Secrets of the Last Castle

by A. Rose Mathieu

  “Why are you smiling?” Grace asked with suspicion.

  “I can wait.”

  * * *

  Grace sat at her desk twisting a pencil in her hand, staring at her computer. She had reluctantly left Elizabeth that morning in the care of Michael, who arrived shortly after their talk. She found it hard to relinquish Elizabeth’s care, even if it was to her best friend. She couldn’t shake the thought that she could have lost her, and Elizabeth would have never known how she felt.

  The next best thing she could think to do was work on the godforsaken case. At this point, she didn’t care if it resulted in a conviction. She just wanted it over. She had no way of knowing for certain if Elizabeth’s attack was related, but given that the attacker passed over her wallet and demanded papers, she had a hard time believing that it was a random act of violence.

  The problem was that she had no idea what the attacker was looking for, and apparently, neither did Elizabeth. With no new information on the current murder case, Grace turned her attention to the 1963 case. She began investigating Josiah Webb after her visit to the White Horse Plantation and found that he was a very unlikeable man with a sordid past. She had every reason to believe Elizabeth’s theory that the woman was Webb’s daughter, but what did she know then that nearly got her killed? Better yet, what did she know now that did get her killed?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elizabeth sat at her desk thumbing through papers. It felt like it had been weeks since the attack, but it had only been two days. She had spent the day before curled on her couch with a parade of visitors, each bringing food. It seemed a babysitting schedule had been created, and by the evening, she craved solitude. Her mother had been one of her caretakers, and Elizabeth waited on edge for her mother to mention the intimate scene that she had witnessed between her and Grace, but she never brought it up. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she was in denial or waiting until Elizabeth was in better shape before she pounced on the subject. Either way, Elizabeth decided she would let her mother take the lead on broaching the subject.

  Elizabeth turned her thoughts to Grace, something she had done frequently over the last twenty-four hours. She hadn’t seen her since she left her house the day before, but she had checked in several times. Their conversations were warm, and it was clear Grace was full of concern, but there were no personal discussions like in her bedroom.

  “You really shouldn’t be here,” Amy said, causing Elizabeth to look up. She hadn’t heard her come in.

  “I can’t sit around my house another day. I’ll go stir-crazy.”

  Amy took the seat across from her. “You really scared us.”

  “I know and I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, just be careful. Whoever it was is still out there.”

  “I know. I’ll be careful.”

  “You better,” Amy said in a motherly tone and rose to head back out the door.

  “Amy.” Elizabeth called her back. “Thank you for calling Grace.”

  “She would’ve never forgiven me if I hadn’t.”

  “Who wouldn’t forgive you?” Rich asked from the doorway. “Wow, look at that bruise.”

  Elizabeth didn’t answer the question and instead motioned him to come in. Amy continued out of the office, and he took her vacant seat.

  “I just came by to see how you’re doing. Rosa told me what happened.”

  Rosa, huh. She had wondered how those two were faring, and she was happy to learn that there was something there.

  “So did he get the papers?”

  Elizabeth stared at him.

  “Rosa said he wanted the papers,” he clarified.

  “What papers?” she asked.

  “I assume it’s the papers that you found hidden at the plantation that you showed me. What other papers are there?”

  Elizabeth had completely forgotten about them and dismissed them when they couldn’t be translated.

  “You still have them?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. The clinic was broken into and everything was thrown around and…Oh my God, that’s what he was looking for in the clinic.” She stood up. “Help me out here.” She began tipping BD on its side, and Rich helped her lower the chair to the ground. She unfastened the seat cushion from underneath that her mom had installed and pulled it off. Below the cushion and on top of BD’s worn, cracked leather seat, sat a manila folder. It seemed her mom’s seat cushion offered more than comfort, but also a great hiding place for documents. She had Rich to thank for the documents being safe. She only hid them because of his insistence that she take better care of them and when she found them moved by the workers after they did some repairs in her office, she found them a more secure place. She looked at Rich. “It’s all here.” She spread the pages across her desk. Although she had no greater insight as to their meaning, she had a new appreciation for them.

  “What’s the name and address of your friend that works for that museum? I think I want to pay him a visit. He might not be able to read it, but maybe he can give us something to work with.”

  After passing over the information, Rich became distracted by Rosa, who made her entrance to see if Elizabeth needed anything. She never did that, so Elizabeth knew it was a ploy to get Rich’s attention. As quickly as Rich entered, he left with Rosa close at his side, which made Elizabeth smile.

  She continued to entertain a string of visitors in her office, making it impossible to get any real work done, not that she really could have. Her mind was fully distracted by the revelation that the pages she found at the plantation were the cause of the clinic break-in and her attack. She knew that somehow these would provide the missing link, if only she could understand them. She debated going to meet Rich’s friend alone, but knew that this would upset Grace. She had to admit to herself that she was still shaken knowing that whoever wanted these papers was still out there. So she called Grace and sat waiting for her, enjoying the brief moment of silence, which proved to be short-lived.

  “So what’s with the papers?” Danny asked as he walked in and scooped a handful of Skittles from the bowl on her desk.

  “Help yourself.”

  He shoved them in his mouth. “Than—” Before Danny could finish the word, a Skittle flew out of his overpacked mouth and hit her on the forehead and plopped on her desk.

  “Danny, that is just gross.”

  Unfazed, Danny picked up the errant Skittle and popped it back in his mouth.

  Elizabeth had to turn and look out the window at the row of trash cans in the alley, which she found more appealing than watching him chew. She turned back around when the lip-smacking quieted down. “The papers that the guy was looking for—”

  “How are you feeling today?” Camille interrupted as she entered and took the seat next to him.

  That was a question Elizabeth wouldn’t mind not hearing again for a while. After assuring her that she was doing much better, she pulled out the papers. “This is what the guy was looking for.” They both took a turn reviewing the pages and debated what some of the words meant, but neither could provide any additional insight. It didn’t take long before Danny lost interest and went back to his task of helping Amy file documents.

  “I’m going with Grace to meet one of Rich’s friends, who may be able to help,” Elizabeth said to Camille once Danny left.

  Camille approached her and leaned against the side of her desk so their legs were touching. “You can’t go with her,” she said sharply, surprising Elizabeth. “She is trying to help convict my brother. You can’t trust her.”

  A tap on her door drew their attention, and Elizabeth offered a tight smile at Grace, who stood in the doorway. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she heard Camille’s comment. She motioned her in, and Grace looked between them before she sat in the guest chair.

  “Are these the papers?” she asked.

  Elizabeth scooped them up and handed them to her, and Grace leaned back and closely reviewed them. She held them up to the light and turned them around
, leaving no inch uninspected.

  “Where did you get these?”

  “From the plantation, in that secret room. They were hidden in the wall.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about them earlier?” Grace’s voice was curt.

  “I didn’t know that they were relevant, and you can’t read the writing.” She knew it wasn’t really an excuse, and Grace had every right to be mad.

  “You tampered with what could be important evidence.”

  “I didn’t tamper with anything. I didn’t do anything to them.”

  “The jury won’t know that.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re hoping for?” Camille interjected.

  Grace didn’t respond to her and instead stood up and looked at Elizabeth. “I’m parked outside. Come out when you’re ready.” She picked up the empty manila folder on Elizabeth’s desk and placed the pages inside.

  “I’m going with you,” Camille said.

  “No, you’re not,” Grace responded as she walked out.

  Grace left the clinic without making eye contact with anyone and yanked open her car door. She sat seething in the driver’s seat with the manila folder resting in her lap. She wasn’t sure what upset her more—the close proximity of Elizabeth and Camille or the fact that Elizabeth withheld the papers that she found from her.

  When Elizabeth opened the door and sat, Grace didn’t look at her and instead started the engine. She waited until Elizabeth was seat belted and then pulled out.

  “Grace—”

  “I don’t want to talk right now. Can we just ride in silence?”

  The silence lasted less than a minute.

  “Grace, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the papers before. I know I should’ve, but I don’t know… It’s just so complicated.” Elizabeth let out a frustrated squeak, which Grace found endearing, but wouldn’t admit it.

  “I shared what I knew with you, Elizabeth.”

  “Grace, I’m sorry.”

  “What’s the address?” Elizabeth looked at her, confused, and Grace clarified, speaking slowly. “The address where we’re going.”

  She could tell that this annoyed her, but instead of bantering back, Elizabeth pulled out a slip of paper from her bag and read it off. The remainder of the drive was in silence.

  When they pulled into the museum parking lot, Grace opened her door and began walking ahead. She could hear Elizabeth’s heels clicking on the ground as she tried to catch up. She hesitated at the front door and held it open, allowing Elizabeth to pass in front of her. Elizabeth approached a woman sitting at an information desk and asked to speak to Dr. Bob Beadle. Grace looked at her sideways wondering if she had just made the name up.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Grace answered and pulled out her badge.

  As the woman dialed Dr. Beadle, Grace stepped away to observe some of the artifacts. There were Confederate uniforms and weapons lining a wall in glass cases. She was conscious that Elizabeth was lingering close by. As upset as she was, she wasn’t going to let her out of her sight. The sound of footsteps on the tile floor drew her attention to a middle-aged man quickly approaching. He had a round face and small, closely set eyes. His name definitely fit.

  “I’m Dr. Beadle. How may I help you?”

  To Grace’s surprise, Elizabeth stayed quiet and looked to Grace to answer his question. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  He escorted them off to a side room with several photographs lining the walls with a row of benches going down the middle. He sat on the middle bench, and she sat next to him. Elizabeth sat next to her but gave her some space.

  “I need you to look at some documents and tell me what you can about them.” She pulled out the pages and handed them over. He took them, and she noted a slight tremor in his hand as he read them. After flipping through each page, he looked at her.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t read these. If you want to leave them with me perhaps I can spend some more time with them and even test their authenticity.”

  Grace looked to Elizabeth to get her thoughts, and she noted that Elizabeth was staring at the man’s hand that was twitching.

  “Elizabeth, are you—”

  “It was you!” Elizabeth stood and squared off with him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man stood and tried to put some space between Elizabeth and himself.

  She pointed to the side of his face near his ear, where a slight bruise showed. “That’s where I hit you.”

  Grace stood, grabbed him by the front collar of his shirt, and threw him to the ground. She dug her knee into his chest as he cried for mercy. “Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Grace looked to her. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth croaked out, but she didn’t need to hear the answer. The look in Elizabeth’s eyes, a mix of anger and fear, told her all she needed to know.

  Grace roughly pulled him up and twisted his arm behind his back and cuffed him. She began reciting the Miranda rights as she marched him to the door. Elizabeth picked up the folder and the scattered papers that fell from his hand during the scuffle and caught up to her.

  Grace pushed him into the back seat of her car and called for police backup to transfer him into custody. She didn’t want him riding in the same car as Elizabeth. When the black and white police car drove off with him securely seated in the back, Grace went in search of Elizabeth and found her sitting on the front steps of the museum.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as she sat next to her.

  Elizabeth leaned into her, and she put her arm tightly around Elizabeth’s shoulder. She was slightly conscious that some might see her but knew that Elizabeth needed her at that moment. She kissed the side of her head and held on until Elizabeth was ready.

  When Elizabeth pulled away, she looked at Grace and tapped the folder on her lap. “He knows exactly what these papers are and what they say.”

  Grace agreed. He knew the significance of the documents, which is why he was so desperate for them.

  * * *

  Elizabeth sat in the chair next to Grace’s desk, waiting for Grace, who was called into her sergeant’s office. She had been gone for over fifteen minutes, and she was feeling anxious for her return. When she saw her reemerge, she knew something was wrong by the look on Grace’s face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You will have to go with Detective Martinez. He will take your statement.”

  “But why? I want to stay with you.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t. You’re defending the Francis case, and given that I am the lead detective on that case, my sergeant doesn’t believe that I should be involved in this investigation.”

  Elizabeth could tell that Grace was shaken, and she didn’t want to make it any harder on her, so she went with the other detective without another word. She followed the bulky man to a small room, and they sat on opposite sides of a table. She explained the attack again in detail and how she recognized the man as her attacker. It was the twitch in his hand that drew her attention. It was distinctive. The detective looked skeptical, but she knew the moment she saw the nervous twitching and then the voice. The bruising on the side of his face only helped confirm the identity.

  “So what’s next?” she asked after he finished taking notes.

  “Well, I’ll send this to the DA’s office, but without a positive facial identification, any half decent defense attorney will produce a dozen witnesses placing him on the other side of town when the attack occurred. You should know how that works.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Elizabeth nervously paced next to her car. “Where is he?”

  “Relax. It’s only three thirty. He’s probably a little lost. This place is not that easy to find,” Jack said in her earpiece.

  After putting some distance between herself and the arrest of Bob Beadle, she knew that Detective Martinez’s assessment of the case was true. Beadl
e would likely walk based on the current evidence, Elizabeth’s identification of his nervous twitch, even though she was certain beyond any doubt. Although initially upset to learn that he posted bail only twenty-four hours after his arrest, she began to see it as an opportunity to not only strengthen the case against him, but to learn more information about the cryptic pages that he so desperately wanted.

  With the help of Jack, they devised a plan to meet Beadle at the White Horse Plantation to discuss a possible trade of the documents in exchange for information. She knew Beadle would be wary of any contact with her, but she also banked on the fact that he was desperate for the documents. He hung up on her on the first call as soon as she introduced herself. On the second call, she blurted out, “There are more pages,” before he could hang up and that hooked him. It was a lie of course, but he didn’t know that. It was also a lie that she could give him the original documents because she no longer had them. Grace confiscated them. All she had to work with were copies.

  When Beadle stayed on the line the second time to listen to her plan, she advised him that she found the documents at the White Horse Plantation and told him that she would personally show him where he could find more. It seemed too much for him to pass up, and he accepted her offer with the caveat that she came alone, another lie. He warned that if he sensed any foul play, he would not only fail to show, but report her to the police for harassing him, a chance she was willing to take.

  Compliments of Jack, Elizabeth was wired and the entire conversation would be recorded. It seemed Jack had saved some of his toys from his detective days. As Jack sat in his car covertly parked in the tangle of trees and brush off the entrance drive, Danny was hiding in the house. His sole purpose was to act as her protector. Elizabeth didn’t want to bring him, but he refused to be left behind once he overheard Elizabeth on the phone with Jack, and he threatened to tell her mother if he couldn’t come.