Lights Out at the Lighthouse Read online

  Henrietta moved from the fireplace to the wall of books and then the comfy chair, a small but messy desk, and then an old, weathered trunk under the window. Nothing else stuck out to her, but she finally turned to face Amelia.

  “What is it that you found?” she asked, noting that Amelia had been quiet, as if she too had been lost in contemplation about the small space.

  “Well, it’s honestly a little odd for me to have found these.” She went to the trunk, tugged up the lid, and pulled out an old photo box with worn edges.

  Henrietta wondered if the woman had found images, but when she opened the lid, she saw that the box was filled with papers.

  “Letters,” Amelia clarified, as if reading Henrietta’s thoughts. “To my father. From a woman.”

  “A…woman?”

  “My mother died when I was five. I don’t even really remember her, at least not well, but I know that my father never dated—at least that I knew of when I was younger—and as I got older, I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell. But I think I would have known if he were dating someone, you know?”

  “What is the content of these letters, then?”

  “I haven’t been able to go through them all. In fact, I only read a few of them and it was…too hard at this point. I wanted to give them to you to look over, though. They could be a clue.”

  Henrietta accepted the box and rifled through the letters. She picked one out and opened it. “Do you know anyone named…” She looked over the letter to the end. “Dee?”

  “No. Not at all. I mean, some of the letters certainly made it sound as if they were…involved. But like I said, I never saw my father go on a date or anything like that.”

  Henrietta tucked this information in the back of her mind, nodding slowly. “I’ll look into these and see if I can’t figure out if they are relevant to the investigation.”

  “Thank you. If I find anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  Henrietta nodded then looked at her phone for the time. “Would you mind if I stayed a little longer? I asked Ralph to meet me here to look around, if you don’t mind, of course.”

  “That’s completely fine. I’m actually heading off to work, but you can stay as long as you like. Just lock up when you’re done.”

  “Will do.”

  Amelia smiled her thanks and left, leaving the door unlocked as she went.

  Henrietta circled the small, moon-shaped room again. Everything was tidy, even in some of its clutter. It looked like a place that belonged to someone who knew exactly where everything was, even if it didn’t look that way.

  She walked closer to the bookshelves and began looking through them, but her mind continued to be pulled back to the letters. She was certain her best efforts would be to go through them methodically, taking notes and making mental images of them all, but in this space—the connection to Gerald felt even more real, and she wanted to look at them right then.

  She sat in a large leather armchair and put the box on her lap. She shuffled through the letters and realized they went from oldest at the bottom, to newest at the top. Had he added the letters as they arrived?

  No envelopes accompanied the letters, so it was impossible to tell where they had been sent from or even the date. But inside she found that the sender had dated each letter, just as she had signed them all the same:

  Always love, Dee.

  The first letter had just caught her attention when the front door swung in. She jerked up and took in a gasping breath when she saw Ralph standing in the doorway, shrouded by a hooded parka.

  “You could have called out,” she said, a hand to her pounding heart.

  “Hello,” he said in mock loudness.

  She shot him a less-than-amused look and went back to the letter for a moment before looking back up at Ralph. “I think Gerald had a lover.”

  “Um, really?”

  “Yes, but I’ll have to read the rest of these,” she held up the box, “before I know exactly how that relationship worked.”

  “Do you have a few more minutes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s go walk through a murder.”

  Thankfully, the door to the other side of the lighthouse was open and they went inside. When Amelia had said they needed to lock up, Henrietta hadn’t known she meant to lock up the whole lighthouse, but she was glad to know they had the access they needed.

  “It’s not going to be pretty,” Ralph said to Henrietta.

  “I expected not.” When they stepped into the space, she immediately saw the area where the crime must have happened. It was cleaned, but the stains remained. Poor Amelia, Henrietta thought. She’d had to work with this in sight the whole time. She was a strong woman.

  Ralph walked over to the site, nodding his head. “Yep, this is what I expected.”

  “Wait a minute,” Henrietta said, her eyes narrowing as she took in her friend’s calculated expression. “How do you know what happened?”

  Ralph reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope as his grin widened. “Oh, just this.”

  “And what is that?” She paced toward him.

  “The case file for Gerald Folsom.”

  “Ralph,” she scolded, “you’re not supposed to have that.”

  “Eh, well it is a closed case.”

  “I’m sure you’re still not supposed to have it.”

  “I live by the motto ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Still, aren’t you curious?”

  She hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”

  Ralph opened the file and began to walk through everything that they’d written down. “It looks like he was kneeling here.” He indicated the point on the ground and knelt as the report indicated. “And he apparently pulled the trigger in this way.” He demonstrated that as well, and Henrietta shuddered. It was not pleasant thinking about this, and she wished she could focus more on the who than the how—but one came from the other, so she recognized the importance of seeing it through.

  When Ralph pulled out his gun to give a real-life example to what had happened, she forced him to stop.

  “No, please put it away.”

  “But Henri, I—”

  “Please, Ralph, it’s just…” She trailed off, and her head tilted to the side in thought.

  “I mean I understand, but—”

  “Ralph.” The insistence in her tone made him look up at her from where he was strapping his sidearm into his shoulder holster.

  “What?”

  “Take it out again.”

  “You’re kidding,” he said, almost rolling his eyes. “First you tell me to put it away, and now you want it out again? Which is it?”

  She came forward. “It’s unloaded, right?”

  “No, but the safety is on.”

  “Hum.” Frowning, she shook her head. “Okay, leave it there but hold your hand up as if you were about to pull the trigger.”

  He narrowed his eyes but did as she asked. As she watched him, a lightbulb came on.

  “He didn’t kill himself, and I’m certain we can prove it.”

  Ralph’s eyes widened. “And just how are you going to do that?”

  “Dr. Mays.” She had a feeling her eyes were practically sparkling at this revelation, but Ralph waited respectfully for her to explain. “When I met with him yesterday, he said that Gerald was in excellent health.”

  “Right, you mentioned that.”

  “What I forgot to tell you is the fact that he was in excellent health except for one finger.”

  “Come again?”

  “His right pointer finger, to be exact.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I forget what it’s called, but Dr. Mays said that he was referring Gerald to someone to get it taken care of.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that Gerald was incapable of pulling the trigger.”

  “We’d have to ask Dr. Mays specifically, but I think tha
t’s exactly it. He couldn’t have killed himself with a gun like they said he did.”

  “Golly,” Ralph said, pushing to his feet. “That is some good sleuthing, Henrietta.

  “Thank you.”

  “But I don’t know if it’s enough.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Sure, we can have the Doc testify that he couldn’t have done it, but I still think there’s an argument to what someone can do when they are hyped up on adrenaline. You’d be surprised.”

  “You think he got so worked up he was able to pull the trigger, despite his physical incapability? Seems a little far-flung, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course it does,” he agreed, “but I’m thinking of that young detective and what he might argue. We need more. Those letters may be a good start. What do you think? Jilted lover? Got back at him for something?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll have to read through them to really know, but it doesn’t seem like he would keep the letters if that were the case,” she said.

  “Maybe he hadn’t gotten around to tossing them.”

  “Well,” she held up a finger and placed the box on the windowsill, looking for the newest letter. She assumed it was the one on top and pulled it out. Sure enough, it was dated just a week before Gerald’s death and was still signed the same as the others.

  She told Ralph as much, but he shook his head. “Nah, things can change in an instant. Maybe she came to see him and something happened.”

  “Still, to make it seem like suicide by…gun,” she swallowed, “doesn’t sound like something a former lover would do.”

  “You can’t be too sure on something like murder, Henrietta. I know it sounds cold, but people do surprising and awful things sometimes.”

  Henrietta sighed, knowing it was true. Still, perhaps it was the hint of the romantic in her heart, or just a hope she had, but she didn’t think that the author of the love letters was responsible for Gerald’s death.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ralph said, ushering her forward with a gentle hand on her back.

  They locked up both sets of doors and made their way back toward the small graveled parking lot. As they did, Ralph asked about the preparations of the dance hall. She wondered if it was to shake off some of the heaviness of the lighthouse, or just because he needed time to process what they’d learned about Gerald’s murder.

  Either way, she allowed the change and explained in detail what they were doing. He sounded interested for the most part and, when they reached her car, he looked almost as if he wanted to say something else.

  Before he could, she remembered a request. “You’re going to hate me, Ralph,” she said with a grimace.

  “What?” He looked up from where he’d been studying his key fob.

  “Any chance you could help us move an armoire tomorrow afternoon?”

  He chuckled. “Putting me to work, since I’m working you so hard?”

  “Something like that.” She smiled, knowing he’d say yes.

  “Fine. But I expect repayment of some kind.”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead closed his mouth and nodded at her. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Meet at the dance hall?” she called out after him.

  He waved a hand in understanding and she slid into her Mini Cooper. Her gaze traveled to the lighthouse, the back door completely invisible from this vantage point. She wondered, again, who had so cruelly killed Gerald and why they had made it look like a suicide. More than that, she now wondered why anyone would want to kill such a sweet and kind man.

  Hopefully, in time, she’d discover the answers to all of their questions.

  6

  “Do you really think we’ll have this done in time?” Olivia asked, her eyes moving around the large dance hall with some hesitation.

  “Of course,” Henrietta said, her smile genuine. “We’ll have this place looking wonderful and festive in a short time, trust me. People won’t know what happened.”

  “I hope that’s in a good way,” Olivia teased.

  Henrietta made a silly face, and they both went back out to Olivia’s SUV to take the next load of things in. While Henrietta’s Mini Copper was useful for town driving, it didn’t do so well transporting things. Thankfully, Olivia had volunteered to drive with Henrietta reimbursing her for gas, and they’d made several trips already.

  They brought in the last of the boxes, and Henrietta began to direct Olivia where to start while she took the next section. As they worked, Olivia put on a playlist from her phone, and the sounds of Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald played through the mostly open building.

  After a few hours, they took a break and came to sit in two metal chairs in the center of the room.

  “All right,” Olivia said, her gaze traveling over what they’d already done. “I can see your vision. I think it is going to look lovely. Not that I doubted you on that front, but it does seem like an awful lot of work to do while you’re working a case as well.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Rickey.”

  “Is the mayor giving you trouble again?”

  “I wouldn’t call it trouble,” Henrietta admitted, “but I would call it…worry. He’s called me three times since he saw me two nights ago after dinner.”

  “He does seem to be a bit jumpy about all of this. I saw him outside of Gina’s the other day, and he was pacing back and forth like a caged animal.”

  “I think he may have overextended himself putting on the dance this year, and now he’s worried about making the money back and making a profit.”

  “You think he’ll make it back?”

  “I do. The town of Hearts Grove comes together like you wouldn’t believe. Besides, it’s the perfect time of year to host a party. People want things to do, and this is the perfect thing for them. I’ve seen the advertisements all over town as well, and that will help draw a good crowd.”

  “That’s good.” They sat in silence, sipping from paper cups and a thermos of coffee Henrietta had packed for them.

  “How’s the case going?” Olivia asked, turning her attention back to Henrietta. “Did you find anything interesting in those letters?”

  “In fact, I did.” She took another sip from her cup. “It’s a little difficult to read through at times, I feel as if they are just so personal.” She thought of the sweet note she’d read the night before. “They are certainly love letters written from this woman—Dee—to Gerald. No other information is really known about her at this point, but she certainly cared a great deal for Gerald.”

  “Oh, that is so sweet. To think, a whole box full of love letters.”

  “Yes, sweet, but I’ve also found some, well…” She hesitated, unsure of how to put it. “Sad things as well.”

  “Sad? How so?”

  “They are love letters, but even starting from the very beginning, perhaps three or four letters in, Dee mentions her husband.”

  “Uh-oh.” Olivia’s eyes went round.

  “I had the same reaction, but it was more than that. I think that this man is—or was, it’s difficult to say—abusive or controlling, at the very least.”

  “Oh, that is terrible.”

  “I know. It’s heartbreaking to read at points. She mentions how Gerald has encouraged her to leave him, not even for himself so much as for her own safety, yet she remains loyal to ‘him,’ as she puts it in her letters.”

  “Oh, Henrietta, that’s awful.” Olivia’s eyes shone bright with unshed tears. She had a sensitive heart that Henrietta appreciated. “It’s just terrible to think of her staying with someone who obviously doesn’t love her. Couldn’t she see? Couldn’t she understand that she’d be better off without him?”

  Henrietta bit her tongue. She wanted so desperately to point out to Olivia that she was in a similar situation, albeit not so bad thankfully, but she was with someone who didn’t love her as he should. And yet, she couldn’t seem to
see that.

  “Sometimes women don’t see the true reality of the relationships they are in.” She hoped that her subtlety wasn’t too clear to her employee and friend.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Olivia said. “It’s hard to see our own situations for what they are sometimes.”

  “Yes. And that is why it’s so important to have friends around us that we can trust. People we can turn to who’ll tell us the truth of the matter.” Henrietta hoped, even as she was saying it, that she could be that person for Olivia when the time was right.

  “I agree. I wonder if this Dee woman has anyone like that? Or do you think she’s not with her husband anymore? Then again, if she’d left him, wouldn’t she be with Gerald?”

  “You’d think that, which makes me assume she’s still with her husband.”

  “How sad. Do you think she knows anything about Gerald’s death?”

  “I don’t know,” Henrietta said. “I would hope that she would come forward if that were the case, but there’s no way to know and, since it’s been publicized as a suicide in the paper, she may think that there is no use. Or she may believe it.”

  “Wouldn’t she know? I mean, you have to assume if she were writing to Gerald, he’d be writing back to her.”

  “Perhaps, but there’s just no telling,” she said.

  They sat in silence for a few more minutes, and Henrietta weighed her responsibility as Olivia’s friend and mentor of sorts. Should she say something about Nelson and his manipulation of the young woman? Was it the time now, away from prying eyes or listening ears? Or was it perhaps not the time? Would Olivia come to Henrietta when she was ready to hear what she had to say?

  Landing on the reality that perhaps it was better to broach the subject now rather than wait for another time, Henrietta opened her mouth just as the side door opened.

  “Reporting for duty,” Ralph said, all smiles and happiness.