The Mulberry Tree

“Oh, I see. Miniskirts and go-go boots.”

Matt smiled. “My mother once told me that Violet had shocked everyone because she didn’t wear a hat or gloves.”

“That is shocking,” Bailey said, smiling. “Was your mother also shocked by her?”

“I think my mother rather liked Violet, although she never said one way or the other, but when I was a kid I saw the movie Bonnie and Clyde on TV, and when my mother saw I was watching it, she said, ‘That’s what Violet was wearing the first time I saw her.’ ”

“Right,” Bailey said. “One of those movies that sweeps the country with its fashions. So Violet came from California, wore the latest of the latest, and was married to one of the Golden Six.”

“Right. Burgess had bought the house that Violet lives in now years before, and they lived there until the lumberyard went bankrupt and Burgess was killed in a plane crash.” Matt grimaced. “A lot of people said he went down on purpose. I heard that he was never the same man after Frank’s death.”

“That’s what people said about Jimmie,” Bailey said under her breath, then her head came up. “ ‘Murders called suicide,’ ” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“Arleen—”

“You mean the woman you foisted on Janice? The woman who whenever I’ve asked you where you met her, you’ve run into another room rather than answer me? That Arleen?”

Bailey waved her hand in dismissal. “You want to pick a fight or listen?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Arleen said that one night years ago Jimmie said something about ‘murders called suicides.’ ”

“What exactly did she say?” Matt asked.

Bailey put her hand to her temples. “She said that Jimmie said that all his money couldn’t right some wrong that had happened when he was a kid. Arleen said that he said something about ‘murders called suicides.’ ”

Matt looked at her for a moment. “So how many suicides do we have now?” He held up his fingers to count them off. “Frank McCallum. Gus Venters. And Frederick Burgess.”

“You think one of them was a murder?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, “and I think that one of the murders has to do with James Manville and those two creeps who are selling everything off and converting it to cash.”

Bailey took a deep breath. “And you don’t think Phillip Waterman’s death was accidental, and you think that my life may be in danger.”

“Yes,” Matt said softly.

Twenty-five

It was three days later that Alex returned. During those three days, Matt neglected his designing job to search the Internet for information about Hilda Turnbull, Gus Venters, Lucas McCallum, Eva and Ralph Turnbull. He could find nothing.

Bailey was trying to give her attention to the Mulberry Tree Preserving Company, but she was having a difficult time of it. Violet and Arleen were still with Carol and her children. Violet had called Janice once to tell her that they were sorting out Phillip’s possessions, and that Carol was taking it all pretty hard. “We’ll be back when we can,” Violet had said, then hung up.

At dinner Matt told Bailey that he’d been unable to find anything about anyone, either on the Internet or in the town records. “It’s as though they never existed.”

“Been erased, more likely,” Bailey said as she served Matt swordfish with a sweet-and-sour sauce. “I’m sure Jimmie did it. I know his biographers looked long and hard to find out what they could about his early years but they couldn’t find anything.”

“But he couldn’t have erased everything everywhere,” Matt said in exasperation.

Bailey just gave him a raised-eyebrow look, as though to say, Think not?

With each day that passed, Matt was becoming more nervous, but he was trying to hide his worry from Bailey. What if she were recognized? What if Arleen or Carol made a slip and said something about Lillian Manville? Alex knew who Bailey was, and he was with Bailey’s sister. What if Alex told Bailey’s sister where Bailey was? What if Alex was as lowlife as his father, and the two of them plotted against Bailey?

By the time Alex returned, Matt thought his head might burst from the worry.

Matt was in bed beside Bailey, but unable to sleep. He’d had yet another frustrating day of finding out nothing. When he heard the low rumble of the motorcycle, he glanced at Bailey to see that she was sleeping soundly, then slipped out of bed and went outside.

Alex had turned off the bike and was removing his helmet.

“Where the hell have you been?” Matt snapped.