Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (34 page)

Keeping his gun aimed inside, he pushed the door ever so gently with his other hand. There was a slight squeak from the hinges. De Kirkhaugh held his breath and he stepped in ever so carefully. The wooden parquet floor creaked loudly as he stepped into her flat. The element of surprise was gone.

"
Janna?
"
de Kirkhaugh called out.
"
It’s DCI de Kirkhaugh!
"

He paused and waited for a response. Nothing.

He crept up the stairs to the first floor landing. With his gun held in front of him, he slunk around the corner as quietly as he could.

No one.

"
Janna, are you home?
"
he called out again.

Still nothing.

Should he keep searching her flat? He didn’t have a warrant to enter her premises. What if she’s just stepped out to post a letter or something? How would he explain his presence in her home? Continuing to search would also mean looking into her bedroom and that would be a huge invasion of privacy should he be…

Wrong!

He felt the air drop out of his lungs as he spotted Janna’s blonde hair, caked with blood. She was lying face-down in a crimson puddle in the middle of the hal
lway outside the loo
.

De Kirkhaugh struggled to move toward her... to the final truth. He knelt down beside her and felt her wrist for a pulse, but she was already gone and going cold. There was no longer any denial.
This is my fault. I
got her involved. She didn’t deserve to…

He noticed a metallic swirl in the pool of blood that had gathered on the wood-tiled floor.
Gallium!
It had melted from the heat of her blood. The bullet had oozed out of the wound. He had seen this before. Too many times. This was the M.O. of the assassin Jack Frost!
Bloody Hell! Why?

Suddenly he heard the door creak open behind him. De Kirkhaugh spun around with his gun drawn. He could hear a heavy footfall on the downstairs landing. The footsteps were slow and deliberate.
Could it be Jack Frost? Why would he return?

The footsteps were getting louder, nearing the top. In another second or two the intruder would be in full view. De Kirkhaugh held his breath so as not to make a sound as he positioned his finger directly over the trigger.

The mysterious figure appeared fearlessly around the corner and faced him straight on.

De Kirkhaugh let out a sigh of relief and lowered his weapon,
"
Oh, it’s only you! Help me, Janna has been shot…!
"

As he spoke, De Kirkhaugh turned back to Janna’s body.
It'
s too late to call for help.

"
I know,
"
the familiar voice replied softly. Then de Kirkhaugh heard the click of the chamber before he could turn back around.

BLAM!

Chapter
XLV

The snowmobile track had continued along the road for some time. If it had been someone’s joy ride, there were numerous trails to be found in the area. On the other hand, even with a winter storm, traveling over the ice in April was not advisable as it was likely not thick enough to hold the weight of a snowmobile.

Edward followed until the tracks were too blanketed with snow to see anymore. Edward could only guess at its path for so long before a fork in the road made it impossible to proceed. It was likely an exercise in futility; he had no way of knowing with any certainly that Myra was on a snowmobile. He could have been chasing a teenager for all he knew.

WAK-WAK-WAK-WAK-WAK

Edward’s thoughts were drowned out by the sound of a helicopter flying overhead.
That’s dangerous,
Edward thought to himself. For many years, his company had been trying to perfect methods to provide an ice protection system for a helicopter’s main rotor blade. Precisely because of an extreme cold, snowy weather situation like today, the rotor blades would be at risk of
"
over-torquing
"
the engine, if they froze up. This particular helicopter was taking a great risk in being out at all, and it was heading back in the direction of his lake house.

. . .

"
You have reached Edward Hoffman. I’m sorry to have missed your call. Please leave your name and number and I will return your call at my earliest convenience. Thank you.
"

BEEP

"
Hello Mr. Hoffman, this is Callum Toughill. We met a couple of years ago, I’m the investigator for Lloyds. Inspector de Kirkhaugh gave me your personal number to contact you directly. I have some information about Dolanna Fergraith. She’s alive. Could you call me back as soon as you can?
"
Callum said into the phone after his third try to get through. He hated talking to answer-phone machines. He always felt like an idiot, talking to nobody. He hung up after leaving both his pager number and Pamela’s direct line.

He had to remember to give Father Landon some extra money for ringing up long distance calls on his phone. Father Landon had shown such great generosity and patience by leaving him be while he took over the Rectory kitchen.

He had finally managed to go through all the little pieces of the puzzle left to him by his grandfather, though there were some that were perplexing items that had no explanation as to their importance. For example, an old invitation sent to Agatha Gilcrest for the wedding of Archibald Bartholomew Hoffman and Myra Amelia Sloan, which was to take place at the Bloomingdale Reformed Church in New York City.

Callum looked at the date on the wedding invitation. Agatha Gilcrest hadn’t lived to see those nuptials. Why had his grandfather included this invitation with all the other clues? What relevance did it have to the case? It was another reason Callum hoped to speak to Edward Hoffman.

_ _ _

After Edward pulled the Jeep into the laneway, he started trudging toward the lake house when he spotted Myra sitting in the gazebo overlooking the frozen lake. Edward plodded through the deep snow past the cedar trees to reach her.

"
Have you been here the entire time?
"
Edward asked as he stepped into the gazebo.

"
No,
"
she replied, still staring out into the lake. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a hat or gloves, yet did not appear to be shivering.
"
I came out to find something familiar. Something untouched by time. There used to be a willow tree down there by the lake.
"

Edward looked over where she was pointing. He remembered it well. It had been damaged by lightning about twenty years ago and had to be cut down, for fear that it might topple onto the lake house.

"
I had carved my initials into that tree…
"
Myra whispered.
"
When I was a young girl of twelve or thirteen.
"

Edward recalled the initials MS & WB having been carve
d on the tree and assumed MS was
Myra Sloane. He had assumed that it was put there by the
mother
who raised him, but when he asked her about it once, she said she couldn’t remember. Edward now sat beside Myra and tested,
"
What did you carve into the tree?
"

"
MS and… WB
"
she replied.

Edward blinked a couple of times, then asked,
"
Who was WB?
"

"
Walter Bertrum,
"
she answered as she turned to look at him for the first time. Then she pointed to the west.
"
His family had a lake house down that way. And I was infatuated with him. He had red hair and freckles… and the sweetest smile. I used to dream that he would ask me to marry him… But I knew that could never happen.
"

"
Why not?
"
Edward asked, bewildered.

"
His family was of new money. His father was the tycoon of indoor commodes.
"

"
Toilets?
"

"
His family was never invited to any social functions or soirées around here, and the way my family spoke about them made me want to be with him all the more.
"

Edward rubbed his hands and stomped his feet on the wooden planks for warmth as he continued to listen to Myra, who still seemed unaffected by the cold.
"
One day, just to be rebellious I invited Walter Bertrum to be my escort at a lunch social. It caused quite a stir. Mother was not pleased. When autumn came, I was sent to an all-girls finishing school in England. I never saw Walter again. Today I wandered by his lake house to see if it was still there.
"

"
Was it?
"

"
No… it
’
s gone. Now it’s a part of a…. what’s an ‘R-V camp?
’
"
Myra asked, the words sounding foreign on her tongue.

"
Yes, the Bertrum family sold it decades ago. It’s changed hands several times, and it’s been a campground for about fifteen years.
"

"
What ever happened to him? Did he ever marry? Have children? He’s more than likely dead.
"

"
Forgive me for being so bold,
"
Edward began.
"
But what did you see in Father?
"

Myra turned and looked at Edward again. After a long moment she took a deep breath and replied,
"
It was arranged by our families.
"

"
What?
"

"
We were introduced at a social function. Archie was nice. He was also attending a boarding school, and while we were introduced, our fathers negotiated our marriage.
"

Edward found it astonishing that in the western world of the 20th century, arranged marriages still existed.
"
I find it difficult to imagine you went along with that.
"

"
What could I do? Go against Father? The Hoffman family was of very, very old money, but the lineage had almost died out. Archibald was considered their ‘miracle child’.
"

"
How so?
"
asked Edward, never having heard any of this from his father.

"
Francis and Elizabeth Hoffman had been unable to conceive a child for years and they were afraid of the Hoffman line dying out. Then along came their son Archie and subsequently, they needed him to have a son. Do you know what the first thing Mrs. Elizabeth Hoffman said to me?
"

"
I can’t imagine.
"

"
‘You look fertile enough,’
"
replied Myra.
"
I felt like a mare brought to a stallion just to sire racehorses.
"

Edward watched as a tear streamed down her face, almost crystallizing in the cold.
"
They must have been relieved when I was born.
"

"
Ecstatic,
"
Myra answered.
"
…And I loved you the moment I first held you in my arms.
"

She turned and looked at Edward and placed her hand on his face. Edward gasped at how cold her hand was, but he found himself comforted by it.

He gazed into her eyes while she continued,
"
I was so afraid of the pressures they were going to put on you. I remember holding you in my arms the day you were born and I prayed to God that he would give me the strength to protect you. I made a promise to God that I would be there to keep them from controlling you…
"

Edward took off his glove as he placed his wrinkled hand on her other icy hand. She didn’t even react to the touch.

"
Then I saw your face when you heard what had happened to Dolanna. I saw the same hollow look of regret that I’ve seen in the mirror —
that you were also robbed of a chance for happiness… now you are the last Hoffman… so we both sacrificed happiness… and for what? Why did this happen?
"

Edward put his arm around her and Myra broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
"
I’m sorry Eddie… I’m sorry I broke my promise… I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.
"

"
You’re here now… Mother.
"

Chapter
XLVI

After not having stepped out into the daylight for hours, Callum finally realized he needed food. Not wanting to carry the heavy iron box with him, Callum left it in the safety of Father Landon’s rectory.