“Hal’s bitter about everything. Nothing new there.”
“Then in South Carolina I found out about his grandmother, Betsy Ross, through a routine check on his background. That was new.”
“So they were cousins,” Erin said. “What are you trying to make of this?”
“Did you know they were cousins?”
She said nothing but I sensed an answer and the answer was no.
“That might put a new light on these books.”
“I don’t see how.”
“I’ve been wondering, Lee: What kind of woman was Betsy Ross?”
“She was…” He gave a little laugh. “Oh God, she was a powerhouse. Nobody pushed Betts around, not the Archers or anybody. And she really loved her daughter.”
“From the first marriage. And I imagine she loved her daughter’s son as well.”
“Yes, she did.” He smiled. “They all said I was the apple of her eye.”
“And your mother?”
“The world’s sweetest woman. There was nobody who didn’t love her. All she lacked was Betsy’s strength.”
“What did Grandma think of her grandson on the other side?”
“Hal was always the odd man out with all of them—most of all with her. It’s not that Betts didn’t love him in her own way, she just couldn’t show it. In her eyes, he never made a right decision. He was shiftless, lazy. She had no idea how hard he really worked at what he wanted to do.”
“Cliff, you must have a point here somewhere,” Erin said. “Can we please get back to here and now?”
“Yeah, let’s do that. Only five of us knew Denise had that book. You said you went up to the mountain the next day and never told anyone. But that’s not true, is it?”
“She discussed it briefly with me,” Lee said.
“So what difference does that make?” Erin said. “I told him in confidence—what are you trying to make of it?”
“Yes, what’s your question?” Lee said.
“Did old Archer hire Treadwell to rook Josephine’s mother out of those Burton books? What happened to all those letters and papers?”
“How would I know that?”
“How would you not know it?”
“That’s a very ugly question,” Erin said.
“Yes, it is. It breaks my heart to ask it.”
A streak of impatience flashed across Lee’s face. “This almost sounds like you’re accusing me of something.”
We were all quiet now: even Koko had come over to listen, and the only sound in the room for half a minute was the ticking of the clock.
“Good God,” Lee said. “Do you think I killed that woman?”
I said nothing.
“Cliff!” he cried. “My God, Cliff! Listen to yourself!”
The moment thickened. I desperately wanted to hear something that would make the question go away. Our eyes met but he turned his head to one side.
“Lee,” I said softly.
He forced himself to look at me.
“When Grandma Betts died, the books were left to you. You alone. The old Archer men were dead: she had outlived them all, she had complete control of the estate. Young Archer was an outcast and she left everything to you: money, books, a yellow brick road to a glorious legal career. But you were always a decent guy, Lee, and I mean that. So you shared those books with Archer, gave him the two best of the lot, all under the table so the family wouldn’t hear. The problem always was, you both knew where they’d come from. It was the big dark family secret that all of you knew and no one ever discussed. You all had this common knowledge that old Archer the first had heard about the books and hired the Treadwells to buy them for next to nothing. You knew there was at least one Warren heir and when they came to you, that could have been your chance to make it right. But you let it pass and kept the books. That’s where it all started.”
I looked at Erin, expecting an objection.
“You and Archer had this conspiracy of silence. You had these wonderful books, but you couldn’t do anything with them—not as long as anyone was alive who might have even a remotely rightful claim to them. The trouble began when Archer ran dry—his bank account and his creativity, all at once. So he sent one of those Burtons to
