The Fate of Mercy Alban (29 page)

“I think you would’ve handled things just fine, with or without me. But I’m glad it was with me.”

I sighed. “You don’t think there’s any doubt that Mercy did this, do you?”

“I’m afraid not, Grace,” Matthew said. “Who else? Maybe Jane told her that the nurse from the hospital in Switzerland was coming to get her. Maybe that’s what set her off.”

My daughter’s face floated through my mind just then, and an ache reverberated through my core. “Do you think I should call Amity and let her know what’s going on?”

Matthew shook his head. “She’s safe at Heather’s, right?”

“For the night, yes.”

“And there’s no reason they might head back to Alban House?”

I had given Amity strict orders to stay away from the house. I didn’t believe she would go against my wishes on this. “None that I can think of.”

“Then I wouldn’t call her, not until we know what’s going on with Jane,” he said, leaning back and resting his head on the sofa. “When you have something to tell her, some news that presumably Jane’s going to be okay, then you can call.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn’t have a chance because Chief Bellamy poked his head through the door of our waiting room, rapping slightly as he did. He held four paper cups in a cardboard tray.

Mr. Jameson followed him into the room and slumped back down into his chair as the chief handed the cups all around. “I understand Jane’s in surgery, the victim of a stabbing,” he said.

“That’s right,” I said, sitting up a little straighter and taking a sip of the coffee. It was bitter and harsh.

“Start from the top,” the chief said, taking a seat and turning to Mr. Jameson.

“I was in the carriage house with Carter,” he began, his voice wavering. “We were playing cards. Jane had let him know she was going out, and there we were, waiting for her. She didn’t come and she didn’t come, so I called up to the house. When she didn’t answer …” He sighed. “If only I had been in the kitchen with her.”

“Then what happened?” the chief prodded.

“It’s not like Jane to keep us waiting so long without a word, and it’s certainly not like her to not answer when I call,” her husband went on, a mix of guilt and shame radiating from his face. “Carter and I rushed up to the house, thinking something must be wrong. We found her in the kitchen.” His eyes were brimming with tears. “Carter called 911 and then called Miss Alban.”

“And where were you, Grace?” the chief said, turning to me.

“Matthew and I had met for breakfast at the Breakwater, and when we got back to the house—” I turned to Matthew. “What time was it? Around ten thirty? Eleven?” He nodded. “We thought the house was empty. Jane was supposed to be going to the pharmacy, so I assumed that’s what she was doing when she didn’t come to greet me.”

“She usually did that?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice cracking. “Every time I’ve walked through the door at Alban House, Jane has been there to welcome me home.”

Mr. Jameson blew his nose and coughed into his handkerchief.

“But not today,” I went on. “That’s why we thought she was out. We were in my study when Carter called us to come down to the kitchen, and that’s where we saw Jane.”

Chief Bellamy held up one palm. “Let’s back up just a minute,” he said. “You’ve had a police presence at the house since you called about the break-in several days ago. Do you believe this is related to that break-in?”

Matthew and I exchanged a look. I wasn’t sure what I believed. “Chief,” I said finally, “there’s a lot you don’t know.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I’ve got nothing but time, Grace. Start from the beginning.”

And so I told him about Harris Peters showing up on the day of my mother’s funeral in an effort to dig up dirt about my family for the exposé he was writing.

“He’s the journalist who was supposed to meet with my mother the day she died,” I said. “You had already left the reception, but two of your men were there. I think your guys questioned him after the second break-in, the day of the funeral when we found our rooms had been rifled through.”

And then I told him about my aunt, whom Peters had found in Switzerland, and how he brought her to the house after my mother’s funeral.

“Let me stop you for a second, Grace,” Chief Bellamy said, his intense eyes boring into mine. “As far as I know, and I’ve known your mother for thirty years, you don’t have an aunt on either side of the family. Can you connect the dots for me?”

I took a deep breath in. “There is a lot of backstory here, but suffice it to say that she basically disappeared fifty years ago, hadn’t been heard from since, and the entire family thought she was dead.”

Chief Bellamy blinked several times. “Oh,
that
aunt? Alive? I remember the story about her. Wasn’t Fate her name? ”

“Yes, but it’s a little more complicated than that, I’m afraid. We initially thought she was Fate Alban, but as it turns out, she is Fate’s twin sister, Mercy, who, as far as anyone in the family knew, had died when she was a child. You might imagine it was quite a shock to learn she was alive and kicking.”

“On the day of your mother’s funeral, no less,” the chief said.

“Exactly,” I went on. “But that shock wasn’t anything compared to the one when I found out where she had been for the past half century. I talked to her doctor this morning.”

I paused for a moment before continuing. I knew if I went on, I’d be opening a can of worms that I could never close. But I felt I had no choice. “She’d been in Switzerland, in a hospital for the criminally insane that my grandfather basically built for her.”

“Dear God,” he said, shaking his head.

“And there’s more,” I said, sensing a floodgate somewhere inside of me had been opened. The information kept pouring out; I was powerless to stop it. “She’s supposed to be on medication, antipsychotics or something, and the doctor has been quite worried about her since she turned up missing. That’s why Jane was headed to the pharmacy today, to pick up those medications. She was taking my aunt with her because she didn’t want to leave her alone in the house.”

“So you’ve got someone who has been in a lockup for the
criminally insane
for fifty years. She’s here now and off her medications. And you believe she might be the one who did this to Mrs. Jameson. Is that what you’re telling me, Grace?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

The chief stood up, fished his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed. “There’s an older lady who has been staying at Alban House. An Alban relative, yes. She’s probably about”—he shot me a look—“seventy?” I nodded. “Have you seen anyone like that at the house? Well, find her, Johnson. She is psychotic and off her medication, and—have you found the weapon? In that case, she might still have it with her. I know she’s seventy but you’re to consider her armed and dangerous. I want the house searched from top to bottom, and I want her taken into custody.”

He hung up. “Grace, you need to know that the house is now a crime scene. Until my people finish up there, I’m going to have to ask that you stay away.”

“Understood.” I nodded. From years of watching police dramas on television, I had expected as much. “For how long?”

“They’ll be gathering evidence, fingerprinting, that sort of thing. It could take from a few hours to overnight.”

I certainly could go to a hotel for the night, but looking down at my jeans and flats, I realized I had no pajamas, no change of clothes. And then the image of the manuscript, sitting on an ottoman in the study, flashed into my mind. With it, an icy tendril of dread overcame me. The precious manuscript was so exposed, so vulnerable. Why hadn’t I remembered to lock it up?

“Can I go into the house to get some things?” I tried. “I don’t have so much as a toothbrush with me.”

The chief looked at me long and hard. “No, Grace. Let us do our work. I’m sure you can find what you need at the drugstore.”

I shrugged at him and smiled, but inside my stomach was turning. “Any excuse to go shopping, I guess,” I joked.

The chief got to his feet, his work here done, and was on his way out. I stood to walk him to the door when a thought hit me. Looking from the chief to Matthew and back again, I said: “I just remembered—a nurse from the hospital in Switzerland is on her way here to bring my aunt back there.”

“When is she going to arrive?” the chief wanted to know.

“I have no idea,” I said. “Jane made the arrangements. It could be a few hours from now. It could be tomorrow. I think she’s coming directly to the house.”

“I’m on my way over there right now,” the chief said. “I’ll alert my men. Maybe this nurse can be a help to us when she shows up.

“You know, Grace,” he continued, clearing his throat, “if your aunt is the one who attacked Mrs. Jameson, I am going to take her into custody. This is attempted murder we’re talking about.” He glanced at Mr. Jameson. “If she’s guilty, she will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. This story will come out.”

I nodded and felt myself bracing for the onslaught of media that would surely come. “I know.”

“And another thing,” he said, drawing out his words. “I know I don’t have to tell you this, but considering your lineage, I thought I’d bring it up, anyway. You do know she’s not getting on a plane with that nurse until she faces these charges.”

“I know,” I repeated.

He took my hands. “We’ll get this handled for you, Gracie. Sooner rather than later. I’ll be in touch.”

And then he was gone. I slumped back down onto the couch and looked from Matthew to Mr. Jameson and back again, not knowing quite what to say.

A few minutes later, Carter appeared at the door, escorted by a young nurse. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m fine,” he said, pulling his arm away from her and wavering a bit on his feet. I stood up and took his arm, leading him to one of the chairs.

“Mr. Carter was resting in the ER and he insisted he be allowed to come back here to wait with you,” she explained.

“I feel like a bloody fool,” he said, sitting down with a thud.

“Not at all,” I told him. “You had quite a shock.”

“That’s exactly what it was,” he said, smiling slightly. “Mild shock. They took my vitals and gave me a little happy juice in an IV drip.”

Mr. Jameson reached over and patted his knee. “It’s not the usual course of events on any given day, is it, old boy?”

The two men exchanged a charged look. “Something’s got to be done,” Carter said, his voice low. “You know it as well as I do.”

I waited for him to say more, but the look that passed between the two men told me that the subject, whatever the subject was, was now closed.

“Carter,” I began, “the chief let us know that the house is now a crime scene. I’m putting up Cody and Jason in a hotel, and while you could stay in the carriage house, I’d feel better if you were safe in a hotel, too, until all of this is settled. How does the presidential suite at the Sheraton sound?”

“Oh, Miss Grace, that’s certainly not necessary.” He shook his head, a slight smile creeping from the corners of his mouth.

“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to do it. You deserve it. After we’re done here, we’ll take you there and you can live in the lap of luxury for a while.” I turned to Mr. Jameson. “I’m assuming you’re going to stay here at the hospital with Jane?”

“If they’ll allow it, aye.” His eyes were rimmed in red, his face radiated hope mixed with sadness.

“Allow it?” I managed a smile, leaning over and squeezing his knee. “My great-grandfather built this hospital, my grandfather built the neonatal ward, my father built the cancer wing, and my mother was on the board. You can bet they’ll allow it.”

The minutes crept by as I paced, Mr. Jameson stared at the floor, and Carter chatted softly with Matthew about church business. Finally, a doctor in surgical scrubs and a nurse appeared in the doorway. The doctor pulled off his surgical cap as Mr. Jameson jumped to his feet. I rose and took his hand.

“The news is good,” the doctor said. “She came through the surgery just fine, and she’s in recovery.”

I hugged Mr. Jameson as he murmured, “Oh, thank God.” Turning to the doctor, he said: “Can I see her?”

“I’ll ask you to wait until she’s out of recovery and into her room,” the doctor said, nodding. “It won’t be long now.”

“Please make sure they put Mrs. Jameson in the Alban suite,” I said to the nurse, referring to the private set of rooms reserved for my family. “Her husband will be staying with her overnight as well. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all, Miss Alban.”

Mr. Jameson nodded his thanks to me with a slight smile. “I’ll call you later to check on her,” I said, squeezing his hand. “And don’t make me worry about you, too—make sure you eat something. Not hospital food, either. Call Smith’s and order yourself some dinner, and have them send me the bill. Promise?”

“I will, miss,” he said over his shoulder to me as the nurse led him away, the relief dripping off him.

I turned to Carter, who looked exhausted. “Let’s get you to the hotel,” I said to him, eyeing Matthew. “I think you could use a good dinner and a nice long soak in the Jacuzzi.”

“That sounds positively decadent,” Carter said as we headed off down the hallway toward the door. “Positively decadent indeed.”