Murder by Arrangement (Edna Davies mysteries Book 5) (12 page)

Chapter 17

“You home,
Edna?”

Mary’s voice
reached Edna about the same time that Hank rested his muzzle on her lap, tail
happily wagging. Ink Spot jumped onto the chair beside the one on which
Benjamin sat looking much like a miniature Sphinx. The black cat then stepped
delicately across to the ginger cat’s cushion before sitting on an edge,
nonchalantly beginning to lick a paw.

Once the lunch
dishes had been cleared and the kitchen cleaned, Edna had spent the afternoon
running a few errands before returning home to a cup of tea and her thoughts.
Her mind had been racing and the tea cooling as Mary let herself and her
companions in through the mudroom.

“Hi, neighbor.”
Glad for the distraction, Edna lifted the cozy and felt the tea pot to find it
had grown as cold as the liquid in her cup. “I could use a warmer. How about
you?”

“Wouldn’t mind.”
Mary placed a large book on the table next to Edna’s elbow before sitting
opposite and resting her forearms on the table. The book’s cover was a faded
brown with “A History of Rhode Island, Colonial Days to the Great War” in faded
gold lettering.

“What’s this?”
Edna picked up the old book and scanned the title page and table of contents.
The tome was at least two inches thick and heavy, its pages yellowed with age.

“It was in our
library,” Mary said. “Belonged to my grandfather. He collected books, mostly
history. I’ve been doin’ research.”

“On your ghost.
So Starling told me. You look more rested today. Has he gone?”

“No. He’s still
running around up there. I just got up from a nap. Came over to give you my new
theory. Get your opinion.”

Setting the book
aside, Edna rose to fill the kettle and place it on the stove while Hank moved
to settle on the floor next to the cats’ chair. As she returned to the table
for the porcelain pot, she raised her eyebrows. “A new theory?”

Mary nodded.
“I’ve been readin’ this book to find out what I can about the area. Figured it
might give me a clue to my ghost. You know, who he is and why he’s suddenly
become restless. Found a chapter on early slavery in Rhode Island. Our house
was a station on the Underground Railroad.” She announced the latter with some
pride.

“Really?” Edna
was intrigued.

“Yup,” Mary’s
head bobbed and an amused grin spread across her face. “One time, when Nanny
wasn’t lookin’, I snuck into the storage side of the attic. I wasn’t allowed in
that room, so of course that’s where I wanted to explore. I discovered a hiding
place in the chimney.”

“Oh?” Edna said,
smiling at her mental image of a child as unmanageable as her carroty-red,
curly hair. Fascinated by the Osbourne mansion’s past, Edna listened intently
as she poured hot water into the pot to warm it and reached for the tin of
loose tea.

“There’s a false
front on two sides of the big chimney in the storage area, above Father’s old
rooms.”

Edna thought of
her night in the bedroom over the kitchen after Tom Greene had been killed.
She’d stayed with Mary when the Davieses’ house had been broken into and Edna’s
life had been threatened. She remembered with some guilt, sneaking down the
back stairs in an attempt to escape from Mary who, Edna suspected at the time,
had dangerous intentions.

“It’s where the
runaway slaves hid when bounty hunters came looking for them.” Mary’s voice
broke into Edna’s reflections, as her story continued. “Father discovered I’d
found the secret place, and he told me that when that addition was built onto
the main house shortly before the Civil War, the masons added the extra brick
to the chimney. He said there was also supposed to be a secret passage in the
house, but he didn’t know where. He thought it must be between the new section
and the original outside wall, maybe a secret stairway up to the attic or down
to the dirt cellar. Off and on, growing up, I used to try to find it.” Mary
chucked. “I probably drove poor Nanny crazy, knocking on the walls, trying to
figure out if they were hollow. Forgot all about it ‘til I started readin’
about the abolitionists.”

“That’s
interesting,” Edna said, bringing the freshly brewed tea to the table. “I’d
like to see the old chimney hideout sometime.”

Mary nodded and
went on with her narrative, leaving Edna relieved her neighbor hadn’t used the
impulsive remark to begin pressuring Edna to spend the night. Instead, Mary
pulled the book closer to her and rested a hand on the cover. “Did you know
Rhode Island was the first of the original thirteen colonies to ban slavery?”

Edna shook her
head, reseating herself at the table. “No, I didn’t.”

Mary’s brow
creased in puzzlement. “That part of the history confuses me ‘cause it also
says Rhode Island had twice as many slaves as any other colony. After the
Revolutionary War, Rhode Island merchants controlled more than half the trade
in African slaves. That was part of the Triangle Trade I remember learning
about in school. You know, when molasses was shipped to New England to make
rum, and then the rum was shipped to Africa to trade for slaves who were
transported to the sugar plantations in the Caribbean so more molasses could be
produced. And around and around it went,” she said, rolling her head as if to
demonstrate the unending circle.

Edna was
interested, but bewildered. “I think we’ve gotten off the subject. What does
all that old history have to do with your ghost? Do you suspect he’s hiding in
the chimney?”

Mary shook her
head vigorously. “No, no. Not necessarily. Don’t you see? The chimney only
proves that people hid up there. The ghost might be an escaped slave who died
in the attic, but he could just as well have been killed in the nearby woods
and his spirit made it to the house because it was a safe place.”

“Don’t you think
you’re going a bit overboard with these ghost theories of yours? Maybe you
should call an exterminator and have them look for whatever wild animal is
hiding under the eaves.”

Mary looked
crestfallen. “You haven’t heard those sounds. It isn’t a wild animal. If you’d
come spend a night, you’d know what I’m talking about.”

Not quite ready
to go ghost-busting, Edna knew a sure-fire way to distract Mary was police
business. Noncommittally, she said, “Okay. I will, but not tonight. Right now,
Amanda’s friend Lettie is on my mind. You might be able to help me try to
figure something out.”

Mary’s eyes
brightened as she picked up her tea mug and held it between her hands. Before
taking a sip, she said, “Sure. What is it?”

“What do you
know about the scandal surrounding Gregory Haverstrum’s death?”

The redhead
frowned in bewilderment. “That was a coupla years ago. Why do you want to know
about that?”

“Remember when I
was suspected of poisoning Tom?”

Mary nodded, but
didn’t speak.

“Well, Rosie
Beck is living under the same dark cloud as I was before Tom’s murderer was
caught. Thank goodness the investigation didn’t drag out and affect my family,
but unfortunately that’s not the case with Rosie, and I learned recently that
Gregory’s daughter Lettie is being taunted by her classmates. Right now, Amanda
is her only friend. I’m very worried that sooner or later my granddaughter’s
friends will turn on her, too … or, if not their classmates, the parents will
forbid their children to associate with the girls.”

Mary slouched in
her chair, her mouth twisting in a smile that held no humor. “Kids can be
cruel,” she said, and Edna suspected her neighbor was speaking from personal
experience.

Was it the
carroty-red, unmanageable hair that her playmates ridiculed or Mary’s lanky
height or maybe the fact that she had a nanny? Anything that made a child stand
out from the rest was fodder for juvenile mockery, Edna thought with a mental
shake of her head. Aloud, she said, “I’d like to help that poor girl by finding
out what exactly happened to her father. I don’t expect to uncover any new
facts, but maybe I can provide a different perspective and something will pop
out that nobody considered significant at the time. Selfishly, I don’t want the
injustice to smear anyone in my son’s family, either.”

Mary
straightened and looked determined. “I’ll tell you what I can. Why don’t you
tell me what you already know? That’ll help jog my memory.”

Edna agreed and
looked up at the wall clock. “It’s nearly five. Near enough that I suggest we
switch from tea to wine and go sit in the living room. It’s warmed up enough to
melt the latest snowfall, but the house feels cold. I think a small fire in the
hearth would feel good, don’t you?”

In full
agreement, Mary opened a bottle of merlot while Edna arranged a plate of cheese
and crackers. Carrying everything to a more comfortable setting, Edna turned on
a couple of table lamps while Mary built a small fire to take the
late-afternoon chill from the room. Finally, sitting back in her favorite
chair, across the coffee table from where Mary sat on the sofa, Edna began to
relay what she’d learned from the Internet and from the people with whom she’d
spoken, so far.

“Gregory had
been housebound with the flu in the days leading up to his death. Several
people stopped in to visit during that time, and a few brought him food.
Apparently, the man didn’t cook for himself, even when he was healthy, but he
did seem able to warm things up.” Edna paused to take a sip of wine as she made
a mental list of Haverstrum’s callers. “Rosie came by twice that week. That seemed
strange to me, since their recent separation had not been amicable.”

“Maybe Rosie
went to see him because of Lettie,” Mary suggested. “Did the girl visit her
father?”

“Once, I
believe, with her grandmother, apparently against Rosie’s wishes,” Edna said.
“That’s what made me wonder about Rosie. She hadn’t wanted her daughter to
catch whatever was ailing Gregory, but she could have carried it back and given
it to Lettie herself.” Edna was thoughtful for a few seconds before continuing,
“Lily accompanied her granddaughter on a first visit and then made a second
visit herself the morning before Gregory died.” Almost absently, Edna added, “I
wonder how she got along with her son-in-law.”

Mary shrugged as
if the answer didn’t matter. “Who else went to see him?” she asked before
taking a sip from her glass and settling more comfortably into the corner of
the couch.

“Let’s see,”
said Edna, recalling the news stories. “Farren McCree, whom the reporters
referred to as his old mistress. I wonder if they meant ‘former’ or were
mocking her because she was quite a few years older than Gregory. Her showing
up also surprised me, since rumor was that he’d dumped her to take up with his
new office assistant Bobbi Callahan.” At the mention of Farren, Edna remembered
what the woman had said and passed it along to Mary. “According to Farren, she
was the one who broke off the affair.”

“She might say
that to save face,” Mary opined. “I bet it was Gregory who did the breaking up
‘cause Bobbi’s father was one of Haverstrum’s biggest clients. Duke Callahan
got her the job. She was a college sophomore, studying business before she
switched her major to education. Mr. Callahan thought practical experience
would do her some good. Wonder how he felt when he learned his friend took advantage
of the daughter. I seem to remember reporters referred to her as ‘Bobbi Doll’.
Can’t imagine he’d been pleased about that, either.”

Edna waited to
see if Mary would add any more information. When she didn’t, Edna said, “Young
Miss Callahan dropped by to see Gregory, of course. Besides some sort of soup
she’d bought at a deli, she had contracts for him to look over and checks to
sign.”

“Anyone else
show up?” Mary asked. She was stroking Ink Spot who had jumped into her lap.
Benjamin was in his bed by the hearth, and Hank had stretched out on the area
rug next to the sofa.

Edna recounted,
“Rosie, Lily, Farren, Bobbi … oh, yes, and Duke Callahan himself. He was
mentioned in the reports because he didn’t come forward until police talked to
a neighbor who said she’d seen him going into the condo the evening Gregory was
thought to have died. Callahan claimed he went to the door, but when Gregory
didn’t answer his knock, he left without entering the place. Said he neither
saw nor spoke to Gregory that night.”

“That’s right,”
Mary said, sitting up to put her wine glass on the coffee table. She then
melted back into the corner of the couch as she recalled. “I remember now … I
heard he was summoned to the police station after a patrol officer discovered
he’d been there. Mr. Callahan wasn’t very popular, particularly when he showed
up with a lawyer, but I think he’s good friends with the chief so no rumors
came out in the papers.”

Mention of the
police and the investigation prompted Edna to ask, “Do you know John
Forrester?”

“Don’t know him
personally, but I’ve heard some talk.” Mary’s grimace told Edna some of what
she wanted to know.

“What have you
heard?”

“That he grovels
before anyone he thinks has power and bullies everyone else. He’s arrogant and
a sexist. When he was still on the force, he acted oh-so-nice when other
detectives or officers were within earshot, but he could be mean as a coiled
snake, mostly to the women. Treated them like something to scrape off his shoe.
They all hated him.”

“How did he get away
with it? He must have been reprimanded for his behavior.”

Mary leaned
forward to select a cracker and a slice of cheese before settling back and
answering Edna. “I guess nobody ever had enough proof to bring an official
complaint. He probably made sure of that.” She paused and studied the food in
her hand for a few seconds. “Come to think of it, there was some gossip last
year that retirement wasn’t his idea. Some believe he was asked to leave.”