Читать книгу: «One Small Secret»

Two

In misery, Honor watched the trucks and cars go back and forth from Blackbird Hall. Doug hadn’t been kidding. It looked as if they were preparing for the president himself to visit. The cleaning crew had arrived in two full-size buses, which were even now parked in front of Shaw’s Retreat as if the National Registry house were nothing but a bus depot. Five contractors’ vans were scattered along the road, nearly blocking passage, and men streamed back and forth carrying dropcloths and tool boxes.

“Who are those people, Mommy?”

Honor spun around and faced Lockey, her heart constricting. “They’re just fixing up the place for the owner.”

“The owner? I always thought we owned that place.” The little girl looked up at her, her eyes as large and blue as cornflowers.

“No, darling,” Honor said with a painful laugh. “But I can see how you’d think that. Blackbird Hall’s been locked up a long time. That’s why it’s taking so many people to put it right again.”

“Who’s going to live there?”

“A man. A very rich man.”

“Do you think he has any kids for me to play with?”

Honor felt a stabbing in her chest. “Maybe,” she said in a small voice. “I guess we won’t know for sure until he gets here.”

“What’s the man’s name, Mommy?”

“Does it really matter? We may never even see him. He has a dozen houses. He may come for the night and decide Blackbird Hall bores him.”

“But what’s his name?”

“If...if I recall, his name is Mark Gnffin.”

“Griffin.” Lockey stared down the road from where they stood on the front veranda. “Griffin,” she repeated.

Honor died a little bit mside.

Pulling herself together, she said, “Hey, let’s go to a movie. C‘mon. It’s Saturday. Vergie can watch out for the guests. All-these workmen are getting on my nerves.”

“Griffin. That’s the name those guys were talking about.”

“Those guys?”

“You know. The two guys in the attic. They kind of scare me, Mommy. They talk bad.”

“What were they talking about?” Honor tried to keep her voice even, but it was difficult. She hadn’t been able to hide her distaste when Metz and Keliher had arrived back at the house late last night, the strange black duffel bag still in tow. Now it seemed Lockey had had an encounter with them and formed the same aversion to them.

“I was on the stairs this morning with my dolls, and I heard them talking. Their door was a little bit open, but I think they thought it was closed, because they talked so loud.”

“So you heard them?”

“Yes.”

“You remember all our talks about eavesdropping—”

“I didn’t, Mommy, I promise! I was just sitting on the stairs!”

Honor took both her daughter’s hands in hers. “I know you understand, Lockey. That’s why I’m not mad. I want you to know this is a special case. Tell me what these men said. And why they scared you.”

“They said a lot of curse words, and they talked about how Mr. Griffin was a really rich guy with a lot of treasure in his house. They were watching the house from the attic window, and they said they were going to take Mr Griffin’s stuff, even though that’s not why their boss sent them here.”

Honor could hardly breathe. “Are you sure, honey?”

Lockey met her gaze and nodded resolutely. “I’m sure.”

Without pause, Honor went inside, grabbed her purse and headed for the car, all the while holding Lockey’s hand firmly in her own. She started the car, eased between the two buses and headed for the police station.

“But, Doug, you’ve heard what Lockey said. These guys must be crimmals. They’re going to ransack the Hall.” Honor stared at the police chief from across his desk.

“I hear you girl. I hear you. And I can go and question them, but all that’s going to do is tip them off. And if there hasn’t been a crime committed... well, not much more I can do ‘cept keep my eye on ’em.”

Doug leaned back in his oak swivel chair. He looked at Lockey and gave the child a big grin. “Lockey, darling, why don’t you go see if Acomb is at the front desk. I bet he’d find a nice snack for you. You appear to me to be a mite hungry.”

Lockey looked at her mother.

Honor nodded her consent.

When the girl was gone, Doug leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, his face lined with concern. “Tell you what, we’ll come and watch the Retreat. You head home and tell those two when you see ‘em that something’s wrong with their rooms and they’ll have to find other ‘comodations. I don’t like you girls staying out there alone with a couple of hoodlums.” He leaned back in his chair once more.

“When they pack up and leave your place, I’ll take them to the station here and question them, check out their identification. That’s the best I can do until something’s been done wrong.”

Honor wondered if her blood pressure would ever be the same. “You’ll have a car outside while I tell them?”

“Yes, ma‘am. I’ll go with Acomb myself.”

“I’ll drop Lockey off with a friend first. Just in case there’s anything ugly. May I use your phone?”

Doug shoved it to her side of the desk. “I don’t think there’ll be any trouble. The child could just be imagining things. Or these guys might really know Griffin and want to rob the house, but until they do, there’s no crime, and hell, they might just move on once they know we got an eye on ‘em.”

Honor nodded, but still the sick feeling wouldn’t leave her stomach.

“Doug, Lockey did get Mr. Griffin’s name right. I don’t think she’s making up stories. And...and... well, I can’t help but think someone should warn Mr. Griffin that someone wants to rob him and Blackbird Hall.”

“Hell the guy ain’t even there yet.” He grunted. “But hey, I’ll go talk to the workmen, see if they can get a message to him.”

“Thanks,” she said as she dialed, relieved that she wouldn’t have to warn her neighbor of the would-be thieves. After all, if she and Mark met during his stay in Natchez, they were going to have enough to talk about.

“Vergie says they already checked out. They’re gone,” Honor said to Doug as she stood in the Retreat’s drive. The traffic on the dead-end road had diminished to one solitary van, and even those workmen were packing it up.

“I sent Acomb to talk to someone at the Hall. I don’t think Griffin’s arrived yet, but we’ll get the word to him eventually.” Doug sat in his squad car, putting down notes on his clipboard.

Honor sighed. “I wonder if maybe Lockey tipped them off somehow.”

Doug patted her arm. “Sometimes crooks just chicken out, darlin‘. If they’re gone, then I say good riddance. Go get your little girl back and have a peaceful night’s sleep.”

Sergeant Acomb, tall and gangly, walked up from the road after talking to the workmen. He nodded to the sheriff and slid into the passenger seat of the car.

“We’ve done all we could. You want me to send Acomb, here, over for night patrol? Don’t mind, if that’d set your mind at ease.” Doug looked at her questioningly.

Honor shrugged. Everything seemed like a nonevent now. Just an hour ago her life appeared to be careening back into Mark Griffin’s. Now, when Mark was finally going to arrive at the Hall, there would be no reason for them to see each other. Because she sure as hell wouldn’t seek him out. She’d tried for that whole first year to reach him in the corporate maze of Griffin Industries, but no matter how many phone calls she’d made to Zurich, no matter how many letters she’d sent, he’d never called back, never gotten in touch with her. By now he probably didn’t even remember her.

A strange knot of tears formed in her throat.

Quickly she said to Doug, “No, you guys go home to your families. This is over with. Thank heavens.” She waved them on, then disappeared into the house to get her car keys, so she could go pick up Lockey.

“G‘night, Mommy.”

“Good night, love,” Honor said, tucking Lockey into her bed.

“I’m glad those guys left.” Lockey peeked at her from beneath the pile of homemade quilts that had been sewn by Shaw women throughout the years.

Honor released a deep dramatic breath. “So am I!” she exclaimed, kissing Lockey on the nose.

“Mommy, remember when I told you they were using scary words?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I remember now why they scared me.”

“You do? What did they say?” Honor leaned down closer to her daughter for comfort.

“They said they were here to kill Mr. Griffin, not to rob him.”

Honor knew her face had frozen into a false mask of calm. “That’s terrible, honey. Is that really what they said?” Her mind raced, checklisting and crossing off dangers. Another bout of horror and panic threatened her, but she fought it back.

“Uh-huh.” Lockey stared at her. “They were just going to take his stuff because they figured nobody else would want it after Mr. Griffin was dead.”

“How awful.” Honor wondered if she were fooling her daughter or not with her false bravado.

“They scared me, Mommy. They’re going to bring a tiger here, and they said maybe the tiger would get him, too.”

“They won’t bring any tigers here, Lockey. Now I don’t want you to have nightmares. Those bad men will never come back here. I’ll make sure of that. And Doug will make sure of it, too.” Honor hugged her as if nothing could ever part them. “I promise you, they’ll never come back here.”

She finished tucking in her daughter, her mind racing all the while.

“It’s over now, honey, so go to sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” She kissed Lockey again, more for herself than for her daughter’s sake, and closed Lockey’s door.

After racing silently down the back stairs to the kitchen, Honor picked up the phone and called the sheriff at home.

“Doug, I just talked to Lockey, and she said that not only were those guys talking about robbing the Hall, they were talking about their real reason for being here—to kill Mark Griffin.”

“To kill him? Not in my county, they won’t,” Doug said angrily. He’d obviously been in the middle of dinner. Honor could hear him swallow.

“What should you do? Go over there?” she asked.

“First I’ll call Griffin Enterprises again and give them this news. But I’ll tell your, they’re very protective of his privacy. I doubt he’ll give permission for me to go over to the Hall and see him personally. They wouldn’t the last time.”

“But you don’t need permission. You’re the law!” she exclaimed.

“Mark Griffin isn’t the criminal here. He has a nght to privacy, even if it kills him.” Doug’s voice dropped to a grave whisper. “Which it may.”

Honor groaned. “Does this guy even get his messages? I can’t believe I’m in this predicament again.”

“What d‘you mean by ‘again,’ girl?” Doug questioned.

Caught off-guard, Honor quickly changed the subject. “Hey, I guess there’s not much else we can do. I was just upset hearing that those creeps staying in my own bed and breakfast were even worse than I imagined. Go on and finish your dinner, Doug. Tell Dons I’ll see her Wednesday. Bye.”

She put down the receiver. To calm herself, she made a cup of hot tea and took it to the back veranda.

The lights of Blackbird Hall shone through the forest of live oaks like a landing UFO. It didn’t seem natural to see them, when for years there had never been lights in that dark grove.

Sipping her tea, staring at the lights, she thought about Mark Griffin.

It wasn’t hard to picture him. Even after all these years, she could still see his eyes, still picture him standing in the candlelight of the parlor of Blackbird Hall with that grin on his face, that terrible, beautiful grin.

It didn’t seem right that she could sip her tea and watch those lights, when the very person who had lit them might even now be the object of a murder plot. Not when she could personally see to it that he was warned.

She was an ordinary citizen. She’d been rebuffed by Griffin Enterprises before. But this time, she wouldn’t go through the bureaucracy of Griffin Enterprises or even the Natchez Police Department. She didn’t need to have proof of a threat to be a Good Samaritan and go warn her neighbor about the men who had stayed at her bed and breakfast.

In truth, she was probably morally obligated to ring the bell at the Hall’s gates and tell the man that there had been a threat against him.

She could give him the information and then move on. He could do with it what he would; she would have no further obligation to see him.

But did she have the courage to do the right thing?

She closed her eyes. In truth, she wasn’t sure. Blackbird Hall was only a few steps away, but she could be opening a hornets’ nest if she were to see him again. There would be questions. God, would there be questions. Questions she just didn’t want to answer after all these years.

Yet, she couldn’t not warn him. If something happened, she would never forgive herself.

And then there was Lockey.

She didn’t know what she would say to Lockey if Mark Griffin were hurt because no one had warned him...how she would explain that she’d had the chance to help. To maybe even put things right, but...

As much as it frightened her, she knew she had to give it a try. Mark Griffin had to be warned, if only to keep her own conscience clear.

She shoved away her teacup and stood. Her housekeeper Vergie was in the next room. Lockey would be fine for a few minutes if she went next door. Trembling, she stepped down from the veranda and across the back lawn to the street, following it until it ended at the notorious gates.

For several seconds she stood there in the darkness, smelling the deep mossy smells of night.

Then, as if it were now or never, she pulled the bronze chain of the gate bell and listened to its raw echo through the shadows.

A light went on at the Hall.

She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. The alpaca sweater she wore was certainly warm enough to ward off the spring chill; her shivering had nothing to do with the temperature.

Just tell him and go home, she told herself as she saw the movement of someone coming toward her along the Hall’s cobblestone drive.

Just tell him what he needs to know, then get out of Dodge and pray he never comes for a visit at the Retreat. She shivered again as the night-cloaked figure became larger and more ominous.

“Rosie?” she gasped when she suddenly realized the figure coming down the lane was not human at all, but the leggy half-Irish wolfhound mutt she remembered from her last visit to the Hall years ago.

“Rosie, how are you, girl?” she cooed as she stuck her hand through the bars and scratched the dog behind her ear.

They stood almost eye to eye. She might have been afraid of a dog this size, but she remembered how gentle Rosie was, and the funny story of how the mutt had gotten her name. Mark had told her of rescuing a bag-of-bones puppy from a drainage ditch. The starving creature hardly looked like a dog, because most of her hair was missing from mange. He named her Rosie after the pathetic animal’s exposed raw skin. Even now, Honor smiled thinking about the silly wrestling matches between Rosie and Mark when Mark would resort to calling Rosie a “mange brain.