A Killer Clue, page 5
“That makes sense,” I said. High Point was well known for its furniture stores and the annual Furniture Mart, and selling antiques and other collectibles would tie in with that.
“Art and antiques are their focus,” Cam said, “but they sometimes dabble in rare books. Apparently, there were some contentious bidding wars that took place between the Andersons and the Bentons.”
“Contentious enough to lead to murder?” I asked, not bothering to mask the skepticism in my tone.
Cam shrugged. “Who knows. Anyway, they’re still in business, so I asked Lauren to set up a meeting with Gloria’s son, David.”
“To do what?” I met Cam’s intent gaze with a little shake of my head. “Question them about the Anderson case?”
“Not directly. I simply want to get a sense of how they do business.”
“Which means David Benton will come to this meeting assuming you want them to acquire antiques or rare books for you?” Grabbing my briefcase and purse off the floor, I slung both straps over my shoulder. “Are you going to inquire about a book he might have to find on the black market, just to observe how he reacts?”
Cam lifted his hands. “You see, this is why we work so well together. We think alike.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said, rising to my feet. “Maybe I’ve just learned how your mind works.”
Cam stood to face me. “Good. Perhaps someday you can explain it to me.”
Chapter Nine
I drove to Donna’s condo on Saturday, hopeful that my visit would provide the opportunity to uncover more details about Calvin Airley as well as the mystery woman in the photo and drawing.
Donna lived in a wooded condo complex not far from Old Salem, a village that preserved the history of the Moravians who’d settled the area in the mid-eighteenth century. Like Williamsburg, Old Salem included private homes as well as restored and reconstructed buildings owned by the Old Salem corporation. The public areas were staffed by living-history interpreters, who provided visitors a taste of Moravian life in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The area also encompassed some independent institutions, like Salem Academy and College and Home Moravian Church. Near the church, which was founded in 1771, was an expansive Moravian cemetery called God’s Acre, where an Easter sunrise service was held each year, complete with traditional brass bands.
Since she lived close enough to walk to the site, I’d taken several strolls with Donna and Vince in Old Salem. It was a charming place, its brick sidewalks shaded by old-growth trees. We particularly enjoyed walking outside of the tourist area, where there were no crowds and plenty of lovely vintage homes and gardens. I doubted that we’d do any walking today, though. Donna had told me that Ruth, who was in her late seventies, was not in the best of health.
Parking in front of Donna’s ground-level condo, I peeked in my rearview mirror to make sure my short hair was tidy and that I didn’t have any lipstick on my teeth. Satisfied that I looked acceptable, I walked up to Donna’s front door and rang the bell.
She greeted me with a bright smile and ushered me into her unit, which she’d decorated in a style that evoked a country cottage. White kitchen cabinets, window curtains, and trim provided a bright backdrop to various shades of blue as well as yellow decorative accents.
Donna introduced me to Ruth Young, who was seated in a sapphire-fabric armchair facing the sky-blue sofa.
“Hello,” I said, sitting down on the sofa. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
Ruth’s black eyes sparkled in her lined face. Her white hair, cropped close to her scalp, provided a vivid contrast to her dark skin. She was a petite woman who appeared to be slightly hunched over in her chair.
“Excuse me if I don’t jump up to greet you. Rheumatoid arthritis,” she said, holding up her gnarled hands. “Dreadful disease. They’ve made some progress on new drugs, but not until after my joints were already in bad shape.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I said.
“Well, nothing to be done.” Ruth placed her hands in her lap. “At least I can still get around with a cane. The worst of it is my hands.”
“Which is a real shame,” Donna said, giving me a sidelong glance as she sat at the other end of the sofa. “Ruth was an extremely talented quilter when she was a bit younger. That’s how we met, at the quilting circle at church.”
Ruth nodded. “I do miss that. Sometimes I go to the meetings just for the companionship, but of course I’m no use with a needle these days.”
“But she still contributes. We make the quilts for shelters, you see. Ruth might not be sewing with us now, but she supplies us with some lovely fabric scraps from time to time,” Donna said.
“Least I can do.” Ruth turned her bright gaze on me. “Now Jane, I understand you’re interested in the years I spent at Aircroft, when my mama was the housekeeper there.”
I leaned forward. “Very interested. My boss, Cameron Clewe, wants to eventually develop some sort of history of the estate. He’s thinking something that could be posted online, on a website featuring Aircroft.” This white lie was not so far from possibility that I had any trouble delivering it.
Donna cleared her throat. “Anyway, we’re interested in any of your recollections. As you know, Vince has been working on a book about the Airley family for some time.”
“I do indeed,” Ruth said with an audible sniff. “He’s bound and determined to prove poor Calvin Airley was murdered, isn’t he?” She shook her head. “Now I don’t know what really happened, but dredging up that tragedy after all these years just seems hurtful to me.”
“All that aside, I think Jane is really more interested in your impressions of the family and what it was like to live at Aircroft back in the fifties. That is when you and your mom were there, right?”
“Yes, 1950 to 1957.” Ruth lowered her lashes over her eyes, as if focusing inward, on her memories. “But you have to remember I was just a child. When we arrived at Aircroft I was four, and I was only eleven when we left.”
“Why did you leave?” I asked, ignoring the sharp glance Donna threw my way. “Was there any trouble between your mom and the Airleys?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” Ruth said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You may have heard that Mr. and Mrs. Airley closed down the estate for a spell after Calvin died. During that time Mama got another job offer. It was at a prominent doctor’s home situated close to our extended family. Mama needed the money—she couldn’t wait out the Airleys indefinitely—and she also thought it would be good for me to spend more time around my cousins and other relatives.”
“I see. And when was that, exactly?” I asked.
“Not long after Calvin died, so in 1957. We heard about it, of course, and rushed back from my grandma’s funeral, just so we could attend Calvin’s service.” Ruth looked up, sorrow shadowing her eyes. “It was a terribly sad affair.”
“I imagine so. Those poor parents—to lose their only child must’ve been so tragic,” Donna said, her voice brimming with sympathy.
“Calvin was a nice boy,” Ruth said. “Always pleasant to me, anyway. Mr. and Mrs. Airley were very distant. They sort of looked over my head without seeing me, if you know what I mean. But Calvin would stop and talk to me, especially when I was out playing in the gardens. He was an amateur naturalist, you know.”
“Really? I didn’t realize that,” I said.
“Oh yes. He was always outside, studying plants and butterflies and things like that.” Ruth grimaced. “That’s how they think he slipped off that ledge.”
“Where did that happen? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the actual spot.”
“Behind the wilder part of the gardens and across a meadow. There’s an old quarry back there. Something that had been dug out to access building stone before the Airleys bought the land. It was partially filled in when I was a child, but I still remember all of Mama’s warnings.” Ruth smiled, obviously recalling her mom. “She said she’d whup me good if I ever did so much as cross that meadow.”
“So did you?” Donna gave Ruth a wink.
Ruth grinned. “Of course. I was something of a hellion back then. But only once. Calvin caught me messing around the edge of the cliff and read me the riot act. Told me it was a good way to get killed; that he’d done some climbing in the area but you had to know what you were doing and use ropes and such. He was very firm with me, and I could see how serious he was. Said he wouldn’t tell Mama, though. And he didn’t, bless his heart.”
“But he went out in the rain, when the ground was muddy, and slipped off the edge,” I said, more to myself than the others.
Ruth fixed me with a fierce stare. “So they say.”
“You don’t believe it?” I asked, widening my eyes.
“Not sure what happened.” Ruth sat back in her chair. “I wasn’t there and don’t care to speculate.”
“I understand. And really, I wouldn’t expect you to know that. But there is something else, totally unrelated, that you may be able to help me with.” I grabbed my purse from the floor and set it in my lap. “The thing is, when I was doing some research for Mr. Clewe, I discovered an unlabeled photo of a young woman tucked in among the Airley family photographs. I’ve shown it around, and even Vince with all his research”—I cast Donna a sidelong glance—“doesn’t know who it is. She’s a mystery to everyone.”
“There were many young ladies coming and going when I lived at Aircroft.” Ruth narrowed her eyes. “Lots of parties and that sort of thing. It used to make tons of work for Mama, especially after they all left. Far too much clean-up after those young people.”
“Vince claims the Airleys wanted Calvin to marry well,” Donna said, as I pulled the copied photo of the younger version of our mystery woman from my purse.
“Oh yes. Calvin’s parents were hell-bent on introducing him to the daughters of their business acquaintances and other fine young misses. But he was having none of it.” Ruth’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “He was always looking to escape those events. Used to hide out in the kitchen storeroom or other places the guests wouldn’t look. I found him a couple of times, but he always swore me to secrecy.” Ruth lifted her chin. “I never betrayed him. I could tell he didn’t much like those parties, or the girls who were chasing him. He said they just wanted his money, which was probably mostly true.”
“What about this young woman?” Rising to my feet, I crossed to Ruth’s chair and handed her the copy of the photo. “Do you remember ever seeing her at Aircroft?”
Ruth’s hands shook slightly as she held the picture closer to her face. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t know such a thing existed.” As she looked up at me, her fingers lost their grip and she dropped the photo into her lap. “Yes, I recognize her. That’s Calvin’s girl. That’s Lily.”
Chapter Ten
My face flushing with excitement, I stepped closer to Ruth’s chair. “Lily who?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. I never heard her surname spoken,” Ruth said, pressing her back into the chair cushions.
I stepped back. “But you’re sure her first name was Lily?”
“Absolutely. I was actually introduced to her by Calvin. He trusted me, you see, just like I trusted him. He knew I wouldn’t tell his parents, or even my mama, about his many rendezvous with Lily.”
“They were meeting in secret? Such a romantic story.” Donna’s audible sigh made me smile.
But only for a moment. “Yes, but this story didn’t end well,” I said, thinking of Calvin’s death and the disappearance of his true love.
“No, it certainly didn’t.” Ruth held up the picture. “I was so upset when I heard about Calvin’s death. It seemed so senseless. I did try to find out where Lily went, but I could never get anyone in the general area to admit to knowing her.”
“But surely she would’ve had to live around here, wouldn’t she? How would Calvin have met her, otherwise?” I asked as I took the copied photo from her.
“I don’t know where they met, or how, but I suspect Lily was working somewhere in the area. Restaurant or retail store or something like that. She once mentioned she had family living around here, but said she wasn’t in touch with them much and that she lived on her own. Then again, she wasn’t so very young. More like late twenties, close to Calvin’s age,” Ruth said.
As I crossed back to the sofa to extract the second copied photo from my purse, Donna stood up. “Heavens, I’ve been the worst hostess. Would either of you like coffee or tea or anything?”
Ruth cast her a warm smile. “No harm done. I knew you were both anxious to question me about the past. But a little water would be good.”
“Nothing for me,” I said, as Donna walked into her open kitchen. Carrying the second picture back to Ruth’s chair, I held it out so she could see it. “I found this tucked into one of Patricia Clewe’s old sketchbooks. It looks like the same woman, only quite a bit older.”
Ruth leaned forward to peer at the paper. “It does look like Lily. Did Patricia Clewe draw this?”
“Yes. She even signed it,” I said, pointing to the lower right corner.
“Well, I’ll be.” Ruth straightened and gazed up at me, her eyebrows drawn in over her nose. “Now why would Lily have returned to Aircroft as an older woman? Calvin was long gone and the Airleys hadn’t lived there for years.”
“Maybe Patricia Clewe didn’t draw this sketch at the estate. She could’ve been working at a studio somewhere, and Lily whoever was just an available model,” Donna said as she hurried over with a glass of water. She set it on a small table next to Ruth’s chair before returning to her own seat on the sofa.
Ruth shook her head. “Doubtful. I never met Pat Clewe, but I know she didn’t get out much. Her health wasn’t too good, or so I heard.”
“That’s true.” I folded the copy of the picture as I strolled back to the sofa.
“Did you notice the date?” Ruth asked. “Scribbled under the signature. Looked like just a flourish at first, but I think it’s a year.”
I plopped down on the sofa and examined my copy of the drawing. Sure enough, under the artist’s name was another scribble. I squinted at it, finally making out what it was. “1989,” I said. “Funny how I never saw that before.”
“You were concentrating on her face, I bet.” Donna tapped her chin with one finger. “If I’m remembering things correctly, that was the year Cameron Clewe was born.”
I calculated back from Cam’s age in my head. “That would be right.”
“Stuff rubs off from Vince talking about his research. And talking, and talking …” Donna flashed a grin.
“Is there anything else you can recall about Lily?” I asked, turning back to Ruth.
Holding her glass with both hands, Ruth took a few sips of water. “Just that she was very nice to me. Didn’t talk down, even though I was a kid. And I could tell that Calvin was madly in love with her. I might’ve only been ten or eleven, but I could tell.” Ruth set her water glass down with a frown. “She didn’t attend Calvin’s funeral. Leastwise, I didn’t see her there.”
“Was Calvin buried at Aircroft?” Donna asked. “I know some of those big estates have their own family plots.”
“No, at the local Episcopal church cemetery,” Ruth said. “His mother and father were eventually buried there too. Fancy gravestone with an angel statue. You can’t miss it.”
“I’ll have to check that out,” I said. As I slipped the folded picture back into my purse, my cell phone vibrated against my hand. I pulled it out and checked the screen. “Uh-oh, that’s Cam. I’d better take this.”
Donna motioned toward her sliding patio doors. “Feel free to step outside if you want a little privacy.”
I nodded my thanks, answering the call while I pushed open the doors wide enough to slip out onto the small flagstone patio. “Hello, Cam. What’s up?” I asked, over the squeal of the doors as I pulled them shut.
“Eloise has been arrested,” he said.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Very.” I could hear Cam’s fingers tapping the side of his phone. “She’s to be arraigned Monday. The lawyer I asked to represent her thinks she may make bail, but it will be a significant amount.”
I touched my fingertip to the velvety pink petal of one of the potted roses that flanked the patio. “Are you paying for this lawyer?”
“Yes.” Cam cleared his throat. “I told Eloise she could eventually repay me, but I don’t plan to press for the money. A few rare books will settle the account.”
“That sounds fair.” I leaned forward to breathe in the spicy-sweet scent of the roses. “And are you paying her bail, regardless of how expensive it is?”
“Yes.” I could hear the determination in Cam’s voice. “I also intend to ask her to stay at Aircroft while she awaits trial. The lawyer told me she can’t leave the state, but just traveling to the Winston-Salem area wouldn’t be a problem. Especially if I vouch for her.”
“Now that sounds tricky. Very nice of you, but possibly dangerous. What if she flees Aircroft and goes on the lam? That could make trouble for you.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Cam said shortly. “Besides, Eloise won’t go on the run. She owns a family business. She isn’t going to abandon the bookshop.”
“I don’t know. All this kind of makes it look like …”
“Like what?” Cam’s tone grew frosty.
“That maybe you two are more than just friends. Which might not really help her case, if you plan to be a character witness.”
“That’s ridiculous. I want to help someone I respect, and who I believe to be innocent. That’s all.”
“If you say so,” I replied, realizing switching the subject might be a smart move. “By the way, I’m at Donna Valenti’s home, speaking with an older friend of hers who lived at Aircroft back when Calvin Airley was still alive. She’s actually told us the first name of our mystery woman.”
