Conspiracy of Silence

by Martha Powers

  Her quest for information was a two-edged sword. Although she wanted information about her parents, she was finding some of it hurtful. She supposed she should have expected that. A person is not murdered by someone who loves them. All sorts of negative emotions build until there is an explosion and violence.

  Clare stayed for another half hour, letting Bianca talk about what a circus it had been at the time of the murder. There wasn’t anything new, just a rehash of the articles she’d read. Having had enough, she changed the subject and asked after Bianca’s garden. After a tour of the new plantings, Clare was able to get away.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon preparing the dinner and then carefully carried everything to the car. After several trips back and forth, she locked up the house and drove over to Nate’s. He apparently had been watching for her because he came to the door before she was out of the car.

  “You smell wonderful,” he said as he opened the car door. “Just like chicken.”

  “Be careful when you get the tray out of the backseat. It’s hot.”

  “You look pretty hot yourself.”

  Heleaned over and kissed her on the mouth just as Erika came through the front door. The girl scowled at Clare, coming over to stand beside her father.

  “Hi, Erika. I hope you’ll like the dinner.”

  She might not have responded if Nate hadn’t nudged her.

  “I’m sure I will,” she said, her voice a monotone.

  “I’ve got the hot tray,” Nate said. “Can you help Clare with the rest, Erika?”

  Instead of a comment, she nodded and went to the passenger side and reached in for the basket Clare had set on the floor of the car. Clare caught the flash of anger on Nate’s face and shook her head to indicate it was nothing.

  “That’s good, Erika,” she said. “I can get the rest.”

  Once the food was inside, Erika disappeared.

  “I’m ready for a drink,” Nate said. “I hope my daughter’s behavior doesn’t send you running?”

  Clare laughed. “I’m taking it as a compliment that she sees me as a threat. Even so, I’d like a tall cold white wine.”

  Nate poured her wine and himself a Scotch while she put the casserole in the oven to keep it warm. He pulled out a stool for her beside the counter and brought out cheese and crackers. He leaned against the counter and asked her how the lunch had gone. Clare told him what Bianca had told her about her mother.

  “Do you believe it?” he asked. “And if you do, does it make any difference?”

  “When I was growing up Rose used to harp on the fact that I had to act like a lady. She wouldn’t let me date until I was a junior in high school. Oh, I could go out with a bunch of kids, but never alone with a boy.” Clare sipped her wine. “She told me that men weren’t to be trusted and that I had to be particularly careful because I was morally weak.”

  “That’s an awful thing to lay on a kid. I suppose that was when she told you about being a changeling. By the way, I keep meaning to ask to see that mark on your shoulder.”

  He leered across the counter at her.

  “Never before dinner,” Clare said. “Keep your mind on a higher plane. I used to be self-conscious about it until I was in high school. A friend of mine was rebelling and went all satanic. She saw themark when we were changing for gym and she thought it was the coolest thing going. She thought I’d gotten a tattoo.”

  “That would certainly change your perspective. Instead of wearing a devil mark of shame, you were now just a rebellious teenager.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but I suspect you’re right.” Clare laughed. “It’s so easy to look back and see things differently. I can’t believe all of what Bianca said about Lily. From Jimmy Newton’s letter and the pictures, I’m convinced he was desperately in love with Lily.”

  “In love enough that he would have married her if she were carrying someone else’s child?”

  Clare shook her head. Getting off the stool, she paced across thekitchen floor. “I don’t know. Maybe. Would you?”

  “In those days an out of wedlock baby was a disgrace. I think if I loved someone enough I’d want to save her from shame.”

  Clare moved restlessly then stopped in the center of the room. “It never occurred to me that Jimmy Newton might not be my father.”

  “Would it make a difference?”

  “Emotionally, no,” Clare said. “On the positive side I wouldn’t have to live with the fact that my father had murdered my mother.”

  “If you go back to the letter Jimmy left you, it’s obvious that he thought of you as his child. It was obvious that he loved you.”

  “Then why did he kill my mother?”

  The words burst out of Clare and she slapped the palm of her hand onto the counter. Nate pushed away from the refrigerator where he was leaning and put his arms around her.

  “That’s something you might never know,” he said.

  Nate held her close, feeling the tension in her body ease. He could not imagine the kind of emotional turmoil she must be going through. He was trying to restrain his own physical involvement with her, knowing that she was in such a vulnerable state. For the moment, all he could do was be there for her. A support at least, although he would prefer to be more.

  “Is dinner ready yet?”

  Nate jumped at Erika’s voice in the doorway. Clare pushed away from him and moved across to open the oven door. Watching the blank expression on his daughter’s face, he wondered how long she’d been standing there and what she might have heard.

  “I’m sure it’s hot enough,” Clare said. “Pot holders?”

  “The drawer on your left,” Nate said. “If you’d get the salad outof the refrigerator, Erika, I’ll get the salad bowls.”

  Nate kept Erika busy trying to give Clare a chance to recover. He was so intent on watching his daughter that he overpoured a glass of milk and watched in annoyance as it dribbled down the front of the cabinet. The accident seemed to cut through the tension, and soon both Erika and Clare were warning about spilling other things.

  Once they were served, he asked Erika about the movie she’d seen while they were at the farm show. He pretended he didn’t understand the plot and that led to additional teasing.

  “You missed the smashing display of tractors,” Clare said. “Your father was drooling over several of the old ones and I wouldn’t be surprised if he bought one. He could drive you to school on the back of a lovely red tractor.”

  “He dragged me to the show last year. How lame could it be?” Erika grimaced.

  “Some people think tractors are sexy,” Nate said. “In fact there used to be a hot country song about that. Maybe I can get Debbie and Margaret to work up a clogging routine for that song.”

  “Very funny. Did you remember I have practice tomorrow?” Erika said.

  “I thought you had your writing class tomorrow and clogging on Wednesday?” Nate said.

  “I have writing in the morning, but I have clogging right after that, Dad. The rehearsal schedule was changed because we have the show on Friday afternoon at the Itasca Nursing Home. Thursday we’re going to Bemidji to see Aunt Susie.”

  “No wonder I can’t keep your schedule straight. In any case, I’ve got to go to Duluth tomorrow.”

  “Dad!! You said you’d take me to practice and then we’d go to Bovey for pizza.” Erika flung herself against the back of her chair and folded her arms over her chest.

  “I’m sorry, Erika, but I got my days mixed up. I was going to ask Cindy’s mom if she could pick you up after your writing class and I’d stop for you on my way back from Duluth.”

  “Cindy’s leaving the writing class early tomorrow. She’s got an orthodontist appointment. I told you that already, but you never listen to me,” Erika whined.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Nate said.

  “If it would help, I could take you to the class,” Clare said. “I’ve been really looking forward to seeing you clogging .
. .”

  “Clog. See me clog,” Erika interrupted ill-humoredly. Nate cleared his throat and her face reddened. “Sorry for being crabby, Clare. I was just so looking forward to going for pizza.”

  “I could take you for pizza too. Is it the thin crust or pan pizza?”

  Nate was pleased that Clare had offered and was anxious to see if his daughter would accept. It would be a major breakthrough if she did.

  “It’s thin crust,” Erika said after a momentary pause.

  “They don’t put pineapple on it, do they? I hate that.” Clare’s mouth puckered to show her disgust.

  Erika’s eyes widened at the funny face and she giggled. “I hate pineapple too.”

  “Then it’s a date,” Nate said, before either of them could reconsider.

  The rest of the meal went off peacefully. Although Erika didn’t chatter as much as usual, he could see that she was getting a little more comfortable around Clare. His daughter warmed up considerably when dessert was served. He was glad that he’d told Clare that Erika’s favorite treat was chocolate éclairs. When Erika excused herself, Nate sighed, relieved that the evening had gone so well. He and Clare were clearing the table when he heard Erika’s shout.

  “Come look, Dad.”

  Nate and Clare hurried to the family room where Erika was watching television.

  “Someone got killed at the Farm Show,” Erika said. She turned up the volume on the TV.

  “. . . was found earlier today but the information was not released until the body was identified. Heavy rains during the evening delayed the clean up after the Farm Show. Andrea Solderitch, supervisor of the county park crew, made the sad discovery at one thirty Monday afternoon.”

  The camera panned across the fairgrounds, showing footage of the Farm Show. Suddenly a photograph appeared on the screen.

  “The victim was identified as Margaret Robinson, a resident of Deer River, fifteen miles west of Grand Rapids.”

  Nate heard Clare gasp, then felt her hands grasp his arm.

  “It’s her, Nate. It’s Margee.”

  S

  Chapter Fifteen

  “It’s Margee. Rose’s friend,” Clare said, her voice barely above a whisper. Clare couldn’t take her eyes off the picture of the woman she had seen once in the grocery store and once at the Farm Show. Even after the screen shifted to a reporter in Grand Rapids, she could still see the woman’s face.

  “According to the sheriff’s office it was a freak accident. Miss Robinson appears to have tripped while entering a storeroom at the exhibit hall and hit her head against a concrete wall. The blow must have knocked her unconscious. The cut was deep and she bleed to death. The coroner’s office announced that the death occurred sometime Sunday, either in the afternoon or early evening.”

  Behind the reporter, Clare could see a cement block structure with several police cars and an ambulance beside it.

  “That building is right next to where the main tent was,” Nate said, putting his arm around Clare for support. “She was in themain tent when you saw her.”

  “You knew her?” Erika asked, jerking around to stare at Clare. “You saw her that day?”

  “Hush, Erika, we need to hear this.”

  Erika opened her mouth to argue then pressed it shut in a thin line of anger. Without a word, she stormed out of the room.

  “A resident of Deer Lake, Minnesota, Miss Robinson had volunteered to help out at the Farm Show. She was born in Grand Rapids, and lived there for almost thirty years and still felt a part of the community according to her sister-in-law.”

  The newscast ended and Nate turned to Clare.

  “You’re sure that was the woman?”

  “Positive.” She began to shake and Nate pushed her down on thesofa. “So that’s why she didn’t meet me.”

  “It sounds like she might have been on her way to meet you. She would have passed the storage building if she was heading for the beer tent.”

  “I should have waited until she was free to leave, but she acted like she didn’t want to be seen talking to me.”

  “Did she say that?” Nate asked.

  “No, she said something like ‘talking about the murder wasn’t popular.’ Then the Egners and Ed Wiklander came up and she made it sound like I was just asking about the different jams.”

  “That’s strange. I know this is bothering you, Clare. Before I leave for Duluth, I’ll give the chief of police a call. Jon Fogt and I went to school together and he trained under my father. I’ll see if I can get the details on what happened.”

  “Would you? I’d really appreciate it.”

  Clare looked up at Nate who was hovering protectively over her. She wondered how she could have become so involved with him after only a few days. No matter how it had happened it was clearly a godsend.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what I hear.” Nate pulled her to her feet. “I think you’ve had enough excitement for the day. Time for you to go home.”

  Although Nate wanted to follow Clare home in his car, she convinced him that she was perfectly fine on her own. They made arrangements for her to pick up Erika at her school and take her to the clogging class. Music was blaring upstairs, so Clare suggested he just tell the girl good night.

  Clare had left plenty of lights on when she left the cottage. There was a message from Ruth on her answering machine. There were lights on in Ruth’s place, so she called her back.

  “I have a half day off tomorrow and wondered if you’d like to go over to the Itasca Cemetery in the morning.”

  “Usually I don’t get such tempting offers,” Clare said. “I’d like to go. If you have time for lunch after, I can fill you in on what’s been going on.”

  “How’s ten o’clock sound?”

  “See you then.” Clare hung up and got ready for bed.

  She made the rounds of the doors and windows, making sure everything was locked up. She left the window in the bedroom partially open. She didn’t feel unsafe, but she also felt she needed to be careful. Too many things had happened to make her wary of letting down her guard. Not only the note under the door, but the possibility that someone had been outside the cottage the night before.

  It was just a week ago tomorrow that she had arrived in Grand Rapids. At that time she was hopeful that she could learn who she was. In six days, she had found her parents and lost them all at the same time. So many questions had been answered and there were still so many more that had been raised.

  The latest of these was whether Jimmy Newton was really her father.

  She had to think about it. It was entirely possible that he had married Lily despite the fact she was carrying another man’s child. The age difference made that scenario possible. However, the letter in the jewelry box and the pictures argued against that.

  Bruce Young, Cindy’s father, was a possible candidate. He mentioned that he had dated Lily. According to Ruth he had married late in life. Could he have been holding a torch for Lily? Even if he was her father, how could she ever prove it. She could hardly ask him for a DNA sample. Based on what? A hunch?

  Ed Wiklander’s father sounded more likely the kind of man who loved the chase but lost interest once he’d scored. Again, she had no basis to suspect he might have fathered her. It did strike her as strange that Ed was so wary about any investigation into the murder. If the reason for the fight the night of the dance had been jealousy, it made Lily’s pregnancy a little more suspect.

  If Jimmy discovered that he was not Abby’s father, could that be the catalyst for the murder?

  Olli was the only other person she’d met who was the right age and might have been involved with Lily. He was living in Minneapolis and Duluth in those days so she didn’t know how often hecame back to Grand Rapids. Somehow she couldn’t see Olli as a roaming ladies’ man. He had a massive ego, but his attitude toward women was old-fashioned, almost chauvinistic.

  Just thinking about the possibilities made her aware of the fact that there wer
e hundreds of men in Grand Rapids who might have fathered a child twenty-five years ago. And that didn’t take into account the number of men who had moved away from Grand Rapids. The more she looked at it, the more she realized that, if Jimmy Newton wasn’t her father, her ability to discover the truth might prove hopeless.

  True to his word, Nate called first thing in the morning. “Did I wake you?” he asked.

  “No, I’m just out of the shower and having my breakfast.” “Ahh.”

  “How can you make one syllable sound so sexy?” Clare

  chuckled. “I was feeling down this morning and that just picked up my spirits.” “It picked up more than my spirits but we’ll talk more about that the next time I see you. I’m on my way to Duluth. I’m speaking at a luncheon given by the Chamber of Commerce then I’ve gota meeting at the library. I’m on the board of directors. It’s a long meeting so I don’t think I’ll get back until close to nine.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stay at the house with Erika until you get home. Do you want us to bring you some pizza?”

  “No. I’ll grab something before I leave. I talked to the chief of police about Rose’s friend.”

  “What did he say?” Clare’s fingers tightened around the phone as she pressed it against her ear.

  “Pretty much what we heard on the TV last night. He talked to Margee’s sister-in-law in Deer River. It seems she was having a lot of knee trouble and wasn’t very steady on her feet. It appears that she tripped on the steps going down into the storage room. She fell forward and hit her head on the cement block wall.”

  “Why didn’t they find her right away?”

  “Because of the storm last night the ground was too wet to begin taking down the tents. They didn’t start the cleanup until around ten o’clock and that’s when they found her. She didn’t have any identification on her so they didn’t know who she was immediately.”

  “No purse? No wallet?” Clare asked in surprise.

  “Apparently not. The sister-in-law lives in the same condo building and they go shopping every Monday morning. When she got to Margee’s place, the newspaper was still at the front door and her cat hadn’t been fed, so she got worried. She checked with the garage man and he said she never came home Sunday night. Convinced Margee’d been in an auto accident, she called the police.”