Blood Relations (25 page)

“Oh, that's my granddaughter Stephanie,” she said.

Stephanie Anne Webster Connelly.

Mother: Julia Anne Thatcher.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I've got to go,” I said, heading back to the living room. “Collette, we need to go.”

“But…”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Lahrs, for talking with us,” I said.

“You're quite welcome,” she replied. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“I think I've got a touch of the flu,” I said.

“Mrs. Lahrs,” Collette said. “With the help of Torie's research, I'd like to go ahead and do the story that your grandson started. When I get to the point where I need photographs, would you be so kind as to let me copy yours?”

Tamara Lahrs shook her head, unsure of what to say. The whole time my stomach was burning and bubbling, to the point I thought I was going to hurl right there on the lady's pretty cream-colored carpet. “I don't know,” she said finally.

“I'll dedicate the story to the memory of Jacob,” she said.

“Collette—” I said. My face was red-hot.

“Just a minute,” she snapped at me.

“As long as I get to read it first,” Mrs. Lahrs said. “I get to approve it.”

Collette weighed this and finally decided it was worth the trade. “All right,” she said. “I'll let you read the story and approve it, and if I don't print what you read, you can sue me. In exchange for copy of photographs and documents.”

“Okay, I suppose that would be all right.”

“Thank you,” Collette said.

As we stepped outside, I took a deep breath and felt the cold air hit my hot face. Collette grabbed me and kissed me on the cheek. “Whoo hoo! I got the story of a lifetime. I get to blow the lid off of the Huntleigh heiress! Soon to be known throughout America as ‘the Huntleigh scandal.' I couldn't be happier. I don't even care that there are smelly, disgusting cows over there swishing their tails and crapping all over the place. The world is beautiful!” she said. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Get me home,” I said.

“Sure thing. Torie, you look like you saw a dead person.”

“No, did that once this month already.”

“Torie, what's up?”

“My sister. Stephanie Connelly.”

“Yeah, what about her?”

“She is Jacob Lahrs's cousin,” I said.

“Yeah, so?” she said, getting in the car.

I sat in the front seat and stared straight ahead at the dashboard.

“Oh,” she said. “You think she was involved somehow?”

“That's what I'm afraid of.”

Twenty-nine

I sat on my front porch, all six feet by six feet of it, staring out at the river and the dirty old snow. That's the downside of snow. Eventually, it turns brown. The sky was gray and heavy, as if it were about to fall. The weatherman had predicted more snow, which was fine with me. It would cover up the brown stuff, and then I could pretend that it would be white and beautiful forever and forget all about the layer of deflowered snow beneath it.

I could not, however, pretend it was a coincidence that Stephanie Connelly and Jacob Lahrs had come to New Kassel the same week. Every time I buried myself in some activity, thinking Stephanie was gone from my mind, a question would scream at me from some dark corner of my mind. Had Stephanie deliberately befriended me so that I would be more likely to help Jacob if he asked me to?

Well, she had another thing coming. Of course I suspected her of something. What, I don't know. But I knew there was something going on. I believed that. But how could she have known how my mind would work?

I hadn't slept all night. At some point, while Rudy snored and the furnace clicked on and off, the sun had come up and the chickens had begun to cluck. I don't think I had closed my eyes longer than a few seconds. Stephanie had called twice yesterday, and once last night. She had called again this morning, and all four times, I'd refused to speak to her.

It's not that I didn't want to speak to her. Oh, I wanted to speak to her all right, but I wasn't ready yet. Just in case there was some chance that this was pure coincidence, I wanted to make sure that I didn't say the wrong thing. And in order for that to happen, I needed to put some time between my discovery and a conversation with Stephanie.

But I never got that chance. Stephanie Connelly, my newly found sister, pulled her car in my driveway. She got out in a hurry and rushed up the sidewalk. “Torie, you have got to let me explain.”

“Explain what?” I asked, cool as a cucumber. Okay, some might say I was flippant and distant. I preferred to think of it as cool.

The expression on her face was priceless, sort of a combination of confusion and relief. It didn't last long, though. “Well, if you don't already know, then now's the perfect time to tell you,” she said.

“I'm listening.”

“I am Jacob Lahrs's cousin,” she said.

“Yes, I know.”

“But you just—I'm confused,” she said.

“So, tell me, Stephanie.” I stood up. “Was it your idea or Jacob's idea to contact me?”

“It's not like that,” she said.

“Then tell me what it
is
like,” I replied, losing my patience.

“Jacob knew you were my sister, from the first time he ever stepped foot in this town,” she said. “He and I were about the same age, and so we were always pretty close. At Christmas one year, he took me aside and told me everything he had discovered about our family. When he was finished, I told him that it was so ironic that my half sister lived in the very town where my great-grandfather's steamboat had sunk.”

“To say the least,” I said, crossing my arms.

“I saw it in a different light. I took it to mean that I was destined to meet you, that our paths would definitely cross,” she said.

“You didn't have to have a great-grandfather wreck a steamboat and bury diamonds in a cemetery in my town to make our paths cross, Stephanie,” I said. I turned to go inside. “All you had to do was show up.”

“Just hear me out!”

Exasperated, I turned to face her. A part of me, the stubborn part that came from my father, made me just want to say, Forget it. Go away; leave me alone. No matter how sincere she was, no matter how much sense she made, no matter how much that little voice in the back of my head said to listen and believe, that streak of stubbornness ran through my blood and made me want to turn around and go in the house without another word. My dad got his stubbornness from his grandmother. He used to say that his grandma Keith was so mean and stubborn that she would raise hell and then stick a prop under it.

I don't know if I'm that bad. But right then, I was feeling none too charitable.

“A few years later, Jacob asked me if I was ever going to contact you. I told him I wanted to but that I hadn't gotten up enough nerve,” she said. “I asked him why he wanted to know that, and he said because he thought you would be a great help to him. He had heard about how you assisted the sheriff sometimes, and, in general, knew of your reputation. He thought you could help him locate the diamonds.”

I rolled my eyes. She knew about everything. Even the diamonds.

“But Jacob was pretty sure he knew where they were, without enlisting your help,” she said. “Then the river got so low…”

“And then you decided to contact me,” I said. “Why didn't you just tell me you were Jacob's cousin?”

“Because I thought you would think I was just doing it to help Jacob. You might have thought he wanted a favor or something, and I didn't want that. I wanted you to know that I wanted to meet you on my own, not because Jacob might need your help,” she said. “So when he told me he was coming to New Kassel to dive through the wreckage, I knew I had to make my move.”

“Why?”

“Because I was afraid you'd find out on your own that you had a sister. Jacob kept telling me that you would be able to make the connection if given the right information. And I just didn't want you to find out about me that way,” she said.

I stood there looking at her, trying to judge if she was telling the truth or not. We must have been ten feet apart from each other during the entire conversation, me on the porch and she on the sidewalk. It started to snow then, and I couldn't help but laugh. I love snow. So does Stephanie. I wondered if this was some sort of otherworldly sign for me to trust and believe her. Okay, it might be corny, but that's what I felt.

“I swear to you, Torie. Jacob was not the reason I contacted you.”

“Well,” I said. “When I tell the sheriff, he's probably going to want to know if you had an alibi for the night Jacob was murdered. He's rather thorough.”

She smiled, her hazel eyes nearly disappearing. “I was at home with my husband and daughter, playing Monopoly, of all things.”

“Oh, and we know how long Monopoly can take. You must have been there all night,” I said.

“At least three hours, but I always lose my patience and quit early.”

“So do I,” I said.

She laughed at yet another similarity between us. I turned to go in the house, then remembered something. “How did you know I'd made the connection between you and Jacob?”

“Well, I had made up my mind to tell you about Jacob and me a few days ago. But then Granny called and told me that you and your friend had been to her house. I knew if you'd looked at any of her pictures, you would make the connection. Then when you wouldn't take my calls, I just knew you had found out,” she said. “And that you'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

I raised my eyebrow at her.

“Not that you jump to conclusions all the time or anything.”

“Hmph” was all I said. As I reached for the door, she spoke once more.

“Do you believe me?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I believe you.”

“Then everything's okay?” she asked.

“Everything's fine,” I said. “I'll call you.”

As I walked in the house, I couldn't help but think about how strange it was to have somebody else initiating a confrontation. I was usually the one who did that.

I had jumped to conclusions about her. I had immediately thought that there was more to her making contact with me than met the eye. Maybe because she also jumps to conclusions, she just assumed I would, too. Lord, Stephanie was even beginning to identify and pounce on my faults. Yup, she was just about a regular member of the family. There was only one initiation she had yet to go through.

NEW KASSEL GAZETTE

The News You Might Miss

By

Eleanore Murdoch

 

How much snow are we expected to endure? For anybody else experiencing those winter blues, how about purchasing a ticket for the Valentine's dance, sponsored by the Knights of Columbus?

You can take your sweetheart, take somebody else's sweetheart, or find a lonely heart under the red lights and soft music.

I am pleased to say that the New Kassel Kings made a respectable comeback in last night's home game. Unfortunately, there still seems to be a parent or two who think the chairs on the sidelines are to be used as confetti.

It seems as though some of the furor is dying down over the steamboat wreckage. No pun intended to poor Mr. Lahrs. Our town is returning to normal, and slowly the faithful tourist is replacing the reporter and news cameras. I've decided that New Kassel is our home first, and our commodity second. Even if Oscar and I did make a few extra bucks this month from all these visitors.

Until Next Time,

Eleanore

Thirty

Three days later, I was seated at my desk in the Gaheimer House, munching on some crackers and drinking a Dr Pepper, when the phone rang.

“Gaheimer House, Torie,” I said.

“This is Mr. Lawrence Belfer,” a voice said. “I am returning your call.”

Lawrence Belfer was the only person on
The Phantom
passenger list that I had been able to find alive. He lived in Idaho, and I had called twice and left messages for him. “Mr. Belfer, I am so glad you called,” I said. “I'll make it quick, since I know this is a long-distance call for you. From my messages, I guess you realize that I'm interested in
The Phantom,
” I said.

“Yes,” he replied. “What did you want to know?”

“How old were you when it sank?”

“Nine and a half,” he said.

“Where were you located on the steamer when it started to go down?”

He hesitated a moment. “Right outside the pilothouse.”

“Mr. Belfer, what caused the boat to sink?” I asked.

“Captain Thibeau was in the pilothouse,” he said. “He was talking to another man about selling his boat to him in exchange for some jewels or something.”

“Diamonds?”

“Could have been,” he said. “Can't be sure. Was a long time ago. Anyways, the other man didn't want to buy the boat. Captain said he had to sell it. He had to get out of the business 'cause he was wanting to get married.”

I blinked. “You're sure that's what he said?”

“Well, maybe not in those exact words, but that's what it sounded like to me. And they was yelling really loud. The fight got bigger and louder, and then they started throwing punches. Next thing I knew, we were driving hard for the Illinois bank; then the boat went back the other way, and the wave we'd caused clipped us in the front.”

“In other words, the water came up over the bow of the boat?”

“Yes,” he said. “Then it turned, and everybody started screaming.”

Mr. Belfers and I spoke a few more minutes about what he'd been doing with his life since the accident. He asked what my interest was, and I told him that the drought had exposed the wreckage and newfound interest had come of it. We then said our good-byes and I hung up and stared at the phone, realizing that the argument Captain Thibeau had had was probably with Samuel Higgins. While I was staring at the phone, it rang again. “Hello?” I said.