“I’ll find some other way to honor him.” Rory clamped his jaw shut and folded his arms.
Neither spoke for several minutes. Then A.J. said in clipped tones, “Okay, enough for now. There are some accounts on your desk to go over.”
Rory stood. “Sure. I’ll take care of them. And you’ll have my resignation by the end of the day.”
Rory headed down the hall to his office in a daze. Although he’d long dreamed of resigning from his job at Dalton Properties, he never expected it to happen like this. He felt as though he were stepping off a ledge with the ground nowhere in sight.
And yet, a few hours later, when he placed his resignation on his grandfather’s desk—thankfully, A.J. had already left for the day—and walked out into the sunlight, he felt better than he had in a long, long time.
*
“HOW’RE YOU DOING down here?” Del asked Lacey the following Tuesday.
Lacey surveyed the array of clothing, jewelry, old dolls, kitchen utensils and other items on the workroom’s table. “I think every family in town must have cleaned house and made a donation.”
He laughed. “We sure got a good response to the request we ran in the Sentinel. This is a lot of work for you, though, and all this doesn’t have to be sorted now. As soon as Silver River Days are over, the ladies who usually do this will be back on the job.”
“I know. But I enjoy it. I at least want to get the mannequins into costumes. They’ll add a lot to the displays.”
He wandered to the table. “What’s this?” He pointed to a box of rocks.
“From the Martin family. The rocks were found on their farm, which is near an old silver mine. Some of them have veins of silver.”
“I see that.” Del picked up a rock and turned it over in his hands. “We can add these to the display on mining.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ll make a card for them.”
“I’d appreciate that, Lacey.” He replaced the rock and looked at his wristwatch. “Just about closing time now, though.”
“I know, but would you mind if I stayed for a while?”
Del frowned and rubbed his chin. “I don’t know… Maybe not such a good idea.”
“Why not? I’m safe here. No one can get in, right?”
“We had a breakin a coupla months ago. The alarm went off, but the thieves got away with a bunch of gold coins before the cops got here.”
“What time did the breakin occur?”
“About 2:00 a.m.”
“I won’t be staying that late. I’ll leave before dark, if that will make you feel any better.”
“Well…okay. I’ll get out of your way, then.”
His steps echoed down the hallway and then faded away.
Lacey picked up the skirt she’d chosen for the ’50s model. She slipped the blue felt over the mannequin’s head and positioned it so that the red hibiscus appliqué was in the front.
A noise, like a door closing, drifted down the stairwell. She raised her head, ears alert. Maybe Del forgot something and had returned. She remained still but heard nothing more. She picked up the red blouse she’d chosen to go with the skirt.
As she slipped the blouse over the model’s head, footsteps sounded in the hallway. She looked up, expecting to see Del, but a woman entered the room. Cora Trenton, carrying a large cardboard box.
“Oh, Mrs. Trenton. I thought you were Del.”
“He said you were working late this evening, so I thought I’d bring over a few more donations. I have my own key. I often drop in after hours to attend to our new wing.”
“Yes, the one honoring your family. Well, this is nice of you.” Lacey took the box from Cora and set it on the table. “I’m sure the museum appreciates your generosity.”
Cora straightened the jacket to her beige pantsuit and secured her tapestry purse over her arm. “I am on the museum board. So in a sense, I am the museum.”
“Yes, of course,” Lacey said, determined to be polite. “Because of you and all the others who so generously give, the Silver River Museum is one of the best around.”
“Is that right? And you’ve seen a lot of museums, I suppose?”
The woman’s challenging tone grated, yet Lacey kept her voice even. “As an historian, yes, I have visited a lot of museums.”
When Cora made no move to leave, Lacey said, “Thanks again for your donation. I’d better get back to work.”
Cora stood her ground. Her gaze cut away from Lacey and landed on the mannequins. “What are you working on?”
“An exhibit from the ’50s. Did you happen to bring any clothing from that decade?” She nodded at Cora’s box.
Cora shook her head. “Not this time. What I brought tonight belonged to Cal. I’ve had a difficult time going through his things since he left us, but now that we have the Trenton wing, I want him represented there.”
Hearing the catch in Cora’s voice, Lacey softened. Cora had lost people she loved, just as she had, and the memories lived on. The circumstances of death didn’t alter the fact that they were loved and missed.
Lacey nodded at the box. “May I take a look?”
“Of course. You’re in charge.”
Lacey doubted Cora believed that but smiled politely. She opened the box and pulled out a manila envelope stuffed with photographs.
“Cal took a lot of pictures,” Cora said. “That bunch includes some of the dam project and wildlife he saw while hiking in the mountains.”
“Wonderful. We have a display on the dam and one of wild animals, too.”
“I know,” she said dryly.
“Of course you do. What was I thinking?” Lacey set the photos aside and reached into the box again. This time she pulled out an army jacket. As she unfolded it, the odor of mothballs floated into the air.
Cora snapped her fingers. “Oh, I forgot I put that jacket in, too. It’s from the ’50s. George wore it in the Korean War. After he passed away, Cal wore it on occasion. He worshiped his father.”
Lacey held up the jacket. “This will be great for the male ’50s model. I’m almost finished with the female.” She gestured to the half-dressed mannequin.
“You’ll make sure the display includes Cal’s name, now, won’t you?”
“Absolutely.” Lacey laid the jacket on the table and pulled the trousers from the box. They, too, reeked of mothballs.
Cora slanted her a glance. “I suppose you’ll be leaving town once the celebration is over.”
Lacey folded the trousers and placed them on top of the jacket. “I’m not sure,” she said, keeping her tone casual.
Cora idly fingered a silk scarf lying on the table. “You have a job in Boise, don’t you? Surely, you don’t want to give that up to move back here.”
“Gram’s been wanting me to come back for a long time. I miss Silver River. I miss it a lot.”
“I can’t imagine you’d ever want to live here again, considering what your father did. And, frankly, the town doesn’t need the kind of churning up you’ve been doing. Bad enough your father’s in our cemetery to remind us. Whenever I go to visit Cal and George, I have to pass your father’s grave.” She put down the scarf, hugged her arms and shuddered.
“I’m sorry that bothers you.”
“Why are you asking so many questions around town about Al Jr.’s murder? You don’t need that kind of information for the Sentinel. No one wants to remember that awful time, or the man who did such a horrible thing.”
Lacey winced. Cora was certainly testing her tonight. But enough was enough.
She looked Cora in the eye. “I don’t believe my father was the one who shot Al Jr.”
Cora narrowed her eyes. “I thought that might be the reason. But that’s ridiculous. He was tried and convicted.”
“Mistakes are made in trials. He wouldn’t be the first man sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”
Cora propped her hands on her hips. “What could possibly make you think your father wasn’t the killer?”
<
br /> “I have my reasons. But tonight, I’m here to dress the mannequins.” Lacey reached into the box and pulled out a folder containing a coin collection, and a square leather box. She held up the box. “What’s in this?”
Cora’s frown turned into a smile. “Cal’s cuff links and tie clasps. He was quite the dresser. He always wore a suit and tie to his job at City Hall. He planned to run for mayor, you know, like his father. He would’ve won, too,” she added on a wistful note.
“I’m looking for cuff links for the shirt my ’40s model is wearing.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a set of Cal’s that will work. And with a tie clasp to match.”
“I’ll take a look.” Lacey popped the box’s snap and lifted the lid. The container held about a dozen pairs of cuff links and as many tie clasps. Some had stones, some had his initials and some were plain.
“Nice collection,” Lacey said.
“Cal had good taste.”
“I like this one.” Lacey held up a silver cuff link engraved with curlicues.
“Choose whatever you wish.” Cora waved dismissively.
“I need to find the other link.” Lacey poked around in the box.
“It’s in there. Cal was very careful about his things.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Lacey turned toward the door just as Del stepped into the room.
“Hello, ladies.” Del looked from Cora to Lacey. “Got all the way home and realized I forgot the book I’m reading, a new one on the Civil War. Saw your car out front, Cora. Didn’t see you upstairs, so figured you were down here with Lacey. Thought I’d say hello.”
“I brought some donations for the displays.” Cora gestured to the worktable. “Mostly Cal’s things.”
“Isn’t she somethin’, Lacey? She’s done more for this town than anyone I know. She ’n’ George, and Cal, too, rest their souls. We’re lucky to have you, Cora.”
“Yes, we are lucky,” Lacey said with a touch of irony. Then she realized she’d said “we,” as though she were a part of the town, too, and smiled to herself.
“My pleasure.” Cora beamed.
They chatted a few more minutes about the museum displays, and then Cora looked at her wristwatch. “I should be getting back to Wildwood.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” Del said. “I have some questions about tomorrow’s committee meeting.” He turned to Lacey and waggled a finger. “Don’t you stay too late, now, you hear? Your grandma’s probably waitin’ for you to come and play Scrabble.”
“I’ll leave soon,” Lacey promised. “I’ll put these cuff links Cora brought on the model’s shirt, straighten up a bit and then I’ll be done.”
After Del and Cora left, Lacey finished dressing the female mannequin with stockings and high heels. A white pearl necklace and earrings and a red patent leather shoulder bag completed her outfit.
Now, to finish the ’40s male mannequin. She picked up Cal’s leather cuff-link box and, after poking around a bit, spotted the link that matched the one she’d chosen earlier. But when she grasped it between thumb and forefinger, it wouldn’t budge. Then she saw that part of it was stuck underneath the pad in the bottom. She tugged harder and the link popped free. At the same time, the pad came loose, with a force that sent links and tie clasps flying.
Lacey was about to push the pad back into place and retrieve the jewelry from the floor when something gold underneath the pad caught her eye. Another cuff link or a tie clasp? No, too delicate. She pulled the object free and held it up. Amethyst stones in filigree settings glittered in the overhead light. A necklace. Not just any necklace—her mother’s necklace.
Lacey dropped her jaw and stared, unable to believe her eyes. But, yes, the necklace was Norella’s. She’d know it anywhere.
Her thoughts whirled. Had Cal stolen it? Was he Al Jr.’s killer? And what about her mother? Did Cal have anything to do with her death?
She must tell someone, but who? Not Gram. Not yet. Rory? Could she trust him? Of course she could. They may have their differences, but he would never betray her.
She picked up the cuff-link box, intending to replace the pad. Then she saw the corner of a piece of paper. There was more hidden?
She freed the paper, a folded square small enough to be concealed in the bottom of the box. Holding it gingerly between her thumbs and forefingers, she unfolded it. The size of a sheet of notebook paper, one edge was ragged where torn from its source. Small, cramped handwriting covered both sides. One side had a date in the upper right-hand corner.
Lacey gasped.
The note had been written ten years ago, on the day Al Jr. was shot and her father was arrested.
She swallowed hard and began to read…
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“‘I DID SOMETHING bad today. I shot Al Dalton, Jr. Shot him dead.’” Rory read aloud the opening words of the note Lacey found in Cal Trenton’s cuff-link box. He turned to look at Lacey. “Unbelievable.”
Lacey shifted her position on the hard bench. “That’s what I thought, too.”
She’d wanted to call him last night but feared the hour was too late. And so, after a restless sleep, she’d phoned him early this morning and told him of her discovery. He came over to Sophie’s, but instead of sitting in the parlor, where they might be overheard, they went down to the river and sat on one of the benches along the bank.
“Read on,” Lacey said. Maybe hearing the words aloud would make Cal’s confession more real.
Rory cleared his throat and continued.
“I couldn’t let Al be with Norella. I followed him to her house, crept in after him and saw him go up to her room. I grabbed Rick’s rifle from the mudroom, where I knew he kept it and went up the stairs. I heard their voices in one of the bedrooms.
“I burst in. Al stood at the foot of the bed. Norella was in bed under the covers.
“‘Get out!’ I ordered and pointed the rifle at Al. He turned and saw me. ‘Cal! What the hell are you doin’?’
“‘Get out,” I told him again.
“‘Go,’ Norella told him. ‘He won’t hurt me. Will you, Cal?’
“‘Of course I won’t,’ I said.
“Al ran past me and out the door. Something he’d been holding fell to the floor, but I was too busy wanting him gone to bother with it just then.
“‘I’ll be watching to see you get in your car,’ I said. Ordering him out like that felt good. He thought he was such a big shot.
“I went to the window and waited till I saw him on the driveway walking to his car. But then he pulled out his cell phone. That made me mad, and before he could make the call, I shot him.
“Norella screamed. She jumped out of bed, all tangled in the bedclothes. ‘Keep away from me!’ she shouted.
“That made me mad again. I saved her, and she wanted to get away from me. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t hurt her. Of course I wouldn’t. I love her.
“I went to help her. But before I could catch her, she fell and hit her head on the fireplace hearth. She didn’t move. I didn’t know if she was dead or just knocked out.
“I guess I panicked. I grabbed a corner of the sheet and wiped off the rifle. Then I saw what Al had dropped. Her necklace. The one she said she lost. He must have found it and was returning it. I picked up the necklace and put it in my pocket. I ran out.
“I got scared and pawned the necklace. Then I went back the next day and took it back. I had to have something of hers. I loved her.
“It all seems like a dream now. That’s why I had to write it down.”
Still clutching the note, Rory sat back. “It’s signed ‘Cal Trenton.’ And you found this with the necklace. I—This is so hard to believe.” He looked at her, his eyes bleak.
“I know, but, yes, I found both hidden in Cal’s cuff-link box. Lacey held out the necklace, which had been lying in her lap.”
Rory took the jewelry and held it up. The gold setting and purple stones glistened in the sunlight. “This is an impressive pi
ece, and it looks like the drawing you made. But are you sure it’s your mother’s?”
“I’m positive.”
“Cora doesn’t know about the necklace or the note. If she did, she’d have destroyed them.”
“Right. She never would have brought them to the museum.”
Rory turned to her, his eyes shining now. “This is the evidence you’ve been looking for. Not just the necklace, but a confession, too. What a find.”
Lacey nodded. “I guess.”
“Lacey, what’s the matter? I’d think you’d be shouting for joy. You’re going to take them both to the police, of course. Want me to go with you?” He handed her the necklace.
Lacey fingered the stones, idly watching the river flowing past. The water breaking over the rocks sent silver droplets floating into the air. “I don’t know what to do.”
“What?” Rory sat upright. “Why not?”
“Like Cora said, they’re all dead now. And the Trentons have done a lot for the town. Built buildings, given the wing to the museum, scholarships to the junior college. Okay, she’s pompous and overbearing, but, still… Do I want to ruin all the good the family has done?”
Rory nodded solemnly. “I see what you mean. But the truth is important, too, Lacey. I have to admit I’m in a bit of a shock after believing all these years that your father killed mine—” He puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. “But now that we know the true killer’s identity, don’t you think the world should know? Set the record straight?”
Lacey ran a hand over her forehead. “I’m so confused right now.”
“Think about it for a while. You don’t have to decide today. But I want you to know that I’ll go along with whatever you decide.”
“Even if it means people will never know your father’s true killer?”
“Yes. Since you’ve come back this time, I’ve changed my thinking about a lot of things.”
*
LACEY DROVE THROUGH the gates to the Restlawn Cemetery and followed the familiar route to her mother’s and her grandfather’s graves. She parked, took the tub of flowers from the floor of the front seat and walked across a freshly mowed lawn to the familiar markers.
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