Mining for Justice

by Kathleen Ernst

  “Here’s my theory,” Evelyn said. “Most of those crumbling cottages emptied, people moved away, and hoboes and tramps passing though claimed squatters’ rights. They were hard men, mostly. Not local. I suspect two men sheltering in the cottage Tamsin and her husband eventually purchased got into a fight. One killed the other, buried him right there, and no doubt left town.”

  “It certainly could have happened that way,” Chloe said slowly. She’d been so focused on identifying a specific and horrific crime that she’d overlooked the context. Some historian I am, she thought. Still, she liked Evelyn’s theory. It had been rather horrid to think that someone who lived in Chy Looan had committed murder.

  “I doubt if anyone from Mineral Point was even involved,” Evelyn added, as if unsure that Chloe had grasped the moral of the story.

  Chloe hid a smile. “I know your Mineral Point roots are deep, Evelyn. Were your people Cornish?”

  “Oh, no. The first of my ancestors to arrive in the lead region, my great-great-grandfather, came from Missouri in the 1820s.”

  “Yikes. That’s early.” Chloe sat down at Claudia’s desk. “He must have been a rugged soul.”

  “He was. And he became quite the local leader,” Evelyn said with quiet pride. “In 1832, when the Black Hawk War broke out, he served as a lieutenant under General Dodge. And later he served as a judge. Dodge gets all the credit—Dodgeville, Governor Dodge State Park—but my great-great-grandfather was his equal. There’s an elementary school named for him south of here.”

  “Pretty cool,” Chloe agreed. She was generally most interested in the lives of people who didn’t have schools named after them, but she would never say so to Evelyn. “Was his wife with him when he came, or—”

  The phone rang. Evelyn picked it up. “This is Pendarvis … Clau-dia!”

  Seventeen

  Chloe jerked upright.

  “Where are you? We’ve been worried sick.” Evelyn listened for several moments before nodding. “I’ll let Loren know … Yes, Chloe’s right here. I’ll transfer your call. Please take care of yourself. And Holly. Talk to you soon.” She punched a button, and the phone at Chloe’s elbow began to ring.

  She snatched it. “Claudia? Are you okay?”

  “I am.” The other woman sounded weary. “Holly had a crisis this morning. I spotted her on the site when she should have been at school.”

  “Is she alright?”

  “I think so. And I do know what happened at the site after I left.”

  Chloe was relieved that she didn’t have to share that news again.

  “Listen, I’m not coming back in today. I left my briefcase by my desk. Would you be willing to bring it by my house this afternoon? It’s a five-minute walk.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.” Claudia’s voice trembled as she dictated the address. “Come whenever it’s convenient.”

  After hanging up, Chloe swiveled in her chair to look at Evelyn. “Claudia asked me to bring her briefcase to her house. I’d like to check on her. Do you mind if I leave again?”

  “No problem,” Evelyn assured her. “I’m worried about Claudia too.”

  Claudia met Chloe at the door of her small brick home on the edge of the historic district. “I really appreciate you coming over. Can you stay a few minutes? Want a glass of iced tea?”

  “You’re my boss this week,” Chloe reminded her. “Tea would be good.”

  Claudia ushered her into a comfortable living room. Chloe took a chair and—curator’s habit—studied the space. A collection of silk fans was displayed in a high shelf. Otherwise the room was furnished with modern pieces, stylish but comfortable. Family photographs were scattered about—old black-and-whites of people probably long gone, a wedding picture of Claudia and her new husband, lots of pictures of Holly.

  “Here you go.” Claudia returned with two glasses and handed one to Chloe before dropping onto the sofa. “Thanks again for bringing my briefcase.”

  “I brought your mail too.” She handed it over.

  Claudia quickly flicked through the mail, and pulled out a manila envelope. “This needs to go to Loren, actually.” She gave it back.

  “No problem,” Chloe assured her. “But enough with the mail. Are you really okay? Is Holly back at school?”

  “She is.”

  “It must have been disconcerting to see her at the site this mor-ning.”

  “I easily could have missed her too. I’d realized I’d left a file I needed at home, and after leaving Yvonne Miller at Polperro House, I decided to dash home and grab it. That’s when I spotted Holly.”

  “Did she seem okay earlier this morning?”

  “When she left for school, everything seemed fine.” Claudia kicked off her shoes, brought her feet up, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Something happened to upset her. Probably another kid made fun of her or something, so she ran away. I think she reached Pendarvis before realizing that I wouldn’t be thrilled to see her when she was supposed to be in school. Anyway, when I tried to find out what happened, she got hysterical.”

  “Poor kid,” Chloe said.

  “It happens.” Claudia made a weary gesture. “I needed to get her away, so I took her for a walk on Dark Hill. It took me an hour or more to get her calmed down. Then I took her to school, where I had to wait a while to meet with the principal. At that point I was still planning to get back to the site once Holly was settled in her classroom.”

  “And … what happened to change that?”

  “Stopping at home and finding one Investigator Higgins waiting for me.”

  “Oh.” Chloe considered. “Well, he talked to everyone he could find at the site this morning, so I guess that’s not surprising.”

  Claudia gave her a level look. “No. But as bad as it was to hear that Yvonne Miller died in Polperro House, it was much worse to realize that the investigator is obviously wondering if I pushed her down the stairs.”

  “That’s absurd.” But Loren’s voice echoed in Chloe’s memory: It doesn’t look good …

  “I have no way to prove what really happened or where I was. Holly and I didn’t pass anyone else on Dark Hill.” Claudia pressed the heel of one hand against her forehead. “Yvonne and I weren’t exactly friends. Honestly, I can hardly blame him for suspecting me.”

  “He has to begin by eliminating people from consideration,” Chloe said. She’d heard Roel­ke say that more than once. “Now that he’s interviewed you, he’ll move on.”

  “I don’t even know if I want him to move on.” Claudia abruptly rose and began to pace.

  A light prickle ghosted most unpleasantly over Chloe’s skin. “What are you talking about?”

  “If I tell you something, do you swear to keep it a secret?” Claudia sat again and leaned forward, elbows on knees.

  Chloe could almost hear Roel­ke saying No. Absolutely, positively do not swear to keep anything a secret. And Chloe trusted him on this. Even she knew that, given the circumstances, making that particular promise was a very bad idea.

  For a moment the room was silent. A car with a bad muffler drove by. Then Chloe heard herself say, “I swear.”

  “Chloe, when I took Yvonne into Polperro this morning, we had words. For reasons known only to her, she wanted to measure the root cellar. I swear she diddled around, because I could have taken measurements twice in the time she was in there. After measuring I thought she was done, but she just stood there, scribbling in that green journal of hers, totally ignoring me. Finally I said I had to go, and to please not touch any artifacts. I wouldn’t normally leave anyone alone in one of our buildings, but Loren has given her a lot of latitude, so—”

  “What happened then?”

  Claudia took a deep breath. “Yvonne said something along the lines of not needing me to dictate proper behavior, that she knew more about managing historic bu
ildings and collections than I could ever hope to.”

  What was that woman’s problem? Chloe wondered for the umpteenth time.

  Claudia’s gaze was distant. “I said ‘Look, I don’t know what I did to offend you, but I really need you to stop being so hostile.’ She said, ‘I am not willing to take orders from an incompetent fraud.’ I swear, Chloe, that’s what she called me. I sort of … sort of snapped.”

  Oh God. Chloe’s gobbled lunch curdled in her stomach. “What did you do?”

  “I told her that I would not tolerate any more of her verbal abuse. Then I turned my back and left the building.”

  “Then … ” Chloe wasn’t following. “What’s the secret?”

  Tears welled in Claudia’s eyes. “It’s possible that Holly was already on site by then. It’s possible she heard the exchange. But if nobody saw her near Polperro, I don’t want anyone to know.”

  “But … what did you tell Investigator Higgins when he asked why you left the site this morning?”

  “I told him the truth about leaving the site to run home and get the file I’d forgotten. But I sort of implied that I found Holly at home, not at Pendarvis.”

  Chloe sucked in a harsh breath. This wasn’t just keeping a secret; Claudia had lied to Higgins. And now I know that, Chloe thought. Lovely.

  “I’ll admit, I got flustered.” Claudia’s gaze beseeched Chloe to understand. “But if Higgins knew Holly was on site this morning he’d want to question her, probably alone. I don’t know what that would do to her, Chloe, and I am not willing to find out.”

  “But if someone else saw Holly on site this morning … ”

  “I know, I know, I could get caught in a lie. I didn’t think of that until after he left.” Claudia’s shoulders hunched, as if she was expecting a blow. “All I could think about was protecting my child.”

  Chloe looked at a framed photograph of Holly on a nearby end table. The girl was wearing her pretty yellow 1840s dress. She stood in Polperro’s side yard, gazing away from the camera. If the picture hadn’t been printed in color, it could almost have been mistaken for a period piece.

  “Would you keep your ears open? Just let me know if somebody mentions seeing Holly at the site this morning.”

  Chloe hesitated. She should never have agreed to keep a secret when a death was being investigated.

  But the memory of Holly’s warm weight at the meeting on Monday night was still vivid. The girl had already managed to wrap her fingers around Chloe’s heart.

  “Sure, Claudia,” she said weakly. “I can do that.”

  Back at the site, Chloe found the director’s office door ajar. “Loren?” No answer. She poked her head inside. No Loren. Chloe pulled out the envelope Claudia had given her and slipped into the office to leave it on his desk.

  Delivery complete, a framed photograph caught her attention. It showed a younger Loren in nineteenth-century farmers’ garb, holding a grub hoe in front of an old house. Two other interpreters flanked him. All three were grinning at the camera. The glimpse of this happy Loren provided sharp contrast to the man she’d seen this week, and it tugged at her heart. Chloe suspected that Loren had become the kind of permanent employee who fantasized about retiring so he could forget administrivia and volunteer at his favorite historic site as a low-level interpreter. I know the feeling, Chloe thought.

  She was turning to leave when the label of a file on Loren’s desk leapt at her: SITE CLOSURE.

  On a good day Chloe might have taken the high road. But this was not, by any stretch of imagination, a good day. She glanced over her shoulder, then flipped open the file. It contained a stack of stuff: budget summaries, notes from a site directors’ meeting, correspondence Loren had exchanged with the Historic Sites Division administrator arguing that it was folly to even consider closing Pendarvis. Way to go Loren, Chloe thought.

  Then, rifling down farther, Chloe found a photocopied letter from one Dr. Yvonne Miller written to the director of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin. Skimming, Chloe found familiar complaints: inadequate interpretation, no discussion of territorial leaders, etc., etc.

  Damn. Chloe closed the file again, wishing she’d left well enough alone. It made her angry to imagine Miller voicing her condemnation to the society’s director, but she didn’t believe that one letter would have influenced the decision to consider closing Pendarvis. Much worse were the other implications.

  Loren had obviously seen Miller’s letter. Had Claudia? If I could find it so easily, Chloe thought, so could she. If Claudia had seen it, she would have had one more reason to be royally pissed at Miller.

  Chloe heard the outer door open, panicked, and leapt away from the desk. She managed to find a modicum of composure before walking into the entry room, where Loren was shrugging out of a jacket. “Claudia asked me to leave some mail on your desk,” she said blithely, and walked on.

  In the second office, Evelyn was still faithfully minding the telephone. Chloe settled at Claudia’s desk again and began to type up her scribbled notes about artifact storage. Tried to, anyway. Between what Claudia had told her and what she’d seen in Loren’s office, it was hard to focus.

  She abandoned that task in favor of paging through the binders of collection inventory forms. An hour later, she admitted defeat. There was no record of any cast iron tool made with decorative details.

  Someone knocked on the door. “Ms. Ellefson?” Investigator Higgins asked. “May I speak with you?”

  Chloe almost yelled, Claudia Doyle’s daughter wasn’t anywhere near Pendarvis this morning! but managed to swallow the disclaimer in time. “Of course,” she said instead, in her most pleasant I am a consummate professional voice. “Why don’t we step outside so we don’t bother Evelyn.”

  She followed Investigator Higgins from the building. They stopped a short distance away where they wouldn’t be overheard. “How can I help you?” Chloe asked.

  “I understand you had an altercation with Dr. Miller yesterday morning.”

  Chloe blinked, panicked all over again. “I did?”

  “Standing on the sidewalk?” he prompted.

  “Oh! Oh, right.” That incident seemed like ancient history. Who had observed her discussion with Yvonne? Someone on the staff, or the poodle guy who’d walked by? It could have been anyone. Chloe tried to collect herself. “Except it wasn’t an altercation. More like a discussion.”

  “What were you discussing?”

  “Interpretive theory. As I said before, for some reason Dr. Miller thought very poorly of the programming here. I truly do not know why.”

  “Talk me through the exchange.”

  The man really did look like Rex Harrison. Chloe looked away, trying to keep another My Fair Lady chorus from swelling with orchestral splendor in her brain. “Just You Wait,” maybe. She’d always liked that one, and—

  “Ms. Ellefson?”

  “Sorry. I was heading up to the office yesterday morning, and saw Dr. Miller on the sidewalk, just staring at Polperro House. I stopped to say hello, and asked how her research was going. She got started on how the site should be interpreted differently. I reminded her that at any site, there are many ways to approach interpretation. Our conversation might have become … ” She discarded several words before settling on “animated. But I assure you, that’s all there was to it.” She thought back, trying to remember any pertinent details from the exchange. “Would it be possible for me to see her journal? I might catch something that you missed.”

  He frowned.

  Chloe’s cheeks flamed. “That came out wrong. I just meant that you’re not a historian.”

  Her explanation did nothing to ease Higgins’s frown. “I haven’t seen any journal.”

  “Really?” Now Chloe’s brows drew together. “That’s odd. She had it on every occasion I ever saw her, including the town meeting Monday night and our conver
sation on the sidewalk. It wasn’t in her briefcase?”

  “It was not. What did this journal look like? Spiral, three-ring binder, one of those black-and-white bound kind?”

  “No, it was distinctive. Expensive, bound in a beautiful green leather. Not that I’m a particular fan of leather.”

  The investigator gave her a quizzical look. Chloe reminded herself that he really didn’t care whether she was a fan of leather or not. “And the cover was embossed in gold.”

  “That’s helpful,” Higgins said. “Now. How long have you known Claudia Doyle?”

  Chloe didn’t like the direction this interview was taking. “Almost a year and a half. Until this week, I’d only seen her at Historic Sites Division meetings in Madison.”

  “And you had no idea where Ms. Doyle was this morning?”

  “No, I did not,” Chloe said, as calmly as humanly possible. “I didn’t know where she was until she called the site from her house early this afternoon.”

  “Very well, Ms. Ellefson,” Investigator Higgins said. “Thank you for your help.”

  Chloe watched him walk away. She felt more discombobulated than she wanted to admit, and fervently wished that Claudia had never mentioned lying to Higgins about where she’d found Holly that morning.

  Had whoever reported seeing the altercation/discussion on the sidewalk that morning made her a suspect? Or, if Claudia was prime suspect, had the investigator concluded that she, Chloe, was somehow covering for her friend?

  You’re being paranoid, Chloe told herself. Unless … She watched a squirrel bound across the lawn. Unless Claudia had lied to her too. Maybe the prospect of Holly being questioned was not the real reason Claudia was so frantic. Maybe what really worried her was something more dire. Holly might have overheard her mother arguing with Yvonne. Did that argument get physical?

  No. No, freaking, way. Chloe did not believe her friend had anything to do with Yvonne’s death.

  So … if Claudia hadn’t shoved Yvonne down the stairs, was it possible that Holly had somehow been involved in Yvonne’s death?