The Shadow Box(64)
EIGHT DAYS LATER
35
CLAIRE
I woke at dawn, a week and a day after the attack, clear light coming through the window of my cabin. Filtered by the trees, it bathed the pine walls, turned them golden rose, made me feel calm. Nature always did that for me—no matter how tough or confusing life could be, sunrise and the smell of salt air lifted my spirits. I had brought a lot to read from my studio, and I had a busy day ahead of me, but for just then, I lay still, trying to remember a dream.
No, not a dream, a memory, and the quality of light had brought it on: our honeymoon in Italy. We stayed in an ancient villa in Gaiole in Chianti, overlooking the valley to Montegrossi Castle at the top of the hill. Our villa was a thousand years old, with a tower built in 1021 of foot-thick stone, and being there made me feel we could last forever too.
Every morning we’d wake up to rose-gold sunlight slanting through narrow windows. I can feel Griffin’s arms around me now. We lay on rumpled white sheets, holding each other, feeling the bliss of finally being married. We packed our days full of hikes, the occasional visit to medieval churches and small museums, but mostly we ate and drank wine and returned to our bed in the tower.
The villa was surrounded by vineyards and olive orchards, and one moonlit night we walked downhill to Badia a Coltibuono, an eleventh-century monastery turned hotel and restaurant that produced its own wine and olive oil. The road was dusty and the olive leaves silver green in the moonlight. We held hands the whole way, ate a Tuscan feast of lemon risotto and dolceforte wild boar in the refurbished stables, and ordered a case of their extraordinary Chianti Classico Riserva to be shipped back to Catamount Bluff.
But in the mornings, we would lie together in the early light, hearing sounds of the countryside, with nothing on our minds but each other, and that was what I remembered most. That was what I thought our marriage would be.
When I finally felt able to get up and move around the cabin, I wolfed down food I had brought from my studio and got to work. I had a makeshift desk of two apple crates my dad and I had used to transport food and books from home, and I spread out journals, clippings, and documents I had brought from my studio.
I had saved years’ worth of newspaper articles about Griffin’s cases and about a month’s worth of pieces and editorial letters regarding his campaign for governor. He would be running as an independent, but he was supported by Republicans and Democrats alike. People cited his caring, the compassion he showed to victims and their families, his desire for true justice—not the trumped-up kind designed merely to win convictions.
“State’s Attorney Chase is the people’s lawyer,” wrote Virgil Richards in the Connecticut Journal. “He champions the truth rather than prosecuting for headlines. He wants justice for the victims, not personal glory.”
A cover story in the Sunday magazine section was titled “The Prince of Caring,” with a photo of Griffin standing in front of the imposing granite courthouse, feet spread, arms folded across his chest, jaw jutting out, as if he were guarding the court, marking it as his domain. I looked at that photo and saw arrogance, but I know it was widely thought to portray him as the guardian of righteousness, a protector of victims, determined to bring punishment to the bad guys.
Buried amid the press full of glowing accolades was one editorial by Sean Murphy in the Easterly Times, published April 12:
Follow the Money That Leads to Chase
State’s Attorney Griffin Chase is enjoying a meteoric rise in the world of Connecticut politics. After nearly two decades of prosecuting cases in Easterly County, his decision to run for governor is not surprising. Talk to anyone around the courthouse and you hear praise and accolades. His charm is legendary; even members of the defense bar speak highly of him.
So why am I hearing whisperings around town about Chase’s backers? Chase refuses to accept corporate-PAC money. He can fund his own campaign with his family wealth and that of his friends. He was raised in the exclusive gated shoreline compound of Catamount Bluff. In fact, he still lives there among equally wealthy neighbors Wade Lockwood, Neil Coffin, and Edward Hawke. All are outspoken supporters of Chase.
Wade Lockwood’s holdings include approximately 30 percent of the Easterly waterfront. Last year he donated the section known as Lockwood’s Harborfront to the city, for use as a public park. He and his wife, Leonora, have funded gardens, a playground, a boathouse, and the planting of one hundred trees.
While sections of Lockwood’s waterfront property have been improved, several abandoned warehouses and an unused pier remain. Lockwood’s Maritime Gateway project, a mixed-use proposal of condos and a marina, has been perpetually stalled by state environmental and land-use regulations.
Edward Hawke is an attorney with law offices in Lockwood’s renovated warehouse complex. In 2018, Hawke successfully defended Maxwell Coffin of the Coffin Group, a family-held company with extensive holdings in the western United States, following an oil spill in Alaska’s William Twigg Bay. Maxwell Coffin and his brother, Neil, as well as Edward Hawke, are investors in Maritime Gateway.
An anonymous source informs me that Griffin Chase, Wade Lockwood, Edward Hawke, Maxwell Coffin, and Neil Coffin are members of the Last Monday Club. The all-male club is exclusive; the membership list is secret.
Lockwood, Hawke, and both Coffins have each made substantial donations to the Chase for Governor campaign. Each has something to gain from a friend being elected to the state’s highest office. The multimillion-dollar Maritime Gateway project may be at stake. Additionally, the Coffin Group has begun lobbying to resurrect a long-rejected proposal for a natural gas pipeline beneath Long Island Sound. A friendly governor could benefit those plans.