Moonlight Becomes You

uncomfortable in the presence of his rival, he greeted him with minimum courtesy, although he took some comfort in knowing that neither Earl nor Liam knew of his relationship with Maggie. He and his father were introduced simply as two of her concerned friends from New York.

Bateman and Payne went to get chairs for the men, taking them from the funeral scene in the front room. The irritation was clear on Bateman’s face when they returned. He snapped at his cousin. “Liam, your shoes are muddy, and that’s a very expensive carpet. Now I’m going to have to vacuum that whole viewing room before I leave.”

Then, in an abrupt shift, he turned to the detectives. “Have you any news about the casket?” he asked.

“No, we don’t, Professor Bateman,” Brower said, “but we do have news about some other artifacts we think you own.”

“That’s ridiculous. Nothing else is missing except the catafalque,” he said. “I checked. The casket is what I want to know about. You have no idea the plans I had for it. The outdoor display I told you about. That casket was going to be part of the most important exhibit there. I’ve even ordered mannequins of horses with black plumes, and I’m having a replica built of the kind of funeral carriage the Victorians used. It will be a stunning display.”

“Earl, take it easy,” Liam Payne said soothingly. He turned to Brower. “Chief, is there any new information about Maggie Holloway?”

“No, unfortunately there isn’t,” Brower told him.

“Have you considered my suggestion that Maggie simply wanted to escape the terrible pressures of the last week and a half?”

Neil looked at Liam scornfully. “You don’t know Maggie at all,” he said. “She doesn’t try to escape problems. She faces them head on.”

Brower ignored both men and spoke to Bateman. “Professor, at this point we’re simply trying to clarify a few matters. You’re not required to answer our questions. You do understand that?”

“Why wouldn’t I answer your questions? I have nothing to hide.”

“All right. From what we understand, the bells that you had cast for your lecture on Victorians who feared being buried alive are all packed away. Is that true?”

The anger was clear on Earl Bateman’s face. “I simply will not go into that Latham Manor incident again,” he said sharply. “I’ve told you that.”

“I understand. But will you answer the question, please?”

“Yes. I packed the bells away. Yes.”

Brower nodded to Haggerty who opened the shoe box. “Professor, Mr. Stephens found these bells in Maggie Holloway’s home. Are they similar to the ones you have?”

Bateman paled. He picked up one of the bells and examined it minutely. “That woman is a thief!” he exploded. “She must have come back here and stolen these last night.”

He jumped up and ran down the hall and up the stairs, the others following him. On the third floor, he threw open the door of the storeroom and hurried to a shelf on the right-hand wall. Reaching up, he yanked at a box that was wedged between two others and pulled it out.

“It’s too light. I can tell already,” he muttered, “some of them are missing.” He rifled through the protective plastic popcorn until he had satisfied himself as to the carton’s contents.

Turning to the five men standing behind him, his face a deep crimson, his eyes blazing, he said, “There are only five of them here. Seven are missing! That woman must have stolen them. No wonder she kept harping on them yesterday.”

Neil shook his head in dismay. This guy is crazy, he said to himself. He really believes what he’s saying.

“Professor Bateman, I must ask you to accompany me to police headquarters,” Brower said, his tone formal. “I have to inform you that you are now a suspect in the disappearance of Maggie Holloway. You have a right to remain silent-”

“You can forget your damned Miranda warning,” Earl shouted. “Maggie Holloway sneaked back in here, stole my bells -and maybe even my casket-and you blame me? Ridiculous! I think you should be looking for the person who helped her. She never did this alone.”

Neil grabbed the lapels of Bateman’s coat. “Shut up,” he shouted. “You know damn well Maggie never took that stuff. Wherever she found the two bells she had, they meant something mighty significant to her. And you answer me something. Some kids saw a hearse and Maggie’s station wagon leave here around ten o’clock last night. Which one were you driving?”

“You shut up, Neil,” Brower ordered.

Neil saw the anger on the police chief’s face as Robert Stephens yanked him away from Earl Bateman.

I don’t give a damn, he thought. This is no time to tiptoe around this liar.

“You mean my hearse?” Bateman asked. “That’s impossible. It’s in the garage.”

More rapidly than he had ascended the stairs, Bateman rushed down them and directly outside to the garage. He yanked up the door and ran inside, closely followed by the other men.

“Someone did use it,” he exclaimed, peering through the vehicle’s window. “Look at it. There’s dirt on the carpet!”

Neil wanted to throttle the man, to beat the truth from him. How had he gotten Maggie to follow him in that hearse? Or was someone else driving her car?

Liam Payne took his cousin’s arm. “Earl, it’s going to be all right. I’ll go with you to headquarters. I’ll call a lawyer.”

Neil and his father refused to go home. They sat in a waiting area at the police station. From time to time, Detective Haggerty joined them. “The guy has refused a lawyer; he’s answering everything. He insists that he was in Providence last night and can prove it with phone calls he made from his apartment during the evening. At this point, we simply can’t hold him.”

“But we know he’s done something to Maggie,” Neil protested. “He’s got to help us find her!”

Haggerty shook his head. “He’s more worried about his casket and the dirt in that old hearse than he is about Ms. Holloway. His scenario is that she brought someone with her to steal the casket and bells, someone who drove the casket away in the hearse. The ignition key was in clear sight on a hook in the office. In a few minutes, his cousin is going to take him back to the museum to pick up his car.”

“You can’t let him go,” Neil protested.

“We can’t not let him go,” Haggerty said.

The detective hesitated, then said, “This will come out anyhow, and it’s something you’d be interested in knowing. You know we also are looking into accusations of improprieties at Latham Manor, thanks to the suicide note of that lawyer who killed himself. While we were out, the chief got a message. He’d made it top priority to find out who really owns Latham Manor. Guess who does? None other than Bateman’s cousin, Mr. Liam Moore Payne.”

Haggerty looked around cautiously as though afraid Payne would appear behind him. “I guess he’s still inside. He insisted on staying with his cousin during the questioning. We asked him about owning Latham. Readily admitted it. Says it’s a sound investment. But apparently he doesn’t want it known that he owns the place. Says that if people knew, he’d have the residents calling him with complaints or requests for favors. That kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?”

It was nearly eight o’clock when Robert Stephens turned to his son. “Come on, Neil, we’d better get home,” he urged.

Their car was parked across the street from police headquarters. As soon as Stephens turned the ignition key, the phone rang. Neil answered it.

It was Dolores Stephens. She had gone home when they left for the museum. “Any word about Maggie?” she asked anxiously.

“No, Mom. We’ll be home soon, I guess.”

“Neil, I just received a phone call from a Mrs. Sarah Cushing. She said that her mother, Mrs. Bainbridge, is a resident at Latham Manor, and that you were talking to her today.”

“That’s right.” Neil felt his interest quicken.

“Mrs. Cushing’s mother remembered something that she thought might be important and called her daughter, who looked up our number trying to track you down. Mrs. Bainbridge said that Maggie mentioned something about a