The phone rang, startling her from her thoughts. When she answered, it was the voice she wanted to hear, but he spoke in a near-whisper, asking, “Is Julianna there?”
“Julianna?” Jealously tainted her voice. “No, she’s gone.”
“Ah, that’s what I wanted to hear.”
Polli laughed, relieved by his words. “She’s taking the baby somewhere and then going to see her parents.”
“Well, after our most . . . unpleasant . . . altercation at the ball, I don’t relish the thought of bumping into her.”Polli laughed again.
“Anyway, Paulette, I’m coming by before going to the hospital. Is that all right?”
“Yeah . . . um yes, but there’s no one here but me. Well, Cassie and those men who work outside, but it’s really only me—”
He interrupted her rambling. “Perfect. I’ll see you soon.”
The call left her smiling, entertaining visions of him throwing down the receiver and dashing over to be by her side. She pushed away from her desk and ran to the bathroom where she fluffed her hair and reapplied her makeup. She re-tucked her blouse into the waistband of her skirt then finished off with a quick squirt of Jungle Jane, the perfume he seemed so overcome by.
He let himself in the front door then came back to Polli’s desk, where he stood over her and smiled. She looked up and took him all in, loving how good he looked in his expensive suit. When he bent down and kissed her cheek, his cologne smelled warm and spicy.
“I can’t stay long,” he said apologetically, “but I wanted to sneak by and see you.”
She didn’t want to ask him anything about the convention, fearful that he might lie again. Instead, she chose to talk about better times. “I had a good time at dinner the other night.”
“So did I.” He smiled. “We’ll do it again soon.” He gave his stomach a pat. “I wish you hadn’t mentioned food, though. I haven’t eaten lunch and am about to starve.”
“Oh, well, I could make you a sandwich,” she said eagerly. “Cassie’s gone to the market, but I heard the two black men talking, and they said there was leftover roast beef in the kitchen.”
He nodded, “Sounds nice,” he told her. “Would you mind?”
“Not a bit.” She was happy to take care of him, more than happy. She jumped up from her desk and practically skipped toward the kitchen. “I’ll yell . . . I mean, I’ll call when it’s ready.”
“Take your time,” he said. “I’m going into Richard’s office and choosing a couple of books from his collection. He might enjoy having something to read while recuperating.”
Leyton waited until she was out-of-sight, then went to the coat closet and took down the small box that hid the key to Richard’s safe. Leftover roast beef, he thought, shaking his head. Probably her idea of fine dining.
He swiftly unlocked the safe and retrieved the will, scanning it like a speed reader and grinning when he saw that his name was still the document’s shining star.
He returned the will to its sacred spot then rummaged quickly for the papers that were missing from his personal files. Thumbing through a stack of labeled folders, he came across insurance papers, birth certificates, personal holdings, property deeds, and one plain manila folder. He flipped it open, finding that it harbored Richard’s proof of wrongdoing and his own confirmation that he had been caught.
Caught. He never imagined the word finding its way into his vocabulary. An acidic bile spread throughout his chest and rose into his throat. His mouth was suddenly so dry. He needed a glass of water.
Polli’s pointy high heels were coming across the hardwoods. Hearing them, Leyton whipped out the missing papers and stuffed them inside his jacket, then returned everything else to its proper place. He had just closed the closet door and was about to step from Richard’s office when Polli’s cheerful face popped in.
“Lunch is ready,” she said, all sing-songy until her eyes dropped to his empty hands. “Thought you were picking out some books.”
“I can’t find a thing he hasn’t already devoured,” Leyton pretended to complain.
“Oh, well, come on and eat.” Polli headed for the dining room and Leyton followed, dreading this lunch like a hammer to his toe. Until he was safely out of town, though, Polli could still prove handy, and he didn’t want to alter her perky mood. Still, he could only stay a short while, knowing how much he needed to do if he wanted to finance his sudden disappearance. He was sad to acknowledge he would leave without nearly the money he would have had if his two-year plan had played out, but that was not worth dwelling on now. Now he only wanted to escape with what he could to avoid a prison cell and prosecution for attempted murder. “I can only stay a minute,” he said as they sat down at the table. “You understand that I have family obligations right now.”
“Sure, I understand,” she said, watching with adoring eyes as he bit into the sandwich she had made. “Are you going to the hospital?”
“Absolutely,” he lied. “But I’ll be going to the bank as well. That’s where Richard would most want me to be, running the ship while he’s incapacitated.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Say, do you know much about the wreck?”
He nodded. “I called the hospital and got the details.” It was partially true. He had called because it was what everyone expected and because he needed to find out more about Richard’s condition. The nurse had been tight-lipped about any details and only gave him the basic information about the patients’ condition. He wasn’t going to tell Polli that, though, wasn’t going to tell anyone that a desk nurse had been unmoved and unintimidated by his name.“I talked to Aunt Bertha,” Polli said. “She claims the radio is saying there might have been another car around, that it ran them right down into Ghost Gorge.”
Leyton scowled. “To think that someone would do such a thing and then run away from the scene.”
“Aunt Bertha called them cowards.”
He bristled under Bertha’s insult. He felt his anger flash across his face like lightning illuminating a window. He made himself recover instantly and forced a calm smile. “What’s important is that the Sheffields survived.”
“I wonder who was driving,” Polli said. It was a curiosity, not a question.
“Audrey,” Leyton said, recalling how he had watched from the road as she got in the driver’s side of the Packard. His face portrayed a sympathy he didn’t really feel. “Knowing Audrey, she’ll probably blame herself.”
“Hmmm,” Polli murmured, unconcerned. “How’s your sandwich?”
“Splendid,” he said, taking another bite. When finished, he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin and said, “I hate to run, Paulette, but I must.”
“I know.”
“But before I do …” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, long and lingering, then he pulled away slowly as though he found it unbearable to part.
She looked stunned and flushed, unable to even utter her goodbye as he stood from the table and left the room.
Polli listened to his departing footsteps and the closing of the front door, then she jumped up and paced circles around the table.
He kissed me, finally. A real, true kiss on the lips. She gathered his dirty plate and crumpled napkin then danced into the kitchen where she rinsed and dried the plate, pretending it was her kitchen in her house, and that the man was hers as well.
Finished in the kitchen, she went back to her desk and made a couple of personal phone calls. One was to the beauty parlor to make an appointment for a new hairdo, and the other was to Mitzi, who was working the lunch shift at Winnie’s Diner.
“You working split-shift tonight?” she asked her roommate.“No, why?” Mitzi sounded harried against a background of clattering plates.
“Let’s grab a bite to eat. Wait’ll I tell you about today.”
“Sure, sounds fine.”
“Okay.” Polli stopped as she heard a car pull up in front of the house. “Gotta go, Mitz. Someone’s here.”
Has he co
me back? She was hopeful as she listened to a key being inserted into the lock on the front door. But no, it was Julianna, rushing in and saying something about forgetting a bag. It didn’t disappoint Polli too much. Nothing could sink the cloud she was floating on.
Julianna hurried up the stairs, perturbed at herself for walking off without the overnight bag she had packed for her mother. It wasn’t something Mother had requested, or even needed, but Julianna knew her mother would abhor the hospital gown, that she would feel better with some of her own items in the sterile room. Personal pretties, her mother called them.
Shaking her head at her own absentmindedness, she grabbed the small suitcase from her bed then went back downstairs, pausing in the foyer. What else might cheer her up? Ah, that small crystal vase with the yellow silk roses. Mother loved the little knickknack, and Julianna went to the drawing room to retrieve it from the fireplace mantle, passing Polli as she did.
“Hi there!” Polli greeted her. “How’re your folks doing?”
“I haven’t made it to the hospital yet,” Julianna said, surprised by the change in Polli’s disposition. “I’d just left my friend’s house when it dawned on me that I’d forgotten Mother’s overnight bag.”
“Tell her I said to get well. And, oh, tell her not to blame herself,” she said, voice low and sympathetic.
“Blame herself?” Julianna sent her a questioning look. “Why would she blame herself?”
“Oh, you know, being the driver and all,” Polli said blithely. “The driver always feels like it’s their fault.”
“How do—” Julianna was on the verge of asking Polli how she knew who was driving, but something ordered her to stop. An intuitive voice, perhaps, or maybe the whisper of a wise guardian angel.
Wait, it advised. Just wait.
She couldn’t wait to get to the hospital, though. Of course, she wanted to see her parents, but she also wanted to see if Polli might be a link to who caused this accident, if it was truly an accident.
When she got there, Julianna winced to see her mother such a palate of bruises—green, purple, black, and dark yellow.
“Oh dear,” she whimpered from her hospital bed. “If I have to be so colorful, why couldn’t I have at least been pastels?” She tried to laugh, but the attempt made her grimace and press her fingers against her eyelids. “This headache . . . now I know how Zeus felt when Venus sprang from his head.”
Julianna suppressed a laugh. “Mother, it was Athena, and don’t be a comedian. Just rest.”
“Venus, Athena, Smathena, how does one keep their goddesses straight? Whoever came from his head, I feel like she’s making a rebirth through mine. And I know I should rest, but every time I close my eyes, I see those headlights cutting through the dark.” She shuttered. “It was petrifying.”
Julianna rose from her corner chair and went to her mother’s side. She fluffed the pillow and tucked in the covers. “I’m sorry, Mother, it must have been horrible.”
Her mother sighed. “It truly was. Never, not in a million years, will I forget those ugly yellow, blinding eyes.”
Now. Ask now, Julianna’s inner voice urged.
“Mother, who was driving? You or Father?”
“I was,” her mother said, “unless you count your father reaching over and jerking the wheel. I guess he saw those awful yellow eyes, too. I know he usually drives, especially at night, but he had a headache.”
“Have you told the police yet? The doctors? Anyone?”
“Why, no.” Her mother removed her fingers from her eyes, looking surprised. “Is it important?”
“Maybe,” Julianna answered. “The police will need to know every detail if they want to find the person who ran you off the road.”
“I won’t be much help. I didn’t see a face, I can’t even say what kind of car it was.” Now she rubbed her temples. “Oh, I wish my head would stop throbbing.”
“Try to sleep.” Julianna patted her hand. “I’m going to make a phone call.”
As her mother nodded and closed her eyes, Julianna slipped from the room and went to a phone in the lobby. Hands trembling slightly, she called the police station and asked for Officer Jackson.
“He’s off duty till tonight,” the secretary said, “but I can patch you through to his supervisor.”
“Thank you,” Julianna said, and as she waited for someone to pick up, her mind was flooded with one of the last things Officer Jackson had said to her.
The smallest detail can be invaluable, so if you think of anything that might help us . . .
Polli sat on the couch reading a movie magazine when a knock came at her apartment door.
“Yeah?” she called.
“Police,” came a voice through the door. “We need to ask you a few questions.”
She jumped up, more confused than anything. “Questions about what?” She said upon reaching the door, a cold sweat broken out on her face. Had Lightfoot come back to haunt her? Could they charge you with aiding and abetting after the criminal was dead?
“About the accident involving your boss.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped in relief as she unlatched the door and opened it. She stepped back so the detectives could enter. “I don’t know more than anyone else.”
The men entered the cluttered apartment, their eyes taking in the dirty clothes and damp towels strewn across every chair and shoes on the kitchen table. They introduced themselves as Detectives Burns and Wallen.
“Sorry about the mess,” she said, realizing as she said it that she didn’t actually care. “My roommate’s a slob.” She gathered a couple of piles of clothes and dropped them on the floor, freeing two chairs.
“Tell us what you’ve heard,” Wallen said as he sat.
“Only that they wrecked as they were about to cross the bridge at Ghost Gorge, that there might’ve been another car out there, that Mrs. Sheffield was driving . . .” she shrugged and looked at them, her expression saying that was all she knew.
The detectives glanced at each other then looked back at Polli. With an air of forced calm, Detective Burns asked, “How do you know it was the lady behind the wheel?”
“That’s what Mr. Drakeworth told me.”
“He’s the Sheffield’s son-in-law, right?”
“Yeah, he stopped by the mansion today around lunch. That’s where I work.” She smiled at the memory of his visit.
“And you say it was around noon when he came by?” the other man asked.
“Yeah, right around then.”
“And that’s when he told you Mrs. Sheffield was driving?”
She was suddenly feeling jittery, and it showed in her voice. “So, what’s the big deal about Mrs. Sheffield being the driver?”
Detective Burns ignored her question, asking one of his own. “Did Mr. Drakeworth tell you how he got that information?”
“Well, no.” She looked from one detective to the other. “I just figured the hospital told him. He called them when he got in from Atlanta. He was there for a convention, but came home as soon as he found out about his in-laws.”
Burns stroked his chin while Detective Waller pulled a small writing tablet from inside his coat. “Atlanta, huh? Do you know where he was staying?”
“Sure, the Bilt—” She stopped as Waller scribbled the information. Oh, brother, they were going to call and make sure that’s where he was. When they found out he’d skipped town early, they were bound to tell Mr. Sheffield. It would upset the older man, probably upset him a lot.
“The Biltmore?” Burns finished for her.
“Yeah,” she answered quietly, fretful for Leyton.
The detectives seemed to notice her change in demeanor. “What is it?” Waller asked.
“You’re gonna check out his whereabouts, aren’t you? You’re gonna call the Biltmore and the convention people to see if he was really there.”
“That’s normal procedure.” Waller eyed her, more with curiosity than suspicion it seemed. “Why does that bother you, M
iss Raffton?”
“It’s just that . . .” She pounded her fists against her thighs. “You’ll find out anyway, so I’ll just tell you, but please don’t say anything to Mr. Sheffield.”
Impatience showed on the detectives’ faces. Firmly, Burns advised, “Miss, you’d be real wise to tell us everything you know.”
“It’s just that Mr. Drakeworth wasn’t at the convention last night,” she blurted. “He doesn’t know that I know, but my roommate and me saw his car parked at his house.” Her hands fluttered about. “I . . . I don’t know why he came back early, you know? Bored crazy, I guess, but if Mr. Sheffield learns of it, he’ll be so mad because he was real insistent his son-in-law go to that convention.” She paused for a quick breath. “I’m just saying all of this so you won’t find out later and go to Mr. Sheffield, okay? I mean, Mr. Drakeworth is really nice, and I’d hate to see him get into trouble, okay? So you won’t say anything, please?”
As she babbled on, the detectives stood and thanked her for her time, then let themselves out.
Polli stood with her ear to the doorway, not daring to breathe. She could hear them in the hallway. “Let’s call Sheffield’s daughter—see if the son-in-law might have a motive.”
“My gut tells me he’s our boy,” Waller said, “and all because he knows the missus was driving. Until he messed up and told the girl, he was the only person who had that little bit of information.”
“Oh well, you know what they say, it’s the little things that make you or break you.”
The next second Polli was on the phone, dialing Aunt Bertha’s desk at the bank.
“Put me through to Ley—Mr. Drakeworth!” she screamed when Aunt Bertha picked up.
“Polli! That’s no way to conduct a telephone conversation,” Aunt Bertha scolded. “And why do you need to speak with Mr. Drakeworth?”
Anxious, Polli bounced up and down on her toes. “It’s important.”
“Then I’ll be happy to relay a message. He isn’t taking calls this afternoon.” Her voice turned authoritative. “Given what has befallen the family, there are many matters that need Mr. Drakeworth’s attention. He’s made it clear that he wishes to work undisturbed.”
Seeking the Shore Page 19
