The House of Memory (Pluto's Snitch Book 2) Read online

“We have only one option,” I said. “Reginald?”

  “We forge her release document.”

  I smiled—finally something that made Zelda’s jaw drop.

  Reginald shrugged with cool composure. “I grew up doing whatever I had to do to survive. I’m a fair hand at faking signatures.”

  “You’d do that?” For the first time since I’d met her, Zelda showed caution. “It’s illegal.” Then again, her father was a judge.

  Reginald lit a cigarette, and the smoke curled slowly upward in the still July air. “We don’t have a choice. If Camilla stays at Bryce, she’ll have her head opened like a cantaloupe. That’s best case. Worst case, she dies on the operating table or disappears like the other patients.”

  I nodded my agreement. “Reginald and I believe Roswell House itself is behind Camilla’s violent outbursts, but we haven’t figured out why. To do that, we need to take Camilla there, for a séance.”

  Zelda took the cigarette from Reginald’s hand and inhaled deeply before she gave it back. “You’re still forgetting the tough part—getting Camilla to go with you. But I’m all for it.” She took the cigarette back again. “Tell you what. I’ll hire Jason Kuddle to search for Joanne—that way you can at least tell Camilla we’re doing our best to find her friend. Maybe it’ll help encourage her to leave Bryce.”

  “That’s brilliant.” I sat forward. “Kuddle’s already looking into missing girls himself.” I thought for a moment. “Our driver told us about three girls disappearing at the same time from Marthasville. Maybe they’re all connected.”

  “They might be.” Reginald was grim. “And if there is a ring abducting young women, then the faster someone gets on it, the more chance of survival those girls will have. Kuddle can investigate while we help Camilla.”

  “Plus he has the law-enforcement connections to make something happen quickly if he finds any evidence.” Zelda tossed the spent cigarette and nudged Reginald. “Butt me.” She took the smoke he offered and ducked her head for a light. Reginald’s gaze met mine above her head, and I knew instantly that, although he was collected and nonchalant about his offer to forge Maude Granger’s signature, he was worried.

  “How are we going to do this forgery thing?” I asked.

  “I’m going over to the Granger house shortly,” Reginald said. “While I’m speaking with Maude about my ‘drug protocol’ for Camilla, someone needs to search the house for the signature of either Jefferson or Maude Granger. I suspect Jefferson signs whatever Maude tells him to.”

  Now we were adding trespassing to our list of illegal acts. “I’ll do it.”

  “I’m a decent actress,” Zelda said. “Tallulah is better but—”

  “No, it can’t be you or Tallulah. I’ll do it.”

  “And if you’re caught?” Zelda asked.

  “I’ll say I fell asleep in the car and came in to look for Reginald.”

  Zelda’s amused laugh let me know it was a pathetic excuse. “That might work for you, but never for me.”

  I told her, “Which is why I’m going to be the one searching her house. Just be sure to get her away from the library or wherever Jefferson keeps his checkbook and legal things.”

  “Library desk, bottom drawer on the left. I’ve been in the room when Mr. Granger wrote a check for Camilla. I can draw an outline of the house with windows and doors where Raissa can enter.”

  “Where is Mr. Granger?” I asked. I’d never met the man.

  “He hides out at a real estate office where he works as an accountant. He goes to work very early and comes home very late. And I understand why.”

  So did I. Ditch digging might be preferable to leisure time with Maude Granger. “Are we ready?” I asked, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt. If I was going to be a true investigator, I had to get over my law-abiding ways.

  “Take the car,” Zelda said, offering the key yet again. “I’ll call Kuddle. Daddy has his business card, I’m sure.”

  “We’re off.”

  Zelda grasped my wrist and gave me an impromptu hug. “Thank you. I know this is not easy.”

  “Not easy but necessary.” Saying the words made me realize the truth. I might not like entering someone’s home uninvited, but I could see no other way.

  Reginald drove and parked down the street beneath the branches of a maple tree that offered some shade. “Give me five minutes. Then get inside. I’ll occupy her for twenty minutes, even if I have to pretend I’m having a heart attack. After that I can’t guarantee that I can keep her busy. When you’re finished, knock on the front door, okay?”

  “Yes.” I clutched the map and watched him walk toward the house. Reginald had left me his pocket watch to keep the time, and at exactly five minutes, I hurried down the sidewalk to the back of the house. As Zelda had said, a library window was open. Cursing my dress, I climbed in, went straight to the desk, and opened the bottom right-hand drawer. Several legal documents were there, and I looked through them until I found Camilla’s commitment papers with both Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s signatures on them. I tucked the papers into my brassiere, the hated garment coming in handy as a hiding place today.

  We’d have to calculate a way to return the papers, but that was a problem for another day. I put everything else back in order, closed the drawer, and fled out the window. A moment later I was knocking on the front door.

  “Is Mr. Proctor still here?” I asked the maid, who remained completely emotionless.

  “Yes, ma’am. Please wait here on the porch, and I’ll tell Mrs. Granger you’re asking for him.”

  I took a seat in a white wicker chair and waited.

  The front door opened, and Reginald stepped out. “I wish you’d reconsider, Mrs. Granger. I feel certain I could help Camilla.”

  “She’s made her bed. Now she’ll lie it in. Her surgery will be performed Wednesday. We’ll put an end to her rebellion once and for all.”

  I stood up because I couldn’t stop myself. “Are you aware what will really happen in this surgery? Dr. Perkins will cut her skull, remove a portion, and slice into her brain. There’s no real way to tell where or how much tissue to destroy. Parts of the brain will be damaged. It could be the part that makes her Camilla. Never to be repaired.”

  Maude drew herself up. “You know nothing. Now get off my property. If I see you here again, I’ll have you arrested, and I don’t care what Judge Sayre has to say. If he were so wise and brilliant, he wouldn’t have a hoodlum for a daughter.”

  Reginald grabbed my arm and assisted me to the steps. As we were leaving, Maude called after us. “I can tell how poorly you were raised, to come to my house and behave like the ill-bred creatures you are. My daughter will never behave in such a manner again.”

  Reginald kept a good hold of my arm, maneuvering me out of the yard and down the sidewalk.

  “I hope you got what you went for, because we’ll never be allowed back on that property.”

  “I got it.” I shook free of his grip, turned around, and pulled the document from my underclothes. “How we put it back will be another story.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” He studied the document. “Both signatures.” A smile lifted the corners of his neat mustache. “Good job, Raissa. I can work with this.”

  Finding a typewriter was our next chore, and we ended up at David’s bank, borrowing the machine his secretary used. I typed up the letter, per Reginald’s whispered directions. It was clear, forceful, and to the point, directing Dr. Perkins and Bryce Hospital to release Camilla to the bearer of the letter, who was her appointed guardian for the return trip to Montgomery, where she would seek additional medical care.

  Since neither Reginald nor I had ever written such a directive, we did the best we could, with coaching from Zelda, who’d obtained legal advice from Bernard West.

  “We’re on the verge of marrying trouble,” Reginald said as we left the bank.

  “Pos-i-lute-ly.” I seldom indulged in modern slang, but my effort earned a smile from Regina
ld. “We don’t have a choice.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  We returned to the Sayre home in time for cocktails. The judge was one drink ahead of us, and he was clearly worried about something. Zelda gave us the eye and a wink to let us know she’d been successful in hiring Kuddle to investigate Joanne Pence’s disappearance. Tomorrow, when we went to Bryce to retrieve Camilla, we could tell her someone was looking into her friend’s disappearance. We could only hope that this fact, plus the mounting evidence of danger at Bryce Hospital, would convince Camilla to leave the facility with us.

  Zelda broached the subject of the missing girls with her father, but he turned the conversation with deft finesse. “Yes, a troubling set of circumstances. I received a call today from Maude Granger. She claims that my houseguests assaulted her.” He stared at Zelda, not us—a good thing because heat suffused my face.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Reginald said. “I did speak to her, but I didn’t assault her.”

  “Are you calling Maude a liar?” he asked. The room had grown deadly quiet.

  “Yes, sir. I am.”

  He held his stern expression for a few seconds, and then the first true smile I’d ever seen broke across his face. “She’s a vile creature. What is it you call her, Zelda?”

  “The dragon.” Zelda lit a cigarette, and I could see she’d been as tense as I was.

  “She’s worse. She claims you yelled at her and threatened to harm her.”

  “Not true.” Reginald sipped his predinner drink. “Raissa described in detail the brain surgery she’s arranging for Camilla to have. The dragon was unflinching in her resolve. No threats were made and no voices were raised, except when Mrs. Granger screamed at us, ordering us off her property.”

  “I thought as much. I told her I would ask. So I did.” He looked at each of us in turn. “Most things that happen in the state, I hear about.”

  Guilt at the things we were planning—and the knowledge we would ultimately be found out—must have risen off me in waves, because Zelda only laughed. “You do have your network of spies, Father. So tell us about the missing girls. What is being done?”

  “It’s a troubling situation.” Zelda’s father eased back in his chair, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “I’ve spoken with the sheriffs in several counties, and there’s a pattern of young women disappearing between Montgomery and Tuscaloosa. So far we’ve had reports of eleven missing females. Three of them have been found dead, including the DuMond girl.”

  “Were they—” Reginald broke off.

  Judge Sayre stood. “Ladies, if you would excuse us.”

  Whatever he intended to reveal to Reginald, we would have to wait for a secondhand report. Judge Sayre was protecting our feminine sensibilities, I understood, but it chafed me nonetheless. I rose and left the library to reassemble in the sunroom.

  “Father is so old-fashioned,” Zelda whispered to me. “He acts like we don’t know a thing about forced prostitution or the seamy side of life. He’d be shocked at what I’ve seen.”

  I finally laughed, because it was likely I’d be shocked, too. “Be glad someone loves you enough to protect you, even though the leash is sometimes too tight.”

  “I can see you’re good with words. Tell us about your story. Scott was asking the last time I spoke with him. I need a report or else he’ll come down here to fetch me.”

  My stories were one thing I was always eager to talk about, and I did so with gusto.

  “I’d say you’re the berries, but Mother would correct me on my language,” Zelda said. “I clean up my act in Montgomery, unless I’m trying to poke the old wet blankets.”

  “Zelda!” Minnie’s correction was more by rote than true disapproval. She indulged Zelda terribly.

  “I’ve always wanted to write, but one short story doesn’t make a career.”

  “Maybe Scottie can put in a word for you with his editor.”

  I was stunned by her generosity. “Really?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and rolled her eyes. “If I ask nicely, and I can be nice when I want to.”

  “Which isn’t often enough,” Minnie said with a spark of Zelda’s own verve.

  “Thank you.” I felt as if I’d won a Triple Crown ride on Man o’ War.

  Althea entered the room to tell us dinner was ready to be served. I’d have to wait until the meal was over to discover what dire details had been revealed to Reginald.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Zelda and Reginald smoked silently on the front porch of the Sayre home. We’d made the best decisions we could, based on the shocking information Reginald revealed to us. All the young women who’d been found dead had been brutally abused. Reginald refused to give the most graphic details, but he said that even in the worst New Orleans brothels or the flesh trade on the streets, he’d not heard of such savagery.

  “Do you think this is what happened to Camilla’s friends at the hospital? Connie and Joanne?” Zelda was pale.

  In Connie’s case, although no body had been found, I had no doubt. Having gone under Dr. Perkins’s scalpel, Connie had left the hospital completely docile. She’d failed to object to leaving the premises with a man who most likely was not a relative—a man she might have never seen before. She’d simply done as she was told. The Perkins’s “cure” had rendered her incapable of defending herself. I couldn’t speak to the fate of Joanne, but the odds were clearly against her.

  “There’s a connection between that asylum and all of these girls.” I spoke what we were each thinking.

  “I fear you’re correct,” Reginald said. He crushed out his cigarette and lit another. He seldom chain-smoked, a sure indication he was emotionally agitated. “I don’t know what do to about it.”

  “Father says the police are investigating. And we’ve hired Mr. Kuddle to look for Joanne. He said he’d have another report soon.”

  Kuddle had told Zelda that it was Dr. Bentley who’d released Connie to her so-called uncle. Bentley was also the doctor who’d been in charge of Joanne Pence while Dr. Perkins was absent. Kuddle had set an appointment with Bentley for the next morning. He vowed to have some answers for us about the girls’ whereabouts. He told Zelda he had a couple of promising leads on both Joanne and Connie. We could only hope that he’d find Joanne Pence in time.

  Only we could save Camilla, and the time had come to plan our rescue.

  A half hour later, we had put aside our many reservations and settled on the actions we needed to take. David Simpson would take Reginald’s and my place in using our forged paperwork to retrieve Camilla from Bryce. I’d chosen this tactic for three reasons. First, because I believed that he had a better shot at convincing her to return to Montgomery than anyone else. Second, because the Bryce staff was far more likely to respond to his request for release than ours. And third, from a legal standpoint, while Maude Granger would have no problem prosecuting Reginald, Zelda, or me, she’d be less eager to file charges against David.

  Once we removed Camilla from Bryce, we had to decide where to hide her.

  “I can’t ask Mother to allow Camilla to stay in our home,” Zelda said. “She’d do it, because she cares for Camilla. But Maude Granger would want Mother’s head on a platter. There could be legal repercussions, which I’m willing to confront. But I can’t involve Mother or Father.”

  “I think a hotel room would be good.” It would uncomplicate a lot of complications.

  “Or perhaps the Montgomery hospital,” Reginald suggested. “Dr. Abbott can put her under his care.”

  I shook my head. “Remember, we want to take her to Roswell House. If Dr. Abbott’s in charge, he may disagree. And there is also the risk of gossip about her condition. Camilla is opposed to that. It could ruin her.”

  “Then hotel room it is,” Zelda said. “I’ll make arrangements at the Greystone. We’ll tuck her away until we’re ready to hold the séance at Roswell House.”

  We left it on that hopeful note and bade Zelda good night. When s
he’d gone inside, I turned to Reginald, who looked troubled.

  “Uh-oh. What did we leave out?”

  “We’ve failed to speak with one of the principals in this case. I want to meet with Jefferson Granger.”

  “Why?”

  “The more we know about Camilla and her family, the better prepared we’ll be for Roswell House. The house is inhabited by something dark and malevolent. Why has it chosen Camilla for its target? Jefferson might just enlighten us.”

  As far as I could tell, Maude ran the show, but Reginald had a point. “It’s a long shot,” I said.

  Reginald nodded, then shrugged. “But he is Camilla’s father. If he has a shred of love for her, maybe he’ll help us.”

  “If there’s a chance Jefferson can be won over, you’re the man for the job. Maybe he’ll give something away that helps us. While you’re checking into Mr. Granger, I’ll see if I can find out anything useful from Florence, the Grangers’ maid.”

  In the breaking dawn of a hot July morning, Zelda, Reginald, and I met David at the train station to see him off for his trip to retrieve Camilla—a plan we’d explained to him over numerous cups of coffee. Even in the heat he wore a freshly pressed suit, starched shirt, and vest. Having him serve as our proxy concerned me slightly—because I could still not rule him out as somehow involved in Camilla’s strange behavior. Even so, Reginald and I agreed that the benefits outweighed the risk.

  “Be careful,” Reginald told David as he gave him the documents we’d forged requesting Camilla’s release and return to Montgomery. “If you can study the files on the two missing girls, do it. I looked them over, but I didn’t have time to explore them in depth. They might help us find the missing girls.”

  David nodded. “Banking hasn’t prepared me for espionage, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Camilla’s future may depend on it.”

  We each hugged him in turn and watched the train pull out of the station. Zelda kicked rocks beside her car. “We’ve embarked on a dangerous path.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “But what option do we have?”