by D. L. Wood
But that was then. Now, Chloe had a wealth of information at her fingertips. She did a quick web search for the name Ansel Wagner, 1930, New York City. When it returned nothing, she added the address and tried again.
Nothing.
She tried several other permutations: 1930s, born 1910, 1911, Lower East Side Manhattan. Still nothing relevant turned up.
An ad for AncestorBase.com sat at the top of the search results. Chloe had never used one of these ancestry research sites. She hadn’t ever been interested in tracking the roots of her own family, given how disappointing her mother and father had been. Maybe she would rethink that, now that she had repaired her relationship with her father, but for the moment Ansel Wagner was her target.
She signed up for a free trial and typed in Ansel Wagner, added the year 1932 and the address he had listed in New York. She punched enter and in seconds had over a dozen Ansel Wagners from various time periods, but only two results for New York City during the 1930s—Ansel Rolf Wagner and Ansel Peter Wagner. However, the 1930 U.S. Census indicated that Ansel Rolf Wagner was only three years old at that time. This left only Ansel Peter Wagner, even though the same census recorded him as living at a different address than the one on the prison log.
All right, Ansel Peter Wagner, let’s see what we can find on you.
AncestorBase came up with several hits. The first thing that caught her eye was that he had graduated from Cleermont High School on the Lower East Side, Class of 1929.
He lived in the same Manhattan neighborhood as Will Rader and was practically the same age. Had they attended school together?
Chloe typed in everything she knew about Will Rader: full name William Henry Rader, Jr., born July 7, 1911, died March 17, 1932, place of residence, 570 East 10th Street, New York, New York.
Four William Raders popped up, but only one had the correct year of birth. She clicked on him and, sure enough, he graduated in the same class as Wagner. Having confirmed that, she went back to the information AncestorBase had already dug up on Wagner.
He married Edna Billings in the fall of 1929. He enlisted in the United States Army as a private in February, 1930. And he died on November 4, 1931, in Chicago, Illinois. The death certificate gave the cause of death as blunt force trauma resulting from an automobile accident.
Electricity zinged through Chloe as she pulled up the prison log again.
Wagner’s visit was on January 12, 1932.
If she had the right Ansel Wagner—and given his high school connection to Will she was sure that she did—and he died in November of 1931, obviously there was no way he could have visited Will in prison in 1932.
So if the real Ansel Wagner didn’t visit Will, who did?
A chill trickled down Chloe’s spine.
Someone who didn’t want to use their own name.
Someone who only needed twenty-five minutes with Will.
Why just twenty-five minutes after a long trip to a prison in the middle-of-nowhere Upstate New York?
Because less time meant leaving more quickly. In and out.
And who would want to get in and out of that prison as quickly as possible?
An accomplice.
These ancestry services were clearinghouses of all kinds of information that wouldn’t have been accessible to the average person in the past, not even in 1992. Back then, finding out whether someone had died could be quite difficult. You would need to know where the person had lived at the time of death in order to know what county and state would have issued a death certificate or what newspaper obituaries to search—it would have been like hunting for a particular headstone in Arlington National Cemetery without a directory. So before recent years, even if someone knew about Ansel Wagner, would they have been able to discover that he died in 1931? Would they have even thought to look?
Chloe had stumbled onto something new.
But now what?
If Will and the real Wagner were classmates, maybe the person posing as Wagner had been one too. A high school friend of Will’s—one that Will maybe trusted enough to help pull off the robbery. And when that person needed an alias to visit Will in prison, he would have known that Ansel Wagner was a name with a legitimate connection to Will.
Unfortunately, AncestorBase didn’t have a process for searching for entire class lists. It did offer ads for another website, YearbooksofYesteryear.com, that did. After signing up for another free trial, Chloe held her breath and typed in a search for Cleermont High School, New York City, Class of 1929.
She gasped with delight—turning around briefly to make sure she hadn’t disturbed Jack—when the search returned not only a class list of twenty-seven seniors, but also a yearbook scanned into the database. It didn’t take long to find the group photograph of the senior class, standing on the steps of the school building. The black-and-white photo showed three rows of students—seventeen boys, ten girls. The boys formed the back two lines and the girls the front. Though they were neat and clean, their hair slicked, tucked and brushed, and clothes ironed and spotless, there was still the distinct air of poverty about these students. Like they had made an effort but just couldn’t shake the streets off. They lived in one of the poorest sections of Manhattan at the time, after all. It was probably a miracle that they had graduated at all.
Their names were printed beneath the photo, but Chloe didn’t need them to find Will Rader. He stood in the middle of the second row, tall, beaming, with a wide grin and enlivened eyes that even a monochrome vintage photo couldn’t dull. Ansel Wagner stood on the end of the same row, shorter than Will, with curly blond hair.
She scanned the remaining fifteen male faces, her gut tightening at the thought that one of those boys might have been the accomplice so many had speculated about but could never prove existed. Chloe ran a finger across the computer screen, along the rows of smiles. These kids were all long gone. But like Cora Stone and Mary Graves, they would have descendants.
And like Joe and Lilyanne Caudle, maybe those descendants would have the answers she was looking for.
There was no way Chloe would be able to research the fifteen male students’ family trees in a timely manner. And she wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. Her best hope was that a descendant, maybe a child or grandchild, had heard a story passed down through the family.
Although why would they ever admit to that?
“Yeah, my grandfather was complicit in a robbery that got a girl killed.”
That probably wasn’t something anyone would be eager to share. Then again, a lot of time had passed. With all the involved parties long dead, maybe the notoriety would actually incentivize them to talk.
The truth was, she was chasing smoke, but she couldn’t just let go of the idea. She didn’t know what she might get out of it until she tried.
Rather than attempt the research herself, Chloe stayed up till one in the morning filling out requests on AncestryBase.com for the site to do the research for her—provide full profiles and family trees for the fifteen boys, and in particular give detailed information on living direct descendants. It wasn’t cheap, but she was all-in and wanted answers more than she cared about the $24.99 expedited service fee for each search. With any luck, she would have her answers in a day or two.
When she finally laid her head on the pillow, she was out in less than a minute, falling into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
34
“Chloe, wake up.”
Faint light permeated her eyelids. The bed was warm, too warm to leave. She pulled her shoulder away from his shaking and buried her face beneath a pillow.
“Chloe, seriously, come on. Please,” Jack said, rolling her back over. She let him, and blinked. He stood, fully dressed on her side of the bed. She squinted at the clock.
Eight thirty.
Eight thirty on New Year’s Eve. Their second anniversary!
“Happy Anniversary,” she said with a smile, reaching for him. “Sorry, I was up late working on—”
“I
need you to come with me right now.” He stepped to the chair where she’d laid her clothes from the day before and brought them to her.
Something was wrong. Their anniversary forgotten, dread drained all feeling from her body as her memory came flooding back about Riley. He couldn’t be…no…
“Is it Riley? Oh, Jack, don’t tell me that Riley’s—”
“No, it’s not Riley. It’s Deidre. They’re arresting her.”
Chloe hurtled down the third-floor steps behind Jack, heading to Deidre’s office.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she kept moving. There had been no time to get answers in the room as she pulled on her clothes then followed him out, tripping on her shoes as she tried to put them on while jogging after him.
“I’m not sure. Deidre called me when things turned ugly.” They turned at the landing and sped down the grand staircase.
“Why you? You’re not involved.”
A uniformed officer stood in the foyer near the front desk. Several guests were scattered nearby, whispering. The officer urged them to move on, telling them there was nothing for them to see. Obviously, word had already gotten around.
“I guess I’m the closest thing to a company rep here,” Jack said, in answer to Chloe’s question. “I’ve talked to Dad, and he asked me to officially step in until they can get someone here from the city from one of their other hotels.”
They reached the front desk, explained who they were and were waved in by the officer. They pushed through the door into Deidre’s office to find Detective Yarbrough standing behind Deidre’s desk. Detective Riggs was searching the room.
Deidre sat in one of the chairs on the visitor’s side of her desk, her hands cuffed in front of her, resting in her lap. Her eyes, scared and wide, flashed first to Chloe, then Jack. “I swear, I have no idea what’s going on. They just showed up half an hour ago and put me in these.” Lifting the cuffs, she looked to Chloe again.
Chloe’s heart plummeted. The woman was genuinely afraid. Chloe didn’t blame her. She stepped to the side, waiting to see what happened. She wasn’t sure how she could help or why Jack had brought her.
“Detective Yarbrough,” Jack said, “can you explain why you’ve arrested my manager? What can you tell me?”
“Nothing. This is an ongoing investigation.” He handed a piece of paper to Jack, then pointed to Riggs, currently searching the contents of the desk. “That warrant covers other areas of the resort as well. Look, I can sympathize with the position this puts your company in. The community wants this place to succeed, Mr. Bartholomew. And so do I, but we’ve got jobs to do. Have you got someone who can take over for Ms. Nolan?”
“Will that be necessary? Will bail be offered?”
“I don’t think so. At least not as quickly as you’ll need her back here.”
“Why? What’s she being charged with?”
Detective Yarbrough appraised Jack and cocked his head slightly.
“The murder of Nate Lewis, multiple counts of felony destruction of property, and theft,” he paused, “and the attempted murder of Aaron Riley.”
Deidre sucked in a shaky breath, clearly holding back tears.
Chloe practically pounced from where she stood against the wall. “What?” she exclaimed. “No way! There’s no way she was involved in any of that!”
“You need to step back, Mrs. Bartholomew,” Detective Yarbrough said firmly, pointing his hand to the door like he was directing traffic. “In fact, you shouldn’t even be here right now. I don’t know why your husband brought you.”
“It’s a family company,” Jack announced stiffly, “and she’s part of the family.”
Detective Yarbrough blew out a longsuffering breath. “Right now the two of you are in the way. I understand your predicament and your need for information, but you need to go. As soon as we finish here and get Ms. Nolan squared away, I’ll brief you on the details I can share. Until then, I need you to wait anywhere but here.”
Chloe knew they didn’t have any power. She pinched Jack’s sleeve and pulled. “Come on, Jack. He’ll talk to us in a minute.”
Reluctantly, Jack stepped with her toward the door.
Chloe paused and looked at the scared woman in the chair. “Deidre, we’ll find out what’s going on and help however we can.”
“You can call a lawyer for her,” Detective Yarbrough said. “She’s going to need it.”
35
Chloe and Jack had been married on New Year’s Eve two years earlier after a very short engagement. It had been the best New Year’s Day of her life. Now they were two years into what she knew would be decades together. Wonderful decades. And that deserved the best celebration they could manage.
But what they could manage at the moment was not quite what she, and she was sure, Jack, had hoped for, given the peril Riley and Deidre were in.
The truth was that Chloe couldn’t even explain to herself why a white-hot ball of anger was burning in her stomach over what was happening to Deidre. I’ve only known her for less than a week, for goodness’ sake. But something in her was certain of the woman’s innocence, and though she couldn’t articulate it beyond that to Jack, he had agreed with her wholeheartedly.
While they waited for more information they ate brunch, over which Jack gifted her an exquisite set of diamond earrings, “One for each year,” he said, as she put them on. But despite trying, they couldn’t shake the pall that had been cast over their day. They both acknowledged it and committed to making the evening special despite everything going on, beginning with the New Year’s Eve Ball.
Right after the last plate was whisked from their table, Jack received a call from the lawyer the company had retained for Deidre. By that time, the stand-in manager had arrived from Manhattan but was consumed with getting up to speed on resort operations and the ball, leaving him no time for the pressing legal matters. Consequently, Jack agreed to continue acting as the company’s representative as far as it concerned Deidre and the crimes committed on the property. Convenient, since, as it turned out, Deidre specifically asked her lawyer to update Jack and Chloe anyway.
By one o’clock, they were back in Deidre’s office, Jack sitting behind the desk with Chloe and Deidre’s lawyer, Ethan Li, perched in the chairs in front of it.
Li looked to be about forty with straight black hair cut short and styled heavily with product. He wore clear-rimmed glasses and carried himself with an air of complete confidence that likely served him well in the courtroom. Chloe hoped it would serve Deidre well too.
“I understand you’re stepping in as the company representative?” Li asked Jack.
“Just on this matter. The company brought in another manager to temporarily handle running the hotel.”
Li shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. “On your say-so, the company hired me to represent Ms. Nolan. At least for the time being. She wanted me to convey that she’s very appreciative and also wanted me to assure you she had absolutely no involvement in any of the crimes she’s accused of.”
“We don’t believe she did,” Chloe chimed in.
“Otherwise, we wouldn’t have requested the company provide legal counsel,” Jack said.
“Well, to start, the police are only divulging certain information at this point,” Ethan Li told them. “Eventually, we’ll get the whole story, but for now, as it’s an ongoing investigation, and they are being tight-lipped about some things. They made a real run at getting Deidre to confess—which she didn’t—and dumped most of what they have on her in the hopes of getting her to do that. It's a bit of a long story, but just hang with me. As you can guess, after Nate Lewis’s death, they began looking into all of the employees of the resort, gathering information, etcetera. They were investigating Kingsford, too, given the ongoing feud, and Mr. Lewis’s belief that Kingsford was responsible for everything. Ms. Nolan came to their attention because she was one of the last people seen with Mr. Lewis that night, and there was apparently a heated argumen
t between them.”
“Who reported that?” Jack said. “This is the first I’ve heard of an argument.”
Li breathed in heavily. “There’s a limit to what I can share. Obviously, I can’t say anything that violates attorney-client privilege. But I can tell you that Ms. Nolan vehemently denies any such argument. She admits she met with Mr. Lewis earlier in the evening to discuss how to handle his acrimonious feelings toward Mr. Kingsford but insists they didn’t argue. The police wouldn’t share the name of the person or persons who made the report.”
“I thought they weren’t positive that Nate Lewis’s death was murder.”
“Things have changed with all that’s happened in the last two days. What’s more, as you know, they now believe they have sufficient evidence to charge Ms. Nolan with his murder.”
“Surely they don’t think Deidre was the person who attacked me and wrecked the exhibit?”
“You told the investigating officer you couldn’t say for certain whether it was a man or a woman who attacked you?”
“True,” Chloe admitted, “but what would be her reason for destroying the exhibit and stealing the letter she directed the front desk clerk to give me? If she didn’t want me to have it, why give it to me in the first place?”
“It’s a good question, and one I’ll raise. But they’ll likely say it was all part of a bigger design and that passing the envelope to you was necessary to keep up the impression that she was trustworthy, and not involved in any of the sabotage going on.” He paused, eyeing them both before proceeding. “They have a lot of questions about the attack on your friend, Mr. Riley.”
