“It will all be over soon,” Victoria assured her.
Elizabeth scraped up the last morsel of eggs. “Sorry for piling my bitching on your shoulders, Gram. Actually, it’s pretty exciting to be part of a presidential visit.” She pushed her chair back and was about to stand. “Here I am, talking about my day. How was yours?” She sat again. “Any progress? I had to leave before you finished talking to the grand-heirs. Anything come of your meeting?”
“It’s difficult to know,” said Victoria. “I want to talk to Arthur again. I’m curious to know what his reaction will be when he learns that Dr. Mann is the father of Jane’s baby daughter.”
“Why?” asked Elizabeth.
“He’s fixated on Jane Douglas, seems to see her as a kind of Madonna-like figure. He’s convinced she’s a grieving widow, but Jane has never been married.”
“You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“I think Arthur knows something he hasn’t told anyone, hoping to protect Jane. Hearing that her daughter is Dr. Mann’s, he may divulge some critical information.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” said Elizabeth. “Let someone else be the one to tell him.”
“Who would be better than I?” asked Victoria with some asperity.
“Gram, you’re right. You are the best.” She reached over and patted her grandmother’s shoulder. “Would you like me to take you to Snake Hollow?”
Victoria was not mollified. “Thank you for offering, but I’ll get a ride with Bill O’Malley.”
* * *
“Sure, Victoria,” said Bill O’Malley when she called him that night. “Let me know when you plan to meet with Morgan and I’ll be happy to chauffeur you.”
CHAPTER 43
Victoria awoke the next morning to a brilliant day. She’d called Arthur Morgan, who seemed pleased to hear from her. He’d be delighted to have her visit again that afternoon, he said. She lined up her ride with Bill O’Malley.
O’Malley parked the dump truck at the upper reaches of the narrow drive and this time walked Victoria the rest of the way up the hill. Arthur met them at the foot of his steps with Dog by his side. Dog was wagging his tail, his tongue hanging out, dripping.
“Howdy,” said O’Malley in his good-old-boy persona. He held out his hand and he and Arthur shook. “Nice to meet you.”
Arthur nodded at the dump truck parked some distance down the hill. “Great vehicle you have there.”
“Not so great on Vineyard access roads, though. Got to get back to work. See you in an hour or so, Mrs. Trumbull?”
Victoria smiled at the sudden formality.
Arthur held the door for her. “Come on in, Mrs. Trumbull. You got a friend here in Dog. I made iced tea again.”
“I couldn’t resist returning to see your beautiful rhododendron.”
“Well, then you can sit in the same place you did the other day where you get a good view.”
After exchanging pleasantries about the rhododendron, the beautiful weather, O’Malley’s superb dump truck, and Dog’s appreciation of her, they sat for a few minutes, drinking iced tea.
Victoria was wondering how to broach the subject of Jane’s daughter, when Arthur brought it up first.
He was sitting across from her on Dog’s chair. He leaned forward. “You said you visited Jane the other day and met her daughter.”
“What a delightful baby. She seems very bright.”
“I’ve only seen her from a distance. Jane is a good mother.”
“She certainly seems to be,” said Victoria.
“It’s tough having to work when she ought to be with her daughter.”
Victoria reached for her glass of tea. “Fortunately, she has her wonderful nanny to watch the baby.”
“I saw someone at the house, figured it was a babysitter.”
“More than that,” said Victoria. “I believe Abigail was Jane’s nanny when she was a little girl.”
“Is that right? I had no idea.” He fiddled with his own drink.
Victoria, still wondering how to bring up the subject of the baby’s father, decided to keep the conversation going and see what happened. Arthur clearly liked talking about Jane. “The house belonged to Jane’s grandparents and Jane came here every summer as a child.” She continued to hold her glass and took a few sips of iced tea.
“I saw her around summers,” said Arthur. “Classy lady even as a teen.” He drank from his glass and set it down on the crate table. “She told me she inherited the house. High-rent district, right on the harbor like that. Taxes must be astronomical.”
“It’s a shame that family houses have gotten so valuable family members can’t afford to keep them,” said Victoria. “I don’t think she makes a very good salary at the clinic.”
“That’s for sure. Minimum wage. She’s a well-educated lady, too. She should be working someplace where they appreciate her.”
“I’m sure they appreciate her at the clinic.”
“Not hardly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Dr. McBride, her boss, makes it clear she doesn’t like her. She’s doesn’t treat her bad or anything. Just aloof.”
Victoria nodded. “Yes, I could sense that.”
“And Mrs. Wilmington, she was vicious.”
“In what way?”
“Well, always belittling Jane, putting her down, nothing Jane did was right. Always picking on her.”
“Why?”
“Who knows. You could tell Dr. Mann liked Jane and that seemed to bother Mrs. Wilmington.”
“And you think that’s why she picked on Jane?”
“Sure. It was unfair, because Jane wouldn’t have anything to do with Dr. Mann. She was all business. Totally professional.” He looked over at Dog, who was dozing by the window, stretched out in the warm pink light filtering through the blossoms. “But all Mrs. Wilmington could see was Dr. Mann trying to make up to Jane. She was a nasty one, Mrs. Wilmington was. Good riddance, I say. Life is a lot easier for Jane now she’s gone.”
“You told me the other day that Jane’s husband was killed in a plane crash. When did that happen?”
“Well, it must have been before her daughter was born, so I guess that would be about two years ago.”
“How did you learn about him and the plane crash?”
He scratched his head. “I don’t know.”
“Do you know his name?”
He shook his head. “I assumed it was Douglas.” He stopped. “Come to think of it, that was her name when she summered here.”
“Did you know her then?”
“I knew who she was, all right. But I didn’t travel in her circles, that’s for sure.”
Victoria decided this was the opportunity to set things straight. “When I met with Jane, she told me she’d never been married.”
He set down his glass. “That’s not so, Mrs. Trumbull. She has a daughter. You must be mistaken.”
Victoria suddenly felt as though she was trespassing into swampy territory. She turned toward the window. “You’ve done marvels with that rhododendron in just a few years. Do you fertilize it?” She turned to him.
He was staring at her. “She told you she never married?”
Victoria nodded, feeling increasingly uneasy about the way Arthur was staring at her.
He stood up. “Jane told you that? Herself?”
“Yes.”
He continued to stare at her.
Victoria could hear the hum of bees working, could see them bustling in and out gathering nectar. The blossoms quivered with their activity. His stare was disconcerting her. She’d probably learned all she could for now.
He said, “I wonder why she said that to you.” He took a step toward her. Victoria looked at her watch. “I think it’s time for me to go now.”
Arthur looked at his own watch. “Your driver won’t be here for another quarter hour.” He sat down again. Then got up and paced the room.
“Jane wouldn’t lie.
”
“I think you’re right,” said Victoria. “She wouldn’t.”
“She’s such a saint. So pure.”
“You know, Arthur, many people have children these days without marrying. There’s no longer a stigma attached to unwed parents.”
He sat down again and rested his forearms on his knees. Over by the window, Dog lifted his head and looked over at his master. He got up, stretched, padded across the room, and laid his head on Arthur’s knee. Whined. Arthur patted him absently.
“I’m afraid I’ve given you news you didn’t want,” said Victoria. “It’s not bad news, Arthur. Jane is still the same person you’ve always cared about.”
“No, she’s not,” said Arthur.
“Yes, she is,” said Victoria.
“Who was the father? Does she know?”
“Of course she knows.”
“Who was it? Did she tell you?”
“I don’t think it’s a secret.” Victoria thought for a few moments about what she should divulge and how she should do it. “The baby is the very image of her father.”
“Someone I know?” demanded Arthur.
“I believe it explains Mrs. Wilmington’s attitude toward Jane.”
“What are you talking about, Mrs. Trumbull?”
Victoria shifted to a more comfortable position on the lumpy couch. Why had she gotten herself into this conversational predicament? She looked at the pink blossoms. She watched the bees. She could see in the distance beyond, a hawk soaring. She turned back to Arthur.
“I’m sure she suspected Jane had a daughter.”
“Jane tried to keep her private life private, but it’s hard to do that on this Island.” He patted Dog’s head. “So why should the old bitch, excuse me, give a damn?”
“Didn’t the clinic’s staff speculate that Mrs. Wilmington was the birth mother of Dr. Mann?”
“Yeah. Well … Oh my God!” He stood pressing his hands to his forehead. “Mann!” He turned back to Victoria. “Jane and Mann?”
Victoria nodded.
He returned to his chair and slumped back into it, hands still pressing his forehead. “What a fool I am.”
“I’m so sorry, Arthur. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Yes. Yes, you should.” He slapped his hands against his forehead. “What a fool I am. I suppose everyone knows but me.
“I don’t think anyone else knows. Just you and me.”
“And Dr. Mann and Mrs. Wilmington and Sam and all the rest of them.”
“Dr. Mann, yes. But Jane’s a private person, Arthur, as you know.” Victoria searched for the right thing to say. She hadn’t done too well so far. “You mustn’t take it so hard, Arthur.”
“After all I did for her.”
“She appreciated how kind you were giving her the ride home that day.”
“No, no, Mrs. Trumbull. You don’t understand.”
Suddenly, Victoria did understand. “Mrs. Wilmington?” she asked gently.
He laid his head in his hands and nodded. She couldn’t see his face.
“You did that for Jane. Took care that Mrs. Wilmington would never torment her again.”
He nodded.
“Arsenic,” Victoria said. “It was easy to put it in the relaxant Dr. McBride gave her to drink.”
He nodded.
“How did you make sure that only Mrs. Wilmington, no one else, would drink it?”
He mumbled, head still in his hands. Victoria could barely make out what he was saying. “Sealed bottle. Dr. McBride had drawers marked for each of her patients. She had a drawer marked for Mrs. Wilmington.”
“I suppose you sealed it up again before Dr. McBride gave it to her to drink?”
“I sealed it again, yes.”
“When the lab was cleaned, you were able to discard the bottle.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get the arsenic?”
He looked up. “You remember Gifford’s store?”
“I do. It was where we got our kerosene.”
“When their grandkids cleared out the store I bought a lot of old stuff.”
“Including arsenic. I see. I can remember my grandfather used to buy arsenic to kill rats in the barn. It was sold quite commonly when I was a girl and a young woman.”
Victoria felt as though she was in a dream. Should she be afraid of this man who’d just confessed to murder? She wasn’t. She felt pity for him. Was he likely to kill her now that he’d confessed? She didn’t think so.
“It must be a great load off your mind to tell me this,” she said. “You thought you were doing the right thing for Jane.”
He leaned forward, head down, hands dangling between his knees.
“Did you think she heard something in that phone call?”
He repeated it. “She heard something in that phone call.”
“Did you think the caller told Vivian you had poisoned Mrs. Wilmington?”
“I know Vivian knew, from the way she was acting.”
“Did you think she would tell someone what happened?”
“I knew she would.”
Victoria took a deep breath. “How did you know where to find Vivian?”
“After I took Jane home … Jane!” Hands to his face.
“Did you go back to the clinic?”
He spoke as though in a trance. “I drove along the harbor, thinking of Jane. Her baby…” He looked up.
“And?” prompted Victoria.
“When I came to the liquor store I saw Vivian’s car.”
“Was she in the car?”
“No. She was standing by the harbor, that skirt of hers blowing up around her, looking off into the distance.” He stopped.
“And you grabbed something and hit her on the back of the head.”
“My rifle. From the gun rack in my pickup.” He glanced up at Victoria. “She never knew what hit her.”
Suddenly he stood. “I did it for Jane.” He swung around. “Jane, the whore!” He stumbled to the door, shoved it open, stepped off the porch, climbed into his truck, and slammed the door behind him. The truck started up, backed around, and sped down the dirt track spewing sand, gravel, grass, and oily smoke behind it.
He’d killed twice. Jane was in danger and she had to warn her. She had to find a phone. As she was searching, a familiar blue Jeep pulled up in front of the cabin. It had to be Lockwood. What was he doing here? She felt a surge of relief. He could help her. She would ask him to follow Arthur, who most certainly was headed to Jane.
Lockwood got out of the Jeep, limped around to the front, and leaned against the hood. His right arm was in a cast that went from his thumb partway to his elbow. His right eye was swollen almost shut.
Victoria charged down the steps and clambered into the Jeep. “Thank heaven you’re here. How did you find me?”
Lockwood stared at her. “Where is she? Where are you hiding her?”
Victoria, forgetting her granddaughter and thinking only about Jane, said, “Arthur is after her. We’ve got to get to her, right away. Hurry!”
“Arthur? What are you talking about?” Lockwood limped around to the driver’s side.
“She in that house?”
“No, we’ve got to get to her.”
He climbed in, grimacing with pain. “Where is she?”
Victoria was out of breath from rushing down the steps. “Main Street, Vineyard Haven. No time to explain.”
“There’d better be a good explanation.”
“Hurry!” said Victoria. “He’s going to kill her!”
Lockwood, jarred into action, started up the Jeep, shifted into gear left-handed, and tore down the hill, sideswiping O’Malley’s blue dump truck, which was about to turn up into the drive.
“Don’t stop!” Victoria waved at O’Malley and in the side rearview mirror saw the dump truck back up into a dirt entry road side road and turn to follow them.
“This better be good, Victoria.” Lockwood hunched over the wheel, steering with h
is left hand. “Who’s Arthur?”
“Can’t talk.”
“I saw you get into that damned dump truck and I followed you here. Where is she?”
“Hurry!”
“Damnation, Victoria, I’m going sixty-five in a forty-five mile zone. You want to get stopped for speeding?”
The dump truck was on their tail.
Victoria clung to the door handle. “Left onto Main Street.” Her short white hair blew about her face. Her eyes watered. Wind streaked tears down her cheeks. Traffic was backed up from the Bunch of Grapes Bookstore.
“Do something!” said Victoria.
Lockwood snapped at her. “Want to get out and walk?”
Victoria let go of the handle and brushed hair out of her eyes, the tear streaks off her cheeks. “It’s my fault if anything happens to her. I pushed him too far.”
“Are you losing your mind, Victoria?”
A car backed out of a parking place. Another car pulled into it from the line of traffic. Traffic moved again. Lockwood shifted awkwardly into gear. Pedestrians stared at the blue dump truck on his tail. They passed the library.
“Turn right,” said Victoria. “Down the hill.”
Arthur’s truck was at the bottom of the hill, heat waves rising from the hood.
Lockwood stopped behind the truck. “That his?”
“The house on the left,” said Victoria.
Lockwood limped toward the house. Victoria, right behind him, glanced over her shoulder.
The dump truck had ground to a stop behind the Jeep. O’Malley hiked up his jeans, ran a hand through his hair, grinned, and gave Victoria a thumbs-up.
“Better be an explanation for all this,” muttered Lockwood.
“Pray we’re not too late,” said Victoria.
CHAPTER 44
Jane was bathing Davina in the bathtub, sloshing warm water over the baby’s golden hair and holding a hand against her forehead to keep water out of her eyes when someone pounded on the door.
“Can you get it, Abigail?” Jane called out.
Davina said, “Ducky?”
Jane fished the duck out from behind a wall of bubbles. “Here’s your duck, honey.”
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