Elizabeth nodded. “I felt sorry for what happened to them.” She shivered at the memory of the two dead men in the stage with her, one with his neck broken, the other with an ugly hole in his head. “And for the men who were riding in the stage with me.”
The doctor went out, and Elizabeth winced when she rose to go into the spare room. She passed Mitch’s cot, stopped, and stared at him for a moment. Don’t you die on me, she thought. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out why she cared. He looked so peaceful lying there asleep, such a contrast to the man who’d shot down three outlaws earlier in the day. What made him so ruthless?
She walked into the spare room and sat down on a cot, then realized she still clung to her handbag. She was alone now. She opened the handbag to reach inside, taking out the magnificently jeweled necklace she was determined to keep and protect forever. She studied the exquisite perfection of the design and the glittering jewels. “Oh, Mother, was I crazy to come here? What am I going to do with my life now? I feel so alone.”
She put the necklace back into her handbag and brushed away tears. Outside, the streets remained alive with shouts and piano music…women laughing, and horses and wagons clattering back and forth…all strangers who knew little about each other. She thought about her grandmother, who came to America from England so many years ago, scared and alone. It must have been like this for her, everything strange and frightening, but she was strong and she’d survived. I can do the same.
After all, she might have led a pampered life the last few years, but it wasn’t always that way. She darn well knew how to live the life of a working woman if necessary, thanks to her mother. And she was well educated. Perhaps, just as she’d told those miners on the stagecoach, she really could get some kind of teaching job here in Alder…if indeed there were any small children about. She realized that wasn’t too likely, but she would inquire. If she couldn’t teach, she’d find something else to do…certainly something that did not require wearing skimpy clothing and cavorting with men! Her horrifying experience with just one man back in New York had convinced her none of them could be trusted, and she damn well wasn’t about to let any man touch her…ever again.
Five
Alan Radcliffe paced the polished oak floor of his smoking room, his mansion of a home seeming much too empty now that his wife was dead and his stepdaughter gone. He lit yet another cigar, angry that it was taking his good friend Prosecutor Gerald Hayes so long to get here. He had to act quickly, make sure no one knew the truth about his wife’s death. He wished he knew exactly what Emma had planned, where she’d gone.
He should have acted sooner, gotten Emma thrown in prison before she had a chance to leave. If only he could have learned from her or her mother where the damn necklace was, a lot of his headaches would have been avoided. Now he was left looking for a way to keep his name clear and still find Emma. Once he did, there would be ways to make her talk. Maybe she would tell him where the necklace was if he could promise to keep her from spending the rest of her life in prison, although she damn well deserved it!
He walked over to a large mirror hanging on one wall between two potted palms. Leaning closer, he adjusted his tie and smoothed back his thick, dark hair, thinking how distinguished he looked with a touch of white at the temples. The women thought him quite handsome, and he was proud of the fact that age had seemed only to improve his looks. He admired his tall and still well-built physique. He smoothed his velvet lounge jacket, glad he didn’t have the potbelly most older men developed. It seemed that older, handsome, well-dressed men with money were always attractive to women, even younger ones.
“Except for Emma…the little bitch,” he grumbled, turning away. If things had worked out differently, he could have made a wonderful life for her.
Finally someone thumped the heavy knocker at the front door.
“It’s about time.” He took a deep breath against a bit of nervousness, then walked around to sit down behind his grand mahogany desk, waiting for the maid to answer the door. He set the cigar into an ashtray, listening to the distant voices and footsteps. In a twenty-room mansion it took a while for a visitor to make it to one of the back rooms. He thought about how all the bedrooms upstairs were empty now, except his own. He couldn’t bring another woman into the house until he waited a proper time after his wife’s death. It irked him that he had to wait, and he decided he would find a way to sneak some young wench into his bedroom without anyone knowing. There were plenty of women who would accept pay for giving him pleasure.
The huge oak door opened, and his maid ushered Gerald Hayes inside.
“Mr. Hayes to see you, Mr. Radcliffe,” she said with a slight nod.
“Thank you, Bess.”
The young woman quickly left the room and closed the door behind her.
“Gerald!” Alan rose and walked around his desk, towering over Hayes as he reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Glad you finally got here. I was afraid perhaps you’d forgotten our appointment.”
Gerald removed his hat and shook Alan’s hand. “Sorry about that, Alan. A court case I had today took much longer than I thought it would. And since I haven’t seen you since your wife’s death, I’d like to take this moment to extend my sympathy—also my wife’s—over your loss. Sounds like it was a terrible accident.”
“Thank you for your sympathy.” Alan turned and walked back behind his desk, asking Gerald to have a seat opposite him. “But that is why I called you here, Gerald. It wasn’t exactly an accident. Some things have been going on here that no one knew about, mainly because I didn’t want to sully my stepdaughter’s reputation. But things have gone too far, and now that Emma’s mother is dead and Emma has run off—”
“Run off?”
Alan nodded. “I feel it’s time you knew the truth. I need your help.”
Gerald frowned, his bushy gray eyebrows nearly covering his eyelids when he did so. His matching gray mustache moved into a crooked dip as he pursed his lips in concern. He settled into a plush red leather chair and tossed his hat onto the seat of the chair beside him. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Deep concern and feigned sorrow moved into Alan’s dark eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and looked steadily into Gerald’s eyes, determined to be as persuasive as possible, giving a deep sigh before continuing.
“It was more of a murder, Gerald.”
Gerald’s eyebrows shot up in the other direction this time. “More of a murder?” He let out a gasp of exasperation. “Alan, murder is murder. There is no more or less about it!”
“Well, let’s just say second-degree murder, somewhat intended but only at the last minute, not planned.”
Gerald leaned back, shaking his head. “I’m afraid you’d better explain yourself, Alan. Are you saying you—”
“No!” Alan interrupted. “Not me! It was Emma.”
Gerald straightened again. “Emma!” He rose, walking around behind the chair. “Alan, get to the heart of the story!”
Alan leaned back, rubbing his forehead. “Emma’s gone, Gerald. She ran away to escape the truth before I had her arrested.”
Color came into the prosecutor’s cheeks. “For killing her own mother?”
Alan closed his eyes. “I know it sounds impossible, but it’s true. Like I said, things have been going on here that no one knew about, Gerald. I’ve fought coming out with this story, wanting to protect Emma while at the same time wanting to see her put away for what she did. I loved her mother, very much, and I always loved Emma as any man would love his daughter… Stepdaughter in this case, but still like a daughter to me. She was, after all, my brother’s offspring, and when he died I hoped to take his place in her life when I married her mother.”
Alan turned his chair around so that Gerald could not see his face as he continued his story. “But when Emma turned sixteen two years ago, she began having…
womanly feelings toward me. I assure you, Gerald, that I did nothing to entice her. My God, she was my daughter. I never told her mother about any of it…the times when Emma would deliberately put her hand on my knee…or sinfully flirt with me when her mother wasn’t around. Once she came and sat on my lap in the library…and once she even…” He let out a long sigh. “She even came into my bedroom one night when her mother took that little trip to New England.”
Gerald moved back around the chair to sit down as Radcliffe finally turned to face him again. “It kills me to have to tell you these things, Gerald, but I can’t live with it any longer. The night Mary died…she didn’t just trip and fall down those stairs. Emma pushed her.”
Gerald closed his eyes and shook his head. “I find that hard to believe, Alan.”
“Believe it. She was jealous of Mary…wanted me for herself. She’d come to me more than once asking me to divorce her mother so we could be together. She’s still just a child, Gerald, who fell foolishly in love with her stepfather. You know how some young people can be about crushes. She wasn’t thinking straight, and she was upset at the fact that I constantly turned her away. In her mind it was only because of my loyalty to her mother, and I’m sure she thought that with her mother out of the way, she could have me.”
“Alan, I find this all so hard to fathom.”
“A lot of families keep terrible secrets, Gerald. Mine was one of them. I didn’t want others to know any of this because of the way they would think about young Emma. I didn’t want that for her. I thought she would eventually meet some young man her own age and fall in love and that would be the end of it. But the night of her mother’s death…she’d decided to tell Mary that she was in love with me. She lied and said I loved her, too, and we wanted to be together and that Mary should divorce me. A terrible argument ensued at the top of the stairs. I was in my bedroom changing at the time. I came out just in time to see Emma in a rage. She screamed, ‘Why don’t you just leave him and let me have him? I hate you!’ She pushed at Mary, and Mary tripped and fell down the stairs.”
“My God!”
Alan hung his head. “The worst part was when Emma ran down the stairs to find her mother’s neck was broken. At first she said, ‘Mama, I’m sorry.’ Then she looked up at me—no tears—and said that now we could finally be together. She left her mother and came back up the stairs, pleading with me to tell others it was just an accident and not to say anything about the argument. I’ve wrestled with the truth ever since, and now that Emma has run off, I just can’t handle it any longer.”
Gerald kept shaking his head. “Emma? She and her mother seemed so close. Mary has only been in her grave a month or so.”
“All the more proof of Emma’s guilt. She’s been gone since two days after Mary’s death. I was hoping she would return, which is why I waited to tell you, but it’s obvious she’s not coming back. Why would she have run off if she didn’t have something to hide? What more proof do you need that she committed a crime and is afraid of going to prison?”
“Indeed.” Gerald scrutinized Alan with piercing eyes. “I hope you’re being honest with me, Alan. This is serious.”
“Why would I be anything but honest?”
Gerald sighed. “Because sometimes you try to get favors out of people who owe you gambling money—favors instead of the money. You did it to me just a year or so ago, when you asked me to arrest a man who owed you money and threaten him with prison if he didn’t pay you off. You even threatened once that if I didn’t pay you off, you’d make sure the whole city knew I had a gambling problem.”
“This is different.”
“Is it? I owe you nearly a thousand dollars, Alan. And I know you and your wife were having problems over your drinking and gambling. How did Mary really die?”
Alan’s gaze darkened. “It was just as I told you. Yes, Emma and her mother were very close at one time, when Emma was little. But maturing into a woman did something to her, and her childish love for me turned into something more.”
Alan stood up and walked to a window. “I sometimes wonder if it really was love, or if it was a desperate attempt to make sure she held on to the way of life she’d come to enjoy.” He turned. “After all, Gerald, her mother was once nothing more than a servant to my family, and a bastard child to boot. My parents accepted her marriage to my brother, and eventually she came to be accepted into society’s higher circles; but there was always that underlying gossip that she’d hoodwinked my brother into marriage so she could live like those for whom she’d worked for so many years. Having a daughter that bore our name just sealed her and Emma’s place in the family.”
Gerald’s eyebrows moved upward. “I’m sorry to say my wife and I have thought the same thing at times, but we came to really like Mary and feel she genuinely loved your brother. But I have to say that when she married you, it raised even more questions. After all, your parents could have taken everything from her but the bare minimum for a decent life, although because Emma was their granddaughter, I doubt they would have done that. They were nice people. Of course, now they are both dead and gone, I’m sorry to say, so that gave Mary even more reason to be married to you.”
Alan nodded. “Is it making sense now? Emma might have been thinking the same thing. What would happen to her once her mother was gone? Marrying me would have secured her future. With her mother out of the picture, she could make it all happen—at least that’s what she thought.”
“But surely she knew you couldn’t have married her. It’s incest!”
“For heaven’s sake, Gerald, I wouldn’t have married her! I’m not an animal! I’m just telling you how she was thinking because of her foolish youth and her determination to have me.” Alan rubbed his head in a display of irritation. “She got anxious to make things happen sooner rather than later. She tried to break us up, and then…the accident. When she realized I truly would never marry her or return her affections, she got scared I would tell the truth about what happened, so she ran off.” He shook his head. “I tried to reason with her and told her that I would say it was more accident than deliberate.”
Gerald rose. “Well, accident or not, she probably would go to prison, at least for a few months if nothing more. Of course, it would still be quite a disgrace, and she’d lose her inheritance.” He sighed. “Are you asking me to arrest her?”
Alan rubbed at the back of his neck as though regretting his decision. “I hate doing that to Mary’s daughter, but yes, I think she should be arrested. If you can serve up a warrant, I’ll take care of the rest. I am going to find her for you, Gerald. I have a few ideas about where she might be—maybe at her mother’s friend’s place in New England, maybe at our Florida estate, maybe in some other city. I had a considerable amount of money in one of my drawers. She took it—stole from me—and that must be what she’s living on.”
And she’s got the damn necklace, I’m sure of it, he thought. That alone would keep her just fine for a long, long time. He was not about to tell Gerald about the necklace he’d coveted ever since marrying Mary. He’d never been able to get her to tell him where it was, but Emma damn well knew, he was sure of it. She’d taken it and fled his clutches.
“Well, this is quite some bit of news, Alan.” Gerald picked up his hat. “I can have my own investigators go looking for Emma.”
“No. I don’t want this known to anyone but you and me and whatever judge issues the warrant. Make sure he knows that. I want this kept quiet for as long as possible. I’ll take care of the search. You have enough on your hands, keeping the law in a city the size of New York. Just bring me an extra copy of the warrant so I can have it with me if and when I find her, so I can show it to the law enforcement there and bring her back here with me. I don’t want this to hit the papers until you and I and Emma talk about what should be done about this.” He walked closer. “Do me that favor, will you? After all, you owe me quite a gambling debt, r
emember?”
Gerald grinned in spite of his concern. “I was wondering when you were going to get around to that.”
Alan smiled sadly. “I’ll consider you keeping quiet about this as your payment. I hate to collect this way…hate doing this to Emma…but she’s out there alone somewhere, and I can’t quite forgive her for taking Mary from me in such a violent way. The fact remains that out of jealousy she killed her own mother, intended or unintended. She’s got to be found and made to own up to what she’s done.”
“I agree on that one.” Gerald put his hat on. “Did any of the maids see what happened?”
Alan shook his head. “No. And I don’t want them questioned, at least not until it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Very well.” He reached out and shook Alan’s hand again. “I’ll get the warrant and bring it to you. I’ll leave the rest up to you. I hope you can find her, Alan.”
Alan squeezed the man’s hand, wishing it were Emma’s neck. “I’ll find her, Gerald. You can be sure of that.”
Gerald turned and walked to the door. “I’ll let myself out. And I think I’ll go have a drink somewhere. This is indeed shocking news.” He shook his head. “Shocking.” He left, and Alan walked back to look out the window again at his well-manicured garden behind the mansion.
“Shocking indeed,” he muttered. And little Miss Emma will be shocked when I find her and show her the warrant for her arrest. If that doesn’t scare her into telling me where the necklace is, I guess I’ll just have to let her go to prison, or arrange for her untimely death.
Having that necklace would have gone a long way toward relieving some of his gambling debts. Even the wealthiest man could end up a pauper when he couldn’t control his gambling. It was an addiction he’d fought most of his adult life, and a battle he endlessly lost. It irked him that not being able to have the necklace, which was rightfully his, had meant cutting back on his gambling to make sure he didn’t go bankrupt. Right now he was faced with selling some of his real estate. He’d be fine for a while yet, if he could keep himself from gambling, and if he could find Emma and get his hands on that necklace!
Desperate Hearts Page 4