Scar Tissue Page 4

  “What’s your opinion so far?” she asked, her eyes flipping from me to Griff.

  “He’s a dick,” I volunteered. “As far as Gwen goes, she didn’t say enough for me to form an opinion. And Ashley? The perfect child, which is the only place I’m in agreement with Greg. Her suicide doesn’t make sense.”

  Carole glanced at Griff and raised her eyebrows.

  “Greg’s manning the controls, over his wife at least and if it’s that way with her, I could assume it was that way with Ashley. Maybe she hit a breaking point.”

  Carole nodded. “He handles Gwen, always has, but Ashley was a bit of a different story.”

  “How so?” Griff asked.

  “They were never close until recently. Clayton was Gregg’s whole world.”

  “Clayton?”

  “Their son. He was fifteen-years-old when he died. Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Ashley was at the end of her junior year in high school.”

  “They didn’t mention him.”

  “No, I’m sure they didn’t. But he’s front and center in Ashley’s striving for perfection.”

  “Isn’t Hodgkin’s rare at that age?” I asked.

  “It is. Only about ten to fifteen percent of cases hit children and teens. When he was diagnosed it was like the ground opened and swallowed them all. But Greg…after Clayton died Greg became almost non-existent within the household. For him, the sun rose and set on Clayton and when he was gone it was like he’d taken Greg with him. Ashley had always been more of an afterthought to her father. It wasn’t until she took off in track, literally, that he began taking an interest in her.”

  “And Gwen? How did she handle Clayton’s death?”

  She fell apart of course. I guess that’s to be expected. What mother wouldn’t? She sold the nursery she’d run for fifteen years. It was her home away from home. The kids grew up there, went to work with her every day until they reached school age. I don’t think she realized it at the time, but giving up the nursery was probably the worst thing she could have done. It became another loss to grieve.”

  “How was their marriage after losing Clayton?” Griff asked. “I mean, they’re together, but are they really together?”

  “Greg has always been an ass. He and I never hit it off, even before they were married, but he’s a provider. I’m sure you noticed when you were at the house. Gwen doesn’t want for anything. I’ve never been sure if she married him out of love or need.”

  “If she had her own nursery she must have done all right financially,” I said. “She could have left him.”

  “I don’t mean financial need. I don’t think the money means much to her.

  Gwen has always needed a man to control her life. Growing up it was our dad. He controlled everything we did and not in a good way.”

  “He was physical?”

  Carole nodded. “He knocked my mother around. He didn’t touch us kids, but it was a rare day my mom escaped a back hand if his coffee wasn’t hot enough.”

  “Is that why his first marriage failed?”

  “First marriage?”

  “Gwen mentioned that you have a step-brother.”

  “Oh yeah, Michael. No, he was the product of an affair. I never knew him well. Neither did Gwen even though his mother tried her best to inject him into our family. She actually dropped him off one day while Gwen was having an end-of-the-school-year pool party.”

  “Didn’t go well?” I asked.

  “That’s an understatement. Let’s just say Gwen wasn’t the kindest teenager. She proceeded to point out to the laughter of her elite, cheerleader friends everything her stepbrother lacked, starting with his financials and ending with his physique. He left in a hurry.”

  “Can’t say I blame him,” Griff sympathized.

  “Yeah, and that wasn’t the only time she did it. The three of us were close in age, so we ran into each other often enough at the movie theater or a party even though we were at different schools. Small town, you know?”

  “Michael’s mother was a chambermaid at the Best Western. There was a lot of animosity between her and my dad. Gwen and I were in private school and she needed food stamps to feed Michael. I think when she got pregnant she was hoping her child would get a taste of the good life. But it didn’t happen.”

  “She didn’t get child support?”

  “From what I’ve gathered, it was sporadic at best. My mother fought like hell not to give ‘that woman and her brat’, as she called them, a dime.”

  “Didn’t the state step in?” Griff asked.

  “She got assistance with heat and food and section nine housing, I think,” Carol added. “And I’m sure my dad paid child support, but it probably wasn’t close to what she deserved. From the fights I overheard growing up, she was a constant source of conflict for my parents.”

  “Good old state assistance,” I said. “Just dole out the freebies, but don’t hold the father accountable.”

  Griff held up his hand. “Don’t start,” he said.

  He knew better than to get me going on state run programs for women and making taxpayers pick up the pieces while the deadbeat dads walked away.

  “I haven’t seen him or his mother in years,” Carole said. “They sort of faded out of our lives after high school.”

  Griff shook his head. “It seems like Gwen would have looked for someone a little more laid back after growing up with a father like that.”

  “The devil you know,” I offered.

  “Exactly,” Carole said. “In Greg’s defense he’s never touched Gwen. But she can’t breathe without asking how much air she should take in. Oddly enough, she’s happy with that. She relies on him for everything. She accepts his control and in return she’s got the picture-perfect home with the two-point-two kids. Ashley was an incredible success and the world looked favorably on Gwen and her family even if what went on behind the scene wasn’t quite the same as what the public saw.”

  “So as demure as Gwen comes across, she has an agenda?”

  “Oh, to be sure. Greg is her agenda.”

  “You mean keeping him.” I said.

  Carole nodded. “Or at least maintaining the illusion. Clayton’s the only one who ever infiltrated Greg emotionally and after he died, Gwen was sure Greg would leave her. She became obsessed with ways to keep him, not out of love but out of need. It was Ashley who finally drew him out of the world he’d retreated into after losing Clayton, but it was her success that he was enamored with, not his daughter.”

  “How did Gwen feel about that?” I asked.

  “I don’t think she cared how he felt or why he became involved with Ashley, as long as he was. Once she saw that Ashley’s running was drawing Greg out of his stupor and into the family she’d have moved mountains to make sure Ashley stuck with it.”

  Carole closed her eyes and shook her head. “She was, is, a good mother. She’s just so afraid of being on her own. I wish it wasn’t the case. She’d do fine without him, but she has no confidence. For her sake, Greg and I have learned to tolerate each other.” She glanced out the window across from our table, her eyes filling. “I don’t know if I can do that anymore.”

  “You blame him?” Griff asked.

  “I don’t know. I want to, but I’m not sure he deserves it. Clayton’s death impacted Ashley as much as it did Greg. She and her brother had been best friends. I mean they both had other kids they hung around with, school chums, but they were close. They complemented each other. Ashley was much like her dad, but in a good way. She had his drive, but also a softer side. Clayton was funny and giving and completely laid-back. Nothing ever riled him, not even his diagnosis. He took it in stride like he did everything else. Even in his final days he was comforting them more than the other way around. And when he was gone, the sun went down for all of them. That was just over five years ago and it hasn’t risen since, even though Ashley made it her mission.”

  “She overcompensated,” Griff said.

  “Overcompensated doesn’t even
come close. The girl was driven. She was possessed. The only goal she had in life was to put a smile back on her parents’ faces.”

  “Hence the straight A student, star athlete, acceptance to Johns Hopkins,” Griff said.

  Carole nodded and waited until the waitress had set our plates in front of us and refilled our coffee before continuing.

  “There was nothing she couldn’t or wouldn’t do.”

  “And be the best at,” I added.

  “Not just the best, she had to be miles ahead of her closest competitor in the classroom, on the track, even when it came to her looks. She scoured the magazines for the right clothing, the right make-up, emulating the models’ physical appearance until her body gave out and she collapsed weighing in at ninety pounds.”

  “When was that?” Griff asked scraping his spoon along the inside of his bowl arranging his oatmeal into a center mound.

  It was a habit that drove me nuts and I nudged him with my elbow. “Stop,” I said, my teeth clenched.

  He stifled a smile and nudged me back then keeping his eyes on Carole, “Sorry,” he said. “When was that?”

  “Just before her high school graduation. She ended up in the Psych unit at Maine Medical Center diagnosed with anorexia, fatigue and dehydration. She didn’t attend the ceremony, but she received her diploma. She completed her final exams in the hospital and still aced them.”

  “How did Greg react to that?”

  “He was concerned that if Fensworth found out she’d been hospitalized they’d withdraw her acceptance.”

  Griff shook his head. “Father of the year.”

  “Two graduations,” I said.

  “What’s that?” Carole asked draining the last of her coffee.

  “She missed two graduations. I mean, she worked her butt off for four years and then misses the payoff both times. What’s that mean?”

  Carole shrugged. “Ask her shrink.”

  “Who’s that?’ Griff asked slipping a notebook and pen from his sport coat pocket.

  “Dr. Varkin. He’s at Maine Medical Center. I think she was still seeing him off and on until…until she…” Carole bit her lip. “It’s hard to say the words, you know? It’s like it makes it more real when you say it out loud.”

  Griff touched her hand. “Take your time.”

  She picked up her napkin. “I think she was still having sessions until just before she died.” She dabbed her eye. “I loved my niece. Maybe that’s why I’m telling you. You need to hear this stuff if you’re going to figure out what happened, right?”

  “Griff nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “And the asshole will never tell you.”

  “You think he’ll care if we talk to Dr. Varkin?” Griff asked.

  “We don’t need his permission,” I said. “Ashley was an adult.”

  “I’d like to mention it to him out of respect before we do. He’s hired us, after all. Don’t want to piss him off.”

  “I think he’ll want you to pursue anything that’ll prove she didn’t jump from that building,” Carole said. “It’s a black mark on a perfect life. Greg doesn’t like black marks.”

  I swallowed the dregs of my coffee and looked at her. “I thought his wanting answers came more from a love for his daughter and protecting her legacy.”

  “Greg is a narcissist. Ashley’s success was his success. He took credit for her accomplishments saying he’d raised a miracle child. He loved Ashley the student and Ashley the athlete. I’m not so sure he ever knew Ashley the girl.”

  “Did Ashley know that?” I asked.

  “All she saw was that her achievements made her father happy. She didn’t care about much else. After Clayton died her sole purpose was to reinstate happiness into the household.” She turned away and wiped her eyes. “Even if it killed her.”

  “And Gwen?”

  “In the beginning, she told Ashley that nothing was going to bring Clayton back. It was a hole that would never be filled. Gwen explained to her that she and Clayton were separate people and one couldn’t replace the other. She loved her daughter and couldn’t have cared less about ribbons and trophies. But once she saw the effect Ashley’s success was having on Greg, she knew it was the key to keeping him. She began fueling Ashley’s drive as much as he did.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t only Gwen and Greg’s loss,” I said. “Maybe Ashley was trying to fill a void within herself too.”

  Carole looked into her empty coffee cup then up at us and shrugged, her eyes brimming. “We’ll never know.”

  We paid our bill and headed for the parking lot. I couldn’t have felt much more despondent, that poor girl, her contradicting mother, her narcissistic father. We hesitated before getting into our cars.

  “What now?” Carole asked.

  “Talk to Greg, then Varkin,” Griff said.

  “You know, something keeps bugging me, but I don’t want to sound disrespectful. I mean my niece was dedicated, she worked her butt off, but…”

  Griff and I waited for her to continue.

  “I mean how can a kid be that good? It’s not natural. Even in high school she wasn’t just at the head of her class she was doing honors classes as a sophomore and not just in one or two subjects, in all of them. And she didn’t only win her college races. She won them by minutes not tenths of seconds like in most competitions.”

  “You mean, you think she might have been using something?” Griff asked.

  “Oh, God no. That would never have been her style. She was going for a Masters in Bioethics.” Carole shook her head. “It’s just, I don’t know. How does a kid get that good and stay that good consistently? I have a thirteen-year-old son. He’s a B/C student, loves video games and hit a triple last season in baseball. That’s his biggest accomplishment so far. And I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

  Griff shrugged. “Being the best isn’t always a good thing. Look where it got Ashley.”

  Carole nodded. “Thanks for what you’re doing. The truth is, we all want to know what happened.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” Griff said.

  “What do you think?” I asked when we got in the car.

  “It’s interesting that Carole thinks her niece was a little too good to be true. Most families revel in a kid’s success. They don’t question it.”

  “What do you think that means, the fact that she’s questioning it?”

  “Nothing right now but put it in your back pocket.”

  SIX

  We checked in with Katie. Nothing pressing so we decided to inform Greg of our plan to contact Dr. Varkin.

  “You up for another round at Lamberts?” Griff asked slipping his cell phone back into his pocket. He took a left toward the Casco Bay Bridge, connecting Portland to South Portland and Cape Elizabeth.

  “Greg agreed to meet with us?”

  “Wants to see his money at work.”

  The house didn’t look as foreboding today when we pulled alongside the curb out front. Sunshine works wonders. Greg swung the front door wide and waited for us to reach him before speaking. He was dressed in white shorts and a pink polo shirt that accentuated his tanned skin and defined biceps.

  “Heading for the tennis court?” Griff asked.

  I think it was tongue in cheek, but Griff’s subtle. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

  “You play?” Greg asked.

  “Never have,” Griff said. “Give me a beer and a baseball and I’m happy.”

  Greg didn’t answer, just stepped aside and waved us in.

  I swallowed a smile and followed the men into a study off the main entry. An extra-large mahogany desk dominated the room. Greg took the throne behind it. Griff and I slid into matching black leather wingbacks facing him. On either side of us the walls were comprised of floor to ceiling books, interspersed with silver trophies to break up the landscape.

  “Yours?” I asked, indicating the trophies.

  “Actually, those are Ashley’s,” he said.

  Ashley’s trophies
on display in Greg’s study; apparently, Carole had been right about Gregg accepting Ashley’s success as his own. A huge window that took up most of the wall behind him looked onto Gwen’s gardens and a perfectly manicured lawn that sloped to a pond complete with ducks.

  “Is that Gwen down there?” I asked, seeing someone standing at the water’s edge.

  Greg glanced over his shoulder and looked back at us. “Lunchtime for the water fowl,” he said. “She has to have something to care for.” He lowered his eyes for a moment acknowledging the implication of his words. Straightening up he raised his eyebrows. “You said on the phone that you had a question for me.”

  “After going over my notes last night, I realized I’d forgotten to ask you something,” Griff said. “Was Ashley under any kind of medical care or on any medications for physical or mental health?”

  At first Greg didn’t respond. He took a deep breath and studied his wedding band as he rolled it around his finger. “What makes you think that?” he asked looking up.

  “If she was, it could be important.”

  “Because?” Greg kept his eyes on Griff, still fiddling with his ring,

  Griff shifted in is seat. “Mr. Lambert, a person in good mental and physical health doesn’t jump off a building. Ashley seemed to be at the pinnacle of both, which is what makes her suicide so hard to accept. Thinking about that last night, I began to wonder if there was something underlying her success, some illness or obstacle she was trying to overcome.”

  “Ashley lost her brother almost six years ago. Since then, she’s seen a psychiatrist whenever she felt the need.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Griff said. “It must make Ashley’s death that much more unbearable.”

  “Greg nodded. “Dr. Varkin,” he said. “I don’t know his exact location; my wife made all the arrangements.”

  “Were you in agreement that Ashley should see a psychiatrist?” I asked picking up the indifference in his voice.

  “No one in my family has needed mental health professionals, but I believe there’ve been a few on my wife’s side who’ve required such services. I decided since that was something my wife was familiar with she should be the one to handle it. We didn’t discuss it.”