Promise Me Forever

by Janelle Taylor

  “I want to view this letter, sir, to see if I recognize the handwriting.”

  “That might be helpful, if it were possible. But it vanished Friday night.”

  Rachel gaped at him. “You mean it was stolen from a police station!”

  “I’m afraid so, ma’am.” The man appeared embarrassed and annoyed.

  “Doesn’t that strike you as odd, sir? Who would provide a tip, then steal it? For what reason?”

  “To get an investigation underway and to keep from being involved.”

  “But breaking in and stealing are crimes,” she reasoned. “Only a fool would do such things in a police station. Doesn’t it make you wonder how this informer got his information and why he altered it into lies?”

  “I figured somebody slipped up on you, saw what you were doing, got suspicious, left without being seen, then reported it to us.”

  “So why accuse me of murder, if all this person saw was a burial? And why follow me to see what I was doing and where I was going?”

  “I hate to say it, ma’am, but probably because of your past.”

  “As there wasn’t a crime, sir, it seems to me that someone was trying to get me into trouble for revenge or spite. Did the script look feminine?”

  He was intrigued. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Perhaps it was a woman who loved and lost one of my husbands.”

  “That’s farfetched, ma’am.”

  “No more than me being accused as a Black Widow, a murderess.”

  He scratched his head and flicked nonexistent dust flecks from his jacket.

  “You have to admit, ma’am, there were good reasons for our doubts and questions every time. It was printed neatly, but I can’t say if a man or woman wrote it. I will tell you that this case isn’t closed yet. If we find discrepancies in the statements, we’ll need to question all of you again. If any other clues come up, we’ll check them out. Chief Anderson hasn’t decided about having a doctor examine the body; that’s still a possibility.”

  “Whatever you need to do to clear me, do it swiftly, please.”

  “I’ll try my best to have this case solved very soon. If you have nothing else to say, read this carefully. If it’s correct, sign it.”

  After he left the room, Rachel mused on what she’d learned. Lula Mae and Burke couldn’t speak correct English, much less write such a letter; and they’d never betray her. Too, others had known her schedule: Harry and George. The tip proved someone knew when Phillip died and how he was buried. It was strange why the culprit didn’t report her deed that day, or on the Saturday or Sunday afterward; the waiting period bewildered her. Why say she was trying to steal his companies? By inheritance, they were hers. Perhaps that part of the note was meant to mislead her and the law.

  Rachel didn’t want to speculate on Daniel Slade, but…Having heard the rumors about her on Thursday, had Dan arrived here Friday and witnessed her behavior, assumed she had slain his old and dear friend, then set out to entrap her? She reflected on their many days and one passionate night together. Had knowing Phillip was dead been the reason why he could seduce his old friend’s wife—no fear of betrayal? No, she concluded, if Dan believed she murdered Phillip, he would handle the revenge himself, after he was certain she was guilty.

  Later, in Savannah, Rachel entered the telegraph office and sent messages to Harry and George: “Sad news. Phillip died. Gave no client name. Cannot find money. Will await client arrival May fourteen. Need facts on deal before honor. Rachel McCandless.” One task out of the way today.

  She went to McCandless & Baldwin Shipping Firm to handle the second. She did not knock, and entered to find Milton at work at his desk.

  The green-eyed man glanced up, looked at her a moment, and stood. He smiled and said, “Hello, Rachel. This is a pleasant surprise. Come in and sit down. You won’t believe what happened while you were away. The police came to see me Thursday with a foolish story that Phillip is dead.”

  Rachel watched the man with his black hair and even features as she responded, “I’m afraid it’s true, Milton; Phillip is dead. He came down with cholera and died on the twenty-sixth of last month.”

  “My God, it’s true! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  To Rachel, he appeared shocked, but seemed to recover quickly. “I’ll explain that in a moment. First, what did the officers ask you?”

  Milton’s quizzical green gaze settled on her face. “They came by and wanted to know where Phillip was. I told them he was away tending to other business; that’s what I believed. They asked if he’d acted strange before he left; I said he hadn’t. They told me about an anonymous letter claiming Phillip was dead, that you’d killed him and buried him secretly. I said that was mad, that you and Phillip love each other and are very happy. They wanted to know who he used as a doctor. I told them, and they left.”

  “Did you send that news to Harry or George on Thursday? Or later?”

  “Certainly not! I thought it was nothing but a cruel joke.”

  “Did the police speak with you again Saturday after they saw me?”

  “No, they couldn’t: I was off fishing with friends. I haven’t received any messages or visits since Thursday. What’s going on, Rachel?”

  She hurried on with questions she needed to learn the answers to. “What do you know about this big arms and ammunition deal with the other two companies, the one you’re shipping out on May fourteenth?”

  He hesitated a minute. “Nothing much, except the date and two men’s initials. For some curious reason, Phillip wouldn’t discuss it with me. I assumed it was a private deal. What’s going on, Rachel?” he asked again.

  Once more she ignored his query to continue her line of questions. “You have no idea about the names that go with those initials?”

  “No. Why? And why does Harry want to know about the deal, too? He and Phillip are—were—partners. Why wouldn’t he be informed? He telegraphed me to ask the destination of the delivery ship. All Phillip told me was to write down Haiti. Is there, was there a problem between them?”

  She tried to be clever to delude him, to use clues to extract other ones. “I’m not sure yet. That’s why I had to rush off to Augusta and Athens. Before Phillip died, he mentioned a mystery and asked me to check it out immediately. After he died I rushed off to carry out his last wish before this news was exposed. I’m sorry I had to deceive you for a short time, Milton, but I didn’t want you dropping a hint to his other partners; and I wanted to wait until we could sit down and talk in person. Do you understand?” She put on her most innocent look.

  The thirty-two-year old man murmured, “I suppose so… What do you want to do about your share of the firm?”

  She noticed he changed the subject to a selfish topic. “I’d like to go over the books with you first, then decide.”

  “Certainly, Partner. We can do that right now, if you have time.”

  “The sooner, the better. Thank you, Milton.” She observed him as he pulled Phillip’s chair over to his desk, unlocked a drawer, and withdrew a ledger. He opened it and located the section he wanted. He didn’t seem too grieved over her husband’s death, and that troubled Rachel. Neither did he appear distressed to have her as his new partner, if he’d given that much thought yet. He looked up and smiled at her.

  “If you’ll have a seat next to me, we’ll begin. It won’t take long.”

  Milton was right, it didn’t. “As you can see, we’re in deep debt,” he remarked as he finished his explanation. “Current shipments are just barely keeping us afloat by covering current expenses; not much left over to pay rear bills. Those attacks recently cost us plenty to settle them. Phillip, you now, and I are fortunate we both have other investments for support.”

  Rachel eyed the ledger. It didn’t look altered, as it would if he’d been warned to do so before she viewed it. But how did she know there wasn’t another book for other ships and cargoes? Should she believe this was the whole stormy picture? Did she have any reaso
n to distrust Milton Baldwin?

  “I’m looking forward to the large payment for delivering that cargo on the fourteenth,” he said. “I assume it will proceed. We—you and I—surely need it. There’s just too much competition these days to make this business profitable anymore. I’ve been seeking new clients and trying to recover old ones we’ve lost to cheaper prices; so far, it doesn’t look promising. We sold off two ships last month to cut expenses; keeping so many idle in port was draining us of needed money. If something good doesn’t happen soon, selling everything won’t even get us in the clear or leave us with much—if any—profit. If Phillip hasn’t already told you how terrible matters have gotten, I’m sorry you’re having to hear it from me today.”

  “So am I, Milton, and I was in the dark. It doesn’t look good.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t. If I locate a buyer, are you interested in selling out before we sink?”

  “I suppose so. But we’ll discuss that possibility later. I do have to leave; I have several other appointments today. Thank you again, Milton.”

  “If you need any help or advice, Rachel; you know where to find me.”

  She feigned a smile. “That’s very kind of you. Good-bye.”

  As she walked to the cafe where she was scheduled to meet Dan, Rachel fumed. Why offer friendship now when you and your wife haven’t socialized with me in the past unless it was necessary! Your partner and supposed friend is dead, and you didn’t seem to care much. Why?

  Dan was waiting for her. She put on a cheerful smile and joined him.

  “Good morning, love,” he whispered. “How are things going?”

  “Not good at all today. The—” She halted when the waiter arrived to take their orders, then left. “The law showed up very early to take our statements. Have they seen you yet?”

  “Early this morning, but a nicer officer this time. I made certain my story will match yours. Lula Mae and Burke knew to say I was present?”

  “Yes, I explained things to them after your departure Saturday. That’s the only lie they had to tell. Have you noticed any shadow following you?”

  “No, and you aren’t being followed, either. Luke’s across the street near a tree. He just gave me the clear signal. You look upset.”

  Rachel related her meeting with Milton Baldwin. “It seems all three of Phillip’s companies are in almost desperate need of money. That gives more and more of a reason why he would accept a mysterious deal like this.”

  “Are you in financial trouble, love?”

  “Certainly not. I’m seeing the banker, insurance broker, and lawyer after we eat. The companies need money, but I don’t think they’re broke. I have the plantation and earnings from sharecropping. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you need anything, please tell me.”

  She tried not to stare at his handsome face. “Stop worrying.”

  “I will worry until we can risk another meeting on Thursday and you tell me all is fine. I wish you didn’t have to do this alone.”

  “I can manage it, honestly.” She told Dan about her home being searched during their absence and about being shot at again. “Whoever it is isn’t trying to kill me, just terrify me. Frankly, it’s making me more angry and defiant than afraid. We’ll finish this later; here comes our food.”

  Rachel received astonishing news at the bank: their account was almost empty, barely enough there to pay one month’s expenses! And that was if she managed it carefully. She had only a little cash at home in her household money box. She stared at the large withdrawals almost every month and wondered where that money had gone. She fretted it had been lost due to Phillip’s gambling. Almost penniless… That fact evoked horrible reminders of her days near poverty after Craig’s death. She left the bank in a state of dismay and confusion, and nibblings of anger.

  Her visit with the insurance broker was worse. Phillip had canceled his insurance in February! The man said it was because he couldn’t afford to continue it. He said it was a shame it was dropped so close to when it was needed, but Rachel did not detect a wicked implication in his words or manner. The man was polite and sympathetic.

  As she walked toward the lawyer’s office with a heavy heart, Rachel imagined what people and the law would think if they learned about the cancellation of the insurance: that Phillip had feared for his life and had done it so his murderess couldn’t inherit his wealth after she did away with him. She dreaded the new gossip which was sure to come soon and felt her resentment and anger increase.

  The lawyer did give her a little good news: she was Phillip’s sole heir to his shares of three businesses and the plantation. Yet, the man revealed that her husband had seen him on the street on March twenty-fourth and he had asked for an appointment on the twenty-ninth “to discuss a serious legal problem,” but, of course, hadn’t kept it. Rachel told him that she didn’t know what the meeting would have covered, but she suspected it was to obtain advice about the illegal deal. She was glad he didn’t hint at her husband’s intention to change his will to exclude a woman he feared.

  The lawyer informed her that Phillip had mentioned he might want to sell his two out-of-town partnerships, as they weren’t profitable anymore. Nor did he like having businesses so far away. He told her Phillip had hinted at putting the sale money into the shipping firm to get it back on solid ground. The man studied the file to make sure he had covered everything.

  In view of the big deal, she mused, how could Phillip think or say the two companies weren’t making money? Unless he intended to break that mysterious contract…Or to take his profit first, then sell? Had Harry or George—or both men—known of Phillip’s plans to break up their partnerships? Would they do anything to prevent losing a needed investor? Or perhaps Phillip had planned to sell out only because he needed cash. It was odd her husband hadn’t mentioned such things to her.

  Rachel thanked the lawyer for his assistance and left. She stood outside his office for a time, thinking and planning her next step. She had no insurance, and virtually no money in the bank. She wouldn’t receive support from sharecropper earnings until fall, five months away, if no disaster occurred to destroy the crops. With the three companies in trouble, so was she. Milton had exposed that about the firm; and George and Harry had implied it about the arms and ammunition companies. If that mysterious deal fell through, all those holdings could collapse.

  These revelations had to explain why Phillip was so desperate to make money any way necessary. Phillip would never want to lose his masculine pride and be humiliated by financial devastation. He could have used that advance to gamble with, hoping to earn enough winnings to rescue himself, then back out of the hazardous deal with a polite refusal, rich from using their money as a stake. If he had been so foolish and couldn’t face ruin, humiliation, and perils, would he take his life to avoid them? Rachel couldn’t answer that distressing question and didn’t want to think about it.

  She asked herself if the other partners could be just as desperate to save their reputations. It was possible that Harry had exploited Phillip’s weakness and plight to coerce him into restarting that order. Both had warned that without the advance, the deal couldn’t go through, even if it were legal. Rachel trembled in dread. Even if she sold Moss Haven and all three partnerships, she could not collect enough to replace five hundred thousand dollars if she were forced to be responsible for its loss. If she knew the deal was legal, she would have asked the lawyer about that angle. But she was in enough trouble without taking more risks. She had inherited Phillip’s section of the assets but probably his shares of the companies’ debts, too. She wondered if Dan’s orders and payments would make any difference with the companies’ finances. She hoped so.

  Rachel knew she had to learn where she stood. She returned to the telegraph office and sent Harry and George a second message: “Am your partner now. Please send financial report fast. Will check company books soon. Advise when ready and convenient. Rachel McCandless.”

&nb
sp; As Rachel waited for Burke Wells to pick her up in the carriage at the agreed time and location, she was lost in thought over her troubles. She had been married three times to wealthy men, but had virtually no inheritance. She had been a fairly good wife and done nothing wrong, but she was believed to have murdered all her husbands and the son of one of them. Surely she was cursed by wicked fate! She yearned for Dan’s strong arms to give her courage and comfort.

  She was tempted to go to his hotel and to fall into his arms, to entice him to take her away from all these troubles. But she couldn’t. That would make both of them appear guilty of murdering Phillip to be together. They would never make it out of port on his ship before the law tossed them into jail. Besides, she had to stay here and fight these cruelties against her, to put an end to the evil spell on her, to be free to marry Dan without risking his survival.

  Burke arrived and she got into the carriage. They rode home in near silence as the manager comprehended she had worries on her mind.

  “Burke, I need to speak with you and Lula Mae about something important,” she told him as she stepped down from the carriage. “Please come into the house after you put away the horses.”

  When the three gathered in the kitchen, Rachel said, “I want to thank both of you for doing so well with the authorities. I hated to ask you to tell that one little lie, but without Captain Slade’s help, I doubt those hateful men would have believed us. They probably would have carted me off to jail, even with no evidence I’d done something wrong.”

  “We done just like you said, Miz Rachel. Gawd won’t go ablamin’ us for he’pin’ you. Ain’t no call fur dem poleece to be botherin’ you. Dey’ll be pow’ful sorry dey messed wif us if dey do. De worst is over.”

  She took a deep breath, then murmured, “I wish it was, Burke, but I received bad news in town today.” She lightly skimmed the story of her financial condition. It wasn’t necessary for her servants to know the private details, only that rough times on the plantation were ahead. “For a while, until I get matters settled, we’ll need to be careful with spending.”