The Leopard's Prey (10 page)

Jade opened her pocket purse and counted out the money. “I’m very sorry to hear about your partner, Mr. Stokes. I’m sure this sounds rather heartless, but I imagine it puts a bigger burden on you and Mr. Berryhill, doesn’t it? Will you take on a new partner or just hire another assistant?”

Mrs. Berrryhill looked up, her hazel eyes wide with surprise at this turn of questions. “You’re quite right. It has put a strain on us. You’re the first to make the observation. Everyone else expects us to miss his companionship.” She snorted. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to handle the store
and
the deliveries
or
manage a booth at the agricultural fair. Harley will help during the weekends and holidays, but he must finish his schooling.”

“Mr. Stokes must have been a very important part of your store, then. Someone you and your husband thought you could rely on.” Jade emphasized the word “thought,” hinting that it might not be true.

Mrs. Berryhill rolled her eyes and glanced to see if her husband was listening. Then she leaned closer to Jade. “He was certainly handy at reaching out to the farmers by making personal trips to them, and I suppose that has brought us a lot of business that might have gone elsewhere, but
I
won’t miss him here. We will do our best to find a strong man to do the deliveries for us. Someone who can do what he’s told and mind his business. But I doubt there’s a man anywhere who could manage that!”

Jade decided that Sam was only partly right in his assessment of Mrs. Berryhill. It wasn’t him personally that she disliked; she just didn’t have a very high opinion of men. “Did I understand correctly that he was married? I never met his wife.”

Mrs. Berryhill’s lips tightened. “That poor thing. I’ve no doubt she’s left for good. Alice deserved better than him. She was such a lovely little creature. I knew her when she was a girl.”

“When did she leave? Where did she go?” asked Jade, leaning on the counter.

Mrs. Berryhill shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

Jade took a different tack. “Still, he must have loved her to have been so heartbroken over her leaving him that he’d kill himself. And such a dreadful way to do it, too.” She deliberately left the method unspoken, hoping Mrs. Berryhill would fill in the gap.

She didn’t. “I’m sorry he saw fit to do it in Mr. Thompson’s dryer,” Mrs. Berryhill said. “
He
seems to be a decent sort of man, at least.”

“Did Mr. Stokes beat his wife?”

“Not physically. But there are marks a man’s words can leave on a woman’s soul. She could do nothing to please him,” said Mrs. Berryhill. “He rarely let her leave home. I’m one of the few people who ever saw her. Oh, he was all slap-you-on-the-back friendly with the settlers, and I’m sure they considered him a fine fellow, but I never trusted him. I could see it in his eyes.”

There it was again, Jade thought. The idea that an inner evil was revealed in a look. She could actually believe it with people. Nuances of expression were hard to hide, even for the best poker player. Everyone had his telltale look or twitch when he had something to hide, and it was possible that Mrs. Berryhill had caught on to Martin Stokes.

“If Mr. Stokes was so horrid to his wife, it makes me wonder whatever possessed her to marry him in the first place.”

“Ah, well, that’s it, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Berryhill. “Alice was such a beautiful creature, so fair, rather like a wax doll. Who couldn’t fall in love with her? Her parents doted on her, but they both died of typhus near the start of the war. Alice was only nineteen and completely orphaned. No other family. I would have taken her in, but Martin declared for her immediately, before some of the other men in the area had a chance.”

“She sounds lovely,” said Jade. “Have you a picture of her?”

Mrs. Stokes hesitated and shot a sideways glance to her husband, who was still busy with Sam. “In my desk.”

She hurried over to it, unlocked a lower drawer, and returned with a small photograph of a dark-haired woman in her late twenties and a beautiful young girl. Jade recognized the younger face as the same one in Chalmers’ picture. The other woman was plainly Mrs. Berryhill six or seven years ago. Jade thanked her and handed the photo back.

Mrs. Berryhill slipped the photograph into her skirt pocket and returned to her desk. Jade turned to see Sam, who had resorted to purchasing a new pair of work gloves and a leather-bound ledger, waiting near the front for her to join him. Once they were outside, she asked what he had learned.

“You don’t suppose we’ll get in trouble with Finch for this, do you?” asked Sam.

Jade shrugged. “He told me not to discuss my police interrogation with you or the Thompsons. I didn’t. And currently I’m discussing my shopping experience with you.”

Sam grinned. “You are a devious woman, Jade.”

“Not at all. I simply took him at his literal meaning. And if I should talk to Biscuit about the terrors of police headquarters and any of you just happen to eavesdrop, I cannot help it.”

“I plan to write everything down in a journal.” He waggled the newly purchased ledger. Of course, if I left it lying around and someone chanced on it, I can’t stop them from reading it.”

“Exactly. Madeline will probably insist on writing her experience up as part of another one of her novels. Since they’re usually about me, I think I should read any early drafts.”

“Maybe Maddy can convince Neville to start talking in his sleep,” said Sam.

“By the way,” said Jade, “I don’t think Mrs. Berryhill likes men at all, although she made allowances for Neville. But Stokes must have browbeat his wife. I should have asked if she thought he killed her. She was very unhelpful as far as knowing when or where Alice went.” Jade related what she learned.

“I wonder, did Stokes run an ad looking for her to throw everyone off the scent? Make it look as though she ran away?” asked Sam.

“We’re assuming, Sam, that Stokes placed the ad. That box number was too new to make the directory. I’d like to stop at the
Standard
office after we meet the Thompsons and see if I can find out. Did you learn anything?”

“I spent some time looking at the farm implements first and saw that he had a few of those corn knives. I said I’d seen them back in the United States and they seemed to be a handy device. Berryhill said Stokes had been going around to all the farmers that grow maize, trying to sell them on it. Then Berryhill made the cold remark that at least this suicide will serve to let people know how sharp the blade is.”

“Sounds like neither of the Berryhills liked Stokes. Could they have killed him?”

“Maybe,” said Sam. “Although they’re hardly going to admit it. I’m not much of a detective, but I thought Berryhill looked awfully agitated. He kept his hands in his pocket, jiggling keys. And,” Sam added, “he has a motive.”

Jade stopped and turned to Sam. “A motive? What are you keeping from me?”

They’d paused by the Theatre Royale, its billings announcing the Leonard Rayne players in
Naughty Wives
, and a movie called
A Daughter of the Gods
, the story of a white woman sold at auction that had caused a sensation in the States. Jade frowned, recalling her own experience in Morocco’s slave market.

“That scene look familiar?” asked Sam as he took her arm and escorted her across the split street. They wended their way among the parked cars in the median and across toward the New Stanley Hotel. “Recently, Berryhill discovered a discrepancy in the invoices,” he said, continuing his news. “It looks like Stokes may have been embezzling from the store.”

Jade whistled. “That’s an interesting tidbit, but it could have been just as much a reason for Stokes to kill himself, knowing he’d be caught.” She felt a desperate need to ask Sam why Finch would suspect him, or herself, for that matter.

It would have to wait. Too many people bustled around the New Stanley with its tearoom. They found the Thompsons seated in the entry lounge, oblivious to everything around them. Maddy gripped a white cotton handkerchief, which she used to dab her eyes, while Neville held her other hand firmly between both of his own, his gaze never leaving her face.

“Maddy, Neville,” said Jade, “what happened? They didn’t turn you down, did they?”

“Oh, Jade,” said Madeline with a choked sob, “we were too late. The baby’s been taken.”

“What?” exclaimed Sam, loudly enough that several hotel guests turned and stared. He lowered his voice. “The notice just came out in the paper. How can the child be spoken for so quickly?”

“How indeed,” echoed Neville. “The girl at the desk could only say that the ad had been closed early this morning.”

“Did she say who took the baby? Or who bought the ad to begin with?” asked Jade.

Neville shook his head. “It’s the second day for the notice. We don’t take a daily, so we hadn’t seen it. I’d assumed the baby was left at a mission, but perhaps a neighbor took in the child and decided to keep him.” Madeline sobbed again, and Neville turned his attention back to his distraught wife. “There, there, Maddy. Don’t cry. At least the little tyke has a home.”

“But not with us,” said Madeline. “Oh, Neville, please take me home.”

“That’s right,” said Sam. “You two go on and think about the fair tomorrow.”

“The fair?” exclaimed Madeline. “Oh, how can anyone think about the fair?”

“Sam is quite right, Maddy,” said Neville. “You mustn’t dwell on this disappointment. There will be another chance for us someday. Perhaps we might compose our own notice for the paper and advertise that we wish to adopt.”

Madeline sat up straighter and clasped her husband’s hand. “Oh, Neville, do you mean it?”

He smiled, his own eyes glistening with barely restrained tears. “Yes, my love. I wasn’t sure of the idea when you first mentioned it—adopting, I mean. Always hoped for our own. But as we went to the newspaper office, I found that I was actually looking forward to bringing this baby home. And now I feel as if I just lost someone, too.”

Madeline kissed Neville’s rough hands. “Thank you, darling.” She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief and made an effort to smile. “I’m sorry,” she said to Jade and Sam. “I’m being selfish. We’ve
all
had a very trying morning.”

“Oh, Maddy, stop with the stiff-upper-lip nonsense,” said Jade. “You have every right to be disappointed, and I don’t feel the least bit slighted because you aren’t fussing over me. But I agree with Sam. You need to focus on something else.”

“Right! Think about the fair tomorrow,” said Neville.

“Not just the fair,” said Jade. “You should go home and write this entire morning’s scene at the police station for your next book.”

“But I didn’t think you liked when I wrote about your adventures, Jade.”

“Besides,” said Neville, “aren’t you writing about Jade’s Morocco adventure right now, Maddy?” He winced as his wife poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

Jade laughed. “It’s all right. I figured as much already, and who am I to stifle your creativity? But I have an ulterior motive in mind.” She explained her plan to circumvent Finch’s restrictions.

“Oh, hang that,” said Neville. “Everyone else is talking about Stokes. Why can’t we?”

“I know
I’m
splitting hairs,” said Jade, “but if we are called onto a witness stand later, we need to be able to look anyone in the face and say truthfully that we did not
discuss
our interrogations with one another, as Finch ordered.” She looked to each one in turn. “So if everyone goes home and writes their experiences down, and we all just happen to read one another’s notes tonight or tomorrow …” She made an open-arm gesture expressing her attitude that it was all accidental and innocent.

“I shall do just that,” said Madeline. “
After
Neville and I write our adoption notice.”

To Jade’s eye, Madeline seemed more relaxed, more cheerful now that she and Neville had made plans and were taking steps. The relatively quick alteration in Maddy’s mood didn’t surprise Jade. After all, Madeline had not actually met this child or held it. Her attachment, and consequently much of her disappointment, had come from a quickly formed, romantic vision of a cooing baby. Not that Jade dismissed Madeline’s longing for a child. She knew it to be genuine. But with Neville’s support and a working plan, Jade felt sure their dreams of parenthood would be fulfilled soon enough. Orphans, while not as common as during the war, were not rare. Many of the settlers in the protectorate’s outer fringes often fell to accident or disease in their hard lives.

“Of course, write your advertisement first. Do it here while you’re in town,” said Jade. “I can take it to both the
Standard
and the
Leader
if you like. It will give me an excuse to ask at the first about who placed the notice concerning Mrs. Stokes.”

“You don’t think it was placed by her husband?” asked Sam.

“I have no idea,” replied Jade. “That’s what I want to find out.” She repeated the information she’d picked up from Mrs. Berryhill. “Wait till you hear what Sam learned.”

Sam held up his hand, signaling for a pause. “Can we eat first? I’m starved.” He looked at Madeline. “That is, if you think you can. If you …”

“Yes,” she said. “By all means. I’m all right now.”

The four went to the dining room and ordered a lunch of barley soup and roasted chicken served with an assortment of fruits, sliced and drizzled with honeyed oil and vinegar. Sam attacked the bread basket while they waited and buttered a sesame seed roll. Jade settled for a cup of black coffee. The soup came quickly, and once Sam had staved his hunger, he explained Mr. Berryhill’s discovery of embezzlement.

“That’s all very interesting,” said Neville, “but I’m not sure why it concerns us. It’s not as if we are suspects.” As soon as he said the words, both Sam’s and Jade’s mouths tightened. “Oh!” Neville said.

“I think we’ll understand one another better once we’ve … er … accidentally read one another’s journals,” said Jade. “Besides, the sooner Inspector Finch solves this murder, the sooner you’ll get your coffee dryer door back, Neville.”

“Constable Miller returned very early this morning with an Indian constable,” Neville said. “They …” He stopped as the gloved African waiter removed the soup bowls and served the main course, then resumed as soon as the young man left. “They collected samples of dried blood from inside the drum.”