by Laura Landon
“What if he doesn’t believe me?”
“Then that will be his decision. You will have done your duty. The rest is up to him.”
Ginny placed her hands over her face and tried to compose herself.
“You have to go to the inspector with what you know. And you have to do it now. Before you become ill.”
Ginny took a sip of her tea. “You’re right, of course. I’m just so frightened. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Ginny shook her head. She couldn’t tell Della what had happened. Ginny knew her sister would think Ginny was as mad as their mother had been. “No. I need to go by myself.”
“Then go,” Della said, helping Ginny remove the apron the three of them wore while at work, then holding out Ginny’s bonnet and gloves. “Go now. You’ll feel better when you’ve spoken to the inspector.”
Ginny nodded, then headed for the door.
She knew she’d be lucky if the inspector didn’t transfer her to Bedlam when she told him that his cousin spoke to her from the grave. And that she’d spoken to her on more than one occasion.
Ginny walked to Inspector de Wolfe’s office on legs that threatened to buckle beneath her. She reached out to open the door with a trembling hand, then made her way to the inspector’s office where she was greeted by his secretary.
She tried to think positive thoughts, but she knew before she was shown to the inspector’s office that this was going to be one of the worst days of her life.
. . .
Will sat behind his desk trying to figure out what excuse he could use to call on Ginny Wattersfield again. There was something that drew him to her. Something about her warm yet vulnerable openness that he found endearing. He experienced a connection to her that baffled him. He’d never felt this way about anyone. Never felt the pull to anyone like he did to her.
But more than that, she knew something about Lizzy she wasn’t revealing. Perhaps if he went to visit her again, he could find out what that was. Perhaps if she got to know him better she would tell him what she knew.
Will closed the file he’d been studying and prepared to rise when a knock on the door stopped him.
“You have a visitor, Inspector.”
Will raised a questioning gaze.
“Miss Virginia Wattersfield.”
Will experienced a rush of anticipation. “Show her in, Randolph. And bring tea.”
“Yes, sir.”
Randolph moved aside to allow Virginia Wattersfield to enter.
The first detail Will noticed was the lack of color in Miss Wattersfield’s face. And her taut features. She looked at him through haunted eyes, and the smile he’d seen on her face when he’d visited with her earlier was nowhere to be seen.
“Miss Wattersfield. Please, come in.”
Will walked to her and reached for her hand. Her fingers trembled in his, and even through her gloves he realized her hands were like ice.
Will brought her into the room and showed her to a chair. Instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat in a chair next to her. “Something’s wrong,” he said without a preliminary greeting.
She lowered her head then nodded. Her eyes filled with wetness and before she lifted her head she had to brush at the tears that spilled over her lashes.
Randolph brought in a tea tray and poured Miss Wattersfield a cup of tea. Will took the tea, not sure the lady could hold a cup of liquid without spilling the contents.
For some reason he couldn’t explain, the weight she carried was a burden he wanted to take from her shoulders. He wanted to take her in his arms and make it disappear. Such an urge was completely foreign to him.
“Do you need anything else?” Randolph asked.
“No, Randolph. I’ll call if I do.”
“Very good, sir.”
A few moments later he heard the door close behind Randolph and he knew they were alone. “There’s no hurry, Miss Wattersfield. Take your time. We have all day.”
She lifted her chin and looked at him through tear-filled eyes.
Although he’d noticed that her eyes were blue when he first saw her, their blueness was even more striking with tears puddled against them. And today he also noticed the deep gold of her hair.
Her features were delicate, with pale freckles that dotted her upturned nose. Not a single blemish marred her lovely face. Miss Virginia Wattersfield was pure perfection.
He waited, and eventually she reached to take the cup from his hands. He felt reassured as she took a small sip, then placed the cup on the corner of his desk.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she said.
Her voice was husky with emotion, and she dabbed at the wetness with a handkerchief she retrieved from her reticule. She took a deep breath that lifted her shoulders, then turned to face him.
“I need your help, Inspector. I didn’t know who else to go to.”
“You came to the right place, Miss Wattersfield. I will gladly assist you in any way I can.”
Miss Wattersfield lowered her gaze to her hands clenched in her lap and took in a shuddering breath.
“Are you in some sort of trouble?”
She shook her head. “This isn’t about me.”
“Then who?”
She turned her head and lifted her gaze so that she faced him. “I don’t expect you to believe me. In fact,” she said clenching her fingers harder, “I actually expect you to think that I am insane.”
“You are hardly insane, Miss Wattersfield.”
The corners of her full lips lifted slightly. “I wish I were as sure of that as you seem to be.”
“Why don’t you tell me what this is about, and why you doubt your sanity? Start with who this concerns.”
Will watched her struggle to begin. He knew, as often happened with people he was interrogating, they felt that once they began, there would be no going back. He also realized how terrified she was that he wouldn’t believe her.
“Before I begin, I’d ask that you know that I don’t understand what happened any more than you will. The only fact I’m sure of is that it did happen. I didn’t just imagine it.”
Will sat back in his chair and waited. It took several moments, but at last Virginia Wattersfield began.
“I didn’t tell you everything about the visit I made to St. Dunstan’s cemetery a few weeks ago.”
“How many weeks exactly?”
“Well, two, or two-and-a-half, I believe. I visit my mother’s grave regularly as I explained earlier, but on that occasion, I was late getting to the cemetery. A heavy fog blanketed the area, and by the time I left, I could scarcely see my hand in front of my face. The fog was that dense.”
She paused, and Will noticed the rise and fall of her shoulders when she took a deep breath. “Go on, Miss Wattersfield.”
“Because I was in a hurry to get home, I took a different route than usual. I was hurrying through the cemetery when someone spoke to me.”
She closed her eyes as if she were losing her resolve. Will knew he needed to encourage her to resume. “Did you recognize the speaker?”
She shook her head. “I turned in the direction the voice came from, but I couldn’t see anyone. The fog was so thick that it didn’t really surprise me. I waited, thinking the speaker would call out again. But it…she didn’t.”
“What did the speaker say?”
“The voice said…” Miss Wattersfield hesitated.
“Go on.”
“The voice said, ‘Help me. Please, help me.’”
Will frowned. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?”
She shook her head. “No one was there.”
“What did you do then?”
“I continued walking from the cemetery. But the voice called out to me again.”
“What did the voice say this time?”
“She said ‘Find my killer. Don’t let him go free.’”
Will rose to his feet. A dozen thoughts raced
through his mind. The most prevalent was that the lady was playing some kind of joke on him. Perhaps she was insane.
Of course he didn’t believe her. But he remembered the tears she’d shed, and the trembling of her small body. She’d truly been frightened. She hadn’t faked such a violent reaction. He was sure of that.
Will took a few steps away from her, then turned to face her. He decided to let her play this out to see where she went with her preposterous story.
“What did you do then?”
“I followed the voice. It was coming from a grave off the path.”
“Did the voice say anything else to you?”
She nodded. “She said, ‘He’s not what he seems.’”
“Who’s not what he seems?”
“I don’t know. I was too terrified to think straight. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I called out that I knew the speaker was playing a cruel trick and I turned to walk away.”
“What happened then?”
“The voice called me back and repeated her plea.”
“Did you see anyone this time?”
She shook her head. “No. There wasn’t anyone there. But I followed the voice until I knew where it had come from.”
“Where was that?”
“The voice came from your cousin’s grave. From Elizabeth de Wolfe’s grave.”
Chapter 5
He didn’t believe her.
Ginny looked at the shock and disbelief on Inspector de Wolfe’s face and knew he questioned her sanity. But she’d known that would be his reaction before she decided to come to him. How could he think anything different? Her story was impossible.
At first she was embarrassed. She shouldn’t have come here. She shouldn’t have revealed something so unbelievable. She shouldn’t have expected him to believe her. And yet…
Before she could allow her embarrassment to overwhelm her, a flash of anger sliced through her. One look at the doubt and disbelief on his face and she realized she’d made a horrendous mistake in thinking she could confide in him.
Ginny rose and hurried toward the door. She wanted to escape his incredulous expression. Somehow it bothered her that he might think less of her. Although why his opinion of her should matter she didn’t know. But it did.
Tears blurred her vision as she reached out to open the door. But before she could turn the knob, his arm stretched past her and held the door closed.
“I don’t think you’ve finished telling me everything,” he said, refusing to move.
“And I don’t intend to.”
“Why?”
She turned to face him. She was forced to suck in a harsh breath. He stood so close to her that she had to lift her gaze in order to look him in the eyes. He stepped back as if he realized how intimidating his nearness was.
“It’s obvious you don’t believe me,” Ginny countered. “But I knew you wouldn’t.” Her shoulders sagged. “I daresay, I wouldn’t believe such a preposterous tale either.”
Every ounce of courage and strength Ginny had mustered before she came to see the inspector rushed from her as swiftly as a crashing wave might wash back out to sea. She suddenly felt as weak as a newborn lamb and her legs buckled beneath her.
Before she could reach out for something to steady herself, his arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close to him.
“Steady, Miss Wattersfield,” he said, leading her to her chair. “There’s nothing to fear. “
“I’m not afraid,” she said after she sat. “I feel foolish. I should have known not to come. I should have known…”
Ginny couldn’t finish her sentence. What she wanted to say was that she should have known he wouldn’t believe her and she would rather keep what had happened to herself than tell him and diminish his opinion of her. But it was too late now.
The inspector pulled his chair closer to her and kept her hands in his. “Is that why you went to the newspaper? To gather information about Lizzy?”
Ginny nodded. “Everything was as I said. I didn’t know about your cousin’s death. I was truly shocked when I realized she’d died.”
“Then you went back to the cemetery.”
Ginny looked up.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I saw you. I was there. I thought perhaps you’d return to the cemetery and you did. Did you hear Lizzy’s voice that day, too?”
Ginny nodded. “I’ve heard her in total three times.”
“Does she always say the same thing?”
“Mostly, yes. She wants me to help find her killer.”
The inspector released her hand and rose from his chair. He walked to the window and stood with his back to her, his hands locked behind his back as he stared out onto the street below. He was somber, unmoving.
There was something dauntingly powerful about him as the light from the window silhouetted him in an ethereal glow. Something remarkably formidable. And Ginny was suddenly unnerved by his commanding presence.
She waited several long minutes, hoping that he would speak. But he didn’t. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Her question came out as an accusation.
“I am trying to,” he answered. “I want to, but…”
The inspector slowly turned. The regret she saw on his face gnawed at a place deep inside her chest. Their gazes locked for several moments before she fully grasped the futility of her visit. It was as if coming here had severed a blossoming relationship. Now that she’d exposed her frailty, she’d ruined any hope of a continued friendship.
A small, sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth. A smile of defeat.
Ginny gathered her cloak around her and stood. “Thank you for your time, Inspector. I realize how foolish I sound to you, but…” Ginny walked to the door. This time the inspector didn’t move to stop her.
She reached for the knob on the door and pulled it open. She took one step into the room beyond the inspector’s office then turned. “Hopefully you will discover who killed your cousin, Inspector. Your cousin sincerely hopes you do, which is why I came to you. Her last words were tell my knight to find the man who killed me.”
Ginny softly closed the door behind her and passed the desk where the inspector’s secretary sat. She was eager to escape into the sunlight and put this humiliating experience behind her.
She knew how foolish she’d been to expect anyone, especially Inspector de Wolfe, to believe she’d heard his cousin’s voice, but how could she ignore Lizzy de Wolfe’s pleas for help? How could she keep Elizabeth de Wolfe’s warnings to herself?
Ginny replayed her words in her mind and couldn’t help but doubt her own sanity. Even though she didn’t doubt what she’d heard, she realized she could never tell anyone ever again of her experience. Nor could she return to the cemetery where Elizabeth de Wolfe was buried. She was determined to never hear her voice again. That was the only hope she had that she’d be able to forget this nightmare.
Ginny walked steadily ahead until she reached the outside door. She hadn’t yet opened the door when the inspector’s booming voice reached her.
“Stop, Miss Wattersfield!”
Ginny turned.
“What did you say as you left? The last words you heard Lizzy say?”
Ginny shook her head. “It no longer matters, Inspector. I don’t intend to bother you any further with my preposterous story.”
“Tell me! Tell me the last words the voice said to you!”
The harsh insistence of his words gained her attention. The inspector’s angry steps as he ate the distance that separated them startled her.
His arms reached out when he was near enough to her and he grasped her by the shoulders. “What did the voice say?” he repeated.
“She said tell my knight to find my killer.”
“She used the words my knight?”
“Y… Yes,” Ginny stammered.
The inspector dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back from her. The whispered words that fell from his lips thundered in her ears as she w
atched the man’s countenance turn ashen.
“Oh, my God!”
. . .
Will stared at Ginny Wattersfield. He dared to use her most informal, most intimate name, for that is how he thought of her. He’d frightened her, although he’d had no intention of it. It was just that she’d said the last words he expected her to say. She’d told him that the voice he didn’t believe it was possible for her to hear had told her to tell Lizzy’s knight to find her killer. And he was that knight. Had always been Lizzy’s knight. She’d called him that from their earliest childhood.
“Please,” Will said, looking from Ginny Wattersfield’s pale face to Randolph’s alert stance. “Please, come back. I need to speak with you.”
She hesitated—not that he blamed her—but finally walked toward him. When she reached his office door, Will stepped back to allow her room to enter. Without turning to his secretary he summoned him. “Randolph, I want you to hear this, too.”
When Ginny and Randolph were in the room, he led her to a chair. “Please, sit down, Miss Wattersfield.”
Will stepped to his desk, but he was too agitated to sit. He turned to Randolph. “Miss Wattersfield has some important information concerning my cousin’s death.”
Randolph’s eyebrows lifted.
“This might be difficult for you to accept,” he said to his secretary, then stopped with a slight grin on his face. “No, this will be difficult for you to accept, but please, hear her out with an open mind.”
Randolph’s eyebrows rose higher.
“Miss Wattersfield has been in contact with my cousin.”
“In contact?”
“Yes. Lizzy has spoken to Miss Wattersfield from the grave.”
Randolph’s disbelieving gaze passed from Will to Miss Wattersfield, then back to Will.
“I have to admit,” Will said, keeping his gaze locked with that of his secretary. “I was more than skeptical at first, and still am, although several remarks Miss Wattersfield made are causing me to revise my opinion. Especially the last words she claims Lizzy said to her.”
Will turned to Ginny. “Tell Mr. Randolph the last words Lizzy spoke to you.”
“She told me to tell her knight to find her killer.”