Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [72]
“Screw you!” Millicent broke to the right, tearing through shrubs and bushes. Sweetie started after her, but I grabbed the dog’s collar when she staggered.
“Let Millicent go.” I gathered Sweetie into my arms. “We can find her tomorrow. And trust me, she will talk.”
* * *
I sat on the floor before a roaring fire with Sweetie’s head in my lap as Eleanor paced the back parlor. Sweetie had fully recovered. The wound wasn’t serious. She’d scarfed down leftover steak and now snoozed in the warmth of the fire Eleanor insisted on lighting. A fire in August—just another Levert eccentricity. But the foul weather, though now dissipated, had cast an air of chill and gloom over the estate. Perhaps the crackling fire wasn’t a total extravagance.
“I’m so sorry,” Eleanor said for the hundredth time. “I think we should call a veterinarian to be sure Sweetie isn’t injured.”
Chablis, who’d been shut in Tinkie’s bedroom and missed all the action, gave a tiny yap of agreement. Sweetie thumped the floor with her tail. She basked in the attention. “She’s okay, Eleanor.”
“Where do you suppose Jerome is?” she asked. She was worried and no longer tried to hide her feelings.
“I don’t know.”
Tinkie returned to the room with a tray of coffee. She gave each of us a cup. “Eleanor, we can’t continue like this. John Hightower is on the grounds, maybe injured but not seriously if he can flee like a gazelle. Millicent is conspiring with him. We don’t know what’s happened to Jerome. You haven’t been honest with us about your relationship with Jerome. If we’re going to help, you have to tell us about him.”
Eleanor sank into a leather sofa, one of the few modern furnishings in the house. “Jerome was born in Scotland. There’s a long family tie to the Leverts. Jerome’s great-great-grandfather captained the Lillith. He was in cahoots with Barthelme. At one point, Barthelme saved his life, and there’s a bond between our families.” Bitterness touched her tone. “Master and servant. Jerome came to Natchez to help my father, and we fell in love.” She gazed out the window into darkness. I thought she’d slipped into a memory. When she spoke again, it was on another subject. “The kidnapper said he would kill Monica.” She faced me. “I’m concerned for Jerome and Mr. Hightower. I hate what happened to your dog. But Monica is my sister, Sarah Booth. If I call the police and it results in her death…”
She was caught between a rock and a hard place, no doubt of that. “I believe Gunny will use discretion,” I said. “We’ll explain the situation. He’ll make sure that if the kidnapper is watching Briarcliff, his officers won’t be obvious. This is serious, but you have to keep in mind that, so far, except for Sweetie and Hightower, no one else has been hurt.”
“I’m afraid.” Eleanor set her untouched coffee on the low table. “For the first time in my life, I’m truly afraid that whatever action I take will result in injury to someone I care about.”
“Such as Jerome?” I asked.
She sighed. “Yes. Jerome. He wouldn’t just leave. Ironic, isn’t it, that he’s been within reach for most of my life, but I wouldn’t take him. Not as my husband. Monica wouldn’t hear of it. So I let class dictate my happiness, and now I have none. My sister is gone, and so is Jerome. Perhaps it’s justice.”
My palm traced the contours of Sweetie’s warm hide. “You’ve put us in a bad position, Eleanor. Tinkie and I operated in good faith. You’ve lied and withheld vital information. Your life, and your sister’s, are webs of deceit. Sons, lovers—lies at every step. I’m not even certain you and Monica didn’t arrange the theft of the necklace. I feel Tinkie and I must resign from the case.”
Eleanor stood abruptly. “Please. Please don’t! I need you. I’ve come to rely on you. You’re the only people I trust.”
My mind was made up. Sweetie could have been killed, and for what? To protect two women who wouldn’t know the truth if it bit them on the leg? “I’m sorry.”
Tinkie knelt beside me. Her hand drifted over Sweetie’s