by A. L. Duncan
“So, what do you suggest? We wait until he successfully puts a bullet in my head?”
Dr. Neale scowled. “While I do agree that something should be done, Denys is in a very precarious state of mind. To approach him on the matter of Miriam might only send him over the edge. And that could lead to fatal circumstances for the both of you, I’m afraid.”
“Do I have another choice?”
“Perhaps you do.” Dr. Neale pulled up a chair and thumbed through her address box. “If anybody was likely to lend any credence to this information, it would be Chief Inspector Fricky.”
“Fricky? You mean the guy mentioned in that article, the one who investigated the case?”
“Indeed it is. Oh, mind you, he’s retired now. Has been for quite some time.”
“Still alive, eh?”
Dr. Neale nodded. “In his mid-seventies, I should think.” She pulled a card from the pack and scribbled the information on a piece of paper. “And still very spry, too. He’s amazing. He could remember what he had for breakfast last November third, if one cared to ask him.”
“Geez, I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast yesterday.” Janie waited as the doctor replaced the card in its catalog. “A client, too?”
A slight grin lifted the corners of the doctor’s mouth. “Actually, he’s been a consultant on a few cases for me.” She handed Janie the slip of paper. “You’ll find him at the local tavern on Thursday nights. Can’t miss him. He’s the entertainment.”
THE SCARLET LION was a roomy tavern that used to be a Coaching Inn. With such historic charm one could feel the weight of its age. It undoubtedly looked much like it had when it was first built nearly five hundred years earlier. The acoustics were less than impressive, raising laughs, hoots, and heckles to an amplified degree. An old man played an Irish jig on his fiddle and kept the audience amused with his jokes. He was a short fellow, pudgy, and he didn’t look a day over sixty. Janie and Ilene sat not far from the door, waiting for their ale.
“Something tells me we didn’t come here just for a leisure drink,” Ilene said, accepting her mug from the server.
Janie took her own ale and set it on the table in front of her. “What makes you say that?”
“The last little ‘get away’ you planned took us to Istanbul to recover a list of prominent Jewish scientists.”
Janie feigned surprise as she sipped the amber stock under its foamy head. “Mmm. Nutty.” Meeting Ilene’s impatient glare, she added, “Okay. You’re right. We’re not here for the brew. Actually, we’re here for the entertainment.”
Ilene shot a glance at the old man playing his fiddle. “Old Fricky?”
“You know him?”
“Heavens, yes. Everyone knows Old Fricky. He’s been around for ages. Used to be at Scotland Yard or something.” Ilene leaned over the table with a questioning look. “Does this have anything to do with your visit with my dear cousin?”
Janie grinned. “If this man has the photographic memory Dr. Neale say he does, perhaps he will be able to provide some of the details I haven’t been able to visualize. That could put a few more pieces of the puzzle together for all parties concerned.”
“So, what exactly did you see?”
“Oh. Uh...well, it’s complicated.” Janie touched a server’s sleeve as the woman walked by. “Excuse me, but could you ask Mr. Fricky to join us?”
“You’re not going to bring up my mother’s death,” Ilene said bitterly.
Janie hesitated, and then continued with determination. “Your mother’s death was shadowed in mystery and has remained so for over thirty years. What I saw while under hypnosis was quite revealing. And between you and me, with everything that’s been happening lately, I’m not entirely sure I would discount the version of events that I saw.”
“So, I ask again, what, exactly, did you see?”
Fricky made his way over to the women’s table, and Janie was able to set aside Ilene’s question and turn her attention to him.
He greeted Ilene jovially, clasping her dainty hand between his stubby ones. “My dear Mrs. Eldridge. How wonderful to see you again. The Major’s finally sharing you with the world again, is he?” he added with a wink and a cackle.
“Hello, Fricky,” Ilene replied warmly. Gesturing to Janie, “May I introduce you to Carolyn Vaughn?”
Old Fricky turned about with a smile, hand outstretched. “How do you...” His smile melted into shock, and he nervously withdrew his hand. “Good heavens.” After taking a moment to regain his composure, he forced a smile. “Do forgive me, Miss Vaughn, I um...hmm. Have you a relative in England?”
“Nope.”
“It’s just that you look so very much like someone....ah...well, it was a very, very long time ago.”
Janie raised an eyebrow. “May I have a moment of your time?”
STREET LAMPS LIGHTED the little harbor, their reflection trickling over the ebb and flow of water like a candle to stained glass. A chill in the air turned their breath into visible vapors that dissipated toward the great canopy of stars above.
Solemn-faced, Fricky walked along the quay between the two women, intrigued by the resurrection of Miriam Vanderholt’s long ago case. “Good God, has it really been over thirty years ago?”
Janie smiled. “I’m told you have a good memory.”
“Like a steel trap, I do.” His exuberance waned. “Though I daresay that the hinges are a bit overtaken by surface rust.”
“The case was never solved, was it?”
“Um...no,” he murmured, lips pursed. He raised a sheepish eye. “One of Scotland Yard’s rare moments of embarrassment. Without too much defensiveness, I must acknowledge it was a case that was not entirely mine. I was merely a consultant. Had I been the lead investigator, the case would surely have been solved. Politics aside, the fact remains that the case is still unsolved.”
“You seem pretty convinced of your convictions, Fricky. I take it you didn’t agree with the Yard that the probable murderer was a family friend who disappeared after the fact?”
Fricky stopped, impressed. “I see you’ve done your homework, Miss Vaughn.”
Ilene also stopped, but to stare at Janie with pointed finger. “Family friend?”
Janie gave a slight nod, knowing she was confirming that she was the family friend in the past life. “What if I told you my likeness to this woman, this family friend, is more than coincidence?”
“Assuming she’s not a member of your family, I’d be inclined to question the connection, though it is a curious coincidence.”
Janie lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, then pulled Dr. Neale’s calling card from her coat pocket. “We have a mutual acquaintance, you and I.”
Fricky reached for the card, recognizing it immediately. “Ah, Dr. Neale.”
“She mentioned you’d be willing to share your beliefs on the subject of reincarnation.”
“Reincarnation? Good heavens.” Fricky puffed his cheeks and sighed. “Now that’s a startling claim. Used to be the dead would simply become ghosts, haunting streets, residences, and taverns, unsettled with their life results. Now, they’re getting clever. Imagine having the undaunted strength of will to carry on into another life to finish what they started in the last. How absolutely brilliant.”
“It’s a little uncomfortable at this end,” Janie interjected dryly.
“Are you getting the feeling that you’ve been there before?”
“Mostly when I am in the manor.”
“Dreams, waking images?”
“Many.” Uneasy with Ilene’s presence, Janie hesitated before adding, “Most of the evidence is in my head. However I do have a couple of solid leads if you want to help Scotland Yard rebound from a thirty-year embarrassment.”
Ilene was astonished. “Reopen the case?”
Janie looked into her stricken face. “The tension is getting quite thick at Aria Manor, Ilene.”
“Ran into Dr. Collier at Market the other day and was informed of
your father’s condition,” Fricky interjected. “Very strange circumstances, I must admit.”
Wide-eyed and pale, Ilene gasped. “You’re not suggesting my father had something to do with the murder?”
“You have to admit he’s not been himself lately,” said Janie.
“It’s his pain,” Ilene protested. “He’s been ill.”
Fricky nodded. “Guilt is a disease that can eat away at the soul if it is kept buried long enough.”
“But Father wasn’t even at the house that night!”
Janie’s throat tightened. “Ilene, he was there. I saw him.”
Ilene’s head was spinning. She slowly backed away. “No...no. I don’t believe you. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Janie reached out for her. “I’m sorry. I know this is difficult for you. I’m still trying to understand it myself...”
Ilene scowled in anger and wriggled away from Janie. “Take your hand off me.”
“Ilene—”
“I’ll hear no more of it. I won’t let you destroy my father’s reputation over some damned hallucinations you’re having.” Janie started to speak but Ilene shrank away from her. “Don’t.”
Fricky grasped Janie’s sleeve. “Let her go, Miss Vaughn.”
Janie watched until Ilene’s figure disappeared in the fog. “She doesn’t understand.”
“A hurting heart will only feel what it wants to feel, and tearful eyes will see only what they want to see, even if the spirit knows the truth when it hears it.”
Janie pulled away from him. “There’s some impulse that’s compelling me to do this, Fricky. Something I can’t explain beyond this reality.”
“And no doubt you’ve enough visions to carry you forward.”
“I saw him. I saw Denys with the rifle in his hand. Smoke was still coming out of the barrel.” Janie tossed the cigarette butt off the dock and shoved her hands into her trouser pockets.
Fricky stepped up alongside Janie and stared out to sea, inhaling deeply. “Ilene is right about one thing. Over the past thirty years, her father has genuinely earned the honor he is accorded. He had one hell of a distinguished career serving with His Majesty’s forces. If we tramp his name in the muck without proper evidence, we could lose as much as he does. He has very powerful allies.”
Janie understood his implication. “You want something more substantial than what I could have read from any news clipping or police report.”
“I need a damn good reason to believe you’re not just another pretty face, even if it is a familiar face to someone else’s treacherous past.”
She considered for a long moment before she pulled a hand from her pocket and held it out to him. “How about something that baffles even the least impressionable mind?” Janie replied with confidence. As Fricky accepted the jewelry, she added, “Found it in the grasp of a skeleton in a cave not far from Aria Manor. The Major has the matching cufflink.”
Fricky made a quick study of her body language. She appeared quite sincere. “He still has it?”
Janie nodded. “Hidden in the top drawer of the desk in his library. Upstairs in his bedroom, he has the old tux encased in glass. The buttons on the shirt match the cufflinks. It’s definitely his.”
Fricky eyed the gold and sapphire cufflink. The post light above them gleamed off the gold. He drew a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. “You have a compelling argument that fits in with a belief I’ve held for a very long time. And, you have evidence that doesn’t involve imagination or visions of the past. Although this is great work, it isn’t enough to prove that the Major is the murderer, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, but is it enough to re-open the case?”
“Skeleton, you say?”
“The family claims it’s an eighteenth-century pirate. I have a bad feeling it’s not as old as that.”
Clicking his tongue, he stared at the cufflink. “If it is as you say, you hold a very dangerous secret, Miss Vaughn.”
She looked at him squarely. “Then you believe me?”
“I must confess, Dr. Neale contacted me about you, so of course I was expecting your visit. However, I was not expecting such an eerie likeness to this other woman, though the doctor described you over the wire.”
“You’re not the first person I’ve caught off guard.”
Fricky cackled. “Oh how I would liked to have seen the Major’s face when he laid eyes on you for the first time.” He pulled a small envelope from his breast pocket and dropped the cufflink into it, then tucked it back in his pocket. “I have to say, Miss Vaughn, you have a knack for obtaining a person’s undivided attention.”
Janie smiled. “Then it’s a case?”
Fricky held out his hand. “I’ll see what I can do on my end.” Taking her hand in his, he added, “You do what you can from yours, what? And keep the enemy at bay a little longer. Appease him for now. In the meantime, I want you to log any specific detail you notice about anything that goes on at Aria Manor. A mind and a past such as the Major’s are like a ticking time bomb. You’d best be on your guard.”
Chapter Thirteen
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A COLD, SLEETING rain fell all that night and the next day. A fog had stood vigil, distorting the lay of the land by its breath and held the old house pressed against the sea’s din. Aria Manor stood as nobly as it had for over two hundred years, eyeing the water as a captain from the wheel of his ship, staunchly stubborn in its reserve, and proud.
Deliberately disregarding Gil’s weather prediction, Janie had been chopping wood for almost two hours. As the axe rose and fell, she thought about the letter she had sent off to Frank in New York.
Dear Frank,
Can you believe I miss the snow? Anything’s got to be better than this damned cold sleet. They’ve had enough rain here already to fill the reservoirs behind two Hoover Dams. Answer to your question: no, I am not homesick. With people trying to kill me over here, I feel right at home. At least Owney Madden and his boys are predictable, in a vile sort of way. These folks are just plain mental. Can’t tell you everything right now. Long story. Will explain later.
Keep warm. Love to all.
At the sound of her name being called, she paused in mid-stroke and turned around. Ilene was a safe distance away, outfitted with umbrella, coat and galoshes. Janie finished splitting the quarter piece.
Ilene raised her voice above the pelting droplets. “Anna told me I’d find you here.”
Janie acknowledged her with a brief glance before lifting the axe and slicing through another quarter.
Ilene flinched at the sound of splitting timber as she peered at the dense pile of firewood in astonishment. “We need to talk, I think,” she said. Janie’s only reply was a powerful slice through another quarter. “Look, Carolyn, I need...I want to apologize.”
Janie stopped chopping and squinted through streaks of rain. Ilene’s face was blurry. Janie couldn’t see well enough to see Ilene’s expression, but the voice sounded sincere.
“For what?” she asked.
“For leaving you with Old Fricky, and for making you walk home. I hadn’t thought of asking Michael to return for you.”
Janie frowned as she swung the axe again.
“There’s so much I don’t understand,” Ilene continued. “So much to think about. It’s frustrating...this talk about reincarnation.”
“Frustrating?” Janie shouted. “Try living with it in your head every day!”
“Yes, well. I can’t do anything about that.”
“And since I stepped on this God-forsaken marsh, there’s been one hell of a lot of crap to put up with!”
“I know, Carolyn. It was selfish of me. I’m sorry. Please, please forgive me. I’m sorry for leaving you to walk in this downpour.”
After a moment, Janie let out a sigh and dropped the axe to her side, her anger spent. Even in her state of total frustration, she couldn’t take it out on the woman who held her heart.
Ilene didn’t move. “We need to talk about this.”
Janie eyed the floral dress and trench coat. “You didn’t get all dressed up just to stand in the rain, did you?”
Ilene tilted her head and shrugged. “Actually, it seems Oliver has drunk all the sherry and Anna needs some for her cooking. I need to make a trip into town and I was hoping you’d drive me.”
Janie set another quarter on the stump. “Why not get Michael to take you?”
“I gave him the day off.”
“What’s wrong with Bartley?”
“Bartley?” Ilene scoffed at the idea. “He has a phobia of anything that goes faster than he can pedal.”
Janie said with exasperation, “Did you ask Gil?”
“Oh, God no.” Ilene pulled her coat tighter around her as Gil approached. “He only bathes on Saturdays. The man will surely smell the motorcar up,” she said in a soft voice.
“Get out of the rain,” Gil growled at Janie.
Janie turned to him defiantly. “Maybe I’m not done working out my frustrations just yet, Scotty.”
“I don’t give a damn about you wreaking vengeance on the wood, woman! I don’t want my axe to rust!”
It was his responsibility to keep the tools sharpened. She knew his request should not be discounted. His simple regard for the axe and professed disregard for her welfare took the fight out of Janie. She suddenly felt tired as she eyed the axe.
“Oh,” Janie murmured. “Well, I can’t feel my arms anymore, anyway.”
Gil snatched the axe from her and shook his head, waiting until she turned and started toward the carriage house. Ilene turned and followed.
