The Master’s Hand

by Diane Noble

  Chapter Twelve

  Livvy unlocked the door from the inside when Kate arrived. Kate quickly filled Livvy in on the latest direction she was going with her research.

  After Kate made a note of files she was looking for from the Chronicle, Livvy pulled them out and handed the microfiche to her. As Kate scooted out a chair and sat down at the nearest reading table, Livvy sat across from her.

  “Can you go for coffee later? Maybe grab something at the diner?”

  Kate nodded. “I’m supposed to be babysitting Kisses, but Nehemiah is pinch-hitting. So yes, let’s grab something. I think a wedge of lemon-meringue pie is calling my name even as we speak.”

  Livvy smiled. “You’re awfully good to that little dog.”

  Kate chuckled. “I do it for Renee.”

  “You’re also a good friend.”

  “How’s James?” Kate asked softly.

  “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about.” She looked at her watch. “Say, a half hour? Will that give you enough time?”

  After Livvy returned to her office, Kate concentrated on locating the June 1949 issues of the Chronicle. The first week of June 1949. Nothing. In the second week’s paper, there was a mere mention of several cases of diphtheria—on page two.

  She leafed through a few more articles, then sat back with a smile. The issue for the third week in June carried a bold headline: EPIDEMIC SWEEPS THROUGH COPPER MILL. DOZENS ILL, QUARANTINED. BUSINESSES AND CHURCHES CLOSE. After skimming through the articles in that week’s paper, she went on to look at week four. MANY STILL QUARANTINED. The headlines didn’t change until the first week in September, when health officials seemed to declare the epidemic under control.

  Kate spent a half hour poring over the articles in the issues for the third and fourth weeks of June, searching for clues—a list of names, addresses of quarantined homes, anything that might stand out. It was as though someone was trying to hide something from her. Nothing was there. At least she’d found the basic confirmation she was looking for, and maybe that was enough.

  All she knew now was that Nehemiah’s memory of the house Davis Carr stayed in that summer being quarantined was most probably accurate—the house Davis said he had such fond memories of. If he’d been ill with diphtheria, it would have been a miserable summer.

  If he hadn’t been stricken with the disease, it was probably equally miserable for an active young boy who would be antsy to get outside and play. Stuck in a house with an ill family in a town where even churches and businesses were closed surely couldn’t have given him the special memories he spoke of.

  Kate returned the files to Livvy, who put them away and grabbed her handbag. The two women made their way to the exit and then crossed the street to head for the diner.

  “Did you find out anything?” Livvy asked as they walked.

  “I verified Nehemiah’s memories of the epidemic, the length of time it lasted, and that a child caught in a quarantined house—no matter whether he was ill or not—couldn’t have had the experiences Davis Carr described.”

  They reached the diner, and Livvy opened the door. Kate stepped inside, and Livvy followed. LuAnne Matthews hollered from behind the cash register for them to sit wherever they wanted.

  “As if she needs to tell us,” Kate grinned as they scooted into a blue vinyl booth by the front window framed by a set of matching blue gingham curtains.

  Then Kate continued. “Nehemiah thinks that if a child was sick enough, ran a high fever, and was delirious, he could have dreamed about all those things.”

  Livvy narrowed her eyes, thinking the scenario through. “Have you ever heard of a case like that?”

  Kate laughed. “Not that vivid and detailed. But Andrew, at about the same age, ran a high fever and thought a loaf of bread was following him around the house and yard, floating in the air like a balloon. He thought it even went to school with him. He talked about it for weeks as if it were the gospel truth. We had to convince him it didn’t happen. He had so much fun telling everyone about that loaf of bread that we actually hated to tell him it was only a dream.” She smiled. “I remember how disappointed he was.”

  Livvy chuckled. “So it could be possible, then, that Davis Carr hallucinated the whole experience, only no one told him it wasn’t true.”

  Kate nodded as LuAnne came over to take their order. After she left, Kate leaned across the table toward Livvy. “But tell me the latest about James. How’s his attitude been?”

  “It’s the same. Danny and Justin will be home tomorrow, which is a blessing. I really need his support. Even though he’s been on the phone with both James and me, it’s not the same as having him here in person. Just pray James will open up to him when they’re face-to-face.” She paused, looking out the window, and Kate noticed her eyes were wet with tears. When she turned back, she said, “He’s hiding something. I just wish he’d open up and tell me what it is.”

  Kate nodded and reached for her friend’s hand. “I know. And I’ll keep doing everything I can to find out what it is.”

  Kate told her about seeing James at the Victorian the day before, and about other observations she was still puzzling over: the oddity of the nonlethal pesticide or poisonous gas, the still-evasive behavior of Clive Garfield, and the strange behavior of Nehemiah’s computer.

  “It picks up Webcams from around the world. He’s found it a wonderful hobby and told us that he even prays for some of the people he comes across on a regular—sometimes daily—basis. What’s really strange is that since he arrived here, his computer seems to have been taken over by some unseen hand.”

  Livvy leaned forward with interest. “What do you mean?”

  LuAnne brought their pie and two forks, then two pots of hot water, cups, saucers, and tea bags.

  After she bustled off to another table, Kate continued. “He might be watching something in China, the Ukraine, or Spain, when suddenly, without any prompting or keystrokes from him, the picture will switch to our little Victorian Museum, picking up the feed from the security cameras. It’s happened several times.”

  Livvy was listening solemnly. Her voice quavered when she said, “I don’t understand much about all this, only what James has mentioned in the past. But it sounds like the IP address has been switched, either by mistake or on purpose.”

  “IP addresses, Webcams, wireless networks—all of that just doesn’t sink into the side of my brain that deals with modern technology,” Kate said with a wry smile. “But the side of my brain that works a little better tells me it has to be a mistake. I can’t imagine why something like this would be done on purpose.”

  Livvy had gone noticeably paler during the conversation. She took a sip of tea, then said, “Setting up the security cameras at the museum is part of what Garfield hired James to do.” She looked away for a moment before again meeting Kate’s eyes. “I worry that he might have something to do with this.”

  Kate reached for her friend’s hand. “He’s obviously good with electronics. Nehemiah and Caroline both have told me what a great job he did with their computers. Maybe he’d be able to shed some light on what’s happening with Nehemiah’s Webcam. Do you think we should ask him about it?”

  “I’ve already tried talking to him, though I didn’t have these new details, of course.” Livvy sighed. “I can try again, but I don’t think it will make a difference.”

  Kate leaned back, holding her cup between her hands as she studied her friend. “Plus, maybe it’s a good thing we can catch a glimpse of what’s going on after hours at the museum.”

  Livvy’s expression softened somewhat. She attempted a smile. “Making lemonade out of lemons.”

  Kate laughed lightly. “I guess while we’re trying to figure all this out, we could think of it like that.”

  They finished their pie, paid the bill, then walked outside. Before heading back to the library, Kate said, “One thing that’s been nagging me with all this is Davis Carr’s motive for his gift. Let’s say that this hig
h-fever-diphtheria-hallucination bit is true, is it a strong enough reason for him to choose our little museum for the debut of these new paintings in his collection?”

  Livvy was catching on fast. “Or for him to go to the trouble of hiring Dr. Celine Diamante to purchase these valuable paintings expressly for this house in obscure little Copper Mill?”

  “Right on, Dr. Watson,” Kate said with a grin. “Or to hire a security company that has, so he says, provided security for his other collections in places from Washington, DC, to New York City?”

  They looked at each other for a minute, then Livvy said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “If you’re thinking there’s something else in the house that he wants, then yes, we’re on the same page.” Kate nibbled on her bottom lip as she thought things through, then added, “Those exterminators weren’t out to kill a flea...or a ladybug. I bet they’re in that house to search for something....”

  “The question is, what?” Livvy added thoughtfully.

  Kate drew in a deep breath. “Whatever it is must be important, otherwise why bother with all the expensive setup.”

  “True,” Livvy said.

  Kate’s mind was whirling again with possibilities as they headed back toward the library, and then stopped in front of the entrance. She remembered the tapping on the museum walls, which she thought was for security purposes, the magnetic tool that carpenters used for finding studs within the walls...ideas were slamming into her brain almost faster than she could process them.

  Livvy was watching her with wide eyes. “You’re onto something. I can see it in your expression.”

  “It’s in the walls,” Kate said a little breathlessly. “It—whatever ‘it’ is—has to be in the walls.”

  “But the place was just refurbished....”

  “True, but we didn’t have the funding to take off the plaster and do any major renovation—just spots here and there for rewiring. So we didn’t get a look into every nook and cranny that might be hidden in any of the rooms.” Then Kate sighed. “This may be far-fetched, but it’s Davis’ motive that makes me wonder....”

  Livvy’s deep sigh matched Kate’s. “And how is James mixed up in this? No matter the scenario, I’m worried most about him.”

  “I know,” Kate said gently. “And I promise, as soon as I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks, my friend,” Livvy said, then started up the library steps.

  “Oh,” Kate called after her, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about someone I observed at the grand opening.” She walked to the bottom of the steps as Livvy descended again.

  “An old man with a long, gray ponytail . . . wears a military-type slouch hat—”

  “Oh, you mean Brother John, though I’m not sure that’s his real name. I’m surprised you haven’t seen him before. He’s lived around these parts for years—somewhere up in the mountains. No one seems to know where. Keeps to himself. Some say he’s just one of those characters who would rather talk to squirrels than to people. Some people think he’s crazy. They say they’ve heard him preaching to deer and raccoons, even bobcats, and praying over birds that have been injured. Why do you ask?”

  “I saw him exchange a strange look with Caroline, then with Davis Carr, who seemed to be afraid of him.”

  “Oh my,” Livvy said. “The plot thickens.”

  Kate winked. “Doesn’t it always?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The scent of something wonderful drew Kate straight to the kitchen as soon as she stepped through the front door. A moment later she lifted the lid from a large pot that was bubbling on the stove. She closed her eyes, reveling in the aroma.

  Greek peasant stew. No one could make it better than Nehemiah! Years ago he had given her his recipe, which she knew so well, she didn’t even have to pull it from her recipe file anymore: potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, onions, peas, corn, green beans, summer squash—and whatever else she could find in the fridge.

  Cut up the veggies and let them simmer in just enough water to keep them from scorching. Add a touch of salt, a liberal grind of pepper, the juice of half a lemon, and a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil. “Don’t ever add the lemon till the end,” he’d admonished, “because the rest of the vegetables won’t get done.” She’d learned later why that was so, but back then, because she’d believed him, she’d never tried adding the lemon too early.

  She couldn’t help spooning a bit out to savor ahead of their meal. She’d just taken a bite when Nehemiah came around the corner, laptop in hand, Kisses trailing along behind him with an almost worshipful look.

  “Little guy likes peasant stew,” he said. “Who would’ve thought?”

  Kate almost choked, thinking of the fussy trouble Renee went to prepare just the perfect nutritional blend of ingredients for her little Chihuahua.

  “Did you find out anything at the library?” Nehemiah asked as he sat down at the table.

  “Just confirmed what you remembered about the epidemic,” she said.

  “And we’ve observed more Webcam switches,” Paul said as he came into the kitchen. He went over to the pot and lifted the lid, took in a whiff, then raised his eyebrows at Kate, a look of pleasure on his face. “Your cooking is almost as good as your sermons, my friend,” he said to Nehemiah.

  Nehemiah didn’t look up from the computer. “Some would turn that around,” he said, then looked up and gave Kate a wink.

  “You’re home early,” Kate said as Paul came over to kiss her cheek.

  “I’ve got some things I’ve got to get back to at the church this afternoon. Thought an early lunch might help.” He waggled his brows. “And now that I see what’s cookin’ I’m glad I made the decision.”

  “What have you seen this morning?” Kate went over to the table and sat down next to Nehemiah. Paul put the lid back on the pot, then sat down across from Kate.

  “The signals crossed again,” Nehemiah said, “I got quite a long look at the paintings. Clear shots from all three cams, one right after the other. The first painting was just fine—that’s the one on the landing. The second one too—the one over the settee. But the third...” He paused momentarily, frowning. “There was a figure in the picture. Standing right in front of the painting.”

  Kate leaned over to have a look, but the monastery in Spain was on the screen. “Another worker?” She pictured the nonexterminating exterminators.

  “Guys in white coats. Like lab technicians. Looked very official, carried clipboards, pens in their pockets, that sort of thing.” Then he laughed. “For the life of me, one looked like a doctor. He was wearing a stethoscope.”

  THAT NIGHT THE PHONE RANG just as Kate was heading to bed. It was Renee, who sounded troubled.

  “Our first meeting was tonight,” she told Kate. “We’d decided to meet at the diner for our organizational meeting.”

  “How did it go?”

  “We elected Mama as the sergeant at arms—the one who will determine if someone’s gossiping and let them know, if they have, that they are no longer welcome in the club.”

  “That would be a hard job, one that takes a lot of...”

  “Grace,” Renee filled in. “I know. So does Mama, and now she’s thinking she’s not up to the job.”

  “She’ll do fine.”

  “I thought so too, but...”

  “What happened?”

  “She’s already caught three of the women gossiping and kicked them out of the club.”

  “Oh dear,” Kate said. “How did that happen?”

  “They were all in the restroom at the diner after the meeting. They didn’t know Mama was in one of the stalls, and they started talking about the club and how it was run.”

  “That sounds more like opinion than gossip,” Kate said.

  “Except that they were saying Mama was too old for the job and that they didn’t think she was up to it.”

  “Uh-oh,” Kate said.

  “Exactly. Apparently Mama came fl
ying out of the stall and told all of them she’d heard them gossiping about her. And gave them their walking papers.”

  Kate sighed. “Did they apologize?”

  “Profusely. But Mama’s standing her ground. Says she wants a letter of apology from each of them before she’ll consider reinstating them. Now they’re accusing her of making up rules as she goes, which in their thinking, isn’t fair.”

  “Oh dear,” Kate said again and whispered a prayer of thanks that she wasn’t involved in the group. “Maybe you need to remind her of God’s grace toward all of us, and that he expects us to reflect that grace to others.”

  Renee let out a sigh. “I’ll try.”

  “And I’ll pray,” Kate said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A few minutes before ten the next morning, Kate and Nehemiah headed to the museum to see if they could make sense of what they’d been observing with the security cameras.

  Eli Weston, owner of Weston’s Antiques in Copper Mill, was setting up the docent program. He met them at the door, gave them a brochure explaining the layout of the museum—the exhibits in all the rooms, upstairs and down, depicting typical furnishings of the era that had been donated by townspeople; the history of the old Victorian house; and a biography of Waterhouse, the artist. On the back of the brochure was a recent photo of Davis Carr, a short bio, and a mention of the museum’s gratitude for his generous grand-opening “gift”—the loan of the exquisite, priceless paintings.

  “It still doesn’t make sense,” Kate whispered to Nehemiah as they headed toward The Enchanted Garden. They scrutinized the painting, then looked at the wall around it.

  Kate ran her hand along the plaster, feeling for any disturbances. There was nothing. She exchanged glances with Nehemiah, then he stooped and ran his hand across the molding on the floor, shook his head slightly, then stood. Kate then concentrated on the painting itself. Strangely, the scratch she had seen on the frame had disappeared.