Fixed in Fear by T. E. Woods Page B

“What did Helen’s father do for a living?”
    “Still does.” Larry’s smile disappeared. “Helen’s father is Abraham Smydon.”
    Chief Willers set her pen down. “The guy in the commercials. I’ll bet I see Smydon Fish trucks five times a week. Maybe more.”
    Larry nodded. “That’s him. The fish baron of the Pacific Northwest. Seventy-five years old and still running the business. Helen was his only child.”
    She jotted several lines onto her pad. Mort tried to see what she was writing but couldn’t from where he sat.
    “So Carlton was his brother. Was he in the fish business, too?”
    “Carlton was Abraham’s half brother,” Larry corrected. “Abraham’s mother died when Abraham was ten years old. Cancer as I recall. It’s my understanding that his father, Luther Smydon, remarried less than a year after her death. Carlton was born when Abraham was fifteen. Helen told me Luther’s two sons never had much of a relationship. It wasn’t for lack of effort on Carlton’s part. Maybe it was the difference in their ages, maybe Abraham had difficulty accepting his father’s new wife. For whatever reason there was a distance between the two. I know it was Carlton’s fondest wish to have a close relationship with his brother. But Abraham Smydon can be a difficult man to get close to.”
    “Was there bad blood between the two?” Rita Willers leaned forward. Mort knew she was hunting for a motive.
    Larry shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. I’d call it more a gulf of misunderstanding between them. Carlton was so much like my Helen. Abraham is a different breed entirely.”
    “How were Carlton and Helen alike?” Mort recognized the tactic. Divert the interview subject’s attention away from the crime at hand. Get them talking about something that would allow them to drop any defense they might have. Hope a thread will emerge. Something to tug on. Something that might allow an entire case to be revealed.
    “Carlton was only ten years older than Helen. Abraham was busy building his empire when she was young. He started with one boat he captained himself. Helen’s mother would take her down to the docks when Abraham brought in the day’s catch, but Helen told me she remembered her father as a bustling, loud figure who’d plant one kiss on her head, warn her to stay away from his smelly clothes, then dismiss the two of them so he could return to work. I suppose that was his way of showing his love. Building his business so his kids would want for nothing. Still, Helen describes missing him terribly as a child. Helen and her mother—Olivia was her name—would spend their days at Luther’s home. Helen adored her grandfather, and Carlton and she were raised more as siblings than uncle and niece. They each had a playful streak.”
    Larry leaned back in his chair, lost in memory. The majestic embodiment of a Nobel Prize winner disappeared. In that moment he was simply a man wrapped in a joyful remembrance of the woman he loved. “At least that’s how I’d describe it on my more generous days. Both Helen and Carlton have told me about antics and pranks they pulled on Luther and their mothers that, in another day, might have earned them the business end of a leather belt.”
    His eyes gleamed. “Helen was fearless. I was so drawn to that. She took me out of my small dusty world of books and thoughts and demanded I live in the moment. Carlton was just as adventurous. I remember the first thing he ever said to me. Back at the salmon bake. There I was, walking across Abraham’s vast lawn, on my way down to the lake. Dressed in my only suit. I must have looked ridiculous. I know I was nervous as hell.” He shared his attention between Mort and Chief Willers. “If you think a black man walking across a Laurelhurst lawn would be rare today, imagine what it was like twenty-seven years ago.” He chuckled. “This man comes running up. Of course, he’s dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. He grabs me by