The Whispered Word

by Ellery Adams

  Nora sipped her tea. “And that’s when the keys came.”

  “That’s when the keys came,” McCabe repeated. “Feeling desperate, Ezekiel decided to kill Abilene before traveling to Miracle Springs. He didn’t plan on returning.”

  “The rubies—they’ll be returned to Abilene, right? And the watch?”

  McCabe’s smile reappeared. “Yes. The pocket watch and its contents belong to her. However, the gemstones aren’t rubies. Would you like to see another video?”

  Puzzled, Nora waved for him to bring out his phone again.

  “It will make more of an impression on a bigger screen. Could we use your laptop?”

  Nora hurried to get it. She signed in and handed it to McCabe. He wouldn’t let her see what he typed into Google’s search box, but she could tell that he’d found a video on gemstones.

  Nora hit the play button and a woman began to narrate in a silky voice.

  “This is the rarest diamond of them all,” she said. “The Fancy Red diamond. There are so few natural red diamonds that they are highly desirable. In 1987, a red diamond shattered the records for price per weight, capturing an astonishing $926,000 per karat.”

  Nora hit the pause button. “Are you telling me—?”

  Looking very pleased, McCabe said, “I am. The pocket watch held small red diamonds worth a not-so-small fortune. Joseph Tupper is a descendant of a South African Tupper who had a significant stake in a diamond mine. Joe didn’t care for the stones. He felt they were stolen from the people who rightfully owned the land and, therefore, the diamonds. Having received them from his father, he put them away for his daughter.”

  Too astonished to reply, Nora stared at the computer screen. The frozen image of the red diamond gazed back at her. Once again, Nora was reminded of the glow in the heart of an ember.

  “Does Abilene know?”

  “Andrews is at the bakery right now. I thought she could use some good news for a change. I thought you could too.”

  Nora couldn’t mimic the sheriff’s smile because of her bandaged face, but the joy of this discovery flowed through her with such a powerful warmth that she put down her tea. She didn’t need comfort anymore. Abilene was rich. More important, Abilene’s parents had reached out from the grave with a message of love. They’d had it engraved in gold. Abilene could read it over and over again for the rest of her days.

  OUR GREATEST TREASURE.

  Turning her damp eyes away from the sheriff, Nora said, “I think the message from her parents will mean more to her than a mountain’s worth of diamonds.”

  “I believe so too,” McCabe said. He carried his coffee cup to the ticket agent’s window. This wasn’t necessary, but he was clearly giving Nora time to collect herself.

  “Andrews has worked tirelessly to find Abilene’s hometown. After conversations with her parents’ former law firm, he was able to track down their address. He spoke with a dozen neighbors and learned the name of the church the Tuppers attended. Many people remember the family. Two such people were the couple entrusted with Abilene’s care while her parents went on their mission trip.”

  Nora had forgotten about this couple. “Why didn’t they check on her afterward? Didn’t they care that she’d lost her parents? That her world had crumbled and she’d been sent to live with a stranger?”

  “They had their own problems,” McCabe said. “The husband was involved in a car accident. He lost the use of his legs and, because of his disability, lost his job as well. Luckily, folks from their church volunteered to help with meals and transportation. According to what Andrews learned, this couple still receives a great deal of support from the church.”

  “It sounds like a special place,” Nora said.

  McCabe nodded. “It does. In any case, this couple, the Hubers, are eager to speak with Abilene. They want to tell her how much she was loved by her parents and they have lots of stories to share with her.” He gave Nora a quizzical look. “Do you think she’d be up for that?”

  “Not at the moment. She needs time to deal with all that’s happened to her. She also needs professional help. June is asking around at the lodge, and she’ll find the right therapist. Speaking of finding things, which books are you looking for?”

  “Abilene suggested I read these.” He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Nora. “She said they were both classics and not to be missed, so I’m taking her advice.”

  Nora read the titles Abilene had written. The Witch of Blackbird Pond and A Doll’s House.

  Torn between smiling and crying, Nora folded the paper in half and gestured for McCabe to follow her to the Plays section.

  “I have a few questions about how Tamara was able to pull off these murders,” Nora said as they walked among the books.

  “I’ll answer if I can,” McCabe said.

  Nora glanced at a cookbook cover featuring an assortment of artisan cheeses and tools with which to serve them. “Did she steal the knife from the Gingerbread House during business hours?”

  “She did. Ms. Beacham entered with a busload of guests and waited until Hester began serving these customers before slipping into the kitchen. She didn’t care whether Hester or Abilene took the fall for Crane’s murder. She didn’t give a damn about either of them.”

  Nora scowled. “I see her feminist tendencies apply only to herself. When it comes to supporting the rights and interests of other women, Tamara is an abject failure.”

  “She’d throw either gender under the bus to save her own skin. Let’s not forget Kingsley either. After years of being in business with the guy, she didn’t bat an eyelash over telling us how they went about duping their customers. Together, they’ve stolen hundreds of valuables. After amassing a nice pile, the partners would pack up and leave. They’d fence the stolen goods and move to a new town featuring residents facing an economic crisis. They were thieves and disaster chasers.”

  “That’s why Tamara never listed Jack’s antique box,” Nora cried softly. “It was small, portable, and worth several thousand dollars. I’m so relieved that he has it back. He’s going to help someone with that money.”

  They reached the section where Nora shelved plays and other drama and theater materials. “I have two copies of A Doll’s House. Each has a different cover, so I’ll let you pick.”

  “Ask me another question while I choose,” McCabe said.

  “Okay. If what Tamara told me is true, she went to Amanda’s under the guise of having a friendly chat. Mentioning Lubbock probably got her through the door. She was obviously hoping to gain Amanda’s trust and learn the location of the pocket watch. If she didn’t threaten Amanda, then how did she coerce her into writing a suicide note?”

  McCabe chose the Penguin Classics version of Ibsen’s play. “I asked the same question and the answer was surprising. The suicide note was actually cut from a letter Mrs. Frye wrote to Crane, but never sent. Over cups of herbal tea, Mrs. Frye told Ms. Beacham about the relationship. She even mentioned this unsent letter, which was in her nightstand. Later, after the spiked tea hit Mrs. Frye and Ms. Beacham pushed her into the pond, she returned to the house and created the suicide scene in the kitchen. And because you’ll probably ask this too, she didn’t search the house at that time because the neighbor let his dogs out. Ms. Beacham is terrified of dogs. She was bitten when she was very small and their barking sent her into a panic.”

  Nora stared at the sheriff. “Seriously? Is that why she didn’t return to the house later? She could have broken in and searched the place until she found the watch.”

  “After Mrs. Frye’s death, Ms. Beacham was afraid of being seen by the neighbors or a member of law enforcement. She needed Mr. Frye to do the searching for her, but she didn’t want him to know about the watch. She was afraid he’d keep it, so she told him to get as many books from his mother’s place as he could. Mr. Frye grew angry at the festival because he suspected Ms. Beacham was lying—that there was something more valuable than books in his mother’s house. M
s. Beacham promised to tell him everything at his cabin that night. And we know how that story ended.”

  Moving toward the fiction section, Nora asked, “How did Tamara know about the pocket watch in the first place?”

  “She was with Crane when he received it in the mail. He had to sign for the package, which is why the law firm sent it to his shop. He was so worked up after its arrival that she assumed the contents must be very valuable. She didn’t know about the gems, but after researching the ram’s head, she discovered that it was a Tupper family symbol. When she learned about their connection to a South African diamond mine, she concluded that the watch face must be studded with priceless diamonds.”

  “She wasn’t far off,” Nora said. She didn’t like Tamara Beacham, but she could still appreciate the woman’s sharp mind.

  Nora pulled her only copy of The Witch of Blackbird Pond from the shelf and handed it to Sheriff McCabe. He carried his selections to the checkout counter, took out his wallet, and paused.

  “I’d also like to buy a copy of the book Andrews keeps going on about. What is it again?”

  “Ender’s Game?” Nora guessed.

  McCabe snapped his fingers. “That’s the one. I hope I find the time to get through these over the next few weeks, but they’ll give me something to look forward to at the end of the day.”

  “I know you prefer audiobooks, so I appreciate your business. I also appreciate the explanations and answers,” Nora said. “I love mysteries, but in book form only.”

  The sheriff paid for the books and collected his bag. “The department owes you, Nora. I guess the rumors are true. Miracle Springs is home to a group of superheroes.”

  McCabe winked and left the store.

  Damn, Nora thought, watching the door close behind him. We’ll never shake that Night Angels nickname now.

  * * *

  The Secret, Book, and Scone Society gathered at Hester’s house to share a hearty meal of lentil chili and cornbread.

  Nora loved Hester’s Victorian-style cottage because it looked like an iced teacake. The interior was equally charming and Nora had never seen a cozier kitchen. The butter-yellow walls were covered with vintage tins, muffin pans, and advertising memorabilia spotlighting products from Hershey’s ice cream to Ritz crackers. A dozen aprons hung from the coatrack by the door. Catching sight of Nora, Hester gestured for her to grab one.

  “You’re on serving duty,” she told Nora. “I’m teaching Abilene how to make cornbread in a cast-iron skillet. I love it this way.”

  “Do I have the heat on too high?” Abilene asked Hester. She was wearing a blue-and-white checked apron and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She looked like a little girl.

  Hester repeated her instructions, left Abilene at the stove, and issued commands to the rest of her friends. Estella was asked to set the table while June was to arrange the chili fixings.

  The women moved around the kitchen, sharing stories from their day. They deliberately kept the conversation light. They danced around the subject of the recent murders, the arrests of Tamara and Griffin, the pocket watch, and the discovery of the diamonds until the chili was ready. Hester told Nora to ladle chili into bowls and pass them out.

  “Add your toppings, grab some cornbread, and have a seat,” Hester cheerfully directed.

  When it was Abilene’s turn to take a bowl of chili from Nora, she accepted the food. Instead of adding toppings, she placed the bowl on the counter. Turning back to Nora, she threw her arms around her and held her tight. She didn’t say anything. There was no need for words.

  The two women embraced for several seconds before Abilene let go, picked up her bowl, and headed to the table.

  June was next in line for chili. She wagged her finger at Nora and said, “Don’t you cry in my chili. I don’t need extra salt. It’s not good for my blood pressure.”

  Nora laughed. She felt like the tension that had held such a tight grip on her was finally dissipating. Standing in Hester’s kitchen, enveloped by the aromas of cayenne, tomato sauce, fresh cornbread, and melted butter, it was impossible not to feel warm through and through.

  Once they’d all sampled their chili, June looked at Abilene and said, “Honey, I talked to a friend of mine today. She’s a therapist at the lodge and it’s her job to help people like you. By that, I mean people who’ve been through the wringer. Her name is Dr. Lisa. She’s very nice and she’d like to meet you. She’ll come here and you’ll talk. That’s how it works. If you’re okay with this, she’d like to see you on Monday.”

  Abilene glanced at Hester. “Do you think I should talk to her?”

  “I do,” Hester said. “See it as a chance to make a new friend.”

  Still unconvinced, Abilene turned back to June. “When I was at the hospital, they asked me to fill out a stack of forms. I couldn’t, of course. I didn’t speak to anyone during my time there, but I heard the nurses whispering about contacting the police about me. Later, they explained that they were required by law to make the call after seeing my bruises and the fractured rib. I only ended up in that hospital because I passed out in a gas station restroom.”

  “Fractured ribs hurt,” said Estella. “I know. I’ve had them fractured twice and broken once.”

  Estella’s matter-of-fact tone seemed to bring Abilene comfort. In Estella, she saw a fellow survivor.

  “I don’t know if it was pain and hunger,” Abilene said. “The day I got away from my uncle . . . when he came down to the basement, I knew he was going to kill me. I fought back, but I’m not very strong. He hurt me.” She spoke quickly, shoving the words out. “When he knocked me to the floor, I thought it was over. Through a haze, I saw a book under my bed. I hit him with it. I hit him again and again until he stopped moving. Then, I went upstairs and took the cash from his wallet. He rode the bus to work, so I walked to the stop and got on the first bus. I took buses east until I ran out of money. You know the rest.”

  Since none of the women knew how to break the silence following this speech, they focused on their food.

  Nora didn’t like how the mention of Abilene’s uncle had sucked some of the warmth from the room. She didn’t want him to have the power to do that anymore.

  “After everything settles down, you can legally change your name,” Nora said. “If that’s what you want.”

  After a long moment of contemplation, Abilene said, “I don’t want the name my uncle called me. I chose Abilene for myself. But I don’t want to get rid of the name I shared with my parents, so I’ll combine them.”

  June let out a sigh. “That’s perfect, sweetheart.”

  The women finished their meals and Estella, Nora, and June volunteered to clean up.

  When the kitchen was pin-neat again, Hester asked Abilene to take out the trash.

  The second she was outside, Hester left the kitchen, running for her bedroom. She returned carrying a cake.

  “Abilene never had a birthday party. Or a cake. We’re going to change that tonight,” Hester said. “Estella, light the candles. June, get some plates. Nora, grab some forks. Hurry!”

  As soon as Abilene reentered the kitchen, Hester turned off the lights. The eighteen candles on Abilene’s cake created a soft halo in the center of the table.

  “This is for you,” Hester said. “It’s a birthday cake. The tradition is to make a wish and then blow out all the candles with one breath. Want to give it a try?”

  Abilene’s eyes shone with wonder. “Do I say the wish out loud?”

  June shook her head. “It’s better to keep it to yourself.”

  “Okay, I made my wish.” Abilene grinned shyly. “Do I blow out the candles now?”

  Estella waved at the cake. “Unless you want us to sing to you. Fair warning. I’m no nightingale.”

  Hester elbowed her. “We’re singing.”

  The members of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society sang “Happy Birthday” to the girl who’d hidden in a bookstore to be found by four women who would quickly
become like sisters to her.

  She blew out all of the candles and beamed over the applause that followed.

  When Hester cut the cake, there was another round of boisterous clapping. For under the layer of vanilla buttercream were layers of colored sponge cake. An entire rainbow of cake divided by thin ribbons of icing.

  “What’s your favorite color?” June asked Abilene.

  Abilene’s gaze turned distant. “It used to blue because I never saw the sky enough, but now, I like a I different color. The book under my bed? The one that helped me get away? It was Mrs. Frye’s. She lent it to my uncle, but he never saw it. I took it and hid it.”

  “What was the name of the book?” Nora asked, though she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.

  “The Color Purple,” Abilene said.

  Nora thought of an abused woman escaping captivity using a book about an abused woman as a weapon. The connection between the two women and the empowerment they both craved made Nora smile. “The right book can change your life. The right book, at the right time, can be your miracle.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a gift-wrapped package. Handing it to Abilene, she said, “Here’s to your new life. And to all the miracles yet to come.”

  Recalling the day Abilene had quoted Dr. Seuss to her, Nora watched her unwrap Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

  Abilene’s face glowed with delight. She opened the cover and began to read to herself.

  Nora listened to the whisper of turning pages.

  To her, there wasn’t a more beautiful sound in the whole world.

  Afterword

  I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits . . .

  —Pablo Neruda

  Nora put the finishing touches on her window display and stood back to admire the book club scene she’d created. The book club members included a plush black bear, a red fox, a barn owl, and a brown rabbit. The animals, who’d gathered around a table set for tea, were each holding a copy of Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass. Behind the table was a backdrop of birch trees made of cardboard and white glitter. Nora had attached little ledges to each tree, turning them into book displays that sparkled in the light.