The Whispered Word

by Ellery Adams

  “Want to know a secret?” Nora asked as she squeezed in next to Abilene.

  Abilene took Nora’s hand again. “Yes.”

  “Nora isn’t my real name. I didn’t like my old one, so I changed it. Just like you.”

  “Really?” Abilene perked up for the first time since Nora had discovered her on the landing, clutching the bloody knife. A tiny spark ignited in her pupils.

  “Really. Your parents named you after a book character. I picked a book character too. I chose Nora after the heroine in Ibsen’s A Doll’s House.

  The spark in Abilene’s eyes grew brighter. “Nora Helmer,” she said. “Why her?”

  “Because she throws away her old self to become something more. I believe you can do that too.”

  Abilene stared at the underside of the upper bunk, as if wondering what was possible for her. “Before you were Nora, who were you?”

  “If you tell me some things, then I’ll tell you some things.”

  * * *

  When Sergeant Whitfield opened the cell door the next morning, Nora was curled up next to Abilene, her arm draped protectively around the younger woman’s waist.

  Nora heard him coming, but she hadn’t wanted to move. She’d been surfacing from sleep when the sound of his footfalls had pulled her the rest of the way out. Though tempted to close her eyes and keep reality at bay for a few more minutes, she sat up. Her mouth was filled with sand, her eyes were dry, and she ached everywhere.

  “Time to go, Ms. Pennington.” The sergeant didn’t bother whispering.

  Nora shook her head. “What can I do to stay? I’d rather not slap you, so is there a coworker you dislike?”

  A ghost of a smile appeared on the sergeant’s face. “I don’t recommend that, ma’am. The sheriff’s going to drive you home and he’s had a very long night. The way I see it, you can help your friend better from the outside.”

  Abilene stirred and sat up. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. “You’ll come back for me.”

  Her throat tightening with emotion, Nora promised that she would. She then followed the sergeant out of the cell.

  The sergeant turned her over to McCabe, who was leaning against his car. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was wild, and the bags under his eyes had a gray-blue cast.

  “I’m sorry,” Nora said.

  “No, you’re not. But I appreciate the sentiment.” He opened his passenger door. The action reminded Nora of the night they’d had dinner together at Pearl’s. She doubted McCabe would ever want to share a meal with her again.

  McCabe had left her purse on the seat and Nora was tempted to check her phone for messages from the Secret, Book, and Scone Society members, but she decided to wait until she was home to connect with her friends.

  The sheriff slid into the driver’s seat and sat quietly for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Virtual Genie never operated out of Lubbock or anywhere else in Texas.”

  “Oh.” Nora’s voice was small. “I—”

  “I’m not finished.” McCabe turned to face her. “I was unable to find any previous locations for a business by that name. The only record I found on Griffin Kingsley was a New York State obituary. That Mr. Kingsley died last year. As for Ms. Beacham, I located numerous records. Too many to dig through last night. One struck me as significant because it was another obituary. From Florida. I can’t help wondering if the partners are using stolen identities.”

  Despite her fatigue and a powerful yearning to shower and drink a giant mug of coffee, Nora’s mind began running through possibilities. “I think the watch is the key to your cases. The books were only relevant because the watch was hidden inside a book. Amanda was killed by either Ezekiel Crane or Griffin Kingsley when she refused to turn over the hollowed book. The same man killed Kenneth. The same man was the target of Kenneth’s anger at the Fruits of Labor Festival. Considering Ezekiel was just murdered, Griffin gets my vote. I saw his face when you showed him that watch.”

  McCabe put the car in DRIVE and exited the parking lot. “After I drop you off, I’m going to call the owner of the building Virtual Genie is leasing. I want to know every detail about that lease. But don’t get your hopes up. Even if Mr. Kingsley and Ms. Beacham have been operating under false pretenses, I can’t link them to the murders at this juncture. There’s no evidence.”

  After contemplating in silence for several minutes, Nora said, “Last night, Abilene and I talked. She told me what she could about Ezekiel’s death. She’d just taken a shower and was heading into the kitchen to make supper when she heard footsteps on the other side of her door. Next, she heard a grunt followed by a thud. Something heavy had fallen. She heard more footsteps going down the stairs. Abilene was scared by the strange sounds, so she hid in the bathroom. When everything had been quiet for several minutes, she dared to peek out her door. She recognized her uncle immediately. She saw the knife sticking out of his back, close to his left side. She wasn’t sure if he was dead or not.”

  “Maybe she didn’t know what dead looked like,” McCabe said.

  Nora realized this was probably true. Most children experience death through the loss of a pet or an elderly family member. This was a difficult milestone. If a child was lucky, he or she received support from parents, teachers, or a mentor.

  Not Abilene. She had no parents, teachers, or mentors. She had only her uncle. Like most things, she’d undoubtedly learned about death from books. But she’d never seen it up close.

  “Abilene’s desire to protect Hester was so powerful that she was able to muster the courage to pull the knife out of her uncle,” Nora said, continuing her narrative. “This caused a fresh flow of blood. Abilene had never seen anything like that. It paralyzed her.”

  McCabe shot her a glance. “Anything else?”

  “If Abilene’s story is true, then someone else killed Ezekiel. Someone determined to get that pocket watch.”

  “Which is in our custody,” the sheriff said. “It doesn’t add up, Nora. The killer would have no hope of obtaining the watch.”

  McCabe stopped the car in the Miracle Books parking lot and kept the engine running. Nora got out, but immediately turned back to face the sheriff. “What if you gave him hope?”

  Though McCabe was practically buzzing with impatience, his curiosity convinced him to tarry a few seconds longer. “You have an idea on how that could be accomplished, I take it.”

  Nora managed a tired smile. “I do.”

  * * *

  Nora’s plan required the help of several people. After a shower and a cup of coffee, she was able to put her thoughts down on paper. From that point, she began making phone calls.

  Every time she enlisted another person, she was assailed by doubt. Not only was she gambling with Abilene’s freedom, but she was quite possibly endangering her friends as well.

  There’s no other choice, Nora told herself en route to Virtual Genie. If I don’t do something now, Abilene will be a prisoner forever. She’ll hide so deep inside herself that no one will ever find her again.

  As Nora walked, she noticed the beauty surrounding her. The morning sun bathed the park, and the maple trees held the golden light captive. Dried leaves skipped over the sidewalks like children heading home from school. The hills encircling the town were a kaleidoscope of squash yellow, pumpkin orange, and apple red. The postcard setting seemed surreal following yesterday’s traumatic events, but Nora gathered strength from the colors and the scents of wood fires and dried hay. Like many of the faces she passed on the street, the scents were familiar. Comforting. They spoke of home, of the place where she’d found her second chance, and she’d do anything she could to protect it.

  This meant confronting a murderer.

  Griffin Kingsley was seated at his massive desk. He had a cell phone pressed to his ear and his gaze fixed on his laptop screen. Nora paused near the door to look at the framed quotes from One Thousand and One Nights, the fabric draping the walls, the glimmerin
g chandelier, and the plush sofas and chairs in the sitting area. She thought of Tamara serving exotic drinks and chocolate, and suppressed a grimace. If this was all just an act, then Griffin and Tamara were masters of deception.

  Nora sat down and waited for Griffin to finish his call, but Tamara came out of the back room, caught sight of her, and came over to greet her.

  “Ms. Pennington. Hello.” Her voice was friendly but strained. Like Sheriff McCabe, Tamara had bags under her eyes. This was hardly surprising, considering the apartment above Virtual Genie was now a murder scene. “Is Abilene—?” She stopped and started again. “Have you seen her?”

  “Yes.” The word echoed with weariness. “It’s been a long night, but I wanted to drop by and tell you that she won’t be back anytime soon. I’m not sure what will happen with her.”

  Tamara shook her head. “She can’t have done it. There’s no way.”

  “I think she’s innocent too,” Nora said. “Not that the sheriff’s department cares what I think. There’s too much stacked against her. She’s a stranger to Miracle Springs, she knew the dead man, and the murder weapon was in her apartment.”

  Tamara’s eyes went round. “No.”

  Nora stood up. “I’ll do what I can. And if you and Griffin think of anything that might help exonerate her, please share it.”

  “Of course,” Tamara said.

  “Speaking of helping, I found a sold listing for a pocket watch similar to the one Sheriff McCabe showed Griffin. Yesterday, before all this craziness happened, I was looking up book values on my favorite auction site and I decided to see if I could find anything similar to that watch.”

  Tamara was confused. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me about it. Doesn’t the sheriff have the watch?”

  “Yes, but he hasn’t had time to do any research.” Nora made a show of hesitating. “I was just hoping—which is probably stupid of me—that the watch could shed a little light on this crime. If Griffin could prove to the sheriff how valuable it is, then McCabe might consider other suspects besides Abilene. If the watch was the motive, that is.”

  “I’m not following you,” Tamara said. The whole conversation had her flustered. She glanced over at her partner more than once to see if he’d finished his phone call. “Griffin won’t be long. I’m sure he’ll be able to help. I’m sorry, but I need to get back to work.”

  Nora didn’t have a chance to reply because a female deputy entered Virtual Genie and strode up to Tamara. “Ms. Beacham? I’m Deputy Wilcox.” She introduced herself without offering her hand, making it plain that she was there in an official capacity. “I need to speak with Mr. Kingsley as soon as possible. Can you ask him to wrap up his call?”

  Tamara didn’t have to do anything, however, because as soon as Griffin spotted the deputy, he put his cell phone down. The deputy headed for Griffin’s desk, taking a plastic evidence bag from her uniform blouse pocket as she walked. Tamara followed the deputy with her eyes.

  The front door opened again and Estella breezed in. She wore a dark skirt suit with a white blouse and a string of pearls. Nora thought she looked like the CEO of a Fortune 500 company.

  Tamara shifted her gaze from the deputy to Estella. She went stiff all over, as if preparing for a fight. Nora knew then that Jack’s antique cloisonné box had yet to be listed and that Tamara assumed Jack and Estella were romantically involved.

  “Good morning, Ms. Sadler.” Tamara produced a cool smile. “I was just going to ask Ms. Pennington if she’d like anything to drink. I can ask you both now.”

  “It’s early, but I wouldn’t mind some of your special Belgian chocolates,” Estella said in a silky voice.

  Tamara’s forced smile stretched a bit thinner. “Of course. Ms. Pennington?”

  “Nothing for me, thank you.”

  Tamara hurried off to retrieve the chocolates. She’d barely set a silver tray bearing a gold box of chocolates down on the coffee table when Jack walked through the door. He glanced at Tamara before his gaze landed on Estella. His eyes narrowed in indignation.

  “I thought you came here to find out about my box,” Jack said to Estella. “Looks like you’re more interested in that box of Belgian chocolate.”

  “Belgian?” Estella spluttered. “This chocolate is not imported. It’s drug-store chocolate, the kind you give as a last-minute gift when you’ve forgotten someone’s birthday. See? I have proof.”

  Reaching into her voluminous handbag, Estella pulled out a yellow box with green script. “This sampler has the same chocolates as the Belgian box.” Estella selected an oval-shaped chocolate from the drug-store box and an identical chocolate from the gold box Tamara had given her. She broke each piece in half and showed Jack and Nora the nougat innards. “Looks the same.” She took a nibble from each candy while glaring at Tamara. “Tastes the same.”

  Tamara was nonplussed by the demonstration. “We ran out. The order from our usual vendor was delayed and we didn’t want our customers to be disappointed.”

  “You ran out?” Estella held up the yellow box. “Because Virgil’s wife is a client of mine—Virgil collects your trash, by the way—and his wife told me that you’ve thrown out a bunch of these drugstore chocolate boxes.”

  Ignoring Estella, Tamara turned to Jack. “I’m sorry about the slip up with your listing. Your item is ready to go live at noon today. I know I originally said it would be ready at nine, but we’ve had a tragedy.” She gestured at Estella. “There’s no need for this.”

  Completely affronted, Estella bolted her feet. “This place is a sham. From your chocolate to your rented furniture to your promises about listings. It’s a total sham!”

  Tamara glanced in the direction of Griffin’s desk, clearly seeking help, but he was leading Deputy Wilcox to the back room. He moved with urgency. Nora could see sweat beading his forehead.

  “Excuse me,” she said, leaving Tamara to Estella’s mercy. She hurried through the opening in the fabric and appeared in the back room just as Griffin was sliding the pocket watch out of the evidence bag onto his gloved palm.

  Deputy Wilcox stood close to the worktable while still allowing Griffin space to maneuver. When she looked up to see who’d entered the cool, shadowy space, Griffin transferred the pocket watch to his left hand, leaving his right hand free to dart into his jacket pocket. Though Nora believed she knew what he had in his closed fist, she couldn’t let her gaze linger.

  “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to give Griffin this printout”—Nora removed a folded sheet of paper from her purse—“and I’ll be on my way.”

  Deputy Wilcox passed the paper to Griffin. Instead of unfolding it, he gave Nora an inquisitive look.

  “I did a little research on that.” Nora pointed at the pocket watch nestled in the palm of Griffin’s hand. “I thought we could combine forces. For Abilene’s sake.”

  “I’ll do everything in my power to help her. She’s a sweet and hardworking young lady,” Griffin said with such sincerity that Nora almost believed him.

  He unfurled the fingers of his right hand and deposited several tiny watch keys onto the worktable. Nora stared at them, a cold dread blossoming in the center of her chest. Had she been wrong? Was she attempting to entrap an innocent man?

  Griffin selected one of the keys. He didn’t try to fit it in a keyhole, however, and Nora realized that he was waiting for her to leave.

  At that moment, Estella burst into the back room. Hands on hips, she glowered at the shelving, the photography area, and finally, at Griffin.

  “Can a person press charges if the owners of a business don’t live up to the terms of their contract?” she asked Deputy Wilcox.

  “Ma’am, you should take this up with the consumer protection office. I need Mr. Kingsley’s time and attention.”

  Tamara was waiting to show Estella out through the back door. Estella hesitated, but when Deputy Wilcox gave her a stern look, Estella settled for hissing, “This isn’t over,” before following Tamara to the exit.<
br />
  “She’s just upset about Abilene,” Nora said to Griffin by way of explanation. “My friends and I have grown close to her. What happened last night has us all turned inside out.”

  Tamara, who’d already returned from showing Estella the door, gestured to Nora. “I have a key to the apartment. If it’s okay with Deputy Wilcox, I could let you in to get clothes or toiletries for Abilene.”

  Deputy Wilcox inclined her head before turning back to Griffin. “Any luck?”

  “Not yet,” he said.

  If Nora’s theory was correct, Griffin would make a big show of trying a dozen different keys. In truth, he had no intention of opening the watch for Deputy Wilcox or anyone else from the sheriff’s department. Nora didn’t know what secrets were hidden inside the watch, if any, but she was certain that Griffin wanted them to remain hidden.

  Tamara ascended the stairs leading to Abilene’s studio apartment without speaking. Nora was grateful for the silence for she was struggling to face the staircase again. She hated this space. Hated the crime scene tape, the stained stairs, the cloying chemical aroma, and the gloom. Averting her eyes from the outline that had been drawn around Ezekiel Crane’s body, Nora willed Tamara to hurry up and unlock the door.

  As soon as she was inside Abilene’s pathetic home, Nora regretted her impatience.

  Tamara closed the door and leaned her back against it. Her face was taut with anger and she held a gun in her hand. It was a small pistol. A dainty, shiny weapon perfectly capable of delivering death.

  Tamara was pointing the barrel at Nora’s chest.

  Right at her heart.

  Chapter 17

  The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because generally they are the same people.

  —G. K. Chesterton

  “You should have kept your nose in your books.” Tamara sneered. “You three put on a good show downstairs. You, Diner Boy, and that Magnolia Spa bitch. I won’t enjoy killing you, but I’d love to take a shot at her.”