Alan Radcliffe paced the polished oak floor of his smoking room, his mansion of a home seeming much too empty now that his wife was dead and his stepdaughter gone. He lit yet another cigar, angry that it was taking his good friend Prosecutor Gerald Hayes so long to get here. He had to act quickly, make sure no one knew the truth about his wife’s death. He wished he knew exactly what Emma had planned, where she’d
gone.
He should have acted sooner, gotten Emma thrown in prison before she had a chance to leave. If only he could have learned from her or her mother where the damn necklace was, a lot of his headaches would have been avoided. Now he was left looking for a way to keep his name clear and still find Emma. Once he did, there would be ways to make her talk. Maybe she would tell him where the necklace was if he could promise to keep her from spending the rest of her life in prison, although she damn well deserved
it!
He walked over to a large mirror hanging on one wall between two potted palms. Leaning closer, he adjusted his tie and smoothed back his thick, dark hair, thinking how distinguished he looked with a touch of white at the temples. The women thought him quite handsome, and he was proud of the fact that age had seemed only to improve his looks. He admired his tall and still well-built physique. He smoothed his velvet lounge jacket, glad he didn’t have the potbelly most older men developed. It seemed that older, handsome, well-dressed men with money were always attractive to women, even younger
ones.
“Except for Emma…the little bitch,” he grumbled, turning away. If things had worked out differently, he could have made a wonderful life for
her.
Finally someone thumped the heavy knocker at the front
door.
“It’s about time.” He took a deep breath against a bit of nervousness, then walked around to sit down behind his grand mahogany desk, waiting for the maid to answer the door. He set the cigar into an ashtray, listening to the distant voices and footsteps. In a twenty-room mansion it took a while for a visitor to make it to one of the back rooms. He thought about how all the bedrooms upstairs were empty now, except his own. He couldn’t bring another woman into the house until he waited a proper time after his wife’s death. It irked him that he had to wait, and he decided he would find a way to sneak some young wench into his bedroom without anyone knowing. There were plenty of women who would accept pay for giving him
pleasure.
The huge oak door opened, and his maid ushered Gerald Hayes
inside.
“Mr. Hayes to see you, Mr. Radcliffe,” she said with a slight
nod.
“Thank you, Bess.”
The young woman quickly left the room and closed the door behind
her.
“Gerald!” Alan rose and walked around his desk, towering over Hayes as he reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Glad you finally got here. I was afraid perhaps you’d forgotten our
appointment.”
Gerald removed his hat and shook Alan’s hand. “Sorry about that, Alan. A court case I had today took much longer than I thought it would. And since I haven’t seen you since your wife’s death, I’d like to take this moment to extend my sympathy—also my wife’s—over your loss. Sounds like it was a terrible
accident.”
“Thank you for your sympathy.” Alan turned and walked back behind his desk, asking Gerald to have a seat opposite him. “But that is why I called you here, Gerald. It wasn’t exactly an accident. Some things have been going on here that no one knew about, mainly because I didn’t want to sully my stepdaughter’s reputation. But things have gone too far, and now that Emma’s mother is dead and Emma has run
off—”
“Run
off?”
Alan nodded. “I feel it’s time you knew the truth. I need your
help.”
Gerald frowned, his bushy gray eyebrows nearly covering his eyelids when he did so. His matching gray mustache moved into a crooked dip as he pursed his lips in concern. He settled into a plush red leather chair and tossed his hat onto the seat of the chair beside him. “What on earth are you talking
about?”
Deep concern and feigned sorrow moved into Alan’s dark eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and looked steadily into Gerald’s eyes, determined to be as persuasive as possible, giving a deep sigh before
continuing.
“It was more of a murder, Gerald.”
Gerald’s eyebrows shot up in the other direction this time. “
More
of a murder?” He let out a gasp of exasperation. “Alan, murder is murder. There is no more or less about
it!”
“Well, let’s just say second-degree murder, somewhat intended but only at the last minute, not
planned.”
Gerald leaned back, shaking his head. “I’m afraid you’d better explain yourself, Alan. Are you saying
you—”
“No!” Alan interrupted. “Not me! It was
Emma.”
Gerald straightened again. “
Emma!
” He rose, walking around behind the chair. “Alan, get to the heart of the
story!”
Alan leaned back, rubbing his forehead. “Emma’s gone, Gerald. She ran away to escape the truth before I had her
arrested.”
Color came into the prosecutor’s cheeks. “For killing her own
mother?”
Alan closed his eyes. “I know it sounds impossible, but it’s true. Like I said, things have been going on here that no one knew about, Gerald. I’ve fought coming out with this story, wanting to protect Emma while at the same time wanting to see her put away for what she did. I loved her mother, very much, and I always loved Emma as any man would love his daughter… Stepdaughter in this case, but still like a daughter to me. She was, after all, my brother’s offspring, and when he died I hoped to take his place in her life when I married her
mother.”
Alan turned his chair around so that Gerald could not see his face as he continued his story. “But when Emma turned sixteen two years ago, she began having…womanly feelings toward me. I assure you, Gerald, that I did nothing to entice her. My God, she was my daughter. I never told her mother about any of it…the times when Emma would deliberately put her hand on my knee…or sinfully flirt with me when her mother wasn’t around. Once she came and sat on my lap in the library…and once she even…” He let out a long sigh. “She even came into my bedroom one night when her mother took that little trip to New
England.”
Gerald moved back around the chair to sit down as Radcliffe finally turned to face him again. “It kills me to have to tell you these things, Gerald, but I can’t live with it any longer. The night Mary died…she didn’t just trip and fall down those stairs. Emma pushed
her.”
Gerald closed his eyes and shook his head. “I find that hard to believe, Alan.”
“Believe it. She was jealous of Mary…wanted me for herself. She’d come to me more than once asking me to divorce her mother so we could be together. She’s still just a child, Gerald, who fell foolishly in love with her stepfather. You know how some young people can be about crushes. She wasn’t thinking straight, and she was upset at the fact that I constantly turned her away. In her mind it was only because of my loyalty to her mother, and I’m sure she thought that with her mother out of the way, she could have
me.”
“Alan, I find this all so hard to
fathom.”
“A lot of families keep terrible secrets, Gerald. Mine was one of them. I didn’t want others to know any of this because of the way they would think about young Emma. I didn’t want that for her. I thought she would eventually meet some young man her own age and fall in love and that would be the end of it. But the night of her mother’s death…she’d decided to tell Mary that she was in love with me. She lied and said I loved her, too, and we wanted to be together and that Mary should divorce me. A terrible argument ensued at the top of the stairs. I was in my bedroom changing at the time. I came out just in time to see Emma in a rage. She screamed, ‘Why don’t you just leave him and let me have him? I hate you!’ She pushed at Mary, and Mary tripped and fell down the
stairs.”
“My
God!”
Alan hung his head. “The worst part was when Emma ran down the stairs to find her mother’s neck was broken. At first she said, ‘Mama, I’m sorry.’ Then she looked up at me—no tears—and said that now we could finally be together. She left her mother and came back up the stairs, pleading with me to tell others it was just an accident and not to say anything about the argument. I’ve wrestled with the truth ever since, and now that Emma has run off, I just can’t handle it any
longer.”
Gerald kept shaking his head. “Emma? She and her mother seemed so close. Mary has only been in her grave a month or
so.”
“All the more proof of Emma’s guilt. She’s been gone since two days after Mary’s death. I was hoping she would return, which is why I waited to tell you, but it’s obvious she’s not coming back. Why would she have run off if she didn’t have something to hide? What more proof do you need that she committed a crime and is afraid of going to
prison?”
“Indeed.” Gerald scrutinized Alan with piercing eyes. “I hope you’re being honest with me, Alan. This is
serious.”
“Why would I be anything
but
honest?”
Gerald sighed. “Because sometimes you try to get favors out of people who owe you gambling money—favors instead of the money. You did it to me just a year or so ago, when you asked me to arrest a man who owed you money and threaten him with prison if he didn’t pay you off. You even threatened once that if I didn’t pay you off, you’d make sure the whole city knew I had a gambling
problem.”
“This is
different.”
“Is it? I owe you nearly a thousand dollars, Alan. And I know you and your wife were having problems over your drinking and gambling. How did Mary
really
die?”
Alan’s gaze darkened. “It was just as I told you. Yes, Emma and her mother were very close at one time, when Emma was little. But maturing into a woman did something to her, and her childish love for me turned into something
more.”
Alan stood up and walked to a window. “I sometimes wonder if it really was love, or if it was a desperate attempt to make sure she held on to the way of life she’d come to enjoy.” He turned. “After all, Gerald, her mother was once nothing more than a servant to my family, and a bastard child to boot. My parents accepted her marriage to my brother, and eventually she came to be accepted into society’s higher circles; but there was always that underlying gossip that she’d hoodwinked my brother into marriage so she could live like those for whom she’d worked for so many years. Having a daughter that bore our name just sealed her and Emma’s place in the
family.”
Gerald’s eyebrows moved upward. “I’m sorry to say my wife and I have thought the same thing at times, but we came to really like Mary and feel she genuinely loved your brother. But I have to say that when she married you, it raised even more questions. After all, your parents could have taken everything from her but the bare minimum for a decent life, although because Emma was their granddaughter, I doubt they would have done that. They were nice people. Of course, now they are both dead and gone, I’m sorry to say, so that gave Mary even more reason to be married to
you.”
Alan nodded. “Is it making sense now? Emma might have been thinking the same thing. What would happen to her once her mother was gone? Marrying me would have secured her future. With her mother out of the picture, she could make it all happen—at least that’s what
she
thought.”
“But surely she knew you
couldn’t
have married her. It’s
incest!”
“For heaven’s sake, Gerald, I wouldn’t have married her! I’m not an animal! I’m just telling you how
she
was thinking because of her foolish youth and her determination to have me.” Alan rubbed his head in a display of irritation. “She got anxious to make things happen sooner rather than later. She tried to break us up, and then…the accident. When she realized I truly would never marry her or return her affections, she got scared I would tell the truth about what happened, so she ran off.” He shook his head. “I tried to reason with her and told her that I would say it was more accident than
deliberate.”
Gerald rose. “Well, accident or not, she probably
would
go to prison, at least for a few months if nothing more. Of course, it would still be quite a disgrace, and she’d lose her inheritance.” He sighed. “Are you asking me to arrest
her?”
Alan rubbed at the back of his neck as though regretting his decision. “I hate doing that to Mary’s daughter, but yes, I think she should be arrested. If you can serve up a warrant, I’ll take care of the rest. I am going to find her for you, Gerald. I have a few ideas about where she might be—maybe at her mother’s friend’s place in New England, maybe at our Florida estate, maybe in some other city. I had a considerable amount of money in one of my drawers. She took it—stole from me—and that must be what she’s living
on.”
And
she’s got the damn necklace, I’m sure of it
, he thought.
That
alone
would
keep
her
just
fine
for
a
long, long time.
He was not about to tell Gerald about the necklace he’d coveted ever since marrying Mary. He’d never been able to get her to tell him where it was, but Emma damn well knew, he was sure of it. She’d taken it and fled his
clutches.
“Well, this is quite some bit of news, Alan.” Gerald picked up his hat. “I can have my own investigators go looking for
Emma.”
“No. I don’t want this known to anyone but you and me and whatever judge issues the warrant. Make sure he knows that. I want this kept quiet for as long as possible. I’ll take care of the search. You have enough on your hands, keeping the law in a city the size of New York. Just bring me an extra copy of the warrant so I can have it with me if and when I find her, so I can show it to the law enforcement there and bring her back here with me. I don’t want this to hit the papers until you and I and Emma talk about what should be done about this.” He walked closer. “Do me that favor, will you? After all, you owe me quite a gambling debt, remember?”