Dig Deep My Grave

by Cheryl Honigford

  “I’m just glad Lillian went back to Chicago when she did,” he continued. “She was distraught enough about Hap’s fake death. I can’t imagine how she’d have reacted to the real one.”

  Vivian paused and glanced away from him. She knew she had to proceed carefully. Either David truly didn’t know Hap and Lillian were having an affair, or he was lying about it. Or perhaps they weren’t having an affair at all, and Gwen had made the whole thing up in her attempt at covering something up. Someone was lying though. That much was clear.

  “But Lillian had only met Hap for a few minutes at the garden party, hadn’t she?” Vivian said.

  “Lillian is a sensitive soul…easily agitated.”

  Just a sensitive soul, or distraught that she believed her lover had been murdered? But David looked off toward the window, hiding his expression.

  “Had you seen Hap much since he’d been back in the country?”

  David shrugged. “A few times. Not enough.”

  “Was he going to stay in Chicago for a while?”

  “Apparently not.” David gripped the back of the chair and set his jaw. “Apparently, he was planning on dying.” His voice wavered, and he put one balled fist to his mouth. He sounded bitter, angry, and unbearably sad. Hap had been around for almost David’s entire life. Hap had planned on faking his death, yes, and that’s what David meant, didn’t he? He’d been his brother in everything but name, and now he was gone.

  Vivian looked away, partially because she wanted to give David a moment of privacy and partially because she didn’t want to start crying herself. The shock had gone now and left an emptiness in its wake. Hap’s real death had yet to hit her, and as long as she concentrated on uncovering the truth, she could manage to stave off the grief. They sat in silence, the clock ticking on the mantel. In the hall, the grandfather clock started to wind up. The chiming led up to the signaling of the hour. There was a single chime. Someone should stop the clock, she thought. There’s been a death in the family. She hitched in a breath and then pressed her lips together.

  “Do you even know how to use that thing?” David nodded at the gun.

  Vivian blinked. A single tear escaped her lower lashes, and she brushed it away. She looked down at the gun in her lap. She’d forgotten she was still holding it. Her fingers twitched over the grip, and she pulled them away. That gun felt alive, as if it might jump from her hands of its own accord.

  “I don’t even know what it is. What kind of gun, I mean,” she said, staring down at it.

  “It’s a Luger,” David said without hesitation. “A German pistol. Used during the Great War mainly, but they’re still being manufactured. It’s one of Father’s favorites. He likes to tell everyone that it was lifted from the body of a dead German officer at Ypres. Whether that’s true or not, I couldn’t tell you.”

  Vivian shivered and stared down at the gun. So the pistol Gwen had thrown into the lake was German and did not belong to Bernard. That made sense if a German agent had come here to shoot Hap. But why would he have thrown that pistol in the bushes? If a spy had shot Hap, he would have kept his gun. He also probably wouldn’t have shot Hap in the stomach. But if the murder weapon was not from a German spy, then where did it come from?

  Gwen had said she’d thrown it in the lake because she assumed David had shot Hap in a fit of jealousy. It certainly fit that Gwen might do that if she really suspected such a thing. But where would David have gotten the other pistol? And would he be able to stand here and calmly talk about Hap’s murder if he had? David had shown no signs of anything but grief over Hap and his death. She’d never known David to be much of an actor. He couldn’t even tell a joke without cracking himself up in the process.

  “Anyway, Viv. I don’t think you need it. Whoever killed Hap was out for Hap alone.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  David shrugged. “I can’t, I suppose, but hired goons usually stick to bumping off who they’ve been hired to bump off.”

  She stood and replaced the Luger on its peg. Then she closed the cabinet, locked it, and put the key back in the top drawer of the desk. David watched her, lost in thought. Then she moved to the adjacent wall and made a show of looking at the books on the shelf. She reached out, and her hand hovered over a row of books. She was standing in front of the secret door, and the row she’d chosen purely by chance contained mysteries. Agatha Christie. Her eyes scanned the titles until she found the one she was looking for. She pulled it out and looked at the cover—the man shoveling coal into the fiery furnace of the train engine.

  “Have you read it?” She held the book up so that David could read the cover.

  He nodded. “I’ve read them all. You?”

  “Only the first three chapters. I left my copy on the train when I hurried back here.”

  They stood in silent contemplation for a moment, both lost in thought.

  “You want to know who did it?” he asked suddenly.

  She hesitated only a moment before nodding.

  “Everyone,” he said, locking eyes with her. “They were all guilty.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Freddy. The name came to her as she watched David leave the room and head for the back stairs. Vivian hadn’t talked to Freddy in what seemed like days—not since she phoned him from the train station in Kansas City and lied to him. Her stomach twisted with guilt. Maybe if she’d called Freddy and told him everything after leaving the cabin, Charlie wouldn’t be in such danger now. Maybe she should call Freddy now. Everyone had something to hide in this house, and there wasn’t a soul among them she could trust.

  She tiptoed into Bernard’s office and slid the pocket doors closed behind her, flipping the lock. As she surveyed the room, her eyes lingered on the closet where Hap had been hiding this morning, alive and listening to her express her regret over the way they’d left things. She tore her eyes away and crossed to the other set of pocket doors that led into hall and locked them as well. She sat behind Bernard’s imposing desk. The top was tidy, regimented, like the Bernard she’d always known. Her mind flashed an image of how she’d just seen him in the guesthouse—sweaty, disheveled, and red-faced from crying. She shook her head. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it. And she would never have believed that her upstanding uncle had covered up a man’s murder if he hadn’t told her himself. You never know what someone’s capable of, she thought.

  She picked up the receiver. Freddy had been staying at the rooming house in town, but would he still be there with Charlie on the lam? Probably not, but she decided to try it anyway. What was the name—Henderson’s? Johnson’s? She thought hard. Albertson’s. Mrs. Albertson. The operator connected her, and an older woman answered breathlessly after seven rings.

  “Hello? Mrs. Albertson’s Rooming House. Mrs. Albertson speaking.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Albertson. Sorry to call so late,” Vivian said. “But is Mr. Frederick Endicott still boarding there by any chance? It’s an emergency.”

  “Mr. Endicott.” The woman pronounced the name as if repeating a word in a foreign language. “Oh yes, he’s here, and he told me someone might be calling in the middle of the night, and to always wake him if they did. Lawyer, isn’t he? I’ll fetch him for you.”

  Vivian heard the receiver clunk against the table as the woman laid it down.

  A moment later, Freddy came on the line. “Viv?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “What other woman would be calling me in the middle of the night claiming it’s an emergency?”

  “It is an emergency,” Vivian said. “The landlady, Mrs. Albertson… She’s not listening in somewhere, is she?” The woman had perked up considerably at the end of the call. She sounded like the type who loved a good piece of gossip.

  “No,” Freddy said quietly. “I can see her sitting in the parlor chair, safely out of earsho
t.”

  “Good. Because something’s gone wrong here. Terribly wrong, and I need your advice.”

  “In Hollywood?”

  “No, Freddy.” Vivian paused. She had to just come out and say it. It was the only way. “I lied to you. I didn’t get back on that train.”

  Freddy was silent, waiting for her to continue. Vivian remembered something he’d told her about his method of getting to the truth of a matter. Keep quiet and let them talk. They’ll eventually hang themselves. He’d been talking about cross-examining witnesses, but it applied in this situation as well, didn’t it? The problem though was she wouldn’t hang herself, but she just might hang Charlie. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “I knew where Charlie was when I phoned you, and I didn’t tell you,” she said, speaking quickly. “I left the train and went to him, Freddy.”

  “Where? Are you with him now?”

  “I’d rather not say where, and no, I’m not.” Vivian glanced around, listening for a sign that anyone might be able to overhear anything she said. She’d assumed David had gone upstairs, but what if he hadn’t? The walls were thin and uninsulated. But she only heard the radio in the other room, the muffled dance music playing on. “I’m back at Oakhaven, and things have gone topsy-turvy.”

  “What’s happened?” Freddy asked warily.

  “Hap’s dead. He’s dead again,” she whispered. Vivian suddenly felt herself on the verge of tears.

  “Vivian, I don’t understand.”

  “I know. I know you don’t.” She took a moment to gather herself. Tears would do no good now. “But just know that I’m certain Charlie didn’t do it. He’s been accused of a crime he didn’t commit, and now he’s running from the law. I need your help to straighten this out. Bernard told me he’d help clear Charlie’s name.”

  “Okay, I’m coming over,” Freddy said.

  “Wait. No, it’s late.” Vivian glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight, but that wasn’t the real reason. No, the real reason was that there were secrets here, and no one in this family would respond well to a lawyer coming in and asking questions. They’d all need time to get their stories straight. And if that’s what it took to clear Charlie’s name, she’d give them a little time.

  “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you there,” Freddy said. “You sound… Well, you don’t sound like yourself. Do you know where Charlie is?”

  “No. Has he gotten in touch with you?”

  “I have no idea where the fool might be,” Freddy said, not hiding the consternation in his voice. “Canada, if he has any sense.”

  Vivian’s heart sank. “Have you heard from Cal, his father?”

  “He came up shortly before Charlie escaped custody. I wouldn’t be surprised if he put Charlie up to it. They seemed of a kind, if you know what I mean. But no, I haven’t spoken to him since. Do you think they’re together?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. I hope so. At least he’d have someone.

  “I’m coming over first thing tomorrow morning,” Freddy said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Viv, don’t worry. We’ll clear all of this up.”

  “I hope so. Goodbye, Freddy.”

  “Goodbye.”

  She held the receiver to her ear for a moment before hanging up, lost in thought. Freddy sounded so sure of himself. She wanted to believe him. The phone clicked as Freddy’s line disconnected. Then, moments later, she heard a second soft click, as if another line in the house had disconnected as well.

  It was foolish of her to have used the telephone for something so serious, but she hadn’t told Freddy anything anyone at Oakhaven didn’t already know, had she? Everyone had already known Hap was still alive when she arrived this morning, and now they all knew he was dead. She didn’t have time for eavesdroppers.

  She stood in the hallway just outside Bernard’s office and listened. The house was quiet, but it felt alive, as if it were breathing softly. Something hummed just under the surface, and Vivian had the feeling that the events of the evening had only just begun. Perhaps she should just lie in bed and wait for the sunrise, she thought. Everything would be clear in the morning. Maybe she should have drunk the whole mug of milk and brandy. She’d be blissfully sleeping away, and when she woke up, she’d be convinced none of tonight’s events had really happened. But there would be no sleeping tonight for her. She headed to the kitchen for a glass of water and to think of what to do next.

  Adaline stood at the kitchen sink, looking out over the darkened lawn. Vivian tried to turn around and reverse course before her aunt noticed her, but the linoleum squeaked under her heel.

  Adaline’s hand flew up at the sight of Vivian. Her fingertips hovered over her chest and came to rest on her breastbone, just below her double set of pearls. “What are you doing down here?” she said. Then she paused and lowered her hands. “You need your rest.” Her narrowed eyes traveled down the length of Vivian’s body, lingering on the leaves stuck to her shoes. “Where have you been?” Adaline asked.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on around here,” Vivian said.

  Adaline’s face was carefully blank, and Vivian was determined to crack that icy facade.

  “So you’re going to pretend that you didn’t try to slip me a few sleeping pills in that milk and brandy and then lock me in my bedroom?” Vivian asked. She was careful to keep her voice even, controlled, matching her aunt’s demeanor.

  Adaline blinked but registered no surprise at the question. Those Markham women had ice in their veins, Vivian thought. She admired Adaline for that—the steel backbone, the staring down of all obstacles in her path.

  “I gave you those sleeping pills because you’d been through a shock,” Adaline said. “You needed to calm down.”

  “Calm down,” Vivian repeated. “And you locked me in my room because you wanted to make sure everything that had happened would be cleared up by the time I woke in the morning. And maybe you could convince me that seeing Hap die in the boathouse was a bad dream. Do I have it right?”

  “I didn’t”—Adaline glanced into the hallway over Vivian’s shoulder and then lowered her voice to an irritated hiss—“lock you in your room.”

  Liar, Vivian thought. She bit her tongue before she could spit the word from her mouth like venom and took a deep breath. She couldn’t come at Adaline with fire. Her aunt might respond in kind or, even worse, shut down completely, as Vivian’s mother would in a similar situation.

  “You knew that Hap wasn’t dead. The first time, I mean…on Sunday,” Vivian said. She tried not to let the anger bleed through into her voice.

  “There are so many things you don’t know,” Adaline said.

  “Like about Hap being a German spy?”

  Adaline turned her back to look out over the darkened side yard. She was quiet for a moment. Vivian heard the grandfather clock in the hall ticking industriously away. Adaline didn’t turn to look at her when she finally spoke.

  “You two thought you had the world by the tail,” she said. “You really thought no one knew, with you cavorting around like…like…”

  It took a moment for Vivian’s mind to catch up to what Adaline was saying. She was referring to that summer eight years ago.

  “You knew?” she whispered.

  “Of course I knew. All of Lake Geneva knew.”

  Vivian and Hap hadn’t been terribly careful about their carrying-on that summer. Perhaps Adaline had seen them herself. The idea sent a furious blush to Vivian’s cheeks. So everyone had known. Hadn’t David just alluded to the same thing in the game room? The secret Vivian had carried for years was never a secret at all.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Vivian said.

  “I did.” Adaline’s voice was flat. “I told Hap to put an end to it before your mother found out.”

  “And that was�
�”

  “Shortly after it had begun in earnest.”

  In earnest. After Vivian had made that fateful visit to the guesthouse. Adaline truly had a talent for saying something without actually saying it.

  “I thought of warning him off you when I noticed you making cow’s eyes at each other across the dinner table that summer. I should have put a stop to it right then, but I hadn’t expected that you’d go that far. I had no idea then the kind of girl you were.”

  Vivian clenched her hands into fists. “And what kind of girl was I?”

  “Fast,” Adaline said. She pitched her voice so low that Vivian almost missed her next words. “You just couldn’t keep your hands off him, could you?”

  Vivian’s mouth fell open. In Adaline’s eyes, Vivian had complete responsibility for what had happened. Hap was just a silly playboy. He couldn’t be blamed for his behavior. It was expected, after all. Boys were boys, and men were men. They couldn’t control themselves in the face of such blatant temptation. It was as if he had played no role in any of it. But he’d answered the door when she knocked. He’d let her in. He’d made her feel as if she were the only girl in the whole world. He’d left her with no explanation…

  “You sent him away,” Vivian said, thinking of how Hap had left so abruptly, without so much as a goodbye. She’d always hoped he hadn’t left like that of his own accord, and now she was certain.

  “What other choice did I have?”

  What other choice? Adaline could have told them she knew. She could have talked to them both about the situation. That was the logical response, but that was never how the family handled things. Unpleasantness was not addressed head-on. No, they let things fester until they exploded.

  “You must have bribed him somehow,” Vivian said.

  Adaline half turned, one eyebrow arched. “Oh, he went willingly enough. After I told him he could never accomplish anything he wanted in life if he stayed here.”