“You’re referring to his visits to the Green Light,” Frank said softly.
She flushed. “Then the rumors are true?”
He contemplated her, probably trying to decide what to reveal. “It’s not my place to discuss his … proclivities. If you want answers, ask Mona.”
“I have a right to know.”
He hesitated. “You’re right, you do. But I’ll not be the one to tell you, and if I had my way, I’d make certain you never found out the details.”
She wanted to push him, but she could tell by his expression it would do no good. She sighed. “Then I will be in touch. I’ll request the documentation you mentioned first thing in the morning.”
“Very well.” Frank stood, his gaze warm, yet worried. “Most women wouldn’t even consider taking this on.”
She shrugged. “You may have been right all along—I may not have any clue about the man I married,” she admitted. “But I’m determined to find out.”
“If Clive Johnson is complicit in what we have discovered today, he won’t change his ways without a fight. And the fact that you’re a woman won’t even give him pause.”
“I refuse to be afraid of him,” she said, her chin lifting. “I own the company, and I will have control.”
Frank walked to the door, then turned to quietly study her one last time. She had the oddest feeling he wanted to say something of a personal nature, but he said instead, “I’ll expect to hear from you.”
With a nod, he walked out as he had come, through the kitchen.
* * *
HATTIE scarcely had time to tidy Charles’s desk and return files to drawers before she heard a knock on the front door. Her immediate thought was one of concern that whoever was calling might see Frank Lewis leaving and wonder at the reason for his visit. Then she chastised herself—she had been the one to insist that he not worry about such issues. Her business with him was legitimate, and she wouldn’t ask him to skulk around. Even in light of Frank’s concern over the risk she was taking, she’d be damned if she’d worry that someone would spy on the two of them and inform Clive Johnson.
Rising, she walked around the desk just as Sara received Chief Greeley in the front hallway, Charlotte on his arm. Tabitha trailed a few steps behind, looking anxious. Hattie’s brow knit—what had they been doing outside?
Charlotte’s cheeks were flushed as she laughed up at the police chief, her young love written across her face for all to see. He leaned down and murmured something to her, his manner slightly cocky, and she blushed.
“Miss Charlotte!” Sara rushed to take the girls’ capes and gloves. “Where have you been?”
“Out, Sara,” Charlotte answered gaily, waving a hand. “It’s a beautiful day!”
Hattie moved forward, stopping at the library doors. “Chief Greeley,” she said, nodding coolly. “Charlotte, please explain yourself. You and Tabitha were supposed to be in the parlor, working on dress designs.”
Charlotte hesitated, showing the first signs that she might have done something wrong, then she tossed her head, her gaze defiant. “As I believe I indicated this morning, Hattie,” she said, her tone artificially mature, “today was perfect weather for an outing to Fuller’s. Tabitha and I were enjoying a delicious raspberry ice when Chief Greeley stopped by.” She leaned into the police chief’s side, her hand still on his arm. “We had a wonderfully pleasant time, wouldn’t you agree, John?”
Greeley smiled down at her indulgently, though his gaze, when he looked at Hattie, was censorious.
Hattie sighed inwardly. “Sara, please take Charlotte into the parlor to wait for me there while I talk to Chief Greeley.” She turned her gaze back to Tabitha. “Go with Sara, Tabitha.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tabitha said, shooting a sulky look at Charlotte.
Hattie had no doubt Charlotte had pushed Tabitha into agreeing to the outing. She leveled a hard look at Charlotte. “And you and I will discuss your rebellious behavior in a moment.”
“But—”
“Now, young lady.”
Charlotte blanched at being chastised in front of the police chief. Her eyes filling with tears, she whirled and stormed across the hall.
Hattie motioned Greeley to follow her into the library. “I’m not in the habit of allowing the girls to go out without a chaperone, if that is what you were about to comment on, Chief Greeley,” she said once they stood before the fireplace. “Charlotte left the house without my knowledge and permission, after I expressly forbade her this morning to do so.”
“Be that as it may, Mrs. Longren,” Greeley said, slapping his gloves against his pant leg, “you clearly weren’t attentive enough. You should consider yourself extremely lucky that I happened by Fuller’s establishment and noticed Charlotte at one of the tables by the front window. Though I didn’t go so far as to reprimand Charlotte publicly, I can’t condone such licentious behavior in the girl I intend to marry.”
Hattie would’ve considered herself far luckier if he hadn’t happened by, but she refrained from saying so. “Rest assured I will be punishing Charlotte for disobeying my orders, as well as questioning the household staff as to how this could have happened.”
Greeley rocked back on his heels, his eyebrows arched. “Charlotte merely needs a firm hand, Mrs. Longren. I would point out that this type of behavior—as well as the obviously lax supervision in your household—argues in favor of a brief courtship. I trust you’ve thought over my request and have agreed to my suit?”
“On the contrary, Chief Greeley,” Hattie said, grinding her teeth. “I said I would give you an answer by the end of the week, and I plan to stick to that schedule. I have far too many concerns about a possible liaison between you and my sister to make such a decision in haste. Today’s lapse in judgment, though deserving of disciplinary action, does not rise to a level that would justify a precipitous decision. Our parents had the faith to leave Charlotte in my hands. I owe it to them to consider carefully any possible change in that guardianship that might be against their express wishes.”
Greeley’s expression had hardened as she spoke. “Charlotte’s presence at Fuller’s, whether or not accompanied by her friend, was reckless and inappropriate. I must warn you that I won’t be interested in ‘soiled goods.’” Greeley pulled on his gloves. “I’ll be back at the end of the week, Mrs. Longren. In the meantime, see that you keep Charlotte’s girlish impulses properly in check.”
Hattie didn’t reply, gripping the edge of the desk so hard she felt a fingernail break.
Once Greeley was out the door, she took a moment to rein in her temper, as well as to congratulate herself for not having given in to the urge to hurl Charles’s paperweight at Greeley’s retreating back.
Chapter 8
TRUE to her promise, Jordan forced herself to stop reading an hour later and locked up, driving straight from the Historical Society to All That Jazz. On the way out the door, she’d added to her growing list of transgressions by filching several memoirs for her bedtime reading. To her way of thinking, it was better to steal what she needed now, rather than repeatedly sneak back into the building.
Of course, career burglars probably made similar rationalizations.
She did have another reason for taking the books, but she wasn’t yet willing to admit it, even to herself. After all, no sane, normal person would acknowledge that she now felt compelled to solve a century-old murder for a resident ghost. Right?