Читать книгу The Drowned Woman - Terry Thomas Lynn - Страница 9

Wade Connor’s blue Chevy was the only car on the street not covered with a fine patina of dust. I swore under my breath as I stepped off the bus, my document case in one hand, the meager groceries I scrounged with my ration coupons in the other, and headed toward home.

Hoping to slip up to our flat and avoid seeing Wade altogether, I climbed the steps that led to our entryway door and set my bags down, careful not to make too much noise as I reached for my keys. Zeke and I lived above our office, a spacious ground-floor storefront nestled against the hills of Sausalito. My desk and typewriter were tucked into a small office in the back, where I did the transcription work for my boss, Dr Matthew Geisler, who wrote textbooks on paranormal phenomena. Zeke didn’t have a title. Instead, he had Wade Connor. Wade worked for the FBI. Zeke worked for Wade on a freelance basis. From my perspective, Wade sent Zeke on secret operations, often putting Zeke in grave danger, and then took the credit for Zeke’s heroics. Wade’s voice met me as I stepped into the hallway.

‘Sarah needs to be told. And she needs a gun, so she can protect herself.’ I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against it.

‘She’ll never agree to carry a gun,’ Zeke said.

‘She will when she finds out what’s happened. And you’d better tell her. She’ll sense you’re keeping something from her, and then she’ll wind up in some sort of mess and compromise my entire operation. Be quiet. Someone’s there.’ The door burst open, and Wade stood in the doorjamb, his eyes ablaze. I raised my hands.

‘It’s just me.’

Zeke limped to the door. He smiled when he saw me. ‘Come in, love. We need to talk.’

I followed them into the office. Once we were all inside, Zeke locked the door and engaged two brand new deadbolts.

‘Extra locks?’

‘We have a situation.’

The ghost shimmered in the corner of the room, her eyes fixed on me. Wade and Zeke carried on, impervious to her.

‘Sarah, are you listening?’ Zeke asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. The ghost smiled and winked at me. I ignored her.

‘I want you both out of here.’ Wade barked out his orders. ‘Go upstairs and pack. Bring enough clothes to stay away for a month or two.’

I stood, ready to lash out at Wade, but one look at Zeke changed my mind. His brow was furrowed with worry. ‘What’s happened? Where are we going?’ I asked.

‘Millport,’ Zeke said. ‘I need to go home.’

‘And you’re not safe here,’ Wade piped in. ‘Zeke’s going to tell you all about it, once you are on your way.’ Wade peered between the blinds again, surveying the street below us, keeping his eyes riveted on the foot traffic as he spoke. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. I don’t mean to be short. Zeke will explain everything. I want you two on the road in fifteen minutes. You’re in danger. Can you please just go pack?’

‘I started to pack for you, but I didn’t know what you’d want to bring. Your typewriter is loaded up already. I put the extra ribbons, ink, and a case of paper in the trunk, too. I’ll take those.’ Zeke nodded at the sack of groceries I had carried in. ‘We can bring them with us. No meat, I suppose?’

‘Not a scrap,’ I said. ‘Do we have gasoline coupons?’

‘I’ve taken care of that,’ Wade said.

‘Of course you have.’ I sighed and left the room.

‘Stay away from the windows,’ Wade called after me.

With a shaking hand, I unlocked the door to our upstairs flat, frightened now, thanks to Wade Connor. I loved our flat. The bay windows faced the water, angled just enough to the west to allow floods of afternoon sun to fill the room.

The ghost stood before the window now, her image stronger than it was downstairs. She looked like the type of woman who rode horses over tall hedges while perched in a tiny saddle, fearless and bold. Her hair shimmered with golden light. She wore an evening dress of cream silk. It fitted her body and flowed to the floor like liquid pearls.

‘Why have you come?’ I asked. Although I could see ghosts, most of the time I couldn’t hear them. I pointed to a scratch pad which sat on the table near the sofa. ‘Can you write your answers?’

She floated over to the tablet in that particular way of ghosts.

‘Good. I’m going to pack.’ I turned my back on her and headed down the hall toward our bedroom. Zeke’s suitcase sat on the floor. Mine lay open on the bed, ready to be filled with the clothes I would need. Something about Wade’s manner and the look on Zeke’s face struck a chord with me. I realized with a start that I had seen fear, not only in Zeke, but in Wade Connor as well. Urged on by this, I threw clothes into the suitcase without thinking or taking the time to fold them. I jammed the black Lanvin evening gown on top of the pile, not caring that the tiny pleats around the waistline would need to be ironed again – a tedious job that I loathed. I grabbed four sweaters and tossed them on top of the gown.

A blast of cold air on the back of my neck told me that my ghost had joined me. She stood by my small writing desk, holding the tablet that I had left for her to write on. When I moved close to her, she disappeared. Her writing was schoolroom perfect. I am Zeke’s sister-in-law, Rachel Caen. You must find the emeralds to discover who killed me.

Rachel had dumped all the sweaters I had packed onto the bed, and was now replacing them with cotton blouses and light-weight summer clothes. She folded the clothes and placed them in neat stacks inside my case. When everything was properly stowed, she snapped the latches in place with a resounding click. The smile she gave was a sad one. She pointed to the tablet on the table one more time before she disappeared. New handwriting had replaced her prior message. Be careful. And just like that, she was gone.

* * *

It was ten-thirty by the time Zeke and I headed north on Highway 1, through the Marin headlands, a picnic basket on the backseat and a sinful amount of five-gallon fuel ration stamps tucked into the glove compartment.

‘You’ve been suspiciously quiet,’ Zeke said.

‘Tell me about Rachel and the emeralds.’

Startled, Zeke steered the car off the road and parked on the dirt shoulder.

‘She came to me.’ I bit back the desire to apologize. I had long grown tired of apologizing for something over which I had no control.

‘Who—’

‘Rachel Caen.’ I watched Zeke, trying to gauge his reaction. ‘Actually, she came to you. She was in the room with you and Wade when I came home.’

‘Oh, just what I need,’ Zeke said.

I looked ahead, not quite sure how to respond.

‘I’m sorry. Truly.’ He grabbed my hand. ‘I just forget. Your ability to see – it interferes with my logical brain at times.’

‘You said no secrets between us, Zeke. I promised you that I wouldn’t keep anything back. I am telling you that Rachel came to me.’

‘What does she want?’

‘She said if I find the emeralds, I will find her killer.’

Seconds ticked past. He didn’t speak, and neither did I. Zeke took my hand and kissed it. He handed me the newspaper. ‘Read the headline.’

I took the paper from him and scanned the front page. Resting in between the news of the war overseas and the threats of the striking miners, the headline that so worried Zeke screamed,

‘FIRE DESTROYS SAN FRANCISCO BARRACKS – ARSON SUSPECTED!’

‘I don’t understand. What does this have to do with you?’

‘The arsonist is one of Hendrik Shrader’s men,’ Zeke said.

White fear washed over me. A cramp formed in my stomach and my mouth went dry.

Hendrik Shrader – kidnapper, murderer, Nazi sympathizer, and Zeke’s mortal enemy.

‘I thought he and his collaborators had been arrested.’ I would never forget being thrown into the back of Hendrik Shrader’s car by one of his henchmen. Hendrik Shrader’s threats haunted my dreams to this day.

‘When they raided his apartment, he was gone, but they found a piece of paper with our address on it. And I agree with Wade, we’ll be safe in Millport. It’s a small town. If anyone comes looking for me, I’ll soon hear about it. Wade Connor can take care of Hendrik Shrader. Once it’s safe, we’ll come back and life will return to normal.’ Zeke rested his hand on my thigh.

‘Will it ever be safe?’ I imagined Hendrik Shrader had an army of men, and when one was thwarted, another would step up to take his place.

‘Hendrik Shrader isn’t my only enemy, Sarah. I have to be diligent. Making enemies like Hendrik Shrader is a component of the life I’ve chosen to live. I will spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, for Hendrik Shrader and others.’

‘I admit to being a little afraid,’ I said.

‘Caution is the operative word,’ Zeke said. ‘We’ll be safe in Millport. It’s about time you met my family.’

I believed him. ‘Tell me about Rachel. How did she die? Tell me about the emeralds.’

‘Rachel is – was – my brother William’s wife. My father didn’t approve of the match. Rachel didn’t come from an influential family. Instead, she pulled herself up by the bootstraps. She was a smart girl. Wanted to be a doctor. Not a nurse, mind you, a doctor. And she probably would have succeeded. We all went to an annual Christmas Eve party at the Winslows’. The Winslows are our closest neighbors. There’s a path from our property to theirs by way of a lake that my grandfather built. Rachel left the party early. She brought walking shoes and put them on under her dress.’ Zeke laughed and shook his head. ‘I remember how she looked, in that long flowing dress, that gorgeous necklace around her neck, those bulky shoes, and her fur coat. She claimed a headache and left the party early. She walked home and disappeared. There was speculation. Many thought she had run away, cracked under the pressure of living in the same house with my father, who was very vocal about his disapproval of William’s marriage and Rachel’s desire to go to medical school. Her body turned up two weeks later in the lake. She had been drowned; murdered. Rachel’s death almost destroyed my brother. He loved his wife very much.’

‘And the emeralds?’

‘Gone. Disappeared without a trace. My father hired divers to search the lake. He offered a generous reward for their return, but they were never found. They are unusual in that they are round, perfect orbs shaped like pearls, with gold filigree over each stone. My words don’t do them justice. They were stunning. Every now and again a journalist rekindles the story, and the speculation starts all over again.’

‘I wonder why Rachel came to me now?’ I asked.

‘Because one of the stones has turned up at a jeweler’s in Portland, Oregon.’ I took in Zeke’s words, playing out in my mind what they meant. ‘Surely they can trace the stone?’

‘The police are trying. Wade’s father, Ken, was the detective on the case. He spent the last three years trying to solve it. He retired last year. I imagine he is still trying to figure out who murdered Rachel. He was very fond of her – we all were. I haven’t had much contact with anyone in Millport since I left.’

‘What a sad story for Rachel,’ I said. ‘I think I would have liked her.’

‘You would have. Everyone did. William never recovered. That’s why he volunteered to go to Germany with me. I made it home. He didn’t. Now my father and I hate each other.’ Zeke stared at the road ahead, lost in his own thoughts, and didn’t speak for a period after. ‘I’m glad you’re coming with me. I will be better able to face them with you at my side.’

I smiled.

‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you,’ he went on.

‘What is it?’ I asked, worried now.

‘I need you to be careful. I’m not going to tell you to ignore Rachel’s ghost because I know you wouldn’t listen to me anyway. And don’t look at me like that. You know I’m right. But the woman was murdered. All I’m asking is that you take caution. If you think you are coming close to uncovering any information about Rachel’s killer, come to me. I will help you. I will listen to you, and I will do whatever you ask. I just need you to be smart. You have a tendency to put yourself right in the middle – enough said. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Because I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.’

He took my hand and kissed it. We drove like that, hand in hand, connected, each with our own thoughts. We drove along craggy cliffs with the waves pounding beneath us, enjoying the estuaries teaming with wildlife and sea birds and the warm summer sun.

‘I should tell you about my family, so you can prepare yourself,’ Zeke said. ‘My father and I don’t get along. I’ll leave it at that. I’ve not seen him in almost four years, so maybe he’s changed. I don’t know. My brother Simon is a ne’er-do-well. My father spoiled him since the day he was born. He hasn’t done a day’s work in his life. Father just throws money at him. Simon gambles, and I would tell you that he is just as bad as my father—’

‘But?’ I asked.

‘But he has a wonderful wife, Daphne, who is trying her best to force him to grow up. They have a little boy, Toby, who I haven’t seen since he was a baby. My family’s mill has always manufactured textiles, namely velvet for curtains and upholstery. They’ve switched gears since the war and now manufacture silk parachutes. That’s about all I know.’

‘Did you work at the plant?’

‘Of course,’ Zeke said. ‘We all did – Simon, William, and I. Father demanded it. I returned from Germany in 1939 and moved to San Francisco to work with Wade. He wasn’t happy. I have no idea how things are situated now.’

‘You haven’t missed your family? I never hear you speak of them.’

‘I miss Granna and Simon at times, but no, I don’t miss my father.’ He smiled at me. ‘My life is with you. I’ve moved on.’

We had traveled for three hours when my stomach growled.

‘Ready for a picnic?’ Zeke asked. He drove off the highway onto a dirt road almost hidden by overgrown shrubs and saplings. He continued about half a mile until we wound up at a gravel parking lot abutting a secluded beach under a steep cliff.

Despite his injured leg and the cane he now used to walk, Zeke carried the hamper with our food. I knew better than to offer to help him, so I picked up the blanket and followed him along the rocky path which led to the beach. Soon we made our encampment and dug into egg salad sandwiches, potato salad, and canned peaches. The cliff provided a shelter against the wind. The crashing waves served as our background music. When we finished eating, we lay side by side on the blanket, basking in the warm sun as seagulls circled overhead. For that brief moment it seemed as though we had no troubles at all.

I kissed him. ‘I expected you to forbid me to get involved in Rachel’s murder.’

‘I don’t believe in forbidding. I don’t want, nor do I have, that type of control over you. Just stay safe. That’s all I ask. If things get dangerous, I’ll help you. Will you do that?’

‘Yes.’ I kissed him again.

* * *

From the beach, we headed inland, away from the brisk sea air and into the blazing summer heat. I dozed in the car for the last two hours of the journey and didn’t wake up until we crossed the railroad tracks into Millport. We drove along Main Street, passing a bank, a post office, a pharmacy, a hardware store, a women’s beauty shop, and a diner. People milled along the sidewalks. Some window-shopped, some hurried along at a surprising pace, considering the heat waves which shimmered from the ground. Trickles of sweat beaded between my shoulder blades and ran down my back. When I leaned forward in the seat, my blouse stuck to my skin.

We rounded the corner and reached a three-story brick building with a row of police cars parked in front. Zeke drove around the block until we found a place to park under the shade of an oak tree. He rolled up his window and took the keys from the ignition.

‘I’m here to fix the business I left unfinished three-and-a-half years ago. After that, we are going to leave and – with luck – never come back.’

We were interrupted by an obnoxious rapping on the driver’s side window. Zeke opened the door and got out of the car. The girl who stood outside moved in to hug him, but he managed to turn his back on her as he opened the back door and took his cane out of the back seat. I got out myself, even though I knew that Zeke would have preferred to come around to open the door for me. We moved toward each other and met by the trunk, the woman following at Zeke’s heels.

‘Hello, Sophie,’ Zeke said. ‘I’d like you to meet my wife, Sarah. Sarah, Sophie Winslow.’ Sophie Winslow reminded me of an elf – a mean elf, but an elf nonetheless. She had a pointed nose and big brown eyes which gazed at me with a fair measure of malice. She wore trousers with sturdy walking shoes. Above the waist, she was dressed in a blouse with a collar made of fine lace. A strand of good pearls encircled her long neck.

‘Hello.’ She all but ignored me and spoke to Zeke. ‘The cane makes you distinguished, darling,’ she said.

Zeke moved next to me and enfolded me in the arm that wasn’t holding the cane.

‘So is this the new wife?’ Sophie smiled as she said this, aware of my discomfort and taking pleasure in it. ‘She’s had her name in all the papers, I hear.’

‘Sophie, when are you going to grow up?’

‘I am grown up, darling, and if you stick around long enough, you might discover that for yourself.’ She changed the subject. ‘Daphne’s planned a little reception for you tomorrow night. Mother expects you to come to the house at some point for cocktails and gossip. She’ll want to get a look at Sarah, of course. They all will.’ She faced me. ‘You’ve brought proper clothes?’ She didn’t give me a chance to answer. ‘Never mind. Daphne will help you. She always helps the underdog. God knows, she has a closet full of clothes that she will never wear.’

Sophie didn’t give either one of us room to get a word in.

‘Okay, darlings. Got to run. Kiss, kiss.’ She hurried off, spry and quick, leaving a vacuum of silence in her wake.

‘That is Daphne’s little sister,’ Zeke said, as we walked through the blazing heat. ‘Don’t mind her. She’s a little fool.’

More like a cunning fox. I forced a smile. Zeke held the door for me, and we walked into the police station.

* * *

A dark-haired man with a haggard face and tired eyes waited for us in the lobby. He didn’t have a drop of sweat on him, despite the long-sleeved shirt. I didn’t notice his missing arm until he pushed away from the wall. The desk sergeant, an older man whose face resembled a bulldog, looked on as Wade Connor’s brother and Zeke’s childhood friend, Joe, greeted us.

‘Welcome, Sarah. I’m so glad to meet you.’ Joe Connor had a warm smile and an easygoing way about him.

‘How are you holding up?’ Zeke asked, as he and Joe shook hands.

‘No more boxing for me, but I’m managing. I tell myself to be grateful that I only lost an arm. Others fared much worse, believe me. What happened to the leg?’

‘No more boxing for me either. One of your brother’s operations went awry.’

‘You should get one of those canes with a sword on the inside,’ Joe smiled. ‘Come on. Let’s go to my office so we can talk.’

We followed Joe down a corridor of smoked glass doors with the names etched in gold letters on the outside. We stopped before one that said ‘Detective Joseph Connor’.

‘Impressive.’ Zeke ran his fingers over the gold lettering.

‘I’m glad you’ve come back, Zeke. I’m sorry about Hendrik Shrader and that you and Sarah are in danger, but something’s happened …’ Joe hesitated.

‘Out with it, Joe. What’s he done?’

We followed Joe into his office.

‘There have been a series of jewel heists in Millport. The thief – or thieves if you believe some people – targets the Millport elite. Initially the robberies occurred when no one was home. That, among other things, has led us to believe that whoever is doing these robberies is on familiar terms with the victims.’

A large map took up almost an entire wall, complete with pins with red flags, which were stuck in random places.

Joe opened a file cabinet and took out a stack of files. He reached inside one of them and handed Zeke a bunch of photos in various shapes and sizes.

‘Things have escalated lately. The burglar is taking more risks and has been entering the houses while people are there, usually while they are sleeping. He climbed up the Donaldsons’ drainpipe and stole Mrs Donaldson’s jewelry box, right out from under her nose.’

We thumbed through a stack of photographs, all depicting jewelry – diamond necklaces, earrings, bracelets, pearls – and a large quantity of sterling. The burglar had hit the motherload.

I moved over to the map on the wall.

‘I’ve put pins where the robberies have taken place. I was desperate to try something. As you can see, the victims are all concentrated in that eight-mile circumference. This guy is physically fit. He’s nimble, which also leads me to believe that he doesn’t live here. All the usual suspects enlisted and are no longer in Millport. So we’re looking for an outsider, which should help.’

‘Are you saying that Millport has a cat burglar?’ Zeke said.

‘Yes,’ Joe said.

‘Press?’ Zeke asked.

‘Haven’t gotten a hold of it yet,’ Joe said. ‘But it’s just a matter of time. The victims don’t want their names made public, and the various insurance companies are eager to recover the jewels so they don’t have to pay the claims. It’s a nightmare and of course, no one is happy with my efforts.’

‘Surely you don’t think my brother has been climbing into people’s homes and stealing their valuables?’

‘He’s recently paid off a large gambling debt. Where did he get the money? He won’t tell me. I’ve asked him repeatedly. There are some who believe that I am not objective because of my connection to your family. You know as well as I do that Simon has been headed for trouble.’

‘That doesn’t mean he has the emeralds, or that he had anything to do with Rachel’s death.’

‘I realize that. But an emerald turns up and all of a sudden Simon has the money to pay off his sizable gambling debts. The newspapers haven’t yet discovered that one of the emeralds has turned up. But they will. Everyone in town knows. Conclusions have been drawn. I will keep you informed as to what’s going on. You’re home now. We’ll sort this out. As for the other thing, I’ve spoken to Wade. A few of us in the department know what’s going on. If anyone comes after you, we’ll soon know about it.’

‘Who discovered the emerald in Portland?’

‘My father. Since he retired, he’s been obsessed with Rachel’s case. He claims that he will solve her murder before he dies, and if he doesn’t, he’ll come back from the grave to see justice done.’

‘Do you need my help? If my brother is a suspect …’ Zeke didn’t finish his sentence.

‘As of now, I don’t need your help. Since your brother is a potential suspect, your involvement would start speculation and rumor. I can promise to keep you informed, but that’s the extent of it. Wade has offered his services in tracing the emerald. That should help, but it’s going to take some time.’

‘I believe you have something for me?’ Zeke asked.

Joe took a black leather case the size of a large book out of his desk drawer.

‘I expect you to teach her to be safe with this,’ he said as he handed it to Zeke.

‘Sarah, this is for you,’ Zeke said. He laid the box on the desk and stepped aside. ‘Open it.’

I undid the brass latch and lifted the lid of the box. Inside lay a tiny gun made of gleaming silver, with a mother-of-pearl handle. I recoiled.

‘What am I going to do with that?’ I asked.

‘You are going to learn to use it to defend yourself,’ Zeke said.

‘I will not. I refuse. You know very well that I would never shoot anyone no matter what they were doing,’ I said.

Joe Connor intervened on Zeke’s behalf. ‘Sarah, the men who are after you and Zeke are dangerous. I usually do not condone civilians carrying guns, especially women, but I think in this instance Zeke’s right. Just take the gun, Sarah. Let Zeke show you how to use it. Practice a bit. When this man who is after you is back in custody, you can put it away.’

I looked at my husband and his well-intentioned friend. Hendrik Shrader was a dangerous man. I knew that. But the question remained, would I actually be able to shoot him?

‘You’d shoot him if he was going to harm you,’ Zeke said, as if he could read my mind. ‘And I know you’d shoot him if he was going to harm me.’

He was right. With a sinking feeling, I acquiesced.