‘Welcome, Mrs Caen,’ she said.
‘Please, call me Sarah.’
We were in a long entry hall. No rug graced the hardwood floor. The whitewashed walls made the room seem cool. Off to the right, a sweeping staircase led the way to the second storey. A cool breeze tickled my bare skin, as though a fan were blowing on us.
‘Sarah, meet Mrs Griswold. She takes care of us,’ Daphne said.
‘And you look like you’re about to have a heat stroke,’ Mrs Griswold said. ‘If you want to take her up, Daphne, I’ll bring lemonade.’
‘Is there a fan somewhere?’ I asked Daphne, after Mrs Griswold had left us.
‘No, but it feels like it. It’s the design of the house.’ We headed up the stairs, taking our time. Daphne kept her eye on me, as if she was afraid I’d keel over. ‘We have a cupola on the third floor. If we open the windows up there, and open the front and back door, the heat in the house gets sucked up the stairs. That, plus all the big oaks around the house, gives us shade. Simon has begged his father to install an air-conditioning system, but Will Sr won’t hear of it.’
The top of the stairs opened into a sitting area. A picture window overlooked the vast acreage surrounding the house, with a good view of the stables. Four chairs circled a low coffee table, with a sofa positioned under the window. Books and magazines, along with a few picture books and reading primers, were scattered about the room. In the corner, a toy train set waited for Toby.
‘What a charming room,’ I said.
‘Thanks,’ Daphne said.
‘Did you do the decorating?’
‘Yes,’ Daphne said. ‘I must confess I read lots of design books and magazines. If I were a career woman, I would be an interior decorator. I like studying people and creating their surroundings. Your room is this way.’ The hallway had windows along one wall with a narrow staircase in the middle of the landing. ‘That staircase leads to the cupola I was telling you about. The view from up there is stunning, but it is as hot as an oven.’
We stopped before a large door, with a heavy brass handle and a skeleton key – also of brass – in the lock. Daphne unlocked the door, handed the key to me, and led me into a spacious sitting room decorated in earth tones. A well-worn rug covered the wood floors, and the French doors, which stood open now, allowed the summer breeze to flow through the room. More French doors opened into the bedroom, which held a four-poster bed set high off the ground. This room also had access to the covered porch.
‘I recommend closing the doors and curtains that lead to the porch by ten o’clock in the morning. We’ve left them open today to air the room. You don’t realize how precious this cool air is until afternoon, when the heat can be a bit stifling.’ She shut the doors and closed the curtains. ‘This was Zeke’s room,’ Daphne said. ‘I’ve changed it up a bit, painted it, new furniture, curtains and the like.’ A small fireplace with a white marble hearth was set in the middle of the wall. On one side, a work table held my typewriter and office supplies, all unpacked and ready for me to use.
Daphne spoke, but her words faded into the background. Above the fireplace hung a portrait of Rachel Caen. She wore the same dress she had on when she appeared before me just a few hours before at our flat in Sausalito. The emeralds sparkled around her neck as though they had a life of their own. Her hair flowed over her shoulders in honey-colored waves. Her expression suggested hidden mirth, as though she thought the whole idea of the portrait a joke. I could not take my eyes away.
‘That’s my sister-in-law, Rachel. She’s gone now, but she was very dear to me. The artist captured her expression so well, it’s almost as if Rachel … Forgive me. I’m getting maudlin.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and turned her attention to the small round table with two chairs nestled in the corner, topped with a tablecloth and empty cups and saucers.
‘I thought you and Zeke might want coffee in here in the morning.’ Daphne wouldn’t meet my eyes. She twisted her hair into a bun and surveyed the room. ‘Is the room okay? I want you to be comfortable.’
‘Everything is perfect,’ I said. ‘Thanks so much.’
‘I’m so envious that you are able to actually have a meaningful job,’ Daphne said. ‘I would love to work, but Mother forbade me to even think of it as a child. Simon wouldn’t care if I got a job, but Will Sr would not approve.’
‘Well, I was forced into it,’ I said. ‘I had to earn my living.’
‘I know. I read about you in the papers, starting with Jack Bennett, and then that woman who wanted to kill her husband. Are you a detective, too?’
‘Some people say a proper lady’s name should appear in the newspaper three times: upon her birth, her marriage and her death.’ I met Daphne’s gaze head on. ‘I have given up any notion of being a proper lady.’
‘I like to think you’ve paved the way, made it a little easier for those who are coming behind you. But enough of that. I want to hear about your job. Surely you don’t need to earn your living now?’
‘I like to work,’ I said.
‘Ah, an independent streak.’ The smile had come back into Daphne’s eyes. ‘I’m glad you’ve come. I hope we shall be great friends.’
‘Do you dress for dinner?’ I opened the wardrobe. Daphne and I surveyed my meager collection of clothes, which now hung on cedar hangers.
‘These are lovely.’ She ran her fingers over the fabric of my emerald dress and the black Lanvin gown. ‘They’ll be perfect for dinner, but if you need anything else, I’ve got things you can borrow.’
I longed for Daphne to say goodbye and leave me alone, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she moved around the room, fluffing pillows, fiddling with the lamps, straightening a picture that didn’t need it.
‘Sarah, are you and Zeke planning on staying here? Simon thinks Zeke is going to take over the business. He’s not very happy that Zeke’s come back.’
‘Oh, no. We have a business and a home in Sausalito. We just needed to get away. It’s a long story, and I think Zeke should be the one to tell you why we came.’
‘That’s a relief. My husband has the ridiculous idea that Zeke intends on taking over the business and ousting him in the process. Simon’s been a bit of a drifter, but he’s trying so hard to do the right thing, at least for Toby’s sake, if not for mine. I tried to explain that Zeke isn’t like that, wouldn’t do that. Simon is stubborn, and he’s also a bit jealous of Zeke.’
There was a soft rapping at the door.
‘Come in,’ I said.
A young girl came in carrying a tray.
‘Ah, Helen. Lemonade. Good. Sarah, meet Helen Dickenson.’ We said our hellos.
‘Helen is going to make sure you and Zeke have everything you need. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. See you later,’ Daphne said.
‘Thanks,’ I called after her.
Helen Dickenson was a sturdy girl, with brown eyes and a quiet way about her that I liked right away.
‘I’ve taken a few of your things to be ironed. And I’m quite handy with the comb, miss. I can come back before dinner and fix you up real nice, if you’d like.’
‘Thank you, Helen.’
‘My room is just next door. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be, or downstairs in the kitchen. We’re all glad that Mr Zeke has come home, miss. I hope you’ll be happy here.’ With that, she walked down the corridor toward the staircase.
‘Oh, but we won’t be staying that …’ My words trailed off. Helen had disappeared.
* * *
I lay down on the sofa in the sitting area and soon fell asleep, Rachel Caen’s portrait the last thing I saw before my eyes shut. Daphne was right. The afternoon heat was relentless. I woke up groggy, damp with sweat, and parched. The sun had started to set, leaving the room bathed in a soft light that pierced the heavy curtains. The iced lemonade that Helen had brought up earlier had melted. I poured a glass of the watered-down stuff and chugged it, then poured another and sipped. A fan sat in the corner of the room. I propped it
up on the desk, turned it on, and headed into the bathroom.
I took a cold bath and had just buttoned my blouse when Zeke came into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. ‘Just me,’ Zeke said. ‘I’ve had a—’
Someone banged on the bedroom door.
Was there no privacy to be had in this house? I smoothed my hair and hurried out to meet whoever had come to speak to Zeke.
‘Simon, what do you want? If it’s about what happened at the mill, now isn’t the time.’ Zeke’s tone was so sharp, I stopped in my tracks.
‘No, we are talking about this now,’ the other voice said.
I stayed hidden in the bathroom, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, not quite sure if I should make my presence known.
‘You seem to think that you can come home, the prodigal son, and waltz into a position of authority at the mill,’ Simon said. ‘How dare you? You’ve always been arrogant, but don’t you think this is pushing it just a little bit? I’ve actually done a good job, made a difference to the workers’ lives, and have increased the profit margins. Not that Father would notice. He hasn’t said a kind word to me in years.’
‘Simon, we aren’t going to stay here. We have a life in Sausalito, a home, a business.’
‘Why should I believe you?’ Simon asked.
This had gone far enough. I knocked on the door between the bathroom and bedroom, and opened it, like a lamb going to slaughter.
Zeke leaned on his cane. His eyes flashed with fury as he faced off with his brother. Simon Caen, for his part, seemed just as angry. He shared Zeke’s flashing eyes, although his were blue. Both men were tall and lean, but the resemblance ended there. Where Zeke’s jaw was determined, Simon’s was soft. Where Zeke’s eyes held your gaze, never breaking contact, Simon’s flitted around. He had the countenance of a spoiled boy, and I judged him to be weak within seconds of laying eyes on him.
‘You must be Simon,’ I said, forcing a smile.
‘So this is the psychic wife,’ Simon said. He surveyed me, not bothering to hide his distaste.
‘You will address my wife with respect,’ Zeke growled.
‘Simon, I overheard what you said. We’re not staying here. Believe me.’
Simon smirked. ‘You’re up to something, both of you. I would like to know what it is. Why in the hell are you two here?’
Zeke hobbled over to the table and poured himself a glass of watered-down lemonade. He drank it in one gulp.
‘I’ve come to clean up your mess, Simon.’
‘I don’t have a mess, brother, and if I did, I wouldn’t want your help.’
‘Are you aware of Millport’s resident thief? Ah, I didn’t think so. Are you aware that one of Rachel’s emeralds has surfaced?’
Simon’s face paled.
‘They’ve been reworking the autopsy and other evidence. What do you say about that?’ Simon’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth and shut it again, without uttering a word. ‘And it seems that you’ve somehow come up with the money to pay off your gambling debts,’ Zeke said. ‘So how did you get the money?’
‘Are you saying that Joe Connor thinks I had something to do with Rachel’s … My god, I cannot even fathom this,’ Simon said. He started pacing the floor beneath Rachel’s picture. The irony of this was not lost on me.
‘Where did you get the money?’ Zeke asked again.
‘None of your business,’ Simon snapped. ‘I’ll discuss it with Joe Connor. That’s all you need to know.’ He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I stood behind Zeke and started to knead the muscles in his shoulders.
‘It never will change,’ Zeke said. ‘Simon doesn’t want me here, my father doesn’t want me here, and – here’s the irony – I don’t want to be here.’
I longed for the foggy days, our small, yet comfortable flat, and the day-to-day things that we dealt with at home – finding scrap metal for Jimmy Blithe to take to the corner; Mrs Fields and her cats that were always escaping; the clients who would wander into the office seeking help for small matters, such as lost jewelry or suspicions about wives who had spending problems. They all appealed to me now. I even missed the neverending noise from the shipyards that were turning out Goliath-like ships at a frightening pace. Now that I had a chance to miss the home we had created together, I realized that our life in Sausalito was very fine indeed.
Zeke stood up, kissed me, and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind my ears, a familiar gesture of endearment that never failed to warm my heart. ‘Promise me that you won’t let my father upset you. He’s an ogre. Prepare yourself for the worst.’
‘Surely you know by now that I’m case hardened,’ I said.
‘Excuse me, miss?’ Helen rapped on the door before she opened it. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that I thought you might like me to dress your hair.’
‘I’ll be back shortly,’ Zeke said. He nodded at Helen and left us.
‘He’s very romantic,’ Helen said.
‘He is. Now show me what you have in mind.’ I took the seat at the vanity.
‘Close your eyes,’ she said. I did as she requested. She took my silver brush and ran it through my hair in sweeping strokes that lulled me. She parted my hair and started curling and pinning, weaving my hair into loops and curls with the expertise of a professional.
‘Okay, I’m finished.’
She handed me a small mirror. I surveyed my hair from the back. Helen had woven my hair into an updo, similar to the style worn by movie stars.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I said.
‘You look lovely.’ She beamed at me, her cheeks aglow.
‘You should be a professional, Helen,’ I said.
‘No, ma’am. I’m going to be a teacher. But you have such thick hair, it is easy to do up like that.’
I tested it, just to make sure that nothing would fall down during the course of the evening. ‘Don’t you worry about that, miss,’ Helen said. ‘It’s pinned fast, of that I can assure you.’ I dismissed Helen, as she was needed in the kitchen. The sun started to set, so I opened the French doors and ventured onto the veranda, where I had a clear view of the sloping back lawn, followed by miles of the golden grass indigenous to California. In the distance, the stable gleamed white as the horses grazed in the diminishing sunlight. It was still warm out, and the grass smelled sweet. At home in Sausalito the fog would be rolling in. Zeke came out of the bath, damp tendrils of hair curling around his face, and found me sitting at the vanity fidgeting with my pearl necklace.
‘You’ll break that string of pearls if you keep on like that.’ He stood behind me. Our eyes met in the mirror. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from my father. If you can survive this, you can survive anything.’
‘Surely he can’t be that bad,’ I said.
‘We shall defend ourselves, whatever the cost may be.’
And so we headed down to dinner to face Zeke’s father, while Zeke quoted Winston Churchill.
Chapter 3
My husband’s tension level increased with each step, so by the time we reached the sitting room where everyone had gathered, he was coiled like a panther, ready to spring. The energy flowed off the arm that I held and coursed through me, as we followed the sound of clinking glass and the low murmur of voices. We entered a large room with whitewashed walls, which gave the spacious room a gleaming brightness, accentuated by the large picture window. Through it, the sun set in purple and red streaks. Daphne held a champagne flute while Simon filled it. She gazed at Toby, who was busy with a vast collection of toy soldiers.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Daphne said, smiling as she walked over to me. ‘Pour Sarah champagne, Simon.’ She put her arm around me, as though she wanted to tell me a secret. Zeke went over to Simon and busied himself with his own drink.
‘I see Helen has done your hair.’
‘She also mended my clothes. She is very talented,’ I said.
‘Helen is a marvel,’ Simon said. He handed
me a flute full of bubbly liquid, took a sterling silver cigarette case from his pocket, and made a fuss over lighting up. I wanted to step away – I hated cigarette smoke – but was afraid of being rude. He offered the case to me. I shook my head.
‘No, thank you,’ I said. ‘What an interesting lighter.’
‘Thanks. Gift from my father.’ He handed me the sterling lighter, overlaid with white enamel. On the front a tiny fish under the sea had been painted in remarkable detail. ‘It’s my lucky charm.’
‘Then I’d best give it back to you.’ I handed the lighter to him. He tucked it into his pocket, gave me a tight smile, and wandered to the window, where he stood smoking with his back to the room.
‘This room is lovely,’ I said.
Daphne spoke about her interest in design and her efforts to use light to enhance space. I listened, nodding when I should, or saying, ‘Really?’ and, ‘You don’t say,’ when a response was required. We carried on this way until an old woman hobbled into the room.
‘Granna, look at me! I’m big!’ Toby jumped up and flew toward the woman. ‘Mamma said we can eat lots of ice cream and cake.’
Granna wore a floor-length skirt twenty-five years out of style, topped with a silk blouse with an elaborate lace collar, held by a cameo at her throat. Toby skipped around her skirts for a moment before he ran back to Zeke, his eyes riveted on Zeke’s black cane with the silver lion’s head.
‘Do you have a sword in there? Some crime fighters have swords in their canes—’
‘Not so loud, Toby,’ Daphne said. She stood up and went to her son. Soon Daphne, Zeke, and Simon were listening to Toby’s tales of heroes with canes.
‘That’s my fault.’ The old woman stood next to me now. ‘I’m afraid I let him listen to anything on the radio that he wants, and, well, boys will be boys. Let’s sit, shall we?’
We took the two chairs tucked into the far corner, just out of earshot.
Granna said, ‘My son – Zeke’s father – is a bully and a fool, and I just want to warn you not to expect too much from him. We are glad to have you here, my dear. It is time that Zeke came home. I’m sure that you’ll want to stay on permanently after you’ve had a chance to get the lay of the land, so to speak.’
The Drowned Woman Page 3