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Authors: Jean Nash

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BOOK: The Sea Star
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“Jay, whoever sent that cigarette case is the one who murdered Teddy.”

     
“I know that, Susanna. I’ve been trying to convince the police of that, but it’s so much easier for them to detain me, no matter how flimsy the evidence, than it is to go looking for a needle in a haystack.”

     
“Don’t worry,” Susanna said. “I’ll get you out of here.”

     
Jay’s hard mouth relaxed. He reached across the table to take her hand. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

     
His smile, though grave, lifted her spirits. As bad as the situation looked, it wasn’t hopeless. Nothing was hopeless when love and determination were on one’s side. Jay had done so much for her. He had changed and enhanced her life. Now, at last, was her chance to repay him. She would find a way to exonerate him if it was the last thing she ever did.

 

     
When Susanna left the courthouse, she asked Preston Stedman to take her to the Fenway, where Ian Carmichael awaited her in his suite.

     
“Pres told me you were coming to Boston,” Ian said, ushering them both into the sitting room. “Are you hungry? Shall I order something?”

     
“Thank you, no, Ian.”

     
He took their hats and coats and bade them sit. There was a good fire in the grate, for which Susanna was thankful. She was so dreadfully chilled. She felt she’d never be warm again as long as she lived.

     
“Ian, do you realize,” she said straight out, “that the person who sent the cigarette case to the police must be the one who murdered Teddy?”

     
“Very probably,” he said. “However, knowing something and proving it are two different matters.”

     
“We’ll have to prove it somehow,” she said, undeterred. “The longer the police have Jay in custody, the more time the murderer has to either get away or plant new false evidence.”

     
“I agree,” Ian said. “That’s why I’ve asked the police to learn where the cigarette case was sent from. The postmark was smudged, so they’ve turned the wrapping over to the postal authorities in hopes they can help.”

     
“That’s a good start, Ian, but we have to do more. Can’t we have Jay released on bail?”

     
“More
is
being done,” he assured her. “I’ve hired private investigators to look into the matter as far back as when Alan Devlin was managing the Majestic. Bail is out of the question, though. We’re dealing with a capital offense here. Jay will have to remain in custody for the time being.”

     
“But there has to be something more that can be done,” Susanna said, frustrated. “Have you contacted Ford Weston? He knew Teddy. There may be something he remembers.”

     
Ian shook his head. “I’ve already spoken to Jay about consulting Ford. He said no. He was adamant.”

     
Susanna shivered. Was there no way out of this nightmare?

     
Ian said encouragingly, “Susanna, there’s nothing more we can do at present. Let’s wait until we hear from the postal authorities. Maybe they’ll be able to shed some light on the case.”

     
Disappointed at the options, Susanna nodded. Suppose, she thought, the package was postmarked “
New York
”? The population of that city was approximately four and a half million. Out of all those people, how in the world were the police going to find who was trying to destroy Jay?

 

     
It was impossible for her to sleep that night. The strange bed, the memory of Jay’s bitterness, the fear of failure, all conspired to keep Susanna awake almost the entire night through. She finally fell asleep at dawn, a deep drugged-like sleep, from which she didn’t waken until noon.

     
She’d been dreaming of gold—brilliant yellow gold. She woke with a start and opened her eyes to a shaft of blinding sunlight.

     
She rose with a groan, then went into the lavatory and splashed cold water on her face. As she toweled dry, the memory of her dream, vague and indefinite, floated hazily through her mind. What had she been dreaming about? Gold, gleaming gold. She saw curlicues, tracery, but nothing substantial. She did remember, though, that there had been something pleasant about the dream, a sharing—no, a giving. She felt the touch of Jay’s hand, saw a smile on his face. And then, she thought with a fast-beating heart,
The cigarette case I gave him for Christmas!

     
She dashed into the bedroom, dressed with the speed of lightning, and went hurtling out of the suite. On the stairs, she collided with Ian Carmichael.

     
“Ian!” she said. “Did the police show you the cigarette case?”

     
“Yes,” he said. “Susanna, I have something to tell you.”

     
“No, wait,” she said. “What does the case look like?”

     
Ian described the cigarette case Susanna had given Jay down to the last detail, including the quotation from Mrs. Browning.

     
“Oh, Ian!” she said happily. “Jay can go free now.”

     
“What are you talking about?”

     
“When was Teddy murdered?”

     
“I’m not sure. Some time last year, wasn’t it?”

     
“Yes!” she said. “It was shortly after I was married. I remember so clearly now. Oh, why didn’t I think of it sooner? Don’t you see what this means, Ian? I gave Jay that case this past Christmas. He didn’t own it until months after Teddy died. All the police have to do is check with Tiffany and Company to prove when it was purchased, and Jay won’t have to spend another night in that dreadful basement.”

     
Ian seemed reluctant to believe that so important a detail had escaped his notice. “Susanna, are you sure about when you gave it to him? Why didn’t Jay say anything about it?”

     
“I don’t know and I don’t care. We must go to the police and tell them at once.”

     
She started down the stairs, but Ian caught her arm. “Susanna, wait. Before we go, I want to tell you something.”

     
“What is it?” she said, eager to be off. “Hurry, Ian.”

     
“I’ve just come from the police station. The postal authorities were able to make out the postmark.”

     
“Well?” she said impatiently. “Where did the package come from?”

     
“It came from
Atlantic City
. Have you any idea who sent it?”

     
Susanna’s eyes widened. She had a fairly good idea who had sent the damning evidence, but she was too shocked, too horrified, to answer the question.

 

Twenty

     
Securing Jay’s release was easier than Susanna had thought it would be. Once the police had verified with Tiffany & Company that the cigarette case had been purchased in November, they promptly released Jay. Before Susanna knew it, she was back in her suite at the Fenway, holding tightly to her husband’s hand and thinking incessantly, despairingly, about her treacherous brother.

     
How could he have done such a thing? Had he no integrity, no sense of honor? This wasn’t a childish indiscretion, or even an adult case of larceny. What
Dallas
had done to Jay was tantamount to murder.

     
Murder.

     
Had
Dallas
murdered Teddy, then? Had he been in on the embezzlement scheme, as Susanna had once accused him? No, no, no. Planting false evidence was one thing. Taking a man’s life, actually putting one’s hands about another’s throat and choking the breath from his body was another matter entirely.

     
“What are you thinking about?” Jay’s voice startled her. “You’ve been staring out that window for the past quarter hour.”

     
They were seated together on the window seat. Susanna’s hand, gripped tightly in Jay’s, felt numb and achy, but she did not withdraw it. She’d almost lost him. She
had
to hold him, to feel his presence, to know without doubt that nothing would ever separate them again.

     
She pressed his hand to her cheek. “I wasn’t thinking of anything. I’m just so enormously relieved that this nightmare is over and that we’re together again.”

     
Jay watched her with eyes that were still weary from his ordeal, though nonetheless perceptive. “There’s nothing else on your mind? If there is, I wish you’d tell me. I’ve done a lot of thinking this past week.”

     
“About what, Jay?”

     
“Mostly about you, about us, our relationship. And about the quarrel we had when I last saw you. It’s been—”

     
“Jay, don’t think of that anymore. I was wrong. I knew how horribly wrong I was when I thought I would lose you.”

     
“Those were my thoughts, too,” he said quietly, “except I was the one who was wrong. How glibly I talked of leaving you, of ending our marriage. As soon as I left
Atlantic City
, I realized that you mean more to me than anything in the world, that I’d rather lose everything I own a hundred times over than ever lose you.”

     
“Oh, Jay!” With a sob, she wound her arms around his neck. The tears that had been so perilously close to the surface for days spilled unchecked now that the danger of losing him was past. “That’s the way I’ve always felt. And I was so horrid to you that night. I nagged you and doubted you. I give you my promise I’ll never do either again.”

     
“Susanna, don’t.” He took her face in his hands and kissed away her tears. “Don’t blame yourself for my insensitivity. I haven’t been any kind of a husband to you, but that’s going to change now. Before I came to
Boston
, I spent some time in
New York
. I found a townhouse for us on
Fifth Avenue
. I know you’ll like it. And when we return to
Atlantic City
, we’ll look for a lot, perhaps on Absecon Inlet, and then we’ll talk to an architect, who’ll design for us the finest, largest, most beautiful house in all
Atlantic
County
.”

     
More tears blurred Susanna’s eyes. Oh, how good he was! And Dallas, her dishonorable brother, was responsible for nearly destroying his life.

     
She moved back in his embrace and put her hands on his arms. “Jay, there’s something I must tell you. I know who sent the cigarette case to the police.”

     
“You know?” His tone was odd, astonished.

     
“Yes. It was Dallas.”

     
“Dallas?” He laughed softly. “No it wasn’t, Susanna. Good Lord, is that what’s bothering you? How long have you been torturing yourself with that notion?”

     
“Jay, he
was
the one who sent it, I’m sure of it. The package had an Atlantic City postmark. No one else there had a motive for wanting to hurt you.”

     
“What motive does Dallas have?” he asked sensibly. “Why would he want to kill the goose that lays the golden egg?”

     
“Because he’s never liked you, Jay. He never wanted us to marry. And every time he took money from you, he resented it. Just before I came to Boston, we had another quarrel. He’s been borrowing money from me again. When I told him I couldn’t ask you for the money because...because I thought you were planning to divorce me, he said maybe it would be better if you did. Maybe it would be better if you were permanently out of the way.”

     
“Goddamn him,” Jay muttered. “The last time I gave him money, I warned him if he ever distressed you again with his shenanigans, he’d regret it.”

     
“Oh, don’t you see?” she said. “It was his way of getting back at you. This is all my fault. I should have—”

     
“Susanna, stop it!” Jay took her hands firmly in his. “Don’t torture yourself further on that score. Believe me when I tell you that
Dallas
didn’t send the cigarette case. He hasn’t backbone enough to do such a thing.”

     
“But he did! He must have.”

     
“He didn’t,” Jay said strongly. “I know who sent the case to the police.”

     
“You know?” She stared at him, baffled. “Who was it?”

     
“Ford Weston.”

     
“Ford?” she echoed incredulously. “Jay, you’re wrong. Ford couldn’t have—”

     
“Ford could have and did, Susanna. I’ve known for some time now that he probably masterminded the embezzlement scheme. Alan double-dealt Ford and disappeared with the money, but Ford found him out and did away with him. Ford then must have discovered that Teddy had the money, and again he had to kill. Since I appeared to have a motive for murdering both men, Ford settled his score with me by planting the false evidence.”

     
“But why?” It was not to be believed. Not Ford, who had been so loving to both Susanna and her mother. “What possible reason could he have for wanting to destroy you?”

     
“It’s because of his brother,” Jay said. “Ford’s paying me back for something I did to
Bob
by.”

     
“Jay, that can’t be. Ford told me all about
Bob
by and you. He said he bore you no ill will.”

     
“What else could he have said, Susanna? Did you expect him to tell you that he had nursed this grudge for years, that he waited and planned to get back at me?”

     
“It can’t be,” she said again, but it was herself she was trying to convince. And then, an appalling thought struck her. “Jay, my mother had nothing to do with this, did she?”

     
“I don’t know, Susanna.”

     
“No,” she said faintly and covered her face with her hands. “I couldn’t bear it if she did.”

     
Jay’s arms went around her. She felt his lips brush her brow, then her cheek, then her quivering lips. “Forget about them.” His voice was rough with emotion. “Forget this entire revolting episode. Ford failed. We’re together now.”

     
He kissed her then, passionately, as if to blot out the dreadful images that kept passing through her mind. Half of her responded to him, half of her was numb. When he took her to bed and made swift urgent love to her, she wanted to sing for her rapture, she wanted to weep for the sorrow that lay heavy on her heart.

 

     
Forgetting about the man who bore Jay such malice was easier said than done. When they returned to Atlantic City, Susanna had some respite from her torturous thoughts. Courtney and Jay were of prime importance to her now. Let the rest of the world rot. Her husband and son were all that mattered.

     
Jay, it appeared, was none the worse for his ordeal. He worked daily at the Excelsior, as if his routine had never been interrupted by such a devastating event. He played with his son and proclaimed to anyone who would listen that no child on Earth was more intelligent than he. Susanna, watching them, would think fondly that a more doting father than Jay had never walked the earth. The time spent with her family was doubly precious to her now. She couldn’t stop thinking how different things might have been if Ford had succeeded with his plan.

     
She asked Jay once if he had told the
Boston
police of his suspicions about Ford. Jay said no, he had no hard evidence to present to them.

     
“Will he just get away with murdering Alan and Teddy, then?”

     
“On no account,” Jay said grimly. “I’m going to see to it that he doesn’t.”

     
“What will you do?” Susanna asked at once, for Jay’s deadly rages were cause for alarm.

     
He sensed her apprehension. His grim look vanished. He patted her hand. “Nothing unlawful. I give you my word.”

     
The sincerity of his tone did little to comfort Susanna. Jay was not a man who let wrongs go unavenged.

 

     
Dallas
, thank heaven, was on his best behavior during this period. Susanna suspected that Jay had paid off his current debts, but she didn’t ask him about it, nor did he say he had done so. She went out of her way to be loving to
Dallas
. She sorely regretted having thought, even for a moment, that he had sent the cigarette case to the police. She should have had the good sense to realize that her brother, her flesh and blood, would never have done such a thing.

     
And yet, had her mother had a hand in Ford’s crimes? Augusta had written Susanna, expressing her horror at Jay’s arrest and her subsequent relief when he was released. “I wish we could get together,” Augusta had written, “and so does Ford. But at the moment it’s quite impossible.”

     
Susanna wondered why it was impossible. Was Augusta ashamed to face her? If she hadn’t actively participated in Ford’s schemes, had she just stood by, in tacit approval of his crimes?

     
Oh, she had to stop thinking of that, she had to! Let the authorities deal with it. Jay was free now, safe. They were truly a family, as Susanna had always wished. Jay had purchased a lot on Absecon Inlet. Construction on their new house would begin in the spring. All his hotels were flourishing. He seemed happier than he ever had. There was no longer any reason for Susanna to worry.

 

     
Courtney’s first Christmas was an especially festive time. In the large sitting room of the Grainger suite at the Excelsior, a fragrant pine tree was decorated with toy soldiers, silver snow flakes, and pudgy Santas with cheery painted faces. On the Adam-inspired mantel, holly wreaths were draped, along with a red velvet stocking Susanna had made, ready to be filled with goodies when Saint Nicholas arrived.

     
Jay, it appeared, had bought his son every toy sold in Atlantic City, not counting those he had ordered from New York. Susanna had made several extravagant purchases of her own, including a miniature railway, tiny ice skates, a tricycle with a bell, and a beautiful hobby horse decorated as ornately as a prancing carrousel horse. She’d been able to buy so much because she’d joined a saving plan at the beginning of the year. The “Christmas Club,” as it was called, had been established by Byron Sharp, a shipping clerk from Philadelphia, who spent all his summer vacations at the Sea Star.

     
Jay commended her on her foresight. “What a treasure you are, Susanna! If I ever go broke, I’ll have my wise, wealthy wife to come to my aid.”

     
“I forbid you to go broke,” she said tartly, “although you’ve probably come close to it this Christmas.”

     
He smiled and pinched her cheek, as Nina the nursemaid entered the room holding Courtney in her arms. They were followed by the cat, who was now full grown and patently aware of her graceful snow-white beauty.

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