Marvin was a stout man in his early fifties who greeted her with a warm handshake, having just scrubbed his hands of grease. Elena couldn’t remember him from her childhood in Millbrook, but Marvin said he knew her mother pretty well.
“I’ve been fixing her car for years!” he said. “I knew your father, too. He was a great man. He helped me repaint the shed out back.” He gestured vaguely, although from inside the garage, Elena couldn’t see the shed in question.
“I miss him,” Elena offered, her stomach heavy with sadness.
“We all do,” Marvin said. “It’s tough, losing a parent. Everyone has to tackle it in their own way.”
Elena took a deep breath and told herself not to break down. She wondered if Marvin said it that way to let her off the hook for not being here for the funeral.
Marvin had sealed her cash in an envelope that he kept behind his desk. It all felt quite old-school, which Elena liked. She checked in the envelope to see a little more than eight hundred dollars, which was only about two hundred less thanshe’d paid for the thing. She paid Marvin what he was owed and still had more than enough left over.
“I can’t believe that car made it all the way to Millbrook,” Marvin said, throwing his hands up. “I wouldn’t have driven it as far as the post office!” This was funny because the post office was literally across the street from the auto shop.
As Marvin and Elena chatted for a bit, a surprisingly audacious vehicle snapped into the driveway—a bright red Lamborghini with a convertible top. Elena took a breath and said, “You don’t see something like that every day, especially not here in Millbrook.”
“No, you do not,” Marvin affirmed coldly. “He brought it in about six months ago, though. He likes to drive fast. He wrecks it. You wouldn’t think a judge would be so reckless, would you?”
Elena’s heart lit up like a Christmas tree. “A judge?” But Marvin was already out of the office, preparing to greet the judge. Elena followed him, shoving the envelope of cash into her bag.
The judge who got out of the Lamborghini was in his late fifties, with dyed golden hair and a warm, tan complexion. It was clear that he took numerous vacations and maintained excellent health. That, or it was like they always said: "Evil people never get old."
Was it possible that this was the same judge from the Cranberry Cove who’d said he’d “look the other way” on a construction man’s crimes—all in pursuit of the country club and building project on the opposite end of the cove? Could this be the man who was out for himself and the other millionaires in town, and no one else? Elena watched from inside the garage, perking up her ears to try to overhear what the judge and Marvin said. Twice, the judge cackled in a way that made her head spin. It seemed likely that he’d crashed the car again, carelessly, andneeded Marvin to make his problems go away. That was what money could do for you, she knew.
“That’s what I pay you for,” the judge said a few minutes later, sounding exasperated. Elena wondered if Marvin was giving the man a hard time.
Marvin hung his head. Elena could see the breath coming from between his lips, fogging in the cold. Finally, Marvin reached out for the judge’s keys and got into the driver’s side to bring it into the garage. This forced Elena to get out of the way. She headed outside, adjusting her bag strap on her shoulder, her eyes on the wealthy judge.
The Lamborghini was loud and abrasive, announcing itself with the engine's roar. The judge looked pleased. Elena walked closer to him, watching his expression as Marvin drove the car inside. It was almost as though she were invisible to him.
And then, he allowed his eyes to fall upon her, and his smile lit up in recognition.
“Goodness me,” he said. “You’re the spitting image of her, aren’t you?”
Elena was caught off guard. She hadn’t expected familiarity in the judge. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your mother,” the judge said, delivering a snide smile. “You look just like her. You could be her twin. Oh, and your grandmother, too.”
Elena’s heart jumped into her throat. If she hadn’t been sure of the judge’s identity before this, she was one hundred percent clear on it now.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Elena said stiffly.
The judge extended his hand. “Judge Baxter Drury,” he said.
Elena shook his hand and kept his sinister eye contact because she didn’t want him to think she was weak. “A pleasure,” she lied. “How do you know my mother?”
“Everyone knows each other around here,” Judge Drury said with a wink. “And you know as well as I do what kind of woman your mother is, or was.” He let his smile falter and added, “Terrible to hear about her diagnosis.”
Again feeling smacked, Elena was spitting with questions. But all at once, Marvin returned, ready to discuss the work he needed to do on the judge’s car. Marvin gave her a look that meant he wanted her out of his hair so he could deal with Judge Drury. It wasn’t meant to be unkind.
Elena hurried to the newsroom to find Natalie and report on what had just happened. But when she arrived, she found Natalie up to her ears in other people’s edits about tomorrow’s Christmas articles, proclaiming the importance of the Oxford comma as the other journalists looked on. Elena texted Natalie: Thank you for doing that! Looks stressful, then took to her office and sat with her head on the desk. She sat and ran through everything Judge Drury had said, searching for clues.
It took nearly ten minutes for it to occur to her.How does he know what my grandmother looked like?
Elena popped to her feet, overwhelmed. Baxter Drury was in his late fifties, which made him a full ten years younger than her mother. Rosa Tompkins had passed away in 1960, before Baxter Drury was born.
What did it mean?
Elena’s heartbeat quickened. Unable to think without a keyboard under her fingers, she opened her laptop and typed up a list of potential answers to the current conundrum.
