Latham Manor was to be one of Prestige’s franchised residences, as opposed to fully owned and operated; but they had agreed to meet with him, and then later had submitted his resume to the franchiser. Remarkably, he got the job.
All thanks to Odile, as she constantly reminded him, he thought bitterly.
He knew that the slipup last night was a sign the pressure was getting to him. The orders to keep those apartments filled; don’t let them pass a month unsold. Always the implied threat of being let go if he didn’t perform.
After the last incident, Odile had told him that if she saw him drunk even once, she was leaving.
As enticing as the prospect was, he couldn’t let that happen. The truth was he needed her.
Why hadn’t she stayed in Boston last night? he thought.
Because she suspected that he was panicking, he reasoned.
She was right, of course. He had been in a state of terror ever since he learned that Maggie Holloway had been looking for a sketch Nuala Moore had made that showed Nurse Markey eavesdropping.
He should have found a way to get rid of that woman long ago, but Prestige had sent her, and in most respects she was a good nurse. Certainly many of the residents valued her. In fact, he sometimes wondered if she wasn’t
Well, whatever was going on between him and Odile, Dr. Lane knew he had to go over to the residence and make his morning rounds.
He found his wife drinking coffee in the kitchen. Uncharacteristically she hadn’t bothered to put on even a minimum of makeup this morning. She looked drawn and tired.
“Zelda Markey just phoned,” she told him, an angry glint in her eye. “The police have asked her to be available for questioning. She doesn’t know why.”
“For
“She also told me that Sarah Cushing gave strict orders that neither she nor you was to enter her mother’s room. It seems that Mrs. Bainbridge isn’t well, and Mrs. Cushing is making arrangements to transfer her immediately to the hospital.”
Odile looked at him accusingly. “You were supposed to be rushing home to see Mrs. Bainbridge last night. Not that you’d have been allowed anywhere near her, but I hear you didn’t show up at the residence till nearly eleven. What were you
77
Neil and Robert Stephens drove to the remote road where Maggie’s station wagon was still parked. Now it was surrounded with police tape, and as they got out of their car they could hear the yapping of search dogs in the nearby woods.
Neither man had spoken since they left the police station. Neil used the time to think through all he knew so far. It amounted to very little, he realized, and the longer he felt in the dark, the more frustrated he became.
It was good, even essential, to have the understanding presence of his father, he realized. Something I didn’t give to Maggie, he told himself bitterly.
Through the heavy woods and thick foliage, he could make out the figures of at least a dozen people. Policemen or volunteers? he wondered. He knew they had found nothing so far, so the search had spread out over a wider area. In despair, he realized that they were expecting to find Maggie’s body.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and bowed his head. Finally he broke the silence. “She can’t be dead,” he said. “I’d know it if she were dead.”
“Neil, let’s go,” his father said quietly. “I don’t even know why we came out here. Standing around here isn’t helping Maggie.”
“What do you suggest I do?” Neil asked, anger and frustration showing in his voice.
“From what Chief Brower said, the police haven’t spoken to this guy Hansen yet, but they found out he’s expected at his office in Providence around noon. At this point they consider him small potatoes. They’ll turn over the fraud information Norton left with his note to the district attorney. But it wouldn’t hurt for us to be at Hansen’s office when he comes in.”
“Dad, you can’t expect me to worry about stock deals now,” Neil said angrily.
“No, and at this moment I’m not worried about them either. But you did authorize the sale of fifty thousand shares of stock that Cora Gebhart didn’t own. You certainly have a right to go to Hansen’s office and demand some answers,” Robert Stephens urged.
He looked into his son’s face. “Don’t you see what I’m driving at? Something made Maggie mighty uneasy about Hansen. I don’t think it’s just a coincidence that he’s the guy who fronted an offer on her house. You can get him on the defensive about the stocks. But the real reason I want to see him right away is to try and find out if he knows anything at all about Maggie’s disappearance.”
When Neil continued to shake his head, Robert Stephens pointed to the woods. “If you believe Maggie’s body is lying out there somewhere, then go join the search. I happen to hope-to believe-that she’s still alive, and if she is, I bet her abductor didn’t leave her in the vicinity of the car.” He turned to leave. “Get a ride from someone else. I’m going to Providence to see Hansen.”
He got into the car and slammed the door. As he was turning the ignition key, Neil jumped in on the passenger side.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I don’t know where we’ll find her, but it won’t be here.”
78
At 11:30, Earl Bateman was waiting for Chief Brower and Detective Haggerty on the porch of his funeral museum.
“The casket was here yesterday afternoon,” Bateman said heatedly. “I know, because I gave a tour of the place, and I remember pointing it out. I can’t believe anyone would have the insolence to desecrate an important collection like this just as a prank. Every single object in my museum was purchased only after meticulous research.
“Halloween is coming,” he continued, as he nervously thumped his right hand on his left palm. “I’m positive a bunch of kids pulled this stunt. And I can tell you right now that if that’s what happened, I
“Professor Bateman, why don’t we go inside and talk about it?” Brower said.
“Of course. Actually I may have a picture of the casket in my office. It’s an item of particular interest, and, in fact, I’ve been planning to make it the focal point of a new exhibit when I expand the museum. Come this way.”
The two policemen followed him through the foyer, past the life-sized figure dressed in black, to what obviously had been the kitchen. A sink, refrigerator, and stove still lined the far wall. Legal-size files were under the back windows. An immense old-fashioned desk stood in the center of the room, its surface covered with blueprints and sketches.
“I’m planning an outdoor exhibit,” Bateman told them. “I have some property nearby that will make a wonderful site. Go ahead, sit down. I’ll try to find that picture.”
He’s awfully worked up, Jim Haggerty thought. I wonder if he was this agitated when they threw him out of Latham Manor that time? Maybe he
“Why don’t we just ask you a few questions before you look for the picture,” Brower suggested.
“Oh, all right.” Bateman yanked out the desk chair and sat down.
Haggerty took out his notebook.
“Was anything else taken, Professor Bateman?” Brower asked.
