Tuesday morning was foggy and dark. Storm clouds had rolled in overnight surrounding the small city and blanketing the ocean. Dulcie heard a foghorn in the distance and threw off the covers. She glanced at the clock and groaned.
An hour later Dulcie sat at her desk, staring out of the window into the fog. A tap at the door made her look up. Tom stood in the doorway. “Can I come in?” he asked.
Dulcie motioned to the chair in front of her desk. Tom walked across the room, and Dulcie noticed that his shirt was untucked in the back already. He slouched in the chair, looking tired. “What can I do for you?” Dulcie said.
“Um, I know I asked this before, but I need a little time off again. It’s my Mom this time. Dad’s healthy enough to be back on the boat, and Mom is at home all alone. Seems this murder has her spooked. She’s nervous about me working in a place where a murderer could be running amuck. Those were her words, not mine. I told her not to worry about it, but she is anyway. I think a couple of days with her would set her mind at ease again.”
Dulcie sighed. “Under the circumstances, Tom, and we do have very unusual circumstances, I will say yes, take a couple of days off. I’d like to see you again by Friday, though, if that works for you?”
“I’m sure it will. Thank you.” He began to leave her office.
“Tom?” Dulcie called to him. “What about the investigation? I was told to stay in town for a few days, until further notice.”
“Yeah, I’m going to call that detective and let him know where to find me.”
“Good idea. See you on Friday.”
After a quick thank-you, Tom silently departed. Dulcie peered at the door after he had closed it behind him. ‘Something has him spooked, too,’ she thought, ‘and he’s not alone. We’re all on edge these days.’ She worked quietly in her office for the remainder of the morning until the telephone rang just before noon.
“Dulcie, it’s Alicia,” she sounded like someone pretending to be upset. “I won’t be in at all this week. I can’t believe that any of this has happened! Poor Uncle Joshua! He was my favorite, and…,” she broke off for a moment and sniffed loudly.
“That’s fine, Alicia. I understand,” Dulcie interrupted before Alicia could go on with any more fake sadness. “Take your time and rest. It’s a terrible shock, I know. However, I do need that background file on the Homer painting. Could I stop by and pick it up this afternoon? Around two o’clock?”
Alicia hesitated. “Yes, I guess that would be all right. I’ll have it ready.”
“Thanks. See you then. Take it easy, all right?”
“I will. Goodbye.”
Dulcie clicked the phone off. ‘Sure he was your favorite,’ she thought, ‘but apparently, you weren’t his!’ She stuck out her tongue at the phone.
The afternoon sun was making a feeble attempt at shining through the remaining clouds and fog as Dulcie walked to Alicia’s waterfront apartment. The view across the bay looked misty and ethereal. ‘Only the best for the princess,’ Dulcie thought. She tapped on the door and Alicia answered. Her hair was tousled in a perfect way and her make-up was subtle, to play up a look of weariness, Dulcie noted. It did not fool her, but Dulcie was sure that Alicia’s act did fool many.
Alicia seemed genuinely nervous to have Dulcie there, however. She met her at the doorway with the file, handing it to her quickly. She was about to speak when the telephone rang. Looking flustered, Alicia stepped back, opening the door for Dulcie to enter. Alicia hurriedly answered the telephone and went into the next room, speaking sharply and quietly. Dulcie looked around her. She had only been in Alicia’s apartment once before. It was tastefully and sparsely decorated in a very modernist way. The bedroom was immediately to her right and appeared to have a glorious view of the bay. Dulcie stepped into the doorway.
The atmosphere was a bit more lush here. A risqué, for its time, poster of a Toulouse-Lautrec can-can dancer hung over the bed, while a Matisse blue nude decorated the opposite wall. The bedside table also contained several objets d'art that looked interesting. Hearing Alicia’s footsteps, Dulcie quickly stepped back into the entranceway.
“I’m so sorry. Here’s the file that you wanted. I managed to find some good material at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. I hope it’s helpful.”
“Thank you. I’m sure it will be. Is there anything that I can do for you?”
“No, thanks. Mummy is flying in tonight, and we’ll sort everything out. Thanks for stopping by.” She nearly pushed Dulcie out of the door.
‘Hmm,’ thought Dulcie, ‘anxious to see me go? ’
Alicia had never liked Dulcie, which did not bother her in the least. Alicia was the sort of person who felt that the world owed her something simply because she was alive. Her looks and her money had provided her with everything that she could want when she was younger, but the former were definitely showing signs of fading. As for the latter, Dulcie suspected that the trust funds were fading even faster.
Dulcie felt sorry for her at times, but could not bring herself to like Alicia. She had given her an internship at the museum only to honor Mr. Harriman’s wishes. Alicia certainly had the credentials to do the job – she was a very intelligent woman with a great deal of knowledge about art – but her personality was so abrasive that Dulcie would never have considered her if Alicia had not been otherwise connected with the museum.
Dulcie walked through the gray streets and back to her office. She got a cup of coffee, then sat back down at her desk. She opened the file that Alicia had given her, but her eyes did not seem to want to focus for longer the two or three minutes at a time. She walked over to the window and watched fingers of fog weave across the bay. The islands were barely visible, only ghostly outlines in the distance. On clear days they looked as if they were so close that she could touch them. Today they seemed to be a thousand miles away.
Maine, she had thought, was such a safe place. People looked out for one another but never interfered. Everyone seemed open and honest, almost to a fault, unless one was a stranger. People ‘from away’ were not distrusted, they were simply unknown. Until they stayed long enough to become known, which could sometimes take generations, Mainers would deal with them from a polite, safe distance.
Now, however, someone had invaded that safety, perhaps someone that she knew and trusted. Should she be nervous? She was a little, she had to admit, but not really frightened. How could she be any kind of a threat to the killer? She had no information that could lead to him, and she certainly had nothing that he could want. Of course, there was the matter of the million dollars from the will, but Dulcie believed that she would never see that money. She was sure that the will would be contested, and that the money would either be awarded elsewhere or would pay for lawyers’ fees. No, nobody would be interested in snuffing out her.
Dulcie saw the nearest island momentarily disappear, then reappear dimly. It would be dark early with all of this thick fog. The view reminded her of Alicia’s bedroom view. She laughed softly, wondering what Alicia would think, had she known Dulcie was snooping around her home. ‘I wasn’t really snooping, though,’ thought Dulcie, ‘I was just curious. All I did was step in the door.’ She thought about the sparse decoration. Her mind pictured the bedroom like the islands in the fog, images of things fading in and out. Then, she stared without seeing, her mouth slowly gaping open in astonishment.
She hurried to the telephone and quickly made a call. Detective Black answered. “I’ve got to talk with you. It’s important, but I can’t here. Can you meet me at my house after work? …Six-thirty? …Yes. Thank you!” Her heart pounded as she sat at her desk again. She pulled out a sketchpad and began drawing as fast as she could with dark, slashing strokes. Could it be?
Time passed quickly with her mind racing. At quarter past six she turned out her light and left the office. She did not bring her briefcase with her. ‘I’ll never get anything done tonight,’ she thought. The museum closed early on Tuesdays and was dark as she walked through. She closed and locked the side entrance door, setting the alarm code as she did. The fog had become a heavy mist surrounding her and blocking all but the nearest objects from view. It seemed to soak into her skin. Dulcie wished that she had worn a jacket that morning.
As she quickly walked down the street, Dulcie heard footsteps behind her. ‘Glad I’m not the only one working late,’ she thought. She turned a corner. The streetlight overhead had burned out, making the foggy street very dark. She stumbled once, then heard the scrape of a shoe on pavement again behind her. She quickened her pace, but sensed the other person doing the same. The street was growing darker as she continued farther along. ‘I must be crazy. There’s no one following me,’ she thought. But, just to make sure, she turned and looked over her shoulder. A dark figure loomed behind her and took several steps quickly toward her, closing the gap between them.
Dulcie spun back around and ran, as fast as she could. Her heart throbbed in her throat as a vice-like grip grabbed her arm from behind. She screamed and wrenched free, nearly falling on the rough cobblestones, then caught her balance and ran down an alleyway. She heard running footsteps behind her and darted between two buildings, not paying attention to where she was going. Running as fast as she could, she quickly realized that she had made a wrong turn. She was tearing down a long wharf and she could see the end of it ahead. She had no escape. The tide was out and the wharf stood at least fifteen feet above the water level.
Dulcie screamed again as she felt two hands grabbing her, one of them closing around her neck. She felt a horrible smelling cloth being smeared across her cheek, over her mouth. She twisted hard, breaking free, and, without thinking, jumped into the cold water.
Everything was black. She had never been in such darkness before. The cold shocked her body so that she nearly gasped. She repeated over and over in her mind, Hold your breath! Hold your breath! Dulcie had no idea what was around her. She swam under the water for as long as she could until her hand felt a large, hard object in front of her. ‘Boat hull,’ she thought. Her hand slid along its shape as she rose through the water, at last reaching the surface.
Her lungs were bursting. She tried not to gasp for air, taking long, silent breaths. Moving slowly, she looked around her. About thirty feet away she saw the wharf and a lone figure dressed in black peering out into the water. Dulcie froze, motionless, then slowly sank below the surface again.
When at last she could no longer hold her breath she rose, gently emerging to the surface. The figure on the wharf was gone, but Dulcie was terrified that he was not far away. She looked around and began to realize where she was. The wharf that she dove from was old and soon to be torn down. It was no longer used for docking boats. The boat that she had found was tied to the next wharf over. She thought she heard a noise on it above her. ‘He could be anywhere!’ she thought.
The ocean water was incredibly cold and her fingers began to feel numb. ‘I’ve got to swim toward Durwood’s. More people will be there,’ she thought. Dulcie silently plowed through the water with a modified breaststroke for what felt like miles. She could not tell where she was from underneath the wharves, but knew she must have passed at least three of them. When she reached the next, she swam around the boats docked there until at last she found a rickety looking ladder that reached to the top. She was shivering uncontrollably now, and looked up at the fifteen feet of distance that she would have to climb. “Come on! You can make it,” she whispered through chattering teeth. Rubbing her hands together briskly, and not feeling her fingers, she slowly eased her way up the ladder. Her numb fingers could grip nothing, so she hooked her elbows through the slats to hold on. The rough wood bit into her cold, wet skin. When she at last reached the top of the wharf, she huddled with her knees against her chest, overcome with shock and fear.
No one was around. She knew that her cell phone was in her pocket, but it would be useless. As the fog swirled around her, she thought that she could make out an old-fashioned pay phone at the far end of the wharf, closest to land. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. Crawling slowly along the heavy wooden planks, she finally reached the phone. She rose up on her knees with as much strength as she could find and dialed 911, hoping that the phone would actually still work. Then she collapsed with the receiver swinging over her head.
#
Dulcie heard a faint chirping sound in the distance. She felt groggy. She slowly opened her eyes and saw both her brother and Detective Black staring down at her. She blinked.
“Nice hair!” Dan said. “You smell great, too.”
“Shut up,” Dulcie murmured and smiled. She looked at Nick and said, “You found me.”
“Yes, thanks to your call. You managed to locate one of the very few pay phones left in the city. Good work.” Nick attempted to sound nonchalant. He tried not to betray his concern as to what could have happened.
A nurse walked over and checked Dulcie’s pulse. “You’ve suffered from mild hypothermia and shock. We have you warm and dry now, though. How do you feel?”
Dulcie closed her eyes for several seconds, and then opened them again. “Tired. And thirsty.”
The nurse gave her some water through a straw. Dulcie smiled her thanks. She looked around the room. “When did you find me? How long have I been here?”
“The paramedics picked you up within ten minutes of your call,” Nick said. “It’s about eleven o’clock now, so you’ve been in the hospital for at least four hours. Dulcie, if you’re feeling up to it, can you tell me what happened?”
“Oh, she just likes to have a swim after work,” Dan teased. Dulcie knew from his joking that he was worried.
Nick laughed quietly, but said nothing.
“I was walking home to meet you,” she said to him slowly. “It was getting dark, especially because of the fog, and I had a creepy feeling that someone was following me. Apparently, I was right. He tried to grab me, but I ran. I lost track of where I was going and ended up at the end of that old wharf that the city is going to tear down. Whoever it was behind me grabbed me again and tried to shove a horrible smelling rag over my mouth, but I wrenched away and just jumped into the water.”
“Damn! Dulcie, I can’t believe you had to…,” Dan interjected.
“There was nowhere else to go,” Dulcie said. “It was so dark and cold in the water. When I came up for air, I could still see him there. So, I sank underwater again. When I surfaced the next time, he was gone. I was terrified he’d still be around, though, so I just swam until I was as far away as I could manage. I don’t know how long I was in the water, but it felt like a really long time. Then, I found a ladder on one of the wharfs, climbed to the top, and when I saw a phone, called for help. I don’t remember anything after that.”
Detective Black and Dan exchanged worried glances. “Do you remember what this person looked like?” Nick asked.
Dulcie was silent for a moment. “No. He was in black, not very big, and didn’t seem terribly strong, either. I think that’s how I managed to get away.”
Nick nodded. “What was it that you wanted to tell me? Why did you want to meet me?”
Dulcie thought hard. Her mind was slowly becoming clear. “Yes! That! I didn’t want to say anything at the museum, because I was afraid that someone would overhear. I’m getting paranoid these days.”
“Rightly so,” quipped Dan.
Dulcie continued, “I was at Alicia’s apartment this afternoon to pick up a file. She left me alone when she answered the telephone. I’d only been to her place once before, and I was curious, so I started looking around a little. You’ll never believe what I saw! It was that fertility goddess statue! The one that was in Mr. Harriman’s study!”
“Are you absolutely sure it was the same one?”
“Yes, as sure as I can be under the circumstances. It’s very unusual. Mr. Harriman bought it in Mexico. It’s pretty valuable.”
“Where exactly was it?” Nick asked.
“On her bedside table. I didn’t realize what it was until I thought about it later. That’s when I called you,” she said to Nick.
Nick had been leaning against the end of the bed. He straightened suddenly. “I have to go. Thank you, Dulcie.” He turned to Dan. “Please take care of her?”
“You can count on it,” Dan said.
When the detective had gone, Dan turned to Dulcie. “What’s going on? What’s this all about?”
Dulcie sighed. She was very tired. “Dan, I’m not sure, but I think the statue is the murder weapon. It was in Mr. Harriman’s study before he was killed. Remember the sketch that I made of the study? Nick asked me about it. Actually, he asked me what had been on a certain table in the study after he looked at the sketch. It was the statue, and I just saw it again at Alicia’s apartment this afternoon.”
“Do you think that she could have…?”
“She’ll do almost anything for money, I think.”
“Dulcie, listen. Are you sure that it was a man chasing you tonight?”
Dulcie’s eyes grew very wide. “No,” she said slowly. “I’m not sure.”
#
Detective Black felt uneasy. He knew where all of the signs pointed, but something bothered him. Was it too simple? No. No murder investigation was ever simple.
He had to act quickly. The attempt on Dulcie’s life may have been just that, or it may have simply been a scare tactic. ‘She’s a very lucky lady,’ he thought. Lucky to be a strong swimmer. Lucky to be quick witted. Lucky.
Was it really luck? Would anyone go to those lengths to secure a million dollars? Deep in his soul he knew that some people would. “Rule out no one,” he said aloud. Not even that brother of Dulcie’s who seemed to be the salt of the earth. If Dan Chambers knew that Dulcie would inherit, he might have gone to great lengths to make sure that it would happen.
However, in this case all of the evidence seemed to point in another direction. The hair found at the crime scene. The missing statue that Dulcie believed she saw. The assumption of a large inheritance.
He needed to do a search. The wound on Harriman’s head was mostly a large bash but did contain a long, linear, deeper gash. If the statue had a heavy rim around the base that matched the wound, he just may have located the murder weapon. Then he would know which suspect he needed to arrest.
The missing painting bothered him. The business of the statue seemed far too simple. Detective Black believed that the answer to the entire case would be with the painting. “Find the painting, and you’ve found the murderer,” he said. The rest would fall into place.
He went back to the police station and filled in the necessary paperwork for the search warrant. ‘Better get at this right away,’ he thought. No sense in giving her time to hide the thing, or dispose of it. He made arrangements for the search, then called his partner.
“Yeah?” a groggy voice on the end of the line answered.
“Who said you could sleep? We’ve got a murder to think about.”
“Hey, I’m an old man now. Can’t keep up with you young fellas without my Zs. Wha’d’ya need?”
“Well, how about doing a search in about six hours?” Nick asked.
Johnson suddenly became more alert. “What have you got?”
“Dulcie’s awake now. She’s okay. She wanted to meet with me earlier this evening because she thinks she spotted that little statue that was missing from Harriman’s study. You’ll never guess where.”
“Enlighten me.”
“In Alicia Harriman’s bedroom.”
“Whew!” exclaimed Johnson. “Is she sure?”
“She’s got a good eye for those things. She’s as sure as she can be, given that she didn’t have long to see it without the little witch around.”
“Do you think it’s what clocked the old guy, too?”
“I’m sure gonna get it tested for everything! Blood, hair, anything they can come up with. I just requested the search warrant.”
“Good. Now you go get some sleep. When should I meet you?”
“Six in the morning, at her apartment. I’ve got it under surveillance right now in case she tries to skip out with the evidence.”
“Great. Good work. All right, I’ll see you in a few hours.” Nick heard him stifle a yawn.
“Thanks. G’night Johnson.” Nick turned out the light on his desk and went home, knowing that he would crawl into bed, but get little sleep.
#
Dulcie lay awake in the hospital, staring at the ceiling. The other bed in her semi-private room was officially empty, so Dan had commandeered it half an hour before. He lay there breathing heavily, and Dulcie knew he was asleep. She looked up at the IV bottle in the dim light and watched the clear fluid drip down.
Nothing made sense. Alicia was selfish, vain, and sometimes even cruel, but never did Dulcie think that she would resort to murder. Especially not twice. Dulcie tried to recall, with all of the clarity that she could muster, the events over the past several days. She knew that she must have the key to it, somehow. Why else would she be a threat to anyone? Reaching over, Dulcie pressed the button to raise her bed up to a sitting position. The humming noise woke Dan instantly.
“You okay?”
“Yes. I’m just thinking. Or trying to. Dan, could you do me a favor and see if you can find a cup of tea in this place?”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll go ask the nurse.” He looked back at her and smiled. “Don’t go anywhere!”
Five minutes later he returned with tea for both of them in mismatched mugs. “The cafeteria was closed, but they took pity on me at the nurses’ station and boiled some water. Pretty nice folks.”
“Most people are,” Dulcie said as she reached up for one of the mugs. “Dan, I need to think this through out loud. Are you awake enough?”
“I am now.”
“Sorry. Really, though, I need to go through this from the beginning.”
Dan nodded and sat down on the foot of her bed.
Dulcie took a tentative sip of her tea, then blew on the top. She looked up at her brother. “On Thursday, Mr. Harriman volunteered to fly down to New York so that he could bid on the painting.”
“Who knew about that?” Dan interrupted.
“Everyone at the museum, I expect. We were all buzzing about it. The purchase in general, I mean.”
“So he flew down there, but when exactly?” asked Dan.
“He flew down on Thursday night. It was the night before the auction. He called me from his taxi when he had arrived in New York, but I heard nothing else from him until late in the afternoon on Friday, when he called to tell me that he had the painting.”
“Did anyone else know about that?”
“No one that I know of. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“What happened that day? Ordinary stuff?” asked Dan.
“More or less. Alicia was supposed to be back, but she’d called from Boston on Thursday afternoon and said she needed another day for the research. Tom left early on Friday morning to help out his family on the lobster boat. He said that his Dad had the flu.”
“You were okay with him taking the time off?”
“Of course. He was just finishing up a project for me, so we talked about it, and then I gave him the rest of the day off.”
“Was this before or after Harriman called?”
“Before.”
“So he could have been there still when you got the call about the painting?”
“Yes. Yes, he could have, but he seemed anxious to leave.”
“How easy is it to pick up the phone at the museum on more than one extension?” Dan asked.
Dulcie thought for a moment. Usually she talked with Joshua Harriman on her cell phone since they often spoke at hours when she was not in the office. Suddenly, she remembered that this call had been different. He had not called her cell phone.
“Dan! Mr. Harriman called on the main museum number! He didn’t call me on my cell like he usually does! I answered because I knew that no one was on the front desk right then, but anyone else could have picked up an extension and listened in! Anyone in the museum at the time, who had access to a phone, could have known that Mr. Harriman would be coming home that night with an incredibly expensive work of art with him!”
“So who was there in the museum with you?” Dan asked.
“I wish I knew,” Dulcie answered. “I think we should let Detective Black know all of this.” She wondered if she should call Nick right away, but decided to wait until she had thought through everything.
“Let’s keep going,” Dulcie said. “I went home as usual on Friday night after I’d talked to Mr. Harriman. He said that he would arrive back in Portland late and would call me first thing on Saturday morning. We were going to meet at the museum. I waited and waited for him to call, but he never did, so at noon I went over to his house. The housekeeper was already there, but she seemed to be acting in a normal way, although I did overhear the end of a strange phone conversation she had. Something about gambling. She told me that she thought Mr. Harriman had gone out for a walk because the door was unlocked when she had arrived. She hadn’t heard him around in the house. I thought it was strange he would go out and leave the door unlocked with a very expensive painting lying around, so I went in the study to look for it.”
“Yes, and I know the rest,” said Dan.
“After the scene in Mr. Harriman’s house, you brought me home, and I slept.”
“The next day, Sunday, did anything happen then?”
“No, that’s when the Detective…”
“Who happens to be sweet on you,” Dan interjected.
“Oh, stop it! He is not! He’s just being kind because I’ve been through a lot. Getting back to the point,” Dulcie glared at her brother for a moment, “Sunday was when they read the will. It was, I suppose, your typical will reading with petty, hysterical family and friends,” she said sarcastically.
“And I know who got what. You and Mrs. Whipple, not to mention the museum, made out quite well. Harriman’s brother did, too.”
“Yes, but I know the family will contest, and I really don’t expect to see any of the money.” She looked pointedly at Dan, “So don’t you go expecting any shiny, big presents from me, brother!”
He laughed. “I wasn’t. Don’t worry. All I need is the occasional six-pack to cure my woes.”
Dulcie smiled quickly, then frowned, concentrating again. “So, it’s the cousins, Jim Harriman, Alicia, Mrs. Whipple, the museum, and me. We all have motives, in a way.”
“Did anyone know about the will?”
“I certainly didn’t. I don’t think Alicia did. She was spitting mad.”
“What about a basic motive of robbery?”
“I’ve thought about that. The Homer is so high profile that no one could have sold it openly. They’d have been caught in a second. If anyone wanted to steal it they would need an insider’s knowledge of the art world, not to mention the black market, to profit at all. Not many people fit that bill. Just me, Alicia, Tom, and a couple of others at the museum who both have alibis.”
“Do Alicia and Tom have alibis?”
“Apparently. Alicia was having a fling in Boston and was with a guy all night on Friday and Saturday morning. He vouched for her. Some research trip.”
“My opinion of her remains unchanged,” said Dan.
“And, Tom was at home with his mother.”
“All right. We’re up to Monday now. Monday was the funeral. Anything strange there?”
“Not really. Some tears, of course. I remember Tom had his arm around a woman who was crying. It must have been his mom. He just asked me for another couple of days off because she’s shaken by this whole thing. Apparently she’s very nervous that he’s working where a killer could be on the loose.”
“As am I,” added Dan. “Why would she go to the funeral, though?”
“Who knows? You know how some people are. They need to pay their respects for one reason or another. Maybe she felt as though she was indirectly in Mr. Harriman’s debt because he funded the museum internship for Tom?”
Dan nodded and stood up, taking her empty mug from her. “Could be. At any rate, you need to get some sleep now. I’ll be here all night, so don’t worry about a thing. I also noticed when I got the tea that your friend the detective has posted a police guard at the door, so you’re safe.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight, Sis.”
“I’ll try. Thanks, Dan.” She closed her eyes and heard him lie down on the other bed again.