Terry Thomas - The Drowned Woman

‘What does she want?’

‘She said if I find the emeralds, I will find her killer.’

Seconds ticked past. He didn’t speak, and neither did I. Zeke took my hand and kissed it. He handed me the newspaper. ‘Read the headline.’

I took the paper from him and scanned the front page. Resting in between the news of the war overseas and the threats of the striking miners, the headline that so worried Zeke screamed,

‘FIRE DESTROYS SAN FRANCISCO BARRACKS – ARSON SUSPECTED!’

‘I don’t understand. What does this have to do with you?’

‘The arsonist is one of Hendrik Shrader’s men,’ Zeke said.

White fear washed over me. A cramp formed in my stomach and my mouth went dry.

Hendrik Shrader – kidnapper, murderer, Nazi sympathizer, and Zeke’s mortal enemy.

‘I thought he and his collaborators had been arrested.’ I would never forget being thrown into the back of Hendrik Shrader’s car by one of his henchmen. Hendrik Shrader’s threats haunted my dreams to this day.

‘When they raided his apartment, he was gone, but they found a piece of paper with our address on it. And I agree with Wade, we’ll be safe in Millport. It’s a small town. If anyone comes looking for me, I’ll soon hear about it. Wade Connor can take care of Hendrik Shrader. Once it’s safe, we’ll come back and life will return to normal.’ Zeke rested his hand on my thigh.

‘Will it ever be safe?’ I imagined Hendrik Shrader had an army of men, and when one was thwarted, another would step up to take his place.

‘Hendrik Shrader isn’t my only enemy, Sarah. I have to be diligent. Making enemies like Hendrik Shrader is a component of the life I’ve chosen to live. I will spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, for Hendrik Shrader and others.’

‘I admit to being a little afraid,’ I said.

‘Caution is the operative word,’ Zeke said. ‘We’ll be safe in Millport. It’s about time you met my family.’

I believed him. ‘Tell me about Rachel. How did she die? Tell me about the emeralds.’

‘Rachel is – was – my brother William’s wife. My father didn’t approve of the match. Rachel didn’t come from an influential family. Instead, she pulled herself up by the bootstraps. She was a smart girl. Wanted to be a doctor. Not a nurse, mind you, a doctor. And she probably would have succeeded. We all went to an annual Christmas Eve party at the Winslows’. The Winslows are our closest neighbors. There’s a path from our property to theirs by way of a lake that my grandfather built. Rachel left the party early. She brought walking shoes and put them on under her dress.’ Zeke laughed and shook his head. ‘I remember how she looked, in that long flowing dress, that gorgeous necklace around her neck, those bulky shoes, and her fur coat. She claimed a headache and left the party early. She walked home and disappeared. There was speculation. Many thought she had run away, cracked under the pressure of living in the same house with my father, who was very vocal about his disapproval of William’s marriage and Rachel’s desire to go to medical school. Her body turned up two weeks later in the lake. She had been drowned; murdered. Rachel’s death almost destroyed my brother. He loved his wife very much.’

‘And the emeralds?’

‘Gone. Disappeared without a trace. My father hired divers to search the lake. He offered a generous reward for their return, but they were never found. They are unusual in that they are round, perfect orbs shaped like pearls, with gold filigree over each stone. My words don’t do them justice. They were stunning. Every now and again a journalist rekindles the story, and the speculation starts all over again.’

‘I wonder why Rachel came to me now?’ I asked.

‘Because one of the stones has turned up at a jeweler’s in Portland, Oregon.’ I took in Zeke’s words, playing out in my mind what they meant. ‘Surely they can trace the stone?’

‘The police are trying. Wade’s father, Ken, was the detective on the case. He spent the last three years trying to solve it. He retired last year. I imagine he is still trying to figure out who murdered Rachel. He was very fond of her – we all were. I haven’t had much contact with anyone in Millport since I left.’

‘What a sad story for Rachel,’ I said. ‘I think I would have liked her.’

‘You would have. Everyone did. William never recovered. That’s why he volunteered to go to Germany with me. I made it home. He didn’t. Now my father and I hate each other.’ Zeke stared at the road ahead, lost in his own thoughts, and didn’t speak for a period after. ‘I’m glad you’re coming with me. I will be better able to face them with you at my side.’

I smiled.

‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you,’ he went on.

‘What is it?’ I asked, worried now.

‘I need you to be careful. I’m not going to tell you to ignore Rachel’s ghost because I know you wouldn’t listen to me anyway. And don’t look at me like that. You know I’m right. But the woman was murdered. All I’m asking is that you take caution. If you think you are coming close to uncovering any information about Rachel’s killer, come to me. I will help you. I will listen to you, and I will do whatever you ask. I just need you to be smart. You have a tendency to put yourself right in the middle – enough said. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Because I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.’

He took my hand and kissed it. We drove like that, hand in hand, connected, each with our own thoughts. We drove along craggy cliffs with the waves pounding beneath us, enjoying the estuaries teaming with wildlife and sea birds and the warm summer sun.

‘I should tell you about my family, so you can prepare yourself,’ Zeke said. ‘My father and I don’t get along. I’ll leave it at that. I’ve not seen him in almost four years, so maybe he’s changed. I don’t know. My brother Simon is a ne’er-do-well. My father spoiled him since the day he was born. He hasn’t done a day’s work in his life. Father just throws money at him. Simon gambles, and I would tell you that he is just as bad as my father—’

‘But?’ I asked.

‘But he has a wonderful wife, Daphne, who is trying her best to force him to grow up. They have a little boy, Toby, who I haven’t seen since he was a baby. My family’s mill has always manufactured textiles, namely velvet for curtains and upholstery. They’ve switched gears since the war and now manufacture silk parachutes. That’s about all I know.’

‘Did you work at the plant?’

‘Of course,’ Zeke said. ‘We all did – Simon, William, and I. Father demanded it. I returned from Germany in 1939 and moved to San Francisco to work with Wade. He wasn’t happy. I have no idea how things are situated now.’

‘You haven’t missed your family? I never hear you speak of them.’

‘I miss Granna and Simon at times, but no, I don’t miss my father.’ He smiled at me. ‘My life is with you. I’ve moved on.’

We had traveled for three hours when my stomach growled.

‘Ready for a picnic?’ Zeke asked. He drove off the highway onto a dirt road almost hidden by overgrown shrubs and saplings. He continued about half a mile until we wound up at a gravel parking lot abutting a secluded beach under a steep cliff.

Despite his injured leg and the cane he now used to walk, Zeke carried the hamper with our food. I knew better than to offer to help him, so I picked up the blanket and followed him along the rocky path which led to the beach. Soon we made our encampment and dug into egg salad sandwiches, potato salad, and canned peaches. The cliff provided a shelter against the wind. The crashing waves served as our background music. When we finished eating, we lay side by side on the blanket, basking in the warm sun as seagulls circled overhead. For that brief moment it seemed as though we had no troubles at all.