by E. Joan Sims
“Andrew, you didn’t…?”
“Kill him? No I don’t have it in me to kill anyone, apparently. A right coward, I am.”
“Not a coward, I think. Not a coward at all. Maybe you just know the moral difference between right and wrong.”
“Maybe,” he mumbled. I could see he was getting tearful again.
As much as I was beginning to sympathize with young Andrew—Leonard was demanding answers.
“And maybe I just always knew she was a bit sick—sick in the head—sweet and wonderful, but messed up in a very bad way. And she did the wrong thing when she tried to make me over. Create an instrument of her vengeance—to make a weapon out of her only child to right all the wrongs done to her in the past.”
He looked up, and I could see the vast sadness in his eyes. It was one of those moments we all have when we grow up and realize our parents are not invincible—not the paragons of virtue we always believed. That his whole life had been shaped by the wishes of a woman, who while not completely insane, was very, very flawed.
Chapter Forty-One
“Let’s go inside and get more comfortable,” I suggested. “I have a feeling you have much more on your mind—much more you’d like to get off your chest.”
He suddenly looked at me suspiciously. “I’m not going to be the bloke in your next novel, am I?”
“Considered it. Dropped it,” I assured him. “I don’t really speak your language. All that ‘bloke’ and ‘dingo’ and ‘back of Bourke’—is way too complicated for me,” I added with a smile.
“And I went to uni. You should hear my cousin, Mick. Now there’s a right cobber!”
It slipped out before I thought, “I have, and you’re right—if that means he’s a nice guy.”
“You what?”
“Um, met him. The other day during the tornado,” I admitted, hoping that would be the end of it.
“Checking up on me, were you, Paisley Sterling? Trying to find out if I was fair dinkum?”
“Well, you did leave kind of a bad impression…”
“Lying about my name and all…?”
“And that’s another thing -‘Huntley Haverstock’? Where did you ever come up with that?”
“Favorite old movie of me mum’s. She always did love Joel McCrea. Said her Roger looked just like him.”
“Roger? As in Mick’s Uncle Roger?”
“Right as rain.”
Then your dad was your Aunt Janes’s…”
“Older brother.”
“So Jane and your mother…”
“Were friends…neighbors, really. They lived in a big old rooming house here in Rowan Springs. It’s gone now. Torn down for a…”
“Quickie Mart,” I filled in absently.
“You seem to know a lot,” he noted.
I waved my hand back and forth. I was thinking furiously—hoping I wouldn’t shut him up—make him turn tail and run; but I had to know the rest.
“So who was she afraid of? Who really killed Eliza and Abigail? Who was it that she so afraid of all these years?”
“Why, I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet. Their dad, of course.”
“That poor old diabetic double amputee who died in Weiuca City awhile back?”
“Poor old vicious pervert, you mean. My mum and Jane saw him abuse those little girls from day one. He even made them watch on some occasions. Quite enjoyed an audience, he did. Nasty bit of business, that.”
“Oh, my,” I gasped.
“Finally they got up some gumption and threatened to tell the authorities. But he said no one would believe a foreign woman or a woman who had the reputation Mum had gotten from living with him as a housekeeper. And he killed the girls slowly just to get the point across that he had all the power.”
“His own daughters?”
“He was a monster, no two ways about it. He deserved to die, but I didn’t have the guts to do it, Paisley. I’m a right mess, I am.” He hung his head and swiped at his eyes.
“You’ve said that before, Andrew. I believed it then, but I don’t now.”
I reached over and patted him tentatively on the shoulder. I wasn’t used to consoling anyone I wasn’t related to, but I knew a soul in torment when I saw one.
Chapter Forty-Two
He looked up after a while, his eye suspiciously bright, “You know about Millicent Grazianni, too?” he asked.
I was startled. I’d quite forgotten about Millicent with everything else going on. “What about her?”
“She saw it, too.”
“You mean the murders?”
“I mean everything. She was just a little girl then—younger than Eliza, but I’m sure they played together. It would have been strange had they not. Must have been quite disturbing to watch a playmate being used like that. It’s too disturbing for me to think about even now, and I’m a grown man. Poor little thing.”
He sniffed for a few more minutes while I waited for the rest of the story to come out.
“At first, Mum and Jane tried to get her to tell, you know? But she was too scared. They insisted her parents would believe her, if no one else. But I’m not so sure. That was a long time ago and people didn’t speak of such things. And certainly not with a child. And her dad and mum depended on their tenants for a living. James Poole was probably right in his assertion that he was above reproach. That nobody would believe a fine upstanding citizen would do such a hideous thing.”
“And so he killed his own daughters, and ruined three other young lives in the process.”
“Rightly so. Jane went gradually mental, although I think she probably had a better life than the other two. Mum grew old and bitter—full of hate and the overwhelming desire for revenge, and Madame Grazianni started using herself for a carving board before her teens.”
“I should have figured that out. Self-harmers are usually young women who are full of guilt. Horatio was right about that.”
“I like him,” added Andrew vaguely. “Nice old gent.”
I pondered Andrew’s ‘confessions’ for a moment. It was quiet in the office. The seats inside Doc White’s personal domain were deep and soft—I found myself wishing I could curl up and just sleep for a thousand years. Maybe when I woke up, the world would be a better place—free of hate and misery—somewhere warm and cozy and…
“Paisley!”
“Uh?”
“You fell asleep for a minute. Let me take you home. Now that I’ve unloaded all my troubles on you, I feel like I could sleep like a babe, too. We can always talk again tomorrow.”
“Mmfff. Couldn’t I just sleep here?” I curled up even tighter to get more comfortable. “There’s nobody to go home to…if I could just sleep until tomorrow morning early?”
Andrew laughed. “Early in this office is early indeed. Things start buzzing around four o’clock in the morning. By six you’ll swear you’ve booked a stateroom on Noah’s ark. And, if you don’t mind my asking, where is everybody?”
“I know you mean ‘where is Cassie?’ so I’ll just come right out and tell you, she’s out on a date. And Mother and Horatio are in the Bahamas—just in case you did mean ‘everybody.’”
“I fell a little bit in love with Cassie, you know?”
“Most everyone does at some point.”
“Who’s the victim this time?”
“A new guy—from out of town. William Simmons. He’s the…”
“Crickey! Could things get any worse?”
“Worse? What’s worse?”
“Cassie! Didn’t Joiner tell you to not go all stickybeak on this?” He shook his head and jumped up, pacing the floor in short economic strides. “I simply cannot believe this! You let your precious daughter go out with that likes of that dunny rat!”
“Rat?”
“Dunny rat—it’s a whole lot worse than a plain rat,” he answered absently. “Where did they go?” he demanded.
“They went to see a play…a musical, really.”
“I
n Weiuca City? Then they should be home by now. Let’s go make sure.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the warm soft nest I had made. “Come on,” he practically shouted. “Hurry!”
I pulled my hand and arm back from his grasp. “They…they were going to grab a bite afterwards—somewhere near the dam. I’m…I’m not sure exactly where.”
“Bloody hell!”
Thus time I had no trouble climbing in Andrew’s big SUV—adrenaline fueled me all the way. I could feel it thrumming in my veins as we barreled along down the Interstate towards Barkley Lake and the dam. At Andrew’s insistence, I had called Andy Joiner and told him Cassie was out with Simmons. I didn’t even have to explain a thing. Andy was all over it—barking orders and summoning his troops while I waited nervously on hold.
I also didn’t have time to ask Andrew what the hell was going on before Andy was back with instructions for me.
“Tell Alesworthy to take you home—and then stay there,” he shouted. “Do not budge! Let us take care of things this time. Okay? Do I have an ‘okay’?” he insisted.
“Yes, Andy,” I answered, meekly. “Please find Cassie and protect her from whatever is going on,” I begged.
“Of course, Paisley,” he answered soothingly. “Of course, I will. Don’t worry. And stay put!”
I turned around to Andrew and lied through my teeth. “He wants us to meet him at Barkley Dam.” I was fairly certain he had heard both ends of the conversation. Andy had been loud enough. He knew I wasn’t telling the truth, but he was also not in the mood to take me home and be late getting to the scene of the search. He stomped down on the gas pedal and we went racing into the night.
Chapter Forty-Three
I was bewildered. William had seemed innocent enough—even a bit boring, despite Cassie’s insistence that he was a bit off-putting, a bit queer.
“You’re thinking Simmons seems a too right bloke, even if he does have kangaroos loose in the paddock.”
“Someday you’ll have to teach me Australian,” I complained. “But not now. And ‘yes’ he didn’t set off in warning bells—at least in the few times I was around him.”
“Well—I know for a fact that he’s an extortionist, and Joiner suspects that he’s a murderer. How’s that for bell ringing?”
“Oh, my God! Cassie…!”
“Precisely!”
He had to slow down when we got to a hill behind two eighteen wheelers passing each other. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His nervousness frightened me.
“When did you and Andy get to be such pals?” I asked to distract him so we wouldn’t end up in a ditch.
“After that night on your front porch,” he smiled—his face turning red then white from the reflection of the blinking lights on the back of the trucks. “Your little girl sure packs a wallop.”
“Let’s hope so,” I answered fervently.
“I decided then and there I’d better make nice with the locals in case she lodged some kind of a complaint. I went to see Joiner and told him everything I know.”
“Which you still haven’t told me, by the way.”
One truck finally pulled ahead of the other and Andrew sped around and took off trying to make up for lost time.
He took a deep breath, letting out as much stress as he could. “Jane was blackmailing the Grazianni woman from the moment she married that rich foreigner guy.”
“Which much have been for the better part of thirty years!”
“Exactly. All my life.”
“My God! She was sending you the money, wasn’t she? For your education?”
“Not me, my mum. She didn’t have much luck with husbands. Her first died after a year of marriage, and Dad died when I was just a nipper. She had no insurance money to fall back on and we were in a bad way. Jane came up with the nifty little idea of ‘suggesting’ to the new bride that she could help Mum out with my upbringing in return for their silence. Jane promised she and Meg would never tell about her part in the little basement vignettes on Market Street for Millicent’s cooperation. Mum didn’t tell me about where the money to take care of us was coming from until her last illness—about six months ago.”
“But Millicent didn’t do anything,” I protested.
“Tell that to her. She felt as guilty as if she had done the dirty deeds. Deluded maybe, and certainly disturbed, but she was also afraid of Poole finding out that she might confess what she had seen and incriminate him. She was really scared. Jane promised to keep her safe.”
“But she was in no position to do that!”
“I know and you know, but poor Millicent believed it. She paid out the wazoo for almost thirty years to a crazy little old lady for ‘pretend’ protection from a real live monster.”
Chapter Forty-Four
“So where does William come into this awful business?”
“Jane was careful at first. She sent the checks to her bank and had them forward almost everything to Australia, but as her dementia got worse she had to have help. She made the mistake of trusting the wrong person.”
“William?”
“Too right! He started helping himself to a little cut of the moolah—just a bit at first, but then he got greedy and began taking more and more until my mum was left high and dry, and Jane got nothing at all—just room and board as long as she was useful.”
We were almost at the dam now. I could see the dark water ahead and the long line of bright lights across the spillway gates.
“Did Jane confront him? Surely someone would have listened to her.”
“Crazy little old lady complains about the director of the mental hospital taking money from her? I think not!”
“No,” I shook my head sadly, “I guess not.”
“But he did confront her.”
I pointed to the lights of a restaurant up ahead and Andrew pulled into the parking lot. We drove around slowly looking for Cassie or William inside the brightly lit café.
“See anything?” I asked.
“Afraid not. What’s up ahead?”
“The Pelican is the only other place I know that would still be open this late.”
He nodded slowly, and then drove back around one more time to make sure before taking off.
“So you were saying…?” I asked just to keep from screaming with nervous tension. I was getting really, really scared about what might happen to Cassie if we didn’t get to her in time.
“The money dried up. Jane just wasn’t getting any more checks. By now William had gotten nervy enough to intercept them before they even reached her, so he knew for sure. She told me that he went to her room and threatened her with all sorts of things—including kicking her out on the street. You’ve got to understand—that little room in the hospital was practically the only home Jane had known for decades. She would have done anything to keep it. She told Simmons everything—including where the money was coming from.” Andrew shook his head again in anger this time. “Damn bastard! He’s a mean sod, he is.”
“But what did he do about it? I mean if Madame Grazianni was dead…what could anyone do?”
“Oh, she wasn’t dead, yet.”
Things began to fall into place and my heart dropped. My sweet baby was out there somewhere with a suspected murderer, and I could do nothing about it.
“But…but you really think he killed the old lady?”
“He went to visit Millicent—to see why she’d quit sending the money. And I don‘t know for sure, but I’d be willing to bet the reason was that she knew Poole was dead and wasn’t afraid of him anymore. Joiner thinks William must have gotten furious when she refused to pay up and killed her in a rage with Billy’s scissors.”
Chapter Forty-Five
I was a nervous wreck by the time we pulled up in the Pelican’s parking lot. Andrew got out and went inside to inquire if Cassie had been there when we couldn’t see any sign of them outside. I would have gone, too; but I was afraid my shaking knees wouldn’t hold me u
p.
It was colder—much colder than it had been when we first left, but my shivering had nothing to do with the temperature. I was scared—terrified of what my sweet Cassie might be going through.
Logically thinking, William had no reason to harm her. He really did not have—or at least I didn’t think he had—a reason to suspect we knew what he’d been up to, so why would he want to hurt her? But then on the other hand if he had gotten any inkling that Andy had been watching him and was closing in—he could be using her as a hostage—or worse, a shield.
Even though it was against the law, most everyone around here had police scanners in their cars. I didn’t, but then I had a close relationship with Andy. I could always call him and get some idea of what was going on around town, but if William had one and it was tuned to the right frequency, he would know what was coming and where to hide.
Andrew came back outside looking grim and slightly green in the light of the big mercury lamps overhead. He opened the door and climbed in the SUV.
“The good news is that they were here—had dinner, actually, but they left about an hour ago.”
“Where…?”
“Dunno. One of the waitresses said she heard them talking about driving over the dam and looking at the lights. So I guess we head that way.”
“Which dam?”
“What do you mean ‘which’ dam? There’s only one, right?”
“No! No. There’s two—Kentucky Lake and Barkley Lake.”
“Bloody oath!” he cursed. “Which one’s closer?”
“Kentucky. Not very far from here at all.”
Andrew’s tires kicked up about half a bucket of gravel as he took off like a jack rabbit. He swung out to the highway and turned left, flinging me against the car door. In response, I tightened up my seat belt and hung on for dear life. Andrew was on a mission to rescue Cassie, and I was with him all the way.
“Thanks for not holding a grudge.”
He glanced quickly at me and smothered a nervous laugh. “Too right! She does think I’m a piker, doesn’t she!”
