Silver River Secrets

by Linda Hope Lee

  “You’re sure my father was returning the necklace to your mother on the day he was shot?”

  “No, because she didn’t name the person.” Lacey rifled the journal’s pages. “But your father was the one who came, so I’m assuming he was bringing the necklace to her.”

  “And you think checking the pawnshops in the area might give us the answer? After ten years?”

  She shrugged. “I know it’s a long shot, but it’s all I have.”

  “What if you find out your father was the one who pawned it—if in fact it was pawned?”

  Lacey lifted her chin. “That isn’t going to happen. But you don’t have to get involved in this—”

  “Like I told you yesterday, I am involved. And if you want to check out the pawnshops, I’ll go with you. John can manage the shop today.”

  “All right. I’m ready now.” Lacey consulted her list. “We might as well start with the one in town—Mel’s Pawnshop.”

  Rory drove to the entrance to the highway, but instead of turning left, toward town, he turned right.

  “Where are you going?” Lacey asked. “Mel’s is in the other direction.”

  “I know. But there’s something I want to do first.”

  “What’s that?” Judging by the set of his jaw, the mission was a serious one.

  “I want to go by the farmhouse.”

  “Why would you want to do that when you hate it being there? I’d think you’d want to avoid it whenever possible.”

  “Huh. Pretty hard to do when the house is right off the highway. No, I want to go there—with you. We haven’t been there together since that day.”

  “We haven’t done anything together since that day. Except this trip. But, no, I can’t… We can’t.” She clenched her hands in her lap.

  He placed his hand briefly over hers. “Just for a few minutes. You have my word we’ll leave whenever you want. But, please, give it a try.”

  Since they were already on the way, Lacey gave up her protests. But her stomach churned, and the moment she glimpsed the house’s roof peeking through the willow trees a lump rose in her throat.

  “I remember that day like it was yesterday,” Rory said as he turned onto the road leading to the farm. “I brought you home from school, as usual. We saw the flashing lights from the highway, and when we drove down this road the sheriff’s deputy stopped us—”

  “—and said there’d been a sh-shooting,” Lacey said, her voice quavering. “When we asked who, he said he didn’t know.”

  “But then I spotted my father’s sports car behind the house, on the driveway leading to the barn. Right over there.” Rory slowed and pointed to the overgrown grass shielding the old driveway. “At first, I thought I must be mistaken. Why would Dad be here? But I knew the car was his. No one else in town drove a red Corvette.”

  “I can never come here without seeing your dad’s car in my mind’s eye,” Lacey said.

  Rory drove on, past the willow trees, to the house’s front door, where he pulled to a stop. Lacey leaned around him to look out his window. The place appeared the same as always—walkway overgrown with weeds, sagging screen door, peeling paint. Lonely and sad.

  She let a few moments pass and then said, “Okay, we’ve seen it. Now we can leave…”

  “I want to go inside.”

  Lacey leaned back and shook her head. “No, no—not possible.”

  “Why not? I’m betting you have a key.”

  “I do,” she admitted. “They’re always on my key ring when I’m in town. Gram often wants me to bring her here, and sometimes I come by myself. We don’t go in, but I carry the keys, just in case.”

  “Then you can give them to me now.” He turned and held out his hand. “I’m going in. You can stay here.”

  Lacey stared at his open palm and then raised her gaze to his face. His eyes were slightly narrowed and his mouth was set. The look that meant there was no use arguing with him. Better to let him have his way and get it over with.

  “All right, but I’ll go, too.” She opened her purse and pulled out her key ring.

  They got out of the truck and, Rory in the lead, went up the weed-infested walk. At the door, he stepped aside.

  Lacey stared at the screen door, full of holes and rotting wood, and swallowed hard. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  He nodded. “I’m sure.”

  He held open the screen while she unlocked the door, and they stepped inside. The air smelled of mold and dust and made her choke. She let her eyes adjust to the dim light of rooms long hidden behind drawn blinds and then stepped into the living room, where an overstuffed chair with torn upholstery, a scarred end table and a couple of straight chairs were the only remnants of occupancy.

  They went down a hall to the kitchen. Sunshine peeking through a torn blind splashed liquid gold across the floor, an incongruous bit of cheer in the otherwise dark room. A hole gaped where the refrigerator once stood. The dishwasher and stove were still in place, the stove with the oven door hanging open. Lacey went over and shut the door, although she wasn’t sure why. No one used the oven anymore, nor would they ever again.

  Back in the hallway, they approached the stairs leading to the second floor. Rory stopped and looked up toward the landing.

  “No,” Lacey said. “You don’t want to go up there.”

  “I do. I want to see the room where it happened. All these years, I’ve only imagined what the room was like. Now I want to be there. Stay here, if you’d like. Or wait in the truck.”

  “Okay, if you’re going up, I’ll go.”

  Gulping down a shaky breath, she climbed the steps, Rory behind her. When they reached the second floor, Lacey paused again and then started down the hallway. She barely glanced at the other rooms, including the one that had been hers, but headed straight for the last bedroom.

  “This was my parents’ room.”

  She opened the door, and they walked in.

  The room was as she remembered it. A brick fireplace with an arched opening and a raised hearth dominated one wall. The furniture included a double bed, with only a bare mattress on its frame, an oak dresser with a mirror, an armchair covered in a faded blue fabric and a small, round table.

  Two walls had windows, one overlooking the side yard, the other the backyard. Lacey pointed to the window facing the backyard. “The shots were fired out this window.”

  His face grim, Rory crossed to the window and looked out. “My father was on his way to his car when he was shot.”

  “That’s what came out in the trial.”

  “The trial. All we know about that day is from the trial, isn’t it?”

  “Except for what I read in the journal.”

  Rory turned away from the window and began to pace. “Let’s piece it together, what we heard at the trial and what you found out from the journal.”

  Lacey took a deep breath. “Okay. My mother lost her necklace at work.”

  “And others knew this.”

  “Yes, she asked people to look for it. Then she came down with a bad cold. She stayed home from work for several days. Sometime during that time, someone—I’m assuming it was your father—told her he found the necklace. That’s from the journal.”

  “Told her? How? Called her on the phone?”

  Lacey dug into her purse and took out the book. She opened it and flipped through the pages. “Here it is. There’s just a line in place of the name.” She showed him and then read aloud: “‘The one who found my necklace wants to bring it to me here at home.’”

  “So, according to the journal, he came here to give her the necklace.”

  “Yes, but no one knew that. It wasn’t mentioned in the trial. The prosecutor contended your father came here because he and my mother were having an affair—or about to start one. Evidence proved he was in this room. His fingerprints were found on the door and on the bedpost.”

  Lacey closed the journal. “Supposedly, my father came home and saw your father’s car pa
rked behind the house. He flipped out, grabbed his rifle and came upstairs. He found your father and my mother here in the bedroom.

  “Your father managed to escape. Maybe Rick ordered him out. We don’t know. Whatever, Al Jr. left, and on his way to his car, my father shot at him. Three times. Two shots missed him, but the third—”

  She swallowed and cast a glance at Rory. His face was pale. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s hard on you, too.”

  Rory passed a hand over his forehead. “No, I’m okay. Keep going. Then what happened?”

  “The prosecutor contended that my father went after my mother, who was in bed. She managed to get out of bed but got tangled in the sheets. Either he pushed her or she fell on her own and hit her head on the fireplace’s raised hearth.” Lacey walked over to the fireplace, gazed down at the brick hearth and shuddered.

  “She went into a coma,” Rory said dully.

  “And never woke up. My grandmother finally had her taken off life support.” Tears burned Lacey’s eyes, and she blinked hard to hold them back.

  “Your father said he was at Forksville, right?”

  Lacey hugged her arms and turned away from the fireplace. “Yes, he was at a job site there, which was verified. He came home around lunchtime to see if a check he was expecting had come in the mail. It had. Gram testified that the mailman arrived just as she was leaving to go to her bridge game. She put the mail, including the check, on the table in the entry. The check was gone when she came home.”

  “She’s the one who found my father, wasn’t she?”

  “Uh-huh. When she drove around behind the house to park her car, she saw him lying in the driveway.” Lacey walked to the window again. She looked out at the spot and swallowed hard.

  “Go on, please,” Rory said in a strained voice.

  Lacey heaved a breath. “Gram came upstairs and found my mother unconscious here on the floor. She called the aid car and the police.”

  “As I recall, the police picked up your father in Forksville.”

  “Right. He admitted coming home to get the check. He said he came upstairs to look in on my mother. She was asleep, and he didn’t wake her. He left and went back to Forksville. His boss confirmed he was there.”

  “And the murder weapon?”

  “My father’s rifle. The police found it over there.” She pointed to the doorway. “Most of the fingerprints had been wiped off, but what remained were his.” Her lips trembled, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up and met Rory’s bleak eyes.

  “Oh, Lacey, honey.”

  Rory put his arms around her and gathered her close. Unable to resist any longer, she let the tears freely flow. As he lowered his head to pull her tighter, his cheek, wet with his own tears, brushed hers, which made her cry all the harder.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SITTING NEXT TO Rory in his truck, Lacey leaned back against the seat and took a deep breath. They hadn’t spoken since they’d ended their embrace and left the house.

  She glanced at him. He stared straight ahead out the windshield, as though lost in his thoughts.

  “Rory?” she said tentatively.

  He turned and their eyes met. His were bleak.

  “Are you glad we talked about what we know of that night?”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “Not sure glad is the right word, but, yeah, I needed to do that. Needed it for a long time. Hard on both of us, though.”

  “Yes, it was.” She looked away for a moment but then turned back to him and straightened her shoulders. “But do you see now that the murderer could have been someone else? Someone who took the necklace?”

  “And pawned it because it was incriminating evidence?”

  “Only it really wasn’t, because no one knew Al was returning it to my mother.”

  Rory slowly shook his head. “I gotta say, that’s a stretch.”

  She shrugged, palms up. “It’s all I have right now. But if you don’t want to waste your time on this—”

  “I said I wanted to help you, and I meant it, Lacey.”

  At his sharp tone, she lowered her hands and bit her lip. “Sorry I’m so touchy. I want so badly for my theory to be true.”

  “I know you do,” he said, his voice softer. “And if your father didn’t kill mine, I sure want to know who did. So, okay, onward to the pawnshops to see what we can find.”

  *

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, they pulled up in front of Mel’s Pawnshop, located on Sandstone Avenue between Goldilock’s Hair Salon and Ben’s Variety Store. A bell on the door announced their arrival. A tall, skinny man stood behind a counter arranging wristwatches in a tray. He looked up, his gaze landing first on Lacey and then on Rory.

  “Well, hello, Rory. You bring me a new customer?”

  “Maybe. This is Lacey Morgan.” He took Lacey’s hand and led them to the counter.

  Mel frowned. “Morgan…as in Rick Morgan?”

  Lacey nodded. “My father.” Anticipating his negative response, she tensed.

  “You don’t live here anymore.” Mel idly fingered one of the watches.

  “I moved to Boise, but I come back to visit. My grandmother still lives here. Remylon Whitfield.”

  “I seen you around town now and then. And sure, I know the Whitfields. My dad and Jay went to school together. So, what can I do for ya?”

  “Lacey’s trying to track down a piece of jewelry.” Rory leaned one elbow on the counter. “A family heirloom.”

  “That right?” Mel put the watch in the tray and shoved it to one side.

  “I don’t have a photo, but here’s a drawing.” Lacey took a copy of the drawing from her purse and handed it to Mel.

  She held her breath while he studied the drawing.

  “Hmm, looks like a nice piece,” he said. “Amethysts, it says here.” He tapped the paper with his forefinger.

  “Yes, and the gold is twenty-four karat.”

  Mel looked up and shrugged. “I dunno. I might have seen it. Might not. A lotta stuff comes through here. How long ago you figure it was lost?”

  “Ten years ago.”

  “Right around the time of the shooting.” He cast an apologetic look at Rory. “Sorry about that, Rory. You father was a good man.”

  Rory acknowledged the comment with a solemn nod. “Could you check your records for the necklace?”

  Mel shook his head. “Don’t keep records that far back. Even if we did and I found one on this here, I couldn’t tell you who brought it in. Privacy law, you know.”

  “But say the seller was Lacey’s father. He’s dead now.”

  Mel nodded. “Died in prison, I heard.”

  “So would the privacy law still apply?” Lacey asked.

  “That’s a good question and one I can’t answer.”

  Rory straightened and propped his hands on his hips. “Sure appreciate it if you could help us out. This is really important to Lacey.”

  “The necklace belonged to my great-grandmother, Jay’s mother,” Lacey said. “I’d really like to have it back.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I hear that story all the time.” Mel folded his long, thin arms close to his chest.

  “I’m sure you do,” Rory said. “But isn’t there something you can tell us? You knew Lacey’s father, didn’t you?”

  “Sure, I knew him. He worked for the outfit that remodeled Goldie’s next door.” He pointed a thumb in that direction.

  “Did you know him as a customer?” Lacey asked, encouraged that they might be getting somewhere.

  He gave her a long look and then said, “Okay, yeah, he was a customer. I’ll tell you that much.”

  Mel’s admission didn’t surprise Lacey. Money slipped through Rick’s fingers like sand. “But you don’t remember if he brought in the necklace.”

  Mel’s frown deepened as he looked from Lacey to Rory. “What’s going on here? I get the feeling you two are digging for more than the necklace. You’re asking questions like you’re the cops or something. What gives?�
��

  Rory stepped back and raised both hands. “We’re just hoping to find Lacey’s necklace, that’s all.”

  “Thought it was your grandmother’s.”

  “Originally, it was. It was passed down to my mother, and eventually was supposed to be mine.”

  “So, how did it get lost?”

  “I don’t know. It just disappeared,” Lacey said.

  “Sorry, I can’t help you.” Mel held the drawing out to Lacey.

  “Please, keep it,” she said. “And I’d appreciate a call if you remember anything you think would help me.”

  Mel shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Okay, but don’t hold your breath waitin’.”

  *

  “DO YOU THINK he knew more than he was letting on?” Lacey asked Rory when they were back on the street.

  “Hard to say.” Rory took her elbow and guided her to his truck parked at the curb. “He’s been in the business a long time, and he’s undoubtedly used to being questioned. Can’t blame him for protecting himself. And, he did finally admit your father was a customer.”

  “I still felt he was prejudiced against me.”

  “Really? I didn’t notice anything. Do you think you might be overreacting?”

  Lacey stopped walking and pulled away. “No, I don’t think I’m overreacting. You don’t understand, and you never will. Maybe I should do this alone.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “Please, don’t get upset. That was a dumb remark.”

  She turned her head away so that he wouldn’t see the tears burning her eyes. She hated being vulnerable. That was why she was on this search. One reason, anyway. Once she proved her father’s innocence, she would no longer be vulnerable. She would be able to hold up her head wherever she went.

  “Lacey…” Rory lightly touched her cheek with his forefinger. “I’m sorry.”

  She took a deep breath and mustered a tremulous smile. “Okay, apology accepted.”

  “Good. Now, what’s next on our list?”

  For the next couple of hours, they traveled the highway to neighboring towns, locating the pawnshops on Lacey’s list. No one knew anything about the necklace. If they did, they didn’t admit it. At noon, Rory and Lacey ate lunch at a roadside café. At two, as they emerged from yet another shop with no luck, Lacey said, “Maybe we should give up for today. You probably need to get back to work.”