Dangerous Mercy: A Novel (26 page)

She couldn’t undo the past. But she promised the Lord she would show compassion and mercy to every person He put in her path. What gave her the right to single out those who were worthy of it and those who weren’t? Wasn’t she to love her neighbor as herself? What kind of person would she be today, if the Lord hadn’t allowed her to start with a clean slate? If there was ever a person unworthy of mercy, it was she.

Noah and Murray had proven to be honest and hardworking. And they were pleasant to be with. Wasn’t it foolish to end that arrangement because of the unfounded suspicion of others?

Footsteps in the hallway broke her concentration, and she looked up just as Isabel walked into the kitchen, pulling a rolling suitcase.

“I cleaned out my closets and drawers and packed my car.”

“Goodness, that was fast.”

“I still had the boxes. I guess I’ll be leaving now.”

“Wait.” Adele rose to her feet with the help of her cane and took Isabel’s hand. “I so wish it hadn’t come to this. I really like you, hon. I want you to know I appreciate all you did. And your companionship.”

“Aren’t you angry I’m leaving you high and dry?”

“Not angry. Disappointed. And sad. Are you okay financially until you can find something?”

“There! See what I mean?” Isabel threw her hand in the air. “You’re already concerned for my well-being. If I told you I needed five hundred dollars, you’d probably give it to me.”

“I might, if I felt it was warranted. After all, it was the oppressive environment here that caused you to flee. But let me emphasize again that I didn’t manage to stay wealthy by being foolish.”

Isabel shook her head. “You’ve missed my point entirely.”

“I really haven’t. I could count on two hands the times I’ve loaned or given any individual money. My wealth has been entrusted to me by God. I don’t waste it. But I don’t worry about it either.”

“It’s not just money, Mrs. Woodmore. I worry about your safety.”

“Don’t. I have angels for that.” Adele put her arm around Isabel’s waist and pulled her gently to her side. “I
will
miss you. You’re always welcome here.”

Isabel’s eyes glistened. “You’re not making this easy for me.”

“I don’t want there to be hard feelings between us, just because we don’t see eye to eye. You were efficient and trustworthy. And I loved your cooking. Most of the time we spent together was very nice.”

Isabel nodded.

“If you need a reference,” Adele said, “I’ll be happy to give it. I imagine anyone who wants to hire you will understand the reason you felt compelled to leave.”

“Do
you?”

Adele brushed the wispy hair out of Isabel’s eyes. “Of course I do. You’ve been forthcoming with your feelings all along. We’ve just reached an impasse. Your leaving, as much as I regret it, is probably the only viable solution.”

“Just be careful. A little more caution wouldn’t cost you anything. The lack of it could. Bye, Mrs. Woodmore.” Isabel tilted her suitcase and rolled it toward the front door.

“Good-bye, Isabel.”
I really hate to lose you.

Adele walked to the front door and watched as Isabel stuffed the suitcase into the trunk of her car, the backseat already filled with boxes and hanging clothes. Isabel slid in behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb. Adele waved but couldn’t see whether or not Isabel waved back.

“Hello?”

The male voice startled her and sent a cold chill up her spine. She turned around, her hand over her heart, and saw Noah standing there.

“Goodness, you frightened me! Why didn’t you cough or something so I would know you were there?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Woodmore. I thought you heard me come in. You told me to let you know when I was finished.”

“Well, I
didn’t
hear you. I was engrossed in something. Heavens, my heart’s nearly pounding out of my chest.”

“Maybe you should come out to the kitchen and sit for a spell. Let me get you somethin’ cold to drink.”

She took in a slow, deep breath and let it out. Then did it again. “You look hot. Why don’t you have a glass of iced raspberry tea with me?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Adele walked out to the kitchen, holding tightly to her cane, suddenly feeling awkward about being in the house alone with Noah. Why was she letting Isabel’s paranoia play on her? What nonsense. The dear man had lost everything in Katrina. And now even what he had gained back had been taken from him. The least she could do was offer him something cold to drink.

CHAPTER 27

Vanessa arranged fresh-cut potatoes, carrots, and onions around a pot roast, then secured the lid and slipped the roasting pan into the oven. She set the temperature so that it would slow cook all afternoon, allowing the aroma to permeate the house.

The phone rang, and she grabbed it, cradling the receiver. “Hello.”

“Mrs. Langley, it’s Jack Joyce. You need to come down to the caretaker house. There’s something you need to see.”

“Can it wait? Ethan knows a lot more about the specs.”

“No, ma’am. It can’t. It’s not about specs. We’ve got a real problem.”

“All right. I’ll be right there.”

Vanessa wiped her hands and hung up the phone. She put the sign on the front door—
Proprietor will return shortly
—and then turned the bolt lock.

She breezed through the kitchen, out the back door, and down the deck steps, then climbed into the old Chevy truck they used to drive around the property.

She started the engine and headed down the winding road that was overhung with a basket weave of leafy branches. What was so important that Jack would pull her away from the manor house? He knew she was preparing for the arrival of today’s guests.

A couple minutes later she pulled up behind the caretaker house, which had been painted a homey shade of yellow, and saw four vehicles, one of which was Jack Joyce’s red Dodge Ram. She pulled up next to it, got out, and walked toward the back door of the house.

A man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt came outside, his tall, lanky frame and full beard making him easy to recognize.

“Jack!” She hurried to meet him halfway. “What’s this about?”

“Follow me,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

Vanessa followed Jack through the side yard and around to the front of the house—and stopped cold. A single word had been spray painted in black between the picture window and the front door:

Liar

“Liar?” she said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
That he killed Flynn Gillis?

Jack shrugged. “It’s none of my business, other than my paint job is wrecked. I’d like to get my hands on whoever did this.”

“When did you discover it?”

“About a minute before I called you.” Jack hooked his thumbs on his jeans pockets. “We just got here. We were doing finish work at the Thompson place all morning and came here right after lunch. I walked around to the front of the house to put the second coat on those shutters. That’s when I discovered it. I called you right away.”

“I have to report this to the sheriff.” Vanessa’s heart sank. “If this is an accusation, I wonder why the person didn’t go directly to the authorities.”

“Can’t answer that. But there’s no point in my crew hanging around, doing nothing, while sheriff’s deputies are making a report.”

“Actually, there is,” she said. “They’re going to need your statement.”

“What statement? I walked up and saw what you’re seeing. End of report.”

“They’re going to want to hear that from you.”

“Why can’t you tell them what I said? It’s just graffiti. Could be a prank.”

“If it’s a prank, it’s a serious one. You know what the implication is here,” Vanessa said. “Do you need me to spell it out?”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Langley, I don’t have time to get in the middle of Noah’s problem.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “You’re seeing what I saw. Can’t you just tell them?”

“Jack, my mom is a cop. I know how this works. The sheriff will need your statement.”

Jack lifted his blue cap and wiped his forehead. “Then he can come over to the Thompson place. I’ve got serious work to do. Time is money. You know that.”

“I’m really sorry, Jack. I know it’s the last thing you need, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stay—just until they get your statement.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am.” His voice dripped with annoyance.

Vanessa moved her gaze to the word someone had spray painted, her mind racing with the implications. Just when she thought Noah might be in the clear. Who wanted to stir things up—and why?

Deputies Mike Doucet and Stone Castille finished taking pictures and getting statements. Jack and his crew had left.

Vanessa glanced at their patrol car in the driveway and dismissed the notion that it was a bad omen that theirs was the first vehicle to park there.

“All right,” Stone said. “I think we’re done here. You can go ahead and paint over it anytime you like.”

“I’m not sure why someone did this,” Vanessa said. “But Noah is not a liar.”

“I see here in your statement that Mr. Washington isn’t working for you at the moment. May I ask why?”

Vanessa sighed.
Lord, only You know for sure if Noah’s telling the truth. I believe him. If I’m wrong, show me.
“He thought it would be better for business—just until you solve Flynn Gillis’s murder.”

“I see.”

“It’s just temporary,” Vanessa insisted. “Noah’s going to move into this house. We’ve planned for a long time for him to be the caretaker and our full-time groundskeeper.”

Stone arched his eyebrows. “But you’re not going through with it until you’re sure he didn’t kill Flynn Gillis. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not because we think Noah did it. It’s simply a matter of dealing with the cloud of suspicion. Naturally, our guests are concerned that a murdered body was found on our property. In fact, it’s greatly impacted business. Occupancy is way down.”

“I’m sure the fact that your groundskeeper is a person of interest in the case doesn’t help matters.”

Vanessa folded her arms across her chest. “People only know what they hear in the media. They don’t know Noah like we do.”

“How well
do
you know him?”

“I know he saved Zoe, Pierce, and me when he didn’t even know us. He could’ve been killed. Yet he didn’t hesitate.”

“That’s not in dispute, Mrs. Langley. But what else do you know about him? Has he ever opened up about where he’s been since Katrina?”

“He had some kind of emotional breakdown after his wife and daughters were swept away. He lost his home, too. And his landscaping business, since most of his customers never came back after the hurricane. Truthfully, it seems too painful for him to talk about.”

“Or convenient?”

“Meaning what?”

“There may be another side to the Boy Scout you know. Perhaps a more violent side.”

Vanessa pursed her lips. “I’ve never seen any indication of it. And I’ve seen him almost every day for over two years. We’ve had many conversations about many subjects. Noah is a trustworthy, hardworking, gentle man.”

“But he never talks about those missing years?”

“Missing years? Those are your words, Deputy Castille. He’s not hiding anything. He readily admits he gave up on life for a while and ‘bummed it.’ He didn’t think he had much to live for.”

“Or much to lose?”

Vanessa locked gazes with him. “What is it you’re implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m just pointing out the fact that no one really knows this man—at least not until he showed up here, claiming his ancestors were slaves at Langley Manor. Can that even be documented?”

“No. It’s all word of mouth. But how else would he have known about the secret tunnels? Not even Ethan’s dad and uncles knew about them. Everything Noah told us makes perfect sense.”

“But all we’re
sure
of,” Stone said, “is that he used the tunnels to gain access to the house so he could live there while it sat vacant. He could have discovered the door in the woods, followed the tunnel into the house, and made up the story.”

“That’s a lot less likely than what he told us.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that neither Josiah nor Abigail Langley kept a diary of what happened out here? Something as important as the Underground Railroad?”

“They may have and we just haven’t found it. But they didn’t know how significant the Underground Railroad would be in American history.” Vanessa put her hands on her hips. “What’s your point?”

Stone nodded toward the front of the house. “Maybe
liar i
s meant to discredit his claim to be a descendant of the slave Naomi. It might not have a thing to do with Flynn Gillis’s murder. We just don’t know. The man could be a complete fraud. If he is, you’d want to know, right?”

“Are you going to talk to Noah again?”

“Yes. Father Vince located him and told him what’s going on. He volunteered to come back in and talk to us.”

Vanessa locked gazes with him. “I’m not going to sit back and let you pin Flynn Gillis’s murder on him.”

“We’re just trying to get at the truth, ma’am. If he’s lied about who he is, what’s to stop him from lying about what he’s done?”

Vanessa felt emotion constrict her throat. Had she been wrong about Noah? Was she too close to him to be objective?

Her cell phone rang, and she read the screen.

“Excuse me. I need to take this.” She walked over and leaned on a magnolia tree. “Hello, Adele.”

“Noah and I were having something cold to drink when he got a call from Father Vince, saying the sheriff wanted to talk to him about some graffiti at Langley Manor. What’s going on, hon? Did someone deface that beautiful house?”

“Someone spray painted the word
liar
on the caretaker house.” Vanessa told Adele everything that had happened since Jack called her and told her to meet him at the caretaker house. “Sheriff’s deputies are still here, Adele. I really can’t talk. I’ve got guests checking in soon, and Carter will be home from day camp in a little while.”

“At least tell me your assessment. Do you think the graffiti was intended to be an accusation?”

Vanessa sighed. “I don’t know what to think. This could be in reference to Flynn’s murder. It could be about Noah’s claim that his ancestry connects him to Langley Manor. Or something unrelated to either. I haven’t talked to Noah, and I really don’t think it’s fair for me to have an opinion yet.”

“You’re such a good friend to him. I know he appreciates your support.”

Vanessa glanced over at Deputy Castille, who was writing something on his clipboard. “Maybe now he’ll let me get him a lawyer.”

Zoe walked out of the kitchen at Zoe B’s and over to the table by the window, where Father Sam, Hebert, and Tex were setting up for a game of checkers. The dining room was almost empty of customers, and the second-shift waitresses had already vacuumed the wood floor and changed out the tables with blue-and-gold fleur-de-lis tablecloths and put a fresh yellow daisy in each bud vase.

“You fellas want a snack to tide you over until we serve dinner?” she said.

“Nothin’ for me, thanks.” Tex took off his sport coat and hung it on the back of his chair.

Hebert shook his head. “Seeing Savannah so upset at da funeral stole my appetite. Dat was hard to see.”

“Indeed it was,” Father Sam said. “I baptized that girl when she was still a babe in arms. Her aunt Nicole was her godmother and was probably the age Savannah is now. Doesn’t seem that long ago either.”