The Drowned Woman Read online

  ‘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.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to Betty, as I retrieved the pen, put the cap back on and handed it to her. ‘I’m sure it’s not damaged, but if it is, I will pay for it.’

  Betty’s face had gone pale. Tears welled up in her eyes. She stared behind me, terrified.

  ‘You really shouldn’t handle such expensive things,’ a voice said behind me. ‘Clearly that pen is out of your price range. I’d like to know why you even bothered to look at it.’ The tall woman with the piercing eyes hovered over me. She had a high forehead and eyebrows drawn into a perfect arch. They gave her a startled expression, counterbalanced by the mean, hard eyes that stared at me with blatant disapproval. A pince-nez hung on a string of seed pearls around her neck. She he
ld it before her eyes and scrutinized me through it.

  ‘That’s really none of your business, ma’am,’ I said.

  ‘Everything in this town is my business, young lady. You’d do well to remember that. Now who are your people?’

  One of her friends approached. She gave me a pitying look as she touched the obnoxious woman’s arm. ‘Come now. We’re going to be late, and I’m starved.’

  The woman snorted, gave me a condescending look that said, ‘I’ll deal with you later,’ and allowed her friend to lead her out of the shop.

  ‘Miss, if you’ll step over to the register, I’ll just ring you up.’ Betty cast her glance at the back of the store where the manager – a mousy-looking woman in an unflattering brown suit – came toward us.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ the woman asked.

  ‘No, ma’am. I was just looking at this fountain pen, and I dropped it. I’ll be glad to pay for any damage.’

  A wave of recognition washed over the woman’s face.

  ‘Are you Zeke’s wife?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Well, welcome to Millport, Mrs Caen,’ the woman said. ‘We’re so pleased that Zeke has come home. I’m sure you’ll be happy here.’ She took the cap off the pen and examined the nib. ‘There’s no harm been done to the pen. Don’t you worry about it.’ I didn’t have the heart to tell her we weren’t staying.

  Betty handed me my package. I paid and headed out of the store, wishing I had asked Betty about the odious woman. Who are your people? Please.

  * * *

  The walk home was a pleasant one. I was becoming accustomed to the heat and, after the chill of the stationer’s, welcomed its warmth. This time I took a different path toward the house, through a wooded area, lush with blackberries and wildflowers. As I neared the Caen property, I came across a swing – for Toby, I imagined – hung on the low-lying branch of an oak tree. When I heard the murmur of voices ahead of me, I ducked behind one of the shrubs.

  ‘This is it,’ a familiar voice said. ‘You can count it. It’s all there.’

  I peered through the bushes and saw Simon Caen and another man. Simon wore a light blue shirt with the collar unbuttoned and no tie or hat, as if he had come in a hurry. Perspiration soaked his underarms and back. The man who stood opposite Simon wore a suit and a hat. He stood with his hands in his pockets, in a laissez-faire attitude, not a drop of sweat on him. I stood stock still, keeping my eyes riveted on Simon.

  ‘Not so fast,’ the man said. ‘There’s the matter of interest.’

  ‘I’ve paid your interest,’ Simon burst out. ‘This is it. I’m finished.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ the man said. ‘You’ll bet, you’ll lose, and you’ll come crying to me again.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Simon said. His voice came high-pitched and desperate. ‘You stay away from me. I’m finished with you.’

  ‘You’ll be back. Guys like you can’t quit.’

  I never got a look at his face. He walked away, the leaves crunching under his feet. Simon stepped into my view. He stood in the middle of the deserted lane, watching, anguish written in the set of his brow, the pinch of his mouth. Soon he walked toward town, his shoulders hunched, as though he carried the burden of the world there. I made myself wait five minutes before I stepped out into the open. Simon didn’t need to know I had seen his business transaction.

  * * *

  Zeke met me as I came into the house.

  ‘I’ve got to talk to you,’ I said.

  ‘Not now. My father wants us. He’s waiting.’

  High windows in heavy wood casings took up an entire wall in the study. The burgundy velvet curtains that covered them kept the room so dark that all the lamps had been lit. The effect was grim. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases took up the wall opposite the windows and surrounded a fireplace, over which hung a portrait of a man with the green Caen eyes. Will Sr sat behind a desk the size of a ship, his eyes dancing. He smiled when he saw us and rubbed his hands together.

  ‘Ah, you’re here.’ A folded document lay before him. He flipped it over, face down on the desk. A gray-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses sat in one of the chairs which faced the desk. He stood up when we walked into the room.

  ‘Good to see you, young man.’

  ‘Sarah, this is Mitchell Springer, our family lawyer,’ Will Sr said.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ I said.

  Mr Springer gave a nervous cough and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  Zeke held the chair next to Mr Springer out for me. After I was seated, he moved a chair from the corner next to mine. He didn’t hurry. His movements were slow and deliberate. When we were all seated, Will Sr spoke to Zeke.

  ‘You had no business getting married without my permission.’

  Tension radiated from Zeke in waves. Will Sr went on speaking. ‘Young lady, I’ve raised my children to put honor and family first. My children would never accuse the man who raised them of murder. My children would never wind up in court, with their names smeared in the headlines for weeks at a time.’

  ‘There’s no need to bring up Sarah’s past. You know nothing about it. Her father is a murderer. Why is that Sarah’s fault?’ Zeke spoke in a calm, measured voice. ‘What’s that document, father?’

  ‘I’ll let Mitchell explain. It’s the solution, my boy.’

  ‘Well, Mitchell?’ Zeke said.

  ‘You father thought the best thing to do would be – it’s the easiest, you know—’ Mitchell Springer choked on his own words. He took off his glasses and polished them with the swatch of white linen that protruded from his suit pocket.

  Zeke’s father picked up the papers on his desk and handed them to Zeke. Zeke stood now and read the papers.

  ‘You prepared annulment papers?’

  ‘You had no business marrying this tart and bringing shame upon this family.’ Will Sr didn’t even look at me.

  Tears welled in my eyes.

  ‘You can go to hell.’ Zeke tore the papers in half. He grabbed my hand and stormed out of the office, dragging me behind him. He slammed the door behind us and led me into the foyer.

  ‘I promise that you will never suffer at his hands again.’ He hurried up the stairs, half running. His fury overrode any pain from his injured leg. I resisted the urge to follow him. Instead I left him with his rage and burst out of the house, hoping to find a way to deal with my own.

  Chapter 5

  I stumbled down the stairs and took off running. When my breath shortened and the cramps started, I slowed down to a brisk walk. I kept moving, not paying attention to my surroundings or my destination.

  My grief had propelled me all the way to the stable. I stood before it now, gasping for breath, sweat and tears running down my face. The smell of horses and sweet hay filled the air. No wonder Daphne loved being here. I stepped into the shade of the barn, surprised at the welcoming cool air. Daphne stood in front of one of the stalls, holding a shovel. She leaned it against the building and walked toward me.

  She stepped into a small room and came back with a canteen. ‘You’d better drink some water. You’ll get dehydrated if you’re not careful.’

  I tipped the canteen back and guzzled, not caring that the water dripped down my chin and over the front of my blouse.

  ‘You’ve had your little meeting with Mr Springer?’ Daphne sounded very casual about the whole thing.

  ‘Little meeting? Zeke’s father – annulment – I can’t even believe it.’

  ‘Come sit.’ I followed her into the room. She took a pile of horse blankets off one of two shabby chairs. The walls were covered with ribbons, mostly blue, with an occasional red thrown in. A shelf by the desk held a smattering of trophies. Pictures of young kids – mostly girls – and their horses covered the walls.

  Daphne sat down in one of the chairs. I took the other. We sat for a few minutes in comfortable silence. Daphne didn’t pry or ask questions as I collected my thoughts.

  ‘So you knew that Will Sr planned to annul ou
r marriage?’

  ‘I did. But I didn’t think twice about it. I knew Zeke would blow up, and they would fight. That’s what they always do. William goads Zeke, and Zeke falls for it every single time. William used you horribly, though, and I’m sorry for that. Now come and meet my baby. I need to talk to you about something, but this first.’

  We walked through the barn and out to the other side pasture area. Four horses grazed on the golden grass. When Daphne whistled, the red horse’s head popped up, his ears forward. He took off at a full gallop, his pounding hooves causing the ground to vibrate beneath our feet. Fearless, Daphne hopped over the fence and walked right into the horse’s path, not the least bit afraid. He skidded to a stop just as he reached her. She laughed and held out her hand. He dropped his head, submissive. She kissed his nose as he tried to nuzzle her ear. She walked back to the fence with the horse following after her like a well-trained dog.

  ‘Meet Seadrift,’ Daphne said.

  I held out my hand, uncertain what to say or do around such a magnificent animal. He ignored me.

  ‘He’s the finest horse I’ve ever had,’ she said. She rubbed his face for a minute. I waited.

  ‘I know you saw Simon in the woods today.’ She didn’t look at me as she spoke.

  ‘How—’

  ‘That doesn’t matter.’

  I had no idea what to say to Daphne. I didn’t want to pry into her affairs, nor did I see any reason to lie to her.

  ‘He’s forever in debt. You probably surmised he has a gambling problem.’ Daphne spoke in a soft voice. Calm now, Seadrift rested his giant head on Daphne’s shoulder. As Daphne stroked the whorl on his face, his eyes started to droop. ‘I gave him the money and vowed it would be the last time. If he gambles and gets into debt again, I’m leaving and taking Toby with me. I swear.’

  ‘He told the man to stay away from him, if that’s any consolation,’ I said.

  When Daphne stopped petting Seadrift, he opened his eyes and kept them riveted on her as she walked back into the shade of the barn. She sat down on a bale of hay. I sat down next to her.