‘Shut your mouth, Sophie,’ Daphne said.
Did Will Sr murder Rachel? I glanced at Zeke. Our eyes met.
‘Is there anything else about my father, or anyone else for that matter, that I need to know?’ Zeke said.
‘If Helen saw someone put those emeralds in my room, she’ll come forward,’ Simon said. ‘I have every faith in that girl. She’s got backbone.’
‘Really, Simon,’ Daphne said. ‘Don’t you think you’re putting a little too much stock in a servant? Why in the world would she save you? God knows, I wouldn’t if I were in her shoes.’ With that, Daphne strode from the room, slamming the door behind her.
* * *
Without Helen to oversee things, I had forgotten to shut the curtains in our room. I turned on the fan, took off my stockings, and stripped down to my slip. Working in my undergarments, I managed to transcribe five pages of handwritten notes before Daphne interrupted.
‘Sarah,’ Daphne called out. ‘Detective Bateson wants to see you now. Can you open up, please?’
‘Just a minute.’ I threw my clothes on and opened the door to Daphne. She barged in without waiting for my invitation. ‘A Nick Newland called for you. He said you were a friend and he wanted to make sure you were okay. I told him that I may be from the country, but I knew a city reporter when I heard one, and that he was not to call here again. I hope that was okay?’
‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
‘They’re waiting for you downstairs.’
‘Daphne, if I wanted to walk into town and avoid the reporters, do I just take the same bridle trail we used earlier?’
‘Yes. Do you want me to go with you?’
‘No, that’s okay. I need to walk and be alone, if you don’t mind.’
‘I understand. They’re waiting for you in the study.’ She left me, shutting the door behind her.
I splashed cold water on my face and headed downstairs. Detective Bateson sat at Will Sr’s desk. A uniformed police officer sat in the corner behind him, a steno pad at the ready.
‘Mrs Caen, please take a seat.’ His voice was sweet as syrup. ‘I understand you found the bag of stolen items in the desk in Mr Caen’s room.’ He took a document out of the folder that rested on the top of the desk and read it, taking his sweet time. Two can play this game. I leaned back and crossed my legs, as though I hadn’t a care in the world.
‘Would you mind telling me what you were doing in Simon’s room? Do you normally go snooping through other people’s things? I know women are curious creatures, but really.’ The detective smiled at the policeman in the corner, as if to say, ‘Isn’t she ridiculous?’
‘I got lost,’ I said. ‘I needed to go up to my room, the door was open, so I went in. The curtain moved, and I thought someone was there, so I walked to the window. That’s when I noticed the canvas bag sticking out of the drawer.’
‘Detective, I’m worried about Helen Dicks. She’s missing. She may have seen whoever put the emeralds in Simon’s room. I’m afraid she’s in danger.’
Detective Bateson read his report, not bothering to acknowledge my words.
‘Are you going to look for her?’
He looked up at me, a condescending smile on his face.
‘Don’t you worry, Mrs Caen,’ he said. ‘We’ll take care of everything. I don’t think I have any other questions. You are free to go.’
‘You’re not the least bit interested in Helen, are you?’ I stood up.
‘Mrs Caen, I’m going to give you some advice. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have a lot of experience in matters such as this.’ He gave me that smile again. ‘Women just shouldn’t think too much. It disturbs the constitution. Now run along. If we need anything, we’ll let you know.’
I almost slammed the door but caught myself just in time. I would not let Detective Bateson see just how angry he made me.
* * *
I don’t know what propelled me to the nursery, but I found myself standing in the doorway watching Simon and Toby. Simon sat at the child-sized table that Toby used for arts and crafts, a pencil in his hand, as he rendered an expert sketch of a horse’s head.
‘It’s all about the ears,’ Simon said. ‘Once you master the placement of the ears, you’ve got it down pat.’
Toby stood next to his father, rapt, his eyes transfixed on his father’s hand as it flew across the paper. He reached out and placed his little hand on his father’s arm. Simon stopped drawing, set the pencil down, and wrapped his arms around the child, hugging him tight.
‘You’re a good boy, Toby,’ Simon said.
‘I know,’ Toby said. ‘That’s why you should buy me a pony.’
I laughed. When Toby saw me, he ran toward me, throwing his arms around my waist.
‘Aunt Sarah, come and see.’ He took me by the hand and led me to the table.
‘I need to talk to you.’ I looked at Simon and pointed toward the door that led to the hallway.
‘Toby, why don’t you try to color over my pencil markings? Just trace along the top of them.’
It didn’t take long for Toby to get lost in his coloring. Simon followed me out into the hallway. When we faced each other, I noticed that his face was gaunt and drawn, and that his pants hung off his frame.
‘What’s wrong?’ Simon asked.
‘Simon, do you realize if Helen saw whoever put the stolen goods and the emeralds in your room she could be in danger? She’s fled, and no one knows where she is.’
Simon stared at me, his mind processing my words.
‘I’m scared to death for her. How can I find her? She might be able to clear your name. In any event, she needs protection.’
‘Have you spoken to the police?’
I snorted. ‘Detective Bateson has no regard for anything I might say. Who would she turn to in times of trouble? Tell me, Simon.’
‘The man is a fool. Try the postmistress. She and Helen are thick as thieves. And don’t worry about Detective Bateson. I’ll deal with him.’ Simon ran his hand over his face. ‘I’m going to help you. We are going to find Helen and bring her here. I’ll see to her safety myself.’
Spoken like a lover, I thought.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
* * *
Back in my room, I changed into my most comfortable shoes and set out the back door for the bridle path – the safest way to avoid the reporters – for my second long walk of the day. It was getting on five o’clock. The shadows grew long. The trees along the path provided enough shade to make the trek in the heat bearable. Once I reached the town, I knew I would have to be careful. Nick Newland would be like a bulldog on my scent, tracking me without mercy. When I reached Main Street, I ducked into an alley and studied my surroundings. My diligence paid off, for Nick Newland and Arliss Winslow stood together before the stationer’s, their heads bent together, Nick listening while Arliss gave him an earful. I shook off my worry. There was nothing to be done about Arliss Winslow or Nick Newland. They walked toward the café. Once they had slipped inside, I crossed the street and hurried into the post office.
A woman with pale skin, jet black hair, and blood-red lips sat behind the counter. She sorted envelopes into various piles in front of her, humming while she worked.
‘May I help you?’
‘I’m not sure. I’m a friend of Helen Dicks,’ I said.
‘Aren’t you Zeke’s wife?’
‘Yes, I am,’ I said. ‘Do you have a moment? I would like to speak with you.’ Something in my tone must have convinced her of my genuine concern for Helen.
‘Why don’t you come through that door over there, and I’ll give you a nice glass of lemonade.’
‘That would be very nice,’ I said.
I followed the woman, who introduced herself as Mrs James, back into a small sitting room behind the post office. The corner had been converted to a kitchen area with an apartment-sized stove and refrigerator. A small table with two chairs sat under a window, overlooking Main
Street.
‘That corridor leads to my sitting area and the two bedrooms,’ she said. ‘The job includes a free place to live. After Mort died – that’s my husband, god rest his soul – I needed a place. He left debts, and after they were paid, I didn’t have much.’ She smiled at me. ‘But you didn’t come to hear that, did you?’
‘I think you know why I’ve come, Mrs James,’ I said.
She busied herself in the tiny kitchen, and soon she set a tray down on the table, which held a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of homemade gingersnaps.
‘Call me Maud. All my friends do.’ She poured out lemonade and placed the cookies on the cut glass plates. ‘Is it true that poor Ken was murdered by the same person who murdered Rachel all those years ago?’
‘It’s a possibility,’ I said. ‘I don’t know much. Detective Bateson is handling the murder investigation and isn’t forthcoming with details.’
‘The cat burglar was the biggest news around. It’s all people have been talking about for the past eight months or so. Now this. There are newspaper reporters everywhere. One of them came in here, my dear, and wanted me to tell them where you were staying.’ She must have sensed my tension. ‘Don’t you worry, I didn’t tell him.’
We ate in silence. I knew better than to rush Maud James with questions. I simply waited, knowing instinctively that she would speak when she was ready.
‘I’m so glad you’re here, Miss Sarah. The whole town is glad that Zeke has come home. And Miss Daphne must love having you around. She and Rachel were so close. She was devastated when Miss Rachel died. She needed another woman her own age. Miss Daphne, she’s a beauty and holds herself real proper. And that sister of hers is a real firecracker, if you get my meaning. Anyone with a brain can see she and Joe Connor are meant for each other. Someone needs to get that child away from Arliss Winslow. And you must forgive me. I get a bit lonely since the husband died. Seem to have too much time on my hands. Thought about getting a cat – never mind, tell me, dear, what can I do for you?’
‘I want to locate Helen,’ I said.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I gave my word.’
I set my glass down and pushed the plate of cookies away.
‘Mrs James, I am going to trust you to keep what I’m about to say to you a secret. I believe Helen is in serious danger. I think she ran away because she saw something. I need to talk to her. I want to offer her money, so she can leave if she wants to. My husband can help her. Please. Tell me where she is. The police are looking for her, too. If they find her before I do, they will force her to come back.’
‘Oh dear.’ Mrs James had tied a gingham apron around her waist when she stepped into the kitchen. She clenched a piece of it in her hand now and twisted it. ‘Oh dear.’ She looked at me with worried eyes. ‘I did give my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone where she had gone.’
‘I know you did, and if Helen wasn’t in danger, I would respect that,’ I said. ‘But I think she has information about Rachel Caen’s murder and Mr Connor’s murder. She needs protection. I know you don’t know me well, but I’m asking you to trust me.’
Worry etched Mrs James’ face.
‘I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to,’ I repeated myself, in an effort to convince Mrs James to break her vow of silence.
With a sigh the woman spoke. ‘She’s at her sister’s in Chesterton. I’ll give you the address, but you must promise that you’ll protect her. I trust Zeke. If anyone can keep her safe, he can.’
Fifteen minutes later, I walked out of the post office with Helen Dicks’s location in my pocketbook. My mind was busy calculating how I could escape Zeke’s meddling family long enough to look for Helen, when I stepped onto the sidewalk and collided with Nick Newland.
Chapter 12
My purse went sprawling. Its contents spilled onto the sidewalk. I bent to pick up the lipstick, compact, hairpins, handkerchief, and pencils that were scattered about. Maybe if I ignored Nick, he would go away. No such luck. I stuffed everything into my pocketbook and stood up.
‘You dropped this.’ He handed me the sterling compact. I reached for it, but Nick held it just out of reach. ‘Not quite. You’re going to tell me about the emeralds.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Don’t play coy with me, Sarah. I know that the emeralds, allegedly lost when Rachel Caen died, are starting to surface. I want to know why. I want to know if they are connected with her death, and I want to know if she was murdered.’
‘So you’re going to hold my compact hostage until I answer your questions?’
‘Of course not.’ He handed me the compact, which I snatched out of his hand and stuffed safely in my purse.
‘Good day, Mr Newland.’ I couldn’t get away fast enough.
He moved so he blocked my way on the sidewalk.
‘Not so fast. I think we should go have a cup of coffee or maybe a sandwich. You see, Sarah, I suggest you tell me what you know. Don’t worry. I’ll protect your identity. I’m quite fastidious about protecting my sources, but you will talk to me because if you don’t, I’ll write a story about you, about your past, about your time in the asylum, and how you accused your adoptive father of murder.’
‘Mr Newland, I won’t be bullied into doing something against my will. I don’t care what you write,’ I said.
‘No problem,’ Nick said. ‘It’s nice to see you.’
I watched him hurry away, puzzled at his sudden change in attitude.
‘I think I may have scared him,’ a voice said behind me. Wade Connor stood on the sidewalk, a sheepish smile on his face. ‘Mr Newland doesn’t much care for me.’
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked before I realized that Wade had come home to attend his father’s funeral. ‘I’m sorry about your father, Wade. I only met him once, but he seemed a decent man.’
‘I didn’t mean to surprise you.’ Wade stood in the blazing heat dressed in a navy wool suit, complete with a white button-up shirt and tie. He didn’t even break a sweat. ‘I’ve come to fetch you. I went to the house, and they said you had gone walking. Zeke’s going to meet us there.’
‘What’s going on? Why have you come to get me? Is Zeke okay?’
‘He’s fine. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to wait and speak to you and Zeke together, so I don’t have to repeat myself.’ He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. ‘You seem to have settled in quite well. I’m impressed that Mrs James took you into her private apartment. She doesn’t do that for everyone.’
‘You’ve been following me?’
‘I simply walked behind you. You didn’t notice me, so I decided to see where you went.’ He led me to his car, and once we were situated, sped off at breakneck speed. Wade didn’t speak during the ride home. His eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror, and he clutched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. I couldn’t shake the sensation that something was very wrong.
* * *
The house looked forlorn and empty. The only sign of life was the bumblebees, who floated lazily among the flowers in the garden. Wade came around and opened my door for me. When I got out of the car, he placed a protective hand on the small of my back as he surveyed the surroundings.
‘Let’s get you inside,’ he said. We hurried up the front steps and headed toward the study. We found Zeke sitting with his bad leg propped up on an ottoman, an empty glass in his hand, his head tipped back, and his eyes closed in repose. Wade and I stood for a moment, watching Zeke as he sat still, oblivious of our presence.
‘Zeke,’ Wade said.
My husband woke up, startled. When he saw Wade, he stood up. The two men shook hands.
‘Sorry about your pop,’ Zeke said.
‘I know. Me too,’ Wade said.
‘Want a refill?’ I ignored Wade and nodded at the glass in Zeke’s hand.
‘Yes,’ Zeke said.
I took the empty glass and headed over to the sideboard that held the spirits. Someone had put fresh ic
e in the bucket.
‘Better pour one for all of us,’ Wade said. I poured a healthy dose of scotch over ice into two of the glasses, and opted for a plain soda water for myself. Once we were settled, drinks in hand, Wade, who now sat on the sofa opposite Zeke, spoke.
‘Another emerald has turned up, in Seattle this time. They’re trying to trace it. We must acknowledge that whoever murdered my father in all likelihood murdered Rachel,’ Wade said. ‘And, as you both know, Simon is the most likely candidate, at least according to Detective Bateson. We all know that Simon isn’t capable of murdering a fly. I cannot believe that fool, Bateson, has risen to the rank of detective.’
‘What about tracing the most recent emerald? Someone had to sell it. Can’t you find out who that person is?’ Zeke asked.
‘I can only hope that Detective Bateson is taking advantage of the FBI’s offer to help. Since my father is the victim, I can’t—’
The front door opened and shut. Familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway. Wade jumped up, pulled the gun out of the holster in his jacket, and crept over to the door.
‘It’s just Daphne,’ I said. ‘What’s going on? You’re wound up so tight, you’re giving me a headache. You’re keeping something from us. What is it?’
Wade tucked the gun out of sight and sat back down.
‘Wade?’ Zeke’s voice had an edge to it.
‘There was a fire,’ Wade said. He stood up and walked to the window. He stood with his back to us, fidgeting with the change in his pants pocket.
‘Where?’ Zeke’s voice cut.
‘Sausalito. Your home. I’m afraid it’s gone. I’m sorry. I really am.’
‘What the devil do you mean?’ Zeke snapped. ‘You were to keep an eye on things. You assured me that you would keep my home safe. Are you saying that one of Hendrik Shrader’s henchmen got past your men and burned my house down? What in god’s name do you have to say for yourself? How in the hell did you let this happen? I cannot even believe this.’ Zeke was shouting now.
‘Our house?’ My voice came in a whisper. The tears welled in my eyes and dripped down my cheek. I didn’t bother to stop them. ‘Was anyone hurt?’
The Drowned Woman Page 11