Sins of the Mother Page 2
“Looks like he was in a hurry,” Ivy said with a shrug.
“He’s a very busy man,” Zasha said, letting out a sigh of relief. “So, New York? Why did you leave?”
“I’ve got a client who lives in these parts,” Ivy said, looking over her shoulder to where Mr. Turner’s truck was still heading.
“A client?” Zasha echoed curiously. “What’s the name? Maybe I know them. I know most people in these parts. If you want, I could take you to them instead.”
“Don’t worry about that, darling,” Ivy said, shrugging delicately. “I’ll find my way around as soon as my Roadster’s up and running again. I won’t be here long.”
A wave of relief washed over Zasha. Things would soon be back to normal, then. A lot of strange things had been happening lately, and she worried that the appearance of this exotic woman meant that things would get worse. If the woman left soon then her presence would be nothing more than a blip on the radar, and they could all get back to normal. Zasha had an unsettling feeling in her stomach that something fundamental had shifted, and no matter how much she tried to convince herself that it was all in her imagination, she’d been waiting for something. If Ivy were that something, then maybe that feeling would go away.
“That’s a real shame,” Zasha said insincerely. “New Hope is nice this time of year.”
“I’m sure it is,” Ivy said with a small smile that made Zasha’s hand itch.
She was convinced that Ivy was humoring her. If there was one thing that Zasha hated, it was when people treated her like a kid. It was as if her age meant that she didn’t know anything.
“Maybe not as nice as New York, but still nice,” Zasha said, narrowing her eyes as she looked over the field they were walking past.
In the distance, she spotted a cow grazing in the crops and her heart clenched. That was a part of Mr. Turner’s herd. Why were the cows in the northern field?
“I like to think that every place has its own charm,” Ivy said kindly. “After all, if someone chose to make their home there, then there must be something good about the place. And New Hope certainly is very homely.”
“Right,” Zasha said absently, her eyes searching for one of the farmhands. Did the Turners know that the cows were in the crops? She couldn’t think of a single reason why they’d let the cows graze on the corn on purpose. “Listen, could you wait here for a while? I need to go tell my friend something.”
The Turners would be having lunch right about now, and she dreaded the thought of walking into the dining room and facing the whole family after the events of the previous weekend. However, she knew that Mr. Turner was counting on this year’s harvest. Evelyn was supposed to get married soon, and Mr. Turner promised to build the new couple a house.
“What’s wrong?” Ivy asked in surprise.
As Zasha was about to answer, the roar of an engine cut through the air again. This time it was louder, and more labored. Zasha looked over to see Mr. Turner’s truck racing toward them. Her heart stopped. The expression on his face would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life. He raced past, and Zasha felt that same unsettling fear creep into her stomach. Something terrible had happened.
Chapter Two
By the time Ivy and Zasha made it to town, Ivy looked like a wilted flower. Even the glamorous New Yorker wasn’t immune to New Hope’s oppressive heat. Her neat clothes were disheveled, and her shiny leather shoes were dusty. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and Ivy’s pretty red hair looked lifeless and dull. Zasha thought it was a pity that New Hope had sucked the sophistication out of Ivy so quickly. Then again, that was the town’s sole purpose. It could never tolerate anything that didn’t belong.
“Is this the town square?” Ivy asked, perking up slightly when she looked around.
New Hope was a pretty town. The Mayor’s wife made sure of that. Last year, she had decreed that they should build a park in the middle of the town, after her own trip to New York to visit her sister. The town had obliged, no one ever said no to Mrs. Grey, and within a few months, the town had its own knock-off version of Central Park. All the main businesses lined the square, and a few upstanding citizens lived in the neighboring blocks.
Mrs. Estelle Bleeker, the richest woman in town, was the only one who had lived on the edge of the square itself. Zasha’s own house was right behind Mrs. Bleeker’s house and right next to the mayor’s house. Although it should’ve been an honor, it just meant that Zasha’s family was subjected to regular visits from Mrs. Grey who insisted that as pillars of the community, they should lead by example for the less privileged.
Mrs. Grey had such a bearing on Zasha’s life, that until she was seven years old, Zasha assumed that Mrs. Grey was related to them. And just like meddling extended family, Mrs. Grey felt it was her duty to inform Zasha’s parents whenever Mrs. Grey felt that Zasha was going astray. In fact, it was Mrs. Grey who had blabbered about what had happened last weekend.
“The one and only,” Zasha said with a sigh. “Over there’s the bank, the doctor, the lawyer, and the mayor’s office. Oh, and Café Dorothy. My papa says it’s the only place in the county that serves a decent cup of coffee.”
“Oh, thank the stars,” Ivy said with a chuckle, “I don’t think I’d be able to survive without that. Tell me, is that lawyer’s name Mr. Hyde?”
“How’d you know that?” Zasha asked in surprise, her eyes widening.
“He’s my client,” Ivy said with a simple shrug. “Besides, I figured a place like this wouldn’t have too many lawyers.”
Zasha didn’t say anything.
“I think I’ll leave you here,” Ivy said, looking around curiously. “I’m sure Mr. Hyde will have a phone.”
Although Zasha had hoped that the strange woman would leave quickly, she found that the prospect of saying goodbye to Ivy depressed her. What would she do now? Anything else would be boring compared to spending time with the stranger, and she was reluctant to go home where she was still public enemy number one.
“I’ll go with you,” Zasha decided, “I haven’t seen Mr. Hyde since Mrs. Bleeker died. I should probably give him my condolences.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Ivy said suddenly, holding up her hand. “His office is right there.”
Zasha shrugged, and walked past Ivy, still pushing her bike alongside her. Ivy frowned at the determined young woman and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Small town people could never catch a hint.
Mr. Hyde’s office was a crowded room full of heavy furniture and stacks of books. If he had been a lawyer in a bigger town or city, he would’ve been expected to clean things up or appear more professional. Luckily for him, this was New Hope, and no one particularly cared what his office looked like.
When Zasha pushed the door open, he looked up guiltily from his book, with a powdered sugar moustache, a remnant of his teatime snack.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hyde,” Zasha said cheerfully, enjoying the way his face slackened with shock when he caught a glimpse of Ivy.
“Zasha!” Mr. Hyde exclaimed in his trademark high-pitched voice. “What a surprise! And on a Sunday afternoon too! How was church this morning? I meant to go, but you know how things are with Mrs. Bleeker’s… incident.”
Zasha smiled indulgently. She found it amusing that everyone in town referred to Mrs. Bleeker’s murder as the incident. It wasn’t surprising that everyone would want to hide from the fact that the old widow had met an untimely end, especially since this was only New Hope’s second murder since it had been founded.
Last weekend, she and Evelyn had discussed it at length. Evelyn pointed out that after the war, no one wanted anything to do with tragedy. They would rather stick their heads in the sand and hope for it to pass than have to face something that might bring up unpleasant memories. Especially since some of the men who had returned were still struggling with night terrors.
“I’m awfully sorry to disturb you,” Zasha said sweetly, “I know you’re not working right now.”
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Hyde said, waving his hand dismissively, “it’s always a pleasure to see one of the Ross girls. Who’s your friend?”
“My name is Ivy Morris,” Ivy said, walking up to him and extending her hand for him to shake.”
“Morris…” Mr. Hyde said slowly, staring at her from behind his round spectacles. “Oh! You must be Mr. Morris’ wife. Is your husband on his way? I’ve been expecting him.”
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake,” Ivy said coolly. “I don’t have a husband.”
“You don’t…” Mr. Hyde said with a frown. “But then who’s the private detective?”
“Private detective?” Zasha gasped despite herself, looking at Ivy with renewed awe. At the same time, her stomach dropped. She had been right, something big was coming. There was no way that things would be normal while Ivy was around.
“I am,” Ivy said firmly, sticking her hands in her pockets and fixing Mr. Hyde with a level stare, causing him to blush and splutter. “You hired me, and here I am. What can I help you with? Your telegram mentioned something about a suspicious death?”
“Wait,” Zasha said, looking between the both of them as though she were watching a game of tennis. “Why did you hire a private detective, Mr. Hyde? Mrs. Bleeker’s maid confessed to the murder. They say that she’ll go to jail for life.”
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Hyde said, ignoring Zasha, “but there’s been some sort of mistake. I was expecting, well… A proper investigator. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go back.”
“I am a proper investigator,” Ivy said, frowning at Mr. Hyde. “I belonged to the Intelligence Corps during the war. I helped crack codes from the enemies. A small-town murder is nothing compared to what I’ve solved before.”
“That may be the case,” Mr. Hyde said, obviously not believing Ivy’s words, “but this is a delicate matter that requires a delicate hand. I’d prefer a more experienced professional. I’m sure you can understand where I’m coming from.”
“No,” Ivy said, shaking her head. “I’m afraid I don’t. It sounds to me like you can’t handle a woman in trousers, Mr. Hyde. You don’t think I can do this job because I’m a woman.”
“I never said that” Mr. Hyde said uncomfortably. “I feel that I’ve been deceived. Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning that you were a woman? You went out of your way to hide that fact for some reason, and I can’t be blamed for being surprised.”
“Why would I have to disclose the fact that I’m a woman? Do you often go around asking your service providers their gender?” Ivy quipped, leaning all her weight on one hip.
“There’s no need for impertinence,” Mr. Hyde said, his cheeks becoming red. “I’m shocked, and for good reason. This is highly unusual, and I wish that I could’ve had some warning. I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work.”
“You’ve already made me come all the way down here,” Ivy huffed. “The least you could do is give me a chance to prove myself. Besides, it seems a waste of money to pay me for two day’s work when I haven’t done anything.”
“Two days?” Mr. Hyde echoed, getting to his feet. “What are you talking about? I’m not paying you anything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, old man,” Ivy said, taking a step forward, emphasizing the fact that she was at least a foot taller than the lawyer. “When you employed me, you agreed to my terms and conditions. It took me a whole day to get down to this forsaken little hole, and it will take me a whole day to get back. You agreed to pay for my travel costs.”
“That’s preposterous,” Mr. Hyde snapped. “You can’t make me pay for … You haven’t even! No, this isn’t right.”
“It’s all perfectly legal, Mr. Hyde,” Ivy said, tilting her head slightly. “I’m sorry it had to come down to this, but it’s your choice. You can fire me and pay me for two days of work. Or you could be reasonable and let me do the job you hired me to do. It’s obvious that you need help, or else you wouldn’t have hired me.”
“Come on, Mr. Hyde,” Zasha urged. “The least you could do is let her try. What’s one more day? Besides, if you fire her now, then you’ll have to go through all the effort of hiring someone else, which just seems like a waste of time.”
“Does your papa know where you are?” Mr. Hyde asked, turning on Zasha with a burning glare.
Zasha looked away sheepishly, her cheeks bright red. Great, that’s just what she needed, one more upstanding member of the community bringing home a report of her bad behavior. She wasn’t sure what her father would do with her anymore. The only thing left was to lock her in her room. She shuddered at the thought. Surely her father wouldn’t do something like that to her. Especially since he knew what kind of effect it would have on her.
“Leave the girl out of this,” Ivy ordered, stepping in front of Zasha. “This is between me and your prejudice. What’s your choice, Mr. Hyde? Are you going to be reasonable?”
“You’re the one who’s being unreasonable,” Mr. Hyde scowled. “You tricked me into agreeing to ridiculous terms and deceived me about who you were. How am I supposed to trust you with such sensitive information?”
“You know, if Mrs. Bleeker knew you’d hired a female private investigator to look into her death, she would’ve been pleased as punch,” Zasha said, causing Ivy to look at her in annoyance.
Mr. Hyde frowned, causing his brow to crease into a thousand tiny wrinkles.
The door burst open behind Zasha, and someone barreled in, causing her to stumble. The bull of a man who knocked her aside didn’t stop to check if she was alright. Zasha looked up indignantly, but her recriminations died in her throat when she saw the man’s expression. She recognized him as one of the Turner’s farmhands.
“Quick, sir,” he said breathlessly. “There’s been a murder on the Turner farm.”
Chapter Three
Mr. Hyde immediately walked away from his desk. He didn’t spare a backward glance as he walked.
“When I return, Ms. Morris, I expect you to be gone.”
“Wait!” Ivy cried out, grabbing the door before he could close it behind him. “If there’s been another murder, then you’re way in over your head. Don’t be stubborn, you need my help. I can find the murderer and put all this to rest.”
Mr. Hyde hesitated, and looked over at the farmhand who looked eager to leave.
“Pardon me, sir,” the farmhand said politely, looking Ivy up and down. His gaze drifted to Zasha who he had seen playing with Evelyn ever since they were children. “But the scene’s not fit to be seen by ladies.”
Mr. Hyde nodded firmly. “I’m sorry, Ms. Morris, but no. I’m not going to let this rest on my conscience.”
He closed the door behind him and hurried after the farmhand. They both got into Mr. Hyde’s small car and rushed off, leaving Ivy to stare at the door incredulously.
“You,” she turned on Zasha who was looking sick. “You mentioned something about a farm earlier. Do you know which one belongs to the Turners?”
“Yes,” Zasha said, feeling numb with worry. “That’s the one I was talking about earlier. It belongs to my best friend’s family.”
“So, you’d know how to get there,” Ivy said, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.
“I do,” Zasha said slowly. That was an understatement. She’d been to the Turner’s farm so often that it was like her second home. Evelyn was more than her best friend, she was like Zasha’s sister. There was nothing that the two of them didn’t know about each other. If there had indeed been a murder on the farm, it would be like a member of Zasha’s family had died.
“Let’s go,” Ivy decided, walking out the door without waiting for Zasha’s reply.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Zasha said, forcing herself to move forward. “I’ve never se
en a dead body before. Besides, my papa won’t like it that I went over there. Look, Ivy, you’re just passing through. I’m going to have to live with all this once you’re gone. In a place like this, if people think you’ve gone wild, they’ll never forgive you.”
Zasha could already hear Mrs. Grey spreading the news that the eldest Ross girl had lost her senses and had been beguiled by a trashy flapper from New York. There was already a black stain on her name, and Mrs. Grey was one more incident from declaring Zasha a bad egg and forbidding her son, Tom, from ever seeing Zasha again.
The thought brought a pang to Zasha’s heart. She imagined the pain of watching Tom’s beautiful blue eyes struggle with the difficulty of his mother’s order. They had both accepted that they would eventually end up marrying each other, after all, wasn’t that the reason why Mrs. Grey had continually pushed them together ever since childhood? Zasha had long ago resigned herself to becoming the next Mrs. Grey. Although she knew that Tom loved her deeply, she wasn’t sure if he’d choose her if he had to make a decision between her and his mother.
Without Tom at her side, the future seemed uncertain and dangerous. The prospect caused her heart to jump to her throat. New Hope was a small place. If she didn’t have Tom, and many girls would jump at the chance to have him, then she wouldn’t have any other options. Except… a thought occurred to her that was so vile that she nearly gagged.
“Honey,” Ivy turned to Zasha with a stern glare. “Where I come from, if someone calls you a friend that means something. It means that you’re the first person by their side when there’s trouble. Now, you said that girl was your best friend. That means out of all your friends, she’s the one you owe the most to. If she heard that someone in your house had been murdered, what would she do?”
Zasha shrank back in shame. If their situations were reversed, there would’ve been nothing on earth that would’ve kept Evelyn away from her.
“Listen up, and listen good,” Ivy said, putting her hands on her hips. “I need you to be brave, darling, because it’s not going to be easy. Do you think that band of buffoons is going to be able to figure out what happened? No. I’m your friend’s only hope. Get me to that farm.”