Читать книгу The Drowned Woman - Terry Thomas Lynn - Страница 12

Doors opened and shut. Voices whispered in the corridor above me, which flooded with light. Footsteps pounded down the stairs.

‘Sarah?’ Zeke squatted down next to me, wincing as he bent his injured leg.

‘Don’t move her,’ Daphne said.

I convulsed with shivers.

‘She’s in shock,’ Simon said. ‘Daphne, brandy and a blanket, please.’

Soon Daphne returned with the blanket. Simon tucked it in around me, his hands gentle and sure, while Zeke cradled my head in his lap. Daphne poured a dollop of brandy into a snifter and handed it to Zeke. He helped me sit up and held the snifter to my lips. I sipped. The brandy went down smooth and hot. Soon the shivering stopped.

Simon examined my ankle. He poked and prodded. ‘Does this hurt?’

‘No.’ My voice came out as a croak. ‘I want to try to stand up.’ Zeke and Simon helped me to my feet.

‘I should fetch a doctor,’ Daphne said.

‘No.’

Daphne recoiled at my tone. I hadn’t meant to snap.

‘I’ll be fine. I just want to get back to bed.’

‘If it were broken it would be swollen,’ Simon said.

‘Are you sure you don’t want us to fetch the doctor?’ Zeke asked.

‘No. Let’s wait until tomorrow. I think I’ll be fine.’

‘Do you have aspirin?’ Daphne asked.

‘I do,’ Zeke said. ‘Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.’ I didn’t bother trying to put the weight on my ankle, for that wasn’t my problem. My shock didn’t come from pain. It came from fear. It came from being pushed down the stairs.

* * *

‘Lock the door,’ I said to Zeke the minute we were in our room and I was situated on the couch.

He turned the key in the lock and left it there.

‘What’s the matter? You’re scared to death.’

‘Someone pushed me,’ I said.

‘What? Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘Tell me what happened.’ Zeke sat down next to me on the love seat. He reached the afghan that hung over the back and placed it around my shoulders.

‘I was going to come and look for you. It was dark. I didn’t see anything or hear anything. I sensed someone behind me. I called out to them and was just turning around to see who it was, when they pushed me.’

‘There’s no way that Jack Bennett knows where you are, Sarah. And I am certain that Hendrik Shrader has no idea where we are. In any event, I’m going to secure the house.’

‘I’m coming with you.’ I put my feet on the floor and tried to stand. Pain exploded in my ankle. I sat back down. ‘Maybe not.’

‘I’m locking you in. Don’t open the door for anyone but me, okay? I’ll be right back.’ He left the room. The key turned in the lock, and I sat listening until his footsteps faded away. With great effort and considerable pain, I managed to hobble off to bed. After what seemed like an eternity, Zeke returned.

‘All the windows were shut tight and locked. Are you okay?’ He locked the door behind him and sat on the bed next to me.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.

‘I need to ask you some questions while this is fresh in your mind.’

‘Okay.’

‘Lay back and close your eyes.’

I did as he instructed.

‘Was the hand that pushed you that of a man or a woman?’

‘I have no idea. They came up behind me, so it’s not like I saw them.’

‘Okay, think of it this way. Was the hand large or small? Strong? Or soft?’ I remembered the feel of the hand between my shoulder blades.

‘Strong,’ I said, ‘but I can’t tell the size.’

‘Did you smell anything? Cologne, aftershave? Perfume?’

I shook my head. ‘No, no smells.’

After he brushed his teeth, Zeke turned off the light and slipped under the covers next to me. When I was cradled in his arms, he said, ‘I don’t want to think that one of my family members pushed you.’

‘What if I surprised the cat burglar?’

‘I thought of that, too. If the cat burglar was in the house, I doubt he would take pains to close the window or door behind him. You’re going to learn to shoot tomorrow,’ Zeke said.

I shivered, but not from the cold.

* * *

Zeke was gone when I awoke to the morning sun beaming into my room. It was already hot, but I welcomed the light of day. Nothing like sunlight to cast away the shadows.

‘We’ll have to pull the curtains soon, miss,’ Helen said. She fussed with my pillows as I tied my dressing gown around my waist. ‘Otherwise it will get too hot in here and you’ll roast.’

‘I don’t plan on staying in bed all day,’ I said. My ankle didn’t hurt as much this morning, and I had no intention of spending my day cooped up in bed. Helen had placed the newspaper on the table, the headlines a brutal reminder of the war: ‘RAF, YANKS SMASHING REICH!’ The photos beneath the caption depicted a bomb’s wreckage and ruin. I flipped through the pages until I came across an ad for Quentin Reynolds’ radio piece entitled, ‘What Nazis Did to Civilians in Russia.’ Underneath that a small headline announced, ‘17 OUT OF 100 FATHERS MAY BE DRAFTED BEFORE 44.’

‘Pretty soon there won’t be any men left,’ Helen said. She picked up Zeke’s shirt and tossed it in the laundry hamper. ‘Do you want me to draw you a bath?’

‘No,’ I said, setting the paper down. ‘I’m going to dress and go outside.’

‘Do you need me for anything?’

‘No, Helen. Thanks for taking such good care of me,’ I said.

‘I’ll go down and get you some coffee and cinnamon rolls. Mrs Griswold’s cinnamon rolls will make your ankle feel better,’ Helen said. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but they have curing abilities. You’ll see.’

‘Knock, knock.’ Daphne breezed into the room, decked out in breeches and tall leather boots. She carried a crystal vase filled with an assortment of flowers I recognized from our tour of the garden. ‘These are for you, Sarah. I picked them myself this morning.’

‘They’re gorgeous. Where in the world did you get that vase?’

‘I bought it from an estate sale in Chesterton. It’s Waterford, probably late nineteenth century.’ She set the vase down on the table next to the breakfast tray and arranged the flowers until they were perfectly symmetrical. ‘I scour estate sales and church jumbles. This sort of vase is out of fashion now, but I like it, so to heck with fashion.’

She had used child’s marbles in a myriad of colors to secure the stems in the bottom of the vase. I recognized a cat’s eye, a couple of clams, peppermint swirls and an abundance of ordinary glass marbles, plain yet brilliant, especially when the sunlight reflected their colors through the cut crystal vase.

‘I read about it in one of the women’s magazines I subscribe to. Don’t tell Toby, a good many of them came from his toy box. By the way, Zeke’s downstairs with Simon and an insurance adjuster, who’s come about the emeralds.’ She said, ‘We can listen through the dumbwaiter in your sitting room if you want. Come on.’

I got out of bed, tested my ankle, and discovered it didn’t hurt if I was careful. I followed Daphne to the little door that accessed the dumbwaiter. She put her finger over her lips. I nodded in understanding. She raised the door and we both leaned into the shaft, eavesdropping without shame.

‘—or anyone in your family have any dealings with any jewelers in Portland, Oregon?’

‘Why would we?’ Simon’s voice floated up to us.

‘Never mind the “why,”’ the man said. ‘I’m asking the questions today. As you know, our company paid a large claim to you when the emeralds were reported missing. Now that one of them has surfaced, surely you can see why my company wants to investigate.’

‘But surely you don’t think that someone in this family has sold the emeralds to a jeweler in Oregon?’ Simon said.

‘That’s exactly what he thinks,’ Zeke said. ‘We know that one of the emeralds has turned up in Portland, Oregon. The police have it. If and when it, or any of the other emeralds, are returned to our family, our lawyer will contact you. My family is not in the habit of committing fraud.’

‘If the emeralds are recovered, we will expect reimbursement for the claim we paid, Mr Caen.’

‘I think you should leave, Mr Spencer. Our lawyers will be in touch.’

‘But I—’

‘I assure you, you have our full cooperation. I just got into town last night and am still getting familiar with the situation. Thank you, Mr Spencer,’ Zeke said. We heard footsteps and a door shutting.

‘Zeke certainly knows how to take charge,’ Daphne said. ‘You love him very much, don’t you?’

‘Is it that obvious?’

She smiled for a second, before her expression became serious. ‘What’s wrong, Sarah? Something’s bothering you.’

I weighed my words before I spoke. ‘Someone pushed me down the stairs last night. I am certain of it, or at least I was certain of it last night. Now I think I’m being fanciful.’

‘I can assure you that no one in this family would want to harm you.’ She smiled at me.

‘Not even Will Sr?’

Daphne’s face became serious before she forced a smile. ‘I’m so sorry that you had to witness that scene last night Don’t let him bother you. He speaks that way to all of us, except Granna, of course. He’s upset because we are about to be invaded. Again.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Any minute now the reporters will be at the gate, never mind the police investigation. Will Sr is a fusspot, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

Helen came in with a tray laden with a coffee pot and a plate heaped with cinnamon rolls. They smelled divine.

‘Join me?’ I asked Daphne, as Helen busied herself setting the tray down on the small table.

‘No, thanks. I’ve got to get to the barn. Lessons at nine-thirty.’ Daphne walked over to the table to survey the food and coffee. ‘Mrs Griswold is a world-class baker. Oh, Helen, make sure that the vase comes directly back to me.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Helen said.

‘I’ll be off then,’ Daphne said. ‘Rest well, Sarah.’

Resting well didn’t work for me. I had no intention of staying in bed, so I moved over to my desk and transcribed a few of Dr Geisler’s handwritten pages. I had just finished proofing my work when the curtains rustled in the breeze, and the sweet smell of the mown grass wafted into the room. I pushed away from the typewriter, ready to be outdoors.

* * *

Downstairs, the curtains were shut, cloaking the foyer and the adjoining rooms in darkness. I didn’t hear a sound, nor did I see anyone. I knew Zeke and Simon – and probably Will Sr – were at the mill. I opened the front door and headed down the porch stairs.

I walked down the long driveway, staying in the shade. Seadrift raised his head and nickered at me when I walked past the pasture. In the distance, the roof of the stable peeked out among the trees. Soon I was by myself in a wooded area, the trail covered in dead leaves and lichen. I came to a weathered barn, bleached gray from years of sunlight. Bright green ivy climbed the front and wove through the rafters. A limb had fallen onto the roof and rotted there, long forgotten. I veered left, away from the old building, and toward the sun-dappled lane that led to Millport. I walked along the railroad track, my ankle getting better with every step. By the time I reached the town proper, my injury was all but forgotten.

Recalling Zeke’s narrative about the different shops and the people that owned them, I passed the bank, the café, and the general store. I headed for the stationer’s. Despite my brand new typewriter, I still liked to write notes longhand. While some women shopped for shoes and hats, my passion lay with fountain pens and thick linen paper.

A delicate bell jingled as I entered the store, a spacious room with high ceilings and white walls, redolent of floor wax and fresh paint. The cool air gave me goose bumps, and I marveled at how a shop like this managed to stay so cool. The influx of workers at the silk mill and the lumber mill was a boon for Millport. The store had a good share of shoppers, evidenced by the long queue at the cash registers, where two clerks, both wearing navy blue aprons with their names embroidered on their chests, rung up sales. Three women stood off to the side of the registers, huddled together, sharing confidences. They all wore hats and gloves, and I chastised myself for leaving the house without at least a pair of gloves. Every now and again, the tallest woman, who I imagined was the leader of the bunch, would raise her head and scan the store, like a buzzard searching for a fresh carcass.

I ignored her and headed for the row of stationery in the back of the shop. The women broke their huddle and stared at me as I walked by, their gazes burning the spot between my shoulder blades. I ignored them and focused on the surprising selection of fine stationery. I chose a thick creamy linen with matching envelopes.

‘I can get those for you,’ a young girl said. She wore the same apron as the other clerks. Hers had Betty emblazoned across the front. ‘How many?’

‘How about twelve sheets of stationery and eight envelopes.’ I could always walk back into town if I needed more. An excuse to get out of the house might turn out to be a blessing. ‘I’ll just browse for a while.’

‘That’s fine, miss. I’ll have these up at the register for you.’ The girl hurried off. I continued to look around the store, meandering full circle back up to the front, where I paused before a glass display of fountain pens. A black lacquer pen with gold overlay held place of pride in the middle of the display, resting atop a blood red leather case.

‘It’s a beauty, isn’t it?’ Betty spoke from the other side of the counter. ‘It’s a 1918 Conklin Crescent. That’s real gold on the overlay.’

‘May I?’ I asked.

‘Of course,’ Betty said. She opened the case, took out the pen, and handed it to me. My hand slipped as I reached to take it from her, and the pen fell to the floor with a clatter. The cap jumped off and skittered across the floor.