Pamina shot up from her chair. “The minute the police find out you saw those men, everybody else will, too. Including the men in that car. Remember? We’ve seen it happen before.” She snatched up the typewritten pages Diana had so carefully transcribed the night before and flipped through them. “Look, right here. I was sure I remembered what you said. You described them, the tall, narrow-faced one with the moustache and the other one you said looked like an angry elf. I’ll bet the police could name them just from what you wrote down. The minute they start looking for these hoodlums, the hoodlums are going to start looking for you. If the man who was killed was Sheldon Haver, and we both know it’s not likely to be anyone else, everybody in town is going to be clamoring for a swift arrest. It’s going to be hot in Fort Worth, Texas, and not just because we’re having a heat wave.”
Diana gripped the pages, staring down at her own carefully transcribed notes. “Then what else can I do? I have to tell them, Pam. The men who did this must be brought to justice. It scares me sick, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Pam sat on the arm of Diana’s chair, one hand on her sister’s shoulder. “It’s my fault, Di. I mean it; if I hadn’t been trying to butter up the gossip columnist, hoping to find an angle for a story, none of this would have come out. If I hadn’t told Trey about Tommy Gunn and Charlie and suggested we go out there, we wouldn’t have seen anything. No one would be looking for a witness. There wouldn’t have been one. It’s my responsibility. I should be the one to go to the cops.”
“You didn’t see them, Pam. I did. You couldn’t pull off pretending it was you.” Diana squeezed her sister’s hand. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We don’t know, not for certain, that Sheldon Haver was the victim. We aren’t certain how Charlie died. Until the police have identification, they have no reason to connect that little note in the paper with Haver or Charlie. Or us.”
Pamina shook her head. “When Reverend Haver reports his son missing, the son of a prominent man who’s made a name for himself trying to get drinking and gambling places closed down, it won’t be long before the bits all connect. It may be a day or two before the story is spread over the newspapers—we can hope for a couple of days—unless Tommy Gunn reads the gossip columns and begins to get worried about who saw what. Then he’ll get pretty anxious to be sure nobody tells all to the police.”
Tommy Gunn won’t hesitate to clear up the loose ends when he realizes someone might be a witness. Charlie said “the boss” was on the premises. Diana shuddered, thinking about what the man in the barber shop had said about the difficulty identifying the body. A shotgun. She shivered in spite of the heat and jumped as the hotel room door began to open.
“This looks like a serious family meeting.” Trey closed the door softly. “Bad news, girls? A death in the family?”
The word “death” vibrated in Diana’s head. She couldn’t answer.
“That’s about it, Trey.” Pamina walked toward him. “Except the death was in someone else’s family this time. It might as well be ours. We’re likely to be part of the mopping up.”
“Seriously? Pam, you’re white as a sheet. Diana looks ready to run out of here like the room was on fire.” He took Pamina’s hand in his and drew her back to the armchairs by the window. “Here, sit down.” He pulled the straight chair from Diana’s work table and planted it to face the two girls. Putting his straw boater on the lamp table, he sat down, looking from face to face as if gauging the weight of the situation. “All right, I’m listening. Tell me what has you two utterly modern women cowering like frightened children.”
Diana exchanged a look with her sister, who nodded slowly. “Tell him, Di. He’ll have to know, because of Archie.”
She squared her shoulders and leaned forward, her voice little more than a whisper. “We are cowering. I guess you could say we’re frightened. Scared to death is more like it.” Bracing herself, she went on. “It’s that odd little thing Dr. Pearce and I saw behind Tommy Gunn’s. And what happened to Charlie. And…” She hesitated. “It looks like the man in the slicker, the one Pam recognized, it looks like he was murdered…probably by those men who took him in the car. I saw them.”
“Wait, Diana. You’re not making much sense. A man was murdered? How do you know? What’s happened since last night to lead you to such a harebrained idea?”
Pam grabbed Diana’s hand, squeezing it. “Not harebrained, Trey. It’s the goods. Listen. Here’s the down and dirty.” She drew a breath and spelled out the events of the morning, not sparing herself for her part in getting the damaging bit of gossip into the newspaper. “Di probably saw the men who bumped him off.”
Trey, his dark eyes growing wider behind his glasses with each revelation, finally stopped her. “You’re sure the body they found is this preacher’s son? Even though the police haven’t made an identification? Think about it. If you’re wrong about who the victim is, your entire premise fails.”
“I’m making a leap, I know, Trey.” Pam sat back in her chair, rolling her shoulders to lessen the tension. “Really, I don’t see how it could be anyone else. I know the man who came into the bar was Sheldon Haver.”
Trey interrupted her. “How can you be certain, Pam? The bar was pretty dark. You saw him for, what, not more than ten or twelve seconds. He had that slicker pulled close, the collar right up against his face. Could you be mistaken? Could it have been another man with a similar build?”
Pam shook her head. “Trey, I’ve known Sheldon Haver for years. Not that I was a guest at his house or went to his church. Not that way. I’ve been with the paper four years, and I’m always trying to find a story to write, so I go to political meetings. He’s frequently one of the honored guests on the stage, and I try to ask him a question, get a quote for the paper. I sit in the audience when he makes a speech. I see him, during the course of a month, at least three or four times. Once I even caught him on the way to lunch with his father and made some small conversation with him as we walked up the stairs together. Believe me, I know Sheldon Haver when I see him.”
“It was Haver at Tommy Gunn’s?”
Pam held up her right hand as if taking an oath. “I swear it was. Disguised or not, with or without that slicker, the man in Tommy Gunn’s was Sheldon Haver. The body they found, according to a reporter who was there, was wrapped in a yellow rain slicker. That was all he was wearing, but they aren’t common here. It wasn’t too far from Tommy Gunn’s place. Charlie died just down the road a couple of miles. Di and Archie saw both of them leave. It all adds up.”
“Then you’re right to be scared.”
“I have to go to the police, don’t I, Trey?” Diana tried to quell the pounding in her head so she could think about the prospect. “Even if word gets out about a possible witness and Gunn hears about it? Starts looking for that witness himself?”
He shook his head. “Run the risk of him finding out who you are? I don’t know that you do, Diana. I’m not certain what you need to do at this point. The first thing is to confirm your conclusions. They seem sound, but I think we need wiser heads.” He glanced at the clock on the table. “The guys were up pretty late last night bemoaning the loss of Charlie and the information he could have given El, but I think it’s time to get them in on this discussion. If you’re a witness, so is Archibald, and that’s not a good thing. His age, his eyesight, and his academic brain are going to make anything he tells the authorities suspect. Still, he’s involved, and I think he has a right, and a need, to be in the discussion. The others may have material views. I’m going to go down and have lunch sent up here. While it’s coming, I’ll get with Archibald and El and explain things to them. They can talk to the others. El is about the only one King will listen to, and Getty seems to hear Archibald better than anyone else. You girls take a breath and think about something else for a bit. The old boys may wrangle and bicker, but where one is in a bad spot, the others are on hand to help out. One for all and all for one, as I told you before, Diana. They’ll fee
l the same way toward you. You ladies are part of this merry band of scholarly buccaneers.”
He started toward the door, then turned back. “By the way, Diana, you seem to have done something rather fetching with your hair. I believe it’s…what did I hear that young woman say in the hallway? Oh, yes, it’s the bee’s knees. Or was it the elephant’s eyelashes?”
****
“Well, Diana, I’m forced to say, based on what Trey tells me, we’ve let you in for a most unpleasant set of circumstances.” Dr. Elmsford tamped down his pipe and relit it. “I apologize for permitting my own quest for the historical outlaw to bring you face to face with a modern one.”
“It really isn’t your problem, I assure you. You shouldn’t concern yourself with the situation Pam and I are dealing with. You’ve lost the thread that could connect you with the object of your search. That’s enough burden for you.” Diana didn’t see how seven bickering academics could be of much assistance and hoped they would simply see the danger to Dr. Pearce and decide to take their research to another location.
“It is indeed our problem, my dear, and we will assist you, or arrange for your protection if we can’t put together a viable solution.” He looked around at the other men. “I believe Pearce and I have a plan that might eliminate some of the risk for everyone.”
Pearce nodded. “It’s a bit, shall we say, duplicitous, but I do believe it’s quite legal. Not overtly illegal, anyway.” He pushed a sheet of paper, covered in small, close script, to Elmsford. “Here are our notes. They may be a bit sketchy, but it’s all we could devise in an hour. We may have to improvise as the situation develops.” He gestured to Dr. Elmsford. “It’s your plan. You make the assignments.”
“First, let me say, after looking over the possible results of each course of action, going to the police doesn’t strike me as the prudent choice; therefore, preventive evasion is called for. In other words, we make a strategic retreat, all of us.” Elmsford bit down on the stem of his pipe, smoothed out the tightly written page, and picked up a pencil. “As best we can tell, we have perhaps two days to remove everyone to a safer place. If Diana is in harm’s way, we all are. Listen closely. Each of you has a role to play. I’d prefer to keep questions to a minimum, making necessary clarification at the end. We need to accomplish this part of the program within the next few hours if at all possible.” He raised bushy eyebrows above his heavy glasses. “Gentlemen, we do not have time for the usual banter and babble. Tempus fugit.” He tapped the tip of the pencil on the table for emphasis.
“Oh, dear, I’m not certain I will be of much help, Elmsford. You know I’m not good if I don’t have time to prepare. Dr. King knows how flustered I get if I’m rushed. If we’re really in danger, shouldn’t we be packing? The books, our files, dear me, so much to be done.” Withers pursed his small mouth, looking put out with the hasty plans. His glance side to side appealed to his colleagues for support.
Elmsford thundered, “You have a part to play, Withers. By Heaven, you’ll play it. You can start packing after we take care of everything else. Just listen while I explain.” He puffed his pipe, sending a small plume of smoke above his head. “Withers”—he cast a quick look at the man nervously shifting in his chair—“Withers, you have the first assignment. I want you to look through your files and find letters, just the usual family letters people send to distant relatives. I’d like the ones from mothers and grandmothers and aunts. Bring what you find to Getty and Holmes.”
“Well, now I’m not sure they’re arranged separately. Not really. Just the letters? Not diaries or photographs? Diaries have so much more detail.” Withers shook his head. “We don’t have very many actual letters. Just from women?”
“Letters. That’s it. Bring them. Family letters. Those usually come from the women in the family. But no love letters.” He stared at Withers. “Well, why are you still sitting here? Aren’t they filed in Pearce’s room? Get started.”
“Yes, of course, Elmsford. Right away.” Withers shook his head as if dismayed at the prospect before him but scurried out of the room.
Elmsford turned to the two men in the armchairs across the way. “Getty, Holmes, the next part is yours. I want you to go through those family letters once Withers finds them. Look at the way these women write to their distant relatives. Make notes of their words and expressions. Take special note of the eccentricities in spelling.” He shifted his attention to Diana. “Do you have any distant kin? Anyone who writes to you regularly?”
Before she could answer, Pamina interrupted. “We don’t have a soul except each other, Dr. El. Our father was an only child. Mother, well, she didn’t ever mention any family except to say there’d been some kind of terrible quarrel between our grandmother and her sister, our great aunt, which was never mended. I don’t know what it was about. I only heard Mother mention it one time. I don’t think she knew I heard her. She was talking to Papa.”
“You wouldn’t know the aunt’s name or where she lived, I suppose?”
Pam shook her head. “No, I don’t have any idea.”
Elmsford puffed his pipe and nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent. You won’t have given out any information that we’ll have to account for.” He glanced between Dr. King and Diana, then focused on the professor. “King, you’re the linguist of the group. I want you to go through the various letters and documents we have from attorneys and courts. Look for some long, involved legal phrases, anything that makes a perfectly clear sentence all but indecipherable. Then start putting together a letter that could have been sent from one attorney to another. Something that suggests they’ve known each other or had previous dealings. I want one attorney to be asking the other to locate a missing relative, someone a client is anxious to find. Say an older relative”—he nodded at Diana and Pamina—“an aged aunt, is anxious to mend a breach in the family before she passes on. Drop a hint that it would be financially beneficial to the missing relative to meet the old soul before she departs this earth.”
“You’re planning to send these ladies to a mythical relative?” King took off his glasses and held them up to the light. “Sounds unwise. Perhaps it would be better to…”
“I’m not sending them to a mythical relative. You’re just writing a letter. There’s not time to discuss the ifs and whys. Can you write such a letter?”
“Given an hour to study it, I could write a passable sequel to Canterbury Tales. Or a believable conclusion to Edwin Drood.”
“I’m certain you could.” Elmsford pointed at the notebook in Diana’s lap. “Dictate notes and ideas to Diana. Get her help writing it up. She told us she taught office skills to young ladies. She’s bound to be able to create the proper style for legal correspondence.”
Pearce took back the page of notes he’d given Elmsford. “That’s just about everyone, isn’t it? You and I have our little errand.”
“All but Trey and Miss Pamina.” He stood up and put his pipe into his pocket. “Trey, you’ll need to get the car and bring it around. You’ll drive us. You remember how to locate that overbearing widow we interviewed yesterday? She was distraught when we finally convinced her we couldn’t use those dusty files her husband treasured all this time. In retrospect, I think we may be able to take a little off her hands. Not much, but a few select items. She’ll feel better if she thinks she was right, and we made an error in judgment.”
Trey put on his hat. “Yes, I remember how to get there.”
“Good. While Pearce and I are combing through that mare’s nest in her spare room, you and Miss Pamina will be completing another small errand. I’m certain she’ll know where to go to purchase suitable writing paper. Something of good quality with a little elegance, something that would be appropriate for an elderly lady in comfortable financial circumstances. Perhaps with a hint of dove gray to suggest a bit of remorse?”
“Note paper?” Pamina raised both hands in confusion. “I think I know where to go, but I don’t see why.”
Trey headed for th
e door. “I’ll get the car and meet you in front of the hotel. El, I have to trust you to know what you’re doing. It’s all clear as mud to me.”
****
In the next two hours, Diana was certain Withers’ twittering and nattering would irritate her past endurance. Holmes and Getty hogged the larger table in the room, spreading discolored and brittle letters over the top, happily shouting instructions to Withers. Withers, dedicated but more apt to add to confusion than offer useful solutions, persisted moving pages the other two had already read. King, exasperated with trying to concentrate on the wealth of legalese before him, lost all patience.
“Holmes, you and Getty are making it impossible for me to think. Please take that collection of drivel to Elmsford’s room and continue your gabbling there. He has a perfectly good table where you can work. Take Withers with you. He might be able to do something for you. He’s certainly doing nothing to help matters in here.”
Holmes had to explain the situation twice before Getty heard the entire message, but at last they gathered up the scattered pages, piled loose sheets into a box, and herded Withers out of the room with them.
“Now,” King said, satisfaction in his tone. “Now we can get on with this scheme Elmsford has created. If he actually has some reason for this game of hunt the thimble.”
“I’m sure he does,” Diana answered automatically. She was in a strange frame of mind. Physically she diligently took down the words Dr. King dictated, but somehow she’d become detached from herself. She felt almost as if she were watching herself perform in a play. The danger was real, and the consequences could be grim for the blonde girl with the short hair and neat middy blouse. They had nothing to do with the other Diana, the one sitting in the audience watching two people perform.
Diana and the Three Behrs Page 7