Curse of Black Tor

by Toombs, Jane

  Jules was already talking on the phone when Martha came into the library so she waited until he was finished to tell him Josephine had been in the tower. “Sarah often visited her up there. We need to find out if she did.”

  “That’s mere conjecture. In the morning we’ll ask Josephine, but I don’t count on anything.” He rubbed his face. “Do you think Sarah could have gone outside?”

  “I just don't know, Jules. She isn't a fearful girl. She might have.”

  “Would she have spoken to strangers? Gotten into a car?”

  “Wouldn't any strange car here at Black Tor have been remarked on?”

  “At night? Look here—you don't think your friend Lowrey actually did engineer that accident with the whale and then waylay Sarah, do you?”

  “Bran?” Martha was incredulous .

  “Well, Sarah knew him. She'd have gone off with him, wouldn't she?”

  “Yes, but I don't believe that Bran—oh, Jules, that's ridiculous.”

  “What do you actually know of the man?”

  “I told you—I met him on the ferry from Seattle.”

  “Yes, that's what you've said.”

  “It's the truth!”

  “Then he could have Sarah, for all you know.”

  She glared at Jules. “I don't know Bran well, but I can't believe he'd kidnap a child! He's not a—a child molester!”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I've met a few in my psychiatric training,” Martha snapped. “Bran doesn't fit the profile.”

  “Why are you protecting him?”

  “I’m not. But you have no evidence—only your own dislike-- ”

  “You're in love with him.”

  “No!” Martha's voice rose. “What's the matter with you, Jules?” She wanted to shake him. To scream at him that if she was in love with any man it was with Jules Garrard.

  He sat in the chair behind the desk with his head in his hands. Martha waited, but he said nothing more. She resisted an impulse to go to him and smooth his hair, cradle his head against her. “You’ve had a bad day,” he said at last. “Better get some rest.”

  “How can I rest with Sarah missing?”

  “I’ll take you to your room. You can’t do anything more tonight. In the morning we’ll go to the hospital and talk to Josephine. In the meantime you must get some sleep.”

  “But I--”

  He slammed his fist on the desk. “Damn it! Must you always argue with me?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Martha had taken two of the pain pills Dr. Hansen had given her for the fractured collarbone; otherwise she was sure she wouldn't have been able to sleep at all.

  In the morning, after Jules had phoned the hospital to check on Josephine's condition, he asked Henry to take Martha to St. Joseph's.

  “I thought you were coming, too,” Martha said.

  “I have to stop by the police station with photographs of Sarah,” he said. “Then I have an appointment at the bank.”

  Wasn't he even going to visit Josephine? Martha wondered. And how could he be so calm about the missing Sarah? Did he have no feelings at all? Was he so unruffled by his father's death, the missing child and his sister's near-fatal accident that he'd slept through the night and now was going about his ordinary business?

  Jules strode past her and in a moment she heard the roar of the MG going down the drive.

  “We're all upset about Sarah, miss,” Henry said as he handed Martha into the silver Rolls-Royce. “I hope they find her soon—I wouldn't want to think she was somewhere hurt or frightened. And Miss Josephine in the hospital.” He shook his head. “Even you, miss.”

  Yes, even me, Martha thought, adjusting the sling on her arm as she settled herself in the chair. After a moment she was struck by the fact that she was the only one from the house going to the hospital to visit Josephine.

  “And that Bill Wong,” Henry went on. “I warned him he should mind his own business.”

  “What do you mean?” Martha asked.

  “Well, you must realize Mrs. Garrard hired him. The second Mrs. Garrard, who was Miss Josephine's mother.” Henry frowned. “I never met the lady, but she was well liked in the household. Felt sorry for her, they did, or so I've been told.”

  “What does she have to do with Bill Wong getting shot?”

  “Well, he wanted to help Miss Josephine on account of her mother. That's why he took the letters from that man, whoever he was, and then the little girl delivered them.”

  “Sarah?” Martha remembered the first note Josephine had gotten from Diego. Bill Wong had given the note to Sarah to take to Josephine. “Do you think whoever shot Bill Wong has taken Sarah? But why?”

  “Because, miss, it could be that she's seen him, whoever he is. She's a curious little girl, and it isn't like a proper watch is kept over her—begging your pardon, miss, but of course that's not your job.”

  “Do you know who this man is—the one Bill Wong took the letters from?”

  Henry shook his head. “Never saw him close up, and Bill wasn't a talker. All I saw was someone give something to Bill two different times. But I wasn't near enough to recognize anyone. I watched to see what Bill did, and when he slipped a letter to little Sarah, I followed her to see what she did with it.” He glanced sideways at Martha. “Likely you know about the letters.”

  Martha didn't answer. Could Diego be responsible for Sarah's disappearance after all? Had he shot Bill Wong? For what reason? “ Have you told Jules--Mr. Garrard?” she asked.

  Henry shook his head. “Not yet. I've been thinking it through, like.”

  “You ought to talk to the police about what you've told me,” Martha said. “Is Bill Wong too badly hurt to tell them anything?”

  “I heard he was in the intensive care unit,” Henry said. “Lost a lot of blood.”

  “Just drop me off at the hospital and then go and talk to the police,” Martha said. “Maybe what you know will help them find Sarah.”

  “I’ll do just that, if you think it might help,” Henry said. “Mr. Jules told me to wait for you, but I suppose he'd want me to tell what I know.”

  “You can come back for me when you've finished,” Martha said.

  At St. Joseph's, she hurried down the corridors, looking for Josephine's room, still feeling unbalanced by the sling. She must insist that Josephine tell her how to get in touch with Diego. Surely if she explained about Sarah— The report Jules had gotten in the morning was that Josephine was sitting up and wanting to get dressed. If she felt that well, Martha need have no hesitation about forcing information from her.

  But Josephine had a visitor. Martha stopped in the doorway in surprise when she saw Bran Lowrey sitting on the hospital bed. He rose hurriedly. Had he been holding Josephine's hand?

  “Bran! ” Martha exclaimed. “I heard about the accident,” he said. “Friends in high places.” He grinned at her and once again the teasing sense of familiarity came over her. Something about his smile .

  Josephine was sitting up, her cheeks were pink and she looked healthy and happy.

  “Broken ribs,” Bran said. “Plus banging her head. How could such an unlikely accident have happened?”

  I happen to have a broken clavicle, Martha thought. A lot you seem to care about that. “Someone wanted her hurt—or worse,” Bran went on. “She can't go back there.”

  Martha stared at him in amazement. When she glanced at Josephine, she saw her gazing up at Bran with parted lips, her yellow eyes wide. Was Josephine interested in him? What about her long-lost love, Diego?

  “I won't have it,” Bran continued. “Martha, you can find an apartment for Jo and stay with her there. Don't worry about the damn money. I'll pay for it.”

  So Bran had already discovered that Josephine was an heiress. Perhaps that accounted for his sudden interest. Martha felt oddly disappointed in him.

  “Sarah's missing,” she said abruptly.

  Josephine swung her head toward Martha. “Missing? What do yo
u mean?”

  “We can't find her. Since last night. Jules went to the police.”

  “I don't understand,” Josephine said. “Where would she go?”

  “We think she's been kidnapped,” Martha said grimly. She glanced at Bran. “I must talk to you privately,” she said to Josephine.

  “He can hear anything you have to say,” Josephine told her.

  “But this is about—” Martha paused, then added, “Diego.”

  Bran and Josephine looked at each other and then at Martha. A wild supposition filled her mind.

  “Bran is—” Josephine began. Martha interrupted. “He’s Diego!” she exclaimed. “But then--” she frowned and shook her head.

  “Then what?” he asked.

  “Why didn't you—you could have come openly to Black Tor to see Josephine! All this secrecy—” She paused and took a deep breath. “Bill Wong's been shot—did Josephine tell you? Now Sarah's gone. I sent Henry to the police with his suspicions of the man who passed letters to Josephine through Bill and Sarah. Diego. You, Bran.”

  “Me?” His voice was incredulous. “Take that little girl? Shoot a man?”

  “Diego—Bran—had nothing to do with that!” Josephine cried. “It's ridiculous!”

  Martha watched him. Why had he waited all these years to come back to claim Josephine, and why had he done so in such a secretive manner?

  “Why Diego?” she asked. “Why not come as Bran Lowrey? If that's who you really are.” Josephine’s eyes flashed. “He doesn’t have to explain anything. You don’t know Diego or you wouldn't accuse him of—of…”

  Bran turned to Josephine and touched her face. “Hey,” he said. “Don't get so worked up. Martha's on our side—at least I think she is. She's worried about you. And about Sarah.”

  He faced Martha. “I wouldn't hurt a child. Ever. I haven't even seen her since the day we all—wait!” He frowned. “In the tower,” he said. “It couldn't have been you, Jo, because you and Martha must have been in the bedrooms by then. Your light was on there, I was watching.”

  “Diego and I were going to meet outside after supper,” Josephine put in. “We had planned to before—before daddy and Simon and all. I thought the note on the whale was to cancel the meeting or something like that, and I...”

  “I was waiting outside,” Bran said. “I hadn't seen Jo since she sneaked back out after our trip to Craigdarroch Castle and we had to give you that fake story about her wanting me to take her into Victoria.” Bran smiled. “We've had a problem with deception and wanting to see each other alone.” Josephine took his hand.

  “I knew I was early last night,” Bran went on, “but....” He turned to Josephine

  Martha watched them looking into each other's eyes and felt like an intruder. Bran couldn't be acting. Or could he?

  “I watched the light go on in Jo's bedroom,” Bran said, “and I knew she was getting ready for dinner. Then a light went on in the tower. I saw a face pressed against the window. I was startled, thinking maybe you were there despite the light in your bedroom. But then the face went away and the tower light went off. Now that I know about Sarah, I think maybe it was her face I saw. Because she's dark like you, Jo. I got a quick impression of white face, dark hair.”

  “Had Sarah been in the tower with you earlier?” Martha asked Josephine

  “No. I didn't see her after she came to my bedroom to tell me about Simon. If she really was in the tower, if that's who Bran saw,” Josephine said, “I wonder why she went up there without looking for me in my bedroom first?”

  “Maybe she wasn't looking for you,” Bran suggested.

  “But Sarah didn't like being up in the tower alone,” Josephine said.

  “Then Sarah must still have been in the house when the accident happened,” Martha said, “because that was only a few minutes later. Josephine and I couldn't have been in our bedrooms more than ten to fifteen minutes.”

  “Another rigged accident,” Bran said. “Someone wants Jo out of the way—permanently. Like before.”

  “You mean the drug overdoses?” Martha asked.

  “Those, too, but I meant when she was taken away from Victoria and hidden in the U.S. somewhere—the time she can't remember. I came here from Seattle six years ago, trying to find her. She was gone, and I couldn't find out who she was. Did she tell you I didn't even know her last name? She thought I was dead, and I damn near was—in the hospital six months. So I gave up looking for her and went back to California, to San Diego.”

  “Bran put himself through the university working on the tuna boats,” Josephine said.

  “But I never was able to forget Jo and those—three days.” Bran put his arm around Josephine. “Like a dream you always remember. Last year I came to Victoria on a vacation, and it wasn't long before I heard about Josephine Garrard, the princess in the tower. Someone pointed out Jules to me on the street, and I was almost sure. But then I had to leave—I had a job I needed. It took me another year to wangle this appointment to the museum, but this time I won't ever let her go.”

  A gray-haired nurse came into the room. “Oh, another visitor? I don't think Dr. Hansen—” She paused and assayed Martha, her eyes flicking over the sling.

  “Martha's my nurse at home,” Josephine said. “She was hurt, too.”

  “I see that,” the nurse said.

  “We appreciate you giving us a few minutes alone, Mrs. Freyler,” Bran said.

  “And those few minutes are all I can give you,” Mrs. Freyler said. “I bent the rules a bit for that. But a fiancé—” She smiled at Bran, then looked at Martha. “I've been instructed by Dr. Hansen to keep all visitors out of Miss Garrard's room. But I called him about Mr. Lowrey, and he said that was all right. Even then, I should have stayed in the room—”

  Martha nodded. “I'll just run along. Is there anything you need, Josephine?”

  “No—thank you. They—they'll find Sarah, won't they?” Josephine's eyes were wide and frightened. “I couldn't bear to have her hurt.”

  “The police usually find lost children,” Martha said, trying not to think of all the newspaper stories of molested, mutilated children.

  On her way out Martha stopped at the desk to inquire about Clara Eccles and was told that she'd been transferred to a nearby convalescent facility. Henry wasn't back with the car when she went outside, so she decided to walk the few blocks and see if she could talk to Miss Eccles.

  Josephine's former nurse was in a wheelchair in the library of the convalescent hospital. Her face was lined and wrinkled, but her hazel eyes gazed at Martha with wary intelligence. Her manner warmed slightly as Martha talked about Josephine and her concern for the girl. Then, when she heard of last night's accident, Clara Eccles was obviously distressed.

  “Oh, then it's still going on! I was afraid that would happen. Another accident.” She gestured at Martha's arm. “And you, too. Like me.”

  Martha studied Miss Eccles, then made up her mind. “Do you think the cord was meant for you—that you were the one meant to fall and be injured?”

  There was a silence.

  “Louella's talked to you, I see,” Clara Eccles said at last. “If Louella trusts you, then I shall. She's not likely to be wrong. Yes, I needed to be gotten out of the way. He would have preferred my death, but at least he succeeded in having me removed from Black Tor, which left Josephine unprotected.”

  “But another nurse would just be hired—as I was,” Martha said.

  “Yes, but a new nurse wouldn't be suspicious. He knew I was. I'd been asking questions—”

  “Who knew?” Martha asked, interrupting.

  “Why, Jules Garrard, of course.”

  Clara Eccles was certain that Jules wanted Josephine dead. “He'll make sure you leave,” Clara had said. “Then some fatal 'accident' will happen to Josephine—wait and see.”

  In vain, Martha had mentioned Bran Lowrey.

  “No one can protect her from Jules. He's too clever. The Garrards are ruthless, like the ki
ller whales they resemble.” Clara Eccles's face had crumpled and tears had come to her eyes. “But who will believe me? Even you don't.”

  Was this the reason Norman Garrard had been so afraid for Josephine, and why he hadn't confided in Jules? For fear that Jules was responsible for all that had befallen Josephine? Everything seemed to fit.

  But then why had Jules run another ad for a nurse? Why had Jules hired her?

  An insidious thought wormed into her consciousness: you were hired because he knew you were Marty Collier. He investigated when he received the application you sent, and he found out. He wanted a nurse with a secret—with a dubious background. If she'd had suspicions and had talked to anyone in authority, who'd believe Marty Collier?

  Martha felt a sudden chill. Cynthia dead. Simon dead. Norman—but surely Norman's death had resulted from his illness. Hadn't it? Jules had been in the room. But she hadn't watched what he was doing…

  Martha stared unseeingly from the car window at the passing scenery. Her eyes fixed on the horror within her mind. Where was Sarah? How could the girl have been a threat of Jules? She saw in her mind the eager face, the flashing grin that was Sarah’s. Who would harm a child? What could she do , who could she talk to? Dr. Hansen? He’d banned visitors from Josephine’s room . Why?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Martha rode back to Black Tor with her mind roiling like the water at the base of the cliff behind the house.

  Jules. Could he be behind all the so-called accidents that had occurred in the past few years? Even his wife's fatal fall down the steps might have been planned, as Clara Eccles's had been. But why would he want his wife dead?

  “I've been asking here and there,” Clara Eccles had said. “People tell me things, once they learn I was injured at the Garrard house. There was gossip that Cynthia Garrard had lovers, that she and Jules weren't sharing a bedroom, that the baby Cynthia carried wasn't her husband's.”

  Martha thought of his arrogant face, the unsmiling dark eyes. Did he resent his wife's infidelities to the point of murder? And Josephine—was his greed for money so great that he wanted his half sister dead?