Blood Relations (22 page)

“Kyle,” I said. “You might want to start filming.”

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Collette's work number. After three rings, she answered. “Hey, it's Torie. I know you probably can't get here in under an hour, but you need to come out to the cemetery at Granite Lutheran. Bring a camera.”

“Hey!” Bradley said as I hung up the phone. “You can't do that. She can't do that!”

“I always thought journalism was a dog-eat-dog world, Mr. Chapel. The way I see it, Collette did a lot of footwork on this. She deserves a good story, too,” I said.

He punched the sky with his fist and made a very unhappy sound.

“So, Mr. Chapel, how much did Jacob Lahrs tell you, anyway?” I asked.

“I don't have to answer your questions,” Mr. Chapel said.

“Answer her,” Colin said.

“I don't have to answer yours, either. I want my lawyer.”

“Fine. Kyle, stop filming,” the sheriff said. “Go on home, both of you.”

“No, no, wait,” Bradley said, flailing his hands all about.

Deputy Duran, out of breath, came back then with a shovel. He handed it to Sheriff Brooke, who waited until Bradley Chapel began to talk.

“Jacob told me that he was onto something big. That he could solve the mystery of the diamonds and the Huntleigh heiress all in one fell swoop. He agreed that if I filmed for him, he would give Kyle and me credit on the documentary he wanted to make,” he said.

“Meaning you'd give up exclusive rights to the story?” Deputy Duran asked.

“It wouldn't do much good if I had only half the story,” Bradley admitted.

“I thought Danny Jones was documenting,” I said.

“He was,” Bradley said. “But he didn't have access to our good equipment, nor had he had the years of experience that Kyle has. So Jacob asked if we'd film.”

“You wanted the story for yourself,” I said.

“Of course I wanted the story for myself. What self-respecting journalist wouldn't? I'd probably get a book deal out of it,” he said.

Duran, Colin, and I just stared at him.

“Hey, no. I know what you're thinking. I did not kill Jacob Lahrs. I wouldn't do that, man. I hate blood.”

“It was dark,” I said. “You wouldn't have seen any.”

“Look. After I heard he was dead, I did plan on going on with the story. I am guilty of trying to steal his documents from Jeremiah Ketchum,” he said. “But nothing else. The race is on, Sheriff Brooke. You have to understand. Now that Jacob is dead, it's down to me and Jeremiah. Whichever one discovers the truth and turns it in first wins. There's no place for seconds in journalism.”

“You're in third,” I said. “Collette and I already know the secret. We did it the old-fashioned way. Not by stealing somebody else's work, but by going to that good old institution known as the public library.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Colin,” I said, and nodded.

Colin took the shovel and wedged it underneath the edge of the first tombstone. With very little trouble, he pulled out the part of the stone that was in the frozen ground. He had only dug down about a foot when he found something. In the dirt was a burlap bag. My gaze met Colin's and anticipation crackled in the air. Even Kyle knew something was up, for he concentrated his camera lens on the burlap bag, moving around me to get a better view. Colin picked it up and unrolled it. Then he dumped part of the contents out into his hand. A mound of uncut diamonds piled up in his palm.

Nobody said anything at first. We all just sort of held our breath and blinked several times. Then Bradley Chapel broke the silence.

“I'll be a son of a bitch!” he yelled.

“Watch your language. You are on sacred ground,” Earl snapped.

“Diamonds,” I whispered.

“Well, the legend was true after all,” Earl said.

Colin put the diamonds back in the bag and handed it to me. Then while he went to work on another stone, Duran started on the third one. All the way down the row they went, turning over one tombstone after another, until all seven revealed a burlap bag full of uncut diamonds underneath.

My head was spinning. It was true, all of it. This was definitive proof that William Wade had indeed been Eli Thibeau. There was nobody on board
The Phantom
named William Wade, so how would that person have the diamonds if he wasn't Eli Thibeau? And his wife, Maria Wade, Jessica Huntleigh, was the heiress whose body was never recovered from the wreckage. The heiress whose family mourned her loss by naming a hospital after her in New York and putting up a monument befitting a queen on the family property. She had simply become Maria Wade, wife of an ex–steamboat captain and businessman, and slipped into anonymity forever. I had to wonder, since Eli Thibeau/William Wade had died just three years after the wreck, if she had ever regretted her decision. Had she ever wanted to go crawling back to her family in New York? Would she have given up her identity and life of privilege if she had known her happiness as Mrs. William Wade would have been so short-lived?

If anybody had the answers to those questions, it would be Jacob Lahrs's grandmother.

“I don't understand,” Bradley said. “How did the diamonds get here? Who put them there? And why?”

“That's for me to know and you to find out,” I said.

Colin laughed a little, but he quickly tried to conceal it. Bradley Chapel looked as if he'd just swallowed a jawbreaker whole. Well, that was what he got for being so snotty to me at Fraulein Krista's.

“Should we put the tombstones back now?” Deputy Duran asked.

“No,” I said. “I want Collette to get pictures.”

Half an hour later, Bradley Chapel and his cameraman were sitting on the front steps of the church when Collette pulled up in her maroon sports car. She stepped out, dressed in a navy suit and matching pumps. An associate with some camera equipment got out on the passenger side. They walked up to the cemetery, and the first thing Collette said when she reached me was, “This better be good, because I just got mud all over my pumps.”

I handed her a burlap bag, which she opened, then looked inside. She reached in and pulled out a handful of diamonds. Her head snapped up and she looked at me. “Th-the diamonds?”

“Yeah,” I said, and pointed to the graves. “They were hidden beneath the tombstones.”

“Oh shit,” she said. “Oooh, guess I shouldn't cuss on church property. Sorry.”

“Get pictures quickly,” Colin said. “I want to get the tombstones back in place and get the diamonds into the evidence room.”

Collette's photographer took still photographs of all of the graves and the seven bags of diamonds. Finally, he took a few shots of Collette and the people standing all around. Then Duran and Colin put the tombstones back upright, which the photographer got shots of, too.

“I don't think we damaged any of them,” Colin said.

“Unbelievable,” said Earl.

Collette looked at me quizzically.

“I'll explain later,” I said.

“Man, I wish I had some pictures of the gravestones before you guys started digging,” she said.

My gaze traveled to Bradley and Kyle, who were still sitting on the steps of the church, looking as if they had just lost their best friends. I guess that for a reporter, losing a story is the equivalent of losing a friend. I doubted seriously that they would be good-enough sports to share with Collette. Which was a shame. If they could collaborate, they would probably have a better story than Jeremiah Ketchum would have. Then I remembered the disposable camera that I had in the glove compartment of my car.

“Oh, I took some pictures out here the other day,” I said.

“You did?” she asked.

“Yeah. They won't be the greatest quality in the world, since they were taken on one of those six-dollar disposable cameras,” I said.

“That's all right,” she said. “I'll take them.”

“Want some lunch?” I asked her. “I'll explain everything then.”

“Sure,” she said, looking at her photographer, who nodded, indicating that lunch sounded good.

After putting the last tombstone back in place, Colin came and stood next to me. “You know, this still doesn't tell me who killed Jacob Lahrs.”

“I know,” I said. “Is Bradley Chapel off the suspect list?”

“Why? Just because he didn't know the diamonds were here? No, he's not off the list.”

“You know what I'm thinking?” I asked.

“I never know what you're thinking, Torie. And I'm happy to keep it that way.”

“I'm thinking that the other day when I was out here to look at the graves … somebody else had just been here. If that person knew the diamonds were here…”

“Yeah?”

“I'm wondering if that person is our killer.”

Twenty-seven

Dinner at my mother's house was the greatest thing in the whole world. I couldn't believe that we'd eaten like this every day when my mother lived with us. Today, she had prepared a Cajun fifteen-bean soup, which had, well, fifteen kinds of beans in it. I didn't even know there were fifteen kinds of beans in the world. Then the main course consisted of ribs, which Colin had barbecued. He's just like Rudy. A little snow or cold weather isn't enough to stop them from using the barbecue pit. Then there was some sort of homemade bread with cheese baked in, asparagus, tomatoes—which my mother must have paid a fortune for, good tomatoes being rare in January—and baked potatoes. Then for dessert, she hit us with buttermilk pie. If I were to go swimming in a lake today, I would sink all the way to the bottom.

“I'm so proud of you two,” Mom said.

“Who?” I asked.

“You and Colin. You two went through the entire meal without talking shop. Not once,” she said.

“We were too busy stuffing our faces,” I said. “Give us time.”

Mom doesn't believe in cleaning up the dishes right away. She likes to sit and visit with her company. Which is something I learned from her. Most of the time when I have company over, I do the cleaning after they've left. My mother's motto: Company does not pay for their meal by cleaning up.

“Have you seen Stephanie since Fraulein Krista's?” Mom asked.

“No,” I said. “She did call and leave a message at the office on Tuesday. Said she wanted to make plans to get together.”

“I know you told me all about her,” she said. “But you haven't elaborated. Which is odd, to say the least. You always elaborate, even when I desperately want you not to.” Everybody laughed, because it was true. “Do you think you guys will develop a relationship?”

I gave a moment's thought to that. Stephanie seemed like a sweet girl, and she wanted the same thing I had always wanted. Why shouldn't we continue to see each other? “Yeah, I think so.”

“Yippee!” Mary squealed. “I can't wait to meet my new aunt.”

“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Rudy said. “She called yesterday, too. Said she really needed to speak with you.”

Well, that news left a feeling of foreboding in my chest. I barely knew her. What would she “really” need to speak to me about? I thought about it a moment and then brushed it off. “Guess I'll have to call her tomorrow.”

Matthew was still in his high chair, so I cleaned him up and then let him down to wreak havoc in Grandma's house. Colin excused himself and came back with his new fishing pole to show Rudy.

“Rachel,” Mary said. “Can I listen to your CD player?”

“Oh, let me think,” Rachel said in a sappy voice. Then she changed into Mr. Hyde in nothing flat. “No!”

“Rachel, you are the biggest snot,” I said.

“What? She'll break it if I let her have it.”

“All you had to say was no. You didn't have to be so hateful.”

She rolled her eyes and stormed off to the living room, where I heard the television click on. Mary finished the last of her milk and then smiled and said, “She's got PMS.”

Everybody at the table whooped with laughter, while Mary just smiled, quite pleased with the reaction she got. I could hear Rachel in the living room, swearing that she was going to move to Canada as soon as she was eighteen.

“Go play,” I said to Mary.

Colin and Rudy talked about their fishing poles and what sort of bait to use for what kind of fish. Of course I didn't understand why they didn't just use a worm. Worm equals fish. That's what I was always taught.

My mother and I pretended to hang on their every word, but finally I could take it no more. “You know you can go to the store and buy whatever kind of fish you want. Probably a lot cheaper than all the money you've got tied up in that equipment.”

“Yeah,” Rudy said. “And you could pay somebody to trace your family tree, rather than do it yourself.”

“Okay, point taken,” I said, laughing. Still, a worm and a hook would have worked just fine in my book.

A few more minutes went by and then, Colin couldn't hold it any longer. “If Jacob Lahrs's killer was at the cemetery the same day you were,” he said, “why didn't he just take the diamonds then?”

I shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Maybe there were people there,” Mom said. “And he thought he'd get caught.”

“Right,” I said. “There were some cars in the parking lot when I pulled in. Earl was probably inside.”

“So then why hasn't he gone back for them?” Colin asked.

Mom and I both shrugged.

“Maybe he hasn't had the chance. Maybe he's worried that the place is under surveillance,” Mom said.

“Sure,” I interjected. “Whoever it is has waited this long, so maybe he figures he'll just wait until all the hoopla dies down and then he'll go get them.”

“But he didn't plan on you finding them first,” Mom said.

“Oh well,” I said. “Those diamonds belong to somebody else anyway.”