Blue Lake

by Elizabeth Buhmann

  Bebe’s lip curled. “Now who doesn’t believe her?”

  “I believe her when she says she saw someone.”

  Fran asked, “But why did they think it was Rawley?”

  Regina answered, grimly, “Robert accused him.”

  In the moment of startled silence, Regina looked around the room. Fran, of course, knew nothing. What did the others know?

  Fran, in all innocence, asked Mary, “Your husband?”

  “We weren’t married then.”

  “Was he even here?” Pace said at the same time, openly skeptical of Regina’s claim.

  Regina looked up with genuine surprise. “Yes! Yes, he was!” With a sharp intake of breath, she realized that Al had told her Robert was on the scene. Sophie had said he was there too, and Mary had not denied it. “He was here, and he accused Tiberius Rawley.”

  She was dimly aware that all eyes were trained on her, but she was thinking out loud, astonished by what had occurred to her. “He was working in Richmond himself, at St John’s. In Church Hill. But he was here when Eugenie drowned.”

  Bebe’s voice was sharp. “What are you saying?”

  Frank said, “Just that he could have seen Rawley. I didn’t know he was here.”

  “He couldn’t have seen Rawley,” Pace interjected. “According to the police, Rawley was working on his father’s farm.”

  “That’s what his father said.” This was Edith.

  “Of course his father said that,” Bebe chimed in, still glaring at Regina.

  At the same time, Fran said, “Did Alice tell Robert she saw Rawley?”

  Pace touched her hand to caution her. “Why would Robert Medina accuse Tiberius Rawley?”

  Regina offered Sophie’s explanation. “To deflect blame from Alice?”

  Bebe burst out, “What are you saying? How could anyone blame Alice?” As if Regina were.

  An uproar ensued, which Mary damped by saying, “She blamed herself. She was in an agony of blaming herself.”

  “Of course,” Fran said. “Anyone would be.”

  Regina said, slowly, still thinking out loud, groping through the dark cloud that fogged her thoughts. “Robert accused him because he knew Tiberius’s schedule. Because he was working in Richmond. At Saint John’s. And he had the same schedule.”

  Mary looked up at this point.

  The silence, in which the room seemed to shift, was broken by Edith. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Robert Medina was here when she died.”

  Frank said gently, “He’s Mary’s husband.”

  “Oh, shame on you,” Bebe cried. “There you go again.” She appealed to the others, singling out Fran, who would have no idea what Bebe was talking about. “She’s pulled this kind of trick before, accusing Robert of who knows what to cover for herself. She’s jealous, manipulating. She was jealous of Eugenie too. Caused Alice no end of grief, so much that Alice couldn’t stand to be around her. That’s why you never see her here. She’s a troublemaker. Always was. Mary took her in and how did she repay Mary? She tried to break up Mary’s marriage.”

  Frank held up his hand. “Now hold on a minute.”

  At the same time, Fran turned wide eyes to her husband, who was shaking his head, saying, “No.”

  Edith aimed a mildly disapproving glance at Bebe, then turned to Regina and spoke softly, with a meaningful glance at the stairs. “You are not actually suggesting that Robert had anything to do with Eugenie’s death.”

  Regina’s mouth was dry. “I’m saying that the reason he gave for suspecting Tiberius Rawley applies perfectly well to him. They both had the same schedule at that time. The only difference is that Rawley wasn’t here at the house that weekend, and Robert was. The only ones here were Mary, who was alone at the cottage, and Alice, who wasn’t watching when it happened. Robert and Alice both claim Eugenie was murdered. She saw someone. He said it was Rawley.” She licked her lips.

  Edith stared a moment. Then said, with a short laugh-like huff, “But why would he do such a thing?”

  “The same reason all the girls in Richmond were killed. They were all molested. Sexually assaulted.” Shock like a physical wave traveled around the room. “And they were all old enough to tell.”

  The room exploded, everyone exclaiming at one time, glances exchanging, heads shaking, denials and objections right and left.

  Regina spoke over all of them, gathering confidence. “There were signs that Eugenie struggled. She took a blow to the head. One of the Richmond girls was killed exactly that way.”

  “There was no evidence,” Pace sputtered. “No evidence whatsoever that Eugenie was—that, ah, anything of that kind happened.”

  “There often aren’t signs of sexual assault,” Regina said, chin high. It was too late to hold back now.

  Bebe stood and nearly shouted, “Why would you make such an awful, baseless accusation about Robert? That he would do such a horrible thing? Where do you even get such an idea?”

  “He molested me.”

  All but Bebe registered the shock of Regina’s words. Bebe didn’t break stride. “Oh, is that how you tell it now?” She spoke through gritted teeth. “You forget I was there. I was with Mary when we got home and found you all tarted up and half-dressed in your sister’s husband’s bedroom. You were in his bedroom, waiting for him.” She appealed to her stunned siblings. “Dressed up in one of Alice’s old gowns.”

  Regina’s cheeks flamed white hot, her breath coming short. In the stunned silence, before she could summon up an answer, the doorbell rang.

  Mary was the first to recover. “Someone’s at the door. I’ll get it.”

  21

  Mrs. Marsden

  Frank, sitting closest to the front door, rose, holding out a hand. “I’ll go.”

  The room settled in that way where everybody puts away their private face.

  Edith said, “Who would that be?”

  Pace answered, twisting in his chair to try to see the front step out the window. “I don’t know. Someone from church? To see Alice?”

  Regina’s heart was still pounding from the interrupted scene, blood throbbing in her neck from her rash accusations, afraid to meet anyone’s eyes.

  Mary spoke quietly. “Regina, it’s true that Robert was here, but he didn’t do anything to Eugenie. He was with me.”

  “You always told me you were alone when it happened!”

  “I’m sorry, but what difference does it make?” Mary bowed her head. “He was spending weekend nights with me in the cottage. We weren’t married yet, so I didn’t tell anyone. I should have been watching Eugenie that afternoon.” She looked down at her hands. “I was with him instead. Too long.”

  Frank reappeared in the door, his face composed, unreadable. “A sheriff’s deputy is here.”

  A warning jangled in the back of Regina’s head as Frank stepped aside for a middle-aged woman in a tan uniform who said, “I’m here to see Mrs. Hannon.”

  Fran, the only Mrs. Hannon in the room, looked at Pace, around at everybody else, and back. “I’m Mrs. Hannon.”

  “Mrs. Alice Hannon?”

  Stunned silence.

  Edith was the first to speak. “What for? She’s napping.”

  “My orders are to take a statement.”

  “About what?”

  No answer.

  Bebe said, indignantly, “We told you, she’s asleep. Why do you want her?”

  Frank, more reasonably, explained. “Her husband is very ill and she’s just come from the hospital.”

  “I can come back at a more convenient time.”

  Mary stood. “I’ll see if she really is asleep. She went to lie down a while ago.”

  Bebe sputtered. “A statement about what? We won’t allow this. She doesn’t need to talk to you.”

  The deputy was unprovoked. “She certainly can refuse. I’m not so sure you can refuse for her.”

  “This is uncalled for,” Bebe fumed. “And at a time like this?” she appealed to Pace
and Frank. “Doesn’t Papa know the sheriff?”

  The deputy stood unruffled.

  Alice appeared in the doorway in a dressing gown, agitated, saying to Mary, “What does he want with me?”

  Mary said, “The deputy is a she.”

  “What do you want?” Not belligerent. Confused. Wary.

  “I’m told you may have information that would be new to us about an incident that happened quite some time ago. Something you may have witnessed.”

  Alice grasped Mary’s arm.

  The deputy said slowly, uncertainly, “The drowning of a young girl.”

  Alice sagged, and everyone in the room lunged forward except for Regina, who stood riveted in shocked horror.

  The deputy said, “Should I call an ambulance?”

  Mary said, “No, it’s all right. I’m sorry, but she isn’t going to be able to talk to you.”

  The deputy said, “She clearly is not the one who contacted the sheriff’s office. We had information that she might have new evidence, new testimony about what she saw.” She searched their faces, eyebrows raised.

  Bebe did not hesitate to point at Regina. “I think you’ll want to talk to her. None of us have heard her say anything of the kind.”

  “No?” The deputy’s eyes tracked around the room again and came to rest on Regina.

  Bebe shook her head stubbornly. “Not until today. Not until she began putting ideas in her head. My mother is in very fragile health and this one has been manipulating her.” She pointed at Regina again.

  Mary bit her lip. Pace and Edith exchanged glances. Frank murmured, “Bebe,” but Bebe was in full attack mode.

  Regina protested, “I had no idea. She said it to me the other night.”

  “You’re causing needless trouble for her at a terrible time,” Bebe insisted.

  The deputy’s eyes narrowed.

  Regina opened her hands, beseeching. “All I know is what I heard her say.” She lowered her eyes and added, “She was confused, but she did say she saw a man.”

  “And you,” Bebe interjected, “jumped to conclusions and reported it to the sheriff’s office.

  Mary said wonderingly, “Regina, you called the sheriff’s office?”

  “No! I didn’t.” She bit her lip. She couldn’t implicate Al.

  The deputy’s eyes slid from Bebe to Regina and back. She beckoned to Regina. “Come outside with me.”

  Regina followed her, the tension in the room scalding her back.

  The deputy led her to a patrol car and dropped into the driver’s seat, pointing at the passenger door. They both left the doors open.

  The car was in the shade, and a slight breeze touched Regina’s flaming cheek. “I did hear her say it. I do believe her.”

  “She said she saw Tiberius Rawley.” A long moment. “And that’s it?”

  “We—some of us have heard her say she believed it was murder.”

  “I’ll put that in the file. I can make field notes without interviewing her or taking a statement.” She studied Regina. “You’re her daughter? Or granddaughter?”

  “Daughter.”

  She tipped her head at the house. “They’re your brothers and sisters?”

  “All but Fran, my brother’s wife.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  The deputy studied her notes. “This happened twenty-three years ago. You were two?”

  Regina looked down at her hands. “I had just turned three.”

  “So all you know is what you’ve heard. How many times have you heard her say she saw him?”

  “Once.”

  “When was that?”

  Regina stopped to think. “Night before last.”

  “So twenty-three years later. All your life, now all of a sudden she says she witnessed someone at the scene.”

  “She never talked about what happened to me.” Regina considered explaining her position in the family and decided it was too complicated.

  “Unless we have a witness, we have nothing new. I read the file and talked to someone who investigated at the time. Rawley had an alibi. Not a great one, but we didn’t have any other evidence. We weren’t satisfied, but all we had was an accusation by one family member who wasn’t there.”

  “But he was there!”

  The deputy consulted her notes again. “I have a statement by a Robert Medina. Who is he?”

  “My sister’s husband. I always thought he wasn’t there, but he was.”

  “He saw Rawley?”

  Regina squirmed. “I think she told him she saw Rawley.” Her confidence was seeping away. “I don’t know if he said he saw Rawley—I-I don’t think so. I think he just accused Rawley.” She hung her head. “I don’t really know what he said at the time.”

  “But she now says she saw Rawley.”

  “That’s what she said the other night.”

  “She named him?”

  Regina felt the deputy’s eyes, her doubts, and felt hopeless. “No. I just know that was who she meant.”

  “If she makes a statement, we can clarify that. Rawley did have an alibi.”

  “His parents. So is it her word against theirs? They could be protecting their son.”

  The deputy was unperturbed. “Okay.” Nodded. “I can make a note of your comment. If your mother is unwilling or unable to make a statement, we still have nothing new, not even her word against everybody else’s. We don’t even have his name for sure.” She sighed. “I was asked to look into this. I’ll make a note of everything you’ve said and take it back to the sheriff. That’s all I can do.”

  “Yes, of course. I understand.” Regina started to get out, then sat back. “Wait.”

  The deputy hadn’t moved.

  Regina gathered her courage and said, “She says she saw someone. It didn’t have to be Rawley.”

  “Right. You have some idea who else it could have been?”

  Heart pounding, she said, “I do. Robert Medina.”

  The deputy frowned and put her finger on the page. “Medina.”

  “The one who accused Rawley,” Regina supplied. “He’s the one who called attention to the fact that Tiberius Rawley went back and forth between here and Richmond.”

  “Okay.” She looked at Regina funny.

  Her mouth was dry. “He was here. Mary, my sister, says he was with her when it happened, but she’s told me before that she was alone. I know she’s lying. She’s protecting him.”

  “The little girl would have been his niece?”

  “They weren’t married at the time, but yes. By marriage. If she’d lived.”

  “And she was your sister too. The little girl.” She wasn’t looking at Regina now, but at the house. “Why would he kill her?”

  “The Richmond killer sexually molested the little girls.”

  The deputy’s eyes snapped back. “There’s no evidence of sexual assault in this case.”

  “Often there isn’t.”

  “True. You have a reason to believe your sister was molested?”

  “I have reason to believe Robert Medina could have molested her.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “He molested me.” It was easier to say the second time.

  The deputy pursed her lips and considered for a moment before asking, “When?”

  “When I was in high school.”

  “What year would that have been?”

  She thought back and whispered, “Nineteen fifty-nine, sixty.”

  After a long silence, during which Regina kept her eyes on her hands in her lap and felt a tear run down her cheek, the deputy said, “I believe you. But frankly, nobody else will unless he raped you and you reported it at the time. Ironically, maybe not even then. Did he rape you?”

  “He would have, if I hadn’t run away from home.” Softly, she added, “But no. Nothing happened.”

  The deputy said gently, “I wouldn’t say nothing. But I won’t lie to you. If he didn’t rape you, or even if he di
d, all those years ago, you’d have a hard time getting anything off the ground against him now.” Then she pointed her chin at the house. “Do they know?”

  “They do now.”

  “Do they believe you?”

  “My one sister thinks I asked for it. That’s what he says too. None of them defended me just now, so no, I don’t think so.”

  “I believe you, if that helps.”

  Tears welled up. She managed to say, “Thank you. It does help.”

  “You could try to press a charge, and you could get some mud on him. But I’ll be honest, you’d get as much, if not more, on yourself. And nothing will happen. How old were you?”

  She thought a moment. “Fourteen, fifteen, when it started. Sixteen when I ran away.”

  “Then it’s not an issue of who started it. It’s called statutory rape or sexual abuse of a child. But it’s a misdemeanor if intercourse didn’t take place. Statute of limitations is a year.”

  Regina nodded.

  The deputy reached across to the glove compartment, found a Kleenex, and handed it to her. “Is Robert Medina here now?”

  “No, but he’s coming tonight or tomorrow.”

  “You’re staying here?”

  Regina looked at the house. Could she stay there now? “I doubt it.”

  Long moment. “Here’s my card. My name is Laura. You can call me anytime.”

  Regina took the card, thanked her, and got out. The deputy drove slowly down the drive and disappeared. Dust settled. Silence.

  Glancing at the house, Regina thought she saw movement in the window and was seized with a need to get away, to hide. No way could she go back inside. She couldn’t even bear the thought of being seen. She walked quickly, breaking into a trot down the drive until she reached the wood margin and plunged in. Under cover of trees, she stopped, holding her stomach against a moment of nausea. She leaned back against a tree trunk and broke into a cold sweat.

  She struggled with her physical reaction for a good ten minutes, before the nausea, sweat, and saliva subsided. She sank to the ground, feeling weak. After another ten minutes, her mind began to work again, but she found herself at a complete loss. She couldn’t possibly go back to the house. She wanted to drive away and never come back, but she didn’t have her purse or keys. Al was at work in Richmond, three hours away, and anyway, the only telephone was in the house, where she couldn’t go. Her purse and keys were on the hall table, but her overnight bag and clothes were in the attic. She could leave those things behind, but her project was also in the attic. She couldn’t go back to Richmond without that. Not that she’d accomplished anything.