Unintended Detour: A Christian Suspense Novel (The Unintended Series Book 3)

by D. L. Wood

  Lilyanne Caudle was petite, standing five feet tall at most, and looked very polished in her crew neck sweater, slacks, and flats with a gold medallion on the toe. She had a full head of white hair ending just below her chin, tamed but a bit wiry, as if she’d run a brush through it, but the hair wasn’t having it. Bangs framed her forehead, covering the wrinkles that must have been hidden beneath, if the rest of her face was any indication. Deep-set crow’s feet and a divot between her brows made it look like she was perpetually squinting.

  “Come into the sitting room,” she said, ushering Chloe into the house and closing the door behind her. Chloe slid past her while the woman redid every lock—six by Chloe’s count—before turning back to her. “Can’t be too careful these days.” She tapped one of the locks. “My son put these in for me.” She pointed toward the living room entryway to the left. “I’ve got tea set up in there for us.”

  “Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Chloe said, a bit surprised the woman had gone to the trouble, given her reluctance to meet. She followed Mrs. Caudle into the large living room just off the foyer.

  A teapot and two cups and saucers in a blue pheasant pattern were laid out on a coffee table centered in front of a green velvet Chesterfield couch. On the wall above the couch, vintage bone china plates from some other pattern hung in a rainbow-like semi-circle. Flowered wallpaper covered every square inch of the walls, while the floor was buried under thick brown shag carpet. Two damask-covered wingback chairs faced the couch. Mrs. Caudle shuffled to the couch, and indicated that Chloe should take one of the wingbacks, which she did.

  “Thank you so much for meeting with me, Mrs. Caudle I can’t tell you—”

  “How do you take it?”

  Chloe jerked her head slightly. “Sorry, what?”

  “Your tea. How do you take it?” Mrs. Caudle asked, apparently oblivious to having interrupted Chloe.

  “Oh, sorry. Uh…light milk, one sugar.”

  Mrs. Caudle selected a teacup, poured the tea, added the milk and sugar, and stretched a bony arm to Chloe. “So,” Mrs. Caudle started as she prepared her own cup of tea, “what exactly do you want to ask me? More about that awful estate, I imagine?”

  Chloe sipped the tea, replaced the cup in its saucer, and set it on the glass coffee table with a soft clink. “I’m preparing the historical exhibit at the resort…at the estate, that is. The woman handling it before had to leave for health reasons, so I’m trying to get it finished before the grand opening.”

  “I heard that’s happening on New Year’s Eve. They’re having a ball.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Caudle’s nose wrinkled. “A bit distasteful, don’t you think? Given what happened there on New Year’s Eve all those years ago?”

  “I…think it’s a fresh start. A way to reclaim the place.”

  “I’m not sure anything can be done to make that place right. It’s been the source of so much heartache. I suppose you’ve heard the stories about the deaths there.”

  “I have.”

  “And now, that Mr. Lewis I read about in the paper. It’s just awful.”

  “We’re hoping the exhibit will highlight the history of the place, honor your family, and pay homage to your aunt.”

  “You mean you’re going to play up that awful night and the”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“treasure legend.”

  “We aren’t playing it up. The exhibit does deal with what happened the night of the robbery and your aunt’s death, but it does it tastefully. It talks about the kind of person Lily Stone was, how she was committed to helping the impoverished in the city. It also covers Harold Stone’s incredible journey from penniless orphan to railroad magnate, a self-made man who was the force behind Stonehall Estate.”

  “He was a force all right,” Mrs. Caudle said, her words sharp. “Destroyed my mother’s family. But that’s no secret.”

  “I’m familiar with what happened after Lily Stone died and the hard times that befell the family.”

  “My grandfather befell the family, Mrs. Bartholomew, just like I told the woman before you…Mrs. Holly—”

  “Hollis, yes. She said you were kind enough to talk to her, but that you felt you didn’t have much to share. That you didn’t know much about what happened.”

  “Mrs. Hollis was very focused on the treasure. It was a bit off-putting. But still, I talked to her. Told her the truth. My mother wasn’t exactly forthcoming about the whole thing. She didn’t like to talk about it, so I only got bits and pieces. I’m afraid I can’t help you much beyond what you’ll read in whatever reports you’ve gathered about it.”

  “I understand. But if you’re open to it, I’d like to ask just a few more questions. I want to make the exhibit as tasteful and accurate as possible. I think you might be able to help me with that.”

  Mrs. Caudle leaned back into the couch, balancing her teacup on her lap. “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “I know you said it wasn’t much, but what bits and pieces did your mother share? I realize she was only six when it happened, but I wondered—”

  “My mother was devastated by that night. Her whole world was ripped apart. She adored Lily, as did everyone apparently, and when she lost her…You know she actually saw her get shot? Saw her bleed to death on the floor. You don’t forget something like that, even if you’re only six years old.” The woman’s prim demeanor took on a harsh quality.

  “No, I don’t imagine you would. Did she ever tell you what she remembered about it?”

  “She didn’t. Not in the way you’re thinking. Sometimes, when it was Lily’s birthday, or when Mother had a little too much to drink and was reminiscing, she would walk me through it. But in general, she hated thinking about it. About losing her sister. About what that pain did to her mother. I mean, the woman completely neglected my mother after that. All she could focus on was the loss of Lily. It was like she forgot she even had another daughter. When she died, and it was just my mother and her father left, it didn’t get better.”

  “That must have been so hard for her.”

  “She couldn’t stand that place. In fact, I haven’t been near it since I was about ten years old. That was the last time Mother drove up to it. It was Lily’s birthday, and she was feeling particularly sentimental.” She paused and watched Chloe carefully, then changed the subject. “Tell me about the exhibit. Have you used the items I provided?”

  “The portrait of the family taken on the night of the robbery hangs over the grand staircase. All the family photos, both from that night and before, will be displayed, as well as the silver and serving pieces and other vintage articles. I understand you were extremely gracious in selling them to the resort.”

  “I didn’t have a need for them. My mother couldn’t stand the things. I found them boxed up in her attic when she passed. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them, but I didn’t care to have them either. Any of the other items you’ve got there—the ones that were from the original house—must have been acquired from local collectors. Most of what the Stones owned was sold off when my grandfather declared bankruptcy. Those pieces have been showing up for decades as collectibles throughout the county. My guess is that your resort either found the items in local antique shops or used replicas.”

  “That’s what I understand.”

  “After I sold what I had to them, I thought that would be the end of it. I didn’t mind getting rid of the stuff, but I wasn’t interested in rehashing my family history.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “But I wasn’t that lucky, because here you sit.”

  Chloe sucked in a breath. She had more to tell Mrs. Caudle, and she was pretty certain she wasn’t going to like it given her clear feelings on the family estate in general. But it was important to her that Mrs. Caudle understand exactly what they were planning. She didn’t want the woman to be surprised if she ever visited the estate and saw the exhibit for herself. In particular, Chloe didn’t want her caught off guard about there b
eing a Will Rader aspect to it. As a member of the family, Mrs. Caudle deserved that much.

  Chloe pasted on what she hoped looked like a genuine smile. “One of the reasons I wanted to see you was that I felt you, of all people, should be aware of what the exhibit is going to focus on. In addition to featuring your family, we are conducting research into Will Rader, the intruder that night.” Chloe held her hands out in front of her as if staving off an argument. “We aren’t planning on glorifying him by any means, but we are digging into his past, as much as we’re able, to try to shed light on what brought him to that particular estate—why he picked your family’s home and that night. And we also want to clearly show that his actions had consequences. That he was convicted and paid the price. It’s an inextricable part of the story.”

  “Hmm.”

  Chloe expected Mrs. Caudle to be irritated by this news, by the inclusion of the man who caused her aunt’s death in the exhibit, but instead, her eyebrows narrowed, her lids dropping as she considered Chloe curiously. “You’re including, what? A section…devoted to Will Rader?”

  She didn’t sound annoyed. She sounded intrigued.

  “We are,” Chloe said slowly. “Will that be…difficult for you?”

  “Did you know Will Rader isn’t the one who shot my aunt?”

  “I’m aware of that. I’ve read the police reports.”

  Mrs. Caudle took a sip of tea, the cup clinking on the saucer when she set it back down. “The one thing my mother always emphasized to me was how her sister wouldn’t have died if Roosevelt’s bodyguard hadn’t shot at Will Rader. She always said that Rader never fired at a single person, and that if anyone was at fault for her sister’s death, it was her own father.”

  “Your mother blamed her father for Lily’s death?”

  Mrs. Caudle nodded. “And everything bad that happened after that.”

  “Why do you think that was?”

  Mrs. Caudle leaned back and crossed her arms. “Maybe it was as simple as the fact that his wealth drew Rader there. That and the terrible way he handled things in the aftermath.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what you expect to get out of me. I’ve told you all I know.”

  “I just hoped you might have remembered something else since speaking with Tara Hollis. I didn’t want to finish the exhibit without speaking with you personally.” Even as she said this, something pricked the back of Chloe’s mind, intuition demanding she pursue one more avenue of questioning. “One last thing. You said your mother made mention of Will Rader. He’s one of the reasons I’m here today because, in reviewing everything, something just doesn’t add up. My reading of the police records indicates that he would have received a lighter sentence if he’d just told the police where he’d hidden the stolen property. So the question I keep coming back to is, why didn’t he?”

  Mrs. Caudle snorted softly. “Those were the questions my mother got most often. ‘Cora, where do you think the treasure is? What do you think he did with it? Why didn’t he tell them where it was?’”

  “What would she say?”

  “That she hoped he chucked it into the middle of the Hudson.”

  “I don’t understand that. Why would a six-year-old not want it found? It was the reason her sister died. Why wouldn’t she want it all found and returned to the proper owners, so at least she would know for certain no one involved in the robbery benefited from it?”

  Mrs. Caudle shrugged. “No idea. But she loved the idea that it got buried in the muck at the bottom of the river.”

  “And another thing,” Chloe asked, pressing her luck, “I’ve read about a theory that Will Rader had an accomplice that night.”

  “And?”

  “Well, the police thought the manner of Rader’s escape seemed so badly executed, especially after the well-staged robbery, that it couldn’t have been his plan. That he may have had an accomplice who either chickened out and left him hanging or betrayed him and took off with the stolen property.”

  “If that’s true, why wouldn’t Rader have told the police about this accomplice?”

  “Exactly,” Chloe said. “That’s my point. Doesn’t it seem strange? Why do that if he could help himself?”

  “Maybe there was no accomplice,” Mrs. Caudle answered.

  “That still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t tell the police where he hid the stolen property. Unless he thought he might be able to get back to it. Or that someone else would.”

  “No,” Mrs. Caudle said. “My mother always said that Will Rader was adamant that it should rot where it was and that no one should ever benefit from it because it had Lily’s blood on it.”

  “Where did she learn that? I didn’t see that in any of the statements.”

  Mrs. Caudle’s bottom lip poked out, and she lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “You know, I’m not sure. I do remember her saying the family never talked about it. Her father refused to even mention Lily’s name after the funeral. I think they got a letter from Will Rader once, so it could have been in there. Or maybe it was gossip going around at the time. It was quite the story back then. She could have heard it from one of the maids. Anything he told the police could have easily leaked out.”

  The maids.

  Had anyone attempted to follow-up with any of them? Or the footmen? They would all have died by now, but perhaps their children might still be living. Maybe they had heard stories from their parents. It wouldn’t likely solve any mysteries, but it would add an interesting angle to the exhibit if she could get recollections from one or two of them.

  “What staff might she have heard it from? Was there anyone particularly close to her or to Lily?”

  “Lily had a lady’s maid who also served as Mother’s nanny. Mother spoke about her a few times. That was the only one I ever knew about, although I’m sure you could search through whatever records still exist from that time about the household employees. Or maybe the police interviews would give you a list of employees who were witnesses that night.”

  “What was the name of Lily’s maid?”

  Mrs. Caudle retrieved her teacup, took a sip, and closed her eyes. “Margaret? No, wait.”

  “Was it Mary?” Chloe offered. “Mary Graves? I saw her name on the police records from the interviews they conducted.”

  Mrs. Caudle opened her eyes. “Yes, that’s it. Mary Graves.”

  “I don’t suppose you ever met her?”

  “No, but I did meet her son, Joseph. He and his mother lived with the family both in the city and at the estate. It was a bit unusual, but Mary was a widow, and my grandmother apparently had a real soft spot for her. She insisted the boy stay with Mary so she could be live-in help. He was my mother’s dearest childhood friend and playmate until the bankruptcy, when Mary was let go. He was one of the few things about her childhood that she actually enjoyed talking about. They stayed in touch, at least for a while.”

  “Have you ever told anyone else this? Seems like someone would have asked.”

  “Just like you, people knew Mary Graves’s name from the police records. They didn’t need me to tell them. And Joseph was so little at the time of the robbery and disconnected from the whole thing, I doubt anyone would think it would be worth bothering with him.”

  “Is he still living?”

  “He is. Joseph’s in his nineties now.”

  Chloe perched on the edge of her seat. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to get in touch with him, would you?”

  Mrs. Caudle offered a small smile. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “What do you hope to gain from picking the brain of a ninety-year-old who was only five when the robbery happened?” Riley asked, sipping on black coffee he and Jack had picked up from a local shop while Chloe visited with Mrs. Caudle. He was leaning forward into the space between the front car seats as Jack drove them back to the estate.

  “I don’t know. But if no one’s ever talked to him, or if they haven’t in a long while, maybe he has insights to share that his mother shared wi
th him. It’s worth asking. I mean, at the very least, I got a quote from Lilyanne Caudle about her mother’s recollection of her sister, Lily. I’ll get that printed up and added to the exhibit. Maybe I can get something similar from him.”

  “Why didn’t they get that before?”

  “Mrs. Caudle doesn’t appreciate the treasure-hunting aspect, and I think Tara must have played up that angle too much. So I don’t think Mrs. Caudle warmed up to her.”

  “But she warmed up to you?” Riley asked, grinning.

  “Who wouldn’t?” Jack asked, reaching over to squeeze Chloe’s leg.

  “I think she just liked that I was focusing more on honoring her aunt’s memory rather than sensationalizing the robbery and treasure.”

  Riley asked, “But you’re including that, aren’t you?”

  “I am, but I think it’s the approach that makes the difference. I was surprised that Mrs. Caudle didn’t have a problem with me including whatever information I dig up about Will Rader—the robber,” she added for Riley’s benefit in case he’d forgotten.

  “You’d think she wouldn’t want him mentioned at all,” Riley said.

  “She said her mother didn’t blame him for what happened to her sister. Cora blamed her father for Lily’s death and thought Will Rader got a raw deal because he didn’t fire the shot that killed Lily.”

  “Hmm.” Jack’s face scrunched in thought as he turned onto Stonehall Estate Avenue. “So now you’re going to track down Joseph Graves?”

  “Fortunately, there’s not much tracking to do. He’s tucked away at an assisted living facility just south of Albany.”

  “Another road trip?” Jack asked.

  “Not for you two,” Chloe said. “I brought Riley up here to help you with your book, not run errands with me. I’ll call the facility when we get back and try to set something up for tomorrow.”

  “You sure you didn’t bring Riley up here to meet Deidre?” Jack taunted, his lips pressed together in a smirk.