by Joyce Alec
Licking her lips, Nora tried to push that thought to the side, realizing that Mr. Arbuckle was right to say it, but it wasn’t exactly relevant at the moment. “You’re wrong to think that he had anything to hide, Mr. Arbuckle. Joseph and I spent hours in his father’s study, which he’s had locked up tight since the day of his father’s death. You should have seen his face when…” She trailed off, realizing what she’d been about to say. She still had no idea who Mr. Arbuckle really was and to tell him about the paper they’d found in the study might have far-reaching consequences.
There was a long, weighty pause.
“You found something, did you?” Mr. Arbuckle said, slowly. “That is interesting.”
“It ain’t Joseph,” Nora replied fiercely, determined to stand up for him. “He had nothing to do with this. He’s more concerned about Mrs. Allan.”
To her surprise, Mr. Arbuckle looked quite pleased with this statement. “Is he, now? That is a good thing. I’m fairly interested in her myself. In fact, the very reason I’m here is because of Mrs. Allan, especially now that I found something in her sitting room.”
“My sitting room,” Nora shot back, leaning forward and picking up her own cup of coffee, which had been sitting, untouched, for some time. Strength was filling her now, chasing away her weakness and her fear. Mr. Arbuckle didn’t appear to be dangerous, and whether she believed him about his profession or not, she absolutely would defend Joseph’s innocence.
Mr. Arbuckle shrugged, clearly not even in the least bit concerned over his intrusion into her rooms. “I’d hoped you were a heavy sleeper, but my first night here proved that theory incorrect,” he murmured, looking at her with a calculating expression on his face. “I’d been desperate to get into those rooms to search them, but you always had them locked up tight. I’m afraid, regardless of your delicate sensibilities, I took my chance and searched whilst you were with Joseph in the study. I noticed the slightly haphazard tile in the fireplace and that led me to my prize.”
Frowning, she studied Mr. Arbuckle carefully, seeing the slightly triumphant expression on his face. “Prize?”
“This.”
With a flourish, he pulled back the side of his jacket and withdrew a cloth-wrapped object. It was long and slender, which immediately explained to Nora how it had been able to fit into the space in the fireplace.
“I’d reckon that space was dug out precisely so that it could hold this piece,” Mr. Arbuckle said, holding it up to her. “This ‘Mrs. Allan’ was more than she said, by all accounts. She was the person Peter wrote to me about, you see. There was something about her he didn’t like, something that made him awful suspicious about her.” He tipped his head, watching her carefully. “Think he’d overheard her talking once, to someone just outside the house. He wrote that he’d heard her whisper that it was all behind her, that she just had to keep hiding out here, in Peter’s house. He got himself all worried about what that meant. Turns out he was right. Mrs. Allan wasn’t exactly the simple housekeeper she pretended to be.”
Nora swallowed a sharp fear that began to wind its way up her chest. “Mrs. Allan?”
“Real name, Mrs. Waterstone,” Mr. Arbuckle replied cheerfully. “I found that out a long time back. Wrote to Peter about it, which was then followed by another piece of information I discovered soon after, about her sister-in-law.”
Nora dragged in a heavy breath. “She died.”
Mr. Arbuckle’s expression changed immediately. His eyes narrowed, his spine stiffened, and suddenly, he appeared a great deal more intimidating.
“Now, how did you know that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Joseph found it,” Nora stammered, unable to prevent herself from telling him everything. Quickly, she sketched out the details of the note Joseph had found in the order pages, and then with the second note they’d found only yesterday.
And then, to her very great surprise, Mr. Arbuckle smiled.
“Well, well,” he breathed, sitting back in his chair. “Go on, unwrap that.”
Nora, beginning to feel a little lightheaded after everything that had been said and everything that had been revealed to her, took a long sip of her coffee before turning her attention back to the cloth-wrapped object. Casting Mr. Arbuckle another cautious glance, she carefully unwrapped it, only to reveal a perfume bottle, long and thin with a few drops of liquid inside. It was corked, which was unusual for a perfume bottle, but still, that was precisely what it was.
Her gasp echoed around the room.
Mr. Arbuckle chuckled darkly. “As I said, there was more to Mrs. Allan than she let on, although I can’t take all the credit. Peter did a good bit of digging too.”
Staring at the perfume, Nora felt her blood freeze in her veins, remembering the order page that Joseph had found, the one that had ordered perfume for a Miss A. Waterstone.
“Peter already knew about this,” she whispered, remembering the date on the order book. “The first scribbled note about Mrs. Allan and her late sister—or sister-in-law as I know now—must have been written down when you first sent him that information.”
Mr. Arbuckle nodded. “I’d suppose so.”
“And then the second note, the one on the order page, must have had something to do with this. It was written out so it looked like an order, but it was, in fact, information,” Nora continued, suddenly hit with a fierce excitement that almost took her breath away. Slowly, everything was beginning to make sense. “He’d discovered something about the perfume, hadn’t he? And how it was related to Mrs. Allan?”
A small, sad smile clouded Mr. Arbuckle’s expression.
“Yes,” he said simply. “He did. And I’m afraid that it was what got him killed.”
The excitement washed away in a moment, her stomach turning over itself as Mr. Arbuckle looked back at her steadily, no longer appearing to be the dangerous, malevolent man that had first sat down. In fact, there was a heaviness about him that hadn’t been there before, a grief that had only just begun to reveal itself.
“I don’t understand about the perfume,” Nora said quietly, her coffee completely forgotten. “What was it Peter Shaw had discovered?”
Mr. Arbuckle chuckled sadly. “Peter always did have a sharp mind,” he muttered, his gaze drifting away from Nora. “He’d have been a great help to me if he’d ever given up this life and fancied something different. The truth is, Nora, I wasn’t quite sure what he’d discovered, not until I went and found letters he’d never quite managed to send.”
She frowned. “Letters?”
He shrugged. “You ain’t the first to go into Peter Shaw’s study. Don’t ask me how or why, but I stepped inside for a few minutes, careful not to disturb anything. I found the letters sitting on his desk, letters he’d never managed to send. One was for me.”
Her gut twisted. “When? When did you find it?”
“A couple of days ago,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on hers as though he was desperate for her to believe him. “In it, Peter wrote that he’d found out more about Mrs. Allan’s sister-in-law. Turns out she was poisoned.”
Nora’s hand flew to her mouth. “Poisoned?”
Mr. Arbuckle nodded, his lips thin. “They didn’t discover it until later, but yes, they think so.” He shook his head, his eyes dim. “Some poisons don’t show up in the features until a few hours later. By that time, Miss Waterstone’s sister-in-law—who we now know to be Mrs. Allan—had disappeared. She managed to transfer most of her monies to another account, where I’m guessing she had plans to set herself up as an independent woman after a few years of keeping her head low.”
“And the perfume vial?”
“From the letter Peter wrote me, he used his business and his suppliers to find out what was ordered the last few months before her sister-in-law’s death. He sure did a good job, finding out that she’d gotten herself some rat poison as well as an empty perfume vial.” He lifted one eyebrow, looking at Nora carefully, as though waiting for her to make the co
nnection.
“She put it in the perfume vial and carried it with her,” Nora whispered, her stomach churning violently. “By why? Why kill her sister-in-law? What about her husband?”
Mr. Arbuckle sighed, shaking his head. “I ain’t quite sure about that yet, although I’m looking for answers. By all accounts, Mr. Allan had died a year or so after they’d married, leaving her childless but with a house and business that could see her through the rest of her life. I’d reckon that Miss Waterstone was some kind of dependent, and Mrs. Allan, not wanting to have to share her money with anyone, did what she had to.”
Nora’s eyes closed tightly, struggling to take all of this in. She’d never met the woman, but even hearing what she’d done was more than enough to make her blood run cold. “Why are you telling me all of this?” she whispered, her eyes still closed. “What is it that you need from me?”
Mr. Arbuckle let his lips curve into a small smile. “There ain’t no doubt in my mind that you’re not involved in this matter in any way, Nora. You came after the disappearance of Mrs. Allan and never knew Peter Shaw, by all accounts.”
“I only wrote him a few letters,” she replied, her stomach seemingly filled with a heavy weight that dragged her spirits low. “We were meant to be married.”
“Yes, I know,” Mr. Arbuckle replied quietly. “But, even though I can make a good enough guess that Mrs. Allan killed Peter Shaw in the same way she killed her sister-in-law, I have to be certain that Joseph ain’t got anything to do with her.”
Her eyes flew open. “Of course he wasn’t involved!” she exclaimed, not understanding how Mr. Arbuckle could even think something so terrible after what he’d explained to her. “It was clearly all Mrs. Allan’s doing! She must have discovered that Peter Shaw had found out who she really was and decided to put an end to him.”
Mr. Arbuckle nodded thoughtfully, his eyes glinting. “That’s a decent theory, and one I’m inclined to agree with, but by all accounts, Joseph was quite close to his housekeeper. Billy says they were often up talking late into the night, as though she was the listening ear he needed since Peter wasn’t the kind of man to give much away.”
She froze in place.
“That ain’t what Joseph says,” she replied slowly, her fingers knotting together as she clasped them in her lap. “He says she was quiet, that she didn’t say much at all.”
“Then someone ain’t telling us the truth,” Mr. Arbuckle said firmly, his eyes fixed on Nora, who felt herself tremble inside. “You’ll need to find out the truth from Joseph. He’ll talk to you more than he will to me.”
She shook her head, her eyes squeezing closed. “I always thought Mrs. Allan was an older sort, closer to Peter’s age than to Joseph’s. I mean, no one’s ever said, but–”
“Oh, no,” Mr. Arbuckle laughed, the sound harsh and callous as it rang around the kitchen. “Mrs. Allan was about the same age as you, I reckon, if not a few years older. Pretty too, by all accounts. Whatever makes you think she was old enough to be his mother?”
Nora couldn’t answer, her stomach dropping to her toes.
“Joseph could have had a motive, just as much as Mrs. Allan,” Mr. Arbuckle continued, when she didn’t say anything. “It might have been the shock of finding his father that kept his mouth shut when it came to Mrs. Allan’s sudden disappearance, or maybe he knew she needed time to get away. The business is his now, entirely. Perhaps that’s what he always wanted.”
As she listened to Mr. Arbuckle speak, Nora’s mind shut down entirely, refusing to accept what he was suggesting.
“You’re wrong about that,” she said as firmly as she could. “Whether or not Joseph’s told me the truth about Mrs. Allan or not, I know he ain’t the kind of man to kill his father. There’s things he’s told me that I can’t just set aside because you say so.” In her mind’s eye, she could see him again, see how broken Joseph had been as he’d spoken to her about how little he’d known his father and how much he wished for more time with him. She couldn’t accept that he’d had anything to do with the loss of his father.
“Then you’re gonna have to prove it, Nora,” Mr. Arbuckle said slowly, leaning forward in his seat to pin her with his sharp, dark eyes. “Talk to him. Find out the truth. And then come and tell me.”
12
Joseph left the house without eating. He didn’t want to see either Mr. Arbuckle or Nora this morning, his heart still heavy and sore. There was so much going on in his heart and mind that he could barely think straight, aware that he had to just carry on with his business just as he always did but not quite certain how he was meant to find the strength to do just that.
Running one hand through his hair, Joseph hurried to the general store and opened it up, stepping inside and closing the door tight behind him. No one would be coming by for at least an hour, and he needed that time to try and prepare the store and get the orders ready to hand out. Billy would be along soon enough, but for the moment, Joseph was glad for the quiet.
Unconsciously, he began to go into the back and pick out the things ordered by some of his customers, barely aware of what he was doing. His mind wouldn’t leave Nora, no matter how hard he tried. Over and over, he kept seeing her pale, frightened face, as she’d covered her mouth with her hand, tears dripping down onto her cheeks. His heart tore afresh with each recollection. He’d been the cause of that. He’d taken out his pain and suffering onto her, when she’d just been doing her best to help him. Of course, she’d not understood the agony that had torn through him at the thought of his father’s possible murder, how could he expect her to? She’d just been trying to think things through clearly and hadn’t intended to bring him any more pain.
He hung his head, resting his hands on the table in front of him, dragging in breath after breath in an attempt to fight off the tears that had sprung to his eyes. It felt as though he were being dragged down into a dark hole somewhere, with everything closing in around him. If his father had been murdered, then that brought a deep, unrelenting heaviness to his soul that only compounded the grief that tore through him. And now, to have Nora turning away from him, added to the agony he felt. He needed her. He needed her beside him to help him get through what was already a horribly difficult situation, and instead, he’d managed to turn her away from him altogether.
“Joseph?”
His head shot up as the door opened and a familiar voice came towards him.
“Nora?”
Her face was milk-white, her eyes round as she stopped, hesitant, on the threshold.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, only to stop and realize just how brusque he sounded. “I mean, come in, please. I’ll get the door.”
Moving towards her, he saw her step aside, away from him, as though afraid he might hurt her if she got too close. Clenching his jaw, he pulled the door closed and turned the key in the lock, making sure that they wouldn’t be disturbed. His chest rose and fell with ever-quickening breaths, his mind scrambling for something to say.
“Nora, I–”
She had turned away from him, wandering along towards the other end of the store, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. Joseph watched her as she walked, taking in the stiffness of her spine, the way her shoulders were rising up with the very same tension he could feel rifling through him.
“Nora?”
He kept his voice soft, going towards her carefully, not wanting to rush this moment. He had to find the right words to apologize to her. He had to explain what it was he had been feeling in that moment, all in the hope that she’d forgive him and come back to that warm, friendly intimacy they’d only just begun to share.
“Please, don’t walk away from me.”
Whispered words escaped his lips and hurried towards her, making her stop dead. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her eyes sparkling with shimmering tears.
“I’m sorry, Nora,” he said at once, taking a few steps towards her and wishing he could reach forward and take her hands. “I should
n’t have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry for chasing you away.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“You were trying to help, I know,” he continued, growing almost desperate for her to say something. “I know you didn’t mean to be callous, but I guess I took it that way and that made me speak harshly to you. Do you think you can forgive me for it?”
Her blue eyes were swimming with tears now, her lips trembling as they pressed together. Joseph hung his head, his breath coming from him with a sigh. He’d done more damage to her than he’d realized.
“Tell me about Mrs. Allan.”
His head shot up.
“How old was she?” Nora asked, her chin lifting just a little. “You told me she was a fairly quiet lady, that she didn’t share much with you or your father.”
“That’s right,” Joseph replied slowly, aware of his gut twisting but ignoring it completely. “What does this have to do with my apology for yesterday, Nora? I’m trying to tell you how sorry I am for being so harsh with you.”
“I know that,” she replied, taking in a shuddering breath. “But that ain’t important right now. I need to know about Mrs. Allan.”
Frowning, Joseph placed one hand on his hip, defensiveness rising up in him. “Why?”
A single tear dropped onto her cheek. “Cause I’m certain you ain’t told me the truth about her, Joseph.”
Ice ran over him.
“You told me she was a quiet sort,” Nora continued, her eyes fixed on his. “You told me she kept her affairs to herself, that she never made much conversation.”
“Yes, I did,” Joseph replied firmly. “What about it?”
She tilted her head and another tear escaped to run down her cheek. “Because that ain’t what Billy says, Joseph.”
A lump formed in his throat.
“He says you were awful close with Mrs. Allan,” Nora continued, her voice hoarse. “He says you sometimes stayed up late to talk, just like you’ve been doing with me.”
Shame washed over him, flooding him entirely. “No, nothing like you,” he replied, his voice cracking. “I didn’t say anything, Nora, because I didn’t want you to think that–”
