Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance (32 page)

Marjorie took the woman’s hands in her own. “Now think Bernice. Was there anything else occurring at that time. Anything you
can remember?”

Mrs. Nussbaum took Marjorie’s hands in her own and squeezed
with all her might. “I don’t want anything to happen to Natalie.
You do know that, don’t you Miss McClelland. It would kill me
if…”

Marjorie nodded her head solemnly. “I know it would. That’s
why you need to remember.”

Bernice nodded and took a deep breath. “Oh, I don’t know, it
was … it was right around the time of that big fire at Alchemy. The
one where that man died. Yes, that’s it. I remember I was reading about it in the paper when Natalie came down for breakfast the
next morning. She was in a terrible state.”

Marjorie’s eyes grew wide.

Mrs. Nussbaum continued her tale. “I thought she’d get over it,
but a few weeks later, Alfred left town and moved to Hartford with
Josie. I was quite distraught, as you could imagine, but Natalie was
devastated. She hated her father, she said. Hated him for what he
had done. I tried to comfort her. I explained that her father’s actions
weren’t directed toward her but toward me, but she would hear nothing of it. She went on this way for months, until finally, the day before
the murder, her mood changed dramatically. She was happy, cheerful
even. She went out shopping, or so she said. She came back later than
usual without making a single purchase. I asked her where she had
been-she answered that she had gone to see someone in the hopes
of righting her father’s wrongs. I asked her what she meant and she
just smiled and went upstairs to her room. Later that night, she went
out again … I’ve tried! Honestly, I have, but I haven’t been able to get
anything else from her.” She looked at Marjorie again. “Girls that age,
you know, are very secretive.”

Marjorie smiled sympathetically.

Bernice continued her story. “When she didn’t come home that
Friday night, I went into her room and saw that she had jotted
some things down on her desk blotter. There was a time, 11 a.m., a
location, the Ridgebury Fair, and the name of a hotel-the Hideaway Hotel. I didn’t know what to think! I wondered if she had run
off to meet some boy-she’s done it before, you know! Or worse, I
wondered if they had run off together. I don’t want Natalie falling
for the first boy who tells her that she’s pretty or buys her a cheap
twenty-cent pink carnation. I don’t want her to end up like I did. “

She cleared her throat and blinked back the tears that had welled
up in her dark eyes. “I dialed directory assistance and found out that
the Hideaway Hotel was in Hartford. So, the next morning I bought
a bus ticket to Ridgebury, with a stopover in Hartford. Between
buses, I wandered over to the Hideaway Hotel and spotted Alfred
in the parking lot, getting into a cab.” Her eyes slid to Jameson.
“That’s how I knew where he lived, Detective, because I saw him. I
was stunned, but I immediately realized that Natalie was not meeting a boy-that this was something entirely different. I hurried back
and caught the bus to Ridgebury, but it arrived a few minutes behind schedule. When I got to the fair, it was already too late. Alfred
was dead. I can’t tell you how shocked I was, but I was even more
shocked to see Natalie standing in the crowd. And she was just as
shocked to see me.”

Bernice fumbled for another cigarette and lit it. “And that’s how
it’s been since. Natalie and I were never as close as she and her father were? I suppose all this time that I thought she was the murderer, she was suspecting me of the same thing.”

“And what about Herbert?” Jameson prompted. “You forget he
was there too.”

She shook her head. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. I was so upset that Natalie might have run off with another boy, that I went
into one of my tirades. I told Herbert everything-including how I
planned to drag her back home by her ears. My son has always been
extremely curious. He can’t bear to think of being left out of things,
especially when it involves his sister getting into trouble. I thought
he was at home-that’s what he had told me-but after that cab
driver came forward, he confessed that he had taken a direct bus to
Ridgebury and arrived just about the time of his father’s murder.”

“Perfect timing,” Logan remarked.

“He didn’t do it!” Bernice insisted. “I know what you all think
of my son. You think he’s `strange,“creepy,’ `weird.’ But he’s harmless. He’s a bright boy-an inquisitive boy. He’s always been fascinated by rather morbid things. But when his father left, he really
threw himself into his hobby. And now, since his father’s death,
he’s been trying to catch the murderer.”

Logan and Noonan chuckled.

“No, I mean it, gentlemen,” she maintained. “Those darts? He’s
been working all week trying to figure out what the killer could
have used to make them. You see, he’s convinced that the killer used
a cigarette holder to fire the darts.”

Marjorie leapt to her feet. “A cigarette holder? Why?”

“Because he saw the killer do it.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Logan cried.

“Son of a-” Noonan threw his hat on the floor.

“What!” Marjorie shouted.

“Saw the killer?” Jameson exclaimed. “Why didn’t he say anything before?”

“I told him not to,” Bernice explained. “And it’s a good thing
too-look what happened to Natalie. Natalie had suspected the
same person, but she hadn’t actually seen them do it. After Herbert confirmed what she suspected, suddenly poisoned chocolates
appear on our doorstep. Coincidence? I don’t think so! Besides, it’s
not like the description he’d have given you would have been very
helpful. He couldn’t say anything about the woman except that she
was dressed head to toe in white and that she wore a hat with a veil
that covered her face.”

The foursome stood in numb silence.

“I am sorry.” Bernice grasped Marjorie’s hand tightly. “I know
I should have had Herbert tell you, but I’ve been afraid. You won’t
tell Natalie and Herbert that I told you, will you? Herbert wanted to
present his findings personally-he’d be devastated if he couldn’t.
And Natalie … well, I’d hate to lose her trust. I do love her, Miss
McClelland. I really do.”

Marjorie gazed into the older woman’s eyes and nodded before
pulling her hand away.

“We won’t say a thing;” Jameson assured. “Thank you, Mrs. Nussbaum.”

“Yes, thank you, Bernice,” Marjorie smiled at the older woman.
“And don’t worry, your children shouldn’t be in danger much longer.

Mrs. Nussbaum wept openly. “Thank God. Thank God!”

Jameson made his leave as quickly as possible. Shaking the Boston officer’s hand, he excused himself: “Mike, I’ll be in touch.”

Marjorie and Noonan took off after him.

“In touch? Hey, where ya all going?” Logan shouted after them.

The trio did not reply.

ROBERT PULLED THE POLICE car slowly out of the hospital parking
lot and onto the streets of Boston. Marjorie, seated in the passenger
seat, was lost in thought. Noonan, however, hadn’t stopped talking
since they left the hospital.

“Son of a gun,” the officer remarked from his place in the back
seat. “Those Nussbaum kids, I tell ya. Herbert saw the murderer
and said nothin. And Natalie? Here I was feelin’ sorry for the kid,
and it sounds like she might have known about her old man’s work
as a spy. The thing I don’t get is, if she did know about his job with
Cullen Chemicals, where did she go that Friday? Not that night,
but the afternoon-what would have made her that happy?”

“I guess she could have hired someone to kill her father,” Noonan
continued. “But that would have required an awful lot of money. An
awful lot of money that Natalie didn’t have. And then who would
have poisoned the chocolates?”

“Natalie didn’t hire a killer, Noonan. She wanted her father to
pay for leaving her family, but I don’t believe she wanted him dead. I think she went to see someone-someone who had an axe to grind
with her father-and things got terribly out of control,” Marjorie
speculated.

“Murphy seems to be doing all right for himself,” Jameson ventured. “And he wanted Nussbaum dead. He may even have been
willing to do it for free.”

Marjorie shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking of Murphy. I was
thinking of what Natalie said earlier.”

“About what?”

“`I couldn’t have seen the murder. I couldn’t have’ Think about
it. Think of the words she used. She `couldn’t.”’

“Yeah, it’s like Mike said-” Noonan began.

Marjorie turned around to face the officer. “No, Noonan. No it
isn’t. She didn’t say she `couldn’t have seen the murderer’ because
she doesn’t want to believe she did. She’s saying it because she honestly can’t believe she did. She can’t believe she saw the murderer
because the person she saw shouldn’t have been there-couldn’t
have been there!”

Jameson spoke up. “But Herbert claims that the murderer is
the `Lady in White.”’

“Yes, and he’s right. Think about it. Natalie and Bernice saw each
other at the fair immediately following the murder. If either of them
had been in disguise, they wouldn’t have recognized each other.
Josie is another possibility, but the fact that her bags were packed
and she had already checked out of her room when Noonan picked
her up, doesn’t give her a very large window of opportunity…”

“You think Saporito was wearing a dress?” Noonan ventured.

Jameson rolled his eyes.

Marjorie continued. “Creighton insisted the peashooter wasn’t
the weapon. How did he know? And that phone call from Creighton to Mrs. Hodgkin, there was no reason for it. Calling me would
have been quicker. Unless…”

“Oh no,” Jameson jumped in. “You’re not thinking-no, you can’t
mean you suspect Vanessa Randolph!”

“You have to admit, Alfred’s spying on Alchemy gives her a pretty
strong motive.”

“There’s no way she could have done it,” Jameson argued. “You
saw for yourself how sick she is. She can’t even walk.”

“Herbert and Natalie couldn’t have seen her,” Noonan exclaimed.

“Yes…” Marjorie bit her lip in silent thought and smiled. “Exactly.”

Jameson sighed noisily and then sent the police car barreling
toward the neighborhood of Beacon Hill. “You’re right. I don’t believe she did it, but it might be worth our while to pay her another
visit and find out if she knew about Nussbaum’s double dealings.”
He asked excitedly, “Do you think that’s where Natalie went that
day? Do you think she told Vanessa what Alfred had been doing?”

Marjorie stared blankly into space.

“Marjorie? Have you been listening?”

Indeed, Marjorie had been listening, but she had also been ruminating over a certain fact in Bernice’s story-something that
made her wonder … Suddenly, she recalled the Bible passage that
had helped them to decode the note: “You have heard it said to
those of old, `You shall not murder, and whoever murders will be
in danger of the judgment.”

“I think,” Marjorie averred, her green eyes flashing, “that the
heart of this case has nothing to do with stolen formulas, jealous
children, or secret lives. This is a case of murder for revenge. The
only question left is … how?”

CREIGHTON RUSHED INTO THE dining room, where Martha, the
young kitchen maid, was in the process of serving dinner.

“You’re right on time,” Vanessa announced from her place at the
head of the table. “I had the cook prepare your favorite: fresh Dover sole.” She noted her guest’s sulky demeanor. “Creighton, what’s
wrong?”

Without a word, he stepped forward and placed the hypodermic needle on Vanessa’s plate. The kitchen maid hastened from the
room.

“Where did you get that?” Vanessa demanded.

“That’s unimportant. What are you doing with it?”

“Why, it’s for my medication. I told you the doctor prescribed
something for my condition.”

“What’s the name of your medication?”

She grew flustered. “I can’t remember. All those medical names
sound alike to me.”