by Bobbi Holmes
“It’s nice out here,” Ian said at last, breaking the silence.
“Yes it is. Dani hired a gardener to clean the yard up. He’s coming tomorrow.”
“I hope he doesn’t remove too much. This place has a special charm.”
“Yes…yes, it does.” Lily glanced down and smiled at Sadie just as Ian turned in her direction. He studied Lily’s profile in the moonlight. She continued to look down at Sadie, unaware of his scrutiny. Without thought, Ian reached out to Lily with his right hand and captured her chin, gently turning her face in his direction.
Startled by his touch, Lily’s eyes widened as she looked up into Ian’s somber expression. Their gazes locked for several moments before Ian leaned toward her to claim a kiss. Closing her eyes, she accepted the brief intimacy. When the kiss ended Lily pulled away from Ian and just stared at him.
“I…I think I need to go. We have a big day ahead of us.” Lily stood up abruptly, dislodging Sadie’s chin from its resting place on her shoe. The golden retriever looked up.
“Will you go to dinner with me tomorrow?” Ian asked.
Lily considered his question for a moment. “Okay. We should be back by late afternoon.”
“Give me a call when you get back.”
• • • •
“Hell, Kelly, what if they stumbled on the story?” Ian ranted into the cellphone. He stood in the unlit living room, staring out the window. He could see the light on across the street in Lily’s bedroom.
“It sounds to me like she was just trying to get you to tell her what we’re working on,” Kelly suggested.
“I don’t know. She said they were going to Astoria tomorrow, to interview someone. I swear, if this story ends up on someone’s website before we go to print, I might as well go back to teaching.”
“Right. You hated teaching,” Kelly reminded him. “And after all this, you’re taking her out to dinner?”
“Tomorrow night. When they get back from Astoria.”
“You think she’ll tell you how their little interview went?”
“I hope so. I’ll call you tomorrow night.” Ian disconnected the call and tossed the cellphone on the couch. He looked back out the window toward Marlow House.
Glancing upward, he noticed the light on in the attic. Was this where George Hemming was standing when he saw Marlow hanging? Ian wondered. In the next moment the attic light went out.
His gaze dropped back to the second floor and Lily’s lit window.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Danielle and Lily arrived in Astoria the next morning they used the directions Adam had given them to locate Emma Jackson’s house. It was a cheery little bungalow painted bright blue with white trim. An elderly black woman, whom they assumed was Emma Jackson, napped peacefully in a rocking chair on the front porch.
Lily and Danielle silently made their way up the walk leading to the front steps of the Jackson home. Reluctant to wake the woman, they paused a moment when they reached the steps. When deciding how to proceed, the front door opened and out walked a tall dark man wearing crisply pressed gray slacks and a blue golf shirt.
“You must be Danielle and Lily,” the man boomed. Both looked over at Emma, not wanting to startle the elderly woman awake.
The man glanced for a moment to Emma then back to Danielle and Lily. “Oh, Grandma won’t hear me.” He motioned for them to come up. “She doesn’t have her hearing aids in. Can’t hear a thing without them. We’ll need to wake her up if you want to talk to her. I’m Mathew Jackson, Emma’s grandson. Please call me Mathew.”
“Nice to meet you Mathew,” Danielle said as she shook his hand and stepped onto the porch. “I’m Danielle Boatman and this is my friend Lily Miller. But I hate to wake your grandma up from her nap.”
“Ahhh, don’t be silly. Grandma is always dozing off.” He shook Lily’s hand. “Grandma loves talking about the old days. She’s quite the talker once you get her started, and when Sam called and said you wanted to talk to her about Roger Calvert and Marlow House, she just perked up.”
“Who’s Sam?” Lily asked.
“Sam’s a local Realtor. Goes to Grandma’s church. He’s the one who contacted us about you,” Mathew explained.
“That must be Adam’s friend,” Danielle told Lily.
“Do you live with your grandmother?” Lily asked.
“No, I’m just visiting for her big birthday bash the family has planned.” Mathew walked over to the rocking chair and gently nudged his grandmother awake. Momentarily disoriented, Emma blinked her eyes several times and looked around. When she noticed the two strangers she tucked her hand in the front pocket of her blouse and pulled out her eye glasses, which had hearing aids attached. After slipping on her glasses she fitted the hearing aids in her ears.
“You the young women who want to talk to me about Marlow House?” Emma asked, her voice as loud and clear as her grandson’s.
“Yes ma’am. My name is Danielle Boatman and this is my friend Lily Miller. I appreciate you taking time out of your day to talk with us.”
Emma laughed. “All I seem to have these days is time on my hands. Mathew, get these girls a glass of cold lemonade, they look thirsty.”
Danielle started to say they didn’t need anything to drink but Emma hushed her and sent Mathew into the house to fetch the beverages.
“I understand you’re living at Marlow House,” Emma asked after Lily and Danielle each took a chair on the porch.
“Yes. My great aunt was Kathrine O’Malley’s daughter. She’s the one who inherited the house after Walt Marlow died.”
“Yes, I know who Kathrine O’Malley was. She used to bring her daughter into the Bluebell for breakfast on Saturday mornings. Little girl loved her pancakes.”
“You remember her?” Danielle wondered how that was possible; it had been so many years.
“I remember many of the regulars from the diner. Of course, it’s easier to remember the O’Malley woman, with her inheriting all that money from Walt Marlow and dying so soon after marrying the brother-in-law.”
“Roger Calvert,” Danielle said. Lily sat quietly and listened.
“You know, it’s been years since I talked to anyone about what happened back then. Seems all that people remember these days is what they’ve been told to remember. But those things we’re told usually aren’t what really happened. When a body lives over a hundred years and you see things for yourself—firsthand—when you live them—then you see things differently. How they really were.”
“Like how Walt Marlow reportedly died?” Danielle asked.
“I don’t believe the man killed himself. Never did. Not when that no account brother-in-law of his lied about being in Frederickport the day he died.”
Their conversation was interrupted for a moment when Mathew returned to the patio carrying a tray with three glasses of lemonade. He set the tray on a side table and handed a glass to each woman. Emma waved away her glass, telling Mathew to drink it. He gave a little chuckle and sat down next to his grandmother, glass in hand. Before they continued with their conversation Lily and Danielle thanked him for the beverages and each took a sip.
“So you did see Roger Calvert returning from Frederickport?” Danielle asked.
“How did you know about that?” Emma asked.
“I read some old newspaper articles about Walt Marlow’s death. You were mentioned in a couple of them.”
“His car broke down. Had to wait for the mechanic,” Emma said. “I’ve thought about it a lot during the years. I don’t for a minute think he intended to go back to Frederickport that day but when he ran into someone he knew, he had no choice but to pretend he had just arrived, and was on his way into town.”
“Why did you recant your story?” Danielle asked.
“Hal Tucker—he was on the local police department back then—he paid me a visit and told me I shouldn’t be meddling in white folks’ business. That if I knew what was good for me I needed to keep my mouth shut.”
“Did you ever consider going to his superior officer and tell him Tucker threatened you?” Lily asked.
Emma looked at Lily and laughed, shaking her head at the foolish question. “Wouldn’t have been a smart thing for me to do. Tucker reminded me I was in Oregon illegally.”
“I don’t understand.” Lily frowned.
“During that time it was illegal for blacks to live in Oregon,” Mathew explained.
“What are you talking about?” Danielle asked. “What do you mean illegal?”
“The state voted against slavery, but it didn’t mean they wanted us here as freemen. If someone brought slaves into the state, they were required to free them within a certain time frame—and the freed slave had a certain amount of time to leave Oregon before facing a whipping—or indentured service,” Mathew told them. “I believe the laws were still on the books until around 1926.”
“I had no idea,” Danielle said. “I’ve always thought of Oregon as being a very liberal state.”
This time Mathew laughed. “I’m not sure where you got that notion.”
“I guess because Portland is so…so…” Danielle searched for the right word.
“Ah yes, Keeping Portland Weird—not quite the same thing.” Mathew chuckled and then added, "The Klan was also pretty active in Oregon during the Marlow incident.”
“That surprises me.” Danielle shook her head in disbelief.
“So how did you live in Oregon if it was illegal?” Lily asked.
“My grandparents arrived in Oregon as slaves. When they were freed they didn’t leave,” Emma explained. “We weren’t welcome here, but my parents were born in Oregon, and so was I. So were my children. It was our home.”
They were silent for a few moments. Danielle tried to comprehend what she had just heard.
“Why would Tucker want you to lie?” Lily asked, breaking the silence.
“I know he and Roger Calvert were fishing buddies. They used to stop in the diner on the weekends for breakfast.”
“He was covering for his friend?” Danielle said.
“I imagine that was part of it. Plus he was sweet on Roger’s sister, and at the time he probably figured the little gal was coming into the Marlow fortune.”
“But what about when they discovered Angela was dead?” Lily asked.
“He was probably like the rest of the town; assumed Roger was inheriting the Marlow fortune, what with his sister gone.” Emma rocked back in her chair.
“Do you think Tucker was involved?” Lily asked.
“Never really got that impression,” Emma said. “Always had the feeling he liked the idea of having a man with that kind of wealth in his pocket. Not that Roger Calvert had any money, but he would have—had he been Marlow’s heir. Of course, that didn’t quite work out for him, since Kathrine inherited.”
“Did you ever tell anyone about the officer threatening you?” Danielle asked.
“No, I wasn’t stupid,” Emma scoffed.
“Why are you so interested in something that happened almost ninety years ago?” Mathew asked.
“Marlow House is my home now,” Danielle explained. “I suppose I feel some obligation to Walt Marlow.”
“They say he hung himself, right?” Mathew asked.
“Yes,” Danielle said. “But if he didn’t—if he was murdered—I’d like to set the record straight.”
“I don’t understand how my grandmother can help you prove he didn’t commit suicide.”
Danielle explained the old newspaper articles she’d read mentioning his grandmother and how she had witnessed Roger Calvert coming from Frederickport on the day he told authorities he was coming from Portland.
“I suppose you don’t actually have to prove your theory, since it’s not like you’re going to take anyone to court,” Mathew said.
“That’s pretty much what I was thinking. I just want to present some reasonable doubt concerning Walt Marlow’s supposed suicide.” Danielle then turned to Emma and asked, “How did you know the officer was sweet on Angela?”
“Hal Tucker? I learned early on I’d best be keeping my mouth shut if I didn’t want to attract the attention of someone who didn’t take kindly to a person of color,” Emma explained. “That meant I had more time for listening. When those two would come in for breakfast Roger used to tease Tucker about being sweet on his sister, and the man never denied it.”
“What about the mechanic?” Lily asked.
“Mechanic?” Danielle turned to her friend.
“You guys mentioned Roger had to spend the night and see the mechanic. Weren’t they worried the mechanic would contradict Roger’s story?”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Danielle murmured before looking at Emma.
“The mechanic was Mathew’s grandpa,” Emma explained.
“He was your husband?” Danielle asked.
“We hadn’t been married long. Emmett—my husband—didn’t want to get involved and told me to keep quiet. I was pretty strong willed back then and when the reporter stopped in the diner I told her about seeing Roger Calvert. I didn’t mention the mechanic was my husband, and she never asked. After Tucker talked to me, Emmett was pretty angry, so I recanted my story.”
“Did the reporter ever talk to your husband?” Danielle asked.
“After she talked to me she stopped by the garage, but he told her he didn’t know what she was talking about. After that, it was pretty easy to convince her I got confused.”
“Do you remember anything else about Roger Calvert—anything else about that day?” Danielle asked.
“Just that he was real agitated. He was in a hurry to get back to Portland. Of course he didn’t return to Portland after Emmett fixed his car. He went back to Frederickport. At the time I didn’t know Walt Marlow had been killed. I’d seen Roger Calvert before, noticed him when he came in with Hal Tucker, when the two would go fishing. I knew he was Marlow’s brother-in-law; the Marlows were a well known family in the area.”
“It’s amazing you can remember it all,” Lily said. “It was so long ago.”
“I’ve thought a lot about it over the years,” Emma said. “Troubled me to think Roger Calvert may have gotten away with murder. Eased my conscience a bit when he was killed within a year after Marlow. I figured the good Lord had his own way of dealing with the man’s sins.”
“I’m planning to put together an article on Walt Marlow’s death that will suggest he didn’t kill himself but was murdered. I would like your permission to include what you’ve told me today—about why you recanted the story,” Danielle asked Emma.
“You have my permission. But, not sure people will care after all these years.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Adam Nichols and Bill Jones entered the grounds of Marlow House from the back alley. Adam didn’t want his mother’s tenant to notice he and Bill were lurking around the property. Before picking up Bill, he’d parked along the highway, watching for Danielle’s car to pass by. He wanted to make sure she’d taken Lily with her. Once he was certain Danielle and Lily were safely on their way to Astoria he picked up Bill. Instead of driving to Marlow House, Adam drove to one of his vacant rentals about a block away. After parking his car there, he and Bill walked the rest of the way.
• • • •
On the parlor sofa, Walt focused his attention on the flat screen television as it repeatedly switched channels. When it landed on something that interested him, Walt would watch for a while before changing stations again.
Danielle had called it channel surfing. He thought that a peculiar term and couldn’t quite understand what surfing had to do with rapidly changing channels on a television. It made absolutely no sense to him. She had also pointed out that people typically used a remote, whereas he used…what did he use? He wasn’t quite sure how he did it.
He had just settled on a show to watch when he heard what sounded like glass breaking in another part of the house. Turning toward the doorway, he willed the televisi
on to turn off. He moved effortlessly from the sofa toward the sound, and in the next moment he was in the library.
“What the hell did you break the window for?” a man asked as he gingerly reached through the now broken window to unlock its latch and before sliding it open—careful not to cut himself on the jagged glass. It took Walt just a moment to recognize the man. He was Marie Hemming’s grandson, Adam Nichols.
“What are you doing breaking into my home?” Walt boomed.
“It wasn’t my fault. I was trying to jimmy it open,” the second man said.
Walt recognized the second man, but couldn’t recall his name. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard it. He just knew this was the same man who had accompanied Adam to his house when Marie’s grandson delivered the box of old photographs.
“Well dammit, I was planning to use the door, not climb through the window.”
“Maybe you can’t hear me, but I promise Danielle will hear about this!” Walt fumed.
“You have a key?” Bill asked.
“No, I don’t have a damn key,” Adam said as he climbed through the window. “But I was going to pick the lock.”
“You could’ve told me that,” Bill grumbled as he followed Adam through the window. “This sure would have been easier if we had started looking before that Boatman woman and her friend moved in.”
“Why are you here? Dammit, hear me! Hear me, I insist!” Walt fumed.
“I like this room,” Adam said as he looked around, dusting his hands off on the sides of his slacks. He walked to the closest book shelf and began pulling books off the shelf, one by one. After inspecting each book, he placed it back on the bookshelf and grabbed another one.
“Are you going to stand there or are you going to help me?” Adam asked impatiently.
“What are you doing?” Bill asked.
“People often hide things in books. Haven’t you ever seen those boxes that look like books? They’re hollow inside. A perfect way to hide something in plain sight,” Adam said as he continued to examine the books.