Silent Keys: Chapter One

 This short novel is based on a murder-suicide pact that was set in motion by an elderly couple in my community years ago. He was the kind of man who needed to control everything, even the destiny of his wife. It didn't quite work out the way he had so carefully planned.

2023, Sue Cauhape All rights reserved.

A portion of the song, "Goodnight My Someone," from The Music Man, lyrics and music written by Meredith Wilson, 1962.

Chapter One

As Livi settled into the pillows Don had arranged on the sofa, he lifted her head a bit and tipped the mug to her lips.

"Here, Livi, drink this. It will help you sleep."

Shaking her head, she tightened her mouth against the cup.

"Now Livi, you remember? You and I agreed to do this months ago."

A sob convulsed from her chest as she resigned herself to his request. Slowly, she sipped until all the tea was gone. Don hoped it was strong enough to do the job. Then he watched as she closed her eyes for the last time.

He remembered the first time he saw those eyes, really paid attention to them. They were veiled under a drape of lustrous blonde hair that curled up into a French twist. The hairdo lifted her pillbox hat in a jaunty slant, giving those eyes an even more flirtatious allure.

Now, the lids fluttered halfway over her pupils as if she still wanted to keep a wary eye on what he was up to. It didn't make him feel any better about what they had planned to do when day-to-day life got to this point. Livi hadn't recognized him in over six months.

He wondered if their daughter, Carol, would accept the letter he mailed that afternoon. When he and Livi attended the Wednesday lunch with his ham radio buddies, he told them that he and Livi were moving to Idaho to be near Carol. When Callie, their waitress heard this announcement, she returned from the back of the cafe with a camera.

"Well, let's take a shot of you all for posterity."

Everyone grinned in that exaggerated way people do at such times, but Don could barely break his usually somber expression. And Livi's face remained placid, unaware of her surroundings or the occasion.

There was no way either of them could survive the drive to Idaho much less a major move to an assisted living facility. In the past fifteen years, there were too many unanswered letters to Carol. After she ran off with that hippie boyfriend of hers, all communication had stopped. So, driving all the way to Idaho to live with her was not an option. Instead, it became a ruse.

If she did read the letter he sent, Carol would know then that she would have carte blanche in settling the estate. Everything he had worked hard all his life to attain would belong to her and that worthless sonofabitch. Who knows? Maybe the guy had run out on her, just like she did with her parents. Maybe he even abandoned her with a batch of barefoot brats. That would serve her right.

He had written in the letter that he and Livi had made a pact while she was still cogent. As pissed off as he was at Carol, he didn't want to implicate her in case something went awry. There was no telling what would happen with her, though. Would she respect their wishes and handle the final details? Or would she simply ignore the whole event, leaving their bodies and their belongings to molder in a haunted house? So he left it in the hands of whatever god existed.

When Livi was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, their situation had flipped-flopped. She could no longer care for him and his increasing heart problems. He could no longer lift her or cope with her rages. It was amazing how such a tiny woman could wield such a fearsome right hook. Then again, it didn't take much to knock him off-balance. They both tottered on legs bowed by age and lack of exercise.

What irony it was that she could lambaste him like she did these days. She had shown so much patience with him throughout the years. So compliant to his every need and wish. She made him feel that he was truly the head of the house, although he knew in his heart, she was really the one who kept things right side up.

Now that neither of them could lead with any certainty, he knew he must do something drastic to take control over their bleak circumstances. Today was the day. The time had finally come. He sighed with the resigned desperation of a cornered animal, exhausted by the chase.

Livi was a woman who carried a huge faith that everything would come out all right.  In his engineer's mind, though, he couldn't allow any detail to be taken for granted. He supposed he just wasn't as tolerant as she was of the ebb and flow of life. He had married a saint. Of that he was certain from the moment he spotted her in that jaunty little pillbox hat.

During the last year in high school, he ignored the gawky girl whose locker was just three down from his. She had just moved into the school district, but he was focused on getting out of school and chasing his college goals. While his father's accounting firm awaited Don's bookkeeping skills, he had bigger plans. Engineering school, then massive wealth, maybe MIT or CalTech. With WWII behind them, aerospace was ramping up in Los Angeles. Electrical engineers would be like gold. There was a solar system to explore in his future. Who needed girls? What's more, he wanted to get out of Stockton!

Then one day, he saw her standing in front of the bank, all decked out as if she were applying for a job with the president himself. Man, he couldn't believe the transition. From Bobbie sox and oxfords to nylons, high heels, and a pillbox hat that turned her into a full-fledged adult woman, a word that made his body buzz with feelings he had never known existed. What was happening?

She spotted him checking her out just then and gave it back to him in spades. Lifting her chin, a haughty smile teased the corner of her mouth. Whatever that deep red lipstick was named, it couldn't do justice to how it stirred his teenaged heart. And those eyes. She pinned him with a sly look that said, you need to grow into your paws, boy. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, too. With a slow turn, she winked at him over her shoulder then strode into the bank.

Of all those pretty girls in high school, she was the only one who could hold his interest after that day. Come to think of it, she had ignored him much the same as he had ignored her. Whenever they saw each other at their lockers between classes, they'd catch sight of each other in a flash of a moment. Then she would dash away, distracted by the demands of her day.

Suddenly, he realized she wasn't as gawky as he thought.

Or maybe what irked him was that she didn't take him seriously. After all, he was one of those ham radio nerds who got more out of a little black box than a girl. So when he finally worked up the courage to ask her out, he kept his radio life separate.

It was possibly the hardest thing he had ever done. Radio was all he knew how to talk about, but he tried his best to broaden his range of conversation. It didn't go very far, though. She was as much a music nerd as he was into tech stuff. And the poetry! Who the hell was Lord Byron? Keats?  Wasn't wading through Romeo and Juliet bad enough?

He decided to make moves on her. What a joke!. She was very adept at controlling his Roman hands and Russian fingers, yet still made him feel like there were possibilities if he just had patience. It was clear he would have to prove himself worthy of her first, which stymied him. How could he regale her with his life story if there wasn't much of a plot? Furthermore, he didn't like not being the one in control of the situation. Men were supposed to lead, right?

After a few awkward dates, they parted company until graduation when he saw her striding across that stage to shake the principle's hand and accept her diploma. As soon as that brief interchange happened, she walked off the stage, out of town, and out of his life.

Taking Livi's mug back to the kitchen, he rinsed it out and hung it safely and innocently on the hook inside the cupboard, as if it had never been used for anything so nefarious. Dumping more sleeping pills into the teapot, he gulped half of it, now tepid and tasting like rotting leaves laced with toxic chemicals. Some of the pills hadn't dissolved completely. Swirling them around until they fully blended in the liquid, he forced the acrid brew down his throat, feeling the particulate matter clump in his esophagus. Pain grew sharper just under his sternum.

Oh hell, am I having an episode, or is it this damned tea? I can't die just yet.  I still need to do a couple of things.

He returned to the sofa, sitting on the edge to watch Livi's progress. Her breathing calmed. The intervals between inhalations increased until he wondered if the previous breath was her last. Holding his fingers against her cheek, he felt the warmth still residing in her flesh. How long does it take for a body to cool anyway? It would be a while before he could find the answer to that question because Livi breathed again, a jerking gasp that startled him. Was she fighting this?

He folded her arms across her waist. Despite the mid-summer heat, he placed the knitted throw over her and tucked it under her chin. These days, she always complained about how cold she was, wearing the same jogging suit until he had to wrestle it off of her body to be laundered.

As Livi's breathing regained its rhythm, the house settled into the quiet of the hour. Even the thrum of the highway a few blocks away waned as their suburban neighborhood settled in for the evening.

Don remembered a song Livi loved to sing to him on the doorstep before parting after a date.  It was one of the many, many songs from The Music Man that she dearly loved. He didn't particularly like the high school version of the play or even the movie itself, but hearing Livi sing that song broke through his tech nerd bias.

How did the words go? He squinted his eyes as if that would help him pull the memory from his brain. When the melody finally emerged, he whispered the words to his wife's pallid face.

Goodnight, my someone

Goodnight, my love

Sleep tight, my someone

Sleep tight, my love

Our star is shining its brightest light

For goodnight, my love, for goodnight

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Don walked past the school auditorium where rehearsals were going on for the The Music Man. A beautiful, blonde girl stood alone center stage singing that song, a beam of light illuminating her like a halo. The crystal clarity of her voice echoed against the walls, stopping Don in his tracks. Its gentle melody hit stirred an excitement for something besides resisters, cathodes, and circuit diagrams. It was then he knew she would soften the edges of his numerical world.

Then it dawned on him this was a girl in his biology class, the new girl whose locker was only a few down from his. They brushed by each other every day.

It surprised him to see her there, preparing to stand in front of hundreds of people. How could such a quiet, studious girl dare to take the lead role in a play? Yet there she was, filling the auditorium with an angel's voice and doing it without a dancing mob of cast members to back her up. From where he was watching, she seemed quite comfortable up there, not a shred of fear in her stance or face. That beam of light, that stage, was her world as surely as the insides of a radio transceiver was his.

This alone fed his interest, a mysterious land to explore, even if it was a girl.

He had heard some rumor, maybe it was the teachers talking about her, that she had transferred from somewhere where the high school only went to tenth grade. His school offered four years before graduation and she wanted to continue her education so she could get a college degree.

She sat in one of the lab desks at the front of the room and usually scooted out of there like she was on fire. Catching up to her through the crowd of students just as eager to leave would require elbowing techniques and running skills he didn't want to employ. He had to find some way to start the process of getting acquainted.

A few days after he had spotted her in the auditorium, something weird happened. The gods must have picked up his thoughts. Perhaps they were annoyed by the clamor of his schoolboy heart. He could almost imagine a group of bearded old men, lounging on fluffy clouds, saying, okay, okay, we'll do something about your love life. We'll never have any peace until we do.

The class was on the first floor and he sat near the windows at the back of the room. Mr. Thompson caught Don waving to his friends as they walked to the playing fields. The man closed the window with a sharp thud and ordered Don to the long marble-topped table where Livi sat. She appeared to be as shocked by his sudden installation there as he was by the embarrassing circumstances of it.

Then Mr. Thompson announced with what sounded to Don like devilish glee, "Your grade is the lowest in this class and I know you can do much better. So, here's the deal. You're going to sit here for the rest of the year and let Olivia tutor you in biology."

At that summons, her eyes hid behind that drape of blonde hair, looking very much like a cornered animal. Mr. Thompson wasn't finished yet.

"Let's see if you can get that A+ you're always whining to me about."

That couldn't be true! Don knew he was doing well in biology. And he didn't whine! Never! What was Mr. Thompson talking about? The man humiliated him on a daily basis in front of everyone. Now he was bringing Livi in on it. Don would never trust that s.o.b. again. He always figured him for a devious sort: maybe he soaked his hands in formaldehyde too often. His shelves were crammed with innocent creatures suspended in jars with no apparent purpose than to gross out his students. He was the proverbial mad scientist for sure.

Don never did like the "soft" sciences, meaning those that dealt with organic, squishy stuff. How could anyone do reliable research on things that changed so often and in so many ways? It was all he could do to keep up with the sunspot cycles that held so much sway over the HF bands. Give Don a breadboard, a bunch of components, and soldering iron and he would be in Paradise. Full control all the time. That's what he loved about technology. He could own the results of his work, but with biology, there was always some unpredictable element to throw off the results.

Despite his teacher's claim, though, Don never earned less than an A+ in any subject. His personal motto of perfection or nothing wouldn't permit failing the class.

Don slammed his books on the table. He deliberately acted like he was peeved, but inside he could feel the planets aligning in his favor for a change. The irascible teacher had done him the unlikely favor of sitting him next to the woman he planned to marry some day.

He squared his shoulders to confront Mr. Thompson. To his surprise, the crazy old man winked at him and turned back to the blackboard where he was trying to explain the mysteries of photosynthesis.

Now, Don was really confused. Did the man know how much he liked Livi? Or was this some weird teacher trick? Mr. Thompson was always teasing his students about flirting in class. "Do your sparkin' on your own time!" he would shout, throwing a piece of chalk at the offender. The whole class would collapse in laughter and Mr. Thompson's face would wrinkle up in that strange smile of his. Don could never understand that man's humor, if that was indeed what it was.

To the resumed droning of Mr. Thompson's voice, Don slid into the chair at the long, marble-topped table. He realigned his books in a neat stack that fit perfectly inside the 90-degree angle of the corner. Then he pivoted toward Livi, flashing her the biggest smile he could muster. To his dismay, she turned away from him as soon as their eyes met.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Olivia Constance Smith quickly proved she was the one who needed the tutor. She was a music and arts person, after all. Don always figured those people had a fuzzier mental process than the average mortal. Instead of feeling burdened by her inabilities, he would seize the opportunity to impress her with his wisdom and knowledge.

At first, they met in the library after school. For a half hour, they were able to concentrate on the lesson of the day. It was safe and a good way to prove he wasn't just some nerd thrusting his pimply face in her direction. It wasn't long enough, though. So, inviting her to his house for tutoring sessions suited his ultimate plans for cementing her in his life. His mother would be home to protect her virtue … and his. There was always a platter of freshly-baked cookies that he discovered Livi loved. His mother was the key to succeeding. There was no excuse for Livi to refuse that arrangement.

Twice a week, he spent lovely hours gazing at the graceful tilt of her head as she struggled with biological principles. He could listen to her hypnotic voice for hours. The question of why she couldn't grasp these things didn't even enter his brain. He wanted her to do well, to get that A+ too, but at this stage of the game, just sitting next to her pleased him more than he expected.

He couldn't wait to introduce her to radio and teach her all the mysteries of the ionosphere, ground waves, and the power of a good antenna. What would she do if he put the headphones on her so she could listen to the atmosphere? It sounded like ocean waves crashing on the shore. After bringing her up on the basics of biology, he would broaden her bandwidth in the technical sciences.

He soon learned just how disinterested she was in science and technology. Livi wanted to pursue a career in the theater. It had been her fondest desire. A couple of times during those tutoring sessions, she told him that she wanted to study music and theater in college, if she ever managed to win a scholarship, that is. Her most immediate post-high school goal was to study at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.

Everything hinged on that Merit Scholarship test score. Her parents, like his, lived on modest means. Stalwart working class people who strived to put food on the table, pay their mortgages, and maybe if the good Lord was willing, send their children to college. Livi had a voice that deserved to be heard outside of Stockton, California.

If she won a scholarship, it would pay for her first year at the Conservatory. She would be on her way to a brilliant career doing what she loved to do. But Don steered her away from her course, thinking he was giving her the most precious gift that could be achieved. Picking up that mic, she could talk to people all over the world. Rather than speaking from a stage for a scheduled performance to a finite number of people, she could talk any time she wanted … to anybody … anywhere. He knew beyond all doubt it would be more gratifying to her. It certainly was for him.

 My god, she would sound wonderful over the radio.