by Blythe Baker
“That’s too true…” I said.
He sighed on the other end of the line. “Look, Mrs. Lightholder…I don’t know about this window having any connection to Sam’s death, but I will certainly look into it.”
I frowned. “I’m not certain it has any connection either, but it struck me as strange.”
“It’s not the first time we’ve had reports of robberies recently, though the reports typically come when those who were away end up returning home,” he said. “I’m certain the Mayfields will be pleased to hear that some citizen was kind enough to let us know about the break-in.”
I nodded, trying to find a way to get Sergeant Newton to tell me anything else that might be helpful about the case. He was certainly reasonable, but that didn’t mean he was going to willingly give me any information that he didn’t think I needed.
After all, I wasn’t with the police, not officially, and I didn’t have any reason to be involved with their business.
“And I should warn you…” he said, dropping his voice. “There are some here at the station who would not take kindly to learning that you called, attempting to interfere once again – ”
“I am not attempting to interfere,” I said.
“Yes, I realize that,” the Sergeant said. “But there are some who would believe otherwise. Those who were not all that fond of Sam’s work ethic, nor his inflexibility when it came to the rules. I daresay there are a few who are happy he’s gone.”
Goose pimples formed on my arms. Was he trying to tell me that they believed it might have been one of the officers at the station who caused all this?
“Those same people are the ones who despised Sam for trusting someone outside the force, someone like you,” he said, his voice even lower. “Hypocrites, I know, but they didn’t like that he could be a favorite for following the rules, yet be able to get away with breaking them at the same time.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I muttered.
“Neither did he,” Sergeant Newton said. “Which isn’t a problem, exactly, but it certainly didn’t make him any more friends.”
That didn’t strike me as something that would have greatly mattered to Sam, in the end.
“If I were you…” the Sergeant said. “I would keep my distance from this whole business…for your own peace of mind. I wouldn’t want you getting caught up in any of the tension happening around here in the aftermath of his death.”
The same sort of warning that Sam would have given me, though in a much kinder tone. Out of respect for his friendship with Sam, he wanted to try and protect me.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” I said, rather solemnly. “I will do my best.”
“Well, Mrs. Lightholder, I need to be getting back to my work,” he said, his tone a great deal more casual now. “I appreciate you letting us know about the window, and I promise you that we will find out what happened to Sam. It may take some time, but we have our best men on the job.”
“I’m certain you do,” I said. “And thank you.”
“Have a good day, ma’am,” he said, and then hung up the other end of the line.
Regretfully, I placed the receiver back in its place.
Well, back at square one…I thought to myself.
I certainly did appreciate the Sergeant doing what he could to protect me from the situation in which I found myself. I didn’t want to get caught up in the troubles happening within the police department. It seemed there was more going on there than I’d ever learned about from Sam. Perhaps he was simply unaffected by it, or even uninterested in people’s petty ways.
Sergeant Newton had warned me, though, to keep my distance. He didn’t want me getting involved. I believed him when he said it was for my own sake, and for my safety. But he didn’t realize the sorts of things I’d been through since moving to Brookminster, the terrible sides of people I’d already seen.
He didn’t know about my tie to the military, or Roger and his spying, or Sidney and his chasing me around the country, just to steal some letters Roger had written to me.
No…there was a great deal that Sergeant Newton didn’t know. To him, I was nothing more than a young woman with a compassionate heart, only wanting to learn the truth of what happened to my friend.
He didn’t know that I knew what it was like to see someone’s life fade away, because of my actions. I wondered if he’d ever watched someone die, or had to escape someone who was trying to kill him?
In his line of work, especially with his position as a Sergeant, he likely had. But I was sure he never would have expected that of me.
I supposed it just went to show that there was a great deal more to people than what we could see when we looked at them.
I realized I could let it all consume me, and despair in the truth of it. Or I could do what I had done before, and solve the mystery surrounding Sam’s death.
I decided the latter was the better choice. And to do that, I was likely going to need some help. Someone who would be able to help me connect the pieces, find hints and clues to Sam’s life that might have been missed before.
I would have to trust the investigation of the different police officers to Sergeant Newton. It was obvious that he cared about Sam, and that he had truly considered him a friend. I knew that sort of undertaking would be far too much for me to handle alone.
So I had to leave it to him. And I would.
But that didn’t mean I was stepping out entirely.
Not when something else could have happened…something that only I would be able to discover.
6
I realized soon after my phone call with Sergeant Newton that there was a way I could still help with the investigation that would keep me entirely out of the way of the police. They wouldn’t even know I was looking into the matter.
The idea came as soon as I went to have afternoon tea with Irene, who had been worrying over me for the last two days.
Sitting in her kitchen, she stared at me across the table, a look on her face like a mother watching her child go through their first heartbreak, helpless yet empathetic.
“I’m sorry you had to experience all this all over again,” Irene said. “And so soon after your relationship with him had started to…well, started to bloom, really.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “To be honest, Irene, as wonderful as Sam was, and as much as I cared about him, I wasn’t entirely sure that I had romantic feelings for him. He was a good man, and I know that he would have taken care of me…but there was something in me that just couldn’t find peace with being with another man. Not yet.”
Once again, I found myself wanting to tell her about Roger, that he was the reason why I couldn’t find peace with the idea of being with Sam. Knowing he was alive, yet not knowing exactly where that left our relationship, did not make me feel as if I had any right to pursue anything else with another man.
The only hint I had that Roger still loved me was that crushed lily I’d found in the rock, which was now hidden safely away between the pages of a book in my room. And if he was still alive, did that mean we were still married in the eyes of the law, even if the rest of the world believed him to be dead?
I had no idea what it all meant, but I did know that I wouldn’t have been able to pursue anything with Sam until I did know, one way or another.
“I know, dear…” Irene said, absently spinning her spoon inside her teacup, though her sugar must have long since dissolved. “I can’t ever imagine being with anyone else besides Nathanial. But even still, it was clear that Sam really cared about you…he had opened himself up to you, and seemed receptive to the idea of something happening between you both.”
I tried to swallow, but my throat had gone dry. “It makes me wonder what his last thoughts might have been…” I said. “I imagine he was frightened, but was he upset because of what I’d said? Or hopeful?” I laid my head down in my arms, which were folded on the table. “I hope he was hopeful…even if I had no intention of following throug
h.”
“Oh, sweetheart…” Irene said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand affectionately.
“This is why I need to figure out what happened to him,” I said, lifting my head. “I feel responsible, in a way, for what happened, and I – ”
“Oh, not this again,” Irene said, shaking her head. “My dear, why is it that you always feel responsible for other people? There is nothing you could have done – ”
“What if I had gone out for dinner with him that night?” I asked. “Would that have gotten him away from that alley, so he couldn’t have been attacked like he was? Would he still be here?”
“Helen, you are going to drive yourself utterly batty,” Irene said. “Please, you cannot torment yourself thinking these things. It amazes me how you can ever get any sleep…”
I pulled the teapot toward myself, and refilled my cup. “What I need to do is find out exactly who in his life might have had a grudge against him,” I said. “The police won’t help me. Sergeant Newton told me quite blatantly that I needed to keep my distance. He also made it seem like there may have been some men on the force who held grudges against Sam, and they needed to be investigated. How can I be sure that it was just among the police? What about enemies in his personal life?”
I lifted the lid of the sugar bowl, and plucked a few cubes out before stirring them into the hot, steaming tea.
“Which got me thinking…” I said, bringing the tea to my lips, inhaling the earthy, fragrant scent. “There is so little I know about Sam’s family. I understand they lived here in Brookminster for many generations. His father was a member of the city council, very well known and liked. I heard that his grandfather owned a farm outside of town, one of the biggest in this part of England. And perhaps the most familiar piece of information would be that Sam had a brother, Walter, who had some sort of bizarre romantic relationship with my aunt Vivian that ended rather abruptly.”
“Yes, that is all true,” Irene said. “And to be perfectly honest, that is about as much as I know, as well.”
I sipped the tea, hesitant as the hot liquid burned my upper lip.
“There has to be more to him than that,” I said.
“Well, what about his friends?” Irene asked, laying her chin in one hand, the other drumming on the tabletop. “Did he ever mention any?”
“There weren’t many chances for those sorts of conversations,” I said. “I can’t remember him ever discussing anyone…apart from those who had died, or you and Nathanial.”
“And I certainly would not have considered us more than acquaintances with him,” Irene said.
I tapped my own fingers on the table.
“I wonder what his relationship was like with his family,” I said. “I know he was protective of his brother, but what of his parents? Are they still in town?”
“Oh, yes,” Irene said. “His father is retired now, but they live just on the outskirts of the village, where they purchased a small farming property. As far as I know, they had a good relationship, but Sam’s work always kept him busy. Sometimes I stop and talk with Mrs. Graves at church on Sunday, and she always seems quite chipper.”
I scratched the side of my cheek. “Was there ever another Mrs. Graves?” I asked. “Surely I can’t have been the first woman that Sam ever found remotely interesting.”
Irene’s brow furrowed, her grey eyes glued to her teacup. “Oh, dear, I’m not entirely sure…” she said. “Before you came to Brookminster, I cannot be sure I would have paid much attention to his personal life very much. He could have very well been married at one point, but I never would have known.”
The door to the teashop opened, and Nathanial stepped through with Michael trailing along behind.
“Hello, dear,” Irene said, looking over at the two and smiling. “How was closing up?”
“Fine,” Nathanial said. “Though Mrs. Georgianna wished to stay and chat, of course. Apparently her daughter recently gave birth to her third grandchild.”
Irene smiled. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about this new bundle of joy,” she said. “And you, Michael? Did you help your father?”
“Yes,” Michael said, smiling, walking over to us to give his mother a hug. “I helped him bring all the tablecloths into the laundry.”
“Wonderful job, my boy,” she said, kissing his cheek. She looked over Michael’s head to Nathanial, who had also walked over to the table. “Tea, dear?”
“Yes, that’d be lovely,” he said.
“Oh, sweetheart, perhaps you can answer this question for us,” she said. “Do you know if Inspector Graves was ever married?”
Nathanial looked back and forth between the two of us. “Investigating again, are we?”
I smiled sheepishly up at him.
“No, he was never married,” Nathanial said. “It said as much in his obituary.”
“Did that come out today?” I asked. “I didn’t even get the paper.”
Nathanial nodded. “Let me get it for you.”
He retrieved it from the kitchen counter and set it down on the table between us.
“Come along, Michael, we should get you changed for supper,” Nathanial said, laying a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Let’s leave Mummy and Mrs. Lightholder to their tea.”
Michael began happily chatting about a book he’d read that day in school, while Nathanial nodded and agreed at the appropriate times.
Irene picked up the paper and flipped through until she located the obituaries. I watched her eyes scan the page. “Ah, here,” she said, setting it down before me on the table.
It was rather short, and to my surprise, explained nothing about Sam’s life apart from his career. It was as if that was his entire life, and all anyone knew him for.
Frustrated, I looked away. “There has got to be more to him than his job as Inspector,” I said.
“Well, short of going to explore his home, I doubt we are going to be able to find out much more,” Irene said.
I glanced over at her.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she warned.
“I don’t even know where he lived…” I said. “That’s the sort of thing a friend should know, isn’t it?”
Irene sighed. “I’m sorry. I suppose so, yes.”
Nathanial returned a moment later. “Michael seems determined to read another chapter of this book before we have dinner,” he said, taking a seat beside his wife at the table. “You know, as I was back in his room, I realized that Sam never had a wife, but I do think he had a sweetheart some years back.”
Irene’s eyes widened. “Oh, how could I have forgotten? Yes, there was someone. Oh, what was her name…” She snapped her fingers, her face screwing up with concentration. “Oh! Her name was Valerie Price, wasn’t it?”
Nathanial nodded. “I believe so, yes.”
“Oh, good heavens, I can’t believe I forgot about her…” she said. “I suppose it wasn’t so much her that I had forgotten as it was Sam in that situation.”
“In what situation?” I asked.
Irene glanced down the hall to ensure that Michael would not be able to overhear. “About, what, three years ago, Nathanial? Yes, during the summer festival, right in the middle of the village, in front of everyone, Sam and this Valerie Price got into a heated argument. At least, I remember her side being quite heated. She was furious about something, though I can’t remember what.”
“She accused him of secretly seeing someone else, didn’t she?” Nathanial asked.
“Oh, that’s right,” Irene said. “Well, somehow this had all come out during the festival, and she chose then to ask him about it. Her accusations seemed flimsy, but Sam was left standing there in the middle of the street, entirely helpless, as she yelled at him in front of everyone.”
“Yes,” Nathanial said. “It was uncomfortable for everyone. I remember someone attempting to soothe her, trying to talk to her, but she just shoved them off and continued on her rampage.”
“So had he been unfaithful
to her?” I asked, now a great deal more curious.
“I have no idea,” Irene said. “It seemed to us that he was trying to assure her that he had never done anything like that, but she seemed determined to believe otherwise.”
My heart skipped. “Do you think it was possible that she still harbors feelings for him?” I asked. “Or anger toward him for humiliating her?”
“Humiliating her?” Irene asked. “Oh, come now, dear, I think you missed the point of the story – ”
“Well, from her perspective, she was humiliated,” I said. “Especially if she really believed what she said was true.”
“I have a hard time believing she was doing it for more than the attention,” Nathanial said. “She was always that sort of woman, who enjoyed causing a scene far too much.”
“Though, I suppose it is possible she still had feelings for Sam…” Irene said. “Even though I have not seen them anywhere near one another since.”
“And I never heard Sam mention her,” I said.
“I don’t imagine he would,” Nathanial said.
“Well, her reaction might have been enough to question her in his murder,” Irene said. “I suppose my only counter to it is that it was three years ago now…”
“Some people harbor grudges for a long time,” I said. “Something Sam told me once.”
Irene nodded.
“Well, I suppose there is only one way to find out,” I said, rising from my seat.
“Where are you going?” Irene asked, her eyebrows coming together.
“To call this Valerie Price,” I said. “May I borrow your telephone?”
Nathanial and Irene exchanged uncertain glances. “I suppose,” Irene said.
“And your phone book?” I asked.
“I’ll get it,” Nathanial said.
After flipping through the pages, we found a one Henry Price, and Nathanial was almost certain it was Valerie’s father. Valerie herself was not listed in the book.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Irene asked.
“Of course,” I said. “If it will help us find Sam’s killer, than I have to.”
