“Where there is darkness, let me bring light.” A tall order, but she was willing to try. “Where there is sadness, let me bring joy.” She thanked the Lord again for being alive and able to think. “Grant that I may seek to comfort, rather than be comforted; to understand, rather than be understood; to love, rather than to be loved.”
She enjoyed the end of the prayer. The relinquishment of the need to feel loved by others was liberating, sane and grounding. Of course, loving others was all she could do to fulfill God’s will. “For it is by forgiving that we are forgiven, by self-forgetting that we find, and by dying that we awaken to eternal life.” What would life after death resemble. Would she see her loved ones?
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” Sally uttered the 23rd Psalm as she headed for the shower. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.” The Hotel Baker’s plush carpeting was a dark green. “He leadeth me beside the still waters.” A hot shower would relieve some of her morning stiffness. “He restoreth my soul.” As always happened, her ribs seemed to melt away as her soul stretched out to the ends of the earth.
“He leadeth me in paths of righteousness for His Name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table in the presence of mine enemies. Thou annointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
She stopped before closing the bathroom door to confront the daylight in the windows facing the Fox River.
Ginger stuck her nose around the door. “You need a walk, right?” Ginger waged her tail. There was a lot to do. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” John was gone from earth, but she still sensed his love and the pride he showed in winning her as his wife and friend. “The courage to change the things I can.” Whoever masterminded the deaths of John and Enid needed to be caught and charged, before she returned to Ann Arbor. “And the wisdom to know the difference.” Sally sniggered to herself. Wisdom was the rub. Old age did not guarantee any such accouterment.
“God,” Sally prayed a second AA prayer as she ducked her head under the shower. “I offer myself to You to do with me or build with me what Thou wilt. Save me from the bondage to self. Grant me victory over my present difficulties so I may be a witness to those I seek to help of Thy power, Thy love and Thy way of life. Help me to do Thy will always.”
Stepping out of the shower, she pulled down the large hotel towel from the rack and faced the morning’s mirror.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Sally reached Hotel Baker’s dining room at eight o’clock. Sheriff Woods and Tim were already waiting for her. “My, I’m impressed by you two early birds.”
Tim said the breakfast menu was worth the trip.
Sheriff Woods stood. “We waited to order.”
Tim pushed in her chair as she sat down, blushing slightly.
“I love company for breakfast.” She reminded herself not to tease Tim about his appetite. A young man needed calories. Her chair faced the doorway to the restaurant. She drew in a sharp breath. For a split second, she thought John stood at the entrance.
Of course, James was the person. When Betty stepped next to him, James placed an arm around her shoulder and then played with Betty’s short hair with his other hand.
‘Lovers’ Sally thought, feeling a sharp pang below her left breast. “Oh,” she tried to muffle a cry from real pain.
“What is it?” Sheriff Woods followed her gaze. “Betty, right?”
Sally nodded. The pain ceased. She fished in her purse for a handkerchief and whisked away a tear, before John’s relatives arrived at the table. The waitress came by and Sheriff Woods, Tim and Sally ordered their breakfasts.
“We ate earlier,” James explained.
The waitress pulled up two more chairs at the small table. “Coffee?”
James waved her away politely. “No, thank you.”
“Sally,” Betty said. “Please come with us to John’s lawyer. He wants to read us the will.”
Sally managed not to break down by concentrating on the snow starting to fall outside the hotel restaurant windows. “I doubt John had time to even consider including me in his will. My finances don’t need any help from his estate.” She smiled at Betty. “Let me know, if you need me for anything.”
James stood up first. Betty was quick to follow; however, she leaned down and whispered in Sally’s ear. “Bless you for getting me out from under my horrid wig.”
Sally took Betty’s hand and held it to her cheek. “Very welcome.”
After they left, Sheriff Woods and Tim minded their coffee. Their posture telegraphed how uneasy they were around a grieving widow. Sally placed her notebook on the table next to her plate which contained a dry and cold ham and cheese omelet. The waitress started to pour coffee into her cold cup. “Could you bring me a fresh cup with a cheese Danish? Thank you. You can take away my plate, too.”
“Still can’t abide lukewarm coffee,” Sheriff Woods said.
Tim tilted his head, indicating he needed enlightenment.
Sally explained, “We dated in high-school, before I moved to Michigan.”
Sheriff Woods said, “I can’t stop thinking about Tony Montgomery.”
“I keep playing those bad tapes, too.”
“Relevant to the case?” Tim tried to keep up with references in their shared history.
“I don’t know,” Sheriff Woods said. “Sally, remember Kathy Krimm.”
“Enid’s mother?” Tim asked.
“There’s your connection,” Sally said. “Tony brought a prostitute to Jill’s wedding reception.”
“Was that the only date he could get?” Tim was foolish enough to ask.
Both Sheriff Woods and Sally glared at him. Sally said quietly. “Tony was a beautiful young man, just tortured beyond belief.”
“Would Tony’s father try to get even for his suicide with Kathy’s daughter, at this late date?” Tim asked.
Sally dismissed the idea. “Kathy wasn’t the problem. Jill Wisnewski-Reddinger was the villain. And she paid the price.”
“How?” Tim asked.
“A lifetime of suffering,” Sheriff Woods said.
Sally understood he included himself in that sentence of pain. She turned the pages in her notebook to change the subject away from Tony. She penciled in Tim’s red herring about Tony’s parents’ motivation. Sheriff Woods sat on her right and leaned over to try to read her notations. “Should I read my notes aloud?” Both men nodded, so Sally listed her clues: “Number one, January 1st, John says Tim Hanson knows something that needs investigating. Solved.”
“I was suspicious of Enid. She was always asking questions about Peter Masters, Matilda’s father. Of course, you probably noticed how guilty I am about Matilda, too.”
Sheriff Woods said, “Remember Geraldine Masters said Enid Krimm recited a list of dates her husband was out of town as the basis for her claim of an affair.”
“Peter denied it,” Tim said.
“In front of his daughter, Matilda.” Sally recalled for them. “But who called his cell phone when he was in the interrogation room. I don’t believe it was his wife’s lawyer. Geraldine never hired a lawyer. Matilda and I spoke to her. Supposedly, Geraldine went to Matilda’s grand-mother’s home in Dallas to get away from her husband.”
“Nevertheless,” Tim said. “They’re both at the Montgomerys’.”
“With their daughter,” Sally added. “People do strange things for their children.”
“What else do you have listed in there?” Sheriff Woods asked.
“Number two,” Sally read. “January 2nd, Where is Peter Master’s boarding passes to Dallas?” She looked up from the notebook. “Why is he still lying to us? Where was he during the fire? Unsolved.”
Sheriff Woods said, “When we are through se
arching Dunham Castle, we’ll get an answer from him or take him into custody for withholding evidence.”
Sally nodded in agreement. “Number three and four of January 2nd, we already solved. The candlestick was used by Enid, and she was the dead woman, not Geraldine. I should include clue number five and six as solved, also. Geraldine’s ring was where Peter said she threw it on New Year’s Eve. And Tim explained how he injured Bret accidentally.”
Tim asked Sheriff Woods, “When you questioned Peter Masters did you come across anything suspicious?”
Sally answered for him. “Clue number eight, Enid told Tim, Matilda, and Geraldine that Bret was having an affair with her.”
“You said you didn’t believe it, at the time,” Tim said.
Sally throat and mouth went suddenly dry. She sipped her tepid coffee again and frowned. Sheriff Woods motioned for the waitress to bring another hot cup of coffee. “Even though, he killed John,” Sally managed. “I don’t believe Bret could cheat on his wife.”
“Ouch,” Tim said.
“Matilda’s a very manipulative woman,” Sally said. “But you admitted, you were in error.”
The waitress arrived. “I microwaved the cup, before I poured in fresh coffee.”
Sally tucked on the girl’s apron. “Wait a minute.” She dug in her purse and slipped the girl a folded twenty dollar bill. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
Tim said. “Why did Enid insist Bret was having an affair with her?”
“Good question,” Sheriff Woods said. “A very effective blackmailing ploy? Probably worked on most of the citizens of Wayne.”
Sally nodded. “The addresses on the thank-you notes and Mrs. Sederbush’s list of license plates establishes the facts.” The waitress waved a thank-you, after she unfolded the money.
“How many unsolved clues are left?” Tim asked.
“Number two is not solved,” Sheriff Woods said. “Peter Masters needs to clear up a few things.”
“Number ten, January 3rd, Bret shoots John. But why.” Sally finished her coffee for once. “I’m not even sure Bret would have aimed the gun at John, if John hadn’t lunged for him.”
“Do you think Bret meant I ruined his marriage?” Tim asked. “Or you?”
“Initially, I thought Bret meant you, but my snooping around probably prompted someone to tell Bret about Matilda. I thought about letting you two handle the case. If stopping my involvement in the case was the reason for upsetting Bret; it almost worked.”
“We have established some of the circumstances surrounding Bret before he committed murder,” Sheriff Woods said.
Tim nodded his head. “He visited Enid, three days before the movers shipped most of her belongings to France.”
“Who was threatening whom?” Sally asked.
“Bret lawyered up,” Sheriff Woods said. “I assume we’ll find out at Bret’s trial Enid pushed him into a corner, or at least his family’s reputation was about to suffer.”
“But Bret said,” Sally said looking at her notes. “Number eleven, January 3rd, Bret said, ‘You ruined my marriage,’ before the gun went off.”
“Matilda claimed Bret only loved their castle,” Tim said. “She even kidded if the castle hadn’t been part of the marriage deal, she’d probably still be single.”
“We know what evil the love of money can produce between people,” Sally said to Sheriff Woods, who agreed by pounding the table. Sally read the last clue to them, “Number eleven, January ninth, the butler. J K. Reeves signed the moving contract. Why? Unsolved.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
By nine in the morning the snow was four inches thick, but the salt trucks were efficiently ridding the roads of the hazardous conditions. Sheriff Woods, Tim and Sally drove north on Dunham Road, rehearsing the possible evidence they might find at the Armstrongs’ Castle.
“Will Matilda be there?” Tim worried.
“You handle yourself all right around her.” Sheriff Woods complimented him. “But I think she’ll be with her folks at the Montgomery’s.”
“If she is there,” Sally said, “I can question her about why she asked Enid to meet her at her mother’s house. Was she trying to cover up for her mother.”
“The list of people who dropped in on Enid and lived in Wayne is pretty long,” Tim said. “It’s not a crime to pay blackmail, is it?”
“Perpetrating a felonious act?” Sheriff Woods said aloud.
“But blackmailing is a punishable crime,” Sally said, from the backseat of the cruiser, “as is murdering the blackmailer.”
“I’ll search Bret’s room.” Sheriff Woods said. “Tim, go through the butler’s things. We sent out an international search for him.”
“Did you contact French Seaways?” Sally asked.
Tim answered. “Officer Caldwell said the crates were off-loaded in France. They were transferred to a mover based in Rome. She’s following up to find the crates’ final destination.”
“Interpol might need to be included in the search for J. K. Reeves,” Sally said.
“You keep insisting the butler did it.” Sheriff Woods laughed.
“I suspect he’s sitting somewhere in France or Italy, counting out the money Enid earned by blackmailing half the village of Wayne.” Sally hoped they were getting close to answering all her questions.
“He didn’t seem evil to me,” Tim said.
“You were just happy he disappeared during your affair with Matilda,” Sally reminded him. Tim nodded his head. “Sorry,” Sally said. “That was an unnecessary comment.”
“Nevertheless,” Tim said. “Facts are facts.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Dunham Castle, Wayne
Four inches of snow covered the circular drive in front of the Dunham Castle. Hundred-year-old oaks and evergreens bordered the extensive grounds. Fresh snow caressed their fronds and lined their limbs, accentuating the beauty of the trees. Yellowed rough stones of the gothic walls reached toward the glistening snow on the spired roofs of the top windows, on the round caps of the three towers, and on the slopes of the mansard roof. Long icicles hung at the edges, picking up light from the brightening cloud cover. Larger than usual flakes of snow, proclaiming white innocence, drifted down on the haunting, lonely scene.
One set of tracks plowed through two of the four inches of snow before the squad car crunched up the drive. When Sheriff Woods got out of the cruiser, he examined the trampled snow up the steps to the front door. “A woman drove away about an hour ago.”
“Heap big Indian guide.” Sally surprised herself by teasing.
Sheriff Woods grinned. “I’m glad you’re back to your old ornery self.”
“Aren’t you going to miss us?” Tim blushed furiously and added, “if you return to Ann Arbor.”
Sally adjusted her purse. “First things first. Who is going to get us past the front door?”
Tim knocked uselessly and then opened the door with his key.
“Convenient, right?” Sheriff Woods winked at Sally.
“Will the search hold up in court?”
“Tim was given the key by the owner.”
“Not for this,” Sally said. “Be a shame to lose any evidence on a technicality.” Nevertheless, Sally crossed the threshold. “Time’s a wasting.”
“Check every room.” Sheriff Woods opened one of the two evidence toolboxes he carried into the house. After he put on plastic gloves, he pointed to the other box. “Yours is over there, Sally.”
Tim went up the main staircase, after donning gloves from his case.
“I’ll take the downstairs,” Sally said.
Sheriff Woods followed Tim upstairs. “We’ll help you, when we get done up here.” His voice bounced around the circular entryway.
Sally headed for the library. The evidence case was too heavy to lug around, so she set the metal box on the couch, which faced a long desk. On the right hand corner of the desk, an open dictionary was propped open on a sandalwood stand. She read the page heading
s, just in case they were relevant. ‘lacriminal sac,’ something to do with tears, nothing about criminals. If AA allowed belief in psychic phenomena, Sally would assume John was near her. ‘lady, lady apple and lagena,’ were the other headings. ‘Lagena,’ meant some part of a fish’s body mammals shared. Sally wasn’t interested enough to search further.
The red leather bindings of the books with titles embossed in gold did tempt her curiosity. She excused her lack of concentration on the case by imagining a letter might fall out of any of the books she chose to open. The entire wall behind the desk was dedicated to war. Wars throughout history were captured in a plethora of printed matter. Famous battles, generals and spies with more than one book named for them lined the shelves. Behind the couch, a freestanding, book case with glass pull-up doors held over a hundred books about Lincoln and the Civil War.
The narrower shelves on either side of the entrance were filled with first editions of novels. Trying to focus like a detective on a case, Sally lifted out Anatole Frances’ ‘Under the Rose.’ No letter or stray notes were tucked inside its covers even though the title promised secrets were kept there.
Nonfiction books on architecture and decorating subjects faced the entrance. Their covers were not leather. A colorful array of paper book jackets brightened an otherwise dull gathering of books. Were the books purchased as they stood on the shelves when the castle changed hands, or had Matilda or Bret collected them.
She went back to the library desk to examine its drawers. Matilda used the desk to write invitations, greeting cards and thank you notes. An expensive array of stationary filled the drawers. One drawer held a card index with addresses and phone numbers. Sally checked, but no cards listed the names of Kathy, Enid Krimm or J. K. Reeves, for that matter.
Thinking she soaked up enough literary vibes, she headed for the dining room. She ran her hand under the edge of the mahogany table, not expecting to find anything, but checking nonetheless. She pulled the floral portraits off the wall and looked at the back of the canvases for clues. She couldn’t summon the energy necessary to replace them or up-end the chairs, but she thought about it. Instead of tackling the kitchen, she chose to look around the visitor’s parlor where Reeves ushered John and Sally on their first visit.
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