Lindsey was beginning to fear that they would be here well past dinnertime, and the hankering for a piece of fried fish with a pile of fries and a mound of coleslaw was beginning to be all she could think about. Her stomach growled, really loudly, and she glanced up to see Sully smiling at her.
She felt her face heat up, and then she whispered, “When we get out of here, I am ordering the biggest pile of fish and chips you have ever seen.”
In answer, Sully’s stomach growled as well. It surprised a laugh out of Lindsey, and he gave her a rueful glance.
“I’m with you on that,” he said. “I swear I could eat a pile of broccoli right now, and I despise broccoli.”
“I loathe zucchini,” she confessed. “But, yeah, I’d eat a plate of it right now.”
“Brussels sprouts,” he said. They both made gagging faces.
“Peas,” she said.
“Peas?” he asked, looking alarmed. “Who doesn’t like peas?”
“Me,” she said. “They’re gross. The texture is nasty.”
“Well, that settles it, then,” he said. “You can never get seriously involved with the Englishman, since I think mashed peas are a staple of the English diet.”
“Bleck,” she said. He grinned, and, like always, her heart cartwheeled in her chest. “Besides, there’s a more important reason why I can never belong to Robbie.”
“Do tell,” he said.
“My heart belongs to another. It always has,” she said.
They sat silently staring at each other, and then Sully was leaning in close, and she knew he was about to kiss her.
Knock, knock!
Sully jerked back, and Lindsey felt her eyes go wide. That was the signal. The two knocks that they had agreed Milton would tap on the door when a person was spotted coming into the historical society.
They both sat motionless, afraid to make even the slightest rustle of clothing, lest they alert the person to their presence. Lindsey strained to hear, and she knew Milton was facing the door between them when his voice was as clear as if he were in the room with them.
“Why, Mr. Hodges, good evening,” he said. He sounded as surprised as Lindsey felt.
Then again, she supposed it was silly of them to think that no one else from town might stop into the historical society that evening, especially Hodges and Perkins, who were probably still scouting for collectibles while waiting for Emma to give them the go-ahead to leave town, which she would have thought Emma would have done once they caught Steven Rosen-Grant.
She glanced at Sully. He was frowning, and she suspected he was thinking the same thing she was. She had a moment of panic that whoever was looking for the heir to the Rosen estate would come in and Hodges could find himself in the middle of something he hadn’t anticipated, but maybe they would get lucky and his request would be a small one and he’d be on his way quickly.
“Hi, Mr. Duffy. Please call me Calvin,” he said.
“Milton,” he returned. Lindsey wondered if they were shaking hands. “Where’s your partner, Mr. Perkins?”
“Kevin is back at the bed-and-breakfast, packing our things,” he said. “It seems we’ve finally been given the okay to leave town.”
“Excellent. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your shop,” Milton said.
“More than you know,” Calvin said. He gave a chuckle that sounded forced.
Lindsey glanced at Sully and saw his eyebrows go up. So he heard it, too.
“So, was there something I could help you with?”
“Yes, actually,” Calvin said. He cleared his throat before he continued. “There was an item in the Gazette this evening that caught my attention.”
“I’m sure Saul, the editor, will be pleased to hear it,” Milton said.
“Have you read it today?” Calvin asked.
Lindsey heard someone, Milton, she suspected, cross the room to the window. There was the sound of the drapes being moved aside.
“No, I’m afraid not. There’s my box of Gazette issues out on the steps. I’ll have to remember to get them before it snows. What was of special interest to you?”
“Actually, there was a bit of information in the cover story about Peter Rosen’s murder that I am hoping you can verify.”
“I’ll do my best,” Milton said.
“It said there was another heir to the Rosen estate in addition to Stewart and Steven Rosen-Grant. I need you to tell me who it is.”
Lindsey reached over and grabbed Sully’s hand and squeezed it hard. It was the only thing she could think to do to keep from crying out.
Calvin Hodges, the collector? He was the one who had been trying to get rid of the Rosens? But why?
“Oh, that,” Milton said. Lindsey heard him walk around the room, and she suspected he was positioning himself so that his great big desk was between him and Hodges.
Sully had pulled out his phone and was firing off a text to Chief Plewicki. It was the only way they could think to let her know what was happening without making any noise. He also sent one to Ms. Cole. She was their backup. She was to call the police and make sure Emma got the text message from Sully.
“Yeah, that,” Calvin said.
“I’d really like to help you,” Milton said, “as I’m sure a man in your occupation is interested in who owns a house packed to the rafters with odds and ends, some of which are undoubtedly worth a fortune, but I can’t give out that information. I have to respect the person’s privacy. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do. I definitely do,” Calvin said. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you tell me.”
There was a tense silence coming from the room. Sully slipped his phone into his pocket and put his hand near the doorknob. Lindsey knew he was getting ready to jump out and assist Milton if it was needed.
“What’s it to you?” Milton asked.
It was the first time Lindsey could ever remember hearing him sound like an ornery octogenarian.
“It is everything,” Calvin said.
There was a note of sheer desperation in his voice. What could be so important about the Rosen house that would make a collector from Chicago sound terrified?
“I’m sorry,” Milton said. His voice was almost kind now, and Lindsey knew he was reacting in his usual soothing way to the fear that was pouring off of Calvin Hodges like a sour smell.
“Not at the moment, you’re not, but I imagine you will be.”
It was a new voice, a woman’s. Lindsey felt Sully’s gaze on her and turned to look at him. He mouthed the name she had suspected all along. Evelyn Dewhurst.
“I ask you to do one thing, Hodges, one thing. Lord, you are incompetent. No wonder you’re about to lose your business,” she said.
“I was handling this,” he snapped. “And you can stop acting so high and mighty. You wouldn’t know anything about anything if I hadn’t told you the night we met at the Anchor.”
“Oh, but I am high and mighty, and you know it,” she said. “Milton, I want the name of the remaining heir to the Rosen estate, and I want it now. I don’t have the time or inclination to play games with you, so give me the information and I won’t have to have Hodges hurt you . . . much.”
“It was you two,” Milton growled. He sounded so angry Lindsey almost didn’t recognize his voice. “You’re the ones who knocked me down outside the library. You were trying to get to Stewart, weren’t you?”
“What did you not understand about me not having time for this?” Evelyn asked. “Tell me who the remaining heir is before Hodges beats it out of you.”
“Wait, I never agreed—” Hodges protested.
“Oh, do shut up!” Evelyn snapped. “What did you think was going to happen tonight? You know what the endgame is. Now stop being such a sniveler.”
“I never agreed to hurt anyone,” Hodges argued.
“Didn’t you?” Evelyn asked. “Didn’t we both?”
There was the sound of rustling, and then Milton let out a yip. Lindsey had
her hand on the knob and was about to turn it when Milton shouted, “A gun, Evelyn? Really? How unladylike.”
Sully put his hand over Lindsey’s and stopped her. Milton’s shout had been to alert them to the new level of danger on the other side of the door.
“If we startle her, she might shoot him by accident,” Sully breathed in Lindsey’s ear.
She nodded that she understood, but she was terrified that something would happen to Milton before they could get to him.
“Wait for it,” Sully said. Lindsey knew he was using all of his naval combat training to pick the right moment to bust out of the file room.
“It is a bit brutish,” Evelyn conceded. “But it got your attention, didn’t it? Now the name, please.”
“No.”
“Then I’m afraid you give me no choice,” Evelyn said. “Shall I start with your kneecaps and work my way up?”
That was the first time Lindsey ever understood the term all hell breaking loose.
In one motion, Sully was up, the door was shoved open and he sprang past Lindsey into the room, where he took Evelyn down at the knees, grabbing her gun as she went.
Lindsey raced into the room after him and hurried to Milton’s side.
“Are you all right?” she asked. She hugged him tight.
“I’m fine,” he said. He hugged her back. “Just fine.”
Sully rose to his feet, pulling Evelyn up after him and shoving her into a chair. He had the gun, and he motioned for Calvin to take the chair beside her.
“You killed Peter Rosen, didn’t you?” he asked.
Evelyn looked away while Calvin shook his head from side to side.
“No, I had nothing—”
“Shut up, you idiot,” Evelyn said.
“Did you kidnap Stewart and kill him, too?” Lindsey demanded.
“No!” Calvin answered. “I swear!”
“SHUT UP!” Evelyn shrieked, and she hit him with her right fist like a hammer to the sternum, making Calvin double over and suck in a breath.
“Where is Stewart?” Sully asked. Evelyn stuck her chin up in defiance and turned her head away.
“I don’t know,” Calvin wheezed. “We tried to grab him that night at the library, but he was too fast for us.”
“Who shot at Steven today?” Milton demanded.
Evelyn continued with the stony silence, and Lindsey felt her patience snap.
“Judging by the fact that she owns a gun and clearly knows how to use it, I think it’s a safe bet that it was Evelyn,” she said.
A tick of her lips was Evelyn’s only response, but it was enough.
“I imagine she is the one who killed Peter Rosen as well,” she said. “Really, Evelyn, all to own an island? And what did she promise you, Calvin, all of the contents if you’d just help her get rid of the current residents?”
Calvin was still clutching his chest, but his face became mottled with a red rash of shame that bespoke his guilt more clearly than a confession.
“You killed my brother?”
The voice was soft, no more than a whisper, but everyone heard it. All eyes turned to the doorway where Stewart Rosen stood, holding a shotgun that was aimed right at Evelyn and Calvin.
“Stewart!” Lindsey cried.
He looked rumpled and disheveled, but otherwise he seemed okay. In fact, compared to the last time she’d seen him, he looked surprisingly fit with a healthy color to his skin and not nearly as exhausted, plus he wasn’t humming.
“I’m going to kill you,” Stewart said. He lifted his shotgun and pointed it at Evelyn and Calvin. It was the first time she lost her composure, and she did it spectacularly.
“You can’t! It would be murder!” She glanced at the others in the room. “You’re witnesses. If he kills me, it is murder and he’ll go to jail for the rest of his life.”
“What does it matter?” Stewart asked. “You’ve taken away my brother. Who do I have left?”
“I didn’t,” Evelyn said. “I didn’t take him away, I swear.”
“You killed him!” Stewart yelled. There was a crazy light in his eyes, and Lindsey felt her heart seize up in her chest. He was going to shoot Evelyn, and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it.
“No!” Calvin said. “He shot himself. He committed suicide.”
“You’re lying,” Stewart said. “Why would he do that? Why would he shoot himself through the chest?”
“Because he was trying to hurt himself,” Calvin said. His voice broke when he continued, “Because he wanted to die slowly and painfully to punish himself for killing his father.”
The silence that descended upon the room had the density of a shroud. For Lindsey, it was the final turn of the screw that made everything fit right and tight.
“So, that’s what happened,” she said. She glanced at Stewart.
“No, it didn’t! It was a boating accident. It wasn’t his fault,” Stewart said. “My brother would never take his life. He would never leave me. He was my best friend.”
“I know this is hard, Stewart, but we have to be honest here. Too many lies have caused too much damage, don’t you think?” Lindsey said.
He looked at Lindsey, clearly desperate to understand why his brother would commit suicide.
“Your brother was in love with Betty Beller, wasn’t he?” she asked.
Stewart’s lips tightened, and he nodded. “We all were. She was so different from . . .”
His voice trailed off, and Lindsey assumed he meant his mother but didn’t have the heart to say it.
“Stewart, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Betty was involved with your father, and she had a child, a little girl named Gabrielle,” Lindsey said. “She grew up and had a little boy named Steven, Steven Rosen-Grant. He would have been your father’s grandson.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Stewart said. Lindsey opened her mouth to protest, but Stewart shook her off. “No, my father wasn’t his grandfather. Peter was.”
“What?”
Steven Rosen-Grant stepped into the room followed by Chief Plewicki, on crutches, and Detective Trimble.
Stewart started at the sight of him. Standing across from each other, the resemblance was uncanny.
“Drop the gun, Stewart,” Emma said. She glanced at Sully and added, “You, too.”
Sully turned the handgun so that the handle faced out, and he held it out to Trimble, who checked the safety and put it in his coat pocket.
Stewart was not nearly as cooperative. His hands shook as he kept the shotgun trained on Evelyn and Calvin. But he glanced out of the corner of his eye at his grandnephew.
“My father couldn’t have children,” he said. “When we were kids, we had the mumps and my father caught it. He had wanted more children, but he was infertile after that. Naturally, he blamed my mother. When Betty arrived, he took a shine to her, and it was clear that he thought she was his for the taking.
“He planned to prove his fertility by getting her pregnant. He pursued her relentlessly, right in front of my mother. It soon became clear that he and Betty were having an affair. When it was discovered that she was pregnant, my mother had an episode. She was convinced my father would divorce her and leave her penniless while he started a new life with Betty. But then, my father discovered Peter and Betty in bed together . . .”
His voice trailed off as he revisited what had to be a horrible, horrible memory.
“What happened?” Steven asked. His gaze was intense upon his uncle’s face, as if the next words uttered would determine the course of his life forever.
“My father went a little crazy,” Stewart said. “Even though a storm was coming, he demanded that Peter take the sailboat out with him so they could discuss this like real men.”
Stewart flinched, and Lindsey could only imagine how terrified he must have been for his brother.
“I went to try to talk my brother out of going,” Stewart said. “I wanted him to hide until my father’s rage passed, but when I got to his room, my mot
her was there. She told him that the only way they could have what they wanted was for my father not to come back. She told him, ‘You know what you have to do.’”
“Oh no, no, no,” Steven cried, and he sank to his knees. “I didn’t know that. He never said . . . I didn’t know that he was my grandfather. I thought he was my granduncle. When Grandma Betty died last year, I found his name in her address book, so I wrote to him to let him know. I thought, uh, I thought he might care enough to get in touch with me, and he did. I didn’t tell him who I was, at first, and when I did, he told me not to use the name Rosen on my return address or his brother would get suspicious. I thought he was trying to keep me away to deny me my heritage.”
“But you kept corresponding with Peter and discovered that the Rosens owned a very exclusive piece of real estate that was a treasure trove of stuff, so you enlisted the help of Perkins and Hodges to evaluate what you decided was your rightful inheritance.” Lindsey knew she sounded harsh, but the story being revealed was just one bit of reprehensible behavior after another.
“Yes, Steven emailed me, saying he was Peter Rosen,” Calvin said. “By the time I figured out who he really was, we were already here.”
“How did you figure it out?” Steven asked Lindsey.
“You’re both from the Chicago area,” she said. “How else could Perkins and Hodges have heard of this place? Besides, neither Peter nor Stewart used computers or cell phones or tablets. How could they have emailed Perkins and Hodges? It had to be you, Steven, pretending to be Peter.”
“I just thought it was time to collect what was rightfully mine,” Steven said. “Peter told me about the key in the music box and that his mother had hidden papers at the bank, papers about Grandma Betty. I thought if I could get to the safe-deposit box, I could prove I was a Rosen and that part of the estate rightfully belonged to me.”
“Well, it seems your desire to redo the past is something you have in common with Mrs. Dewhurst,” Lindsey said.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evelyn said. “I am leaving now.”
She made to get up, but Emma shook her head. “Sit down.”
A Likely Story Page 23