dozens of perhapses as to who this poor woman was, so that we can whittle it down to the right answer. Do you think, when we do, she’ll have peace?”
“I don’t know the answer to that. Why are you so sad? It rips me to see you so sad.”
“I’m not entirely sure. This is what happened today,” she said, and told him.
“I was so afraid.” She took a long breath. “I was afraid the night she locked us out of the children’s room, and when you and I came in from the terrace and she had that fit of temper, tossing things around. I was afraid that night in the tub, when she held me under. I thought I wouldn’t be that afraid again. But today, today when I stood there watching her walk toward me over the field, through the fog, I was petrified. I saw her face, the madness in it, a kind of insane purpose. The sort, I think now, that overcomes even death.”
She gave herself a little shake. “I know how that sounds, but I think that’s what she’s done, somehow. She’s overcome death with madness, and she can’t break free.”
“She didn’t touch you this time. She didn’t hurt you?”
Roz shook her head. “Not even at the peak of her rage. I couldn’t breathe—felt like I was drawing in dirt, but part of that might’ve been sheer panic on my part. She spoke of killing, bathing in blood. There’s never been any talk of murder in this house, but I wonder—oh, God, could they have killed her? One of my family?”
“She was the one talking of doing murder,” he reminded her, “not of being murdered.”
“True, but you can’t trust a crazy woman to have all the facts straight. She said I was her blood. Whether it’s true or not, she believes it.” She took a deep breath. “So do you.”
He got up from the desk to come around to her. Taking her hands, he drew her out of the chair and into his arms. “What do you believe?”
Comfort, she thought as she rested her head on his shoulder. There could be such comfort in a man if you allowed yourself to take it. “She has my father’s eyes. I saw it at the end today. I’ve never seen it before, maybe never let myself. Did he take her child, Mitch, my great-grandfather? Could he have been so cold?”
“If all this is fact, she could have given the baby up. They might have had an arrangement, and she came to regret it. There are still a lot of possibilities.”
“I want to know the truth now. Have to know it, whatever it takes.”
She drew back, managed a smile. “Just how the hell do we go about finding a woman who may have been my great-grandfather’s lover?”
“We have a first name, an approximate age, and we assume she lived in the Memphis area. We start with that.”
“Is that natural optimism, or are you trying to smooth my feathers?”
“Some of both.”
“All right, then. I’m going to go pour myself a glass of wine. Do you want anything?”
“I could use about a gallon of water to offset the five gallons of coffee I’d downed today. I’ll come with you.” He draped an arm around her shoulders as they walked to the kitchen.
“I might have to put this aside until after Stella and Logan’s wedding. It’s snuck right up on me. Seems to me, however demanding the dead may be, the living ought to have priority.” She got out a bottle of water and a fresh lemon. “I can’t believe those boys aren’t going to be part of the household in a few more days.”
She poured and sliced, then offered him the glass.
“Thanks. I think they’ll be around enough you’ll feel like they are.”
“I like to think.” She poured her wine, but the phone rang before she took the first sip. “Where is David anyway?” she asked, and answered herself.
She listened for a moment, then smiled slowly at Mitch. “Hello, Jane,” she said and lifted her wine in a toast.
“THIS IS SOexciting. It’s like a spy thriller or something.” Hayley bounced on her toes as she, Roz, and Stella rode the elevator up to Clarise Harper’s apartment. “I mean, we spend the morning getting manicures and pedicures, and the afternoon sneaking around to hunt up secret documents. It’s totally glamorous.”
“Say that later if we’re arrested and spending the night in jail with Big Bertha,” Stella suggested. “If Logan has to marry me through jailhouse bars tomorrow, I’m going to be royally pissed.”
“I told you not to come,” Roz reminded her.
“And miss this?” After a bracing breath, Stella stepped off the elevator. “I may be fussy, but I’m no coward. Besides, Hayley has a point. It is exciting.”
“Going into a crabby old woman’s overfurnished apartment and taking away what’s rightfully mine—along with a scared little rabbit—doesn’t strike me as exciting. Jane could have gotten them out herself, saved us the trip. There’s enough to do with the wedding tomorrow.”
“I know, and I appreciate, so much, you giving us the day off so we could primp.” On impulse, Stella kissed Roz’s cheek. “We’ll work twice as hard after the wedding to make up for it.”
“You might just have to. Now just pray the old ghoul is out getting her hair permed, as advertised, or this will be ugly.”
“Don’t you sort of hope it is?” Hayley began, but the door creaked open. Jane peeked out through the crack.
“I . . . I didn’t expect anyone but you, Cousin Rosalind. I don’t know if we should—”
“They work for me. They’re friends.” With no patience for dithering or ado, Roz nudged the door open, stepped inside. “Jane, this is Stella and Hayley. Jane, did you pack all your things?”
“Yes, there isn’t much. But I’ve been thinking, she’s going to be so upset when she gets home and finds me gone. I don’t know if I should—”
“This place is as horrible as ever,” Roz observed. “Positively reeks of lavender. How do you stand it? That’s one of our Dresden shepherdesses there, and that Meissan cat, and . . . screw it. Where are the diaries?”
“I didn’t get them out. I didn’t feel right—”
“Fine. Give me the key, show me where, and I’ll get them. Let’s not waste time, Jane,” Roz added when the girl simply stood biting her bottom lip. “You have a new apartment waiting, a new job starting bright and early Monday morning. You can take them or leave them, your choice. But I’m not leaving this lavender-stinking apartment without what’s mine by right. So you can give me the key, or I’ll just start tossing things around until I find what I’m after.”
“Oh, God. I feel sick.” Jane dug into her pocket, pulled out an ornate brass key. “The desk in her room, top drawer.” Pale as glass, she gestured vaguely. “I’m dizzy.”
“Snap out of it,” Roz suggested. “Stella, why don’t you help Jane get her things?”
“Sure. Come on, Jane.”
Trusting Stella to deal with the situation, Roz turned to Hayley. “Watch the door,” she ordered.
“Oh, boy, hot damn. Lookout man.”
Despite herself, Roz chuckled all the way into Clarise’s bedroom. There was more lavender here, with an undertone of violets. The bed had a padded headboard of gold tufted silk, with an antique quilt Roz knew damn well had come out of Harper House. As had the occasional table by the window, and the art nouveau lamp.
“Pilfering old bitch,” Roz grumbled and went directly to the desk. She turned the key, and couldn’t quite hold back the gasp when she saw the stacks of old leather-bound journals.
“This is going to be a kick right in your bony ass,” she decided and, opening the satchel she carried over her shoulder, carefully slid the books inside.
To make certain she had them all, she opened the rest of the drawers, riffled without qualm through the nightstands, the bureau, the chest of drawers.
Though she felt silly, she wiped off everything she’d touched. She wouldn’t put it past Clarise to call the cops and claim burglary. Then she left the key, plainly in sight, on top of the desk.
“Stella took her down,” Hayley announced when Roz stepped out. “She was shaking so hard we thought she might have like a seizure unless she got out of here. Roz, the poor thing only had one suitcase. She got everything she owned into one suitcase.”
“She’s young. She’ll have plenty of time to get more. Did you touch anything in here?”
“No. I thought, you know, fingerprints.”
“Smart girl. Let’s go.”
“You got them?”
Roz patted the satchel. “Easy as taking candy from a baby, which Clarise has been known to do.”
