The House on Tradd Street

by White, Karen

  I looked away, afraid that I might cry if I didn’t. “So the clues have been here all this time, and Nevin never knew. He died without ever knowing.”

  “That’s not true, dear,” Susannah said gently. “He knew his mother loved him. And he knew enough to leave his house to you. He must have been pretty sure that you would continue searching for his mother.” She smiled. “And that’s why I decided to give the box to you and not that other fellow.”

  Jack sat up straight. “There was somebody else here asking about Louisa?”

  Susannah wrinkled her forehead. “Yes—late yesterday afternoon. He was only here briefly, which is probably why I forgot about it until now.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry—my memory isn’t what is used to be, I’m afraid.”

  Something cold and heavy gripped my gut. “Do you remember his name?” My voice sounded strangled, as if I were struggling to get the words out from my tightening neck. I recalled Marc canceling our date because of a sudden out-of-town trip, and the person at the Historical Society’s library who’d misfiled the book we needed that would lead us to Susannah Barnsley. And the hang-up phone calls Miss Barnsley had received from Charleston that weren’t from us. I felt Jack’s eyes on me, but I didn’t look at him.

  Susannah tapped her fingernails against the arm of her chair. “It will come to me, just a moment.” She continued tapping her fingers, her brows creased in a deep frown.

  Jack cleared his throat. “What did he look like?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I always notice a nice-looking man. He was very tall, taller than you. He had very dark hair and dark eyes. And he wore an expensive suit. That’s something Gus taught me, you know—how to recognize good tailoring.” She chuckled. “It’s funny, isn’t it, that I can remember things like that from a long time ago but I have trouble remembering what happened yesterday?”

  Jack hesitated, and I knew he was going to wait for me to ask the question or not ask it at all. Feeling almost as if my voice was coming from another person, I asked, “Was his name Marc Longo?”

  Susannah’s frown smoothed and her face brightened. “Yes, that’s it exactly. I should have at least remembered the last name. Joseph Longo is who Louisa was supposed to have run away with. Not that I ever believed it, of course.”

  I opened my mouth to ask the next question and found that I couldn’t. Jack spoke instead. “Was he asking about Louisa and Joseph?”

  She frowned again. “You know, I’m not sure if he did. But I do remember that he asked me about the diamonds. He asked me several times if Gus had sent me away with them.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  Susannah smiled sweetly. “I told him no, of course. That I had never heard of the diamonds. Which wasn’t true—I had heard of them, but I didn’t know anything about them. Not that I would have told him, anyway. There was something I didn’t like about him. Something . . . untrustworthy.”

  Jack had the decency not to say anything.

  I managed to find my voice. “Would you like us to open the box now?”

  She appeared to consider my question for a moment, but then shook her head “No. I don’t think so. It was never for me, you see. I’ve kept it and not told anybody but you about it for all of these years, just like I promised Gus. I don’t want to break my promise now.”

  Jack nodded slowly, then stood. “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, Miss Barnsley. I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been enormously helpful.”

  I stood, too, my knees shaky, still not sure if the frozen ball in my stomach was going to be too heavy to walk with. I moved to Susannah’s chair and knelt in front of her. “Yes, thank you. Thank you for trusting me with the box.”

  She touched my hair, and then my cheeks and smiled. “I’m so glad we met. It’s nice to see a part of Gus after all these years. You’ve made an old lady very happy.”

  I placed her hand between mine. “Then that alone was worth the trip. Is there anything we can send you from home? Anything you need?”

  She squeezed my hand. “Gus is gone now, so there’s nothing on this earth that I need. But I want you to promise me one thing.”

  “Sure. Just name it.”

  “Promise me that you’ll set it right—for not just Louisa but for all of them.”

  “I will, Miss Barnsley. I promise.”

  “Good,” she said, squeezing my hand again before glancing up at Jack. “Is he your beau?”

  “Definitely not,” I said at the same time Jack said, “I like to think so.”

  Susannah surprised me by laughing. “I understand. He’s a bit like Gus, that one. You’ll resist him and you’ll resist him, and then one day it’ll be like a bucket of water being thrown over your head, and you’ll wonder how you ever lived without him.”

  I stood and grinned wryly. “More likely the bucket will have to hit me in the head hard enough to make me lose my senses.”

  Jack nudged me with his elbow as he leaned down to kiss Susannah’s cheek. “Goodbye, Miss Barnsley. It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope we’ll have the chance to meet again.”

  “Me, too,” she said as Mrs. Marston appeared with our coats to escort us to the door.

  Wordlessly, Jack and I got into the rental car, and Jack handed me the box. As if in mutual agreement, we maintained the silence until we reached the highway and Jack spoke. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Fine.” He drew a deep breath. “Any ideas on how we’re going to open the box?”

  I looked outside the window at the vast countryside passing by, the greens and blues of summer hidden beneath the reds and golds of autumn. “Pull over.”

  Jack had the good sense not to question me and pulled the car over onto the shoulder of the two-lane highway. I jumped out of the car with the box, and Jack followed me to the edge of a field. “Help me find a big rock.”

  Realization dawned in his eyes as he turned away from me, and we began combing the edge of the field for anything heavy enough to break the lock. We’d been looking for only about five minutes before Jack called out to me, holding up a chunk of rock a little bigger than his fist. He approached and reached for the box.

  “No,” I said. “Let me do it.”

  He didn’t argue and handed me the stone. I knelt in the grass beside the box, steadying it with my left hand while I brought the rock up above it with my right. It took me three tries before the metal lock pulled away from the wood.

  Jack picked up the box and examined my handiwork. “Hell hath no fury, I guess.”

  I sent him a warning look. Again exercising good sense, Jack bent to the task of removing the remnants of the lock from the wood before handing the box back to me. “I think you should do the honors.”

  “Thank you,” I said. While he held the box, I slowly opened the lid and peered inside.

  “Well?” asked Jack impatiently.

  “Oh,” I said. “I certainly didn’t expect this.” I put the box down so we could examine the contents together.

  “This is a surprise,” said Jack as he reached in and took out a small revolver and began to examine it. “It’s a Remington derringer,” he said, checking the two barrels. “It can only hold two single rounds and both barrels are empty.” Our eyes met for a moment considering the implications before I reached in and pulled out an envelope identical to the one from the other humidor.

  “Go ahead and open it,” Jack urged.

  Nevin’s name was scrawled on the front of the envelope in the same handwriting as the first one, but this time I didn’t hesitate to open it. The letter was three pages of neat script, and I cleared my throat before beginning to read.

  September 1, 1930

  My precious son,

  If you are reading this, then I am probably already gone from this world, having never had the chance to tell you the truth of what happened the night your mother disappeared. I regret that this is how you find out, but hope you realize that I had no choice and that
every decision I made was made out of love for you and for your mother. I’m hoping also that your own memories of that terrible night will come back after you have read this letter so that you will have corroboration of what I’m writing, and know that it is all true.

  On the night your mother disappeared from our lives, we had a visitor to the house—a business associate of mine, Joseph Longo. First, allow me to explain that he was not a business associate by choice. His family was deeply involved in bootlegging and other illegal activities in Charleston at the time and sought to control all avenues of vice in the city.

  Never having involved myself in this area before, I was quite naive when I started my own bootlegging enterprise out at Magnolia Ridge in an effort to prevent our family from going bankrupt following the stock market crash of ’twenty-nine. It was quite a profitable venture, allowing us to keep our home and send you to a better school than we could have otherwise afforded. Unfortunately, being profitable meant bringing my enterprise to the attention of Mr. Longo. I knew he was in the pockets of the authorities, and there would have been no purpose in turning him in, but I had no such protection.

  He threatened to ruin me both financially and socially by alerting the authorities to my illegal activities unless I agreed to give him something in exchange for his silence. Regrettably, I had unknowingly given him the one weapon he needed to coerce me. You see, many years ago, following the War of Northern Aggression, our family obtained ownership of six very valuable diamonds. These diamonds remained hidden until I accidentally discovered them several years ago. Not guessing at the implications, I had a necklace made for your mother using one of them—a necklace she wore for a photograph that appeared in the newspaper. Longo knew of the diamonds, and thought them legend until he saw the photograph. I was prepared to go to jail rather than let that man have what I’d always considered as your inheritance, and your children’s. But he knew of your mother’s weakness where you and I were concerned, and played on her conscience by telling her how hard jail would be for me, and how unprotected she and her son would be. Seeing no other choice, she capitulated, and gave him her necklace—since she never knew the location of the other diamonds—and that appeased him, but only for a while. Longo went to Europe and gambled the proceeds, and it wasn’t long before he was back asking for more.

  On the day your mother disappeared, Joseph Longo—knowing I would be at work, and most likely also knowing that Wednesday was our servants’ day off—came to the house to see your mother to demand another diamond. She told him that he would have to talk to me because she didn’t know where the diamonds were. He rightly assumed that I would never give him another diamond, so he began to threaten her, assuming she was lying. As she pleaded with him to believe her, you, dear Nevin, must have heard the commotion and entered the room.

  Unfortunately for Joseph Longo, I had just returned from my office to retrieve several documents that I had inadvertently left at home. I spotted Mr. Longo’s automobile parked outside and knew there would be trouble. Following your mother’s cries, I rushed to the drawing room and saw Mr. Longo pointing a revolver at you. My entrance distracted him, and your mother saw her chance to protect you. She ran to you, and as Mr. Longo turned back around, he fired his pistol. I believe the bullet was meant for you, and instead it found your mother.

  Your beloved mother died instantly, as the bullet pierced her heart. Do not grieve, dearest Nevin. She would not have survived if you had been harmed. She died as she had lived, loving us both completely, and I am assured by my faith that we will see her again.

  I’m not sure of the exact order in which things happened next. I was in a fury such as I had never experienced before. I threw myself at Longo, and he could not protect himself from my rage. I wrested the pistol from his grasp and shot him once in the chest without thinking twice about the consequences. He, alas, did not die immediately. And I watched him die a long and agonizing death. I was glad of it; he deserved to die for what he had done. But I knew the truth of this scene could never be told.

  Mr. Longo’s business associates and relatives were numerous and well connected. I feared that if the truth should be discovered not only would my life be in peril, but yours would, as well. They are merciless, and would not think twice about killing a child. Since your mother gave her life that you should survive, I could not let her death be in vain.

  I called my good friend and law partner, and your godfather, Augustus Middleton, for assistance. I was a wreck by then because of my grief at losing your mother and almost losing you, and he had to be the one to think, as I was incapable. He helped me hide the bodies so that they couldn’t be found unless you knew where to look. He also orchestrated the idea behind the two humidors to keep our secret from prying eyes, but to allow you access in the event that something happened to both myself and Gus before we’d had a chance to explain everything to you. And, as you know now, he gave this last box to Miss Barnsley for safekeeping.

  Augustus also thought it best to send to the newspapers an anonymous tip stating that your mother had run away with Mr. Longo. It killed me to think of such slander being directed at your mother, but I also knew that it was the only way we could keep you safe. I also believe that your dear mother would agree with anything to protect you.

  The only piece of the puzzle that wouldn’t conveniently fit was you, dear son. The events of that tragic night wounded you in a way I had not anticipated—a way that was both a blessing and a curse. You woke up the following morning asking for your mama, not having remembered the incident of the previous night. I believe this is how your mind is dealing with this tragedy, by blocking it from your conscious memory, and for that, I am grateful.

  Be assured, dear Nevin, that you were always deeply loved by both of your parents. As you are reading this letter, you will look back on your life and know this is true.

  Until we meet again, dear son,

  Your loving father.

  Robert Nevin Vanderhorst

  I slowly folded the letter and placed it inside the envelope. “Poor Louisa,” I said, fighting back tears. “And poor Nevin. She died saving his life, yet he grew up believing she’d abandoned him. How very sad.”

  Jack placed his arm around my shoulder, and I let him because I needed a place to hide my tears. “But at least we know the truth now. And we can let the rest of the world know. That should make us both feel better.” I nodded, knowing he was right, but I couldn’t quite stop seeing the forlorn look on Mr. Vanderhorst’s face as I said goodbye to him in the doorway of his house. An unsettled feeling lingered, as if we weren’t completely finished with the story of Louisa and Nevin.

  Jack rubbed my back. “There’s still so much that needs to be answered. Like where were Louisa and Joseph buried? And where are the rest of the diamonds—assuming any are left?”

  I pulled away, rubbing my eyes and staring everywhere but at Jack. There was one last object in the box, and he reached inside and pulled out a faded red velvet pouch closed at the top with a gold drawstring, a fringed tassel that had long lost its gold coloring dangling from the string. A tingling sensation erupted down my back, and I shivered. I remembered my mother once telling me that the feeling was similar to what ghosts felt when somebody walked on their grave, and I shivered again, trying to focus on Jack. He loosened up the top of the pouch, and I felt compelled to hold out my hand, the palm turned upward in a small cup. He tilted the small bag over my hand, and we watched in surprise as a large, seemingly flawless diamond slipped effortlessly into my hand.

  CHAPTER 24

  The sun hit the brilliant-cut stone, prisms of light exploding from the gem like a shout of freedom. “Well, that answers part of your question,” I said, my fingers closing over the diamond as if still wanting to guard Robert Vanderhorst’s secret.

  “Sort of. But we’re still missing three diamonds. We know about three others: Louisa’s necklace that was sold and gambled away, we have this one here, and I would bet Marc Longo’s Italian suit co
llection that a third diamond was sold to finance Susannah Barnsley’s abrupt departure from Charleston.”

  My jaw twitched at the mention of Marc’s name. “So those three remaining diamonds were either sold long ago, or they’re still hidden where Robert put them.”

  “Exactly.”

  I looked down at the diamond in my hand. “But at least we know that Louisa and Joseph are dead, and that Louisa didn’t abandon her son. You have no idea how relieved I am to say that.”

  Jack gave me a half smile. “I have a pretty good idea.” He opened the pouch, and I reluctantly slipped the diamond inside it.

  “I wish I knew where Louisa is buried. I think we need to find that out before she can rest in peace.”

  Jack nodded. “We’ll need to work harder on those ciphers.” He replaced the pouch and the gun into the box, but I kept the letter with me, not yet ready to part with it. We walked back up the shallow embankment and got into the car.

  Jack started the engine. “We’ll have to stop at a Wal-mart or something so we’ll have a suitcase to check on the plane. We won’t be able to bring the gun in our carry-ons, and I don’t want to have to explain that diamond.”

  “We can’t check that—what if it’s stolen?”

  Jack pulled out onto the highway. “It won’t be. We’ll buy a Dora the Explorer bag so it looks like it belongs to a child, and some clothes to wrap around it. Trust me—no one will touch it.”

  “Really?” I asked, still feeling uneasy.

  “Really,” he assured me. “Have I ever led you wrong?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was referring to my lack of judgment where Marc was concerned, so I just looked away without answering. “Who’s Dora the Explorer?”

  “Just a cartoon character who’s popular with the preschool crowd these days—a little more educational than the Scooby-Doo cartoons we used to watch.”

  “I never watched Scooby-Doo, remember? And how do you know about Dora the Explorer?”