“Oh, I shouldn’t say wasted,” drawled John Addison. “We’ll get the oil money. And that’s not all. Look at this little trinket.”
There was a brief pause, followed by Mr. Coaten’s angry exclamation: “The Covington pearls! So you did steal them!”
“Careful of your words,” the other warned. “Your own record isn’t so pure.”
“I’ve never stooped to stealing from old women!”
“No? The only difference is that you tie your packages up with legal red tape so that no one can pin anything on you.”
“I use my head! Stealing the Covington pearls was a stupid thing to do. You could go to prison for it.”
“There’s no risk. The police didn’t find a single clue.”
The voices died away, indicating that the two men had moved some distance from the wishing well. Nevertheless, everyone in the ballroom had heard enough to realize that Mrs. Covington’s priceless pearls were in the possession of Mr. Coaten’s companion, John Addison.
“I understand it all now!” I exclaimed to no one in particular. “Mr. Coaten and his friend must have been standing outside the window of the cottage that night when Abigail told the Sanderson family about finding the pearls. They probably heard the conversation.”
“I want those two men arrested!” Mrs. Covington announced in a shrill voice, propelling her wheel chair toward the door. “Why doesn’t someone do something?”
Spurred to action, Judge Harlan instructed several men from the group to guard the estate exits. Accompanied by nearly every person who had attended the party, he strode into the yard to confront the two conspirators. Taken completely by surprise, Mr. Coaten and his friend did not immediately understand the meaning of the encircling delegation.
“Your little game is up,” I said, thoroughly savoring the moment. “We know now that your real reason for wanting to adopt Abigail and Ted was to gain control of valuable oil lands!”
“And you stole my pearl necklace!” accused Mrs. Covington. “I want it returned!” Thoroughly incensed, she wheeled her chair directly into John Addison, seizing him by the coat.
“Madam, I know nothing about your pearls,” the man blustered, shaking loose from her grasp. “We came to this party only because we were given free tickets.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Mr. Coaten said gruffly, starting away.
“It’s no use,” I said, blocking the path. “We know everything. I used a phonographic speaker with a microphone installed at the wishing well, and it carried your entire conversation into the ballroom for everyone to hear.”
In a sudden break for freedom, John Addison ran to the hedge and attempted to break through a thin spot in the shrubbery. One of the guards at a nearby exit seized the man and brought him back.
“Search his pockets!” Mrs. Covington cried.
Judge Harlan did as the widow demanded, but the missing pearls were not found on either of the men.
“There, you see,” Mr. Coaten declared triumphantly. “You have falsely accused my friend.”
I suspected that Mr. Addison had disposed of the jewel case somewhere near the hedge. Crossing to it, I groped about on the ground. After a brief search, my hand encountered the jewel case containing the stolen necklace. I returned with the box, displayed the pearls, and presented them to Mrs. Covington.
“Do you need additional evidence to hold these men?” I asked Judge Harlan.
“You have produced more than enough,” he replied. Turning to the two culprits, he said: “I place you both under arrest! Stand where you are until the police arrive, and remember, anything you say may be used against you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I wasn’t at all certain it would work,” I said to the Judge as the assembled crowd drifted back to the house. “I did hope that under the proper conditions, those two men would talk, and they did!”
“You are a very clever lady,” Judge Harlan said. “This will make a nice story for your father’s paper too.”
“Jane is a very clever lady,” said a voice at my elbow.
“Jack!” I said. “When did you get here?”
“About the time the police were loading those two miscreants into the back of their patrol car.”
“You missed most of the excitement, then.”
“On the contrary,” Jack said. “I’d like to think that the excitement for the evening is just starting. How would you like to linger a little by the old wishing well? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“And whose fault is that?” I said crisply. “I can’t be lollygagging around old wishing wells, Flo and I are the official hostesses of this party, something you’d know if you—”
“Oh, all right,” said Jack. “You serving any food or drink at this party? I’m famished.”
As I was overseeing the serving of the refreshments, Mrs. Covington pulled me aside to say: “Jane, you have brought me more happiness than I deserve—you and Abigail together. Now that I have the pearls again, I’ll be able to carry out a few of my plans.”
“Then you’ll remain in Greenville?”
“Yes, I shall, and I’ve been wondering—do you suppose Abigail and Ted would be willing to live with me? I’m getting old. While I’ll have money enough, I’ll need someone to look after me.”
“Why not talk to Abigail about it?”
“I think I shall,” Mrs. Covington nodded. “I’ll do it tonight.”
I was pleased a few minutes later when Abigail told me that Mrs. Covington had spoken to her.
“Will you agree to it?” I asked Abigail.
“Will I? I love Roseacres, and Ted and I will be together again. Mrs. Sanderson was kind to us, but she has her own family. Mrs. Covington needs someone to care for her.”
“I think the arrangement will be an ideal one. I meant to tell you, Judge Harlan has promised to look after your legal interests. With him working on the case, those oil rights are the same as yours right now.”
As the night wore on, additional guests arrived at Roseacres, crowding the spacious rooms.
“Now can we go for that stroll out to the old wishing well,” Jack said. “Surely the guests can see after themselves.”
“Oh, alright,” I said. “Let me get my coat.”
Jack seemed his usual jolly self as he helped me wrestle my coat over my hoopskirts, but all the way to the wishing well he was strangely silent.
“Something on your mind?” I asked.
Maybe Jack and I were over. Maybe that’s why he’d insisted on bringing me all the way out here to get away from the crowds. Maybe Jack was preparing to hand me the icy mitt, maybe—
“Jane?” Jack said when we reached the wishing well.
“Yes.”
“Jane?”
“What is it?”
Maybe he wasn’t going to stop at handing me the icy mitt, perhaps he was going to add insult to injury by telling me he’d fallen in love with another woman.
“Jane?”
“Yes.”
There was a full moon that night, so I could clearly see Jack’s expression. He looked absolutely terrified. Then he knelt down right there on the flagstones beside the wishing well. Evidently, whatever he had to confess was so terrible that he felt compelled to prostrate himself before he told me what he had done.
“Jane?”
“I can’t stand the suspense, Jack. Let’s just get this over with.”
A flicker of hurt and confusion crossed Jack’s face. He’d been in the act of reaching into his pocket, but he hastily withdrew his hand and started to get up off his knees. It was then that I realized what a ninny I was.
Jack was not working up his courage to hand me my walking papers, he was about to ask me to marry him.
“I didn’t mean it that way, Jack,” I said. “I really do want you to say what I think you’re about to say.”
“You do?”
“Fairly certain, but it might be best if you actually say the words.”
Ja
ck sank back down on his knee and withdrew a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a diamond ring which sparkled in the moonlight.
“Jane Carter,” Jack said. “Will you marry me?”
I tried to say yes, but I found I was crying.
“I thought you were about to tell me to take a long walk off a short pier,” I said when I finally found my voice.
“You did?” Jack looked genuinely shocked. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, I haven’t seen much of you these past few months, and then I found out the bowling team was probably fake, and that story about your elderly aunt just wasn’t very believable—”
“I’m so sorry, Jane,” Jack said. “I never meant to worry you, I just didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“What surprise?”
Jack held up the ring box once more. I took a closer look at the diamond. It was substantially bigger than a newspaper reporter would have any hope of bestowing on his intended.
“You were working extra jobs to buy this ring?”
“Well, I didn’t muck out any actual pigsties, but horse manure was involved at one point.”
“Oh, Jack!” I said and threw myself into his arms.
“Is that a ‘yes,’ then?” asked Jack, when I’d done kissing him.
“It is a ‘yes.’”
We took our time returning to the house, but when we did, I was shocked to be greeted by thunderous applause. At first, I thought I was being congratulated for my part in capturing the Texan grifters, but it soon became clear that this was not the case.
“Congratulations, you two!” said Shep as he shook Jack’s hand and kissed me on the cheek.
“I was simply dying to tell you,” said Florence, emerging from behind Shep to practically maul me in her exuberance. “Jack’s been working his fingers to the bone to buy you that lovely engagement ring and—”
“But how does everyone else know we’re engaged?” I asked.
“I may have overlooked disconnecting the microphone from the speaker,” Shep said. “I’m sorry.” But he didn’t look very sorry when he said it.
“So you both knew,” I said. “You both knew Jack was planning to propose, yet you allowed me to pine away with worry.”
“You make it sound like you were a mare going off her feed,” Flo protested. “I didn’t think you were that worried. Your appetite certainly didn’t seem to suffer.”
“Surely you had more faith than that in our good friend,” said Shep, slapping Jack forcefully between the shoulder blades.
“Never mind,” I said. “I’m too happy to be angry this evening.”
After that, we danced. Shortly before midnight, I was surprised to glimpse my father’s car drive up to the open door at the front of Roseacres. He left it parked at the doorstep and hurried inside. I had not expected him to attend the party. Jack and I waltzed our way over to him.
“What brings you here, Dad? You must have heard about Mr. Coaten and the pearl necklace.”
I also surmised that my father might have heard about my engagement to Jack, and I waited expectantly for him to congratulate us, but instead Dad said, “I heard about the necklace, but that’s not why I came.” For the first time, I noticed how tense my father looked. “There’s been a break in the dam above Cedarville, and the river is rising fast.”
“Roseacres isn’t in danger?”
“The water shouldn’t come this high, but the flats will be inundated within a few minutes. Everyone is being warned to get out fast. We’ve not been able to telephone Truman Kip. His workshop has no phone.”
“Can we drive down there?” Jack asked me. “You know the way.”
I shook my head. “You can’t get there by car from here, not without going miles around. The quickest way is on foot. Take the trail at the rear of Roseacres. I’ll come with you.”
I went for my coat and somehow managed to get it on over my voluminous costume with Flo’s assistance, then led my father and Jack to the hillside. Taking the flashlight out of Jack’s hand, I gathered up my ridiculous skirt in one hand and plunged down the steep incline. I was going to have some heavy explaining to do to the lady down at the costume shop.
“There’s a light burning in the window,” Jack said as we neared the stonecutter’s workshop. “Kip must still be up.”
When we reached the building, Dad thumped once on the door of the workshop and then pushed it open. Truman Kip was busy at his bench. Startled by the unexpected intrusion, he backed a few steps away from us.
“You can’t do nothin’ to me,” he mumbled. “All I did was what I was told to do.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dad cut him short. “We’re here to warn you. The dam at Cedarville has let go, and the river is rising fast.”
“The river—” the stonecutter faltered.
For a fleeting instant, the man’s eyes flitted toward the large canvas-covered stone which I’d observed on my previous visits to the stonecutters workshop. As Kip’s words came back to me, I suddenly knew why he had been so startled to see my father. Impulsively, I darted across the room and jerked the canvas from the stone it covered. Revealed for all to see was a large rounded rock, bearing a carving which had not been completed.
“Truman Kip, you’re the one who planted those fakes! You were hired by someone.”
“No, no,” the man denied, cringing away.
As Truman Kip hovered nervously in the background, I took a closer look at the stone, joined by Jack and my father. The stone had been treated with acid and chemicals to give it an appearance of great age. Several lines for carving remained incomplete, but it was clear that this stone was intended to be a third carving by the late Wild Bill Hickock to memorialize yet another man dead by his hand.
“Who hired you, Kip?” Dad demanded. “Tell the truth.”
“I ain’t tellin’ nothing.”
“Then you’ll go to jail. You’ve been a party to a fraud. I’m guessing it was the publicity agent of the Wild West Show who hired you. He probably gave you fifty dollars for the job.”
“Not that much,” protested the old stonecutter. “An’ you can’t send me to jail because all I did was fix the stones and put ’em where he told me.”
“I doubt you will go to jail if you testify to the truth,” Dad took a kindlier tone. “All you’ll have to do is tell what you know—”
“I ain’t going to tell nothing,” Kip said sullenly.
Moving so quickly that both Jack and my father were caught off guard, Truman Kip wheeled around and ran out the door.
“Get him!” Dad barked. “Unless he’ll testify against Bill McJavins, we may lose a big story.”
I waited anxiously at the workshop while my father and Jack pursued the fleeing man. Ten minutes later they stumbled back, completely winded, to report their failure. The stonecutter had hidden, concealed in darkness, somewhere among the bushes dotting the hillside, and they could not hope to find him.
“Without Kip’s story, we’ve no more evidence than we ever had,” Dad declared in disgust.
I tapped the big rock with the half-completed carving. “You have this stone, Dad. If you could photograph it in this unfinished state, wouldn’t it tell its own story?”
“We have no camera here, and the river is rising fast. How long would it take you to get to town and back, Jack?”
“I might make it in thirty minutes.”
“Before that time, this building will be under water.”
We looked out the open door of the workshop at the dark, angry flood which swept ever closer. Inch by inch it was eating away a boardwalk which led to a pier with a small boat tied to it.
“If only we could get this stone into that boat,” I said, “we could float it to Greenville.”
“Not a chance,” Dad said. “A stone this size would sink that boat. No scoop is worth drowning for.”
“We’re completely out of luck,” said Jack. “At the rate the water is rising, this who
le place will be awash in another fifteen minutes.”
“Dad,” I went on, refusing to be cowed, “if we could make a heavy raft, couldn’t the stone be floated? It might be towed behind the boat.”
“A raft? There’s nothing from which to make one.”
“Yes, there is!” I pointed to several barrels, upended in a dark corner of the shop.
“It’s an idea!” said Jack. “We have Kip’s tools! This story means a lot to you, Chief. Isn’t it worth a try?”
“Maybe it is,” Dad conceded, and then with sudden enthusiasm: “Let’s get to work. By moving fast, we may yet outwit Old Man River!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Working with feverish haste, we constructed a raft of eight empty barrels, wiring them together into one solid unit.
“Run outside and see that the boat is all right,” Dad told me. “We mustn’t let it float away.”
Outside, I discovered that already the river was flowing in a shallow, muddy stream over the pier. The swift current tugged at the underpinning, threatening to carry it away completely. I waded through the water, reached the boat and drew it close to the building where I tied it to the railing of the rickety porch.
By the time I had finished, Dad and Jack had lashed the last of the barrels together. We had our raft.
“How will you ever get the stone on it?” I asked. “It must weigh several hundred pounds.”
“Just watch,” said Jack.
During my absence, Jack and my father had constructed a small square platform of rough boards, equipped with four tiny rollers. After wrestling the stone onto it, they were able to trundle it outside to the raft with a minimum of exertion.
“Now dump her on easy,” Dad told Jack. “If she sinks, our story sinks with her.”
Together they rolled the heavy stone from the platform to the raft which immediately began to settle beneath the great weight. As we watched anxiously, the raft steadied and rode just beneath the surface of the water.
“She floats!” Jack said. “Now unless we have an upset or strike an object in the river, we should make it to the Adams Street pier.”
Jane Carter Historical Cozies: Omnibus Edition (Six Mystery Novels) Page 86