A Broth of Betrayal

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A Broth of Betrayal Page 15

by Connie Archer


  “I don’t know if that’s good news or not. As horrible as that would be, at least we’d know where she is.”

  “I know this is rough for you, but try to stay calm. I’m sure there’ll ultimately be an explanation. We’ll find her.” Lucky was certain she detected a note of uncertainty in Nate’s voice. He was a cop, after all. He’d seen his share of bad things, and even he couldn’t deny that a missing person was a very bad thing.

  “I’m at Elizabeth’s. I came by to take care of Charlie and I found something that might be important.” Nate waited silently on the other end of the phone while she relayed the information in the letter from the State Bar.

  “You just found this tonight?”

  “Yes. On the floor under the mail slot. It must have come in the post today.”

  “Is there a contact person or number on that letter?”

  “It’s signed by a Sarah Atkinson, Case Manager. Her number is . . .” Lucky glanced at the top of the letter and recited the telephone number to Nate.

  “I’ll call that woman first thing tomorrow and find out what kind of difficulty Rod is in. More importantly, how does this concern Elizabeth?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering too.”

  “When you go, just leave it on the desk. I’ll stop over tomorrow and pick it up.”

  “Okay. Just be careful not to let Charlie out.”

  “Will do,” Nate grumbled.

  Lucky clicked the button and dialed Sophie’s cell phone next.

  “Where are you?”

  “At Elizabeth’s. Taking care of Charlie and just checking around. Found something kind of interesting. I’ll fill you in later. Did you have any luck with the neighbors?”

  “Not much. A woman two houses away thought she saw Elizabeth four or five days ago, driving away. She couldn’t remember the exact day. That was about eight thirty in the morning. It could have been the morning of the demonstration but she’s not entirely sure. Elizabeth must have been on her way to the office.”

  “I saw her next-door neighbor as I was coming down the drive—Enid. She says she saw Elizabeth pull out of the driveway the morning she didn’t arrive at the office.”

  “Oh yes. I spoke to her too. She was sure Elizabeth was alone. She didn’t see anybody with her, or anybody in her car.”

  “She never got there, Sophie. And her office is less than five minutes away. What could have possibly happened between here and there?”

  “Maybe she wasn’t going there right away. She must have taken a detour to do an errand.”

  “I’ve thought about that, but where could she have been going that early in the morning?”

  “Maybe she stopped at the market to pick up groceries, or the pharmacy?”

  “The market’s right in the center of town. Somebody would have seen her. And Flagg’s Pharmacy doesn’t open till nine thirty anyway.”

  “Listen, is there anything I can do tonight? I’m at Sage’s, soaking my feet. I’ve been walking the woods with a group of searchers, but we can come over to your place if you’d like some company.”

  “No, that’s all right. I’m stopping over at Horace’s next. He wants to show me his finds. I’m just hanging out a little while to keep poor Charlie company.”

  “Okay. Call me if you need anything at all. Sage and I can take turns with Charlie too. I’m sure Elizabeth wouldn’t mind if we were at her house.”

  “She wouldn’t at all. Especially if you’re taking care of Charlie. He’s her baby.”

  She clicked off the call and sat for a moment petting Charlie. She pushed away the thought that Elizabeth might be beyond caring about her house or her cat.

  Chapter 24

  HALF AN HOUR later, Lucky pulled into the driveway of her parents’ home, Horace’s home now, only a half mile from Elizabeth’s. She turned off the engine and listened to the chirping of crickets. A car engine came to life somewhere on the road. She breathed in the cool, humid night air. Several lights were on inside the house. She grabbed the bottle of wine she had brought along for the visit and rang the front doorbell. A strange feeling to be a visitor in the home she had always known, once so familiar, and now no longer hers.

  Horace had fallen in love with the house the minute he had seen it. In a former life, it had been a barn, and was still painted deep red. A center peak and high window betrayed its origins, and the wings of the house extended from either side. After her parents’ death, she wasn’t able to return there to live. The shock had been too great and too many fresh memories haunted her. Besides which, living here had been out of the question. She couldn’t afford it, not with the Spoonful being hit hard financially, and she couldn’t have sold the house for what it would have taken to pay the mortgages. When Horace came to town and wanted to rent it on a long-term lease she was thrilled. The house had found the right person.

  She rang the bell once again but didn’t hear Horace’s footsteps approaching. She knocked loudly and waited. No one came. Strange, she thought. Horace had specifically said this evening and she had agreed. It wasn’t like him to forget. She turned away and walked to the side of the house. Stepping carefully in the dark, she peeked in a few of the windows but couldn’t see Horace. Could he have stepped out for a few minutes? But where would he go? His car was parked outside. Surely he wouldn’t have gone into the woods after dark. She continued to the rear of the house. She reached a window that allowed her a view of the spare room next to the kitchen. Horace had converted this space to an office. She couldn’t see the desk from where she stood, but papers were strewn all over the floor. That wasn’t like Horace. He was obsessively neat and organized when he worked.

  She stepped away from the window and looked behind her. The familiar woods now loomed dark and foreboding. At the back, the light over the door was lit, as was the kitchen light. She peeked through the window of the door. The kitchen was deserted. She was certain Horace wasn’t inside. She left the bottle of wine on a back stair and walked to the edge of the grass nearest the trees. She called Horace’s name, her voice carrying on the warm night air, and peered into the woods. Either her eyes were playing tricks or there was a flicker of light deep within the trees. Something was very wrong.

  She called Horace’s name again and slipped through the trees heading to the spot where the light shone. Twigs and dry leaves crunched under her sandals. Her foot caught on a tree root and she almost stumbled. She reached a small clearing that she knew well and found the source of the light. A flashlight lay on the ground, its beam aimed at a tree trunk. She picked it up and turned slowly, aiming at the dark spaces, afraid that someone could be lurking in the shadows. The moon was only a thin sliver in the sky. Inside the trees it was pitch-dark. She shivered, suddenly aware of how alone she was. An owl hooted in the distance and a small creature scampered through the undergrowth. She whipped around, aiming the flashlight at the sound. Her eye caught something out of place. She moved closer. It was cloth, a dark cloth, and something brighter. She aimed the flashlight. Plaid material—a shirt. Horace’s shirt. He was behind a large pine tree, splayed on the dead leaves and pine needles. Her heart leaped to her throat. The image of Harry Hodges lying in a pool of blood flashed before her eyes.

  Lucky knelt and placed a hand on his neck. His skin was warm. She shook his shoulder gently. “Horace.”

  He groaned and his eyes fluttered open.

  “Horace, what happened?’

  “I . . .” He tried to roll to his side but winced in pain. Lucky dropped the flashlight and guided him slowly into a sitting position.

  “I don’t know. Someone was calling . . .” He touched his head and winced in pain again. “I went to see what was wrong.”

  “Let’s get you back to the house. Can you stand up?”

  “I think so.” He struggled to his feet and reached out to a tree trunk for balance.

  Lucky took his arm to guide him, shining the flashlight on the path before them. When they reached the house, she picked up the bottle of win
e she had left on the step and led Horace inside to a kitchen chair. She locked the kitchen door. “Let’s have a look at you.”

  Horace held a hand to the back of his head.

  “Does that hurt?”

  He nodded. “Yes. A bit.”

  “Did you fall and hit your head?”

  “I think I must have. I tripped over a tree root and went flying.”

  “Horace, what were you thinking to go into the woods at night?” she asked gently.

  Horace took a deep, shaky breath. “I heard someone calling. It was faint but it sounded like a woman. I’m not sure now but I thought she was saying, ‘Help me, help me.’” Horace looked up. “Lucky, I didn’t imagine it.”

  “The song of the siren.” Lucky shivered. “No, I don’t think you imagined it. Too many weird things have been happening lately. But all the same, if you ever need anything or you’re worried about anything, just call me or call Jack. We’d come out immediately to help you.”

  “You’re right. I guess it was foolish. But I thought someone was in trouble.”

  Lucky nodded. “After what happened to Harry, I think we should report this to Nate.”

  “Oh,” Horace groaned. “I really don’t want to bother Nate. He has enough to deal with.”

  “Horace, listen to me. What if this is connected to Harry’s murder?”

  Horace’s eyes widened. She was getting through to him. “I see what you mean. All right. If you insist, I’ll call Nate tomorrow—first thing.”

  “Let’s call him right now. If we don’t, we’ll have to listen to a lecture about not calling him immediately.”

  Horace sighed and nodded slowly. “You’re probably right.”

  Lucky picked up the phone on the kitchen wall and dialed Nate’s cell phone. He answered on the first ring. She quickly filled him in on Horace’s condition.

  “You did the right thing. I’ll be there in twenty,” Nate replied and hung up. In the background, she heard Susanna Edgerton, Nate’s wife, questioning him about the call. She was sure Susanna, like everyone else in town, was on edge.

  “I don’t think you should be alone out here, Horace. Not after this. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay here tonight. I can sleep on the sofa, or even better, you could stay at Jack’s. He wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, he’d enjoy the company.”

  “Oh, there’s no need to put your grandfather out. I’ll be fine. You’re certainly welcome to stay if you like but there’s no need to worry about me. Maybe it was just kids fooling around in the woods.”

  “I hope that’s all it was.” Lucky doubted the explanation was that simple. This house was a mile outside of town. All the years that she had lived in her parents’ home, she had felt isolated from the teenage hangouts in town until she was allowed to drive. Now Horace was here all alone. “I’d feel better if you had a dog.”

  “Me? A dog?”

  “Sure. Why not? They’re wonderful company and a dog would be sure to alert you if someone was prowling around. Sit still. I’m going to check your scalp.” Lucky carefully examined Horace’s head but could find no blood. The skin wasn’t broken but a large egg was starting to form on the back of his head. “Can you look up? I just want to check your pupils.” Flashlight in hand, she aimed the light at Horace’s eyes, first right and then left. “Try not to blink.” Horace obediently complied. “Okay, your pupils are normal. But since that’s the extent of my nursing skills, you might still have a concussion. Ask Elias to check you tomorrow.”

  She found a dish towel in the drawer and soaked it in cold water. Then she broke open a tray of ice cubes, wrapped them inside the towel and banged the bundle against the old porcelain sink until the cubes were smashed. “Here, hold this at the back of your head. It will help. And I’ll pour us some wine.” She uncorked the wine and poured a small glass for herself and a much larger one for Horace.

  “Thank you, my dear. If you hadn’t found me . . .” he trailed off.

  “You most likely would have come to and found your way back, but all the same, I’m so glad I happened to come by. I think you need to have a look around as soon as you can. I peeked through the window and someone’s made a big mess in your office.”

  “What? Oh no. All my work.” Horace stood quickly and swayed a bit. He grabbed onto the back of the chair for balance. Spotting Lucky’s concerned look, he managed a smile. “I’m all right. Really I am.”

  “I think the goal was to lure you away from the house.”

  “Oh my. I hadn’t thought of that. But why? I don’t have any valuables, and only a little bit of cash in the house. I can’t imagine why I would be a target.”

  He walked somewhat unsteadily toward the office. Lucky followed, watching him carefully for any sign of imbalance.

  “Look at this!” Horace surveyed the disarray. “Why would anybody do this?” He started to bend down to reach papers on the floor and stopped midway.

  Lucky took his arm and led him to an armchair. “You sit here. Keep holding the ice to your head. It must be throbbing.”

  He followed her direction and watched as Lucky moved around the room, picking up books and papers and laying them in neat piles on the desk. One of the desk drawers was slightly open. “Horace, what do you keep in here?”

  “Why, nothing, just supplies. Except . . .” Horace’s face turned gray. He stood and moved quickly to the desk. He opened a deep drawer on the left side of the desk and pulled out a cardboard box. He lifted the lid and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens this is safe.”

  Lucky looked over his shoulder. Horace very carefully picked up the bundle of cloth inside. He gently laid the contents on top of his desk and unwrapped the covering to reveal a powder horn, the one found with the skeletal remains. “Look at this. Isn’t it amazing? It has some damage but you can see the beautiful, smooth patina. They very carefully cleaned this at the University. See? Here is Nathanael’s name and the carving of his family’s home.” Horace’s finger traced the pattern in the air above the horn. “This one is about eleven inches in length and its base is just under three inches. It would have held perhaps three quarters of a pound of black powder. Here is Nathanael’s prayer—‘may this powder kepe saf my home.’”

  “So sad, to think these men died so young.”

  “What’s sad is that nothing at all has changed. Young men and women are still dying. We can’t seem to keep peace on our planet.” Horace sat down heavily in the desk chair. “But . . .” He smiled broadly. “Here’s the really interesting bit—the one that so upset Cordelia Rank.” Horace pulled the center drawer open and retrieved a small box. A delicate velvet box that a jeweler might use. He placed it next to the powder horn and looked up at Lucky. “Wait till you see this.” He gently pulled the lid open. Lucky stared at Horace’s stricken face.

  The lead ball was gone.

  Chapter 25

  LUCKY AWOKE TO a vibration at her hip. Her phone was buzzing in her skirt pocket. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, and then the events of the previous night came rushing back. She was in her parents’ home. She hadn’t wanted to leave Horace alone in the house, afraid that whoever had attacked him might come back. She had slept in her clothes, wrapping herself in a blanket and falling heavily asleep on the sofa. She was exhausted to begin with, and the glass of wine had helped put her to sleep. Horace’s snores could be heard even now through the closed door of the bedroom, while outside noisy birds were making a cacophony in a nearby maple tree.

  She reached down and fished her phone out of her pocket. Sophie. She had overslept.

  “Where are you?”

  “Sophie! Sorry. I meant to set my alarm. I’m at my Mom’s house—Horace’s. I’ll explain when I see you. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Hurry up then. I brought coffee today.”

  Lucky clicked off and rubbed sleep from her eyes. She folded the blanket and laid it neatly on the sofa, then used the bathroom, splashing water on her face to help her wak
e up. She found a pad of paper in the office and quickly wrote Horace a note. Leaving it on the kitchen table, she slung her purse over her shoulder and slipped out the back door, making sure it locked behind her.

  The night before, Nate had arrived within minutes of Horace discovering the loss of the lead ball. Nate was of the opinion that if someone had rummaged through the desk and found the box, they might have opened it, thinking it could be a valuable piece of jewelry. It was possible the lead ball could have fallen out and rolled away into a corner. They had all searched the room, but found nothing. Nate theorized that perhaps someone had been in the house and Lucky’s arrival frightened them off. She recalled hearing a car engine start when she had pulled into the driveway. Had that been someone escaping the scene? Perhaps this was nothing more than a simple robbery. If someone had wanted to steal the lead ball, then why hadn’t they taken the powder horn and shoe buckles found with the remains? Lucky couldn’t argue with Nate’s logic. He might be right. But who would choose this house when it was so obviously occupied? And who lured Horace into the woods in order to enter the house? That didn’t sound like a simple robbery. Whoever broke in must have known what they were after.

  She climbed into her car and drove as fast as possible back to town and her apartment. Sophie was waiting in her car outside Lucky’s apartment building, leaning against the headrest with her eyes closed. Lucky tapped on the window. Sophie’s eyes flew open. She glanced over and hit the door lock. Lucky climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Here.” Sophie passed her a warm thermos.

  “Thanks.” Lucky poured coffee into the small plastic top of the thermos and sipped.

  “Why were you at Horace’s?” Lucky filled Sophie in on the events of the night before.

  “Whoa. That’s weird.” Sophie shuddered.

  “I think someone wanted to lure him out of the house. It could even have been more than one person. One to call to him and another to get into the house.”

 

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