Chapter 60
“There you are, Ms. Matthews,” a tired-looking Detective Bryant said as he entered the small room at the police station. “You’ve led us on quite a little merry goose chase today.”
“I did no such thing,” Beatrice said, trying not to smile.
After the police had left the hospital, they had gone to her home to question her. Of course, she wasn’t there. And after they waited around for a little while, they figured she was out and was not coming back. So, they called Vera to ask if she knew where her mother was. She told them she was visiting Rose. So the police went to Rose’s house—an hour away from Cumberland Creek proper. And by the time they got there, Beatrice was already back home, having a nice hot bath while Jon was taking a nap.
“So where is Cookie?” the detective said, sitting down on the chair across from her.
“I don’t know,” Beatrice said, looking at him in the eye. And it was true. She was amused to find that Cookie had escaped from jail. She had no idea if it had something to do with the scrapbook she’d placed on the rock or not. But she was gone. Apparently, she’d left her clothes behind—except for her robe. So, if she had slipped into some kind of time-travel tunnel, she was out there running around in her robe. And if she was out on the street somewhere? Beatrice shuddered to think of the possibility. “I’m kind of worried about her. I mean, they told me she doesn’t have clothes, just her robe. She could be anywhere. In trouble.”
He looked at her and squinted. “I think you know more than what you’re telling me.”
“Humph.”
“Ms. Matthews. This is a serious matter.”
“I know that.”
“Can you help me out here?”
“I can’t. I’ve told you that I don’t know where she is.”
“How did she get out?”
“How would I know that? I’ve not been in town, even.”
“You spoke with her the day before she escaped. And you were the only one she wanted to talk to.”
He had her there. But still, she had no idea where Cookie was—or how she’d gotten out. Beatrice took a sip from the paper cup that held her tea.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“Tell me what you talked about.”
“That was a personal conversation. Now, I’m losing my patience. Where’s my lawyer? I don’t need your badgering, young man.”
“Bill’s on his way,” he told her. Then he got up from his chair and left.
Beatrice took another sip from her tea. She was trying to contain herself. But she felt like bubbling over with the news of it. Of course, the only way Cookie could have “escaped” was if everything she’d said was true. The device within the scrapbook had worked and had allowed Cookie’s “magic” to work for her escape. Her “invisible” robe had helped. All this, coupled with Beatrice’s placement of the scrapbook in the cave, had provided an escape for Cookie. Somehow. That made Beatrice’s heart and mind race.
Her years of study on time and the possibilities of travel through time and space were not wasted flights of fancy.
Bill entered the room, looked at Beatrice, and shook his head.
“What’s going on, Beatrice?”
“They think I helped Cookie escape.”
“Did you?” he said, eyebrows lifted, hands on his hips.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said.
He sat down. “You talked to her the day before she escaped. Did she say anything?”
“Bill, what Cookie and I talked about . . . it was personal,” she said, tripping over her words. She was lying to Bill, her lawyer and her ex-son-in-law. For the first time a pang of anger shot through her. Cookie! She had placed Beatrice in an untenable position.
“I know you very well, Beatrice. If you’re not going to be honest with me, maybe you should hire another lawyer,” he said.
Beatrice squirmed in the seat. Of all the things she was, a liar did not top the list. Lying to the police and lying to her lawyer, even if he was just Bill, was serious business. But she certainly could not tell him the truth.
“I’m hungry,” she said at last. “You got anything to eat? One of those chocolate bars you carry around?”
He dug around in his jacket pocket, pulled out a chocolate bar, and handed it to her.
After fooling around with the wrapper and finally opening it, Beatrice took a bite and looked up at Bill, who was watching her intently. Well, there was nothing they could do to Cookie now. And most of them already thought she was a half-crazy old woman.
“Bill, the only thing I know is that Cookie asked me to take a book up to the caves in Jenkins Mountain. And I did that. When I came back, she was gone.”
“A book?”
“Yes. Her scrapbook. She called it her scrapbook of shadows.”
“What does that have to do with anything? Christ, Bea, you could be in a lot of trouble. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison?”
“Just because I took a scrapbook up to the cave?”
“You didn’t bring anything in to Cookie?”
“No. Like what? A key? How would I get a card key?”
Bill stood up and paced the room. “I think the police are pretty certain she had one. They’ve been looking at the security tapes, and it looks like she, uh, just opened the door.”
“Looks like?”
“Actually, the film skipped. They see parts of it, but not her actually taking a card key and sliding it into the door. One minute she’s there, and the next, gone.”
“Interesting.”
“I’d say.”
“So . . . ,” Beatrice said, clearing her throat. Damn, this chocolate is pretty good. “Have they looked at the security tapes from when I was there?”
“Some problem with those tapes, too,” he said.
Beatrice cackled. “Virginia’s finest.”
He nodded. “They’ve not brought charges against you yet, Bea. But I’m afraid they will. They are going to try to prove you helped her escape. This is quite an embarrassment to them. They need someone to pin it on. You know?”
“I’ll be damned if it’s going to be me,” she said, smacking her lips.