The Color of Ivy

by Peggy Ann Craig

  “And this was with his approval?” Sam asked.

  “Of course.”

  “What type of relationship did you have with—Phillip?”

  “Like I said. It was very informal. We got along splendidly. I was very shattered by his death.” She brought a hand up to cover her mouth as if she were trying to suppress tears. “I’ll never forgive you Ivy for what you did.”

  “I didn’t kill him.” She felt panic begin to stir in her gut. “I don’t know what ye saw, but ye were mistaken.”

  Sam ignored Ivy’s outburst and continued. “It was my understanding Mr. Hendrickson was very, er, attached to his staff. Particularly the female staff.”

  “What are you implying? That he made advances to other members of the staff? That’s simply not true.”

  “What do you mean by others?” Sam asked. Ivy hadn’t caught that, but swung her head toward the woman who always felt like a younger sister.

  She looked appropriately confounded and twined her hands together. “Well you said Phill—Mr. Hendrickson made unwanted advances toward Ivy. I assumed you were asking if I was aware he was making other unwanted advances.”

  “Ms. Taylor, I never said that.”

  Ivy could have hugged him. Something inside actually erupted to life and she even felt herself standing taller.

  “She was accused of having an affair with him.” The woman snapped.

  Sam shook his head. “Then that would have been with her consent.”

  Becky’s eyes began to look irritated as she shot a look between the two of them. “What exactly are you trying to get at, Mr. Michalski? You’ve completely lost me.”

  “I apologize, Ms. Taylor,” he said, sounding sincere even if his expression did not. “Let me rephrase the question. Were you aware of Phillip Hendrickson’s illicit activity?”

  “Of course not!”

  “And yet, you seemed to be under the belief he made improper advances to Ms. McGregor.”

  To Ivy’s surprise, the woman’s eyes turned red with rage as she spun around and scowled at Ivy. “That was because she always flaunted herself at him, teasing him. Phillip always wanted what he couldn’t have.”

  “That’s not true!”

  Becky continued, ignoring Ivy’s protest. “She pretended to be so sweet, so innocent, but I knew differently. She had manipulated Phillip the same way she is manipulating you, Mr. Michalski.”

  “No!” Ivy’s gaze flew back to Sam’s face, horribly afraid to see doubt in his eyes. He had already once questioned her innocence, would he again? To her relief the only thing she recognized in his expression was a look of cold hard determination as he kept his steely gaze on Becky.

  “Did you have sexual relations with Phillip Hendrickson?”

  Color flooded the woman’s cheeks. “That’s none of your business!”

  “I take it that is a yes.”

  “I think it’s time you left.”

  “Was it with or without your consent?”

  Her jaw clenched as she glared at him. “Phillip loved me!”

  Her outburst threw the kitchen into silence. Ivy blinked, staring with disbelief at the woman. She had been unaware of the girl’s affections toward Phillip Hendrickson. True, she had seemed particularly friendly with him, but Ivy had simply related it to the woman’s bubbly personality.

  “And you loved him,” Sam stated rather than asked.

  She glowered, shooting fiery darts toward Ivy. The answer was clear in her eyes. Ivy’s mind reeled.

  “Who really killed Phillip Hendrickson, Ms. Taylor?”

  “You’ve said enough, Becky.” All three heads swung around in surprise toward the kitchen entrance. Stella stood inside the door jamb her arms crossed over her breasts; her gaze scanned all three faces before stopping on Ivy. “Hello, Ivy.”

  She wanted to say something, but the unexpected sight of the woman she had befriended and came to trust, left a painful swelling in her throat preventing her from speaking. To her dismay, she found herself forcing back tears.

  “Who are you?” Sam asked.

  She gave a humorless chuckle as she went to her daughter and laid her hands on her shoulder. “I think I should be the one to rightfully be asking you that question.”

  “He’s a friend of Ivy’s!” Becky blurted, her voice beginning to rise with hysteria. “He’s trying to lay the blame for this murder on me.”

  Sam frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied the young woman. “I came here to ask you some questions. I believe you know who the real killer is and are protecting that person.”

  Stella’s attention moved back to Ivy. “How did you get out of prison?” Then her eyes shifted back to Sam and she said, “No matter. I guess I already know.”

  “They’re going to hang me tomorrow, Stella,” Ivy whispered, finally able to find her voice.

  A flash of remorse crossed the woman’s face briefly before she quickly subdued it. “I’m sorry about that, Ivy. Truly.”

  The rapid and crushing arm of betrayal swung out and threatened to drag Ivy down into a deep, dark and lonely abyss. She swiftly looked to Sam. He stood tall and strong, and full of strength. Then he glanced her way and held her gaze. He believed in her. He trusted her.

  Remarkably, she began to feel an ounce of confidence spread forth from within. Since her parent’s death, she had spent her life frightened of death. Something about the event had triggered a fear of it. The finality of her parents’ premature demise, haunted her daily. Perhaps that was the reason why she fought so hard against the Earl. She learned how to do whatever it took to escape death.

  After Moira went missing, that fear only intensified. It almost felt as death was coming one by one for each of her family members. Ivy had always felt it in the shadows just waiting to pounce and claim her as well.

  So she spent all her years running, hiding from the hardships life had thrown her and the people who had delivered them. However, as she stood there staring at Sam, she realized long ago she should have stood up and claimed her life, controlled her own destiny instead of allowing someone to send her to the gallows to protect their own interests.

  In one simple look, she realized Sam had taught her something over these past few weeks, she had never discovered in the twenty years since her parents death. It was time she believed in herself.

  “Why did ye do it?”

  “Pardon?” Stella frowned as her attention lifted from her daughter.

  “Did ye kill Mr. Hendrickson?”

  She gave a sharp chuckle. “Of course not.”

  But Ivy ignored her answer. “Is it you Becky is protecting?”

  “Why would I kill him? You were the one who came to me accusing Mr. Hendrickson of improper behavior. The authorities were very interested in hearing that little tidbit.”

  “Did ye also tell them you threatened me job if I did not comply?”

  Stella had the decency to look uncomfortable, her attention sliding toward Sam standing so powerfully behind Ivy.

  Becky leaped to her feet, eyes ablaze. “That’s not true! You conniving little whore. See what type of witch she is?”

  This last question was shot at Sam whose sharp expression did not falter. But it was Stella who spoke, ignoring her daughter’s outburst. “If I had, it would have only added to your motive. It would have been too easy for the authorities to believe your union with Mr. Hendrickson had turned sour. That perhaps you had a change of heart and wanted revenge. At whatever the cost.”

  “Mother?” Becky’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she stared dumbfounded at Stella. “You told me Ivy seduced Phillip.”

  Stella sighed and reached out to stroke her daughter’s beautifully coiffed hair. “He was no good for you, Becky. I wanted to protect you. Deter his interest elsewhere. I thought if perhaps he released his wants on someone else, he’d leave you alone. I couldn’t sit back and watch him hurt you like he had the others.”

  “But he loved me.” Tears spilled from her green eyes. “He
would have married me if it weren’t for Ivy.”

  “No he wouldn’t have.” She sounded so sad when she whispered this to her daughter.

  “So you killed him to protect your daughter?” Sam asked.

  “No.” She shook her tightly bound hair. Glancing up, her eyes softened slightly as she looked upon Ivy. “I prayed they would be lenient on you.”

  “I didn’t kill him, Stella.”

  She looked away and Ivy was certain she saw a troubling look in her eyes. She knew.

  “Why are ye doing this to me?”

  “Ivy, you have no one. No family. No one who cares. No one to miss you.”

  Ivy had always known that. The loneliness of her world had always been very apparent to her. Hearing Stella, a woman she had come to care for her like her own sister, deny her outright hurt more than she wanted it to.

  “I couldn’t let them take her. She’s all I have.”

  Becky spun on her mother, her eyes round with fear. “Shut up, Mother!”

  Sam became alert, his eyes darting immediately to the younger Taylor. “What exactly did you witness that night?”

  “I don’t need to answer your questions,” she barked, backing away from them all.

  Ivy blinked, confusion clouding her mind. Thankfully, that problem did not affect Sam. “Was Phillip Hendrickson still alive when you entered his room?”

  “She was manipulating him,” she suddenly cried out, pointing an accusing finger at Ivy. “He couldn’t see it.”

  “So you helped him to see it?”

  Her constrained posture eased at Sam’s question, as if she was finding a sympathetic ear. “I tried. But he told me I was being stupid and jealous.”

  “Did you get into an argument?”

  She looked slightly confused as if trying to recall that night. “Yes. He told me if I didn’t stop acting like an idiotic child he’d not love me again. Said I was too thick-headed to see the truth for what it was. I became angry and slapped him.”

  Stella came to stand next to her, laying a comforting arm across her shoulders. Becky looked up at her mother with such huge and vulnerable eyes. “He hit me back and told me he could never love a whore like me. Told me I was easy. That he had been only using me.”

  “Is that when you reached for the iron poker?”

  She blinked blindly at Sam. “Yes. I was so angry. I think I must have blacked out for several minutes because the next thing I knew, I was standing over his body. Blood was gushing from his head. His eyes. They were horrible—they just stared up at me. I found a handkerchief lying on the floor and used it to cover his face.”

  Her words fell like a thick, dreary cloud over the room, casting a hush into the kitchen. It was out, Ivy thought. The truth was finally revealed.

  The silence was shattered by the prison’s loud siren resounding suddenly from the distance. Sam’s gaze slid to Ivy. She released the breath she was unaware she was holding, and momentarily closed her eyes, grateful they were able to force the truth out before she was dragged back to prison. Even with Becky’s confession, it was their word against hers and Sam’s.

  She opened her eyes when she heard Sam continue his interrogation. “Did she ask you to cover the crime?” His question directed at Stella.

  “No. When she came to my room, she was covered in blood and crying hysterically. When I asked her what happened, she told she got into an argument with Mr. Hendrickson and thought she might have killed him in a fit of rage. I suppose I saw this coming. I knew she was becoming too fond of him and knew it couldn’t end well. I asked her if anyone had seen her go into his bedchamber.” Her gaze fell on Ivy. “She told me Ivy had emerged from Mr. Hendrickson’s room just before her, apparently from just having illicit relations.”

  Her sad eyes pleaded with Ivy. “I thought this whole mess was my doing because I had forced you to sleep with him. I never suspected Becky would fly into a rage or that she would—”

  She broke off, dropping her chin in shame. “I had to act fast. I removed her dress and hid it in the laundry bin. We agreed Becky would only admit to seeing Ivy leave his room.”

  Mother and daughter exchanged looks, so full of sorrow and grief, before Becky buried her face in her mother’s bosom. “When the authorities searched the premises and discovered the bloody dress, I lied and said it belonged to Ivy. I didn’t sincerely think they would find her guilty. There wasn’t enough evidence. At the most I thought she may receive prison time.”

  “But Becky changed her story?” Sam asked.

  “Yes. She panicked when they pushed her for answers. To my horror, I heard her tell them she witnessed the actual killing.”

  “Why didn’t ye deny it?” Ivy cried out, her voice a little too sharp to her own ears. “How could ye allow her to set me up? Make me hang for her crime?”

  “She’s my daughter. I love her.”

  And didn’t love Ivy. The unsaid words rang loud and clear in Ivy’s head. On a primitive level, she could somehow relate. If it were Sam, she would have wanted to do anything to protect him from the gallows. However, knew no matter how hard or painful it would have been, she could not condone his behavior if it had been out of pure selfishness.

  There was the sound of commotion coming from the hallway. Ivy turned and saw Orville and Louise Hendrickson, dressed still in their morning robes and looking livid, enter the kitchen.

  “What in the world is going on here?” Orville Hendrickson demanded, and then shot an enraged glare at Ivy. “And what the devil is she doing here?”

  “How dare you!” It was Louise Hendrickson that took a threatening step towards Ivy.

  Instinctively, Ivy stepped back and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Mrs. Hendrickson had always been cold and distant toward her, so her anger was not nearly as unsettling as Orville Hendrickson’s. So unlike his son, he had always been kind to Ivy. Without realizing it, she shriveled away from his obvious hatred only to bump into Sam. His hands came up and closed around her arms, drawing her close to his chest.

  With one hand, he held it out to Orville Hendrickson. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I’m Sam Michalski, the bounty hunter who tracked down Ivy McGregor.”

  His ruthless glare softened slightly, but he did not accept Sam’s hand, his alert gaze taking note of the protective arm Sam held around Ivy. “I see you’ve found her. I will assume those sirens are on her behalf? Perhaps you would be so kind as to deliver her back to the authorities.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Everyone in the kitchen spun around in surprise at the unexpected intruder standing in the back entrance.

  “Roy.” Sam’s grip on Ivy tightened. “She didn’t do it.”

  Roy stood in the same entry from which Ivy and Sam had entered earlier. Standing behind him were two police officers. His gaze slid from Sam to Ivy and then to Becky where it lingered momentarily, before it returned to Mr. Hendrickson. “I believe the wrong woman has been arrested for the murder of your son.”

  Behind her, Ivy felt Sam’s chest exhale as if he had been holding his breath. She herself felt an overwhelming flood of relief.

  Orville Hendrickson frowned heavily, confusion clearly evident on his face. “What exactly is going on?”

  Roy shot Sam a look as he reached behind to withdraw a set of handcuffs then proceeded toward Becky. “Ms. Taylor has just confessed.”

  “That’s impossible,” Mrs. Hendrickson exclaimed, her eyes bulging with disbelief. “Becky was the eyewitness to the murder.”

  “Yes she did,” Roy agreed. “Seeing as she was the one who committed the crime. She set up Ms. McGregor after she believed your son was having an affair with her.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” Louise Hendrickson said, covering her chest as if the very idea caused her heart failure.

  Sam went rigid behind Ivy. “Is it, Mrs. Hendrickson? According to Stella, you informed her if Ivy did not comply with your son’s sexual demands, she could find herself out on the street.”


  Orville Hendrickson literally took a step back as if Sam had struck him. “I’d be cautious what accusations you throw around, young man.”

  “I’m afraid they are not accusations,” Sam told him. “Your son had a nasty habit of fortifying his sexual urges on the female staff. Without their consent.”

  The man’s thick brows pulled down hard as confusion and disbelief danced across his face. Then turning slightly, he looked at his wife. “Louise?”

  At first she didn’t comment, and then she sucked in a long irritated breath before exhaling it on a long drawn out sigh. “Oh please, he was just a young man with sexual desires like any other young man.”

  “Most men don’t force themselves on women,” Sam pointed out.

  “You’re making it sound slanderous. He just wanted to experiment a little.”

  “Good God, Louise.”

  “Don’t look at me like that!” she hollered at her husband then turned her furious gaze upon Becky. “I’m not the one who killed our son.”

  Silence filled the room for mere minutes before Orville Hendrickson finally spoke softly to his wife. “Please go to the parlor and wait for me there.”

  Her eyes flared before they turned hard. “Do right by our son.” Then she stormed out of the room.

  Mr. Hendrickson released a sad sigh before he turned to Ivy, his expression far softer than it had been earlier. “I owe you an apology, Ms. McGregor. I regret if any of this caused you any inconvenience.”

  Ivy felt a tiny light flicker inside, but before it could glow, it was doused immediately by Sam. “Inconvenience? You’ve got to be kidding. She nearly hung for your son’s murder.”

  “Sam.” It was Roy who spoke his name in a warning. “Mr. Hendrickson was fully under the belief he had all the accurate details. As did we all.”

  “No, no.” Orville held up his hands. “Your friend is right. A great injustice has occurred here.” Then stepping closer to Ivy, he said, “I will ensure you are handsomely compensated and I will be more than happy to provide you with a letter of recommendation. As a matter of fact, I can take that one step further. I am certain there are a few strings I can pull and ensure you do find worthy employment whenever you are ready to return to work.” His warm eyes lifted from her and grew hard as he glanced over at Stella. “It appears I will be in search of a new housekeeper. I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in staying on?”