Terry Lynn Thomas - The Drowned Woman

Daphne spoke, but her words faded into the background. Above the fireplace hung a portrait of Rachel Caen. She wore the same dress she had on when she appeared before me just a few hours before at our flat in Sausalito. The emeralds sparkled around her neck as though they had a life of their own. Her hair flowed over her shoulders in honey-colored waves. Her expression suggested hidden mirth, as though she thought the whole idea of the portrait a joke. I could not take my eyes away.

‘That’s my sister-in-law, Rachel. She’s gone now, but she was very dear to me. The artist captured her expression so well, it’s almost as if Rachel … Forgive me. I’m getting maudlin.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and turned her attention to the small round table with two chairs nestled in the corner, topped with a tablecloth and empty cups and saucers.

‘I thought you and Zeke might want coffee in here in the morning.’ Daphne wouldn’t meet my eyes. She twisted her hair into a bun and surveyed the room. ‘Is the room okay? I want you to be comfortable.’

‘Everything is perfect,’ I said. ‘Thanks so much.’

‘I’m so envious that you are able to actually have a meaningful job,’ Daphne said. ‘I would love to work, but Mother forbade me to even think of it as a child. Simon wouldn’t care if I got a job, but Will Sr would not approve.’

‘Well, I was forced into it,’ I said. ‘I had to earn my living.’

‘I know. I read about you in the papers, starting with Jack Bennett, and then that woman who wanted to kill her husband. Are you a detective, too?’

‘Some people say a proper lady’s name should appear in the newspaper three times: upon her birth, her marriage and her death.’ I met Daphne’s gaze head on. ‘I have given up any notion of being a proper lady.’

‘I like to think you’ve paved the way, made it a little easier for those who are coming behind you. But enough of that. I want to hear about your job. Surely you don’t need to earn your living now?’

‘I like to work,’ I said.

‘Ah, an independent streak.’ The smile had come back into Daphne’s eyes. ‘I’m glad you’ve come. I hope we shall be great friends.’

‘Do you dress for dinner?’ I opened the wardrobe. Daphne and I surveyed my meager collection of clothes, which now hung on cedar hangers.

‘These are lovely.’ She ran her fingers over the fabric of my emerald dress and the black Lanvin gown. ‘They’ll be perfect for dinner, but if you need anything else, I’ve got things you can borrow.’

I longed for Daphne to say goodbye and leave me alone, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she moved around the room, fluffing pillows, fiddling with the lamps, straightening a picture that didn’t need it.

‘Sarah, are you and Zeke planning on staying here? Simon thinks Zeke is going to take over the business. He’s not very happy that Zeke’s come back.’

‘Oh, no. We have a business and a home in Sausalito. We just needed to get away. It’s a long story, and I think Zeke should be the one to tell you why we came.’

‘That’s a relief. My husband has the ridiculous idea that Zeke intends on taking over the business and ousting him in the process. Simon’s been a bit of a drifter, but he’s trying so hard to do the right thing, at least for Toby’s sake, if not for mine. I tried to explain that Zeke isn’t like that, wouldn’t do that. Simon is stubborn, and he’s also a bit jealous of Zeke.’

There was a soft rapping at the door.

‘Come in,’ I said.

A young girl came in carrying a tray.

‘Ah, Helen. Lemonade. Good. Sarah, meet Helen Dickenson.’ We said our hellos.

‘Helen is going to make sure you and Zeke have everything you need. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. See you later,’ Daphne said.

‘Thanks,’ I called after her.

Helen Dickenson was a sturdy girl, with brown eyes and a quiet way about her that I liked right away.

‘I’ve taken a few of your things to be ironed. And I’m quite handy with the comb, miss. I can come back before dinner and fix you up real nice, if you’d like.’

‘Thank you, Helen.’

‘My room is just next door. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be, or downstairs in the kitchen. We’re all glad that Mr Zeke has come home, miss. I hope you’ll be happy here.’ With that, she walked down the corridor toward the staircase.

‘Oh, but we won’t be staying that …’ My words trailed off. Helen had disappeared.

* * *

I lay down on the sofa in the sitting area and soon fell asleep, Rachel Caen’s portrait the last thing I saw before my eyes shut. Daphne was right. The afternoon heat was relentless. I woke up groggy, damp with sweat, and parched. The sun had started to set, leaving the room bathed in a soft light that pierced the heavy curtains. The iced lemonade that Helen had brought up earlier had melted. I poured a glass of the watered-down stuff and chugged it, then poured another and sipped. A fan sat in the corner of the room. I propped it up on the desk, turned it on, and headed into the bathroom.

I took a cold bath and had just buttoned my blouse when Zeke came into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. ‘Just me,’ Zeke said. ‘I’ve had a—’

Someone banged on the bedroom door.

Was there no privacy to be had in this house? I smoothed my hair and hurried out to meet whoever had come to speak to Zeke.

‘Simon, what do you want? If it’s about what happened at the mill, now isn’t the time.’ Zeke’s tone was so sharp, I stopped in my tracks.

‘No, we are talking about this now,’ the other voice said.

I stayed hidden in the bathroom, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, not quite sure if I should make my presence known.

‘You seem to think that you can come home, the prodigal son, and waltz into a position of authority at the mill,’ Simon said. ‘How dare you? You’ve always been arrogant, but don’t you think this is pushing it just a little bit? I’ve actually done a good job, made a difference to the workers’ lives, and have increased the profit margins. Not that Father would notice. He hasn’t said a kind word to me in years.’

‘Simon, we aren’t going to stay here. We have a life in Sausalito, a home, a business.’

‘Why should I believe you?’ Simon asked.

This had gone far enough. I knocked on the door between the bathroom and bedroom, and opened it, like a lamb going to slaughter.

Zeke leaned on his cane. His eyes flashed with fury as he faced off with his brother. Simon Caen, for his part, seemed just as angry. He shared Zeke’s flashing eyes, although his were blue. Both men were tall and lean, but the resemblance ended there. Where Zeke’s jaw was determined, Simon’s was soft. Where Zeke’s eyes held your gaze, never breaking contact, Simon’s flitted around. He had the countenance of a spoiled boy, and I judged him to be weak within seconds of laying eyes on him.

‘You must be Simon,’ I said, forcing a smile.

‘So this is the psychic wife,’ Simon said. He surveyed me, not bothering to hide his distaste.

‘You will address my wife with respect,’ Zeke growled.

‘Simon, I overheard what you said. We’re not staying here. Believe me.’

Simon smirked. ‘You’re up to something, both of you. I would like to know what it is. Why in the hell are you two here?’

Zeke hobbled over to the table and poured himself a glass of watered-down lemonade. He drank it in one gulp.

‘I’ve come to clean up your mess, Simon.’

‘I don’t have a mess, brother, and if I did, I wouldn’t want your help.’

‘Are you aware of Millport’s resident thief? Ah, I didn’t think so. Are you aware that one of Rachel’s emeralds has surfaced?’