Silver River Secrets

by Linda Hope Lee

Lacey set her carton next to his. “I’m pleased she was able to let go of at least some of her belongings.”

  “I remember you said she hangs on. How’d you convince her?”

  “I pointed out that these treasures would be on display here where she could see them whenever she wanted. And that others could appreciate them, too.”

  He gave her an admiring glance. “Hey, pretty smart.”

  Lacey grinned. “It worked, anyway.” She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the worktable loaded with bags and boxes. “What’s the procedure?”

  “Log in each item.” He pointed to the computer on a nearby table. “The clothing goes on those racks, the books on the shelves and small, miscellaneous items on the carts.”

  “Your committee is well organized.”

  “They are. But like I said, they’ve been busy with Silver River Days and haven’t had time to do much sorting. I’m sure they’ll appreciate your help.”

  “I’m happy to lend a hand.”

  “Okay, go for it. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

  Del left, his footsteps echoing along the cement hallway.

  Lacey turned her attention to the table. As she’d told Del, she was glad to help. She volunteered because she truly enjoyed anything that had to do with the past, considering herself a historian. Besides, she liked Del Ford. He’d been helpful and accommodating when she interviewed him for the Sentinel, offering the museum’s resources as well as his own knowledge.

  So this was going to be fun. And maybe she’d find something that would help her own personal search, too.

  *

  “HOW’RE YOU DOING, LACEY?”

  “What?” Lacey looked up to see Del standing in the workroom doorway.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He stepped into the room.

  “That’s okay. What time is it?” She checked her wristwatch. “Have I been here two hours already?”

  “You have. Any treasures so far?”

  “Lots. Look at this baby doll from the Cooper family.” She held up the doll she’d been examining. “They donated several dolls, and this one dates back to the early 1900s. She’s in great condition.”

  She patted the doll’s painted-on brown hair, and then tipped her back and forth to show how her blue eyes opened and closed with the movement.

  Del hitched up his trousers. “I bet that doll belonged to Nettie. She was quite the lady. My great-grandfather courted her but lost out to Eddie Peabody. Eddie owned the hardware store, and she wanted to live in town and not on my ancestor’s farm. Anyway, the Coopers have been generous to us.”

  Lacey smoothed the doll’s pink cotton dress. “She would be perfect in the doll carriage upstairs.”

  “Good idea.”

  Lacey put down the doll and picked up a red chiffon dress. “This is from Cora Trenton. It’s from the ’20s.”

  “As you know, Cora’s one of our big donors. If you have time, you could dress a couple mannequins in the clothes she brought and stick ’em in the Trenton wing. That should make her happy.”

  “I’ll do that. Speaking of Cora, I went to Wildwood the other day to interview her for the paper’s special edition. She has her own museum.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been there. Quite a place. It’s too bad she’s all alone now.”

  “I know how she feels. ’Course, I still have Gram, but everyone else in my family is gone.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “What happened with your dad and Rory’s dad was a bad scene. Shocked everybody. Al Jr. was well liked around town.”

  Lacey stiffened. “And my father wasn’t.”

  “He had problems. ’Specially where money was concerned.”

  “Money matters to a lot of people.” Lacey sorted through a pile of scarves, picked out one and held it against the dress. A perfect match. She laid the scarf aside.

  “Sure, money’s important, but most of us don’t commit murder over it.”

  Lacey folded her arms and gave Del her full attention. “What do you mean? Was there a money issue between my father and Rory’s father?”

  “I think there was. I was in on some of those poker games with them in the back room at The Owl.”

  “Who else was there? Do you remember? I want to know everything I can about my father and his life, including his friends…”

  “I wouldn’t call any of the other players his friends. But, okay, let me think.” He rubbed his chin and looked at the ceiling. “Besides Al and me, there was Hugh Bennett—”

  “Sophie’s husband?”

  He shot her a glance. “Yes, why?”

  “I’m surprised he gambled. Sophie says he’s tight with his money.”

  “He is. But at that time, Sophie was bugging him to buy the B and B. They had money from the sale of their farm, but not enough.”

  “Did he win much?”

  “Not that I ever saw. But I wasn’t there for every game, mind you.”

  “Okay, please, go on. Who else?”

  He ticked off the names on his fingers. “Clint Roche. He and Claire almost got divorced over his gambling, so I heard.”

  Claire Roche, the woman Lacey suspected of placing the pansies on the graves.

  “Elton Watts was another player.”

  “Elton? That surprises me. I can’t see him involved in anything illegal.”

  “That was when his wife was sick. He had doctor bills insurance didn’t cover.”

  “I guess that would be a motivator. Any others?”

  “Bonnie Rosen’s husband, Tom. She was a waitress at The Owl, along with your mother. Still is. I suppose he came the closest to being a friend of your dad’s. They went fishing together.”

  “And Bonnie told me the two couples spent time together, too.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that, but like I said, your dad had a temper. One time, he accused Al Jr. of cheating. And he threatened him.”

  “With a gun?”

  “Well, not that we could see. But we all knew he carried. Al won the pot that night, too.”

  *

  IN HER ROOM at Sophie’s that evening, Lacey took out her mother’s journal. She’d been so busy lately that she hadn’t taken the time to read any more entries. Kicking off her shoes and plumping up the pillows, she settled on the bed, opened the book and read more of the entries, focusing on those made after Norella began working at The Owl.

  She found nothing about any gambling in the restaurant’s back room. Nor was there any mention of the necklace, until she’d lost it. Lacey still thought the necklace was the key to everything. If only she could find out what happened to it. Gram had speculated that if Lacey’s father took it, he’d pawned it. Suppose that were true. If so, what happened to the necklace after that? He wouldn’t have had the opportunity to reclaim it after he was arrested.

  If the police didn’t know about the necklace’s existence, they wouldn’t have searched for it. So, if Rick had pawned the jewelry, it was long gone by now, either sold to someone else or perhaps melted down for the gold. Lacey grimaced. She hated to think of the beautiful keepsake being destroyed.

  Pawnbrokers kept records of their customers, but for how long? Even if they were kept for ten years or more, privacy laws might protect the identity of the person who’d brought in the necklace.

  Was attempting to find the necklace a waste of time? Or a chance to find the true killer?

  Lacey slipped off the bed and took out Sophie’s photo of her mother wearing the necklace. She took it and a sheet of paper and a pencil to the table, where she sat and drew a picture of the necklace.

  Her mother had told her the piece was unique, having been designed for her grandmother by a jeweler who was a family friend. Her parents had commissioned it for her twenty-first birthday. Amethyst was her birthstone. There were five of the stones, each in a gold filigree setting, suspended from a gold filigree chain.

  Lacey finished the sketch and tucked it away in the journal. Maybe tomorrow she’d know what to do
next.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “YOUR CAR’S READY to go,” Rory told Lacey during their call the following day. She was in her office at the Sentinel, surrounded by books and journals and microfiche, deep in research for the newspaper’s special edition. She and Rory hadn’t spoken since their discussion after the committee meeting. She’d thought about him a lot, though, and was both pleased and dismayed by how good hearing his voice made her feel.

  “Wonderful. I didn’t even know you’d received the part.”

  “When it arrived, I went ahead and installed it. You weren’t expecting to help, were you?”

  “No, I’m busy with my job for Elton. I’m glad you could do it.”

  “I’ll bring your car into town, and we can exchange cars. When’s a good time?”

  “I’m at the Sentinel now, but not for long. I have a couple of interviews this morning and then lunch with Gram. This afternoon I’m working at the museum.”

  “Busy lady. I’ll catch up with you at the museum.”

  “I’ll look for you.”

  Later, in the museum’s sorting room, Lacey searched a box of vintage hats for just the right one to match the mannequin’s tweed jacket. She finally chose one of gray felt and set it on the model’s red-wigged head. She stepped back and surveyed the effect. No, the hat needed more color, maybe blue, to pick up the blue in the jacket.

  She sighed, pulled off the hat and tossed it back in the box. She dug through the hats again but finally gave up. Her mind wasn’t on her job today. Her appointment with Rory this afternoon kept her nerves on edge. Telling herself their meeting would be brief, with only the exchange of her Camaro for his loaner, hadn’t done much good.

  Half an hour later, Rory arrived.

  “Del told me where to find you,” he said, stepping into the room.

  Lacey made a sweeping gesture. “This is where I’ve been hanging out.”

  “You’ve got company, I see.” He nodded at the mannequins.

  His teasing tone took the edge off her tension.

  “Yeah, but they’re not much for conversation.”

  He tipped back his head and laughed. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So, what does this have to do with your job for Elton?”

  “Nothing. When Del mentioned that the ladies who usually sort were busy with the celebration, I volunteered to help out.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “My motive was purely selfish. You know how I love history and old stuff.”

  “I know that very well,” he said, his tone serious. He let a beat go by and then added, “Your car’s out front, so whenever…”

  Lacey waved a hand. “Now’s good, so let’s get our business over with.”

  The last words came out sharper than she’d intended.

  He raised his eyebrows, but then nodded and turned to lead the way.

  On the main floor, Del was showing visitors around the exhibits. He took a moment to exchange waves with Lacey and Rory before they went out the front door.

  Outside, Lacey’s gaze landed on her car sitting at the curb. The top was down and the white paint shone in the sunlight. “Wow, my car looks beautiful.”

  “Wynn Walker’s gas station and car wash is down the hill from the shop. Only took a few minutes to fill up the tank and run her through the wash.”

  “I hope it runs as good as it looks.”

  “I guarantee it does. Want to try it out?”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He grinned. “You trust me, huh?”

  “Where cars are concerned.”

  His smile faded. “Lacey, I need to talk to you—about the other day at the committee meeting…”

  “Oh, Rory, talking won’t change anything. You have your opinions, and I have mine.”

  “I still need to talk to you. I’m not handing over your keys until that happens.”

  Lacey puffed her cheeks and exhaled. “You are a stubborn man.”

  “I am. You should know that.”

  Behind them, the museum door opened, and a group spilled out and headed down the ramp. As Lacey stepped aside to let them pass, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Del peering out the window. He gave a sheepish grin, waved and ducked out of sight.

  She turned back to Rory. “Well…I do need to write you a check. Where do you suggest we go?”

  “How about Dugan’s?” He pointed to the café across the street.

  “It’s so public. People will see us together there.”

  “It’s way too late to worry about that.”

  *

  DESPITE LACEY’S CONCERN, none of the customers paid her and Rory any attention when they entered the café and chose a table by the window. The waitress gave them a friendly but impersonal greeting and took their orders for coffee without further comment.

  Lacey pulled her checkbook from her purse. “Let’s take care of the bill first.”

  Rory took some papers from his shirt pocket, unfolded them and slid them across the table.

  Lacey perused the invoice and then looked up. “I don’t see any charge for labor.”

  He waved dismissively. “I threw that in.”

  “Why? I don’t want your charity.”

  “Not charity. And no strings attached. Just something I wanted to do.”

  His firm tone told her arguing would be useless. She wrote out a check and handed it to him. “Thanks for fixing my car,” she said with sincerity.

  “You’re welcome. It’s what I do.” A smile played across his lips.

  “I know. And you do it very well.”

  Their coffees came, and they picked up their cups and drank. The silence between them grew awkward. Overhead, the ceiling fans hummed, and across the way a table of teenagers laughed and joked. The aroma of frying hamburgers drifted from the restaurant’s kitchen.

  Finally, Rory spoke. “Lacey, I need to apologize for what I said at the meeting the other day—”

  “You don’t have to—”

  He raised a hand. “Hear me out, please. When Jorgen told me about the questions you asked him, I got angry. I want to put the past behind me. I want to move on.”

  “I do, too. I live every day with the belief that my father is considered a murderer.”

  “Is a murderer.”

  Lacey slapped her palm on the table. “See? That’s where you and I part company.”

  “If you could only accept it—”

  “This conversation is over.” Lacey reached for her purse.

  Rory laid a hand on her arm. “No, it’s not. I’m not finished.”

  Lacey briefly closed her eyes. Her stomach churned. “All right. Say your piece and then let me go.”

  “Okay. If you’re so determined to do this, then I want to help you.”

  Lacey dropped her jaw. “What?”

  “You heard me. I want to help you.”

  “Why? You don’t believe in my father’s innocence. You just confirmed that a few minutes ago. Why would you want to get involved?”

  “Because, although I don’t agree with you, I understand what proving his innocence means to you. And if that’s possible, I want to help you make it happen.”

  “Oh, Rory—”

  “Look. Ten years ago, I abandoned you. We never spoke after that day.”

  “I know,” she said, and pressed her stomach as the old pain surfaced.

  “I should have stood by you.”

  “But I abandoned you, too. We both did what our families told us to do. We were young—”

  “Eighteen is old enough to take a stand. I didn’t.” He looked out the window. “Maybe if I had, things between us would have turned out differently. But I want to move forward. You want to prove his innocence. Have you found anything that might do that?”

  Lacey bit her lip. “I can’t say.”

  Rory leaned forward. “Yes, you can. You can trust me. This is me, Rory, you’re talking to.” He pointed a th
umb at his chest. “We used to tell each other everything.”

  “I know, but that was then, and this is now.”

  He leveled her a look. “I’m the same old Rory. You could trust me before, and you can trust me now.”

  Lacey took a deep breath. “All right, I did find something.”

  “Tell me. I’ve got time…”

  She put out a hand. “No, Rory. Not now. This is a big step for me to take, and I need to be sure taking you into my confidence is the right thing to do. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  Rory furrowed his brow. “But—”

  “Don’t push. Please.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait until tomorrow. But don’t forget, Lacey, I’m in this with you, whether you like it or not.”

  *

  AT TEN O’CLOCK the following morning, Lacey’s cell phone rang. She picked it up and checked the screen. Rory’s number.

  “Good morning, Rory,” she said into the phone.

  “I’m outside in the parking lot.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Eager, are you?”

  “You bet. Didn’t know whether or not to come in.”

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “Good. Have you made your decision?”

  Her gaze strayed to her mother’s journal lying on the round table. She’d spent a restless night making up her mind.

  “You’ll find out in a few minutes,” she said.

  “I know you’re choosing in my favor.”

  “Such confidence.”

  “I do have confidence in you, Lacey. See you in a few minutes.”

  Lacey switched off the phone. She stared at the journal a moment more and then walked over, picked it up and tucked it into her purse.

  In the parking lot, he had the passenger door to his truck open, and she climbed onto the seat beside him.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

  “Let’s sit here while I tell you what I have. When you hear, you may not want to go anywhere.”

  Half an hour later, after sharing her mother’s journal and the drawing she’d made of the necklace, Lacey sat back and asked, “So, what do you think?”

  Rory tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You may be on to something. The necklace was never mentioned in the investigation or the trial.”

  “That’s just it. What happened to it?”