Mary shook her head, her green eyes glittering with enthusiasm. “Not since I found the letter written to my grandfather.”
“You found an old letter?” Peppa’s interest had been sparked, and Edna remembered Tuck mentioning that the librarian was an avid student of local history and folklore.
“Yup,” Mary nodded. “In a book of my grandpa’s.”
“I love reading old letters,” Peppa said, leaning forward to rest clasped hands on the table. “What does yours say? Did you bring it with you?”
Mary shook her head. “It’s too brittle and a piece is missing. It’s tearing at the fold, so I put it back in the book.”
Hiding a smile behind her napkin as she dabbed at her mouth, Edna thought Mary might also be dangling it to entice them all to her house so she could persuade them to help her hunt down this phantom of hers.
“What’s it about, this letter you found?” The new topic had obviously brought Peppa out of the doldrums.
“Like I said, it was written to my grandfather. There’s a piece missing, and the ink is smudged in one spot. Looks like something spilled on it, but the gist is still there. What I make out is that it introduced a man named Sam Hopkins and asked Grandpa to hide him if he ever showed up on the doorstep. Seems Sam was the son of the reverend who wrote to Grandpa. Because of his smuggling activities--which, apparently, were okay with his reverent papa--Sam was hiding from organized crime bosses as well as revenuers. He had to stay away from the family home in Newport.”
Peppa nodded. “Many church elders felt the law to ban alcohol was both un-American and un-Christian. Makes sense. Rhode Island and Connecticut were the only two states not to ratify the Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution. Rhode Island was about the most anti-prohibition state in the country.” Her expression became sad and thoughtful, making Edna wonder if Peppa were thinking of Clem and his problem with alcohol.
“I heard that, too,” Tuck spoke into the silence when Peppa didn’t go on. “Rhode Island’s four hundred miles of coastline with hundreds of inlets, coves and small islands has always been a smuggler’s paradise. During the Roaring Twenties, local rumrunners went all the way to Canada to get hard liquor--what they called ‘the real stuff,” while revenuers in other states contended only with mere beer and bathtub-gin bootleggers.”
Mary nodded, clearly enjoying the response her story was generating. “Grandpa had a walking stick with a glass tube in the center. Father once told me that Grandpa called it his lemonade cane and carried it whenever he went anywhere with his gentlemen friends.”
Peppa seemed to revive slightly as she smiled at Mary’s memory. “Do you still have the cane?”
“Sure do. It’s in the umbrella stand by the front door. I’ll show it to you. The letter, too,” Mary said, pushing her chair back from the table.
“Wait,” Edna said, laying a restraining hand on Mary’s forearm before she could rise. “What makes you think this Sam what’s-his-name is your ghost?”
Mary’s eyes sparkled. “I think the smudge on the letter is blood. I bet he was hurt and came to Grandpa for help.”
“Would your grandfather have put the rest of his family in jeopardy by harboring a fugitive?” Tuck asked with a shiver. “I wouldn’t have wanted to mess with the mob, back then. I remember reading about Frank Morelli and Raymond Patriarca and some of the other local gangsters from the Roaring Twenties. From what I’ve read, they were mean and dangerous.”
Seeming happy to explain her theory further while excusing her grandfather of any thoughtlessness on his part, Mary said, “The house was built with hidey-holes when it was a depot on the Underground Railroad.” She glanced up at the kitchen clock and her face fell. “I’m gonna be late for my shift.” Edna could almost see the plan forming in her neighbor’s mind when Mary paused briefly. “Will you come to my house tonight, Peppa?” she said, sliding a quick glance at Edna. “I can show you Grandpa’s cane and the false chimney and maybe we might even see my ghost.”
Edna was certain Mary was inviting Peppa so that Edna would join them in a late-night mystical adventure.
Chapter 21
As her breakfast guests drove away, Edna mused over what she’d just gotten roped into. Peppa had agreed to be at Mary’s house about the time the late-night news aired. Tuck had been so pleased that Peppa was acting like her old self, that she, too, said she would join them. Edna, feeling it would be a dubious but fun escapade, declared she wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Needing to get on with her day, she put aside thoughts of the evening ahead and went to her office to check for e-mail messages. As she was waiting for the computer to boot up, she realized she hadn’t had a chance to ask Peppa about her comment that Clem wouldn’t have taken digitalis. What would have made her so certain when she hadn’t seen him in over five years?
Finding nothing of particular interest in her mailbox, she turned to her notes on the investigation into the death of Gregory Haverstrum. Am I getting anywhere? Flipping through the pages of the notebook she pulled from her tote bag, she scanned what she had written. Plenty of questions, but what did she actually know?
I am quite certain that Gregory was poisoned by the toxin produced by the Christmas Rose. It would account for the strange burning around his mouth. The poison probably dissipated in the body, but symptoms remained.
Turning to a clean page in the book, she began to jot down what details she knew about the case. If he had been poisoned, then logic told her the murderer had to have been one of the visitors to his apartment the day he died. Listing their names, she realized the only person with whom she hadn’t yet spoken was Bobbi Callahan.
Edna was determined to make some headway with her investigation before the sun set that day. She’d wasted enough time. Friday was Valentine’s Day. Albert, Matthew and the Marlstone men would be flying home that afternoon, and she figured that would be a good time to call it quits. With that thought, she wondered if she were simply frustrated over what she felt was spinning her wheels. Disturbed as she was about the plight of Rosie and her daughter, Edna could do only so much to help, but could she stop nosing around while there were still so many unanswered questions? At that moment, she felt again the angst of being the prime suspect in another person’s murder and the shame of being shunned not only by neighbors but also by those she’d considered friends. The urge to assist the Becks resurfaced with a sharpness that stunned her.
With renewed energy, she reviewed her notes in an attempt to locate Bobbi Callahan. Edna recalled that one of the stories mentioned the young woman moving back into her parents’ home at the start of the initial investigation. Reporters had prowled the campus looking for her, hanging out around the dorm and library, disturbing her sleep, her study time, and her social life.
Since the Callahans’ house was Bobbi’s last reported residence, Edna decided that was as good a place as any to start tracking down the young woman who had been Gregory’s personal assistant and suspected lover. First, Edna needed to come up with a plausible reason for wanting to locate the graduating student. She doubted either parent would give their daughter’s whereabouts away just for the asking. Pulling up the LinkedIn information Bobbi had posted, Edna learned about her interest in child psychology and her plans to continue graduate studies in the field while she worked as an elementary school teacher. An idea struck Edna as soon as she noted that one of Bobbi’s undergraduate papers had been published a year before, a singular achievement for the young woman. The subject of the piece was the psychological impact of peer-group rejection on adolescents.
Perfect, Edna thought, amazed at the coincidence. Excitedly optimistic, she used the Google search engine to find a local address and phone number for Duke and Louise Callahan with “other relatives” listed as Bobbi Jean. Edna’s call was picked up on the fourth ring by a woman announcing herself.
“This is Louise Callahan.” The voice held a pleasant confidence.
“Mrs. Callahan, my name is Edna Davies. I’d
like to speak with your daughter, if she’s available.” Edna thought she might as well try a direct approach and avoid any dissembling, if possible.
Louise’s tone turned cool and wary when she said, “May I know what this is about?”
Edna sighed inwardly. She hadn’t wanted to mislead, but she was ready with her excuse. When she spoke, she thought she sounded firm and professional. “I have friends at the university …” Not a lie, thought Edna. “and I understand that Bobbi has earned honors in the child psychology department.” Another truth, although it was something Edna had recently read in the LinkedIn blurb, not from a college connection. Using the key component she’d learned from Bobbi’s posting, Edna went on. “I understand that your daughter has done research on the effects of rejection on children. It is on that subject I wish to consult with your daughter.”
Sounding more receptive, Louise said, “Oh, yes. Have you read her paper? Are you a child psychologist yourself?”
Edna felt a mother who had raised four children would probably qualify as such, but said, “No. I’m mainly concerned with the problems of a particular nine-year-old girl. I believe Bobbi has the necessary experience to assist me.” True enough, Edna assured herself. She hoped a mother’s pride would take over and Louise would be only too happy to promote her daughter’s talents and interests.
“Well,” said the woman on the other end of the line, sounding almost enthusiastic. Edna’s heart leapt for an instant before Louise continued. “I’ll give her your message. If you leave your number, I can have her call you.”
“It’s important that I speak with her as soon as possible. Is she at home? May I drop by sometime today? Any time. I don’t think it will take long, but I’d rather not discuss the matter over the phone.”
There was silence on the line for several seconds before Louise said, “Hold a moment, please.”
Nearly five minutes later, she was back. “How soon can you be here? Bobbi has to leave for campus in an hour, but if you can arrive before then, she’ll be glad to help in whatever way she can.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Donning her green tweed winter coat, Edna set off and was parked on the street in front of the Callahan house in a quarter of an hour. The structure was of fairly modern design compared to many other homes in the area, and sat on about three acres of land. Edna thought the building was probably no more than twenty years old. As she walked up the slightly winding cement path to the front door, she noticed that the expansive front lawn was well tended. The snow had melted enough on this southern exposure to reveal wide flower borders spread with straw beneath the large windows of what Edna thought might be a warm and bright living room.
The front door was a heavy wooden affair with an ornate stained-glass window set into the top half. Louise Callahan answered the chiming doorbell almost at once. An attractive platinum blonde in her early fifties, she greeted Edna politely.
“Good morning, Mrs. Davies.”
“Edna. Please call me Edna.”
“And I’m Louise,” the woman replied, taking Edna’s proffered hand briefly with a firm grasp of her own. “Won’t you come in? Bobbi will be down in a few minutes. A friend is calling for her, so I’m afraid she can’t spare much time this morning, but you did say it was urgent.”
Louise Callahan was such a pleasant and seemingly naïve woman that Edna felt her stomach begin to roil at the thought of deceiving her. Edna made up her mind that, come what may, she’d lay her cards on the table.
Following the woman into a room to the left of the entryway, Edna saw with pleasure that she’d been correct about the front room being sunny and warm. It was larger than she’d expected. The house must extend quite a way to the back, she thought, spying an almost equally large dining room beyond the living area. A few inches of pine were visible from double doors that slid into the wall either side of the opening between the two rooms. The décor confirmed in Edna’s mind Duke Callahan’s reputation as a wealthy entrepreneur.
Someone in the family obviously enjoyed flowers, too. Two dozen red roses sat in a vase on a side table and three purple orchids floated in a crystal bowl on the low table in front of a chintz-covered sofa. Edna could see another vase of mixed blooms on the long mahogany dining table that was surrounded by twelve matching chairs. What she could see of the house was elegant but homey. She felt comfortable and welcomed as Louise asked for her coat.
“You have a lovely home,” Edna said, handing the woman the tweed garment. She declined the offer of something to drink, feeling doubly guilty at Louise’s hospitality.
As Edna took a seat on the sofa, a young woman hurried into the room. She wore gray woolen slacks with a blue sweater. Her hair was pulled back and tied with a patterned silk scarf at the nape of her neck. With her blondeness and dark brown eyes, she looked as Louise must have, thirty years earlier. There could be no mistaking the relationship between these two.
“Mrs. Davies?” Bobbi came forward, offering her hand. Even her voice was much like her mother’s. “I’m Bobbi Callahan. Mother said you think I can help you with a problem.” She backed up to sit on the broad arm of the overstuffed chair her mother had taken across the low table from Edna. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time. My ride to school will be here soon, but if you can give me a brief synopsis of the issue, I’ll try to be of some assistance.”
Edna would have smiled at the student’s obvious academic vocabulary, if she hadn’t been worried over how the two Callahan women would take her next words. She cleared her throat, knowing the dryness to be a sign of how nervous she was, took a deep breath and confessed. “The child I’m concerned about is Lettie Beck.” Edna paused, realizing she still didn’t know which name Rosie used for her daughter. “Or, Violet Haverstrum, as you may have known her.” Noticing the shock on both women’s faces and Louise leaning forward about to rise, Edna rushed on. “There really is a problem. Please hear me out.”
As she described the plight of Gregory Haverstrum’s wife and daughter, she saw the Callahan women’s expressions change from anger to interest. Bobbi seemed to be slightly sympathetic, but only slightly. It was when Edna explained how she’d gotten involved through her daughter-in-law and granddaughter and how Amanda had befriended Lettie that she saw actual sadness and compassion appear on Bobbi’s face.
When Edna ended by explaining how she’d come to the certainty that Gregory had ingested ranunculin, a plant-based poison, Louise interrupted her.
“What does this have to do with my daughter? You said she could help you, but what I’m hearing sounds like an accusation.”
Still perched on the arm of her mother’s chair, Bobbi put a hand on Louise’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Mother. I think Mrs. Davies has good reason to be worried about how these unresolved questions are and will be affecting Gregory’s little girl.” Bobbi turned her eyes back to Edna. “I met Gregory’s daughter on several occasions during the time I worked for him, but they were only brief encounters. I didn’t know her well, but please go on. I’m still unclear as to how I might be of any help.”
“You were at Gregory Haverstrum’s condominium the afternoon of the day he was believed to have died. Is that right?” At Bobbi’s nod of assent, Edna began her questions about the food she’d brought, the condition of the kitchen, the man’s appearance and behavior. Bobbi’s answers didn’t seem out of the ordinary until Edna asked, “Did you see or speak to anyone besides Gregory himself?”
“Yes,” Bobbi responded as if it were nothing unusual. “His wife was coming into the building as I was going out. We didn’t speak, just nodded to each other.” Bobbi made a wry face. “She didn’t like me.” Bobbi must have realized that Edna knew Gregory had more than a passing interest in his young assistant because she rushed to explain. “It wasn’t like I broke up her marriage. They were already separated, and she’d filed for divorce before I went to work for Gregory.” For the first time, Bobbi fidgeted, picking at the fabric of her slacks. “The reporters made
our relationship sound like one big sex scandal, but that wasn’t true.” Her large, brown eyes pleaded with Edna to believe her. “I was never intimate with Gregory. He was like a big brother. We were friends, is all.” As she defended herself, she was sounding less like an academician and more like an emotional teenager.
Not unsympathetic with the upbraiding the young woman must have endured, still Edna wasn’t interested in the details of the relationship between boss and assistant. She redirected the conversation. “I understand that several people brought food to Gregory. Was Rosie carrying anything when you saw her that afternoon?”
Bobbi shook her head. “She wasn’t, or if she was, I didn’t see it. I remember because I was asked that question more than once. The police and then the lawyers asked me what I brought with me and if I’d seen anyone else bringing something into Gregory’s home. The only person I saw was Mrs. Haverstrum and she wasn’t carrying anything but her purse.”
At that moment, a car horn sounded. Bobbi stood and turned to look out toward the street. Edna had a clear view from the sofa and noticed a small, red coup pulling up behind her Buick. When Bobbi approached the wide windows and waved, the driver waved back.
As she headed to the front hall, she apologized. “I’m sorry, but I have to go or Kisha and I will both be late for class. I don’t think I’ve been much help, but I really don’t know what else I can tell you.”
Edna was discouraged at learning little more than she already knew, but stood to shake the young woman’s hand. “You’ve been very kind and patient with me. Thank you for your time.” She added with a smile, “And good luck with your career.”
Once Bobbi disappeared from the room, Edna returned to the sofa for her tote bag. Louise was standing, obviously waiting to escort Edna to the door, when a question popped out of Edna’s mouth, completely unexpected. Later, she was to wonder what made her ask.
Murder by Arrangement (Edna Davies mysteries Book 5) Page 15