Charles knocked on Derby's door, nervously shuffling his feet back and forth. Derby's home in the neighboring town of Tisdale was a small, four-room cottage. He was one of its eldest residents and several of the townspeople doted on him - Winnie Cahill being one of them. She had called Charles when Derby was home sick two days in a row. Charles finally saw Derby peek through the blinds and then slowly open the door. "Derby, are you doing okay?" Charles asked. "Come on in," Derby said. "I'm just feeling a little under the weather, that's all…Did Winnie call you? She keeps calling here." "Well, yes, she did," Charles said, sitting down on a vinyl chair at the small kitchen table. "Listen, Derb, has that Mrs. Hart talked to you?" Derby put the teakettle down. "No…" he paused. "Why?" "She's a writer. She's doing a story about the hotel, but she's asking a lot of questions about Gloria." He looked up at Derby, who was staring at his teacup. Charles continued, "She showed me an interesting photograph." Derby looked down and poured the hot water into the cup. "Do you want some tea, Charles?" he asked without looking up. Charles looked around the kitchen, noticing that things looked slightly unkempt. A sprinkle of sugar left on the countertop; an unfolded dishtowel lying near the sink - none of these things would seem out of place to just anyone that visited, but Charles knew Derby too well to know that he was not himself. "No. I'm all set…Derby, that photograph," he paused. "How did she get it?" Derby sat down at the table, shifting his gaze through the small kitchen window. "I gave it to her…I mean, I left it under her door." Charles looked straight at him. "Why'd you go and do that, Derb?" Derby cleared his voice, hoping to assert himself. "Because I'm getting too old. I don't have much time left. I want to know what really happened." Charles scratched his head. They had not spoken of Gloria Cromwell in many years. "I don't understand. What do you think really happened?" "She didn't kill herself. I don't care what the report said. Somebody killed Gloria," Derby said, his hands shaking with the relief of speaking her name after all these years. "Who do you think did it, Derby?" Charles said, running his hands through his hair. "Well, I don't know. That's why I thought that Mrs. Hart would be able to find out. You heard Miss Belleveau at the staff meeting. She said that Mrs. Hart was interested in Gloria and that they had found some things of hers…I was hoping that the picture would interest her enough to look into it further." Charles shifted in his chair. "Aren't you afraid of what she'll discover, Derb?" "No, no. I don't fear anything anymore."
Jennifer found Sandy alone at the antique shop, leafing through a magazine. She was surprised to see Jennifer.
"Well, hello again," Sandy said sheepishly.
"Hi Sandy. Would you have some time to talk with me?" Jennifer said. "I'm doing some research on Gloria Cromwell, and I was hoping you might be able to help me."
"Well, sure…Listen, I'm sorry about the other day. Cole and I didn't mean to offend you, okay?" Sandy said, putting the magazine away. "Do you mind meeting in the back office? Cole went on an errand and I have to look after the shop."
She led Jennifer through a door to a small back office, cluttered with papers and magazines. Sandy cleared off a chair for Jennifer.
"Sorry for the mess. We don't have people back here all that often, as you can see," Sandy chuckled, settling into a creaky office chair. "Gee, I don't know how much help I can be about Gloria Cromwell's murder. Most of what I know is based upon what my grandmother told me. I don't know how true her stories really are."
"From what I hear, the coroner's report said Gloria's death was a suicide. Did you ever hear anything about that?" Jennifer asked.
Sandy laughed. "I don't think she killed herself. I mean, she was stabbed. How many people stab themselves if they want to die? I don't know what the coroner's report said, but most people say she was murdered. My grandmother thought it was the owner of the hotel at the time. That's her theory, for whatever it's worth."
"Hmmm…well, it's as good a theory as any, except I'm told that Lowell Cabot liked her - filled his library with books for her visits," Jennifer said thoughtfully.
"Maybe she turned him down, romantically, that is. Some male egos can't take that," Sandy offered.
"I don't think so. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Cabot were very much in love."
"Hmm," Sandy bit the side of her cheek. Suddenly, she pushed forward in her chair. "Hey, you know, I think I have some old newspapers that you may be interested in. We have the local paper from the year that Monetary Committee met...the same year that Gloria Cromwell died."
Jennifer's pulse quickened: At last, she would have some hard facts. "That would be wonderful," she said excitedly.
Sandy took her keys and opened an antique filing cabinet that sat in a corner of the office. She rummaged through several folders while Jennifer held her breath waiting. "Aha," Sandy finally exclaimed, as Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief.
"Here you go," Sandy said, handing her a yellowed copy of the White Mountain Gazette. The headlines read MONETARY COMMITTEE HOLDS HISTORIC MEETING AT WALLINGFORD HOTEL. Jennifer quickly scanned the pages, searching for mention of Gloria Cromwell. Disheartened, she folded the newspaper in her lap. "Nothing," she said. "Do you know if she died before or after that meeting?"
"After, I believe...hold on, let me look through some of these papers," Sandy offered. Suddenly, her face brightened. "Here it is!" she said, handing it to Jennifer.
Jennifer found the article on the second page. The Monetary Committee news still monopolized the front page headlines. Jennifer read aloud:
WEALTHY VACATIONER FOUND STABBED
Bretton Woods - Thirty-two year old Gloria Cromwell, daughter of the late Milton and Audrey Cromwell, was found stabbed to death on a secluded section of the White Mountains near Carter's Ridge yesterday. A New York native, Miss Cromwell was a summer resident of the Wallingford Hotel for the past three years.
Miss Cromwell had been heiress to her parents' fortune in oil and spent a considerable amount of that wealth in protecting wildlife. During her time spent in New Hampshire, she established the White Mountain Forest Preservation Council and served on the board of the New Hampshire Fish & Game Society.
Details remain unclear as to the circumstances surrounding Miss Cromwell's death. Her body was found with stab wounds to the chest and hands. Several hotel employees had noted her despondency during the past several weeks. Ike Hollis, the New Hampshire State Coroner, has ruled Miss Cromwell's untimely death a suicide. Burial arrangements will be made at the discretion of her estate.
Jennifer's eyes slowly rose from the page to meet Sandy's quizzical expression.
"She didn't kill herself." Jennifer said, almost whispering. She looked down at her hands, and then stared, transfixed, through the open office door.
Finally, Sandy broke the silence. "She didn't?"
Jennifer looked at her directly. "She wouldn't have stabbed her hands if she wanted to kill herself...The chest wounds, I suppose, could be consistent with a suicide...but don't you see...her hands were stabbed while she was trying to protect herself," Jennifer said, holding her hands up in front of her face.
Sandy's eyes widened. "You're right...why didn't they catch that before?"
"From what I hear, the coroner was no medical expert. Besides, with all the press from the Monetary Committee, they may have decided to keep the case quiet...or it simply got overlooked."
Jennifer looked down and wrung her hands in her lap, thinking about the horror that Gloria Cromwell must have felt on that mountainside. The image of Gloria crying "My hands! My hands!" flashed through her mind again. Sandy noticed Jennifer's pained expression. "That's too bad," was all Sandy could think of to say.
Jennifer nodded. "Sandy, do you or Cole know any of the employees at the Wallingford?" she asked.
"Well, sure we know a lot of them. It's a small town, Jennifer," she smiled. "In fact, Cole knows Katherine Belleveau - the owner - very well."
"He does?"
"Sure. Cole and Katherine went to high school together in Massachusetts."
"Tell me, Sandy, has Katherine ever been married?"
"Oh, yes, twice," Sandy chuckled. "Katherine has quite a history of...what's the term...ah, gold-digging? I mean, she's got an eye for rich men. How do you think she got all her money to buy the Wallingford?...You better watch out for Jonathan," she joked. Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "Uh oh," Sandy smirked, "She's been up to her old ways, huh? I don't think you have anything to worry about, Jennifer. It's so obvious that Jonathan's in love with you."
"I'm not worried, I'm just appalled at her behavior," Jennifer said.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Sandy said, looking down. "Sometimes I think she's got some kind of hold over Cole - not that they're lovers - Cole doesn't have enough money to satisfy her. Still, whenever Katherine needs something, he drops everything...and he defends her no matter what."
Suddenly, they heard the familiar jingle of the shop door opening.
"Hello!" Jonathan called out. Jennifer smiled. "In here, darling!" Sandy leaned out of the office door and motioned for him to come to the back office.
"You weren't gone for long," Jennifer said.
"No, actually, I was headed back to the hotel when George called me on the car phone. Carol is awake. She came out of the coma, so I swung by the hospital to see her briefly. George and the boys are just ecstatic," he grinned broadly.
"That's wonderful," Jennifer said. "Can we go back to visit her?"
"Well, she's resting again. I told them we'd come back tomorrow," Jonathan said, resting his hands on Jennifer's shoulders and rubbing his thumbs back and forth. Sandy smiled ruefully, watching Jonathan's gentle ways with his wife.
"Can I bother you two for a favor?" Sandy asked. "It looks like Cole is running late, and I need to get back to the house and take the dogs out. Would you mind giving me a lift? We only live two miles down the road."
"Sure," Jonathan answered.
Jonathan drove up the winding, wooded driveway to the Jackson's home. It was a huge, cedar home that boasted a wraparound porch overlooking the mountains.
"What a spectacular home, Sandy," Jennifer remarked, intrigued by its unusual layout and contemporary design.
"Won't you come in? I'll show you around. Cole actually built this home for us," Sandy said. Jonathan and Jennifer nodded enthusiastically.
Sandy opened the door to the garage and ushered the Harts in. "No locks, huh?" Jonathan asked.
"Oh, no, not up here," Sandy laughed. "Besides, our dogs would scare off any intruders."
As they ascended the staircase to the upper level, the heavy scent of cedar pine followed them. Entering the main room, the Harts were awestruck by its magnificence. Wooden sculptures in various stages of creation stood begging to be completed. The cathedral ceiling rose dramatically adding to the room's immensity. A fifty-foot expanse of window flooded the room with bright light and gave it an almost ethereal glow.
"Wow...I don't know what to say," Jennifer exclaimed. The dogs began barking at the sound of Jennifer's voice.
"This is Cole's workspace really," Sandy offered. "Feel free to look around. I'm just going to let the dogs out for a minute," she said leaving the room.
Jonathan and Jennifer slowly stepped forward and looked around. Jonathan walked over to one of Cole's sculptures. "Look at this, darling," he said, pointing to a particular work in progress. It was a man covering his face, his knotted, scarred fingers clenching something - something that had not quite taken shape.
Jennifer sighed heavily. "He certainly is a gifted sculptor...such emotion." Jonathan nodded. They continued looking at the various pieces. Sandy came back into the room, smiling proudly. She could tell that the Harts were impressed. "They're something, aren't they? I only wish Cole would finish them. Just when he gets to a certain point in the work, he stops and begins another one."
"Has he always sculpted?" Jennifer asked.
"I think he's always been artistic, but it wasn't until after the war that he started sculpting. He served in Vietnam...he was on the front line," Sandy said, her expression growing sad. "He's not the same. Not that anyone was after that war. He has medication for the flashbacks and nightmares. It helps, but I think sculpting helps him really work through the pain."
"You really love him, don't you?" Jennifer said, smiling.
Sandy's eyes became moist and she nodded.
"Sandy, how is it that you and Cole can have such an open marriage? Doesn't it just complicate things for you?" Jennifer asked candidly. Jonathan began to meander through the sculptures, preferring not to partake in the conversation at hand. He walked up to the picture window to appreciate the view.
Sandy thought for a moment. "We're not a traditional couple, Jennifer. We enjoy meeting other people... experimenting. Cole and I are secure in our relationship."
"Oh," Jennifer responded, not fully understanding.
"I suppose there are all kinds of relationships - what may work for you, wouldn't work for me and vice versa," Sandy said.
Jennifer smiled. "I suppose you're right," she said, meaning it. They walked up to meet Jonathan at the window.
"I didn't realize what an incredible view you have here. Isn't that Carter's Ridge over there?" Jonathan said, pointing east.
"Yes, it is. We have a great view of the entire area," she answered. "Hey, if you really want a great view, you should have Cole take you on a plane ride around the mountain. He's a pilot and has a twin-engine over at the airfield in Tisdale. I'm sure he'd take you. He loves showing off the mountain and trails. He knows them like the back of his hand," she mused.
"Are you talking about me?" Cole called out, coming up the stairway. The Harts and Sandy turned.
"Hi hon," Sandy said, pleased to see him. "The Harts gave me a lift so I could let the dogs out. Where've you been?"
Cole stuck his hands into his jean pockets. "Oh, uh...I helped deliver some cordwood to Miss Ellie. With the cold weather coming, she's going to need plenty to keep her place warm."
"He's always doing nice stuff like that," Sandy said to the Harts. "Hey, Cole, I was just saying to the Harts that you could take them for a plane ride. You know, give them an aerial tour of the area?"
Cole gulped hard. He wondered if his wife could actually read his mind. He hadn't planned on Sandy leading the Harts right into his hands. Still, despite his relief at her suggestion, he was filled with dread at the mission before him. "Yeah, sure. Would you like me to give you a tour? How about tomorrow?"
Jennifer and Jonathan exchanged glances and then agreed.
"I'll pick you up at the hotel tomorrow morning then," Cole said, biting the inside of his cheek.
