* * * * *
Caera, Claudia. and Ana half-walked, half-ran the distance from the school to the library. When they got inside, Claudia led the others to the book that she had Xeroxed on her last visit.
"There aren't any more books on it?" Caera practically whined.
"I don't guess there are. I looked all over the history section before I came to the reference section. And this was all I found, just a few pages about the town. But..." Claudia paused before continuing, "do you think that the library has got any really old books, like in an archives building?"
"It might, but I've never seen them or heard anything about them." Ana sounded a bit doubtful.
"Well the only thing we can do is ask!" Caera smiled broadly and then headed for the receptionist's desk at a brisk pace. If there was one thing that Caera had, Claudia reflected, it was nerve.
A few minutes later, Claudia saw Caera returning with a librarian.
"...and of course we don't get many people your age asking about it—You'll see why in a minute—but it really is the most interesting section of the library. Oh, are these your little friends?"
Caera cringed at the "little friends" part, wondering how long she could hold her sarcastic retorts in check. After all, she looked so nervous and mild, wouldn't she be pretty easy to cut down to size? Claudia saw the gleam in Caera's eyes and elbowed her when the librarian's back was turned.
"Just follow me now, children." Caera's face was turning red but she trudged silently behind Ana.
The librarian took them through the offices at the back of the library and then past a room housing microfiches. The room that they finally entered into was musty and cold. The wood on the floor looked new, but the walls were made of shriveled boards that gave new meaning to the word "ancient".
"If you'd come in about a month you wouldn't have seen these," the librarian pointed to the walls. "They're all that's left of the original building. You see, this was the only room there was when the library was built back in 1794. Of course, over the years the floor had to be re-done a few times—"
"Of course." Caera mimicked.
"...most recently in 1986, I believe. Ah, but the walls have survived. Of course, they, too, have to go. I think they'll be replaced, what is it, the twenty-first of December? Of course, the Christmas holidays is the best time to do it. Everyone's taking time off, you know. We get so few books checked out then. Still, it is a sad thing--" she broke off when she saw that the girls were getting fidgety.
"Oh well, have a look around, and let me know if you have any problems or questions or--" she looked at Caera, "whatever." The librarian hurried out the doorway, and Claudia sighed with relief. She was wondering how much longer Caera would refrain from giving the woman a piece of her mind.
"Boy, what was her problem?" Caera grumbled. "Honestly, you'd think we were five years old."
"I think she could tell you weren't pleased, Caera."
"Yeah, but she didn't have a clue as to why. I tell you, she'd notice if I talked to her in that patronizing tone."
"Will you two quit it," Ana yelled from somewhere in the room, "and help me look through these books?"
Caera gave a shrug and walked off in a different direction from Ana, while Claudia started searching down an aisle somewhere between them. Twenty minutes later, they were still looking, when Claudia shouted,
"Hey, I think I've found something. Com'ere you guys!" Ana and Caera rushed over. "Look!" Claudia held a large and tall but very thin book. Most of the gold lettering had worn away, but the words were indented underneath.
"'People and places of the Eighteenth Century' What year was it published, Claudia?" Ana had her head bent so far over the book that she was blocking the light, so Claudia bent it sideways to see.
"I think it says 1817, but the words look so flowery that it's hard to read it. What a weird printing style. I can't tell the “p's”, “f's”, and “s's” apart. Anyway, that wasn't what I called you over for. Look here, in chapter three—local news," she thumbed the pages over carefully, "it has the complete family tree of Emma's relatives, or as complete as they can make it, anyway." Claudia held out the book so that they could all see it.
"We must be descended from Collin Alexander Campbell." Caera mused aloud.
"Why did it have to be Alexander?" Claudia asked, only partly serious.
"Really, Claudia. I don't see why you guys can't just bury the hatchet with the Davenports."
"Try telling them Ana. They're the ones with attitude problems." Claudia threw back.
I don't think Alex's attitude problem is what you've made it out to be. Sure, they used to be jerks, but Alex seems a lot nicer this year, if you know what I mean, and I think Andrew's just a little shy and doesn't want to admit he's had a change of heart—"
"Come on, what heart?" Claudia laughed cheerfully. Ana's words made sense, but Claudia wanted to resist the logic of it. She didn't want to raise her hopes that the feud would be over with only to find out the Davenports were just playing another joke on them. She could almost see their faces sniggering at her for falling for it.
"All right, let's try to remember why we're here," Caera said. "We've got Emma's uncle John, her cousin Collin Alexander, and great uncle Ian Alexander here on this family tree, and they're all possible suspects."
"But Caera, they're our ancestors," Claudia said, in sudden realization. "We could be descended from a murderer!"
"Isn't everyone?" Caera threw back calmly.
"Huh?" Claudia said.
"Well, back in the day, everybody was killing somebody," Caera explained. "The cowboys killed the Indians, the English killed the French and vice versa, the Indians and Africans killed each other until the English came in and fought with them, and--just look at Australia. It was a penal colony, you know. An island of exiled prisoners who left England so that they wouldn't be hanged!"
"Wow!" Ana breathed. "Maybe you have a point there, Caera," she added.
"How's that for making you feel better, eh Claudia?"
Claudia was slightly appeased. "Okay, so, maybe that's why Emma's haunting us. So that we can make amends for one of our ancestors, the real murderer, whichever one he was, if it wasn't Mr. Davenport."
"Maybe." Caera agreed.
"So, who stood the best chance of inheriting the fortune?" Ana wondered. "If we're thinking about motives, we should suspect the person who was directly in line of inheriting."
"Let me check and see if the book says anything about that," Caera said, skimming the pages. "Hmmm. The beginning paragraphs talk about how the Campbells left Scotland and what was going on that made them leave, et cetera, et cetera...
"Ah, here it is—oh, this part tells what happens to them after they get to America. 'With the wealth he brought from Scotland, Duncan Campbell was able to buy a large plot of land. He also looked after his younger brother, Ian Alexander, who had come with him over the ocean.
"'With the arrival of more immigrants to the colony and to the growing town, the Campbells invested in several thriving industries, and their business flourished, giving Mr. Campbell the money to expand into the cane sugar and tobacco trade—Ew!" Caera interjected.
"Just continue with the story, Caera. There's nothing you can do about what happened hundreds of years ago."
"Right. Okay, Duncan married Elspeth MacRae, a Scotch-Irish woman. '"Her dowry"', Caera wanted to make comments on this sexist tradition but bit them back, "'was a small piece of land even farther out, about five miles from town. Elspeth had her first baby, John in April, 1726. Duncan and Elspeth also reared Ian Alexander like a son.
"Yeah, well, anyway, the next paragraph talks about boring stuff—how Duncan Campbell increased his and his younger brother's shares of their father's fortune. You know, business deals and so forth. Then in 1729,James Campbell is born. Elspeth dies in childbirth.
"'John marries Marie Dubois in 1748 and in 1749, they have a son
, Collin Alexander. They move back to live with John's father for a while, and then for some reason John and his father argue, and later, John is disowned and moves far away with his family to Boston."
"Really?" Ana's eyes were wide with surprise. "Did anyone know why?"
"No. Well, at least the author of this book didn't know why. It just says that Mr. Campbell makes his younger son James his heir."
"Well, what happens next?" Ana asked.
"'In about five years, James marries Emma Douglas, of Virginia. Susanna Campbell is born in 1754 to John and Marie. Emma Campbell is born in 1755 to James and Emma. For three years, James keeps in touch with his brother without his father's knowledge. There's a note here that the letters were destroyed in 1926 when the archives building burned down. Then in October of 1758, Emma, that's James' wife Emma, catches pneumonia and dies—"
"Caera!" Claudia exclaimed. "You caught pneumonia in October!"
"I know, it's giving me the creeps just thinking about it." Caera shivered.
"Then lemme read it, Caera," Ana begged until Caera handed the book over to her.
"'In 1758, Duncan was out on business and attacked by highwaymen and shot! Meanwhile, James' endeavors prospered and made him a considerable fortune, much greater than his father's had been and even greater than his brother's. Hearing of the Van Cortland mansion in New York, James decided to invest his money in building a Georgian mansion called Argyll House.
"'Marie Campbell died in 1761. James invites Emma's cousins and his disinherited brother to live in Argyll House for a while. John Campbell acquired a house in town in 1763.
"'When James was murdered in 1768, Emma was supposed to go to town where John Campbell lived until her inheritance was settled. Emma Campbell was murdered one week to the day after her father. On her death, John inherited James' estate, most of the fortune having vanished, and he passed it on to his children years later.'"
"Well, that just about sums it up." Caera said. "It looks like John did it."
"Don't be so insensitive." Claudia complained.
"Uh oh, I sense a fight coming on," Ana thought to herself, perceptive in a way that came naturally after being around the twins for more than a day. She decided to break in and change the subject.
"Well, so who do you guys think was the killer?" It worked, and both Caera and Claudia instantly forgot about arguing.
"I thought it'd be someone in the family, but it looks as if it could've been that Aaron Davenport after all."
"Not really," Claudia contradicted, rather hastily, Caera observed. "Reason suggests that it was the person who stood to gain the most. That'd mean it'd have to have been John."
"But we can't make assumptions until we have evidence." Ana made the statement she'd heard in all of her favorite mysteries, which she'd been saving for the occasion. Caera and Claudia agreed with the sensibility of her reasoning, and a few minutes later, they headed outside to wait for Mrs. Robinson, who was taking them all home.
Unfortunately, Jason had just finished a driving lesson and was determined to show off his newly acquired skills to his sister and her friends with particular smugness. It was moments like these, Caera reflected, that she got down on her knees and thanked God she didn't have an older brother.
Thanksgiving
Monday morning dawned dark, gloomy, and miserable. After staying up too late the night before, not to mention Friday and Saturday night, when Caera went to bed, she was so tired she couldn't close her eyes. In what felt like one second, her alarm clock was sounding.
Dragging herself out of bed, she walked into the hallway towards her and Claudia's bathroom. Turning the handle, she discovered that the door was locked, and, to rub salt in the wound, almost immediately, splashing noises sounded from within.
"Sorry, Caera, I'm taking a bath. You'll have to wait five more minutes." Caera figured that Claudia must have been feeling pretty pleased with herself. For the past week Claudia had flaunted the fact that she didn't have a ton of make-up work by being as lazy as she possibly could. And now she was taking a bath during prime time for the bathroom!
"I bet she's taking a bubble bath. It'd be just typical." Caera thought to herself. Needless to say, it was a good fifteen minutes before she could get into the bathroom. After changing her outfit at least three times, Caera managed to pull on her shoes before stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"No time for breakfast," she thought to herself as she grabbed for the box of breakfast bars. What with her work being the way it was, she was getting used to the staples of a life on the run. Apparently, her mother was, too; her lunch money was waiting on the counter. All that was left was to pick up her schoolbag and put her toothbrush in it. After all, she figured she may have been out of time, but she didn't want to have peanut butter breath until lunchtime.
When Caera and Claudia arrived at school, Caera went directly to her locker, where she was bombarded by questions from friends who hadn't received invitations to the Campbell Christmas Party yet and who were obviously worried about being neglected. Caera tried to assure everyone who was invited and avoid those who weren't, but she just wasn't in the mood for conversation.
Caera started when she heard Brian Goodman and Justin Porter arguing, wondering how she had managed to sleepwalk her way to fourth period P.E. from her locker that morning.
"Yeah, why don't you just show off for us, Porter—"
"And why don't you just keep your big mouth shut, Goodman?"
"Uh oh, looks like trouble." Caera thought to herself. For the first time that year, the boys' and girls' P.E. had combined, and she could see that the situation was causing some negative feedback. They were all standing in the school gym, (somehow, Caera had dressed out while still in zombie form) waiting for Coach Poleman to lead everyone outside. The day was warming up, but even if it weren't, they'd still have had to go outside, anyway.
All the assembled company was wearing the school P.E. kit, (the school was very strict on this point) shorts and T-shirt in the school colors of gray and blue, which didn't exactly prepare them for or insulate them against the sometime arctic conditions of the area. Apparently, Coach Poleman felt like taking advantage of one of the last warm days of the year.
As for Brian Goodman and Justin Porter, P.E. was their favorite class because they could try to show off in front of the girls. Maybe that was because they couldn't show off any other way, Caera reflected dryly.
Justin, one of the school's fastest runners, (a position he was all-too-aware of and never let anyone else forget, either) seemed to provoke the hostilities of "The Good Man" every time he flexed his muscles in front of the girls. As the group got outside, however, Coach Poleman hushed everyone into complete silence and then shouted something incomprehensible before lining everyone up and giving them the signal to begin the race. They were all to run ten laps around the school (or jog or walk as the case usually was).
As Caera passed the front entrance for the third time, she wondered if she, Claudia, and Ana were ever going to figure out the mystery of Emma's death. Since her bout of pneumonia, she hadn't had one single dream about Emma, whereas before, she had dreamed about her nearly every night without even wanting to, and neither she nor Ana and Claudia could think of any new ideas about Emma's murderer.
Caera's thoughts were interrupted as Brian Goodman whizzed past and grinned at her.
"Smile!" Caera wondered if he thought he was being cute but couldn't help beaming back, anyway. After all, unlike the Davenports, he was at least friendly.
A little bit later, Caera and Claudia ran side by side at an even pace; way out in front, Justin and Brian along with several other boys, were trying to outdo one another. Both Caera and Claudia were physically fit, and by the end of the run, the steady pace had paid off. As they had made each lap, Susan Davies had handed them each a short bit of cut-up, plastic drinking straws. Now both girls dumped the straws and sat down on the curb of the parking
lot to wait for most of the others to finish.
In the end, both Brian and Justin came in within a few seconds of each other, but Justin was still gloating over his victory when the last runner, George Stuart, the tissue-box fiend, staggered past the flagpole and collapsed with a feeble sigh. Caera made a personal note to herself to offer George a little advice before the next Physical Fitness Test. He'd probably love to do as well as his brother David for once, and she knew she could somehow make the suggestion without alluding that anything was wrong with him.
As for Caera herself, her health was almost 100% back to normal after her long illness, and though she had lost a little weight, she was feeling stronger every day. Swimming lessons helped with this. Since the survival trip, when her quick thinking and strong capabilities as a swimmer had helped save Andrew, she was eager to go to the classes on Thursday afternoons. One day, she had even spotted a new face in the beginners' class. It wasn't all that difficult. Andrew had at least five years and fifty pounds on everyone else in the baby pool. She'd had to hand it to him, though. It took real courage to dare to be seen in arm rings at his age.
What Emma Left Behind Page 36