by Rhys Bowen
My estimation of Archie Van Horn rose. Until now I had thought him one of those not-too-bright sons of the Four Hundred.
“Well, we’ll know soon enough, sir. We’ll be sending this jar to look for fingerprints on it, and we’ll be taking fingerprints from everyone here.”
“What do you mean, ‘taking fingerprints’?” Mrs. Flannery’s voice trembled.
“Nothing to worry about, ma’am. Unless you’re guilty, that is. It’s simply a matter of pressing your fingertips onto a pad of ink and then pressing the inky fingers onto a sheet of paper. As simple as that. Now I suggest you all go into the house so that my men know where to find you. I want another word with the gardeners. Oh, and nobody is to think of leaving the area at this juncture. Nobody.”
“We have a business to run, man,” Joseph said. “Do use a little common sense. Why would I have wanted to kill my brother when we had been so successful together?”
“And I could never do a terrible thing like that,” Mary Flannery said. “Poison my own dear brother? Never. None of us would. We respected him and we loved him.”
“Then you have nothing to upset yourself about, ma’am. If your fingerprints don’t show up on that jar or packet, we can assume that none of you is guilty and you’ll all be free to leave.”
One by one they started to drift away. I touched Prescott on the sleeve. “I have to get back to my husband,” I said. “I’ve already left him long enough as it is. But I’ll be in the cottage if you want me.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said in a low voice so that the others couldn’t hear. “I can safely rule out you and your husband from the investigation. In fact I’m now of the firm belief that Mr. Hannan wanted your husband here because he suspected that something like this might happen. I just wish he’d given your husband more of a clue. Right now we’ve got nothing to go on.”
I left him and made my way back to the cottage. As I crossed the lawn I realized that I had never actually had that tea, to which I had been invited, and I have to confess that I sneaked an éclair as I passed. I would have sneaked one for Daniel too but I didn’t think he’d be up to it. The moment I started to think about him, I began to worry. Had I left him for too long? Was he all right? Would the girl have checked on him often enough? I found myself walking faster and faster until I was almost running by the time I reached the front door.
“Martha?” I called.
She appeared from the kitchen. “Yes, ma’am?”
“How is Mr. Sullivan?”
“Sleeping like a baby last time I looked in,” she said.
Sleeping like a baby. My heart lurched. What if he had slipped away and she hadn’t even noticed? I ran up the stairs and burst into the bedroom. Daniel was lying there looking so peaceful and still. Holding my breath I tiptoed up to him. Was he breathing? I put my face down close to his and had just given a sigh of relief when I felt faint warm breath on my cheek when he opened his eyes.
“What?” he asked, starting in alarm.
“I’m sorry.” I had to smile at his shocked face. “I came back and you were so still and peaceful that I had to find out if you were still breathing.”
“If you wanted a sure way to scare a fellow to death, then put your face two inches from his,” he said. I noticed he was still breathing heavily as he spoke, as if he’d just run a race, but his eyes no longer had that awful hollowness.
I sat on the bed beside him and stroked his cheek. “You’re looking better already,” I said
“Where were you?” he asked “I woke up and you weren’t here.”
“I was out to tea,” I said.
“Out to tea?”
“The family invited me to join them for tea on the lawn.”
“That was nice for you.”
“I didn’t get my tea as it happened. We had just started when Chief Prescott arrived and made the startling announcement that the body contained traces of cyanide.”
Daniel raised his head, attempting to sit up. “Cyanide? Good God. That’s something I wouldn’t have expected. So he was poisoned and then the body dumped over the cliff.”
“Or more likely he was standing near the cliff when he drank the poison and collapsed over the edge. That would explain the shattered glass among the rocks.”
“Fascinating. I wonder what Prescott plans to do next.”
“You lie back.” I pushed him gently down. “You’re not getting involved in this. You’re to rest, remember and get your strength back. Chief Prescott is taking everyone’s fingerprints and seeing if they match up on the packet or jar containing the cyanide.”
“Ah, so they’ve found that, have they?”
“They have found a jar, containing some cyanide in the shed. That doesn’t necessarily mean that that particular lot of poison was used. However if anyone’s fingerprints can be detected on it, then we’ll know.”
Daniel closed his eyes, thinking. “The boy said he’d taken fishing tackle from the shed, didn’t he? And he was the one who found the body. That’s always interesting.”
“I know. I thought the same thing. Someone should check into him. I thought I might befriend his grandmother who is clearly upset by all this. She might inadvertently share some revealing facts about her grandson. We do know that he had become a Junior Eastman. Who knows, maybe he was following orders from Monk.”
“Or he had an ax to grind against his grandfather. Maybe Grandpa was making him tow the line and he resented it. Sometimes that’s all it would take.”
“But do you think a boy like that would be savvy enough to use cyanide? It’s not an easy substance, is it? And highly dangerous for anyone who breathes the fumes, I remember reading.”
Daniel was silent for a while, considering this. “No, I can’t see a boy using that method—unless some adult had instructed him and that wouldn’t be the way that Monk Eastman would dispatch an enemy. I think of it as a more, shall we say, refined type of murder? And you’re probably right and they’ll find that the cyanide in the packet here has nothing to do with the crime.”
I looked out of the window and the long shadows stretching across the lawn. The clouds were almost upon us. I wonder if they’d mean another storm.
Daniel put a hand on my arm. “Maybe we should abandon all this speculation. It’s not your case, Molly. Not mine either. So don’t get involved. Leave it to the local police.”
“But you said he was an idiot.”
“Maybe, but it’s still his province, not ours. Especially if it turns out that somehow corruption in New York is involved.”
I frowned, trying to make worrying thoughts that flitted around my brain slow down enough so that I could voice them. My eyes strayed toward the great black shadow cast across the lawn by the castle and I realized what had been worrying me all along. “This may sound silly, but I can’t get it out of my mind that Brian Hannan’s death is somehow linked to the death of his granddaughter.”
“The little girl? How could that be—apart from both of them falling off a cliff.”
“That’s one thing,” I said. “‘Exactly the same spot,’ I heard one of them say.” I turned to face him. “There’s something strange about it, Daniel. Something not right. This refusal to speak about her. I mean if you’d lost a beloved child, wouldn’t you want to remember her fondly sometimes? Wouldn’t you want to look at her picture sometimes? Would you really act as if she never existed?”
“What are you trying to say?” He was frowning at me.
“That there may be a secret this family is keeping from us—”
“Oh, I’d believe that all right,” Daniel cut in. “I’m sure the Hannan brothers have plenty of things they’d like to be kept hidden. What New York politician has not been involved in corruption and graft. And then there are shady business practices…”
“No, not that kind of secret. I meant to do with the death of little Colleen.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “What are you trying to say? You think that maybe it
wasn’t an accident? That she was murdered too, and her body dumped like her grandfather’s?”
“I bet they didn’t do an autopsy to show whether she was poisoned.”
“Interesting,” Daniel said, “but a little far-fetched.”
“Then why not speak about her? Why have they all been scared into silence?” I stood up suddenly as a wild thought flashed across my mind. “Or how about this? What if she’s not really dead?”
“But we saw her grave.”
“What if there’s nobody in it? Listen, Daniel. We know how much Brian Hannan liked perfection. All his family had to dress well at all times. He has expensive and beautiful things around him. What if Colleen fell from the cliff and wasn’t killed, but badly disfigured. They could have kept her shut away all this time.”
“Now that is definitely far-fetched.” He smiled.
“What about the face I saw at the window? I know I saw it, Daniel. So it was either a ghost or a real person. Either way there was somebody up in that turret and everyone is denying that there is even a way up to that part of the house.”
“So what are you trying to tell me now—that she came down from her prison and murdered her grandfather because he’d kept her locked up?”
I shrugged. “When you put it like that it does sound a little crazy, I’ll admit.”
Daniel was still smiling, the sort of smile one gives to humor a child. “How old would she be now? Twelve? A twelve-year-old child finds cyanide in a shed, lures her grandfather out to the cliff with alcohol, pops the cyanide into his drink, then pushes him over the cliff. Think about it, Molly.”
“Very well, I agree that doesn’t sound possible. But I have a gut feeling that there’s something strange going on. You’ll see. Something they know about Colleen’s death that they are not telling us. Mrs. McCreedy knows something, and she’s frightened.”
“Then all the more reason for you to stay well away.” His fingers gripped around mine. “Molly, I know you pride yourself on your detective skills and I’m sure you want to show me that you’re as fine a detective as I am. Well, I’m not doubting your skills, but sometimes I doubt your judgment. So I’m telling you now, as my wife, don’t put yourself in harm’s way. Those people have made it quite clear that we are not welcome here and they want us gone as soon as possible. If they know that one of their family members is a murderer, all the more reason for us to respect their wishes and leave them alone.”
“Yes, Daniel,” I said in simpering wifely fashion, making him laugh.
“You can’t fool me with this sudden meekness.” He reached up and ruffled my hair, then took my face in his hands and pulled me down to kiss him. “You’re a good woman, Molly Murphy,” he whispered, as I nestled my head on his shoulder. “And I want to keep you around for a long while.”
I felt his heart beating against mine and gave a little prayer of thanks that he was still alive. My first task now was making sure he recovered quickly and fully, and I’d leave Chief Prescott and his men to pursue this murder investigation, however tempting it was to join in. I closed my eyes and fell asleep against Daniel.
Twenty-four
In my dream I thought that an audience was applauding. Then I opened my eyes and realized that the rain had come—a hard pattering against the thatch that sounded remarkably like clapping. I got up and looked out of the window and thought I saw a flash of lightning out to sea. At least we were snug in our little cottage tonight and didn’t have to go anywhere. Martha tapped on the door at that moment.
“I’m off home then, Mrs. Sullivan,” she said. “I’ve heated up the soup like you wanted, and there’s cold ham and tongue and some salad for you at the table in the dining room.”
“Thank you, Martha.” I followed her down the stairs.
“I’m glad he’s feeling better, ma’am,” she said as we reached the front hall. “Mrs. McCreedy said this morning that she thought the poor man was done for and we’d have a second death on our hands.”
She took her shawl down from the hook.
“Tell me, Martha,” I said. “How long have you worked for the Hannan family?”
“About five years, ma’am.”
“So you weren’t here when that terrible thing happened to little Colleen?”
“No ma’am. We heard that a tragedy had befallen a child on the estate and then we saw the funeral, of course. But that’s about it. When they came in the summer they brought all their own servants from the city with them. Mrs. McCreedy and the gardeners were the only locals they employed, and frankly the Hannans were not looked upon with much favor among the people of Newport. Newly rich upstarts—no better than ourselves, not old money like the Rockefellers.”
“I see,” I said. “Well thank you for your help, Martha. It’s been a big comfort to me.”
“We changed our minds later,” she added as she opened the front door. “Mr. Hannan was a generous man. He paid well.” She opened the door and looked out. “We’re in for another wild night, I can tell. Best hurry home before it starts in earnest.”
I watched her go out into the rain. I had just shut the front door again and was on my way to the kitchen to see about Daniel’s soup when the front door opened.
“It’s me again, Mrs. Sullivan. There are some people outside the gate. I could hear them talking softly in the darkness. Should we tell them at the big house, do you think?”
“What kind of people?”
“Hard to tell in the dark, but I heard one say, ‘There has to be another way in.’ And knowing what just happened to the master, I thought I should tell someone.”
I took down my own cape. “Quite right,” I said, although I suspected that her return to find me had more to do with her own unease than with her sense of duty. “I’ll come and see if you like.”
“Oh, go carefully, ma’am. They might be armed.”
“It’s not as if it’s the middle of the night,” I said. “I don’t think we can be in too much danger.” But even as I said it I realized that Brian Hannan had probably died in the early evening hours and nobody had seen anything.
However I put on a good show of bravery as I walked ahead of her toward the gate. The rain had died down to a gentle patter on the dry leaves. At first I couldn’t see anybody but I soon picked up a rustling just behind the wall.
“Have you found a door yet?” came a shrill whisper.
“There had better be one. I’m not about to climb over the top,” came a whisper in reply.
“They’re trying to get in.” Martha grabbed my arm. “Shouldn’t I run and tell the gentlemen at the house?”
I inched closer to the gate and peered out. I caught a movement of light fabric, contrasting with the darkness of the ivy. It seemed to be a skirt, moving in the breeze. The words white lady flashed into my mind. The boys swore they had seen somebody running across the lawn. Maybe their ghost had been all too real—a real person who had managed to gain access once and was now back again. The thought struck me that news of Brian Hannan’s death would have reached New York by now and that these intruders were most likely newspaper reporters, determined to get a scoop. Suddenly I wasn’t afraid, just angry.
“What are you doing out there?” I demanded. “If you want to see the Hannan family you can telephone them to make an appointment. Or you can return in daylight.”
“It’s not the Hannan family we want to see.” One of the figures came out of the ivy and started to walk toward me. “We understand you have a Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan staying on the property. It’s them we’ve come to visit.”
And out of the shadows stepped my dear friend and next door neighbor Elena Goldfarb, usually known to her friends as Sid. She was followed by Miss Augusta Walcott, of the Boston Walcotts, who went by the nickname of Gus. I saw delight and recognition flood their faces as they saw who I was.
“Molly, my dear,” Gus said, running toward me, arms open. “I am so glad to see you.”
“We came as soon as we got the telegram.” Sid was o
ne pace behind her. “We thought you wouldn’t want to be alone at such a difficult time. How is Daniel? Are we too late?”
“Over the worst, thank God,” I said. “He survived the crisis last night and I think he’s going to be all right.” To my own surprise these last words came out as a great hiccupping sob and tears welled up in my eyes.
Gus extended her hands to me through the bars of the gate and I took hold of them. “Oh, that’s wonderful news,” she said. “We were so worried all the way here. The wretched train moved at a snail’s pace.”
“Molly, can you please let us in?” Sid said. “I’d like to give you a hug and there are bars in the way. I feel like a prison visitor.”
I swallowed back the tears. “Wait a second.” I turned back. “Martha, come and give me a hand with this gate.”
Together we raised the peg that locked it and dragged it open.
“For some reason the gate is always locked at nightfall here,” I said. “But come in, do. You don’t know how happy I am that you’re here.”
“Molly, dearest. As if we’d stay away in your hour of need.” First Sid then Gus enveloped me in a big hug.
“I’ll be off home then, Mrs. Sullivan,” Martha said. “Seeing as how these are friends of yours.”
“Oh, right. Yes. Thank you, Martha,” I said. Together we shut the gate behind her.
“So everyone is imprisoned for the night?” Sid asked.
“There is another door, apparently, but I haven’t been shown where it is,” I said. “Come inside, do, before the rain picks up again.”
“Oh, we got good and soaked getting into the cab and then walking up to the house, didn’t we, Sid,” Gus said. “But there’s no harm in a little rain. We didn’t wear our best hats.”
And she laughed.
“We’re not staying in the big house,” I said, steering them away from the main gravel drive to a small flagstone path.
They stared up at the massive dark shape beyond us. “Oh, I remember this, don’t you, Sid?” Gus said. “We laughed about it. We called it the Evil Castle.”
