Beyond a Doubt(28)

He stood, walked around the desk, and held her in a tight embrace. Leaning back and studying her, he said, “This is the most company I’ve had in awhile. Most days I see only clients, especially since my wife passed on. And to make it even more unusual, the two parties who paid me a visit did so because of your father.” A hint of melancholy entered his tone, yet Lucy ignored his emotion and focused on what he’d said.

“What do you mean, both parties came for my father?”

Mr. Hampstead released her and focused on Bryce in a squinting motion. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” replied Bryce.

“I’m George Hampstead.”

“Nice to meet ye. I’m Bryce Cameron.”

Lucy tugged at Mr. Hampstead’s arm and he quickly faced her. “You were saying?”

Redirecting his attention, he continued, “Aye, as I was saying, a gentleman came by for your father. He wasn’t surprised when I mentioned his passing. He just said he was collecting some of your father’s old things. And don’t get upset, dear, but even though I told you I would keep all of his belongings in place, I just couldn’t do everything on my own. What with my wife’s illness, I needed help.”

Desperately, Lucy grabbed George’s arms and stared into his eyes. “This gentleman, you didn’t give him father’s belongings, did you?”

“Of course not. But I did tell him they held little worth. He seemed unconcerned and wanted to know where the items were stored.”

“And where are they?”

“Child, I fear your tone is quite alarming.”

“Please, Mr. Hampstead, this is very important.”

“Well, all right, then. Your father’s belongings are boxed up and resting in my wardrobe, if you must know.”

“We have to go there now,” said Lucy.

“But—“

Lucy pulled him from his seat and pushed him toward the door.

“Lucy, I’ve never seen you this way. You do realize I feel as if I’m being taken against my will.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Hampstead, but as I said, this is extremely important and it cannot wait.”

“So you said. Will Mr. Cameron be coming with us?”

“Aye, he will.”

“Just let me grab my cloak—“

“Mr. Hampstead, it is warm out, you don’t need a cloak. Now, let’s go. I need those papers.” She tried to sound strong and intimidating.

Bryce sent her a concerned look, which she ignored. He clasped his hands together and said, “Sir, we are sorry to hear about yer wife.”

“Aye, she was very ill. In the end, I suppose she is in a much better place…”

As George continued to prattle on about his wife, Lucy felt like stomping her foot. They had no time to talk, but as her ire rose, she noticed what they were doing. As Mr. Hampstead spoke, Bryce guided him toward the door. Surprised, she followed quickly as the office door was closed and locked behind them. They reached the street.

Bryce and Mr. Hampstead walked together. The old lawyer expressed his sorrow over his wife’s illness and demise while Bryce listened attentively. Not realizing how quickly they moved, Lucy was surprised when they stood in front of the Hampstead home. Mr. Hampstead opened the door and they walked inside.

He retrieved a box full of papers and set it in front of her. Lucy rifled through the contents while Bryce and Mr. Hampstead talked.

After she had gone through the papers once, then again, Lucy put them back in the box. What they searched for didn't seem to be there. Why had she thought something dear to her heart would reside on some old piece of paper that could be placed in a box?

Her father’s belongings were never dear to her, but the place where they were kept was. That had to be the answer. In the office there had to be a secret compartment. A place her father would have hidden an object of value. He would never place anything so important in his desk, where it could be moved or misplaced by any manner of people.

Unable to stand still, Lucy hopped from one foot to the other. Finally the two men noticed her, and she said, “We need to go back to the office. I need to search it from top to bottom.”

“But I already told you, all of his belongings are—“

“What about the books on the shelves? Or what about a secret compartment or hiding hole? There must be some place you haven’t searched?”

“The books belonged to both of us. And I know of no other place in the office that would hide anything. I don’t understand how any of this helps you.”

Bryce took over, his calm demeanor having a soothing effect on Mr. Hampstead. “Lucy is searching for something, a scrap piece of paper or a book. Something that would have been of great importance and significance to her father.”

George laughed under his breath. “Good luck there. Your father was notorious for burying pieces of parchment all over the office. Somehow he always remembered the hiding place he chose. I never could understand how he kept it all straight. He would say, ‘I need that piece of paper’ on such-and-such case, then he would spring from his chair, pull a book from the shelf, and pull out the necessary paper. It was amazing. But as for a special paper, I have no idea.”

“So can we go back?” she asked, hoping to get her way by pleading.

“But of course. Although I hope you have several days to look. When I assembled the items in that box, I found all I could. It took days to do that much. The rest will take ages to search.”





Chapter Forty-Five




Lucy followed the two men, fretting all the way. By the time they arrived at George’s office, Lucy was distraught. George opened the door. One step inside the small office and Lucy knew exactly what had happened.

The man who’d left the office earlier, the one who’d seemed so familiar, had been the man who had followed Bryce and her in the park. The same man likely held the responsibility for ruining her home and now destroying Mr. Hampstead’s office.

The elderly lawyer tiptoed across the threshold. His eyes widened and he placed a hand to his chest as if in shock. “My office. Wh-what happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said.

“What could they possibly want? There was nothing here of any value. Nothing but old books and case documents.”

“Mr. Hampstead, let us help you clean this up,” Lucy said.

He nodded and went to the corner. Righting an overturned chair, George sat and rested his head in his hands. Bryce moved farther into the room. He picked up books, rifled through the pages and placed them back on the shelf in no particular order. Lucy picked up a book and did the same.

Depression hit a few hours later when they realized the mess before them was their only lead. The odds of finding what they sought had just become more dismal.

As they worked, George mumbled and muttered under his breath. Suddenly he stopped talking and a wail rent the air.

Bryce looked at her expectantly, but Lucy felt lost and didn’t know what to do.

Mr. Hampstead held a dried rose. He turned it over and over before offering it to Lucy. She stroked the brittle petals.

George said, “This was the first rose I ever gave my wife.”

Lucy waited. George sighed and said, “She kept everything.”

He placed the rose back in a book and continued speaking. “My wife was not perfect, mind you, but she was close to it. Almost completely blind, she was, and the physicians said they could do nothing for her. She only had vision on the sides, you see. But did you know she cared for the young children at church? Yes indeed, if a mother had more than one babe, she would go sit with them and help. Why, that woman was dear to so many hearts.”

Upon hearing those last words, Lucy dropped the book she was holding, startling the others. She grabbed the sides of Mr. Hampstead’s sagging jowls and gave him a huge kiss. Then she grabbed Bryce’s hand and ran out the door, leaving a gawking Mr. Hampstead behind. Exuberance propelled her forward.

“Where are we goin’—“

“Bryce, come on. We have to hurry.”

Bryce followed. When they arrived at their destination, Lucy held up her hand to stop Bryce. The entrance was large and foreboding. Stone lions perched like sentries above. Iron bars closed the place to visitors. A chain dangled and clanked in the wind.

A sense of solemnity overcame her. With one hand, she touched the cold metal and pushed. The chain clattered to the ground. A loud creaking rent the air.

A thin white mist covered the ground and moved aside as they walked. Perfectly trimmed hedges circled the place and filtered through the thick white veil.

Total silence surrounded them. No crickets chirped. No birds tweeted. No frogs croaked. Lucy could only hear the soft sounds of their breathing.

Each marker in the graveyard was unique. Names, dates, and designs all represented the person resting underneath.