It was a horrible document. Yet Sarah read on until her fingertips were raw from fumbling over the hard knots, until her body was chilled through despite the down comforter. She stayed at the window until dawn cast its dirty coral glow over the rooftops. Then, as though she dared not let the sun see what she was up to, she crawled into Caroline Kelling’s bed and went to sleep.
21
THIS TIME IT WAS the telephone that woke her. Sarah started downstairs still half asleep, felt the blast from those open windows on the third floor and decided she’d better shut them before she went down. By the time she got to the phone, there was nobody on the line. Fuming, she climbed back to her own room and put on some clothes.
Nothing up here seemed to have been disturbed. Even Aunt Caroline’s pearls as well as her own modest strand and what remained of the money she’d got from Mr. Redfern were lying on the dresser. Sarah went to take a closer look at Alexander’s room. Here, too, except for the mess of bedclothes on the floor, there really wasn’t much wrong. His studs and cufflinks were safe in the collar box along with Grandfather Kelling’s massive solid gold watch and chain with the star sapphire set into the fob.
That scared her more than anything else. Sarah backed out of the room and was running down to check the dining room silver when she heard an almighty thumping on the front door. Whoever that might be, it was surely no ghost. Uncle Jem, perhaps, though he wasn’t usually so energetic at this hour of the morning. She peeked through one of the narrow glass panels that flanked the doorway and saw Max Bittersohn, in what appeared to be a state of utter panic.
“Mr. Bittersohn, what’s the matter?”
“Why didn’t you answer the phone?” he yelled back.
“I did, but you hung up too fast.” She opened the door. “Come in and help me hunt for burglars. I think there’s been a break-in, though I haven’t found anything missing so far.”
All at once Sarah was exhausted. “Would you mind terribly if I went out to the kitchen and made some coffee first? I haven’t had breakfast, and I feel a bit wobbly.”
“So do I. Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
Sarah hunched her shoulders. “Because I didn’t have guts enough to come downstairs, if you want the truth. I’d moved into my mother-in-law’s room on the second floor, thinking that would be close enough to the telephone, but it wasn’t.”
“Want to tell me what happened?”
“I wish I could. All I really know is that sometime during the night, both windows in my husband’s room on the third floor were opened from the top and the covers pulled off the bed.”
“That’s odd. And you say nothing was taken?”
“Not that I could see. A valuable antique watch and some other things are still there, and my own room next to his wasn’t disturbed at all, though I’d left my money and Aunt Caroline’s pearls in plain sight. I haven’t searched downstairs yet because I just got up. I locked myself in Aunt Caroline’s room after I found the windows open and didn’t get to sleep till daybreak. I hadn’t realized what a coward I am.”
All he said was, “Where do you keep the coffee?”
“Oh, please don’t bother. I can manage the stove, if nothing else. Do you eat eggs? Those seem to be about the only thing I have in the house.”
“You don’t have to get anything for me.”
“But I’d like to. I hate cooking for just myself.”
Sarah poked bread into the toaster. She felt weepy again; was that because she’d found a shoulder she could bawl on? Why was this strange man showing such concern, when her own family didn’t mind leaving her to fend for herself? Egg box in hand, she turned and faced him.
“Mr. Bittersohn, I’m going to ask an extremely rude question, and I hope you’ll understand why I have to know. Does your benevolent interest in me have anything to do with the Kelling jewelry?”
To her surprise, he laughed. “I was wondering when we’d get around to that. I can’t afford to buy the collection, and I’m not planning to steal it, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“But what about your book?”
“Forget it. Okay, I guess it’s time I came clean. Remember my uncle, the pawnbroker?”
“You mentioned that you had one.”
“Well, back when I was in college, he got caught in a flimflam involving some stolen diamonds, and wound up in jail on manufactured evidence. That didn’t worry him much, he said the hours were shorter and you met a nicer class of people. My mother, on the other hand, was very upset because it was a schamde for the neighbors. When my mother’s upset, everybody’s upset. This to me was a real problem. I was still living at home and working my way through school, which gave me little enough time to do my homework under the best of conditions. I had exams coming up, and I knew Ma would never shut up and let me study unless I managed somehow to get Uncle Herman sprung. So I started nosing around and happened by some miraculous accident to catch the crooks who set him up.”
“And you got your Uncle Herman out of jail?”
“I did. He’s never forgiven me for making him look like a fool, and the neighbors are still talking. So’s my mother. What can you do? Anyway, that was what you might call the turning point of my career. I switched to an art history major—which further upset my mother who was determined I should become a rich podiatrist—and started a little private practice tracking down stolen jewelry, objets d’art, antiques, and whatnot. After graduation I branched out into various other odd jobs like finding out who’s painting the Rembrandts and Tintorettos these days. There’s a great deal of theft and fraud in the art world that the police never get called in on. They haven’t the time or the expertise to handle certain situations that come up, and often the client doesn’t want any publicity. So that’s what I do for a living. I don’t carry any credentials because it wouldn’t be a smart thing to do, and anyway, there’s nobody who could give me any. But you’re welcome to check some references if you want.”
He mentioned four impressive names that Sarah knew. One of them happened to be a member of the Kelling clan.
“So that’s how Uncle Thaddeus got his Corots back. You should have heard the lies he told.”
“I’ve heard worse, no doubt. If you’re cooking those eggs for me, would you mind flipping them over and letting them get brown till they’re about the texture of asphalt shingles?”
“If I must.”
Sarah transferred her own two to a warmed plate and turned the others with a spatula. “I hope you also want the yolks broken. I’m all thumbs this morning.”
“I don’t wonder. Getting back to this visitation, or whatever it was, have you any idea when it happened?”
“I’d say it must have been three o’clock I woke up suddenly—I suppose because I’d heard the windows banging down. Anyway, I felt this terrific draft and went to see where it was coming from. Surely these eggs must be hard enough now?”
“Great. Thanks.” Bittersohn attacked the leathery mess with enthusiasm. “If you’re such a coward, what made you go charging up there by yourself?”
“I thought a sash cord had broken. They rot out every so often. I suppose the truth of the matter is that I didn’t think at all; I simply reacted.”
“Had you been asleep long?”
“Since about half-past ten, I think. After you called, I spent some time clearing out Aunt Caroline’s room so I could use it, then took a hot soak and read William James for a little while.”
“Why William James?”
“He always puts me to sleep; don’t ask me why. I’ve been trying to read that book for years and still haven’t got beyond the fourth chapter. How did we get started on William James?”
Bittersohn helped himself to another piece of toast. “Never mind, go ahead and talk. Say anything that comes into your head. Who knows, it could be important.”
“May I ask questions?”
“Sure, why not?”
“This—this reason you have for being interested in the f
amily jewels. Was it anything to do with having my mother-in-law arrested?”
The man blinked. “That’s one I didn’t expect. Is there any reason why I should?”
“Perhaps.”
“Care to explain?”
Sarah made her decision. “Yes, I do. I’ve got to tell somebody, in case something happens to me. It’s not right to just let this ride. Would you believe that if my Great-uncle Frederick hadn’t been so down on his relatives, my husband and his mother would still be alive?”
“And where would you be? Go ahead, Mrs. Kelling, start wherever you want and say whatever you please.”
“I hardly know how to begin.”
“Then let me ask you, when did you first learn that your mother-in-law was up to tricks with the jewelry?”
“It began that day my cousin and I found Ruby Redd’s skeleton in what used to be our family vault. You know about that, you saw it on the news. Remember you started talking about it at the Lackridges’ and Alexander didn’t want Aunt Caroline to know?”
“How could I forget? He looked as if he were in shock.”
“I’m sure he was. He had good reason to be, as I found out later.”
“How did you find out?”
“I began to suspect something later that same evening.”
She told of the photograph that matched her sketch of the wall in the vault, of her decision to question Tim O’Ghee, of finding the old bartender dead, and of the scene Mrs. Wandelowski and the self-styled doctor had staged to persuade her that he hadn’t been murdered. She explained why she’d been in such a state that night Bittersohn met her at the coffee shop coming from Ireson’s Landing. She told of the confrontation with Alexander, of how he’d seen his mother get rid of his father’s medicine, how Caroline forced him to help her hide Ruby Redd’s body, how she’d killed Walter Kelling and made Alexander marry Sarah to keep all three of them alive. Sarah explained how she thought the Milburn had been wrecked, and why. Lastly, she let Bittersohn know about that bizarre journal Caroline Kelling had left, and what it revealed.
When she got through he said, “My God!” and held out his cup for more coffee.
That commonplace gesture put the final stamp of reality on the whole fantastic situation. Sarah got up from the table and reached for the coffeepot.
“I’m afraid it’s gone cold. I didn’t realize I’d been talking so long. Can you wait a moment till I heat it up, or would you rather I made a fresh pot?”
“Don’t bother. My mother says I drink too much coffee anyway. Look, speaking of coffee, I don’t know if you realized it, but that night when I met you at the coffee shop, you looked as if you’d been through the wars. After you left, I called my brother-in-law and asked him how to find your place at Ireson’s Landing, just out of curiosity. I was almost there when I noticed a car making a left-hand turn out of the driveway, so I slowed down and opened my window, hoping to get a glimpse of the driver.
“Between the rain and the dark I couldn’t see much, but I thought it was a man, and I had a hunch I’d know him if I could have got a better look. That was encouragement of a sort, so I went on up the drive, got out my flashlight, and started prowling. The ground was so soft that I had no trouble picking up tracks. I followed that path down to the wall and found a couple of places where you’d apparently skidded and fallen. That was a relief, at least I could assume you hadn’t been beaten up by the guy. I didn’t see any scraps of paper around, so it’s entirely possible he did pick up the sketch you threw away.”
“But you can’t say who he was?”
“I’m hoping it will come to me. I’m wondering now if it mightn’t have been that man who posed as the doctor the day you found O’Ghee. He could have been tailing you—trying to find out if you’d swallowed the story about O’Ghee’s committing suicide, and what you were going to do about it if you hadn’t.”
“Yes, he could. He knew who I was and how to find me. Then it must have been he whom I saw that second time out there, too, the night before Alexander was killed.”
“No, I’m afraid that may have been my nephew Mike. A detective he isn’t. I’d been uneasy about you after Dee mentioned at that asinine conference he put on that you and your husband were heading back to Ireson’s Landing. I still couldn’t figure out what had happened that other time, but I knew you’d had a bad experience of some kind. However, I had no special reason to connect that incident with the business about the Kelling jewelry. Frankly, it seemed more plausible to me at the time that your husband had killed Ruby Redd and bricked up her body in the family vault and was having problems with somebody who knew he’d been her boy friend. However, I was thinking in terms of blackmail, not murder. In any event, I’d committed myself to being in New York that night, so the best I could think of was to phone Mike and ask him to keep an eye on you while I was out of town, just on general principles. He did the best he could. I’m sorry it wasn’t good enough. He’s blaming himself like hell, poor kid, because he didn’t think to check out the Milburn.”
“He mustn’t do that,” said Sarah. “He couldn’t even have got at the car without breaking into the shed. I still can’t imagine how anybody managed to tamper with the Milburn. Alexander would have spotted the damage if there’d been anything to see.”
“At least you can be darn sure Mike’s gone over every nut and bolt on the Studebaker with a magnifying glass,” Bittersohn replied. “It’s good therapy for him. I might as well tell you that meeting you at the filling station as I did wasn’t exactly an accident. I’d spoken with Mike late the previous night from New York, and he’d said everything was fine. I called him when I got back to Logan Airport, and he was all to pieces. He’d been hearing about the wreck on a local police scanner they keep at the station. So I hotfooted it out there, keeping my eyes peeled all the way for that old Studebaker. I stopped to ask Mike if he knew whether you were still at Ireson’s Landing, and as luck would have it, you pulled in two minutes later. All I had to do was wait till you’d gone to phone, then drive back around to the front of the station and put on a little act.”
“I’m sure your kindness was no act,” Sarah told him. “I can’t tell you—”
“Forget it. Mind if I run through a couple of points again?”
“Not at all.”
“That conversation you had with your husband after you got home from the party—is it possible anybody overheard?”
“I don’t see how. It was much too cold to have a window open, and I very carefully made sure Edith, our maid, wasn’t within earshot because I knew she’d snoop if she knew anything was going on. She had her own sitting room in the basement, where she spent most of her spare time with the television blaring. Often she’d doze off in her chair. She’s not a young woman, and she likes her port. That’s what she was doing while we were talking. We’d had a fight in the kitchen when I had gone to fix a snack for Alexander, and she’d flounced off in a huff. Besides, he and I were in the library with the door closed, and it’s a very tight fit. He put weatherstripping around the edges to keep out drafts from the hall.”
“Your mother-in-law wasn’t with you? I don’t suppose there’s any possible chance Mrs. Kelling could hear more than she led you to believe?”
“No chance whatever,” said Sarah positively. “I couldn’t have lived with her all these years and not known. Anyway, she wasn’t in the house. She’d gone out to dinner with—oh, good heavens!”
“With whom?” Bittersohn prompted. “Her little love?”
Sarah shook her head. “I honestly don’t know, but I wonder. His name is Edgar Merton, and everybody says he’s been in love with Aunt Caroline for years and years. He’s still quite a handsome man, and he isn’t much bigger than I am. Aunt Caroline was tall, as you know. Edgar barely came up to her chin.”
“Has he got any money?”
“You’d think so from the way he lives, but I don’t think he has a penny in his own right. Edgar’s people got cleaned out in the Depression, so he
married an heiress. Alice Merton was never an awfully clever woman. She started to become senile six or eight years ago and is completely noncompos now. Since she had to be hospitalized, Edgar’s been showing Aunt Caroline a great deal of attention. I must admit I encouraged his visits because it gave Alexander a chance to breathe.”
She cleared her throat. “Anyway, Edgar was at the tea and asked the three of us to go on with him to dinner at the Harvard Club. I told him Alexander wasn’t up to it and suggested he take Leila Lackridge.”
“Why Mrs. Lackridge?”
“Harry was off selling his books, and Leila was at loose ends. It was easier if she went along to help with the conversation and take Aunt Caroline to the ladies’ room or whatever. I wanted Edgar to keep her out as long as possible so we’d have a peaceful evening. We were in bed before she got back.”
Bittersohn must have seen the pain that recollection caused her. He asked brusquely, “What does this Merton do?”
“Nothing in particular. Visits his friends, plays bridge at his club, goes off on a trip now and then. He’s well past retirement age, though I don’t think he had much to retire from. Edgar was supposed to be connected with one of the big brokerage houses, but he couldn’t have worked awfully hard at his job. He and Alice always used to be traveling.”
“That so?” Bittersohn mulled over this information for a moment. “Who else?”
“Who else paid attention to Aunt Caroline, you mean? My father, for one, after Mother died, but you can’t count him since she killed him. Of course, there have been any number of people who’ve gone out of their way to be kind to her. She was a heroine, supposedly, and still a tremendously attractive, intelligent person to be with. My Uncle Jem—oh, that beastly phone! It never stops.”
She put her hand out to the wall extension, but Bittersohn grabbed it. “Wait a second. Where’s the other phone?”
“In the front hall, on a little stand in the far corner.”
Family Vault Page 19