The Tattered Thread
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The last person on Silas’s list to walk out of the library was Nicolette, and she was looking pleased about something. As she passed by the drawing room, she saw Elaine and smiled. It was easy to flag her down. She stopped and came over, looking as if nothing could bother her on a day as sweet as today.
“What is it?” she said. “I’m in a hurry. I’ve got to drive over to the Cleveland office.”
“Detective Connery had asked you to stay after the reading, didn’t he? I believe he wants to talk some things over with you.”
“Did he put you out here to follow me if I tried to escape?” Nicolette asked, half joking.
“No, keeping an eye on you was my idea.”
“I see,” she said, coming closer. “Now’s the time to be honest, I guess.”
“Detective Slye said that there was a problem with the name card in the box that has your name on it.”
“What problem?” she said, looking surprised. “It was the card Katerina handed me on Friday afternoon, and I don’t give a damn what the police say! They’re playing mind games with me, and I don’t like it.”
“They’re playing mind games with everyone.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Nicolette said, turning to leave.
“The card’s authenticity is being questioned,” Elaine said, trying to think up a quick response. Silas had told her to use the card as a teaser, to lead Nicolette into believing that her card wasn’t the original one, but he never bothered to explain how to do it. Her imagination was her only recourse, and her only limitation.
Nicolette looked offended by the implication that the card was a forgery. “Since when does a maid relay classified police information?”
Again, Elaine didn’t answer.
“Even if what you say is true, how could the police have run a complete analysis on the card so fast? Everybody knows it takes them days to do an hour’s worth of work.” Cool words were spoken, but Nicolette’s manner was far from being cool. She seemed impatient for answers, but Elaine would’ve been also if their places had been reversed. After all, Nicolette was being the recipient of some real whoppers, and it was starting to show.
“Why should I answer to you?” Nicolette continued. “Who the hell are you?”
“Whatever made you think you could substitute one card for another?” Elaine asked, still pressing. “Didn’t you think lab tests would be able to prove that the card in the box with your name on it isn’t the original one?”
Nicolette looked stunned but said, “You’re as full of bullshit as Carl was. What’s your game, Elaine? And what are you trying to make me say?”
“The truth.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
Nicolette turned to leave, but stopped when Elaine said, “Mr. Kastenmeier’s stomach contents revealed a card with your name on it. It was exactly like the others in the box: the same font, the same print, the same paper. How do you explain that?”
Whipping around, Nicolette said, “If you want to talk to me again, call my lawyer.” As she spoke, she pointed her right index finger as if she meant business. The bandage on that narrow, intimidating digit was fascinating; Elaine couldn’t stop staring at it. And she was starting to enjoy how easy the lies were coming, and the agitated response she was getting from a woman who always had a level head and a civil tongue was intriguing her. Lying was like eating peanuts; it was hard to stop after the first one.
“How did you hurt your finger, Ms. Howard? Did you cut it using Carl’s straight razor, or did it get burned during the blast?”
Nicolette’s beautiful, dark face drained of color, and she looked paler than a newborn baby’s bottom. Her mouth was gaping, and her eyes rolled over black like a shark’s does before it bites.
“You have a passion for long sleeves and high-button collars,” Elaine said. “Maybe there are scars on your body and you’re trying to conceal them. Now that’s just a guess.”
Nicolette unbuttoned her collar down to the third button and opened her blouse wide enough for Elaine to see. Then she undid each cuff and held up her wrists. “Satisfied?” she asked. When Elaine didn’t respond, she added, “Now kiss my ass.” Nicolette’s face was turning red and her lips were powder dry. She didn’t look scared, just miffed to high hell.
“You don’t sound anything like a maid,” Nicolette continued. “But the noise you’re making does sound familiar. Silas put you up to this, didn’t he?”
Before Elaine could answer, the rest of the people who were still congregated inside the library started coming out into the hall. Lois didn’t bother to stop; she huffed away from the crowd. She looked like a tornado as she stormed past paneled walls and the delicate fretwork arch at the base of the staircase before ascending the stairs. Everyone else stood aside and just let her blow over. Listening to Carl’s will must’ve taken more effort than she was used to, because her perspiration neutralized the wonderful scent she’d been wearing. As she zipped past, Elaine couldn’t smell a thing except stale sweat and plenty of it.
Tasia and Silas didn’t stop to talk, either; they had their heads together discussing something which seemed very important to both of them. When Connery came out, he didn’t look happy at all to find Elaine and Nicolette having a tête-à-tête. Interfering in police business could get her thrown in jail, but she didn’t care anymore. It was just too important for her to determine the truth.