Secrets of Innocence

by V.

  “Daniel,” Sarah answered without hesitation.

  “How did—”

  Conrad nodded toward the painting on the wall. “That’s him when he was fifteen.”

  “Now that you mention it, I do see the resemblance,” Williams said. “I’ll be damned. That means he knew Alexander since he was a kid.”

  Sarah spotted a letter-size envelope addressed to Daniel Michaels next to a loosely bound manuscript. “Conrad, look.”

  Conrad opened the first page of the manuscript and read aloud, “Secrets of Innocence, Screenplay by Alexander Pitman. Amaray, 1976” His eyes met his wife’s with the mutual recognition of the source of the images that had been playing in her mind.

  “Quite a coincidence isn’t it,” Williams noted, “that our mystery man is given the name Daniel, and his real name is the same? Too much of one if you ask me.”

  “The nurses and Elisabeth chose the name for him,” Conrad said.

  “So we’ve been told.”

  “You don’t suspect Daniel?” Sarah asked in disbelief.

  “At this time I’m not sure what to believe. Something serious happened here, and we need to get to the bottom of it before we reach any conclusions. You must agree that it’s suspicious that this entire estate and its contents now belong to Daniel.”

  “Why?” Sarah questioned him.

  “Mr. Pitman’s attorneys say that he contacted them to finalize his will only a couple of weeks before his death. They knew nothing about him other than the information Pitman gave them to process the will. Same story with Pitman’s manager, all he knew was what the will outlined. No clue as to who this Daniel Michaels was or where he came from. His housekeeper said that he told her around the same time, that if something ever happened to him, she should inform the attorneys and they’d tell her what to do. I find these events highly disturbing.”

  “Maybe he realized he was dying and made all the arrangements,” Conrad offered.

  “Possibly.” Williams nodded. “But we can’t confirm that. What if Pitman was coerced?”

  “Coerced? You mean by Daniel?” Sarah’s tone carried restrained irritation.

  “Yes. It’s possible.”

  “Billy, that doesn’t make any sense,” Sarah protested. “Why would he? Has he been in here before? Did the housekeeper meet him or witness him forcing Alexander?”

  “No,” Williams said, “but coercion takes many forms, and the perpetrator doesn’t need to be present.”

  “That’s too—”

  “Read the note in your hand, Sarah.”

  She opened the envelope and removed the note. It had two handwritten words: Forgive, Alexander. She sighed as she handed it to her husband.

  “Something heavy transpired between these two men,” Williams said. “And until we find out more, we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions, one way or another.”

  “We should tell Daniel we’ve learned who he is and bring him here,” Sarah suggested. “Maybe it’ll jar his memory and he’ll be able to tell us what happened.” “No, not yet,” Williams was quick to respond. “We’re processing the blood and need more time for the lab results.”

  A bewildered look came across Sarah’s face. “I don’t understand. Why not tell him?”

  “Sarah, it’s clear that you have complete faith in Daniel. But what if he’s faking his amnesia? Have you considered that? A crime has been committed here and—”

  “But he’s the victim,” Sarah protested. “He’s the one who was beaten to a pulp and left for dead on the side of the road.”

  “That may be so, but with all this new evidence I need to tread slowly in case there’s more to this. Maybe there were other heirs who came to claim their inheritance and he—”

  “You can’t be serious,” Sarah objected.

  “I am. Sarah, please understand. We have a crime scene here with no clear explanations, and we need time to find out exactly what took place. Maybe you’ll even get a flash—or whatever it is that happens—that will help us all, including Daniel. I must ask you to be patient and not tell anyone, particularly Daniel. Or Elisabeth, she’s not capable of keeping a secret.”

  “Darling,” Conrad cut in, “I have to agree with Sheriff Williams, we need to wait. If Daniel isn’t faking his amnesia and we hit him with a ton of information about Alexander and this place, his inheritance, this screenplay, the blood in the foyer, it might do more harm than good. Obviously something is preventing him from remembering. We should probably discuss this situation with Doc.” He turned to Williams. “I assume you don’t mind if we do?” Williams nodded in agreement. “As long as he keeps it to himself.” “You’re right.” Sarah said with a sigh. “I’ve been so frustrated with my inability to help Daniel that I didn’t think it through. Sorry.”

  “No need for apologies, Sarah.” Williams smiled. “You’ve helped a lot. We wouldn’t even be here if not for you, and I need you to do your thing and come up with what could have happened here.”

  “Can we see the rest of the house?” she asked.

  “Only the downstairs. The upstairs is being processed. Don’t linger or touch anything in the foyer as we cross over. As a matter of fact, don’t touch anything anywhere. Follow me.”

  They stepped into the foyer and made their way into the simple, yet warm living room. There were two ceiling-to-floor bookcases filled to capacity, and the furniture was elegant, but unpretentious. Several of Alexander’s self-portraits, all as enigmatic as the man himself, adorned the walls. Ornaments that appeared to be from all over the world were scattered atop all available surfaces or hung on the walls in any available space between the paintings. As in the library, a masculine tone permeated the entire room.

  “Those paintings are of Alexander himself,” Sarah told Conrad. “That, I would imagine was when he was in his early twenties, that one next to it is as he was when he met Danny, and the others appear to be from later years. It’s as if he never stopped searching for his true self.”

  “Interesting notion,” Conrad said. “Each portrait shows a different facet, but his appeal is constant in all of them. If his paintings were true to life, one can see how easy it must’ve been for him to influence others. Did you ever meet Pitman?” he asked Williams.

  “Nope. He kept to himself. I saw him in town a couple of times, but nothing more.”

  “How long had he lived here?”

  “Records show he bought the land back in the mid-seventies. He built the house and barn, but didn’t show up till the mid-eighties or thereabouts.”

  “Barn?”

  “Well.” Williams raised his eyebrows. “Pitman called it ‘the barn’ in his will, but it’s where his studio is. Just outside the back door. Anyway, he traveled a lot. He hired Walter and Dottie Ferguson who, along with their kids, looked after the house and property from early on. They must’ve done right by him given the pretty sum of money he left them in his will.”

  “Do they have any idea as to what could’ve happened here?” Conrad asked.

  “None. They haven’t been in the house since they locked it up after his death and gave the keys to the attorneys.”

  “That’s too bad,” Sarah muttered.

  “Any ideas?” Williams asked Sarah.

  She smiled. “No, if I get anything, I’ll tell you. It doesn’t always happen instantly. It may take a day or two.”

  They stepped into the dining room. It was well appointed and functional, with exquisite wooden masks from faraway lands dressing the walls, and similar knick-knacks spread on the table, sideboard, and buffet. A small bar occupied a corner of the room with an antique cabinet filled with expensive crystal.

  “No sign of any feminine influence in this room or the others. I guess he never married,” Sarah said more to herself than to the others.

  “Lifelong bachelor,” Williams offered. “No children or anyone else to leave all this expensive stuff to. Only Daniel who’s obviously not his kin.”

  “He left nothing for anyone else othe
r than the Ferguson family?” Conrad asked.

  “Nope. All his millions go to Daniel,” Williams said with a smirk.

  “Millions?” Sarah’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Pitman’s attorneys say around two million in liquid assets, plus this property and its contents, estimated at another two or more.”

  “I didn’t realize the extent of his attachment to Danny,” she whispered, shaking her head.

  “Did Daniel ever find out that Alexander had made him rich?” Conrad asked Williams.

  “He must’ve. He picked up the paperwork and the keys to the estate from Pitman’s attorneys in Seattle last November. He flew in from Paris and—”

  “Paris, France?”

  “Yeah, he lives there.”

  “How did they find him?” Conrad asked.

  “Apparently Pitman gave them his address and phone number. They said he flew in, met with them, signed all the paperwork, and headed this way to check it out.”

  “Billy,” Sarah turned to him, “have you found Daniel’s wallet or anything of his here?”

  “Nothing so far, but we’re not done with the upstairs. Not even the paperwork he picked up from the lawyers has surfaced yet. His rental car is gone too.

  “I can only imagine the shock Daniel must’ve felt when he found out Alexander left him his entire property.. .his entire life’s work,” Sarah muttered.

  Conrad placed his hand on her shoulder, and she turned to him and managed a smile.

  They entered the small yet practical kitchen, devoid of any of the amenities befitting Alexander’s personality that characterized the other rooms. The cupboards contained everyday dishware, glasses, and cooking utensils, but nothing more. To one side of the kitchen stood a fully equipped laundry room. All of the appliances dated back to the eighties, and other than a microwave, there was no evidence of the comforts modern kitchens offer.

  “This is more like it,” she said with a sigh of relief, “the only room so far that has offered a glimpse of the Alexander I’ve come to know.”

  “What do you mean?” Williams asked.

  “The Alexander in the...my visions did not appear to be someone who cared for the finer things in life, or so I presumed. Except for this kitchen, the house and all its contents make me wonder who he really was or how truthful my impressions have been.”

  “You mean you can be wrong?” a bewildered Williams asked.

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  Williams frowned. “I had the impression you couldn’t be wrong once you got the vision. You’ve been right on the money so far.”

  “Sometimes the images are very clear, other times they aren’t, so I’m forced to draw conclusions. It’s not a perfect science.”

  “I guess not,” he said, clearly unsettled. “All the more reason not to say a thing to him. You get me?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Your assertion that he’s innocent might be wrong. What if he has a coconspirator? Have you thought of that?” Williams’s smirk had returned.

  “No, I haven’t.” Sarah’s tone carried a hint of irritation.

  “If Pitman was coerced and Daniel hasn’t been here, he might’ve had a coconspirator who did have access to the rich man.”

  “That’s a bit farfetched,” Sarah protested.

  “Is it? You didn’t even know that Pitman was wealthy and had left it all to your Daniel. That’s a really big gap.”

  “Now, wait a minute—” Conrad stepped in, clearly annoyed.

  “No offense, Mr. Thompson, but Sarah has said she can’t really be sure how accurate these visions of hers really are.”

  “You’re right, Billy, I’m not sure about some of the visions, but it’s highly unlikely that Daniel conspired against Alexander.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I have a gut feeling about it.”

  “Well, my gut feeling is that it’s possible Daniel had some differences with his coconspirator once the property had been turned over to him and that’s when he got beaten all to hell.”

  Both Conrad and Sarah glanced at each other and then back at Billy. The three remained silent for a few moments.

  “You’re right, Sherriff,” Conrad said. “That is a viable possibility.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Sarah made her way up the stairs to open the windows to allow the afternoon breeze to flow through her house, when she was overcome by an uncontrollable sadness.

  Engulfed by the solitude of the forest, Danny ran as if he might never stop. After several minutes he slowed to a walk again, gasping for breath and fighting back tears until, at last, exhausted, he sank to the ground and screamed in agony.

  Concealed among the trees, Alexander resisted the temptation to console his friend. “Be strong, Danny. Be strong,” he whispered.

  Gradually, the boy’s screams dwindled into wracking sobs.

  When at last his breathing and tears subsided, he rose to find himself next to a fallen tree branch. He picked it up and beat it frenetically against a nearby tree as his face—bathed in sweat and tears—turned crimson with anger. Finally, exhausted, he slumped to the foot of the tree, knees to his chest, head on his arms, crying the pain away.

  After several minutes he dragged himself up and headed off into the forest.

  Unaware of time passing, he found himself standing alongside the creek, the bridge silhouetted against the trees mere yards to his right.

  His father and Mrs. Foster emerged from under the bridge with their arms around each other, laughing without a care in the world.

  With steely determination, he marched up to them and blocked their path. The two froze at the sight of him, Hugo horrified, Mrs. Foster pleased. With stone-cold eyes, Danny glowered at the two people he’d once loved and now despised.

  No one uttered a word.

  After a few moments, the minister’s son simply walked away and disappeared into the darkened forest.

  Sarah sat on the bottom rung of the staircase in her home, eyes bathed in tears, her head on her husband’s shoulder.

  “Not one single adult is there to help that kid pull through this mess,” Conrad whispered.

  “His poor mother.. .it’ll break her heart.”

  “Why didn’t you ask Williams to let you take the screenplay so you can read what Alexander wrote? You’ve been dying to find out how the story ends.”

  “I’ve waited this long, a little more won’t hurt. Alexander isn’t done telling it to me his own way. There’s more to come. ”

  “I don’t like you to be so distraught.”

  “I’ll be all right.” She patted his arm.

  “If I hadn’t showed up to pick up the invoices I’d left behind, you would’ve sat here at the bottom of the stairs crying all on your own.”

  Sarah smiled. “Now it’s both of us at the bottom of the stairs. What a pair.”

  “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He stood up and reached for her hand. “The fresh air will do you good.”

  Sarah rose and wrapped her husband in her arms. “I’m okay, only saddened by what Danny had to confront at such an early age.”

  He tightened his embrace and kissed his wife. “C’mon.”

  “There’s no need. Anyway, you have to get back to the store so Tom can go to school for that parent-teacher conference. Elisabeth is coming to help me with the twins and learn how to make corn tortillas. She’s looking forward to that.”

  “Speak of the devil, looks like she’s here,” Conrad said as a car drove up. He kissed his wife once again and gazed into her eyes.

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry. Doc will get here early so that we can bring him up to date.”

  “Who’ll keep an eye over Daniel and Elisabeth while we’re with Doc?”

  “The kids are spending the night here. The little ones will keep our older charges busy.”

  “We’ve turned into a veritable nursery. When is Alyana getting here with them?”

  “Any minute now.”

 
; The doorbell rang and he kissed her once more before opening the door.

  “Hi.” Elisabeth’s eyes were as puffy as Sarah’s. “Conrad, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “Hi to you, too. I’m off. Daniel and I’ll be working another couple of hours while you two battle with the homemade tortillas.” Conrad winked as he passed Elisabeth. “No more crying.” He nodded at his wife. “Either of you.” He stepped off the porch and headed to his truck.

  “He’s such a nice man.” Elisabeth sighed.

  “That he is. Come on in.” Sarah reached out for Elisabeth’s arm, gently coaxed her into the house, and closed the front door. “What’s the matter? You’ve been crying.”

  “So have you. Why were you crying?”

  “A very sad scene played in my head, that’s all.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I can’t, not yet, maybe soon. Tell me why you’ve been crying.” Sarah led Elisabeth toward the living room.

  “It’s Daniel. I’ve lost him.”

  Alarmed, Sarah stopped and turned. “What happened? Has he left? Where has he gone?”

  Elisabeth’s eyes filled and she shook her head. “No, he’s here, but he’s left me.”

  Sarah took her friend’s hands in hers. “Settle down on the sofa, I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

  Elisabeth wiped her eyes. “I’d rather come with you. I don’t care to be by myself.”

  In the kitchen, Sarah put the teakettle on. “Let’s sit here together while the water boils,” she said as she pulled two chairs away from the kitchen table.

  “I should be helping you with dinner instead—”

  “Not to worry. We have plenty of time to get ready before Daniel and Conrad join us.”

  “What’s on the menu?”

  “One of my father’s favorite meals, tortilla soup followed by puntas de filete en salsa colorada con arroz blancoy chicharos.” Sarah smiled.

  Elisabeth had to chuckle. “It’s probably a Mexican meal since we’re making corn tortillas from scratch. I think filete means steak—like filet mignon—colo-rado may mean color, blanco is white, and arroz could be.. .rice. No idea what the last part means at all. Is it steak in some colored sauce with white rice?” “Yes, tips of steak in tomato sauce with white rice and peas. Daniel and I will be comparing recipes as we make the meal. It’ll be lots of fun. For dessert we’re making torta de cielo con compota—heavenly tart.”