Authors: Marie Higgins
Chapter 23
In one week, Abby would be murdered.
Nick growled and raked his fingers through his hair, not feeling any closer to finding the killer than before. In his early years as a detective, he’d never investigated a murder, so this was still new to him. He had to find out who wanted Abby dead before it happened. He would never be able to live with himself if she died a second time.
Nick convinced Abby to let him borrow one of her father’s motorcars. It only took a few minutes to figure out how the thing worked. Once on the road though, he cursed the blasted thing for not going fast enough. It would take all day to get to where he needed to be!
He’d dressed in one of the expensive suits Abby had purchased for him, and he even wore the ridiculous-looking hat. Then again, just about every man he saw wore such a hat. Nick had to fit in. Plus, he looked more professional than he did working at the newspaper, so perhaps he’d get more answers.
Nick had discovered that Alexander and Julie no longer lived in San Diego, but right here in Sacramento, so he drove to their home. As he parked in front of the two-story house, he realized Alexander must not have much money. Abby had told him as a ghost that her father had bought out his brother’s stock in the newspaper. Apparently, no one had showed the adopted brother how to budget his funds. Chips of paint had crumbled from the house. The roof and broken-down porch were in desperate need of repair.
Nick knocked on the front door, shaking the hard wood on its hinges. After a few minutes, the door opened. A woman stood looking at him through a narrowed gaze. This was Alexander’s wife, Julie. Nick remembered her from the cemetery.
He removed his hat and nodded. “Mrs. Carlisle?”
“Yes?”
“Hello, I’m Nick Marshal, attorney at law. I’m working with partners to investigate the Edward Carlisle estate. Will you allow me to ask you a few questions, please?”
Her gaze swept over him before a wide smile lit her face. She patted the back of her hair, which was pulled up in a messy bun, and opened the door wider. “Please, Mr. Marshal, come in. I would love to answer some questions.”
As he looked at the dingy furniture and tattered rugs, Nick wondered how Julie could stand to live in squalor after living almost as grandly as Abby.
“Is your husband Alexander here?”
“No, he’s at work.” She motioned to the sofa. “Would you like to take a seat?”
He silently said a prayer of relief that Alex wasn’t home. Alex would have recognized Nick from throwing him out of Abby’s office the other day.
He sat the edge of the sofa and entwined his fingers, then rested them on his knees. “Thank you for taking a moment to answer some questions.”
She sat in the single-cushioned chair next to him. “Does this have anything to do with Alexander’s lawsuit against Abigail Carlisle?”
Nick arched an eyebrow.
So the man actually thinks he can get Abby’s inheritance?
Nick would show him otherwise. “Yes, ma’am, it does.”
Julie squared her shoulders and swept the stray strands of hair away from her face. “What would you like to know, Mr. Marshal?”
As he studied her, Nick realized that if she took care of herself a little better, she would be a strikingly handsome woman. Perhaps she had been before the family had fallen on hard times.
“In your opinion, why shouldn’t Miss Abigail Carlisle receive the majority of her father’s estate, including
The
Sacramento Journal?”
“Well, mainly because the girl hasn’t a clue how to run a newspaper. My husband ran it with his brother when they first started it. The newspaper should go to my husband. He deserves it, Mr. Marshal.”
“But Miss Carlisle has other people to help her run the business. She wouldn’t be doing it alone.”
Julie waved a hand at him as if to dismiss what he said. “Well, my husband has just as much right to half of that estate as Abigail does. He was Edward’s brother.”
“Miss Abigail is Edward’s daughter, his heir. That holds more clout, Mrs. Carlisle.”
She huffed and folded her arms. “But Alexander was the one who helped Edward start the newspaper. Together, they combined their money and stocks to build the paper. And yet a few years into their business, Edward’s temper ruined my husband’s chance of success.”
“Tell me more,” Nick said. “Why did Edward break off ties with your husband?”
Julie stared at Nick for a long time, her lips pursed, her hands held tight against her stomach. “Edward was a lusty sort of man,” she finally began. “His wife died when Abigail was five, but he didn’t mourn for long. Alexander didn’t like the way his brother acted. He didn’t like the way Edward would stay out all night with women and ignore his daughter.”
“What happened?”
“Many times Alex tried to reason with him, but Edward wouldn’t listen. One day I decided to say something. I felt so sorry for little Abigail. She needed a mother desperately, but I couldn’t be her mother.” She drew invisible lines on the arm of the chair with her finger. “I met Edward in his office to talk to him.” A blush spread across her face, and she didn’t meet Nick’s stare. “He—he made improper advances and tried to have his way with me. Before anything happened, Alex walked in.”
Nick’s gut told him Julie wasn’t being entirely honest.
“My husband and Edward traded insults and threats. The next day, Edward bought Alex’s stock in the company and kicked him out. Edward actually accused me of flirting with him, if you can believe that.”
Nick bit his cheek to keep from grinning. Yes, he could believe it.
“Anyway,” Julie continued, “after that we moved away from Edward and Abigail, and we fell out of touch. Alex didn’t want to have anything to do with his brother.”
Nick nodded. “I understand, Mrs. Carlisle. But what I can’t understand is why your husband thinks he should get more of the newspaper if he was only in it for a few years.”
“Alex didn’t get a fair price for his share. Besides that, Mr. Marshal, did you not hear me say they are brothers? Isn’t that a good reason?”
Nick didn’t want to point out that Alexander was only the adopted brother. “Is there anything else you can think of as to why Miss Abigail should not get the inheritance?”
“My husband deserves it, I tell you,” Julie said rather crossly. “Abigail has had everything handed to her since she was a child. She’s been pampered beyond reason. I think she needs to grow up a little, just like Alex was forced to do after he and his brother parted ways. Alex has paid for his mistakes, and now the money should go to him. He has heirs that will carry on the Carlisle name. Edward doesn’t.” She raised her eyebrows. “Unless he has some illegitimate children running around we haven’t met yet, and that wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”
Nick recalled the elderly Cassandra saying something to that effect. “Miss Carlisle, do you know something I don’t?” He leaned toward her and offered his most charming smile. “Any tidbit of gossip might help your case immensely.”
Her amber eyes sparkled. “Indeed?”
“Oh, yes. I can assure you.”
Julie rubbed her hands together. “Well, my husband knew quite a lot about dear old Edward’s secret life.” She leaned forward. “I’d mentioned earlier what a lustful man Edward was. Well, after we moved, he had many affairs.”
“Do you have any names?”
On each finger, Julie named a woman. Lillian Burnett was not mentioned, which made Nick wonder if Abby’s maid had lied. Perhaps she had loved Edward but he didn’t return her feelings, and she had invented a romantic relationship that never existed. Then again, if Abby’s father was as amorous as Julie suggested, he probably would have welcomed Lily’s affection.
“I wonder why Miss Abigail didn’t know about these women.” Nick scratched his chin.
Julie laughed. “Because Edward wasn’t about to let his daughter know he was far from being a saint. She’d put him on a pedestal, and she’d have words with anyone who had a different opinion about her father. Edward wasn’t going to destroy that.”
“Was he like this before his wife died?” Nick asked gently.
Sadness filled Julie’s eyes. “No, he made his wife very happy. Personally, I thought he chose the wrong woman to marry, but he insisted on marrying for money.”
“Weren’t his parents wealthy, too?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t about to marry a woman in a lower class, even if she did love him with all her heart.”
She’d almost whispered the last part of her sentence, and Nick wasn’t sure he’d heard right. But as he studied Julie and noticed tears in her eyes, he guessed she’d been in love with Edward at one time. Was she speaking of herself when she said he wouldn’t marry a woman in a lower social class?
“Mrs. Carlisle, why didn’t Edward find a second wife and settle down?”
She blinked and the tears disappeared. “Because nobody was perfect enough to be a mother for Abigail, and since Edward spoiled her so much, he could never find the right woman.”
“Do you honestly believe he might have sired more children?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why haven’t the women come forth then? Wouldn’t they want help?”
Julie chuckled, then leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “You don’t know Edward Carlisle very well, do you?”
“Apparently not.”
“Well, if you knew him, you’d know how powerful he was. He would have paid the women to keep their silence and sent their brats to a boarding school far away.”
Nick stood and smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Carlisle. You have opened my eyes to a lot of things.”
She got to her feet and walked him to the door. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
As he climbed in the car, Nick considered adding Julie to his list of suspects. Obviously, she had been in love with Edward, and she still harbored injured feelings. And she certainly didn’t exhibit a great fondness for Abby. But would the woman kill? She didn’t seem the type.
* * * *
For the next few days, Abigail kept herself busy at the newspaper, learning as much as she could about the business. Harry was hesitant to show her the specifics, insisting that she couldn’t possibly run the paper. It bothered her that he had no faith in her abilities, yet Nick always lifted her up and helped her believe in herself. Was it possible that men took women more seriously in Nick’s time?
She sat at her desk one morning, after talking with a few of the staff. Frustrated, she blew out a puff of air between her lips. Nick had been on her mind constantly—especially lately. Should she believe his claim that he came from the future? If he was telling the truth, someone was out there who wanted her dead! If it was her uncle, she’d happily give him the money he asked for, even though he didn’t deserve it.
Abigail took a deep breath and focused on the next day’s issue. The sinking of the
Titanic
was still a very popular topic, especially with the investigation going on in New York. Was the White Star Line responsible for over fifteen hundred people dying in the frigid cold waters?
Nick had also explained the
Titanic
story to her, giving her details the newspapers didn’t mention. How could he know that the representative of the White Star Line had encouraged the captain of the
Titanic
to run all the engines at full-steam capacity? It was tragic that the ocean liner hadn’t been equipped with enough lifeboats to save everyone. Nick had mentioned that in the future, Hollywood would make several movies about the
Titanic.
How extraordinary.
A knock sounded on the door, and Harry poked his head in the room. “Are you bored yet?”
“No, Harry. Come in.”
He smiled and entered the office, then closed the door behind him. “Have you looked over tomorrow’s edition of the paper?”
“Yes.”
“Do you approve?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Harry. The investigation of the sinking of the
Titanic
is very interesting, but it’s also extremely depressing. There should be more to lift our readers’ souls instead of discouraging them. Don’t you agree?”
Harry chuckled as he sat in a chair beside her.
“My dear Abigail.”
He took her hands in his. “This is why I don’t believe you should run the newspaper. This isn’t the society page. This isn’t the gossip column. We report the news, good or bad.”
She sighed heavily and rested her elbows on the desk. “I know, but I think we need more good news.
Stock markets are rising and falling all the time.
People are losing their jobs. Don’t you think we’re focusing more on the bad events?”
Harry rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs. “Do you believe your father knew what he was doing when he put together this newspaper?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you think he stayed successful? Was it because he wanted everyone to hear about how Mrs. Whitaker painted her
house,
or that Mr. Johnson sold his prized steed? How about when Mr. Perry broke his leg and his tenants helped him recover?”