by Lynne Hinton
Eve didn’t know what to say. Even though their mother had tried to make the two girls quit calling him by that title, he had never acted like he minded. At least, he never ordered them to stop.
“Does she still live there?” she asked again, ignoring his comment.
“She does,” he answered, and then he slowly began to understand what his daughter was thinking.
They both knew that the victim’s BMW had been located on a mining path off the dirt road they were on, the one that ended right in front of the librarian’s house.
“It is possible that she might have taken notice of the recent traffic on this particular stretch of road,” he said.
“It wouldn’t hurt to stop and just see, do you think?” She looked left and right. No cars were coming in either direction.
“Wouldn’t hurt a thing,” he replied. “Except your stomach. I can hear it growling over here. I had a pack of crackers about ten o’clock when I took my insulin. I suspect you haven’t had anything since breakfast.”
“I can wait a bit longer,” she said, and headed across the highway and into the driveway that stopped beside the little house.
FORTY-TWO
Eve put the truck in park. When she got out, the Captain had already exited the vehicle and was standing in front of her. The speed with which he had moved surprised her. He was adapting to the prosthetic without too much trouble. She’d thought the same thing when she watched him walking up the path with Daniel at the Biltmore property. There was a slight limp, the tiniest change to his gait, a minor lean on his good leg, and a little difference in the size, but other than that, a person would have a hard time knowing he even had an artificial limb. He was doing really well, she thought.
She followed him as he headed up the front walk to the house. When she joined him at the door, he rang the bell. In a few minutes the door opened, and a large, older woman was facing the father and daughter. She was wearing a bright yellow dress and a big grin.
“Captain Divine,” she said. “I thought that was your truck.” She had a dish towel in her hands and was wiping them. “And Sister Eve.” She threw the towel across her shoulder and reached out.
Evangeline took one of the extended hands and squeezed it. “Miss Blanchard,” she said and smiled. “We were just out for a morning drive, and we thought we would drop in and say hello.”
“Well, isn’t that a treat for me? Won’t you come in?” And she moved aside, making room for the two to enter.
The house felt cool as Evangeline and the Captain stepped inside. Eve could not remember ever being there before, and as she looked around, it was easy to see the older woman had a love for the written word. There were books stacked everywhere, including on the sofa, which looked like the only place guests might sit. There were shelves and tables but no other chairs in the room.
“Let’s go into the kitchen,” the woman said, heading into the next room. “I’m sorting through all my collections and I’m afraid I’ve made a huge mess.”
The two followed behind her, saw that there were even more books in the other room, and waited as she cleared a place for them to sit at the table.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.
“I would love some water,” Eve answered.
“Captain?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” he replied.
The woman poured the drink for Eve and headed back to the dining table. She handed it to her guest and squeezed her on the shoulder. “You and your sister used to come to the library every Saturday morning,” she said.
Eve took a long swallow. She was very thirsty. She wiped her mouth. “We did,” she said. “And you always had the books on our list pulled and ready for us.”
“A Wrinkle in Time,” she noted, taking her place at the table. “You loved Madeleine L’Engle.”
“Still do,” Evangeline agreed.
“You were always bringing in migrant children, trying to get them library cards, even the ones without proper addresses.”
The woman turned to her other guest before Eve could respond. “And, Captain, how are you doing since the operation?” She shook her head and made a kind of clucking sound. “Diabetes can wreak such havoc on a body.”
He nodded. “I’m doing just fine,” he replied.
“I am so glad to hear it.”
“So, Miss Blanchard, how long have you been retired?” Eve wanted to know. She drank another swallow of her water.
“Let’s see. I think it’s been eight years now,” she said. “A glorious eight years,” she added.
Eve nodded. “And how are things at our little county library?”
“We have a fabulous young lady from Albuquerque working there, and we’ve added computers and a Tuesday evening book club. I still volunteer there two mornings a week, but I am very happy not to be bothered with budget cuts and electronic books.” She sighed. “But pleasantries aside”—she slid a strand of gray hair behind her ear—“I’m sure you didn’t drop by to hear me mourn the passing of leather-bound classics. What you really want to know is whether or not I saw a certain BMW pass my way.”
Jackson quickly turned to Evangeline, and the two then faced the woman.
“Jackson Divine, you’re easier to read than a picture book.”
FORTY-THREE
“Well, that was helpful, don’t you think?” Evangeline was in the kitchen heating up some soup. She had made sandwiches but had already eaten half of hers while preparing the rest of the meal. It was well after two o’clock, and she couldn’t help herself, she was famished.
Jackson was seated at the table. He had a laptop computer open and was preoccupied searching for more information about Ross Biltmore and a book or screenplay titled The Way of Broken Trails. He mumbled a reply.
“I mean, how is it that no one thought to stop and ask her if she had seen anything when Cheston went missing? It seems so obvious to me that with the view of the dirt road from her house, she could be a very important witness.”
He still didn’t reply. He was typing and reading.
“She was certainly clear that she had seen the BMW driving up that road a number of times, even if she didn’t see it the day he disappeared. That now makes two witnesses who know Cheston drove on that road, and it seems very likely that he was visiting his old college roommate. There’s nothing else up there except Madeline’s house and the mines.”
There was no response.
She poured the soup into two bowls and placed the pan in the sink. “And then to remember seeing a black SUV racing from the west end to the intersection on the morning Cheston disappeared, and then speeding away so quickly, well, that has to tell us something. And the fact that she remembers it had a California license plate, that’s incredible!”
She walked to the table and placed the bowls down. She leaned against the chair where she was accustomed to sitting at meals. “Cheston must have gone to Biltmore’s house that morning before dawn, and somebody was either following him or was there waiting.” She studied the Captain, thinking. “Then the driver of that SUV killed Cheston, drove his BMW up past the mine, walked back to Biltmore’s, and drove down the dirt road and out of town. Miss Buttercup saw the getaway.”
She slapped the back of the chair and the Captain, startled, jerked his head in her direction. He stared at her.
She continued, “And she said that the vehicle headed north, going away from Madrid. If Megan was in that car and needed to hurry back to the house before the airport driver arrived, she would have turned left. The house where they were staying was left, not right. This gives us proof that Megan wasn’t the killer.”
The Captain studied her. “That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”
“I don’t see it that way,” she replied, taking her seat.
Jackson shook his head. “We don’t know that Cheston was on that road the day he disappeared. She didn’t see him drive out there. Nobody saw him drive out there. And that SUV could have been anybody. It cou
ld have been a tourist from California who got lost and was in a hurry to find their way. All she saw was a car coming out from the direction of Biltmore’s house. She didn’t see it driving up there, so we don’t even know how long it had been up that road. It could have been someone camping at the mines the night before. You know how folks love to poke around up there.”
Eve nodded. He was right. She bowed her head, finished her prayer, and started eating her soup. She contemplated the new information they had just received. All that Miss Buttercup had really given them was the fact that she had seen Cheston’s car heading up the dirt road that went to Mr. Biltmore’s property a couple of times before he disappeared. She had only confirmed what they had already suspected after hearing Mother Madeline say she had seen the car in Biltmore’s driveway once herself. She took a bite of her sandwich. All they really knew was that Cheston had visited his old college roommate.
“But this is interesting.”
“What?” she asked.
The Captain turned the laptop around so that Eve could see the screen.
It was an article announcing the production of a film being directed by Charles Cheston. The source was the Hollywood Reporter, and it had been published about six months earlier. It listed the names of the director, Cheston; the producer, Polland; the stars, Megan Flint and the latest Hollywood hunk whose name Eve didn’t recognize; the location, central New Mexico; and the title, The Way of Broken Trails. There was a short description of the movie as a Western with a bit of science-fiction flair, and the article also mentioned the name of the screenwriter. Eve glanced up at Jackson. He was grinning. The name was the same as the film’s director, Charles Cheston.
FORTY-FOUR
She took a spoonful of soup, swallowed, and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. She was trying to follow where the Captain was taking this.
He read her confusion. “Maybe Cheston lied about being the writer. Maybe he got his material from Biltmore,” Jackson guessed. “Maybe that’s the reason he was in town, that’s the reason for the visits up that dirt road and onto the driveway of his friend’s property.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned the laptop back around. He pulled down the top a ways and slid it over, making room for his soup and sandwich. “And maybe that’s the reason you found a sheet of paper with this title on it at Biltmore’s house.” He took a spoonful of soup, chewed the piece of chicken that had landed in his spoon, and swallowed. “Cheston had a ghostwriter.”
Evangeline ate the rest of her sandwich. “And maybe Biltmore wasn’t happy that he didn’t get the credit for writing.”
Jackson continued eating and shrugged. “It could be a business deal that went south. Biltmore could have blackmailed Cheston for more money, or maybe he wanted his name in lights along with that of his buddy and Cheston said no. Or maybe Cheston just outright stole the book and Biltmore found out.”
“But Ross Biltmore was out of town when Cheston disappeared. We know that he was on a flight to India a couple of days before Megan declared that he was missing.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t sound like he could be a real suspect in the murder.”
“He could have hired someone to take care of the dirty business.” The Captain was enjoying his lunch. “That could have been the driver of the SUV.”
“I don’t know,” she responded. “That seems awfully hard to prove.” She wiped her mouth. “You’d have to get Mr. Biltmore to come back, and he certainly isn’t going to do that unless he’s charged and extradited by the police. Since they’re happy with the suspect they have, I don’t see them making those arrangements.”
Jackson nodded. “I thought about that,” he noted. “But what if I make a call to him and, let’s say, just roll out this idea of Cheston stealing his work, and see what kind of response we get? At least we would know if there was motive. We’d be able to tell if he was unhappy with his old friend or if this was a business relationship of some sort.” He continued to eat.
Eve nodded. It was all making sense to her. She loved where the work was taking her, the thoughts, the possibilities. She was excited about where the Captain was going. “Do you have the number of where he’s staying in India?”
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Daniel gave it to me when he came this morning to let me know he had gotten permission to check out the property.” He smiled.
“I thought of something else.”
Jackson put the slip of paper on the table and listened.
“Did anybody ever check out the drug connections Cheston had?” Evangeline had wondered if Megan had been right and that he was sober and clean when she arrived, or maybe he was just very good at hiding it. “It’s like that part of his life is completely being overlooked.”
Jackson finished off his sandwich. He seemed to be thinking about the question. “I don’t know the answer to that.” He took a drink from his glass of milk. “But I think that’s also worth some of our time.”
“I could make a visit to Megan in Santa Fe. I sort of wanted to see her anyway. I know this must be a very tough time for her. House arrest has to be terrible,” she said. “She talked to me while you were in the hospital, shared some things, some confidential things.”
“She made a confession?” the Captain wanted to know.
Eve shrugged. “Something like that.” She wasn’t going to tell anything more about the intimate conversations she had with Megan. “Anyway, maybe she can shed some light on where Cheston bought his drugs. She certainly knew a lot about his drug habits. Maybe she could help us out with some names.”
Jackson agreed. “Wonder what time it is in India.”
“Look it up online maybe?”
He nodded, opened the laptop back up, and typed in something. Eve waited.
“Looks like it’s too early to be making a call. I’ll wait until tonight.”
Eve nodded. She was impressed that he seemed to know so much about the computer. His skills were certainly more expansive than hers. She kept up with the abbey’s website and could make a spreadsheet and send and receive e-mails, but she wasn’t very savvy about the latest technology.
“I need to take my insulin,” Jackson said. “But I’d sort of like to take a little trip into town myself. There’s something Daniel told me about Polland that I want to check out.”
“You want to go to the station?” Eve asked, surprised. She knew her father had been pushed out of the loop since taking the case on Megan’s behalf. Daniel sneaking him information was one thing, but to just show up at the station to ask a question was an entirely different approach.
“They can’t stop a retired man from checking on his pension payments.” And he finished the last of his soup, patted his stomach to show he was satisfied, and pushed himself away from the table.
FORTY-FIVE
Once Evangeline was cleared by the officer posted at the front door of the place where Megan was staying under house arrest, she headed inside. She could hear music playing in one of the rooms. Someone, Megan she presumed, was singing along loudly. She stood at the door calling out the young woman’s name. Finally, the music was turned off and Megan came walking toward her from the back of the house.
“Sister Evangeline!” she shouted and quickly ran to Eve and grabbed her in a huge embrace. “I am so glad to see you!”
Eve was startled by the grand show of affection. She was also almost knocked down by the petite star. “Well, I am glad to see you too,” she said, steadying herself.
“Come in, take off your coat. Would you like tea? I have tea.” She ushered Eve into a sitting area, tugging off her coat as she entered. She took the garment and walked back out into the hallway, to hang it up, Eve guessed.
The room was large and decorated tastefully in southwestern charm. There were shelves filled with Indian pots, drums, and kachina dolls, dark leather furniture, tan walls, and ceramic tile flooring. There was a kiva fireplace and beautiful artwork throughout. If the rest of the h
ouse looked like this, Eve thought, Megan wasn’t in as bad a shape as she first expected. This was certainly better than any house arrest she could imagine.
“Should I build a fire?” she asked. “And what about the tea? Did you say you wanted tea?”
Eve shook her head and held out her hand. “Megan, it’s okay. Calm down. Let’s just sit and talk.”
Megan nodded and pulled Eve over to the sofa. The two sat down. The young woman immediately pulled her legs up under her so that she was sitting on them. She bounced a little and Eve thought something seemed very odd about her hostess.
“Megan, are you all right?” she asked.
The young woman leaned up and then fell back against the cushions. “Who, me?” she asked. She shook her head, grabbed a pillow, and hugged it. “I’m great! I’ve got this great house and all these old movies to watch. There’s a karaoke machine. I can talk on the phone and have a massage once a day, get my nails done. I’m just great.” She shot her legs out and bounced some more.
“Are you staying here alone?”
“Who, me?” She placed the pillow that had been in her arms between her and Eve and picked up another. “I am, mostly. Ron—” She stopped. “Mr. Polland, he comes and stays some with me. And there’s David outside, no, wait …” She jumped up and ran to the window and looked out. “No, that’s Billy out there right now.” She flew back to her place on the sofa. “One of them is always out there if I need something. They’re both really nice.” She pulled her legs in and sat cross-legged. She grinned at Eve. “But I’m so glad to see you. I thought you might be gone back to the convent and I wouldn’t see you again.”
Eve shook her head. She narrowed her eyes at Megan, trying to figure out what was going on. She was talking so fast, moving so much.
“Megan, did you take something this morning?”
Megan fell back laughing. “I did!” she answered. “Ron gave me some pills to help me, you know, feel better.” She pulled the pillow close and dropped her face into it. “I was so depressed,” she added.
