Half Past Mourning (18 page)

Borman read over the marriage license again. “I’ve known Danny since he was born,” the man began. “His father and I were good friends, though I never cared much for Marigold. I’ve had to deal with her from time to time since Dan died, but as much as possible I’ve kept away from her. When Danny turned twenty-five I breathed a big sigh of relief because I wouldn’t have to have any more discussions with that woman. Not that I was all that impressed with the boy, either.” He looked down at the license again. “Nina?” His eyes sought her face.

“Yes, sir, Nina Kirkland. Danny and I were married two years ago. I would have invited you to the wedding, but Danny didn’t mention you. He and Marigold kept it a very small, intimate event.”

Borman handed the license back to her. “I didn’t know, Nina. I had no idea Danny had married you. And you last saw him when?”

Nina swallowed hard. It never got any easier to tell the story. “An hour after the wedding, Mr. Borman. He went to get the car. We were coming here for our wedding trip, so he could sign all those business papers, but he never came back. He never came back for me.”

Borman looked over the top of his glasses. “And you’re just now searching for him?” He glanced back at the sheriff. “Hasn’t anybody been in much of a hurry to find Danny? Groom disappears on his wedding day, seems like there should have been questions long before this.”

A faint flush rose to color the sheriff’s weathered face. “Chalk that up to Marigold deciding the boy had run out on his bride because he got cold feet, and add to it a country sheriff who let her persuade him not to make a scandal and embarrass her in the county.”

“So what lit a fire under that country sheriff?” Borman inquired.

“A whole bunch of things that suddenly don’t add up,” Hayes snapped. “Peter, tell the lawyer what brought you into this mess.” He glanced back at the attorney. “Peter’s been doing some special investigation on Miss Nina’s behalf and turned up some pretty telling evidence.”

Nina drew a long breath. Her palms were damp, and she was glad for the gloves that hid the slight tremble in her hands. She’d been over the story so many times, but this time...this time she was certain there would be answers. Something in the attorney’s eyes told her he had places to look.

Peter began by telling how he bought the yellow T-Bird and subsequently met Nina. Nina showed the lawyer Danny’s driver’s license, and Peter added the papers to the car. The sheriff picked up the story to tell of his conversations with Marigold, how he learned, finally, that she’d had no actual contact with Danny, and how he’d concluded that if Danny had indeed run away the only trail he’d left would be through the offices of the law firm handling his affairs.

“And that, Borman, brings us to this moment. I’m hoping you’ll see the legal complications Miss Nina faces and do what you can to assist her. In the long run, it’s in Danny’s best interests to resolve this marriage question, isn’t it?”

“I had no idea, Nina, that Danny could leave someone in this situation. You said you and he were coming here, after the wedding, to take care of some paperwork on his inheritance?”

“Yes, we married just a couple of weeks after his twenty-fifth birthday. He said we’d make a little trip here and take care of the legalities, whatever papers the trust required, at the same time. We had reservations at the Adolphus, and we thought we’d just take some time to visit the city, too.”

Nina didn’t understand the grave, almost pitying look on the attorney’s face. He reached across to put his hand over hers. “My dear, oh, my dear girl, he did lead you down the path, didn’t he? Danny was in this office the day after his birthday to take care of all that. He was in that pretty little car of his, and he kept hurrying us to get the formalities out of the way. Said he had a date and didn’t want to be late. Not a word about getting married, my dear, not a word.”

Nina would have sworn she couldn’t feel another blow, but realizing that even the trip Danny had planned for them was a falsehood left her shaken.

The attorney squeezed her hand again. “Let me make a couple of phone calls, if you don’t mind. I haven’t talked to Danny myself since he was here that day. I’ll see what our files show. Even if I can’t give you his address, I can make a personal call on your behalf, at least begin some inquiries. I’m not very active in the firm these days. More ‘of counsel’ than anything else. Most of my routine files are in the hands of one of my associates. Danny’s legal work is minimal, mostly everyday general tax matters. Excuse me for a minute. Would you like coffee while I check on this?”

As minutes passed and the attorney didn’t return, Nina became restless and apprehensive. Something had delayed Borman far longer than she found comfortable. Something that likely had nothing to do with Danny Wilson, she kept telling herself.

“He probably has a lot of other things to take care of, doesn’t he?” she asked Peter as the minutes stretched into half an hour, then an hour. “Or maybe the person he needed to talk to was out of the office. That could happen.”

Al Hayes nodded, but his eyes were narrow and suspicious. “Could be that, could be. Or could be he’s still trying to get off the hook. Give him another fifteen minutes before I start thinking like a sheriff.”

Peter rose to follow Nina as she stared out the soaring windows. He turned her away from the glass wall to face him. “It doesn’t seem to get easier, does it, sweetheart? About the time you think you have something solid in your hands, something that’s going to give you an answer, it turns to mist and floats away. But there’s an answer, Nina, and we’ll find it. I believe that.”

“I wish I did. Right now I wish I just had one thing I could believe in.”

Peter tucked her head against his shoulder. “You do have something to believe in, Nina. You can believe that the sheriff is doing all he can. You can believe that a lot of people love you and want you to be at peace with this thing.” He tilted her chin up. “And you can believe when all of this is finally over I’ll be standing there waiting to take you home.”

Whatever Nina would have answered she had no chance to say. The office door opened and J. Sandover Borman stalked back into his palatial den. “Sorry this took so long,” he began. “I think you’d better sit down while I explain where I’ve been.”

He spread a fan of documents out on the side table. “What it amounts to is this. Danny Wilson has for all practical purposes vanished from the face of the earth. His quarterly checks have been deposited to a bank in Daytona. His taxes have been paid by the bank and trust that has been taking care of his affairs since his father died. All that is aboveboard and perfectly proper. What isn’t clear is what the boy’s been living on and where he’s been living while he did it. In the two years the money’s been going into that account, not one cent has ever been taken out. No checks, no withdrawals, no traveler’s checks, and no money orders have passed through it.” Borman took off his glasses and lifted his palms in helpless confusion. “The files have been handed from one associate to another because they require very little attention. As one associate gets busier, he passes the Wilson files on to a newer, less encumbered man. In two years, three young, busy lawyers have handled the paperwork. Danny didn’t come up on anybody’s list of concerns.” He tapped the documents into a neat pile. “And I have no idea where that young man is. No idea at all.”

Nina didn’t remember much of the afternoon from that point on. Somehow she and Peter and Sheriff Hayes left the law firm. In low voices, Peter and the sheriff talked between themselves, but Nina neither knew what they said nor could summon attention enough to ask. She simply existed, remembering to breathe, to walk, to sit, as the events of the afternoon washed around her. With no idea of how much time had passed, she at last realized she was in the car with Peter, that the city traffic no longer swirled around them, but where they went ceased to matter. Her mind was filled with the words of the lawyer. Danny had no reason to take her to Dallas; he’d already taken care of the business he’d used as an excuse for the trip. His money went to a bank in Florida, but he’d never drawn out a nickel of it. Danny hadn’t told the law firm he was planning to get married. He’d been in a rush to finish his business because he had a date waiting. With every person he contacted, Danny had put forth a different story. Did any of them touch on the truth? How would she ever know? The enigma that was Danny Wilson continued.

Peter’s voice finally broke through her circling thoughts. “Nina?” His hand shook her shoulder gently. “Nina, sweetheart, I know this afternoon has been miserable for you. I’m so sorry.”

Looking out the car window, Nina realized they had pulled into a parking lot. “Where are we?”

Peter tucked her handbag into her lap. “I thought we’d better get some dinner. You didn’t eat much of anything at lunch, and that was a good while ago.” He gestured at the fading light outside and the quiet restaurant just beginning to show signs of opening. “I know this place. It serves a decent steak, if I could interest you in one. Okay?”

Though she didn’t feel hungry, Nina recognized Peter had a point. It had been a long and disheartening day. She felt confined in the car.

“I don’t think I could handle anything that heavy. Soup, maybe, just soup, or maybe a salad.”

At such an early dinner hour the restaurant was quiet. They were seated at a table far from the door in a pleasant alcove. As Nina removed her white gloves, the waiter produced menus and left them to study the display. Peter suggested a creamy soup and baked potato. It seemed the easiest choice, and Nina, with no interest in discussing alternatives, went along with his idea. Her mind kept turning over the events of the day. She toyed with her coffee spoon, turning it over, stroking the smooth bowl, and finally put it aside.

“It only makes sense one way, doesn’t it, Peter?”

Peter’s eyes met hers. “I’m afraid so, my dear. I’m afraid so.”

She nodded slowly, staring down at her ungloved hands. At last, drawing herself out of the long, empty place where she had retreated since leaving the office building, she turned the wide gold band on her finger, feeling the warmth of the gold, trying to picture the moment Danny had put it on her hand. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself to the act and eased it off her finger. It shimmered in the palm of her hand.

“Danny’s dead.”

Chapter 11

The ring glowed in the low lights of the restaurant. Cupped in the palm of Nina’s hand, the circle of gold still held the warmth of her body. It hadn’t been off her finger in over two years, not since the moment Danny slipped it on her finger with the solemn promise implicit in his murmured “I do.” She raised her eyes to Peter’s.

“Danny’s dead,” she repeated, the words making the thought a reality.

Peter seemed to weigh his words before he answered. “I think so, sweetheart. I don’t see any other possibility. He hasn’t drawn money or made any real contact, and there’s no trace of him. I know the sheriff’s asked the Florida officials to make a search of their records, but I don’t think they’ll find a driver’s license or any other information showing Danny’s ever lived there. I think you’re right. Danny died some time after he left the church.”

“But the telegrams to Marigold? Who sent those? And who called her to say Danny was following the race circuit?”

“I don’t know. Somebody who knew enough about Danny to know that Marigold’s influence in Santa Rita could either stop a search for Danny or send it into high gear.”

“Everybody who knew Danny at all knew Marigold controlled as much of Danny’s life as she possibly could. Even the people who only knew him from the car meets joked about his ‘apron strings’ problem. Everybody knew.” Nina glanced at the envelope and thought of the marriage license it held. “The only time Marigold lost total control was our wedding, and she thought she’d won that time, too.”

Peter reached across the table and covered both of Nina’s hands with his. “I think the person we know as Jeff Davis is responsible for Danny’s disappearance.”

Nina drew back from him. “Jeff Davis? The man who sold Danny’s car to Andrews?” That didn’t make sense to her. “He’s in Dallas. He wouldn’t know anything about Santa Rita. He might know about Danny’s problem with his mother, but he wouldn’t know Santa Rita. How could he?”

The waiter arrived with their dinner, halting conversation for the moment. Assured they had everything they needed, he withdrew, but Nina paid no attention to the bowl in front of her. She turned the ring, still lost in the confusion of her thoughts.

“I think I can piece together at least a part of what happened, Nina.” Peter’s words drew her back to the present. “Do you feel like talking about it now? Do you want some time to deal with this? Is it too much for today? Tell me what you need.”

Nina closed her hand over the ring and then slipped it into the envelope holding her marriage license. She tucked the envelope into her handbag and snapped it shut. Pausing before answering Peter, as if putting the license and ring away were a ritual to be observed with solemnity, she kept silent. She felt she’d turned a corner in her life, and somehow taking Danny’s ring from her finger symbolized the direction she must now face.

“I’m all right, Peter.” She met his steady gaze. “Really, I’m okay. A little rocky, maybe, and I’m glad I don’t have to face a class of fourth graders tomorrow. Tell me what you’re thinking. If you can make sense of this thing, you’re ahead of me.”

“You’re certain?” Peter held her eyes another second. “Eat first, sweetheart, and then we’ll talk.”

The thought of eating left boulder-sized knots in her midsection. “I couldn’t get it down, Peter. I know you mean well, but right this minute it’s all I can do to look at food.”

“A little soup? Just a bite or two?” he coaxed.

His slate-grey eyes crinkled with concern, and his tone sounded strained. Nina shook her head, but then to ease his anxiety dipped her spoon and swallowed. “A little more,” he urged. “Or maybe the baked potato?”