Chapter Twenty-four
“You haven’t touched your dinner, missus,” Florence said, her face full of concern. “Did I overcook the meat?”
“No, Florence, it’s delicious,” Jane said. “I’m just thinking.”
Nick turned to her, chewing on a piece of meat with his mouth wide open.
“No see food, please,” Jane said absently.
Nick clamped his mouth shut. “What are you thinking about, Mom?”
“Ivy,” she replied, her tone despondent.
“I’m done,” he said. “May I please be excused?”
“Sure.”
He ran off.
“Has Detective Greenberg made any progress?” Florence asked.
“Not really. It’s not as if we don’t know anything. We know a lot. In fact, the lodge was positively jumping the night Ivy was killed, and my guess is that we know about virtually all of it. And yet . . .”
“And yet, missus?” Florence paused, her fork in midair.
“And yet there’s one thing that keeps troubling me.”
“Yes?”
“Okay,” Jane said. “You’re smart. Let’s see what you make of this. Ivy was going after a big story for the newspaper where she worked. A story so big that I don’t think she would have risked leaving her notes in her apartment.” She hadn’t told Florence about Ivy’s room having been searched. “She must have had notes, a few words, something. Where would she have put them?”
“That’s easy,” Florence said. “She would have kept them with her at all times. That’s what I would do.”
“I thought the same thing. But nothing was found on Ivy, in her room, or in her handbag or suitcase. Where else could these notes possibly be? It would have had to be someplace she knew was safe.”
“Easy again,” Florence said with a smile. “Right here.”
Jane frowned at her. “Here?”
“Sure. In this house. She would have left the notes here and then picked them up after the retreat. Don’t forget, Ivy didn’t know she wasn’t coming back here.”
For a moment Jane stared at her. Then she slowly rose. “You know, I think you may have something. Excuse me.”
She hurried out to the foyer, up the stairs, and along the hallway to the guest room. Her gaze went immediately to the nightstand to the left of the bed. Rushing over to it, she pulled open its one drawer and gazed down upon a small spiral-bound notebook. She flipped it open. On the first page were several notes:
hiding
corporate layers—have to pierce them to top
speak to club owner, manager—other employees
speak to neighbors
city records—public?
corporate layers—have to pierce them to top
speak to club owner, manager—other employees
speak to neighbors
city records—public?
The second page, the only other page in the notebook that had been used, bore only a drawing:
“Find anything, missus?” Florence poked her head into the room.
Jane slipped the notebook into the pocket of her skirt and went out to the hallway. “Yes. You were right. Ivy did leave a notebook in the night table. But I’m afraid there’s not much in it.”
Florence looked disheartened.
“But thank you for the tip,” Jane said, descending the stairs. “Now let’s finish that delicious dinner you made.”