03 Murder by Mishap (23 page)

A minute or two later, Peg’s voice, sounding steady and controlled, rose from below. “Will you be okay, Ed? An ambulance is on the way. I have to let them in when they get here.”

“Go,” Edna shouted back, glaring at Stephen with a fury she’d not felt before in her life. “I’ll be fine.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The next hour passed in a haze for Edna. Once the ambulance arrived and the EMTs were attending to Stephen, she could allow herself to relax. As she did so, she began to tremble with relief and fatigue. Testing several nearby boxes, she found one sturdy enough to hold her weight and sank gratefully on top. Peg stood nearby, watching two white-clad men load her husband onto a stretcher.

When the technicians had Stephen firmly strapped to the gurney, they moved slowly down the stairs with Peg following. Everyone ignored Stephen’s howls of pain, one or two of which Edna suspected were more for effect than wrenched from agony. Dreading the thought of remaining alone in the attic, she mustered the strength to get down the steps. By the time she reached the office, she felt somewhat stronger. As her main thought switched to Peg, Edna resolutely shut the door to the attic and went down to the foyer where, having seen the emergency team out, Peg had collapsed against the front door. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be as dazed as Edna felt.

As Edna drew near, Peg opened her eyes. “Do you suppose he’s badly hurt? I can’t imagine you hit him that hard.”

“Hard enough.”
Flailing her hands at her sides, Edna shuddered. “Ugh. I’ll probably feel the vibration of bat hitting bone for a long time.”

 “I’m exhausted, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

“Do you have any brandy?”

Some of the old Peg returned when she said, “We do, if Stephen didn’t drink it all.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, however, and she added, “Sorry. Bad joke.”

Edna put an arm around Peg’s shoulders as they both turned toward the dining room. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. Say whatever you like. I think we both need to air our thoughts, if we both agree to forget everything that’s said in the next hour. Remember when we did that in college? Forget all and forgive all when we needed to clear our heads?” She patted Peg’s back. “Come on. I think a lot of brandy in a little warm milk might be just the thing to make us sleepy.”

This time Peg’s smile did bring a twinkle to her eyes and putting an arm around Edna’s waist, gave her a one-arm hug. She stopped at the side board to grab a bottle of the liquor while Edna went through to the kitchen.

When they were both seated at the kitchen table with the warm drinks in front of them, Edna felt the tension in her muscles ease a little. Several minutes passed before Peg broke the silence. “Do you think he really meant to push me out the window?”

Hesitating as she wavered between a truthful or a tactful reply, Edna finally shook her head, deciding on tact, since she wasn’t at all certain what Stephen’s intentions had been. She didn’t want Peg to dwell on that line of thinking, however, so she asked, “What did he mean when he said ‘I won’t let you destroy my bank.’?”

“I have no idea.” Peg sipped at her milk-laced brandy.

“You mentioned earlier that you’ve asked him to leave. Is he afraid he’ll lose the bank in a divorce settlement?”

Peg shook her head. “Most of our assets are separate. In the two years we’ve been married, we haven’t acquired much common property. According to our
prenup
, I have no claims on his bank or his income, just as he has no rights to this house or any of my money.”

“You signed a prenuptial agreement?”

“Geoff thought it would be a good idea.” She hesitated before adding, “He’s never really been fond of Stephen. He’s tried to hide his feelings from me, but I’ve always thought Geoff wouldn’t like anyone who took his father’s place.”

Edna thought Peg’s son would accept a more fun loving or emotionally compatible partner for Peg, as would she and Albert, but didn’t want to pursue that line of conversation either. Instead, she said, “How are you feeling? Would you like some more brandy and milk?”

“Why not?”
Peg grinned and nearly looked like her old self. Some color had even returned to her cheeks. “I think another might allow me to sleep, if I can crawl my way up to the bedroom.”

They both laughed, and Edna rose to refill their mugs.

A half hour later, as she turned off the bedside lamp, an earlier question of Peg’s popped into her head.
Had Stephen knowingly been trying to push Peg out the window?
No answer came to her, and the last thing she remembered that night was the cool softness of the pillow beneath her cheek.

It was past ten o’clock the next morning before she awoke. The wonderfully drowsy feeling induced by milk and brandy the night before had been replaced with a slight headache. Rolling out of bed, she took a long hot shower and dressed in comfortable, green wool slacks and a white turtle-neck. Still feeling a chill that went all the way to her bones, she grabbed a sweater of multiple earth tones and pulled it over her jersey. In the kitchen, she found Peg sitting at the table, warming her hands around a coffee mug. Elbows on the table, she was staring out the window at the backyard as Edna entered the room.

“
Mornin
’, Ed.” When Peg turned to greet her, the dark circles beneath her eyes made her look worse than Edna felt. “Help yourself to coffee. That’s a fresh pot.”

“Were you able to sleep at all,” Edna asked, pouring a cup and bringing it to the table.

Peg shook her head and bit her lip. “Not much.” Tears welled in her eyes, but didn’t spill over. After a minute of silence in which Edna knew her friend was trying to gain control of her emotions, Peg said, “I’ve been trying to understand what possessed Stephen last night. I’ve never known him to look or
act like
that. He was a complete stranger to me.”

The tears did fall then, silently drifting down her cheeks as she looked at Edna to provide impossible answers.

“Why don’t I make you some toast. You look exhausted. Maybe if you eat something and lie down, you’ll be able to sleep for a little while. We’ll talk later.”

“I don’t think I could, Ed.”

Not knowing if Peg meant eat or sleep or both, Edna ignored her and rose to make toast from a loaf of homemade bread she found in the bread box. Rummaging in the refrigerator, she came out with a partially-used jar of homemade, strawberry jam which she spread liberally on the toast before setting the plate in front of Peg. She thought the extra sugar would be good for the shock Peg must be feeling. She made herself the same breakfast and when they both had finished, she persuaded Peg to lie down on the couch in the library. This morning, she lit the fire in the hearth before sitting in the rocker and reaching for the copy of “Little Women” she’d left on the side table.

So much had happened since she’d put the book down the afternoon before. Looking at the printed pages, her mind wasn’t on the story, but on the previous evening’s events. Why
had
Stephen been acting so crazy? Try as she might, Edna could not fathom a logical reason for his behavior except to wonder if he’d gone completely mad. She finally decided to force herself into the story on her lap and try to free her mind of the inexplicable happenings in the world around her.

She was startled awake by the repeated chiming of the doorbell. The book had fallen from her lap and the fire had burned down to a few smoldering embers. As she rose from the rocker feeling a little muzzy-headed, she glanced at the mantel piece clock and was surprised to see it was nearly two o’clock. Noticing Peg’s eyes were open, she said, “I’ll see who that is. Try to go back to sleep.”

But Peg threw the afghan aside and sat up, looking and sounding groggy.  “Let’s both go see who it is. I need to move around, clear my head. A little sleep is almost as bad as none at all.” She smiled wanly and held out a hand for Edna to help her up.

The doorbell chimed again as the two women entered the foyer. Peg opened the door to a grim-faced Detective
Ruthers
.

“Why ... hello, Detective,” Peg said, sounding puzzled at his being there. Then, as if understanding dawned, she said, “Have you found out who copied Mother’s brooch?”

“Yes, but that’s not the only reason I’m here. When I got to the Division this morning, I heard about a complaint.” He nodded at Edna.
“Seems you attacked Mr. Bishop last night.
That right?”

Edna wasn’t certain if she saw one side of his mouth twitch upward when she said, “Yes, sir. I did.”

Ruthers
looked back at Peg. “Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?”

She led the way back to the library after the detective declined the offer of coffee or tea. Once they were seated, Peg and Edna on the sofa with
Ruthers
in the rocker next to the fireplace, he said without preamble, “What happened here last night.”

“Have you spoken with my husband?”

Ruthers
nodded.
“Went to see him at the hospital this morning.”

“What did he say?”

“I’d like to hear it from you, Mrs. Bishop.” He sat back and folded his hands in his lap, waiting.

After staring at him for several seconds as if expecting the detective to change his mind and tell her what Stephen had said, Peg began her recital with the reason she and Edna had gone to the attic. She completed her story with the 911 call for an ambulance. Edna sat quietly throughout and watched to see if
Ruthers
would give away anything by his facial expressions. He didn’t. She thought she’d not like to play poker with him, amusing
herself
at the absurdity of the idea.
Really, I must keep my mind on the matter at hand
, she thought.

A minute or two passed after Peg finished speaking before
Ruthers
pulled two small plastic bags from his jacket pocket and laid them on the coffee table in front of them. Each bag held one of the circle pins that had been the object of so much recent controversy.

“One is a copy,” he said, pulling the rocker closer to the table. Peg looked up with a frown. “We know. The one with the bent backing is the copy.
Right?”

Feeling a twinge of impatience with the detective, Edna said, “We’d already figured that’s what it must be. What we’d like to know is who had it made and when.”

“Mr. Bishop commissioned the fake,”
Ruthers
said, turning one over to show them the damaged clasp. “We located the jeweler who said he made it from a pen-and-ink design your husband showed him. We uncovered that bit of information late yesterday. I was planning to drop by today to talk to both you and your husband, Mrs. Bishop, but of course my plans changed with the events of last night.”

“Stephen?” Peg spoke the name as a question, then said numbly, “Stephen had this made?”

“That’s correct. Apparently your husband has had copies made of many pieces of your jewelry.
Fairly good copies, but fakes, nonetheless.
We had a long talk this morning in his hospital room. He’s decided to cooperate and gave us permission to examine the contents of his safe deposit box.”

“Why would he do that?” Peg stared at the detective as if not understanding what he was saying. “Why would he copy my jewelry?”

“He’s been paying extortion money to some pretty nasty fellows. Apparently, he couldn’t bring himself to embezzle bank funds, but he didn’t think you’d notice if he switched your jewelry for decent replacements.
Said you didn’t wear them much anyway.”

“That’s why he insisted on keeping everything at the bank,” Peg said, staring down at the pins on the table and seemingly speaking to herself.

“You say someone was extorting money. Who was threatening him?” Edna spoke up, more interested in the cause of Stephen’s betrayal.

 
“A small but well-organized bunch of cheap hoods, operating out of Chicago.
They’ve hit small banks in five large cities from Chicago to Boston, according to the Treasury department. These sharks get someone, preferably the bank president, to lend them large sums with questionable pay-back terms. When the note comes due, our upstanding citizens refuse to pay and it turns out their collateral is phony. Any banker who tries to collect or bring in the authorities ends up in the hospital or worse. There’s at least one case of a home being burned to the ground. We also think, in a few cases, they’ve demanded more money before they let go.”

Edna gasped, drawing Peg’s and Ruther’s attention. She shook her head to minimize her reaction. “I recently read about one of the cases. Wasn’t it in or near Chicago--the trial in which the photojournalist Carol James was the primary witness?”

“That’s right.” The detective seemed satisfied with her explanation and turned back to Peg. “Mr. Bishop tells us that burning your house was only one of the threats he received. We’re talking with Illinois officials and Treasury agents to verify the M.O., but we’re pretty certain we’re all dealing with the same guys. Your husband claims he was trying to save the bank and didn’t know how else to put back the money in a way that wouldn’t raise suspicions.”

“And when both the fake and the real circle pins showed up, his duplicity was almost certain to surface,” Edna speculated.