by Joy Avon
“And why would she even think I had sent you there?” Ace asked, his brows knitting.
Iphy fidgeted with her bracelet. “Because I may have let it slip that Callie was … seeing you. To put a bit of pressure on them.”
Ace tilted his head. “You didn’t,” he said.
“I did.” Iphy sounded small. “It was just because this Sylvia was so smug, acting like nothing could touch her. I guess, in the heat of the moment, things like that slip out. And it’s not a lie.”
Ace shot Callie a look. She hoped he wasn’t going to reveal to her great-aunt here and now that it was over between them. “I’m sorry,” Iphy said in a thin, brittle voice. “I just can’t help thinking Sean will end up in jail and lose everything he has. His reputation, his freedom. I have no idea why he refuses to tell you anything, but there must be a reason for it. Something other than guilt. I can’t work out what it is, but please have a closer look to see if you can find any way to clear him. Please.”
In the bright light of the lamp overhead, she looked very pale and worn, and Callie hoped Ace would see this too and feel forgiving toward her.
Ace released his breath in a huff. Whether it was irritation or resignation was hard to say. “That woman you spoke to—Sylvia—threatened my career?”
“Sylvia acted like if you came after her she would file charges of some sort that you had acted unprofessionally, sending us over to … uh … put pressure on her. That was about the gist of what she said, right, Callie?” Nervously knotting her fingers, Iphy looked at Callie for support.
Callie said, “I guess she felt bad about having told us too much and wanted to ensure we kept it to ourselves.”
“But you aren’t keeping it to yourselves; you’re here now, putting me on the spot.” Ace jumped to his feet and paced the room. “If I do go after her and she makes trouble for me …”
Callie glanced at Iphy. There wasn’t really anything they could say to that.
Iphy asked, “Is Sean all right? Can I see him for a moment? I only want to ask him why he’s not cooperating with you.”
Ace looked her over. Then he said, “I’ll bring him in here, and you can talk with him. In my presence. I’m not letting him slip by me.”
Iphy sat up and nodded eagerly. “I won’t do anything to help him flee, Deputy. Honestly.”
Ace looked at Callie as if to find some truth about this statement in her eyes. Then he left the room.
Her heart pounding, Callie slipped to the edge of her seat and said, “You aren’t going to help him escape, are you?” Normally, she wouldn’t have expected anything like that from her great-aunt, but Iphy wasn’t herself these days.
“Of course not. Then he would be on the run, wanted. That would only make it worse for him.”
Callie tilted her head and studied her great-aunt closely. She wasn’t entirely sure she could believe her. After all, Ace had agreed to keep Strong out of jail until the next morning, but after that, all bets were off. What if Iphy believed she had to somehow prevent Strong from ending up behind bars? It would be a disastrous action, which wouldn’t only hurt Strong’s case but also get Iphy in trouble with the law.
Footsteps approached and the door opened. Ace let in Sean Strong. He was dressed in a dark sweater and black pants, and looked like he had been awoken from a nap. He stood there quietly, watching Iphy. She got to her feet and seemed to want to rush over to him, but he made a gesture to stop her. “I’m not happy to see you. You shouldn’t have come here to bother the deputy. Iphy, please, just leave this to my lawyer.”
Iphy winced at the word bother. “I have information that can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” Strong looked at Ace. “Take me back to the cell.”
“These ladies have gone through a lot of trouble for you,” Ace said. “I think you can at least have the decency to speak with them for a few minutes.”
Strong exhaled in a huff. “I don’t have to speak with anyone. Not with you either.” He glared at Iphy. “You have no idea what’s at stake here.”
“Don’t I? You’re accused of murder. You’ll be transferred to prison soon. You’ll be locked up with real criminals. Even though you are innocent. I will do anything to prove that. Even put myself in danger.”
There was a flash in Strong’s eyes. He glanced at Ace. “The deputy won’t let you.”
Ace laughed softly. “These ladies have solved two murders before, Mr. Strong. I wouldn’t dismiss them too easily. And for your information, they don’t listen to me. At all.”
The latter words were underlined with a sharp look at Callie, who lowered her eyes.
“Two murders?” Strong looked confused. “Who died, and when, and why were you involved?”
“That doesn’t really matter now.” Iphy came over and took his hand in hers. “I want to help you, Sean. I know you think you don’t need help, but you do. For once shed that stubbornness of yours and—”
“We found out some important information,” Callie added. “That the dead man swindled people. That could provide a motive for murder.”
“Exactly,” Strong said in an ominous tone. He pulled his hand away from Iphy and stood there, straight and almost glowering.
Suddenly Callie understood. It came to her in a painful flash as she realized with breathless intensity what this meant. How Iphy’s attempts to help Sean Strong had achieved the exact opposite. “You were a victim too? You came to confront him about his actions? You exchanged places with Teak specifically to …?”
Iphy raised both hands to her face. “Oh, Sean.” She looked at Callie, struggling to speak without shivering. “We unearthed his motive for murder!”
Strong laughed softly. “That was my reason for not wanting to speak with your deputy. But it’s too late now.”
Iphy looked devastated. “We only made it worse,” she whispered to no one in particular. “This is the end of it.”
Ace put a hand on Strong’s shoulder. “Won’t you take a seat, sir? Then we can talk.” After a short silence, he continued, “You can now freely tell us your story.”
Strong hesitated a moment and then walked to the chair Iphy had vacated. “Why not?” He sat down and sighed. “I guess it would have to come out sooner or later. I was just hoping I could keep her out of it.” He sat there with his head down.
Iphy came to stand beside him and put her arm around him. He didn’t stir.
Ace sat down in the sheriff’s swivel chair again. He didn’t press the man to speak, but waited quietly until he began talking of his own accord. “I’m in my seventies, Deputy. Most people that age no longer have their parents. But my mother had me at a very young age. She was a strong woman who fought through every setback life threw at her: the death of my father when she had five children to care for, a perpetual lack of money. She never complained but was always trying to see the bright side of things. All of us took odd jobs at a young age to help her make ends meet. Then, when we were older, she married again. A wealthy businessman who owned several factories in the region, and at last she had a good life. I left home and pursued my singing career, and I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t see her often.”
Callie recalled Iphy had told her that back then, when they had first met, when asked about his family, Sean had said that he wasn’t in touch with them much.
Strong continued in a low voice, “But three years ago her second husband died as well, and she was left alone again. She was a woman with a good heart, but no head for money. She left the financial side of things to her bankers and accountants. And then Mr. King came into her life.”
Throwing back his head to stare up at the ceiling, Strong clenched his hands together. “I was always traveling, and I didn’t look after her like I should. I thought my sisters were visiting her, you know, and I had no idea how lonely she really was. How much she ached for someone to just be kind to her.”
Callie swallowed, picturing this vulnerable elderly lady. Easy prey?
“I don’t know how they met exac
tly, or how he managed to win her confidence. But she let him into her life, her home, and he defrauded her of several valuable art objects. It wasn’t just the value of them but also the humiliation of having trusted someone and then being betrayed. Her heart couldn’t take it. She died.”
He looked up, his eyes burning with indignation. “I found out about the fraud because the lawyers had compared lists of what she owned with the actual objects in her home, and there was a discrepancy. I knew my mother would never sell things off without others knowing about it, so I asked her neighbors whether they had noticed anything in the months leading up to her death. That’s how I found out about the handsome well-dressed man visiting her. One neighbor recalled a license plate, and with the help of a PI, I traced him. Our expert.” He said it in a venomous tone.
Ace was listening quietly, not making notes, just sitting there as if he was worried that the slightest movement might disturb the flow of Sean Strong’s story. “I followed him here to talk to him, tell him what he had done, and he just laughed it off. Said she had died because she was just an old carcass. I grabbed him, and I shook him all right, Deputy. I would have liked to punch him in the face. But I didn’t. I knew, even in that haze of anger, that there were better ways to get him. Take away his toys. His treasured possessions, his money, his budding television career, his good name. I left him alive, determined to hire the best lawyers in the business and strip him of everything he had. Bit by bit, so it would hurt the most.”
Iphy patted his shoulder in silent sympathy.
Ace said, “When you left him, did you see anyone?”
“Just that assistant of his, the one who squealed about our argument and gave me away. No one else.” Strong took a deep breath. “I was so angry I’m even surprised I could perform. But that is a lifetime’s training. A routine.”
“I’m very sorry about your mother’s death.” Ace sat up. “We need details about her and the objects missing from her home, so we can see if they’re still among the dead man’s possessions. Since you say that her lawyers knew what should have been there, there should be no problem proving these things belonged to her and returning them to the estate.”
Strong sat with his head down. “It won’t bring my mother back, Deputy.”
“No,” Ace said softly. “I can’t do anything about that.”
Callie caught his eye and saw the genuine compassion there and the anger at the criminal who had done this.
Strong said, “Now you know I had every reason to hate that man. But I didn’t kill him.” He looked up at Iphy. “I didn’t.”
“I know, Sean.” Iphy smiled and put her hand against his face.
Callie stared at her great-aunt, the change that had come over her as she stood there with the man she had loved and lost fifty years ago. Such a long time and still her feelings seemed to be alive, as fresh as they had once been.
Ace said, “I must ask you to go back to your cell. I have a lot of things to check up on, and this information, although it’s enlightening, doesn’t clear you.”
“I know.” Strong drew breath slowly. “I should have looked after her better. I was away too much.”
Iphy squeezed his shoulder.
Ace said, “She might not have told you about this man anyway. Such conmen are very clever to attach themselves to people and drive a wedge between them and their family or friends so they don’t confide in them.”
“I let her down.” Strong spoke as if he hadn’t even heard Ace. “I should have been there for her, and I wasn’t. She died. I will never forgive myself for that.”
Iphy squeezed his shoulder again, but he got up abruptly and walked to the door. “I’ll go back to my cell now, Deputy. I’m tired.”
Ace got up and accompanied him.
Iphy stood staring at the closing door. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and rubbed them as if she was suddenly cold.
Callie said, “He must feel better now that he’s been able to tell the truth.” Inside, though, she wondered if that was really so. Had it really made him feel better to put into words that he had let his mother down and she had died, the victim of a ruthless conman who had only cared for money, never for people?
“Yes, but Falk is right. It doesn’t clear him. It gives him motive for the crime.” Iphy paced up and down. “A huge motive even. Consider this: in the cases of those ladies, it was money and humiliation, a need to settle the score, even after years and years. But Sean’s mother died. And recently. That makes him the ideal murderer. Full of vengeful thoughts when he came to Haywood Hall.”
Iphy closed her eyes a moment. “Oh, everything I do just seems to make it worse.” She snapped her eyes open again and added, “Also for you. I should never have involved you in it. It’s my battle to fight, my past. I’m so sorry, Callie. Please forgive me.”
Callie didn’t really know what to say to that. She wanted to forgive Iphy as she did understand her mixed-up emotions, and she also felt sorry for Sean Strong and the predicament his mother’s sad death had put him in.
But on the other hand, she felt the rift with Ace like a constant ache inside her and couldn’t just say it didn’t matter. It did.
Ace came back in. He shut the door and stood a moment, frowning hard, as if considering a difficult decision.
Iphy lowered her arms and said, “You have to go see that woman, Paula. She seems easier to handle. She’s the one who lied about her aunt’s inheritance. I bet she doesn’t have an aunt at all. I mean, not an aunt who died and left her anything of value.”
Ace raked through his hair. “I can’t confront her over her lies about the aunt. I’m not supposed to know about them.”
“Yet,” Callie said. “You could go and interview her because of her card in the book. She’ll tell you the same lies she told us initially, and then you can check on them and expose her. It will, in any case, widen the circle of people hurt by the dead expert’s fraud, and that could help Strong’s case.”
Ace looked doubtful. “This Paula might be thinking up a new story as we speak.” He tensed as he added, “Or be packing her bags.”
“Then you have to hurry.” Iphy made a gesture with both arms as if to shove him out the door.
Ace hesitated, grabbed his coat from the rack, and walked out.
Chapter Seventeen
Callie awoke with a feeling she hadn’t slept all night. She recalled snippets of dreams in which she had been running up an endless staircase in Haywood Hall, carrying sheets with crucial information while the killer followed her, determined to take them away. Getting more and more exhausted while running, Callie had at some point stumbled, and the sheets had fallen from her hands, whirling around her like fall leaves, only not gold and red, but stark white.
Then they had turned into snow, and she had been out in an open field, in the cold, which had oddly not touched her at all. She had felt light and happy, knowing it was close to Christmas. In the distance, a sleigh pulled by black horses had approached, and as it closed in, she had seen Ace in it, an empty place beside him. She had been certain he was coming to pick her up and had watched excitedly as the sleigh drew near.
But the horses hadn’t lessened their speed, and he had just breezed by, not even looking at her. The sleigh had passed her so closely, she had staggered backward and had fallen into the snow, which seeped into her clothes, into her very core, leaving her so dreadfully cold and alone.
Now awake, tossing and turning in her warm bed, Callie could still feel that cold. The cold of knowing Ace was angry with her, and last night hadn’t made it better. She cringed again, thinking of the look on his face when he had heard they had contacted Delacorte again. That had been wrong of them, but what else could they have done? Iphy was dead set on clearing Strong, and Callie couldn’t just let her emotional great-aunt struggle on her own.
She groaned and lay on her back, rubbing her face. A sound from beside the bed drew her attention, and little Daisy was sitting there, looking at her as if she se
nsed her human could do with some cuddles.
Callie sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the dog in her arms, enjoying the warmth of her body as she crept close against her, making soft sounds. “I still have you, girl,” Callie whispered. “You don’t understand what’s been going on, but even if you knew, you wouldn’t be angry at me—I know that. You’re always there for me, and that’s why I love you so much.”
She sat for a few more minutes, just soaking up the dog’s wordless support, and then she decided to go down and make herself a big breakfast. She put Daisy down, gave her a last pat, then went to shower and dress.
Twenty minutes later, Callie was setting the table and keeping an eye on the croissants she had popped in the oven to get warm. She was boiling eggs and pressing fresh juice and digging through the cupboard for walnuts to add to the yogurt. Honey too, maybe.
She jerked upright when she heard a noise at the back door. She checked her watch. Wasn’t it a bit early for social calls?
Then she suddenly, optimistically, hoped it was Ace and ran for the door. But to her surprise, it was Paula.
Or the woman calling herself Paula.
She was dressed in a short red jacket, jeans, and ankle boots. She gave Callie a pleading look. “Hello there. Can I come in for a moment? I have something to discuss with you.”
Callie wasn’t sure she actually wanted to let this woman into her kitchen, her home.
Paula seemed to sense her doubts and said, “I won’t stay long. I just need to tell you something. Please? It could be important.”
Callie’s curiosity won out over her reluctance, and she nodded and let the woman in. She took the pan with eggs from the stove and leaned against the sink, keeping a watchful eye on Paula, who pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table.
Daisy sniffed around her ankle boots, but Paula seemed too preoccupied to notice or acknowledge her.
Paula launched into her story. “Last night your fiancé was at the hotel. The deputy. He found the card in the book and wanted to know if I knew the victim personally. Of course, it is a bit odd to invite someone to your hotel room like that.”