Ghost on the Case (Bailey Ruth #8)(47)

I felt a sinking sensation. I was sure Susan said the Fitch place instead of the Fitch cabin because of the cabin’s remote location. Susan wanted to forestall Sylvie demanding to accompany her. Now this discrepancy would likely be used against Susan: Why did you lie to your sister, Ms. Gilbert?

“You looking for her here?” Warren took a step nearer, his blue eyes intent. “Maybe I can help. Start from the first, miss. Your name.”

Susan was a person of interest now en route to the jail to be held as a material witness so, of course, she had been read her Miranda rights. Sylvie, so far as the police knew, was not involved with the murder at the cabin, but she was seeking Susan not far from the site of the murder. Warren was as alert as a coon dog on a hunt.

“Sylvie Gilbert.” She swung toward Ben. “Are you sure she’s not here? She was coming here.”

“Now, miss.” Warren was as charming as only a cop scenting pay dirt can be. “Let’s calm down. I’ll be glad to help if you’ll just tell me what happened. When did you last see your sister?”

“A little before ten. The phone rang and I answered and this man asked for Susan so I gave the phone to her. . . .”

I had a dire sense that Sylvie might be digging Susan a very deep hole. But there was nothing I could do to stop Sylvie’s well-meant revelations.

? ? ?

I was familiar with the long hall of cells in the Adelaide City Jail. The door between the police department and the jail required the correct code punched into a keypad to gain entry. Not, of course, an impediment for me. Cells lined both sides of a long hallway. Stark fluorescent ceiling lights burned day and night.

Susan was in the cell nearest the door. She was lying on the bunk attached to the back wall. A toilet and washbasin were in one corner. In the light from in the hallway, I could see that her eyes were open. I was pleased that she still wore the tan sweater and long skirt. One suede shoe sat on the floor next to the bunk. The other likely was in an evidence bag and would be tested to see if the bloodstain matched Carl Ross’s blood. A thin cotton blanket covered her feet. The air in the cellblock was dry and the temperature warm.

I stood next to the bunk, whispered, “Did you contact Megan Wynn?”

She stiffened. Her gaze jerked toward me but, of course, she saw only empty space.

“It’s all right. I’m here beside you.”

She swung her legs over the edge of the bunk, sat up. “I told Megan you were Jimmy’s redheaded friend. She said, Tell her Blaine and I are getting married next month. Thanks to her. I told Megan everything. She said I was to decline to answer any questions and that she’d be back to see me tomorrow. You know what she didn’t tell me?”

“What?”

“She didn’t tell me I was a done duck, but I watched her face. I think that’s what I’d look like if somebody unshackled a bear in front of me and told me the bear was my problem. But she said when this was all over, we’d have lunch and she’d tell me things she’d never told anyone, and she bet I had some interesting experiences, too. So if I’m crazy, she’s crazy, too, and she doesn’t seem at all crazy. I know she’ll do her best, and I appreciate your trying to help, but I don’t think anything anyone does will matter now. Megan tried to sound encouraging. She said miracles happen. I thought about it after she left. You have any miracles tucked in your purse?”

“Saint Jude is in charge of miracles.”

At her blank look I continued hurriedly, “Tell me what happened tonight.”

She sighed. “Dumb me. I should have known better. I was feeling kind of upbeat after you left this afternoon. You seemed so certain that a luncheon guest killed Wilbur that I thought maybe the police would realize a bunch of people had motives and I was a kind of innocent bystander. Of course it didn’t help matters that I filched the money box from the safe even though I thought I had to. Cops take safecracking seriously. But still I thought maybe everything would work out. Sylvie and I went to the new steak place and it was nice.” A sudden smile. “The waiter was probably nineteen and he talked in a stilted voice. I am Jacques and it is my pleasure to serve you. I could tell Sylvie thought he was cute. The steaks cost a fortune, and I can fix a better one for half the price, but the music was cheerful, show tunes, and for a little while I didn’t feel like a face on a wanted poster. We’d only been home a few minutes when my cell rang. I’d dropped it with my purse on the table by the door. Sylvie popped up and answered. She covered the receiver and whispered, It’s a guy and he’s calling from the Fitch house. Maybe it’s that cute Ben. Ben Fitch came over to the house this afternoon—”

“I spoke with him.”

“—and I guess I think he’s cute, too, because I was kind of excited. I took the phone and—”

I interrupted again. “Try to repeat exactly what was said.”

“A man’s voice. Very low, quiet. He said, Miss Gilbert? I said, Yes. He said, Carl Ross. I know something that may help you with the police, but I don’t want to get involved. Come to the cabin at ten. I’ll be watching. If anyone’s with you, I won’t show up. He hung up. Of course Sylvie was looking at me and she knew from my face that the call was something odd, something disturbing. I told her I needed to talk to someone about the murder. She wanted to know who called and I told her it was Wilbur’s butler, that he knew something but he didn’t want to get involved with the police and I was going to go over to the Fitch place for a few minutes. She would have insisted on coming with me if I told her I was going to the cabin. She wanted to come with me anyway, but I told her I had to go by myself, he wouldn’t show up unless I was alone. I told her I’d be back soon and made her promise she’d stay home. Does she know where I am? She’ll be panicked.”