Chapter 3 - THE GOLDEN BIRD BEHIND THE CURTAIN
“Don't touch that curtain.”
Dashiell's command came so suddenly that Maddox jumped.
I immediately turned toward him.
“Lower your voice.”
The crime boss stared at me.
Then he saw his son's frightened expression.
He swallowed.
“I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to scare you.”
Maddox pressed against my side.
“Mommy said the bird was sleeping.”
Dashiell looked toward the cream-colored curtains.
Two years of dust lay along the window ledge, but everything else appeared carefully maintained.
That detail bothered me.
Someone had cleaned the room regularly while telling Maddox he was forbidden to enter.
“Which curtain?” I asked.
Maddox pointed to the left.
“The tall one.”
I moved toward the window, but Dashiell raised his hand.
“Rosalind. Please.”
I stopped.
He was looking at the curtain with an expression I couldn't read.
“What is it?”
“Evelyn used to stand there every morning.”
His voice softened.
“She'd open the curtains before breakfast. She said Maddox deserved to wake up with sunlight in the house.”
I looked toward the small boy holding his mother's photograph.
“Then let's find out what she wanted him to have.”
Dashiell approached the window himself.
He carefully loosened the brass curtain tieback.
Something small fell into his palm.
A golden swallow.
Its wings were spread, and a delicate chain hung from its neck.
The pendant had been wrapped inside a strip of blue silk.
Dashiell stared at it.
“This was her anniversary gift.”
Maddox stepped closer.
“Is it broken?”
“No, son.”
“Then Mommy wasn't sad?”
Dashiell looked at him.
“The necklace wasn't what made Mommy sad.”
The answer brought a tiny change to Maddox's face.
Hope.
It was heartbreaking to see how little he needed.
I examined the silk wrapping.
There was a small knot tied around the chain.
Tucked beneath it was a photograph, folded into four tiny squares.
The picture showed Evelyn sitting on a garden bench with Maddox in her lap.
He looked about three.
She was laughing.
Across the back, in flowing handwriting, were four words.
My beautiful, brave boy.
Maddox held out his hand.
“Mommy wrote that?”
Dashiell nodded.
“She did.”
“About me?”
“About you.”
Maddox smiled.
A small, uncertain smile.
Then he began crying.
Not loudly.
He simply folded against his father's chest, clutching the photograph.
Dashiell wrapped both arms around him.
For the first time since I'd entered that mansion, his son didn't pull away.
I stepped back to give them privacy.
That's when I noticed the second piece of paper inside the silk.
A narrow strip torn from a notebook.
The writing was smaller.
More hurried.
If anything happens, ask Daniel about the orchard account.
I read it twice.
“Dashiell?”
He looked up.
“Who is Daniel?”
His expression changed immediately.
“My brother.”
I glanced at the note.
“Your wife wanted someone to ask him about an account.”
Dashiell slowly stood.
“That's not possible.”
“Why?”
“Daniel told me he hadn't spoken to Evelyn for months before the accident.”
I handed him the paper.
He examined the handwriting.
Then his jaw tightened.
“That's hers.”
“Are you sure?”
“I watched her write birthday cards for ten years.”
Maddox reached toward the photograph.
“Can I keep Mommy?”
“Of course,” Dashiell said.
The boy carefully slipped it into his pocket.
We left Evelyn's room together.
Outside, Victor Hale was waiting.
He spoke quietly.
“Mrs. Vale is downstairs. She wants to know why her office access has been restricted.”
Dashiell handed him the jewelry receipt.
“Find out who authorized this repair.”
Victor studied it.
“Sir, there's something else.”
He hesitated.
“Three of the former caregivers have asked not to be contacted.”
“Why?”
“They said they signed confidentiality agreements when they left.”
Dashiell frowned.
“I never required confidentiality agreements from my son's caregivers.”
Victor looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Vale did.”
The hallway seemed to grow colder.
I remembered Corinne's warning.
Perhaps you'll enjoy discovering what happened to the women who tried.
Now it sounded less like arrogance and more like a threat.
“Can you find someone willing to speak?” I asked.
Victor nodded.
“One former caregiver agreed. Her name is Nora Bell.”
Dashiell turned toward him.
“Arrange it.”
But before Victor moved away, Maddox spoke.
“Miss Nora was nice.”
We all looked at him.
“She gave me pancakes.”
I smiled gently.
“That sounds lovely.”
“Miss Corinne said she was stealing.”
Dashiell stiffened.
“Stealing what?”
Maddox shrugged.
“Mommy's things.”
Victor glanced at Dashiell.
“Nora was dismissed after an accusation involving missing jewelry.”
Dashiell's expression hardened.
“I remember.”
“Was anything recovered?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then why was she dismissed?”
“Corinne said she caught her searching Evelyn's room.”
I looked back toward the ivory doors.
Now another piece fit.
Nora hadn't necessarily been stealing.
She might have been looking for something.
That afternoon, Victor arranged for Nora to meet us in a small sitting room near the rear garden.
She was in her late forties, wearing a plain brown coat and carrying a worn leather handbag.
She stopped when she saw Maddox.
“Oh, honey.”
The boy recognized her immediately.
“Miss Nora!”
He ran toward her.
She knelt and embraced him.
Then she began crying.
Dashiell watched silently.
I waited until Maddox was occupied with a box of wooden puzzles before asking why she had left.
Nora's face changed.
“I didn't leave willingly.”
“Corinne dismissed you?”
“She said I was dangerous around the boy.”
“Why?”
Nora looked toward Dashiell.
“Because I told Maddox his mother loved him.”
Nobody spoke.
She opened her handbag and removed a folded envelope.
“I tried to give you this when I left, Mr. Whitmore.”
Dashiell took it.
His name was written across the front.
Inside was a short letter.
Nora explained that she'd overheard Corinne telling Maddox his mother had died because he disobeyed her.
When Nora protested, Corinne accused her of theft.
Then the household manager threatened to report her to every employment agency in Chicago.
“I needed my job,” Nora whispered. “My husband had just started dialysis.”
Dashiell looked stricken.
“Why didn't you contact me directly?”
“I tried.”
She opened her handbag again.
This time, she produced a photograph of an unopened envelope sitting on Corinne's desk.
“Your household manager intercepted everything.”
Dashiell read the letter twice.
Then he said something that surprised me.
“Nora, I owe you an apology.”
She looked at him.
“I should have asked questions before allowing you to be dismissed.”
Nora wiped her eyes.
“I only wanted that little boy to know his mother loved him.”
Maddox looked up from his puzzle.
“I know now.”
He held up the photograph.
“Mommy wrote it.”
Nora covered her mouth.
For a moment, everything felt lighter.
Then Dashiell asked about Evelyn's necklace.
Nora's expression changed again.
“I didn't steal it.”
“We know.”
“No,” she whispered. “You don't understand.”
She leaned closer.
“Corinne made me watch her destroy a necklace.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Why?”
“Because she said Mrs. Whitmore had hidden something inside it.”
Dashiell looked at the golden swallow in his hand.
Nora shook her head.
“The necklace she destroyed was fake.”
He froze.
“Fake?”
Nora nodded.
“She'd ordered a duplicate.”
Dashiell looked down at the pendant we'd found behind the curtain.
Then Nora said quietly, “Your wife knew someone was searching for it. That's why she made two.”
She reached inside her handbag once more.
“I kept something Corinne threw away.”
It was a tiny brass screw, no larger than a grain of rice.
Dashiell examined the underside of the golden bird.
A matching screw secured one wing.
Using a small tool Victor brought from the maintenance room, he loosened it.
The pendant opened.
Inside was a folded strip of paper bearing a six-digit number and two words.
ORCHARD TRUST.
Below them was a signature.
Daniel Whitmore.
But the date beside his name was the day Evelyn died.
Dashiell stared at it.
May you like
Then he looked at Victor.
“Get my brother here.”
