allan had reverted to his previous quiet demeanour.
“Actually, Edmund Munden didn’t date any women who I knew. From what we understand, except for Marie, he didn’t associate with females, not even socially. Being handsome and wealthy, he is considered to be one of the most eligible bachelors in Conception Bay. But it seems he was always playing hard to get. Not once has anyone mentioned his courting a woman. I don’t think anything romantic happened between them.
“Maxwell was just learning to play cricket with other young boys belonging to the Harbour Grace Cricket Club. Edmund was a member of that organization, too, and he volunteered as their coach. While we were busy at the shop, Marie attended practice with Maxwell. With Shannon Park being a long way from Victoria Street, Maxwell would have to traipse through the busy downtown streets alone. Marie was happy to go with him. It was through these two activities, I believe, that Edmund and Marie found something in common.”
“I see.”
“Of course, he left for the navy. I believe she may have written him, like many others who wrote to support those who fought overseas. That doesn’t mean she and Edmund were in love.”
Frank nodded he understood her point.
“Then, shortly after his return, seemingly out of nowhere one day, he came by the shop and gave her a formal invitation to the Bannerman House reception. Although that was the fourth year the regatta had been cancelled because of the war, the committee went ahead with their celebratory event, anyway. More of a fundraiser, you know. My guess is that he simply wanted her to attend with him. A companion. That’s how she ended up in that photo.
“After that, we knew Edmund would occasionally give Maxwell and Marie a ride home from the pond or from the field. That’s all we made if it. I think that reception was the only time folks saw them together in public. We know that they may have gotten together a couple of other times, but not in public. One day last summer, Allan saw Edmund and Marie drive off together, but she didn’t did speak about it. Honestly, we have no idea where they went.”
Allan reached over and poured another glass of wine for Susan. He asked, “Can I get you more tea, Frank?”
“No, thanks. I have to get going soon. Susan, maybe they were more serious than you think. They could have been courting and preferred no one knew.”
“That would have been a huge surprise to me. As you said earlier, they appeared not to have that type of attraction for each other. When Allan happened to see Edmund pick up Marie, it was in front of her apartment. She had moved out of her father’s house early last fall, shortly after his death, to take up living quarters at MacKay’s boarding house. I think the old homestead was just too rundown and expensive. The place was practically uninhabitable. Allan also believes the repairs and upkeep were beyond her means.” Susan took another sip. “You know, she didn’t take a thing, not one item, out of that house. She wouldn’t even take any furniture for her new apartment. As far as I know, she left things just as they were.”
Frank was saddened to hear that the Marie who once had so much had ended up with so little.
“We have no idea where Edmund and Marie went or what they did the day Edmund picked her up. After that rendezvous, we didn’t see them together again. For the rest of the summer, she grew more and more withdrawn. She hardly spoke to us at work. She acted very differently, even distancing herself from Maxwell. We didn’t speak about Edmund Munden—she wouldn’t entertain any discussion. We always knew when things were going badly for her personally, because that’s when she became less talkative. We didn’t see any sign of alcohol during that time, though. She could have had it at home, I suppose.”
Frank remembered the empty bottles under her bed. He was even more puzzled. How could Marie have ended up like this? What was Edmund Munden’s interest in Marie if it wasn’t love? And why did it end so abruptly?
“Well, Susan, I’d better be moving soon. In hindsight, it’s too bad that Marie and Edmund didn’t fall in love. They may have been good for each other.”
