Conspiracy of Silence

by Martha Powers

  “Just so you wouldn’t be able to call anyone when you found your tires were flat.”

  Clare shivered at his words. Even though she had thought of the possibility, saying it out loud made the whole incident sound totally premeditated.

  “What’s going on, Nate?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to talk to Chief Fogt in the morning. I think you need to tell him who you are because I think it might have some bearing on what’s been going on. For some reason, someone doesn’t want you prying into Lily Newton’s murder.”

  “Tonight, before you came home, I was wondering about that. Is there any possibility that Lily was killed by someone other than Jimmy?”

  Nate shook his head. “I honestly don’t think so. All the evidence pointed to him. Over the years no one has ever questioned it.”

  “I think your father did,” Clare said. “I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking on my part, but what if Jimmy didn’t commit the murder?”

  Nate took his feet off the couch and leaned forward in his chair, taking hold of Clare’s hands. “Look at it logically instead of with your heart. Jimmy ran away before he could be arrested and he left behind a note confessing to the crime. If he wasn’t guilty, why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he was covering up for someone?”

  “That doesn’t make sense, Clare.”

  “What if he thought somehow that it was his fault that Lily was murdered? Maybe he’d done something or made someone angry and that person killed Lily by mistake.” She pulled her hands away and crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head in frustration. “Why couldn’t it be something like that?”

  “Isuppose it could be,” Nate said, although there was no conviction in his tone. “It could be any number of things, but is it likely?”

  “Did you ever see Jimmy’s confession?”

  Nate tipped his head up, looking at the ceiling, his mouth puckered in concentration. “No, I don’t think I ever did.”

  “Is there any way we could look at it?”

  “I assume it’s in the files somewhere. What are you thinking?”

  “All the newspaper clippings said was that he left a confession, but what if he didn’t really say he killed Lily. What if everyone just assumed it was a confession because he ran away.”

  When Nate didn’t look convinced, Clare tried again.

  “Do you remember the note he left in the jewelry box? It didn’t sound like a note from a murderer. It sounded like a heartbroken father who was trying to protect his daughter. All he said was that he had to go away. He talked about how happy he and Lily were.”

  “I doubt if he’d tell his daughter that he was leaving because he killed her mother.”

  “But would a man who’d just killed his wife, write such a loving letter?”

  “Howcan we know the mind of a killer? Maybe he was in denial. Maybe he just wanted you to think of him as a loving father nota murderer. Why are you suddenly thinking he didn’t kill Lily?”

  “Because it’s the only reason any of the things that have happened this week make sense.” Clare slapped her hands together in her agitation. “I really believe that someone is trying to stop me from digging into Lily’s murder. I think the attack tonight was to keep me from looking into it any further. Someone wants to chase me out of town or, in a worst case scenario, kill me.”

  After she spoke, she sagged against the back of the couch, feeling drained. Nate rubbed the lines in his forehead as if he had a headache. He stared across at Clare without speaking.

  “You don’t think I’m nuts or paranoid, do you?” Clare asked.

  “Nuts in a nice sort of way.” He patted her clenched hands until she felt the tension ease and they lay loose in her lap.

  “Do you suppose we could look through the files of the case?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure that I can get access to the files. After my father died I took all his old case files over to the police station. I’m sure they’re in storage. It’d just be a matter of finding them.”

  “I really want to see the confession he left behind.” Clare was excited at the prospect. “We can compare the writing against the letter he left me to know if it’s authentic. Mostly I want to see the exact wording of the confession. That might help to answer some of our questions.”

  “The other thing that would help is to have a list of the people that were at the dance the night of the murder.” Nate leaned on the chair back. “It seems logical that whatever happened at the dance was the catalyst for the fight and may have somehow triggered the events that led to the murder.”

  “Bruce Young was at the dance,” Clare said.

  “Cindy’s dad?”

  Clare nodded. “I ran into him when I was looking up my birth certificate. I asked if I could talk to him about Grand Rapids. He explained how your father ended up owning this house. At one point I asked him if he was at the dance and he was.”

  “I’ll give him a call and see if he can remember anyone else whomight have been there.” Nate shrugged. “The trouble is that it’s so long ago now that most people won’t be able to remember anything important. If they knew anything, they would have come forward years ago.”

  “Maybe that’s what happened with Margee. Maybe when she saw me it jarred some memory long buried about the murder. That would make sense then why she seemed frightened and wanted to talk to me. It’s such a shame we never got together.” “We’ll talk to the chief about all this tomorrow.” Clare nodded and yawned.

  “For now,” he said, “I think you should get some sleep. Stay right where you are for the moment. Let me get the guest room ready, and then I’ll help you upstairs.”

  Clare was too tired to argue. She lay back against the pillows running all that they’d talked about back and forth in her mind. So many questions and each time she thought they had an answer something else cropped up. Round and round she went, but she always came back to the same question.

  Why was she a danger to anyone?

  What would be gained if she were injured or killed? The investigation into the murder would stop. Who would gain by that? Lily’s murderer. In the midst of all the other crazy theories they had come up with, there was one that neither of them had thought of.

  “What are you thinking now?” Nate said, coming back into the family room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I have in a way,” she said. “Something we didn’t think about that would turn everything upside down. Assume that Jimmy did commit the murder. And that he ran away at the time of the investigation. What if the body found at the train accident wasn’t Jimmy? What if Jimmy Newton is still alive?”

  S

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What if Jimmy Newton is still alive?” Clare asked.

  “Now that’s something to consider. It makes a certain

  amount of sense.” Nate set a pile of clothes on the end of the

  couch, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course it doesn’t

  account for the identification of his body after the train accident.” This new theory energized Clare and dissipated some of the

  exhaustion she’d been feeling.

  “The body was hit by a train and it most probably was beyond

  recognition. Remember this all happened twenty-five years ago,”

  Clare said. “Forensic identification was fairly simplistic in those

  days. Now we have all the technological wizardry to make identifications. DNA, fingerprints, and so forth.”

  “If we assume that his identification was based solely on the

  items that were found on his body, then it might be feasible.” “Maybe Jimmy deliberately changed identities with someone.

  Maybe someone he met on his travels. He changes identities in

  case he’s picked up for some reason. With the new name and a

  decent cover story he wouldn’t have to worry so much about

  being found.”

/>   Nate sighed. “It’s too far-fetched. Somehow he discovers

  you’re investigating the murder and comes back to Grand Rapids

  to kill off anyone who might have information? It doesn’t make

  sense.”

  “Not when you put it that way,” Clare snapped. “Jimmy

  would be in his late sixties, so he would look a lot different than he did when he left. He could have come back to Grand Rapids

  just recently too.”

  “Okay for the moment let’s say you’re right. If you think your

  father is trying to kill you, why didn’t he do it years ago? He knew

  where you were and he had to assume that at some point Rose

  would tell you about your adoption and the reasons behind it.

  And, at that point, you would come to Grand Rapids.” “Oh, Nate, why is this so complicated?” Clare said. She could

  hear the tremor in her voice and was annoyed at her own weakness. “Do you really believe it’s your father who is trying to kill

  you?”

  Clare squeezed her eyes shut as if she could block out everything that had happened in the past week. She took a deep breath.

  Opening her eyes, she looked up at Nate.

  “No,” she said. “The man who wrote me that letter would

  never try to kill me.”

  A smile broke out on Nate’s face. “That’s what I think too.” He picked up the pile of clothes he’d set on the couch and

  rummaged through them until he found a pair of thick socks.

  Pulling the tube of antiseptic cream from his shirt pocket, he sat

  down in the chair beside the ottoman.

  “I’m going to put some more cream on and then the socks.

  You can walk upstairs without slip sliding around. Look in there

  and see if you can find something you’d like to wear. Or if you’re

  the hardy type, you can go buck naked.”

  Heat burned her cheeks and she busied herself looking

  through the clothes. She settled for a long sleeved jersey and a pair

  of flannel drawstring trousers.

  “This probably gives you some clue as to the state of my love

  life that I don’t have a closet full of slinky nightgowns.” His head was bent as he worked on her feet, but she could hear

  the humor in his tone. When he finished with the cream, he carefully slipped the socks onto her feet and helped her up off the

  couch. She’d been sitting so long that her muscles were stiff when

  she started to move. With one hand on the banister and Nate’s arm

  around her waist, she managed the stairs with a minimum of pain. The guest room bed was turned down. She was too tired to

  look around. She hobbled into the bathroom and stripped off her

  bloody clothes. In the mirror over the sink, she caught a glimpse

  of the black-and-blue spots blossoming on her torso and a particularly nasty bruise along her ribs on the right side. She sucked in

  her breath at the pain when she raised her arms to pull on the jersey. The flannel pants were enormous but she could keep them up

  by pulling on the drawstrings.

  She washed her hands and face, leaving the rest for the next

  day. After undoing the braid of hair, she combed it back with her

  fingers and returned to the bedroom where Nate was waiting. Seeing the concern etched in his face, she did her best not to limp. “You Chicago gals sure know how to dress in the latest fashion,” he said. “Mighty sexy, Clare.”

  “I suspect we’ll be seeing this style on all the runways this

  year.”

  She pushed the sleeves of the jersey up past her elbows, but

  still felt as if she was swallowed up in all the material. “I don’t know if I thanked you for taking such good care of

  Erika. It was very clear when I tucked her in that you’ve made

  great inroads in your relationship.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and smiled down at her. “She’s a lovely child, Nate. I’m only sorry that I managed to

  put her in danger,” Clare said. “You would have been very proud of

  her. It was a scary night for her and she handled herself very well.” He reached up and stroked her cheek with the side of his

  thumb.She closed her eyes and leaned in to the caress. “I’m not sure our relationship is going the way I’d like it to,”

  hesaid. “As you may have gathered, I’m extremely attracted to

  you and I’d like nothing better than to take you to bed. Tame

  kisses aren’t satisfying when I’d like to rip all your clothes off and

  make wild, savage love to you.”

  Clare’s breath caught in her throat at his words. She felt it

  too. A desire to throw caution to the wind. A tingling along every

  nerve in her body. She raised her arms to put them around his

  neck, wincing at the pain in her side at the movement. He saw her discomfort and caught her wrists in his hands, bringing her arms

  down.

  “It’ll wait,” he said. “I want you writhing beneath me, not

  crying out in pain.”

  He gave her a hard kiss on the lips, then pulled away and

  pushed her down on the edge of the bed.

  “Don’t look at me that way or it’ll ruin my resolve. I’ll see

  you in the morning.”

  Turning on his heels, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Clare’s breathing was ragged as she sat on the

  edge of the bed. She slid under the covers and turned out the light.

  Smiling, she lay back on the pillows, savoring the taste of him on

  her lips.

  Clare woke to a sunlit bedroom and for a moment didn’t know where she was. She stretched and felt the twinges in her body that reminded her of what had transpired the day before. Looking at the clock, she was jolted when she realized it was already nine o’clock. She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  On the chair beside the door was a pile of clothes neatly folded and a plastic bag filled with toiletries. Clare recognized her own peach-colored blouse and the sneakers on the floor. Nate must have gone over to the cottage to get her fresh clothes. Her cell phone was on top of the pile. She smiled at the thought that he’d not only picked out a shirt and slacks but clean underwear as well. She must have been sleeping soundly if he was able to slip in and out of the room without her waking.

  Inthe bathroom, she peeled off the socks she’d worn to bed, relieved to see that none of the cuts on her feet appeared inflamed. Her body was covered with a colorful array of black-and-blue marks from her plunge down the hill. The shower stung when she first got in but as she stood under the stream of warm water some of the soreness oozed out of her body. She washed her hair, letting thelather slide down her body in soothing waves.

  Once showered and dressed in clean clothes, Clare felt almost totally recovered from her ordeal of the day before. Socks and sneakers protected her feet and she walked down stairs with very little discomfort.

  “Clare’s awake, Daddy,” Erika called as she raced across the floor from the family room. “I thought you’d never get up.”

  “Morning, Erika.” Clare leaned over and kissed the girl’s cheek. “Are you all slept out?”

  “I’ve been up for ages,” the girl said.

  Clare put her arm around Erika’s shoulder and walked along the hallway toward the kitchen. “No need to sound so smug, young lady. You went to bed way earlier than I did.”

  “You look much better today,” Nate said, as they came into the kitchen. “A little less like roadkill.”

  Clare laughed. “I can’t begin to tell you how much better I feel. Sorry I slept so late. And thanks for the clothes. You must have been out and about early.”

  “Erika and I ate first thing this morn
ing so I could pick up some clothes for you. I ran into Ruth and told her I’d kidnapped you, but would bring you back some time today.”

  He pulled out a stool for her to sit at the counter. Erika sat down next to her.

  “Guess who Daddy found waiting on your doorstep this morning?” Erika asked. When Clare shook her head, she laughed. “Waldo.”

  “According to Ruth,” Nate said, “he was there the better part of yesterday and back again this morning when she went out to get thenewspaper. The dog seems to be missing you.”

  A car horn sounded at the front of the house. Erika jumped up.

  “That’s Mrs. Wolfram,” she said to Clare. “She’s taking Kaya and me to Cass Lake for the day. Will you still be here when I get home?”

  “I don’t think so.” Seeing the look of disappointment on Erika’s face, she said, “Why don’t we see if we can convince your father to take us out Thursday for that pizza we missed.”

  “Can we, Dad?” Erika asked.

  “We’re going to Bemidji to see your cousins on Thursday.” “Dad?” Erika whined.

  “We should be back in the afternoon so we’d have plenty of time to go for pizza.”

  “Awesome, Dad. Thanks.”

  Thecar horn sounded again.

  “Make sure you’ve got everything in your beach bag,” Nate said. “I’ll be right back, Clare. I want to thank Sophia for taking Erika with her.”

  Erika’s shoes pounded up the stairs and then she came racing back down, beach bag in one hand and a Styrofoam “Noodle” in the other. She cut through the kitchen to give Clare a hug and then she went sprinting along the hall and out through the screened porch.

  “Ah, youth,” Nate said when he returned to the kitchen. “I don’t think I had that much energy when I was Erika’s age.”

  “I’m glad she seems recovered from yesterday,” Clare said. “I was afraid there would be some aftereffects.”

  “I gather you told her that the driver was drunk when he tried to run you off the road. A rationale to keep her from thinking it was anything worse?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to scare her.”