Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (14 page)

"
Since you were only a toddler, how did you get off the sinking ship?
"
asked Callum.
"
Did Alice Cleaver take you off at the same time she took Trevor Allison?
"

"
No, I was taken off the ship by a Mr. Hyde,
"
responded
Loraine
earnestly.

"
That’s H-I-D-E as in
hide and seek
?
"

"
No, Hyde, with a ‘y’ as in Hyde park!
"

Or Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde,
Callum thought to himself. This was sounding as equally implausible as the fantasy tale. Or perhaps she was influenced by the outrageous storylines of the soaps she seemed fond of.

Loraine
continued,
"
Of course, it wasn’t until much later that I learned he was none other than Thomas Andrews, the architect who designed
Titanic
.
"

"
Andrews?
"
interrupted Callum, trying not to betray his inner thoughts.
"
But if memory serves, Thomas Andrews went down with the ship.
"

"
Oh no,
"
Loraine
said emphatically
.
"
That’s what Bruce Ismay, the owner of
Titanic
wanted everyone to believe. He paid Mr. Andrews to disappear, so that he would never testify at the inquiry.
"

Callum jotted her words in shorthand. Although he was not a
Titanic
aficionado, he had been, on many occasions, subjected to Percy’s in-depth knowledge of the ill-fated ship. This included how several witnesses from the last lifeboat saw Thomas Andrews hurling deck chairs to the people in the water to use as floatation devices. All of them testified that, like the captain, Thomas Andrews went down with the ship he’d designed. There was an odd sense of chest-pounding pride whenever Percy recounted it, and Callum was often reminded that Mr. Andrews was from Percy’s hometown of Comber, County Down, Ireland. Callum looked up at
Loraine
and asked,
"
What happened to him?
"

"
Mr. Andrews? He died. It was his death that motivated me to go public with my true identity.
"

Callum nodded, yet he couldn’t help but notice that she always addressed her surrogate father by either Mr. Hyde or Mr. Andrews. Curious that she never used a less formal name or even a sense of affection in her voice. Wanting to explore this further he pressed,
"
So Mr. Andrews raised you all on his own?
"

"
Oh no,
"
she replied shaking her head.
"
His sister, Mrs. Gray, ran an orphanage. She looked after me as well.
"

"
Did you say Mrs. Gray?
"

"
Yes.
"

Callum flipped back in his notebook and found that the same name ‘Mrs. Gray’ was mentioned in the 1909 murder trial as the non-existent woman who was supposedly caring for Alice Cleaver’s son. In Callum Toughill’s line of work there was no such thing as coincidence. Turning his attention back to the woman in front of him, he asked,
"
What was the name of the orphanage, and where was it?
"

"
I don’t recall the name. It was a long time ago but it was in the American Midwest,
"
she replied in an over-rehearsed tone.
"
It burned down. There is nothing left of it.
"

"
What state?
"

"
I beg your pardon?
"

"
You said the American Midwest. Which state was this orphanage?
"

"
Uh, Kansas.
"

Callum scribbled it down. Her accent was certainly not Midwestern American. He would look into it later but he was willing to bet that like the orphanage run by Mrs. Gray in Alice Cleaver’s trial in 1909, this one didn’t exist either.
"
Do you have any proof or evidence to back up your claim?
"

"
My attorney, Arthur Flynn, had Mr. Andrew’s journal as well as my original birth certificate and other such documents.
"

Callum was shocked to hear this.
Why didn’t she mention this before?
"
Where might I find Mr. Flynn?
"

"
He died.
"

Of course he did.
"
So what happened to the documents?
"

"
They were destroyed in a fire in his office after his death.
"

Of course they were.
He could tell she was making it all up.

"
It was George Allison, my father’s brother,
"
continued
Loraine
.
"
He murdered my lawyer and destroyed the evidence. With my brother Trevor dead, he and his wife had inherited all of my father’s fortune.
"

"
I thought your brother survived the
Titanic
. Alice Cleaver rescued him?
"

"
But she done him in later,
"
snarled
Loraine
.
"
He died of poisoning in 1929.
"

"
Why would she do that? What would she stand to gain?
"

"
I told you she hated us children!
"

"
But that was seventeen years after the sinking of the
Titanic
. Trevor was no longer a child.
"

"
He was murdered before his eighteenth birthday,
"
interrupted
Loraine
.
"
That’s when he would have inherited everything.
"

"
Do you have anything that can back up what you’ve told me?
"

"
I have some of the jewelry that Mum brought on board the
Titanic
,
"
replied
Loraine
,
"
I even have a letter from Alice Cleaver backing up my story and verifying that these were the jewels that we had on the
Titanic
.
"

"
May I see them?
"
Callum asked, trying not to sound too eager.

She no
dded as she set down her glass
.
"
I’ll have to ask you to shut your eyes. I keep them hidden in this room. I don’t want anyone to know.
"

Callum complied. As he sat there with his eyes shut, he could hear her shuffle across the room and rummage around. His anticipation was growing.
Could I possibly be fortunate enough to find the diamond crescent brooch here? Did Alice Cleaver kill Agatha Gilcrest and bring the piece of evidence aboard the Titanic? Was she the mysterious person who filled out the claim form after the ship sank? Percy would be shocked if I came back to London with the brooch in hand.

"
You can open your eyes,
"
said
Loraine
.

Callum opened his eyes, and he surveyed the small collection on the coffee table. His hopes sank with his smile. There was no crescent brooch among the half-dozen pieces. Still they were quite lovely at first glance. He looked up at
Loraine
.
"
May I?
"

"
Certainly, but do be careful,
"
she whispered.

He picked up a diamond ring, and tilted it toward the setting sun seeping in through the window. There was no halo caused by refraction. He held it close and breathed on it. The condensation lingered. Diamonds conduct heat and no moisture should have been present. This was a fake. He examined the other pieces. From the way they were mounted – all were fakes. Not one piece of jewelry had any value to them.

"
They’re all I have left of my mother,
"
said
Loraine
with an actual sound of remorse.

"
They’re lovely,
"
said Callum softly. For a brief moment, Callum felt sorry for her. She must have known that these are not real or, she had told herself the story over and over again so many times that she now believed the lie as truth. Regardless, the trail of the lost brooch and the murder of Agatha Gilcrest ended here. There were no more clues.

As
Loraine
carefully gathered her precious jewels, Callum saw the newspaper on the coffee table for the first time. The headline read, ‘
Titanic II
to set sail next week!’

Beneath the headline was a photo of the Hoffman family. Callum recognized them as he had once investigated a ‘break and enter’ at their London estate. What disturbed Callum, at present, was the
image of Edward Hoffman:
It appeared that
Loraine
Kramer had taken a pen and angrily scratched out his eyes.

. . .

Natalie was not sure how to feel about the outcome of this evening — it had started out so well, then went so horribly wrong.

Myra had put up a struggle and insisted on accompanying Edward when he was placed in the ambulance, becoming hysterical and completely unmanageable when the ambulance wailed away without her. Fearing that she would hurt herself or someone else, Natalie had her sedated.

Even though her shift was long over, Natalie had stayed at the clinic to watch over Myra, wanting to be present when Myra regained consciousness.

Natalie began to question her judgment as she replayed the events over and over. Looking over at the picture of herself with her sister Loren, she realized that in a lot of ways, Myra reminded Natalie of Loren. Smart, elegant… vulnerable. Perhaps that was why Natalie’s judgment felt clouded.

In her senior year of school, Natalie started dating a boy named Tyrell Lincoln —a young black man. Natalie had seen nothing wrong with him. He was very smart, fun to be with, could always make her laugh, and she liked that he had the same last name as the 16th President of the United States. However, her family was less than thrilled with her dating choice. Inter-racial relationships were taboo at the time. As a teenager, Natalie was appalled that they wouldn't trust her judgment.

"Why won't you defend me?" Natalie begged of her mother. But she knew her mother would never stand against her father.

"Honor thy father and thy mother," her mother would say, quoting the fifth commandment. Natalie subsequently rebelled against her whole family.

Even her little sister, Loren questioned her. "Why is it so important for you to always win? Can't you just make peace?"

Natalie refused to give in. She was angry at all of them. Her anger was the reason she hadn’t gone with Loren that night... the night of the accident. It had been raining and Natalie and her sister were supposed to meet some friends at the movies, but Natalie refused to go out with a 'traitor'.

She wasn't with Loren when the drunk driver struck her car. She wasn't with her baby sister when her car was knocked into Skippack Creek. The heavy rains had caused flooding and her car was pulled under. Natalie wasn't with her baby sister when she was likely screaming, desperately trying to get out of a sinking car. Natalie wasn't with her baby sister when she drowned.

Angry at the whole world, she pushed against everyone: her teachers, her family and even Tyrell. He tried to help, even brought his minister for guidance. That was the end. What kind of god would punish an eighteen-year-old girl for dating a decent, honest young boy? What kind of god takes the life of a sixteen-year-old girl and lets the drunk driver live unscratched? Natalie was plagued with nightmares that she was standing at the bridge watching Loren's car sink - unable to help. She would see Loren's green eyes pleading for help before disappearing to the watery depth. Natalie wanted to go to the same spot where her sister died and throw herself into the river. She was suffering from typical 'survivor's guilt' and there was no one to help her.

Natalie went on a path of self-destruction and finally, after an attempted suicide, she received psychiatric care. She credited her therapist for saving her life, and he was
her inspiration to follow in his
footsteps, and help others.

Natalie had been thinking a lot of Loren since she began working with Myra. Was she somehow projecting her own survivor guilt onto Myra? Was she trying to save this woman… or was she still trying to save her sister? It was ridiculous. Her analytical mind knew that helping Myra with her demons wasn’t going to bring Loren back. Natalie could save a thousand lost souls and that one fact would never change. She was not there when her sister needed her.

Although Natalie had left instructions to be notified when Myra came to, it proved to be unnecessary. She could hear Myra’s awaking screams echoing down the hall.

"
I need to see Edward again
!
"
Myra exclaimed as she paced about her room like a caged animal. The grace and elegance that usually emanated from her seemed gone. Yet, the heavy skirts did not seem to hinder Myra’s step as she seemed to gain speed in her stride.

Natalie sighed as she looked over at the orderly standing close by, ready to pounce should Myra become violent again. Natalie didn’t feel it was necessary but it was standard procedure at this point.

"
Please. Please! Let them take me to him!
"
implored Myra.

Natalie couldn’t do that, even if she wanted to. The rules prevented Myra from being released in such a delicate state. Natalie knew that they were at a crucial moment in her treatment, and the wrong word now could forever halt any progress. Natalie gestured with her head toward the chair, as she poured water into a plastic cup.
"
I need you to calm down. Here drink some water…
"

"
I really don’t care what you need!
"
Myra snapped as she smacked the cup out of Natalie’s hand. The orderly took a foreboding step forward, but Natalie stopped him with a glare. Brute force wasn’t the answer right now. Natalie needed to regain control of the situation. She turned back to Myra and in a chastising tone,
"
That was hardly the behavior of a lady.
"

Myra scowled at her,
"
There are times when niceties no longer prevail. This is such a time.
"

"
Fair enough.
"

"
What the blazes is happening here?
"
Myra wailed as she continued pacing about the tile floor.
"
I need some answers! Is that my son?
"

"
He’s not your son,
"
Natalie said slowly and carefully.
"
I want you to think about it. Edward is old enough to be your grandfather. Logically… it’s not possible.
"

"
Logic?
"
Myra laughed. Her voice trembled as she struggled to speak.
"
Nothing over the past few days has been what I would refer to as logical. All the people, your clothing, how you live, it’s all changed. What happened to me?
"

"
I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been trying to find out,
"
Natalie said in as calm of a voice as she could.

"
What is Edward’s family name?
"

Family name? An old way of saying surname.
Natalie had the feeling she was being baited. She studied Myra and replied cautiously,
"
I shouldn’t tell you.
"

"
You don’t have to,
"
countered Myra. She stood still for the first time, her blue eyes piercing and sure.
"
I already know. When I saw Eddie… in pain… my memory cleared.
"

Natalie couldn’t suppress the surprise in her face.
"
Your memory cleared? Why didn’t you say so before now?
"

Myra made no reply. Was this some sort of deception? Was Myra trying to trick her into revealing personal information about Edward? Natalie wasn’t going to fall for it, and asked as innocently as she could,
"
What name do you remember?
"

"
Hoffman,
"
replied Myra calmly.
"
That is my name: Myra Amelia Sloan Hoffman. My husband is Archibald Hoffman and my son is Edward James Hoffman…
"

"
I’m sorry. I’m afraid that’s not true,
"
interrupted Natalie, shaking her head.
She must have read it somewhere.

"
Listen to me,
"
interrupted Myra.
"
I know who I am. Why won’t you believe me?
"

"
I believe that you believe in what you say,
"
Natalie said honestly. She knew that Myra truly believed this ‘reality’ she created in her mind. Natalie did not doubt Myra’s conviction. The
Titanic
manifestation and somehow her link or obsession with Edward was some sort of defense mechanism protecting her subconscious from the truth. Natalie also knew they could argue like this forever without either of them forfeiting. She was at a loss of how to proceed.

"
What year is this?
"
Myra asked with an eerie calmness.

Natalie looked at her. There was a strong risk that she wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. Her mind might not be able to accept that her
Titanic
experience was a fantasy. Natalie took a deep breath and cautiously said,
"
It’s 1982. April 3rd
,
1982 to be exact.
"

"
Nineteen Eighty-Two?
"
Myra’s eyes widened, her pupils tumbled around her eyes as her mind tried to grasp the concept that was thrown at it. Natalie studied her face carefully. There were no telltale signs of deception in her expression or body language. Myra sat down slowly in bewilderment, almost missing the chair.
"
Where have I been for seventy years?
"