The Drowned Woman

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  When Helen regained a semblance of control, I poured her a glass of water left over from yesterday. She gulped it.

  ‘I’m so sorry for barging in on you, but when I heard the news—’

  ‘What news?’

  ‘There’s been a murder.’ She got the words out just as Zeke came out of the bathroom.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Who?’ Zeke said at the same time.

  Helen’s eyes welled with what promised to be a fresh spate of tears.

  ‘Who?’ Zeke asked again.

  ‘Ken Connor,’ Helen said. She buried her head in her hands and started to weep. Zeke closed the bedroom door behind him, while I tended to Helen. The only thing I could do was sit next to her, ready to offer comfort.

  Zeke came out of the bedroom buttoning his shirt. ‘I’m going to find out what’s happened,’ he said. Our eyes met. Neither one of us spoke. There was nothing to say.

  I got a fresh handkerchief out of Zeke’s drawer and handed it to Helen. While she blew her nose like a honking goose, I went into the bathroom and got her a cold washcloth.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. She held the cloth over her face. Before too long her breathing stilled, as did she.

  ‘I didn’t realize you and Ken were so close,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not that. It’s just—’

  Granna didn’t bother to knock. She burst into the room and stopped short when she saw Helen sitting on my sofa.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Ken Connor has been murdered,’ I said.

  She staggered over to the couch and sat down. The color drained from her face. She reached for her flask, held it to her lips, and changed her mind at the last minute.

  ‘This is not good,’ she said. ‘Rachel – Ken – oh. This changes everything. You see that, don’t you?’ She looked at me, trying to convey some message. Her eyes lit on Helen’s hunched-over form. ‘Helen, I think it would be best if you went home for a few days. Would you like that?’

  Helen nodded.

  ‘Then run along and pack a bag. We’ll see you home safely.’ Granna’s voice brimmed with authority.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Helen was on her feet and out of the room in a flash.

  ‘I didn’t realize that she and Ken Connor were so close.’

  ‘They’re not close. Those weren’t tears of sorrow. Helen is one of the most levelheaded young women I have ever met. Something’s frightened her. That child is scared to death,’ Granna said.

  ‘Of what?’

  Granna opened her mouth to speak but didn’t have time to put her suspicions into words. Helen walked back into the room just then, her cloth valise in one hand, her felt hat in the other.

  * * *

  Helen didn’t speak as we walked to the cottage she shared with her father in town. The shingled cottage was neat as a pin, with a rose garden in the front yard. Around the back, I caught a glimpse of a raised vegetable garden and a white sheet flapping on a clothes line, like a symbol of surrender. We stopped on the path which led up to the porch. A man stood in the shadow of the porch, watching us. I gave Helen some money, with the promise of more if she needed it.

  ‘I hope you come back, Helen,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t think so, miss,’ she said. And with a dejected air, she headed up the stairs.

  The man who waited for Helen wouldn’t meet my eyes as he took his daughter’s bag and followed her into the house. I headed back to the place I – at least for the moment – called home.

  * * *

  Three police cars were parked in the front yard when I approached the house. One policeman stood outside the open front door, while another stood just outside the patrol car, talking into the radio. Two uniformed officers came outside. Simon walked between them, his hands cuffed in front of him. Joe Connor followed behind, a grim look on his face. The officers put Simon in the back seat and drove off just as I reached them, leaving me standing in a cloud of dust.

  I ran up the porch steps and into the hallway, following the voices that were in the study. Part of me wanted to run upstairs and lock my bedroom door behind me, but I knew my duty. Zeke would want me with him. I knocked twice on the study door and opened it. Granna, Daphne, Will Sr, and Zeke were in the room. They had stopped speaking, the still hush between them creating a vacuum. Will Sr sat behind his desk, his face florid and covered in sweat. Zeke paced back and forth before the window, his limp pronounced, his cane clutched in his hand with a white-knuckled grip. Daphne sat on the sofa, dressed in breeches and her tall leather boots, staring into space, while Granna sat with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes closed.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Simon’s been arrested for Rachel’s murder,’ Zeke said.

  Chapter 10

  Zeke moved over to the fireplace. He stood before it now, leaning on his cane. He held out his hand, beckoning me to take my place beside him.

  ‘I cannot believe that Simon would disgrace me and this family with his aberrant behavior. This is intolerable. He will be removed from the firm and cut off without a penny. I shall call Mitchell Springer—’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Zeke said.

  ‘Don’t smart mouth me, young man. Simon can rot in jail for all I care, and I don’t need you or that meddling wife of yours telling me what to do.’

  ‘Shut up, William,’ Granna snapped.

  The room fell silent.

  ‘You’ll let Zeke deal with this. He’s the only levelheaded one in this family, and you know it.’

  Will Sr glared at her for a moment. We braced ourselves for battle, but nothing happened.

  ‘Zeke, what do you propose to do?’ Granna asked.

  ‘Sarah and I will go down to the station and get Simon out of jail. That’s the first step. While we’re there, we’ll find out what evidence they have. They must have come across something, or they wouldn’t have come and arrested him.’

  ‘Isn’t that obvious?’ Daphne sniffed into a pristine white handkerchief. ‘They found one of Rachel’s emeralds in his room. What can he say to that?’

  ‘We all know that Simon has not murdered anyone. Someone planted those emeralds. I plan to find out who and why,’ Zeke said.

  ‘I’ll arrange a criminal lawyer,’ Daphne said.

  ‘You will not.’ William Sr almost shouted the words.

  ‘Good idea,’ Zeke said, ignoring his father. ‘Mitchell Springer has no experience in this area. Daphne, you see to that. Sarah and I will see what we need to do to arrange bail. When we get home, Father, we are going to talk about the future.’

  ‘You do not dictate the agenda around here,’ William Sr said.

  ‘Come with me?’ Zeke asked, holding out his hand for me.

  He didn’t have to ask twice.

  * * *

  As we were leaving, Toby came down the stairs, tears running down his cheeks. ‘Where’s Papa? I want Papa.’ Daphne picked him up, making reassuring sounds as she carried him back upstairs.

  Zeke screeched out of the driveway and onto the dirt road. Soon we left the shade of the trees and were whizzing along toward town, toward the jail, toward Simon and his mess.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ Zeke asked. He didn’t take his eyes off the road.

  ‘I need to tell you about something I overheard. It’s about Simon, and you’re not going to like it.’

  ‘Surely things cannot get any worse,’ Zeke said.

  ‘He was talking to a woman named Margaret. Simon was shouting, so it was hard not to listen. She’s pregnant. I think Simon is the father.’

  ‘What did you hear?’

  ‘She said she needed money to live on, and a reference. She’s going away – she worked at the mill, I think. He promised to help her.’

  I didn’t tell Zeke about the desperation in her voice, or how I came to eavesdrop by listening down the dumbwaiter shaft. Zeke was silent for a few moments.

  ‘We need to stay here until I get things settled with the b
usiness and with my little brother.’

  ‘I know,’ I said.

  ‘I want to oust father from the company,’ Zeke said. ‘If Granna and Simon vote with me, we can take away his power. Do you mind staying here for a few months? Once Simon’s name is cleared, I’ll need to stay on and see that he’s able to handle the business. This, of course, is contingent upon the others agreeing to it.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  We parked and headed toward the stationhouse. Just as we walked into the police station, Zeke grabbed my hand. ‘I’m sorry that you have to deal with this, with my family,’ he said.

  I thought of the ordeal my father put him through last October at Bennett House. Zeke had ostensibly come to work as my father’s secretary. We discovered that he was working undercover. He hadn’t been honest with us. But then my father hadn’t been honest with him. I gave him a sheepish smile. ‘We’re even now,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, my love, I believe we are.’ He smiled and held the door for me. The clacking of typewriter keys, the voices, the sound of footsteps as officers and clerical workers busied about ceased when Zeke and I entered the building. Every single person stopped what they were doing and stared at us as we walked toward the central desk to find out about Simon.

  ‘They think Simon killed Ken Connor, too, don’t they?’

  ‘Seems like it. And Ken Connor was one of their own, so they’ll be out for vengeance.’

  ‘We’ll prove he didn’t do it. We’ll prove he is innocent,’ I said.

  ‘We will certainly try.’ Zeke turned to the desk sergeant. ‘I’m here for my brother.’

  The man behind the desk raised his eyes from the newspaper spread out before him. ‘Simon Caen?’

  Zeke leaned closer to the man, his voice low when he spoke. ‘He’s innocent until proven guilty. Take me to him. Now.’

  ‘Zeke, Sarah,’ Joe Connor called out from his open office door. ‘Let them back, sergeant. I’ll take them to Simon.’ We went into Joe’s office. He closed the door behind us and closed the blinds for privacy. Another man sat at Joe’s desk. He was short and wide, with a thatch of mousy-colored frizz atop his head. His eyes were frog-like behind thick glasses. I disliked him on sight.

  ‘Donald Bateson,’ Zeke said.

  ‘That’s Detective Bateson,’ the man said.

  ‘Naturally, I can’t work Father’s case,’ Joe said. ‘I’ll stay on the jewelry thefts, and Donald will work the murder.’

  ‘Unless we discover they are connected,’ Detective Bateson said.

  ‘You think Ken’s murder and the jewel heists are connected?’ Zeke asked Detective Bateson.

  ‘We found four more emeralds with the stolen items recovered at your home. They were in the bottom of the bag, so we missed them at first glance. Since we are operating on the assumption that whoever has the emeralds was involved in Rachel Caen’s and Ken Connor’s murder, it stands to reason that since the emeralds were found with the stolen items, the matters are related. Everyone knew that Ken was obsessed with Rachel’s case. He must have come across something.’

  ‘What a perfect set-up,’ I said.

  ‘Did you even ask him for an alibi?’ Zeke asked.

  ‘He wouldn’t tell me where he was last night. I know Mrs Winslow had a party, but Simon wasn’t there.’

  ‘I think the cat burglar and the murders are separate. Maybe the same person murdered Ken Connor and Rachel, but the cat burglar is a thrill-seeker,’ I said.

  ‘My sentiments exactly,’ Joe said.

  ‘And …’ I wanted to say Simon had been set up, but by whom? Someone in Zeke’s house?

  ‘Mrs Caen,’ Detective Bateson took a white handkerchief out of his pocket and polished his glasses. ‘I am sure that you are an intelligent woman, but you have no expertise in these matters. Don’t you think it’s best to stay home, have some children, cook some meals, and take care of your husband?’ He put his glasses back in his pocket, stood up, and headed for the door. ‘Zeke, I’ll be coming around to your house to take statements from your family. And I’ll want to speak to Simon again, so see that he doesn’t go anywhere.’

  ‘Go easy on my mother,’ Joe said.

  ‘Of course,’ Detective Bateson said. ‘Give me fifteen minutes, and you can take her home.’

  He didn’t say goodbye. He just walked out the door, leaving us in a vacuum after he shut it behind him. The three of us stood for a moment, unsure what to say to each other. Zeke broke the silence.

  ‘Donald Bateson, a detective?’ Zeke asked Joe. ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘We needed someone and most of the men are off fighting,’ Joe said.

  ‘That does not bode well for Simon,’ Zeke said. ‘Those two have hated each other since they were old enough to fight in the sandbox.’

  ‘He is a bit full of himself,’ Joe said.

  ‘You realize that I am going to work on this myself,’ Zeke said. ‘I won’t step on his toes, but that man is out to prove Simon murdered your father. I am going to be working just as hard to prove he didn’t.’

  ‘I trust you to be discreet,’ Joe said. ‘I agree with you, Sarah. I don’t think the thefts and the murders are connected. But I have a feeling that the emeralds are tied to Rachel’s murder and my father’s murder. It’s the only thing that makes sense, especially given my father’s singular obsession with proving that Rachel didn’t kill herself.’

  You have no idea, I thought.

  ‘Simon didn’t do it,’ Zeke said. ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I agree,’ Joe said. ‘Let’s take you to him. After which I am going to loiter in front of Detective Bateson’s office. I will not have that idiot haranguing my mother.’

  * * *

  The jailhouse was on the second floor of the police station. Four jail cells opened into the lobby, each cell equipped with a small cot, complete with a gray blanket and a pillow. All the cells were empty. A sole metal desk and two chairs for visitors were the only pieces of furniture in the room. An officer sat there now, reading the newspaper. Another uniformed officer stood outside a closed door.

  ‘I have him in the interview room,’ Joe said. He nodded at the officer who guarded the door.

  Simon sat at the table, his head buried in his hands. He glared at us with red, swollen eyes as we walked into the room.

  ‘Where’s Daphne?’

  ‘Home with your son,’ Zeke said.

  ‘This is so ridiculous,’ Simon said.

  ‘Stop. Just stop. I’m doing the talking now, Simon. Mind how you speak to me, or I will take my wife, leave Millport, and you can sort this mess out yourself.’

  ‘I didn’t kill her,’ Simon said, his voice full of anger and indignation.

  ‘I know it. And I’m going to prove it, but you need to lose your arrogant attitude and realize that you are in serious trouble.’

  Simon looked at me, his eyes imploring and desperate. I saw fear there, and for the first time, I realized the gravity of Simon’s situation.

  ‘Where were you last night after we met at the mill?’ Zeke asked.

  Simon took a deep breath.

  ‘Don’t even think about lying to me. Were you gambling?’ Zeke set his cane on the table and moved to the corner of the room. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. ‘Where did you get the money to pay off your gambling debts?’

  Simon said nothing. He just sat at the table, his head cradled in his hands.

  ‘You’d better tell me about Margaret,’ Zeke said.

  Simon raised his head and looked at Zeke with his swollen, bloodshot eyes. ‘What do you know of Margaret?’

  ‘I know that she’s pregnant, and that you at least had the decency to help her,’ Zeke said. ‘Really, Simon. You’re lucky Daphne doesn’t divorce you—’

  ‘Divorce me? Wait a second. You think that I—’ He laughed, a grating sound filled with hysteria. ‘You think I got that poor girl pregnant? You think I would stoop that low?’

  ‘Just tell
me what happened, Simon. Please. Just tell me.’

  ‘Not in front of her,’ Simon said.

  ‘She stays. She’s my wife. She’s part of this family.’

  ‘It’s Father,’ Simon said. ‘He led that poor young woman on and made her think that he was in love with her. He told her he wanted to marry her.’

  ‘Surely you don’t believe for a minute that our father would …’ Something changed in Zeke’s expression. He experienced a revelation, the strength of which morphed his entire being from that of surprise to anger. ‘My god, he did it, didn’t he?’

  ‘He did. It’s not the first time either.’ Simon warmed to his subject. He stood and started to pace. ‘As far as I know he hasn’t gotten any of them pregnant before, but I noticed he had an eye for the young female workers my first day on the job. And as for Margaret, she is a smart girl, a good worker. I overheard Father talking to her one day, promising her the moon.

  ‘When she found out she was pregnant, she needed help. She didn’t want to make any trouble. When she went to speak to Father, he wouldn’t even let her in his office. She came to me for help. I had to do something. Her own family has all but disowned her. I gave her enough money to get by for a year, bought her a simple gold wedding ring and a man’s gold band, to lend authenticity to her story of a dead husband. Last night, I drove her to Chesterton and put her on the train for Los Angeles.’

  Zeke sighed. ‘Okay, I believe you. I need to know where you got the money to pay your gambling debts.’

  ‘From Daphne,’ Simon said.

  ‘Where did she get the money?’ Zeke asked.

  ‘I have no idea. You’ll have to ask her.’

  * * *

  Zeke paid Simon’s bail. Fifteen minutes later we were driving home. Simon sat sullen in the backseat, not speaking to either one of us. When we drove through town, Zeke turned off Main Street and drove through a residential neighborhood. All the houses were two stories, most were painted white. Trees with gnarled limbs graced front lawns that were perfectly maintained. Zeke parked in the shade in front of one of the houses.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Simon asked.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’ Zeke switched off the engine and turned around to face his brother. ‘I’ve had it with Father. He exploits everything he touches. I’m going to talk to Granna when we get home. You, Granna, and I form a quorum. I want to vote father out of the company. We have enough troubles with the workers. His actions with Margaret are not going to help things.’