The Tale of Halcyon Crane (12 page)

“Well, I certainly have the time and the resources to find out,” I told her, standing up with an air of finality. “Mira, thank you for your hospitality. I’d appreciate it if you’d put my bill together so I can settle up. Madlyn’s house is mine now, and I’m going to move in. Today.”

Mira nodded. “If you need any help along the way, Hallie, please don’t hesitate to call on me. I want to know the truth about what happened just as much as you do.”

I hugged her tight. “Thank you, Mira. I promise I will.”

She pulled back and grabbed my hands, squeezing them hard. “Listen. Somebody’s going to have to break this news to the Suttons. It’s going to devastate them.”

The thought of confronting the Suttons made me physically ill. “Mira, would you do it? I don’t even know these people. It would be better coming from someone they know and love.”

She nodded. “I’ll make sure they hear today.”

After paying my bill, I arranged with Henry to take my bags to my new house and hurried down the hill toward town at a quick walk. I hadn’t had any real exercise since I reached the island. The day was blue and brisk following yesterday’s rainstorm, but I didn’t mind the cold. It felt like a cool washcloth to the face after an intense bout of crying. I tried to distract myself by imagining what the harbor must look like in summer, filled with ferries and sailboats and yachts. But all I could think of was a father and daughter fleeing together to a new life, while the parents of another daughter grieved in unimaginable horror.

I reached town to discover it was deserted, as usual. Should I go to Will’s office? The coffee shop? The harbor? Will put an end to my wondering by poking his head out of his office door.

“Hey!” he called to me. “I saw you coming down the hill. How about some coffee?”

“Sure,” I called back, and he emerged onto the street, closing his door behind him.

“How did you sleep?” he asked me.

“Not well,” I said, taking off my sunglasses to reveal puffy dark-ringed eyes. “This morning wasn’t any better. I told Mira the truth and got an earful in response.”

“I’ll bet you did.” Will flashed me a grin as he opened the door to the coffee shop and we slipped inside, out of the chill. “I want to hear all about it. But first, how do you like your latte?”

“Skim, with a half shot of chocolate and a half shot of almond,” Jonah piped up. I looked up to see him standing behind the counter.

“I like a man who remembers how I drink my coffee.”

Will looked at Jonah and then at me. “Did I miss something? You guys know each other?”

“I was in here yesterday,” I explained quickly.

“How did your meeting with this clown go?” Jonah asked, nodding toward Will as he slid my coffee across the counter.

I grinned. “It went as well as a meeting with a lawyer can go, I suppose.”

Jonah chuckled. “One of the gals who was in here yesterday saw you two headed out toward Madlyn Crane’s place.” He leaned in, giving me a conspiratorial wink.

“Yup, that’s where we went.” I took a deep breath and continued. “You might as well know. The house belongs to me now, Jonah. She left it to me in her will, among other things.”

Jonah squinted at me for a moment. “I knew it!” he exclaimed, slapping a hand on the counter. “I saw the resemblance when you came in yesterday; we all did. But I wasn’t sure—”

“Hey, let’s give the lady a break from the questioning,” Will interjected. “She has a lot to take in right now, and she’s not up to another inquisition this morning.”

Jonah gave him a sidelong glance. “What do you mean,
another
inquisition?”

“She’s staying at the Manitou Inn.” Will smiled, and a knowing look came over Jonah’s face. Apparently, Mira’s reputation as a busybody was well known.

“Enough said,” Jonah conceded. “I won’t keep you. You guys grab a seat and enjoy that coffee.”

We sank into a pair of armchairs by the fire, and in hushed tones I told Will about my confrontation with Mira, my decision to move to the house, and my determination to get to the bottom of what really happened there all those years ago.

“This mystery about the murder, I just can’t let it be. I have to try to clear my dad’s name.” I paused. “But there’s something else I want to find out, too, something that’s like a thread running through everything.”

“What’s that?”

“I know nothing of my family history. My greatgrandfather built the house I now own, and I don’t know the first thing about him, or about anyone else who ever lived
there over the years. I want to know them. I want to know what I’m really made of. The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

Will chuckled. “Good and bad, maybe. Ugly? Never.”

I felt my cheeks heat up. “Will, seriously.”

“Seriously, I suspect you’ll find a little of all three.” Will leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. “That’s how family histories usually go. I’m sure you’ll find it all at the house. There’ll be boxes of old photos and other family memorabilia stashed somewhere.”

I nodded. “Henry has already taken my bags over there. After I get settled, I’ll dive into the mystery of Julie Sutton’s death. Do you think the local police still have their records of the case?” I really had no idea what I’d do with those records, if I even got a chance to see them. The chances of finding any new information after thirty years were slim to none. Still. It was a place to start.

“I’m sure they’ve got them in some dusty file cabinet somewhere,” Will said, finishing his coffee with a slurp. “Listen, I have to get back to the office. How about dinner tonight?”

On the one hand, the thought of being alone in Madlyn’s house for the whole evening was less than appealing. But on the other, I didn’t want to give Will the wrong idea.

Seeing the hesitation in my eyes, he prodded. “There’s a great place on the other side of the island. A girl’s gotta eat.”

I caved. “Sounds good to me.” What could it hurt?

As I gathered up my purse to leave, Jonah called from behind the counter. “Did I hear you right, you’re staying awhile?”

“I am indeed,” I told him, smiling broadly. “I’m moving into the house today.”

He threw a bag of coffee beans my way. “Madlyn was a tea drinker.”

I caught the bag with a smile. “Maybe you can come over to help me drink this one day soon.”

“I’d like that,” he said.

Will threw him a look as he guided me out to the street. “I’d drive you up myself, but I’ve got some calls to make in a few minutes and they might take a while.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll call Henry to come and get you. He usually makes his way downtown around this time anyway.”

I walked with Will toward his office and was about to ask him what time he’d pick me up for dinner when I heard the familiar sound of hoofbeats.

“Henry! Right on cue.” Will waved him over. I noticed my bags were tied on top of the carriage. “This lady needs to go up to the Crane house.”

Henry pulled his horses to a stop and Will held out his hand to help me up into the carriage. “How’s six o’clock for dinner?”

“Great.” I smiled and clambered up to my seat, and Henry headed off. We were only a few blocks into the ride when he stopped the carriage, hopped down, and poked his head in the window. “I thought you might want to stop at the grocery store to get some provisions. I’ll wait here for you.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me to get groceries. “Thanks. I won’t be too long, Henry,” I said, as I hurried into the store.

I wasn’t quite sure what I needed. Yogurt, eggs, and some fruit. Peanut butter, English muffins, milk. I whipped through the store’s deli section, picking up sliced turkey, cheese, and tortillas. I threw a bag of lettuce and some blue cheese dressing
into my cart, along with a pound of hamburger, buns, and a couple of low-calorie French bread pizzas. Potato chips and onion dip. Four bottles of wine—
What the hell, I’m under stress
—and I was good to go. I could pick up more provisions later.

The feel of a hand tugging on my sleeve caused me to whirl around in surprise. It was a woman in her early seventies, with curly gray hair and kind brown eyes.

“Is it true?” she asked.

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, ma’am,” I said to her quietly. “But if you’re asking if I’m the daughter of Noah and Madlyn Crane, the answer is yes. My name is Hallie James.”

She shook her head violently, the kindness in her eyes replaced by a simmering fury. “Tell me, Halcyon, how has
your
life been these past thirty years?”

The man behind the deli counter looked up. “You okay there, Mrs. Sutton?”

Mrs. Sutton! I bit my lip and braced for the impact. “I’m . . . I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Sutton,” I stammered, “but—”

“But what?” She cut me off. “What could you possibly be intending to say to me?”

I suppose I was intending to say that my father hadn’t killed her daughter. But standing there with this sad old woman, her eyes brimming with bitter tears of rage and grief for her long-dead daughter, I was speechless.

“Was my daughter afraid when your father tried to strangle her? Did she cry out for me when he pushed her through that window?” She gripped my arm with her bony hands. I looked up and down the aisle for help, but the shopkeeper had disappeared.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sutton, but I can’t remember anything about what happened,” I told her quickly, trying in vain to free my arm from her grasp. “The first I had ever heard about your daughter’s death was yesterday. And for that matter, the first I had ever heard about this island and my whole life here was just a week before that. I believed, all my life, that my mother died in a fire in Seattle when I was five years old; that’s all I ever knew.” I said all this in one breath, hoping she would realize I wasn’t to blame for her loss.

“Well, I know different,” she spat back at me, her voice growing louder. “I know my daughter never went to a dance. She never had a boyfriend. She never went to a prom. She never fell in love and got married. She never had children. And all the while, you were alive, doing all those things, raised by the man who killed her.”

She was tightening her grip on my arm, a fierce look in her eyes. I had to get away from her immediately. I couldn’t bear to hear her grief. More than that, I felt she was a real danger to me. The woman was in a rage; there was no telling what she might do. I finally broke free of her grasp and, abandoning my cart, ran from the store. I heard her calling after me, “How dare you come back to this island? How
dare
you?”

“Thanks so much for waiting,” I managed to choke out as I got back into the carriage, my whole body shaking from the force of the encounter I had just experienced.

“No trouble at all, Halcyon.” Henry nodded as he gently snapped the reins, easing the carriage into motion. He didn’t ask about my lack of groceries; blessedly, he didn’t ask about anything at all as we clopped our way home.

When we reached the house, he took my bags from the
carriage and carried them to the front door. “She was a good girl, Madlyn was. Her father and I were friends, back then. He was our local veterinarian, you know.”

I smiled into Henry’s caring face. “No, I didn’t know that. I don’t know much about my family history, I’m afraid.”

“That’ll change, I have a feeling,” Henry said. “It’s a miracle, you being back here. She grieved for you every day of her life. It’s a pity she couldn’t have seen what a lovely woman you’ve become.”

Tears welled up and I turned my head with an embarrassed blink. “Thank you.” I nodded at him, fumbling with the keys.

“If you need anything, just holler,” he said, patting my arm. “I’m just a phone call away.”

“You’re going to be sorry you said that.”

“No, indeed. Night or day.”

I waved to him from the porch and then turned inside, pushing my bags in front of me. To hell with the Suttons. At long last, I was finally home.

T
undra and Tika greeted me like a returning hero—tails wagging, ears back, bodies wiggling round and round—but their enthusiasm did little to abate my uneasiness as I eyed the grand staircase of my childhood home, wondering how I was going to put one foot in front of the other and climb into the unknown. I hadn’t ventured up to the second and third floors last night. Why hadn’t I explored the whole house with Will by my side?

I got the distinct feeling I didn’t belong here, as if I were a trespassing teenager in danger of being caught by the ill-tempered homeowner at any moment. This was my house now, I reminded myself. Madlyn wanted me to have it.
She wanted me here
. I went from room to room on the main floor, repeating it aloud—”This is my house now; this is my house now”—as if to explain my presence to anyone who might be listening.

I stood at the foot of the stairs awhile, looking at the gleaming wood and the soft maroon of the rug running up the center.
Just do it, already.
I took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, chanting
I belong here
with each step. When I
reached the top, I found myself in a long hallway containing several doors, all of them closed.

I opened the first door gingerly, and then poked my head into each room in turn. Guest bedrooms, mostly. A guest bath at the end of the hall. The second floor of the house had the same feel as the first—cozy, warm, welcoming. Handmade quilts covered the beds; photos (I assumed they were taken by Madlyn) hung on the walls. Why had I felt so uneasy about coming up here?