After talking to the police, Jane concluded that it was time to come clean to Eleanor about her real reasons for renting the upstairs bedroom. She’d grown fond of the older woman and felt increasingly ill at ease deceiving her, though she also understood that it was part of her job. She would have taken her aside as soon as the police left, except that Eleanor had immediately left for the hospital with Iver.
As Jane entered her bedroom to pack her overnight case, she was seduced by the sight of the bed. It looked so comfortably soft and inviting. She propped herself against a couple of pillows, thinking she’d shut her eyes for a few minutes. Several hours later, she woke to the sun streaming in through the window blinds. She couldn’t believe she’d slept so soundly, partly because she was worried about Lena, but mostly because of her concern for Julia. She held her phone up in the air and saw that she had a couple texts from Cordelia and another couple from her restaurant manager. Nothing that couldn’t wait.
Swinging her legs out from under the covers, she tapped in the number for the hospital and asked to be connected to the ICU. A woman’s voice answered.
“This is Jane Lawless. I’m calling about Julia Martinsen.”
“Oh, yes. This is Betsy Williams. I’m the nurse who was just coming on when you were leaving this morning. I’m happy to report that your … friend … is feeling better. She’s sitting up in bed and, at the moment, she’s having a light breakfast. Dr. Reid is in with her right now.”
Jane was happy to hear it. “Do you know if any of the test results are back?”
“Not yet,” said the nurse.
“Could you tell Julia that I’ll be there in about an hour.”
“She’s scheduled for more tests this morning. If you want to spend time with her, I’d say you should wait until after lunch.”
Not what Jane wanted to hear. She thanked the nurse and hung up.
Grabbing a towel and her toiletry kit, she padded barefoot across the upstairs landing to take a shower. She stood under the water, allowing the heat and the steam do what several hours of sleep had been unable to do—loosen the tension in her muscles. Feeling reasonably refreshed, she toweled off, pulled on her bathrobe and headed back to her room. As she passed the stairway, she heard the front doorbell chime and, a few seconds after, Eleanor’s voice saying, “Come in, Sergeant Corwin. I’m so glad you could come by so quickly.”
Jane bent her head to listen.
Iver offered the police officer a cup of coffee.
“No, thanks,” came Corwin’s voice. “How is your sister doing?”
“Not well,” said Eleanor. “She’s in a coma. We came home because I forgot to take my medications.”
Jane removed the towel from her wet hair so that she could hear more clearly.
“So, when you called,” said Corwin. “You said you had important information you wanted to give me.”
“Yes,” said Eleanor, her voice firm. “I do.”
Jane wished she could see the old woman’s face. At least this conversation wasn’t being whispered.
“This has all been weighing on me,” continued Eleanor. “Lena, too. It’s something we agreed we’d never talk about. A family secret. One we’re terribly ashamed of. It’s led to so much hurt. You see—” She cleared her throat. “It’s about the bones that were found in our garage.”
“Go on,” said Corwin.
“I understand my niece gave you a sample of her DNA yesterday. Or was it the day before. I get mixed up.”
“What about the bones?” asked Corwin, sounding impatient.
“Eleanor,” said Iver, a warning in his voice.
“No, I have to do this. You have to let me. The bones … you see, they belonged to my niece’s—Britt’s—father. Stew Ickles. Stewart Neil Ickles. He was married to my sister, Pauline, Britt’s mother. He … you see he—” She stopped speaking.
“Please, continue,” said Corwin.
Again, she cleared her voice. “Shortly after Stew and Pauline became engaged, we found out that Stew and my other sister, Lena, had been secretly involved. Stew was a truck driver for a national company. When he would come through town, they’d sneak off together. When Pauline called to tell us she was pregnant, Dad and I were thrilled. That is, until we learned that Lena was pregnant, too, and that Stew was the father. Lena was furious with Stew, though she swore us to secrecy. She spent days stomping around the house yelling that Stew had betrayed her, used her, that she hated him. Hated Pauline. Hated the world and everyone in it. And then, without telling us where she was going, she left. I didn’t see her again until my father died in June of ’78 when she and the boy she’d given birth to came back for the funeral.”
“And what about this Stew Ickles?” asked Corwin. “Did he come for the funeral, too?
“No. By then, he was dead. You see, in February of that year, four months before my father died, Stew came through Saint Paul and stopped at our house. My son, Frank, and I were living here at the time. When Stew arrived, Dad took him out to the garage so they could talk privately. Stew asked my dad to loan him money. A lot of money.”
“Eleanor,” interjected Iver. “Please stop.”
“No,” said Eleanor. “You have to let me finish. Stew used Pauline and Britt as leverage, said that if my father really loved them, he’d bail Stew out of some sort of bad financial situation. They ended up in an argument, one that became more and more heated. Somehow—I wasn’t there, so I don’t have all the details—it got physical. My father was merely trying to protect himself. You have to understand that. Stew … well, he was injured. Mortally. He fell and hit his head. It wasn’t my father’s fault, but he panicked and buried the body in the root cellar. I’d heard their argument so he had to tell me what had happened. He made me promise I’d never tell another living soul, but when he died a few months later and Lena came back for the funeral, I confessed what I knew.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Corwin. “Your father and Stew Ickles had an argument in February. The upshot was Stew’s death. Didn’t Pauline suspect something was wrong when her husband didn’t come home?”
“By that time, they’d been married for six or seven years and the relationship had deteriorated to the point where she wouldn’t see him for months at a time. She more or less assumed that he had girlfriends all over the country. When she came for the funeral, she was talking about divorce.”
Jane couldn’t believe her ears. Was Eleanor actually lying to the police? Some of it fit with what Britt had told her, but much of it didn’t.
“So, you’re saying your father accidentally killed Stew Ickles and hid his body in the garage.”
“That’s right,” said Eleanor. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. Lena and I talked it over. As I said, it was weighing hard on both of us. I may be wrong, but I think what happened last night with my sister was an attempted suicide. We’re all so deeply ashamed of what’s happened in our family. We all played a part and so, I suppose we all share a piece of the blame.”
Silence followed her comments.
“Well,” Corwin said finally. “That’s all very interesting, but I’m afraid your story doesn’t fit the information I was given by our forensic examiner.”
“What do you mean?” asked Eleanor, a slight tremor in her voice.
“Stewart Ickles was the victim of a homicide, Mrs. Devine. You got that much right. But not by an inadvertent bump on the head. The man was slaughtered. It was an act of rage. Of obliteration. I’d say that, if your father was responsible, he lied to you about what happened.”
“No,” came Eleanor’s voice. “No, that’s not possible. My father would never do something like that.”
“However it all shakes out, we’ll need an official statement from you. For that, you’ll need to come down to the station.”
“But I can’t right now,” said Eleanor. “I have to get back to the hospital to be with my sister.”
“Understood,” said Corwin. “Give me a call when you can and we’ll set up a time for someone to take your statement.”
Jane heard chair legs scraping against the floor, but wasn’t quite ready to go back to her room. Until this moment, she would never have considered the possibility that Eleanor could lie so easily and convincingly.
From downstairs came the sound of the front door closing and a bolt being thrown.
“How could you do that?” came Iver’s voice.
“I had to,” said Eleanor. “Don’t you see?”
Before he could respond, the phone rang.
“Will you get that?” asked Eleanor. “I’m not feeling very well.”
Iver’s voice now came from the kitchen. “Hello?” he said sharply, almost angrily.
“Who is it?” called Eleanor from the living room.
“I see,” said Iver. “Yes, thank you. I’ll let her know.”
Jane leaned against the banister and closed her eyes.
“It’s Lena,” came Iver’s voice, weaker this time, all the anger drained away. “I’m afraid … she’s gone, Eleanor. She was pronounced dead a few minutes ago.”
The house grew deathly silent. Jane was afraid to move for fear that she’d give her position away. It seemed like an eternity before Eleanor began to cry.
“I’m sorry, Eleanor. So very, very sorry.”
“Oh, Lord,” she cried, her voice thick with tears.
“I’m afraid you and I both have a lot to answer to our maker for.”
“I never should have involved you.”
Jane couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. How was Iver involved? What on earth was going on in this family? Whatever it turned out to be, it was far darker than Jane had ever anticipated. She would need to be careful. So would Britt.