“Thank you,” Walter said as he opened the envelope and removed a single piece of paper. He scanned it, then cleared his throat and began reading.
Dear Walter:
Since your father and I divorced I’ve been looking for a man who understands me and loves me for who I am. I’ve found that man in Bergen Faust. I know this will come as a surprise, but I want you to know that we are very much in love.
Bergen and I are going away to spend some time together alone. We don’t even know where we’re going. We’re just getting a car and driving where our hearts take us. But don’t worry, we won’t do anything foolish. I’ll let you know in a few days where we are.
Love,
Mom
“Well, that explains that,” Enid said.
“It does not!” said Jane. “It’s obviously a forgery!”
Walter held the letter up. “It’s her handwriting,” he said.
“They made her write it,” Jane insisted.
“Jane, you know as well as I do that nobody makes my mother do anything she doesn’t want to do,” Walter said.
“I think you should apologize to Suzu,” said Genevieve.
Suzu stood up. “There’s no need,” she said. “Jane meant no offense, I’m sure.”
“She accused you of being a murderer,” said Enid.
“Jane is a writer,” Suzu said, her voice still soft and light. “Perhaps her imagination simply ran away with her.”
Everyone looked at Jane. She felt the weight of their stares. Suzu was lying. She
She was beaten.
“Yes,” she said. “Perhaps it did. I’m very sorry.”
Suzu touched her arm gently. “We won’t speak of it again.”
She left the room. Jane, not knowing what else to do, went and sat down beside Walter. “I feel like such a fool,” she said.
“Can hardly blame you for that,” said Brodie, who was seated across from her. “But it was very entertaining.”
“And you weren’t wrong about all of us having reasons for wanting Ryan dead,” Sam added kindly.
“Especially you, eh, Chumsley?” Brodie called out. He chuckled. “Who knew you had it in you, you old dog?”
“Yes,” Chumsley said. “Well.” He glanced at Enid, who glared at him and stomped out of the room.
“At least we know where my mother is,” said Walter. “Well, sort of.”
“But
“I’m just happy she’s found someone,” said Walter.
Jane wanted to shake him and ask him if he really thought Miriam would run off with someone like Bergen. But she didn’t. She’d caused enough trouble for one morning. She was surprised any of them were speaking to her at all, especially after she’d aired their dirty laundry. Walter looked at his watch. “We’re supposed to meet in front of the hotel in fifteen minutes to go to today’s house,” he said.
“I don’t think anyone wants me to come,” Jane said.
Walter smiled. “I do,” he said. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Jane didn’t want to. In fact, it was the last thing she wanted to do. Not only would she have to be around all of the people in front of whom she’d embarrassed herself, she would have to be around Suzu. Now that her suspicions about the woman were confirmed, she was determined to find out who she was and why she was so anxious to get her hands on Crispin’s Needle. She couldn’t do that if Suzu was watching her.
She smiled at Walter. “I can’t imagine anything better than spending the day with you,” she said. “I’ll go get my coat.”
Chapter 23
Thursday: Geneva
The Peugeot hugged the curve of the road as Walter accelerated, causing the car to shoot forward when it came to the straightaway. Jane, looking out the window, watched as the mountains opened up and the car descended into the Val d’Aosta. The late afternoon sun had burned away most of the fog, and the glacier-fed waters of the Dora Baltea turned it into a silvery ribbon that wound back and forth across the landscape.
A bus had been arranged to take the group from Venice to Geneva, but Walter had suggested to Jane that they rent a car and drive on their own. That way they would be able to stop if they wanted to. Also, it would give them some time alone.
It was the time alone that worried Jane. Following the debacle of her unmasking of Ryan McGuinness’s murderer, she might be expected to relish being away from those she had offended, amused, or both. But being alone with Walter was also problematic, as it meant she couldn’t avoid discussing either her seemingly erratic behavior or his mother’s disappearance.
They had discussed the latter subject during the first two hours of the trip. Walter accepted the explanation —provided by the letter allegedly written by Miriam and left for him at the desk of the Byron Hotel—that his mother had run off with Bergen Faust, and Jane chose not to disabuse him of this notion. Things were actually made easier for her by Walter’s belief that his mother was simply off on a romantic adventure, as it gave Jane more time to figure out her next move.
The second two hours of the journey had been spent talking about the scenery, the various buildings they’d seen, and the charms of European cities in general. Now, as the final third of the trip began, Jane felt it was time to address the topic they had both been avoiding.
“You’re probably wondering what got into me this morning,” she began.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Walter said.
“Oh, good,” said Jane. “Then just forget I said anything.”
Walter laughed. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll let me off that easy.”
“Excuse me,” Jane said. “But
“And I’m the one who has to listen to it,” said Walter.
Jane wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or offended by his tone, but she chose to believe that Walter was joking with her. This made her want to be open and honest with him, and so she decided to be as truthful as she could be.
“It’s all Lucy’s fault,” she said, her resolve crumbling before the first word had left her mouth. “She had me thinking all kinds of crazy things. You know how she is.”
“Uh-huh,” Walter said.
“What?” said Jane.
“Lucy had
“What are you implying?” Jane asked.
“I’m implying that you’re the one whose imagination occasionally gets the better of her,” said Walter.
“It does not!” Jane objected. A moment later she said, “Well, perhaps once or twice.”
