When Joe and Zeke burst through the door, I looked up at them, the emeralds in my open palm.
Zeke’s eyes locked on the stones. He was by my side in two steps.
‘Where did you find those?’ He put the emeralds back into the tiny felt bag.
‘In this bag at the bottom.’ I nodded at the rucksack.
‘Give the emeralds to me, please.’ Joe held out his hand. Zeke gave him the emeralds.
‘Did you touch anything?’ Joe asked.
‘I may have touched some of the items in the bag,’ I said.
‘That’s okay,’ Joe said. ‘We’ll take your fingerprints at the station tomorrow, so we can eliminate you. Zeke, we’ll take yours, too.’ He opened the bag, surveying what it held. ‘These are all things that were recently stolen. Sarah, you say you found them in the desk?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The canvas bag was in that drawer.’
‘And what were you doing in here?’ Joe asked.
I tried to speak but stumbled over my words.
‘What were you looking for? Never mind that. I’ll deal with you later. I need to see Simon. Meanwhile, Sarah, keep your nose out of this. I’m not kidding. And do not breathe a word of this to anyone. Zeke, I expect you to get a handle on your wife.’
‘Fine,’ Zeke said.
‘What the hell are you doing in my room?’ Simon bellowed. He stood in the doorway, a bottle of champagne in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.
‘He’s drunk,’ Joe said under his breath.
‘You’d better come in here,’ Zeke said, ‘and shut the door behind you.’
Simon stepped into the room and had almost shut the door when Will Sr burst in behind him.
‘You’re both being rude. We’ve dinner guests—’
Alcohol fumes came off the two men in waves. At least Will Sr was steady on his feet. He pushed Simon aside and walked to the desk. He started to pick up one of the necklaces, but Joe pushed his hand away.
‘Please don’t touch that, sir. It’s evidence.’
‘Evidence of what?’ Will Sr asked.
Joe shook his head. I didn’t envy his position. ‘This is stolen property. We found it in Simon’s desk,’ Zeke said.
‘I blame you for this,’ Will Sr pointed at me.
‘Do not take that tone with my wife.’ Zeke spoke through clenched teeth.
‘I’ll take whatever tone I choose,’ Will Sr said. ‘This is my house, and you brought this little tart here to make trouble for all of us. I swear, I ought to throttle you.’
Zeke leaned his cane against the desk, freeing both of his hands. He met his father’s eyes. The room was silent. Joe stepped back. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me away, too. Simon didn’t say a word. He sat on the couch watching Zeke and his father square off. Zeke would make quick work of him, cane or no cane, in a physical fight. Will Sr took a deep breath. He shook his head and moved away from Zeke.
‘I don’t want any part of this. Simon, if you’re in trouble, you’ll have to get yourself out of it. I’m going back to my guests.’ He lumbered out the door, slamming it shut behind him so hard that a picture fell off the wall.
‘Simon, what is this?’ Joe pointed at the pile of stolen goods.
‘I swear I’ve never seen it,’ Simon said.
‘Is this how you’ve been paying your gambling debts? Are you the cat burglar?’ Zeke couldn’t keep the disdain from his voice.
‘My gambling debts are none of your business,’ Simon said. He stood and set the champagne bottle on the coffee table. He surveyed the stolen items. ‘I’ve never seen this stuff before.’
‘I should arrest you, but I’m not going to because I believe that if you did steal these things, you would not be stupid enough to leave them in your desk,’ Joe said. ‘You need to come down to the station tomorrow. I’ll take your statement and your fingerprints. If you’re lucky, I won’t have to arrest you. If you don’t show, I’ll find you and lock you up myself.’ He picked up the phone and asked the operator to put him through to the police.
* * *
Joe had somehow managed to keep our discovery a secret from the dinner guests. We all knew that by morning the entire town would know what we had found in Simon’s desk. Joe arranged for a detective to come and take the stolen items to the police station, where they would be catalogued as evidence and eventually returned to their rightful owners. Zeke and I slipped out the French doors and drove into town, grabbing a hamburger at the only late-night diner in Millport.
We didn’t speak of what we had found in Simon’s desk – the jewels stolen by the cat burglar and the emeralds stolen from Rachel Caen’s body. But the implication of Simon’s involvement in Rachel’s murder hung over us like a dark cloud, a portent of what was to come.
Chapter 7
I woke up to bright sunlight streaming in my bedroom. The spot where Zeke should have slept lay empty, the sheets in a mess where he had lain. The faint scent of him lingered. A piece of my new stationery, folded in half with my name scrawled across the front, rested on the pillow.
My love, Went to the mill. We can check into a hotel if you wish. Will discuss this afternoon. Z
‘Good morning, miss.’ Helen moved through the doorway, holding a tray loaded with food.
‘Put it out there. Be with you in a moment,’ I said. I stood and wrapped the aqua silk dressing gown – a wedding present from Zeke – around my naked body, savoring the feel of the silk against my skin.
In the sitting room, Rachel’s portrait looked down at me, a reminder of the events of the previous night. I ignored it and watched Helen as she fussed with a carafe of orange juice. The tray was laden with toast, bacon, eggs, and a large coffee pot.
‘Bacon. Oh, how I have missed meat.’
‘I’ve heard there isn’t any to be had in the City,’ Helen said. She poured me coffee and handed me the cup and saucer.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard about what happened last night.’ I sipped my coffee, not meeting Helen’s eyes.
‘Everyone’s talking about it downstairs,’ Helen said. ‘Mr William is furious with Mr Zeke, and with you, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so. He says you had no business going into Simon’s room.’
‘I couldn’t help it. I got lost on the way to the kitchen.’
‘But he didn’t steal those things, miss. I’m certain of it. He wouldn’t have done.’ Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
‘You’re fond of Simon?’
‘He’s been a good friend,’ she said. ‘And he wouldn’t do anything that would take him away from Toby. He loves that boy more than—’ Helen held her tongue at the last minute. ‘Mrs Griswold doesn’t know that I dust his room and press his clothes. She wouldn’t approve, with Simon being a married man. But he’s so kind and generous. He knows that I need to save money, to make a better life for myself. I’m saving for school. I want to be a teacher. Simon – Mr Simon – gave me twenty dollars at Christmas.’ She plumped the cushions on the chairs and picked up my clothes from the evening before.
‘I’ll just take these and press them for you. Will you be needing anything else?’
The stack of Dr Geisler’s handwritten notes taunted me. I did have work to do. ‘No. What are you going to do today?’
She gave me a startled look as though she were surprised that I would ask such a question, as though she were surprised that I cared.
‘After I tend to this lot—’ she held up the clothes piled over her arm ‘—I was going to help my dad at home. We have a victory garden, and the tomatoes are coming on. I told him I would help with the picking. If that’s okay?’
‘Of course,’ I said.
* * *
I worked all morning, taking comfort in the sound of my typewriter keys clacking on the platen. The hours flew by. Daphne surprised me when she came in at one o’clock, still wearing tight breeches and high leather boots. Several dresses hung over her arm.
‘Am I disturbing you? I knocked, but you didn�
��t hear.’ She laid the dresses over the back of the couch.
‘Not at all.’ I put the typed pages into an envelope to be mailed to Dr Geisler, stuffed everything else into the top drawer of the desk and stood, stretching my neck. Toby, also dressed in riding clothes, burst into the room. He came to an abrupt halt when his eyes lit on the typewriter. His mouth opened in shock. He looked at his mother, looked at me, and moved toward my desk. When he got close, he stopped and stared.
‘May I please touch it?’
‘Of course,’ I said.
‘Thank you,’ he said. He rubbed the typewriting machine as though it were a puppy or a horse. ‘I like the sound of the keys,’ Toby said. He skipped over to Rachel’s portrait and stared up at it for a second, while Daphne and I watched. ‘Rachel says to remember your promise, Aunt Sarah.’
I dropped my coffee cup. A brown stain bloomed on the clean carpet.
‘Toby, stop talking nonsense,’ Daphne snapped.
‘I’m not talking nonsense,’ the little boy said. ‘I mucked out Seadrift’s stall all by myself and now I can get a pony.’
‘Sweetheart.’ Daphne moved over to Toby and squatted down in front of him. ‘I think it’s time for you to go change your clothes and wash up. Lunch will be ready soon.’
‘That’s good because I’m really hungry. Do you think there will be any cookies for me?’
‘I bet there will be. Now run along.’
Toby kissed his mother’s cheek, waved at me, and ran out of the room.
‘That’s the kind of thing that will start the gossip. Granna tells him ghost stories. She’s very good at it. Scares the child half to death, but he loves them.’
‘Toby’s got a vivid imagination.’
‘Oh, that he does.’ She stood with her back to me, plucking the dead leaves and brown blooms off the flower arrangement she had given me.
I put the envelope for Dr Geisler into my document case and covered my typewriter.
‘Do you like your work? I’m surprised Zeke doesn’t want you to stay home – no, I take that back. Zeke is the type of husband who would give his wife free rein.’ She sighed. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are.’
‘Surely Simon—’
‘Oh, no, Simon lets me have my freedom. It’s my mother. She placed so many expectations on Sophie and me. She’s managed to suffocate both of us. I manage somehow. Thank god for Seadrift and Toby, of course, but my poor sister is bored. She’s desperate to do something with her life, get out of Millport, go to college, but my mother won’t let her.’ She walked over to the dresses and picked up a floor-length, midnight-blue velvet with a plunging neckline. ‘I’m sure my mother will be formally dressed this evening, so I brought some dresses for you.’
‘I did bring one floor-length gown,’ I said, as I opened the wardrobe and took out my best dress.
‘Oh, that’s lovely.’ Daphne fingered the heavy black silk. ‘It will look beautiful with your pearls.’
‘Excuse me.’ Helen knocked on the door and stuck her head in. ‘Mrs Griswold sent me to tell you that sandwiches and lemonade will be served on the patio in fifteen minutes.’
‘Thank you, Helen,’ Daphne said. ‘Would you please tell Granna to have Toby ready? I know the child is starved. He really did work hard this morning.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Helen said.
‘Helen, I’ve spilled coffee on this carpet. If you’ll bring me some damp rags, I’ll clean it.’
‘Don’t worry, miss. I’ll take care of it,’ Helen said.
When Daphne and I were alone once again, she said, ‘Will Sr won’t be eating with us, Sarah. If it makes you feel better, I promise not to leave you alone with him.’
‘He was so angry last night,’ I said.
‘William reminds me of a volcano,’ Daphne said. ‘Once he blows, he goes dormant for a while. And here’s another secret: despite his abrasive manner, he will respect you if you stand up to him.’
‘Like Zeke? He stands up to him. There’s no love lost there.’
‘Really? Why would you say that? Zeke is William’s favorite.’ She laughed. ‘You just watch the way he looks at Zeke. Zeke’s the only one of the bunch with a backbone. Just watch. You’ll see what I mean.’
She said goodbye. I washed my hands and face, and had just entered the sitting room, when I heard someone crying. I moved over to the door of the dumbwaiter and opened it, just as Daphne had shown me. It was like turning on an intercom.
‘… it’s not like I had a choice.’ The woman’s voice had taken a hysterical turn. She was sobbing uncontrollably now.
‘I cannot believe this.’ Simon’s shouting made matters worse. The woman started a fresh spate of sobs. ‘This has gone on long enough. I’ve had it. I swear to you, Margaret, I’ve had about all I can handle.’
‘Don’t you dare act as though this is my fault.’ The sobs were replaced by tearful shouting now. ‘What am I supposed to do? With a baby? Me? I’ve very little money. The only thing I know how to do is run a stupid sewing machine. And do you think I’ll get a reference or any help from your father? I won’t. You know it.’
‘I’ll figure something out,’ Simon said. ‘Please, just trust me. I’ll help you get through this. We’ll get things handled, together.’
‘I’ll need to go away,’ the woman said. ‘I’ll need enough money to live while I train for something. I don’t mind hard work, I just need some help.’
‘And I’ll see that you get it, of that you can be sure.’
They must have moved to a different area in the study. Their words were mumbled now. Try as I might, I couldn’t understand what they were saying, despite doing everything short of sticking my head down the dumbwaiter shaft. I stood up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My shoulders and hair were covered with dust. I changed my shirt, Simon’s secret heavy in my heart.
… not like I had a choice. The girl’s words kept running through my head. Had Simon forced himself on her?
Chapter 8
Daphne drove Granna and me to the Winslows’ in an old Chevy sedan. She whipped along the country lanes at breakneck speed. Granna, who sat in the passenger seat, whooped with joy as we bumped along. I clung, white-knuckled, to the sides of my seat, expecting us to crash and roll any second.
‘If the workers go on strike, the mill will all but shut down,’ Daphne said. She jerked the wheel, just in time to dodge a pothole.
‘Now that Zeke’s here, Will Sr will have to give way. Those women deserve fair wages. Everyone knows the equipment needs updating. You just watch. Zeke will fix it,’ Granna said. ‘And if they don’t fix—’
Her words were lost as we hit a rut and all four tires left the ground.
‘Daphne, please,’ I said.
She looked at me, a smile on her face.
‘Better slow down on the Winslows’ drive,’ Granna shouted.
‘I will,’ Daphne said. ‘Mother will be furious if I kick up dust.’
She slowed to normal speed as we turned into a wooded lane, which looped and curved around oaks with gnarled branches.
The house was very similar in size to the Caens’, but where Zeke’s family home was comfortable in an unpretentious way, the Winslow house was immaculate. Even nature didn’t dare defy Arliss Winslow. Not one shrub was amiss, not one leaf out of place. A white tent had been set up in front of the house with tables arranged around the circumference and a dance floor in the center. A trio played music while people milled around, sipping champagne from glasses kept full by the white-coated waiters. Behind the musicians, a myriad of other instruments rested in stands, all in readiness for the dancing that would take place after dinner. Torches would provide light after the sun went down.
I vowed if Zeke didn’t show up by the time the dancing started, I would slip away from the party and take the footpath back to the Caen house for the quiet evening I coveted.
‘I won’t leave you alone if you don’t want me to,’ Granna said, as we headed up to the
porch. She was dressed in a floor-length linen dress with a tall matching hat, forty years out of date. She wore the ensemble like a queen. Daphne walked before us, up the walkway to the front door which stood open.
‘I need to go find my mother,’ Daphne said. ‘Granna, please behave yourself, if not for my sake, then for Sarah’s.’
‘She thinks I’m going to make a scene. Arliss and I do not get along very well.’ Granna took a swig from her flask and offered it to me. I shook my head, unable to stomach whisky in the oppressive June heat. ‘I can’t face Arliss Winslow without whisky in my belly, and I’m not ashamed to admit it,’ Granna said.
The Winslow house didn’t have a proper foyer. The front door led into a big, open room, with high ceilings and a fireplace large enough to hold a side of beef with room to spare. The floor-to-ceiling bookcase which took up the entire wall held a smattering of books, their spines too pristine to have been read. Most of the shelf space was filled with Oriental vases and statues. The furniture had been removed from the room, with the exception of a few chairs. Tables set with chafing dishes were nestled in one corner. Uniformed maids moved around with purpose. In the background, Arliss Winslow hovered, barking out orders. People started to arrive in droves now, most of them stopping at the tent outside for the proffered champagne.
‘Maybe we can go outside and avoid her altogether,’ I said to Granna.
‘That is not the way to deal with Arliss.’ She grabbed my arm with a hawk-like grip and whirled me around.
‘Shut that front door. I don’t want the guests coming in here now. I want them in the pavilion until dinner is served.’ Arliss’s imperious voice rose above the hub.
She wore a long silvery dress. Her hair had been arranged on top of her head and held in place by an honest to god tiara. I wondered if she expected us to curtsey. I giggled. She looked down her long nose at me.
‘Where’s Zeke?’
‘He’s at the mill. He’ll be here.’
‘I’d have thought Zeke would want to be by your side when you make your entrance into Millport society.’
‘Millport society?’ Granna guffawed. ‘Trying a little too hard, aren’t you, Arliss?’ Granna took a step closer to Arliss and gazed up at her without fear.
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