Anyway, I remember seeing the journal among the books, even though I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was just another old book. I don’t think any of my relatives knew, either. When I saw it at the bookstore, I lost my head. It seemed to me that it was personal property that belonged to the family. When I skimmed it and read the true story of what happened at the flood all those years ago, I also panicked. All I could think of was that they would pull down the statue of Matthew Wilkes in front of City Hall. As I am named for him, I felt like I would be disgraced as well.
I read the letter you wrote to my family. I’m sorry you felt so badly about letting the truth be known. I feel it was my fault, because my bad reaction to finding the book must have made you think my whole family would react the same way. And they didn’t. They were surprised and unhappy that the wrong story had been perpetuated for so long, but they all agreed that to try to cover it up would be the worst thing they could do. They’ve been talking to the museum about some kind of joint statement they can make about the whole thing.
I just wanted to write to you and tell you not to feel bad anymore. I really did enjoy your class, and I hope I can take another class from you some time.
Sincerely,
Matt Wilkes
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: Sorry
Dear Matt,
Thank you so much for your email. It relieved my mind a good deal, and I am thankful your family is choosing to be open about everything. I enjoyed having you as a student in my class, and I do hope you will be in another class of mine sometime.
By the way, you don’t happen to know which expert it was that assessed your great-grandfather’s books and when exactly that was? It might be very important, and I would be very grateful if you can find out.
Sincerely,
Professor Peters
It was a very long shot, but I wondered if that mysterious professor from sometime in the misty past had, while alone with old Mr.Wilkes’ books, taken the opportunity to abstract the flyleaf of The Collected Wit and Ballads of the Peasants of Many Lands.
Chapter 16
On Saturday morning, just after I’d finished breakfast, my phone rang.
“Hi Katrina, it’s Kim. You want to come and meet our new baby?”
“Your what?”
“Baby. It was an emergency placement last night. He’s the sweetest thing—two weeks old and just gorgeous.”
“I’ll be right there.” Kim knows how much I love babies.
He was absolutely adorable. Skin the color of a latte, eyes like chocolate chips and hair that was just beginning to curl. He slept in my arms peacefully while Kim and I chatted.
“His name is Amos. At least, that’s the name he’s going by right now. He was found outside a hospital in a cardboard box.”
“Ugh,” I said. “Unbelievable.”
“Well, it’s not as bad as you might think,” Kim said. “For one thing, he was put in a place where he would get help and be found quickly. For another thing, he was well taken care of, and there were no drugs in his system. His birthmother may have just felt she couldn’t take care of him and had her own reasons for not going through regular adoption channels. But he wasn’t abandoned in one of those sickening ways that makes your stomach churn.”
“Like in a dumpster or something,” I said.
“Yeah. They’ll see if they can trace his mother or any other family; she might just need some support. But until then, we get to care for him.”
“Lucky you,” I said, and I meant it. “How do the other kids like him?”
“They’re pretty excited about him, all except Mia. I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t want to share the spotlight or she feels threatened or jealous or what, but she’s definitely unhappy.”
“I saw her playing out front with another little girl when I came up to the house.”
“Yes, thank goodness her friend came over and wanted to play. It’s distracted her from Amos being here.”
“Well, I’m happy to hold him if you want to do something with her.”
“Actually, if you don’t mind holding him for a while, I’d like to start prepping some food for tonight’s dinner. It’s one of those recipes where there are a million things to chop up. He’ll actually probably wake up and want to eat soon.”
“No problem,” I said.
Kim got to work in the kitchen while I dared to imagine myself as this little one’s foster mother. Or even his adoptive mother. If Amos’s birthmother couldn’t be found, he would be able to be adopted by his foster parents. There might be another little one in the same situation for me to take care of someday.
My phone rang. I fished it out of my purse with one hand.
“Hello?”
“Hi Katrina, it’s Todd.”
“Oh, hi. Anything new?”
“There is, actually, and I was hoping to talk to you about it.”
“No problem. I’ve got time. Go ahead.”
“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you in person.”
“Oh! That’s fine too, but I’m not home right now. I’m at the Coles’ house.”
“Would it be all right if I went there? This is rather important.”
“Sure. Do you need the address?”
“No, I know where it is. I’ll be there soon.”
“Hey, Kim, we’re about to receive a visit from Todd,” I said when I’d hung up. “I hope that’s ok.”
“Of course. Always happy to play chaperone,” she said.
“It’s about the case, my dear friend. No chaperones needed.”
“Case, shmase,” she retorted. “Your head is in the sand.”
I was getting a little tired of everyone but Todd himself telling me that he was interested in me. Baby Amos stirred in my arms. I couldn’t resist kissing his soft little forehead. His eyes opened at that.
“Amos is awake,” I informed Kim.
“Oh, then I’ll get his bottle ready,” she said. “He hasn’t eaten for three hours, and he’ll probably want food.” He was getting fussy by the time the bottle was prepared, and Kim let me feed him. He took a good four ounces of formula before he refused to take more, and just as I was burping him, the doorbell rang.
It was Todd, of course. Kim let him in and directed him to the family room where I was congratulating Amos on a nice loud burp.
“Hi Todd,” I said.
“Who’s this?
“This is the Coles’ newest foster baby,” I said.
“Hey there, Buddy,” said Todd. “You sure are cute.”
“I can take him now,” said Kim, “so you guys can talk. Ben, can you please go get Sam and tell him that Molly needs a walk?”
“Is Molly a dog or a child?” asked Todd.
“A dog,” Kim and I said together and then laughed.
“Would you mind if Katrina and I took her for the walk? I think we might have more privacy out of the house.”
“Sure,” said Kim. “I’ll go get the leash.”
“Wow, that’s one big dog,” said Todd when we went into the back yard and the St. Bernard got to her feet to greet us.
“But she’s a sweetheart,” I said, clipping the leash to her collar. “Come on, Molly!”
We went through the gate at the side of the house out to the front sidewalk. I was surprised to see a black and white police car parked on the street.
“My car’s in the shop for something,” Todd explained. “I’m just using the squad car for today.”
“I just hope the neighborhood doesn’t think the Coles are under arrest,” I said, and Todd laughed.
“Maybe I should have parked farther down the street.”
We walked in silence for a minute. It was all very…domestic, that was the word, walking a dog with Todd. But it wasn’t why he was here, of course.
“So, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
“A couple things. The first one is that we found o
ut about the man who bought the Bible from the Bradstreet descendant—the one who found the poem manuscript between the pages.”
“Boyd? The one Otis Glass mentioned?”
“Yes. Phillip Boyd. We had to do a lot of digging, but we finally figured out who he was.”
“And did you talk to him?”
“No. He died about two weeks ago.”
“Of what?”
“Hit and run.”
“No! Really?”
“Really. And if you think it sounds like too much of a coincidence, so do I. I was able to talk to his wife and ask her about why he bought the Bible and a few other books from that auction.”
“He wasn’t a collector?”
“No. His wife says he bought the books as a favor for a friend who didn’t want his name to appear in the auction records. She didn’t know why, and she’s not sure her husband knew, either. This friend had given Boyd the money and told him which books he wanted, and Boyd had done the buying.”
“That sounds suspicious,” I put in.
“It’s even more suspicious when you find out that Boyd and his friend found the manuscript poem in the Bible together and Boyd had thought it was lucky that his friend knew a lot about old books and could authenticate it.”
I stopped walking. “Professor Weatherill?”
Todd nodded. “Phillip told his wife that he’d wondered if everything was above board. He thought it was odd that after the manuscript was discovered, his friend wanted him to appear as the seller to some book collector, instead of selling it on under his own name. But when other experts had looked at it too, and thought that it was genuine, he decided he must have been wrong. That was all she knew about it.”
Molly began tugging on the leash, and I started moving again.
“How did he know Weatherill?”
“He was Weatherill’s accountant before he—Boyd, I mean—moved to Oregon. The Bradstreet descendant lived in Oregon too, and Weatherill used to visit him. When the descendant died and the library was put up for auction, he must have recalled that Boyd lived near Eugene and asked him to buy the books on his behalf.”
“But it’s unbelievable!” I said. “I know him! He’s so well respected and knows so much…”
“He would have a very good motive for trying to cover it up. He would lose prestige and credibility—I’m guessing his whole career would be gone. Isn’t that what happened to the man you were talking about at the book club? The guy in England who forged a bunch of booklets?”
“Thomas J. Wise, yes. But he forged a lot of books.”
“Weatherill might have done that, too. And he was evidently a lot more careful than Wise was.”
I plodded on thoughtfully behind Molly. “It makes sense, I suppose. And Frank did send that email to him, telling him he thought he’d spotted a forgery. With Frank’s store right next to the college, he probably guessed what forgery he was talking about.”
Todd nodded. “And he decided Frank posed too much danger to be left alive.”
“So are you going to arrest him?”
“We need to get some evidence. Right now it’s all circumstantial. We might have enough to convict him of the original forgery, but even there we don’t have any evidence that he ever came in contact with the water-stained book.”
“You might. I got an email from Matt Wilkes, mostly apologizing for his behavior. But he also mentioned that some expert, years ago, had taken three days to catalog and assess his great-grandfather’s library. It was a point of pride for the old man, even though he apparently never read the books. I asked him if he could find out who that expert was. He hasn’t responded yet, but I thought there might be a chance.”
“Good. Very good, in fact. There’s still nothing to tie him to any murders, but it’s enough for us to justify keeping an eye on him and investigating him further.”
“I suppose it’s harder since he lives in Oregon. Different police departments and stuff.”
“Exactly.”
I grinned. “Well, I’m off school for the summer. I could tail him for you, if you like…”
This time it was Todd who stopped walking. “That’s not even funny, Katrina.” His voice was serious, reproving.
“Sorry,” I said, abashed. “I was just kidding. I know I’d make a mess of it, with no training or anything.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I was completely lost.
“The thought of you out there, unprotected, trying to follow a killer around—” He broke off and ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to come out this way.”
“What wasn’t? What way?”
“I need to spell it out, do I?”
I think I nodded, but I’m not sure. I might have just stood there looking stupid. At any rate, he went on.
“I’ve been in love with you for weeks. You must have figured that out.”
The shock of this announcement took my breath away. After a moment I recovered my wits enough to say, “Kim and Becky thought so, but I wasn’t sure. You didn’t say anything to me about it.” Molly sat down, having apparently decided it was useless to pull on the leash anymore.
“I knew I couldn’t talk to you about it until you knew I was divorced—full disclosure, and all that. And when I did tell you, I saw your face.” He’d been looking at the ground, but he looked up then. “You looked horrified.”
I started to feel a little sick. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know…”
He grabbed my hand. “No, don’t feel that way. I didn’t blame you. I just thought it was hopeless. I tried to stop caring, and I almost managed it until you popped up again when the manuscript was stolen.”
“That’s why you were so distant at first!”
“I tried to be. But you were just too adorable. I felt myself falling even more for you. But then you told me that you might go be a missionary.” He gripped my hand more firmly. “Look, I don’t want to get in the way if God wants you to go to teach at a mission school. And if you’re interested in this guy Jason, I don’t want to get in the way of that, either.” He stopped and shook his head. “That’s not quite honest. What I want is for you to stay here and be interested in me. But even if your life is going to go in another direction, at least you should know what I’m thinking. It was probably pretty obvious that I liked you—it must have been if your friends noticed—and I was beginning to be afraid you would think I was only flirting with you. I almost told you several times, and I should have. I just kept hoping that if we had more time to get to know each other, you’d be more likely to say yes.”
He noticed just then that he was still gripping my hand, and he gently let it go.
“I knew there were tons of reasons you might not be interested in me. I’m divorced—I don’t seem to be able to solve any crimes at all—there was another man who was asking you out—you might be called to be a missionary…When I thought about it like that, I couldn’t believe you’d be willing to take a chance on me. But then when we were together, you were so friendly that I began to hope you might.”
“God has been working on my heart,” I said. “My prejudices against second attachments—” I almost made allusion to Marianne Dashwood discovering the falsehood of her own opinions here but stopped myself just in time. It was a good thing, too, because I wouldn’t have had time to explain it. Almost as soon as I had stopped talking, we were aware of a Suburban speeding down the road. As it neared us, it slowed down, and I could see that Ed was driving it.
“Hey!” he said, and he looked panicked. “Have you seen Mia?”
“Not recently,” I said. “When I came to your house first she was playing outside.”
“No one’s seen her since,” said Ed. “It’s not like her to run off.”
“No, it’s not,” I agreed. Ben was the one who liked to run. Mia was extremely attached to her foster family. It was even hard for them to get her to go to school sometimes.
“Kim’s afraid the
birthmother may have done something. I don’t think it’s likely, but we still can’t find her.”
“Oh no!” I said. “Todd, Mia’s birthmother made a big scene last week when they had a meeting, saying nothing could keep her from her daughter and that she was going to take her back. She’s not stable at all!”
“I’ll make a call,” said Todd. “We’ll start searching.”
“Her mother just got out of prison,” I said. “Would she have a parole officer?”
“It depends,” said Todd, “But if her daughter is in foster care, it shouldn’t be too hard to find out where she lives. Same agency as the one we helped at the Fun Day for?”
“Yeah,” said Ed. “You want to drive back to the house with me?”
“Good idea,” said Todd. “You ok to walk back with the dog, Katrina?”
“Sure,” I said. “I might just walk around nearby to see if I see her. It doesn’t seem likely, but she may have wandered off or followed a stray cat or something.”
“Ok,” said Ed. Todd got into the car and they drove off.
I continued down the road with Molly, calling for Mia. I tried not to give way to alarm. Most kids have been “lost” at one time or another, only to be found shortly afterwards in some unexpected place. Don’t panic, I kept telling myself. Just pray. I couldn’t remember praying for anything so fervently in my entire life.
There were a few people out and about on the street—kids riding bikes, adults washing cars. I asked everyone I passed if they’d seen a little girl with dark hair come that way. No one had. Molly was beginning to slow down, and I found myself tugging on the leash to get her to walk faster.
I was just wondering if I should turn around and go back or try a different street when I saw the remains of a garage sale. It was early afternoon now, and they looked like they were deciding if they should start clearing up. I hurried over.
“Excuse me,” I said to the couple who looked to be about my age. “Did you see a little girl go by—little girl with brown hair, about five years old? It might have been a while ago.”
Brought to Book Page 19