Legacy of blood, p.19
Legacy of Blood, page 19
part #2 of A Zoey Callaway Mystery Series
Hmm. Could it be that Inspector Martinelli was arresting these women to keep them off the streets, and save their lives?
Being familiar with the Jack the Ripper case, I was surprised by the inclusion of Jacob Levy. But the other two men were generally accepted as main suspects in the Ripper murders. However, this was the first time I’d heard of the London police arresting prostitutes to keep them safe and out of the grisly clutches of Jack the Ripper, and I wasn’t sure whether this would be the case in 19th century London. If anyone would know, it would be Professor Frost. I made a note to call him in the morning.
I continued working on other branches of Bea’s family for a couple more hours, and the chances of finding royalty in her great-grandmother’s line that came from France was looking promising.
Knowing I had a big day tomorrow, I shut down my computer, locked up my file cabinets, and headed for my room. As I crawled into bed with Atlas and Karma, I thought about Adrianna and her father’s funeral tomorrow, and I found myself dreading it.
27
When I got out of the shower in the morning, I called Professor Frost—told him I had a few questions, and asked if we could get together in the next couple days. He was his usual charming self, and said he was distressed when he’d heard about Adrianna’s death. We set up a time and day to meet.
I wore the same outfit to Adrianna’s funeral as I wore to my Uncle Felix’s. I was tempted to wear my little black dress, but it was too short for a funeral.
Jason rang the doorbell earlier than I would have liked, but he looked handsome in his black suit, pale purple shirt, and black tie.
“Give me five minutes,” I said, when I opened the door.
He rolled his eyes and started playing with Atlas.
I ran back to my bedroom to put in my earrings, then slipped into my shoes and grabbed my black clutch.
Jason gave me an approving look when I came back into the living room. He helped me put my jacket on, and we left for the funeral home.
I was glad we got there early, because I wanted to spend a few minutes alone with Adrianna. My head wanted to scream at her for lying and concealing facts that may have kept her alive. But my heart was filled with sadness. I stood in front of her casket and stared at her face. She looked angelic.
Jason came up beside me and pulled a white rose from the flowers draped over her casket. He snapped off the long stem, which had thorns, and placed the flower in her hands. It amazed me that such a simple gesture reflected his compassion and kindness. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“What was that for?” He looked at me.
“For being you.” I turned around to greet the mourners who were beginning to show up.
Adrianna’s father’s casket was closed, of course, but I had still purchased flowers to go on top of it, and had framed a picture of the man he used to be.
I was surprised to see that many of the townsfolk had come to pay their respects for people they didn’t even know. It touched my heart.
Agent Phillips, Nate, and Bea all approached the caskets separately to pay their respects.
Father Alexander came in, and we had a short, but meaningful, ceremony for father and daughter. I hadn’t planned a wake. I just didn’t see the point. But Bea and the women’s group from St. Agatha’s had put together a small luncheon in the community center.
When the service was over, I tried to beg off from having to go to the luncheon, but Bea wouldn’t hear of it. I grabbed a croissant filled with tuna salad, and tried to disappear into a corner, but to no avail.
Two hours later, I begged Jason to take me home, and we went out to his truck. He opened the door for me, and we drove back to my house. He let the dog out while I changed clothes, and I rejoined him at the kitchen island.
He left a while later, and I was glad for the time alone so I could get to work on the badly neglected FBI files, before going to bed.
Sunday rolled around, and I felt like a slug. I even neglected to go for a run. I didn’t want to do much of anything, so I cleaned the house and spent time chilling with Karma and Atlas. We watched old movies, and just enjoyed a quiet and relaxing day.
I pulled out the information I’d need for tomorrow’s meeting with Professor Frost. Bea’s paperwork had grown considerably, so I transferred all of it into a red rope accordion file folder, before crawling into bed.
I spent the entire day working on the FBI files, and had been productive. I’d identified another Jane Doe, and prepared the report for Agent Phillips before I shut everything down around six so I could get ready for my meeting with Professor Frost.
I made it to Gil’s with three minutes to spare. The professor was settled into a booth close to the front of the restaurant, and he stood to greet me when he saw me come through the door.
“I took the liberty of ordering you a glass of wine,” he said, as I sat, and nodded toward the glass in front of me.
“Thank you.”
He was impeccably dressed, as usual, and looked comfortable in the surroundings.
“So my dear, what seems to be the problem you’re having?”
I took a sip of my wine, then opened up the large file I’d brought with me, and withdrew a folder.
“I was curious. I found an article that said the police were arresting prostitutes to keep them safe from Jack the Ripper? Would that have been true?” I looked up at him.
He chuckled. “I’ve heard that theory before. But most people dismiss it. In my humble opinion, the police were using the Ripper murders as an excuse to clean up the Whitechapel area of London.”
“I see. Well, that explains that.”
The professor’s explanation seemed more logical than arresting women to keep them safe.
We ordered dinner, and before it arrived, I excused myself to use the restroom. By the time I got back to the table, my chef’s salad was waiting for me. While we ate, we had a good discussion on the Jack the Ripper case, and voiced our own theories.
“What I find most curious about the Ripper case is that Jacob Levy was a suspect at all.” I looked at him.
“Oh, yes, Jacob.” The professor scowled, and his voice took on a bitter tone. “Inspector Martinelli hounded that poor man.”
I chuckled. “Well, I guess that’s what detectives do. They apparently had some type of evidence against him.”
“Rubbish! Jacob was a respectable butcher with a wife and six children, for God’s sake.” He slammed his fist down on the table.
“Well, there have been quite a few killers with families and ordinary occupations. I can’t see that him having a family would exclude him.”
“The poor man must have been so distraught. He died of syphilis soon after. His wife and kids struggled after that, of course.”
“Sad.”
Academics. They think they know it all, and believe no one should dare argue with their knowledge.
“Not just sad, Miss Calloway.” The professor frowned. “Tragic. Because of Martinelli’s actions, the poverty and shame that befell that family was felt for generations.”
“How could that be? I mean, really, Professor. Yes, it was a sad situation. And I’m sure you’re more knowledgeable about that era in London than I am. But look at the circumstances.”
“Meaning?” He glared at me.
“Meaning, women were being slaughtered. The police were doing everything they could, without the modern forensics we have today. I’m sure many others fell under suspicion as well.” I shrugged.
“Perhaps.” He stiffened. “But Martinelli’s behavior was reprehensible.”
Before I could respond, he dropped some money on the table and stood.
“I really must go. I thought this was supposed to be about your fat friend’s ancestor. If all you intend to do is defend Martinelli when you are ignorant of the true facts of the case, then please do not call me again. Good night.” He stormed out of the restaurant.
I sat there, stunned. What the hell just happened? His reaction to Jacob Levy’s name seemed out of whack. Probably because he thinks he’s the be all and end all to the Jack the Ripper case.
As I munched my salad, curiosity got the best of me, and I pulled my laptop out of my bag. Yep, Jacob Levy, six kids. He got that right. The two sons married—one without issue, the other had a child who died at six.
Hmm. Might have been the result of syphilis.
The only line that flourished was of the youngest daughter, Margaret. She married late for that era. She was twenty-six when she married Samuel Frost.
Frost! Hang on there, Zoey.
I traced the line down—Margaret had a son Bernard, who had a son named…uh-huh…Rodger Ambrose Frost. Born 1961. Professor Frost was the great-grandson of Jacob Levy. No wonder he took the matter personally.
But how personally?
Then everything clicked into place in my head.
I gathered my things, paid the bill, and hurried out into the darkness. I called Nate to tell him what I’d found out, and told him to meet me at my house.
I heard someone come up behind me, but before I could react, I felt the muzzle of a gun dig into the small of my back.
“Walk,” Professor Frost said.
He forced me to walk back toward town, and we ducked down a dark alley behind the buildings on Main Street. We turned up a side street, and I found that we were at Adrianna’s house.
Professor Frost ripped the bag off my shoulder and pushed it into my hands.
“Get Adrianna’s key out of your purse and unlock the door.”
We entered the house, and the professor locked the door behind us.
28
He grabbed the bag out of my hand and dropped it on the kitchen counter.
I looked around the room. The curtains were drawn, and only the dim light on the range hood illuminated the kitchen and living room. Maybe I could use the dark corners to my advantage.
“Why?” I said. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you have pride in your heritage?” He glared at me. “Inspector Martinelli ruined my family.”
“That was over a hundred years ago.”
I glanced around the living room for something I could use as a weapon.
Boy, did I peg Professor Frost wrong. He’s a complete nutcase. I need to buy some time.
“And our family still hasn’t recovered! He wiped out the family fortune. Jacob Levy was a successful businessman. When word got out that he was a suspect in the Ripper murders, it destroyed him.”
“Oh, no wonder you’re angry. Martinelli did a disgraceful thing. How many of his family line did you have to get rid of?
He grabbed my arm and forced me into one of the chairs in the living room.
“I tried to warn Adrianna and her pitiful father, but they didn’t listen. They didn’t understand.” A hint of regret in his voice. “I sent them notes. I left them messages. Nothing worked.”
“What did you expect them to do? I’m pretty sure they knew nothing of Inspector Martinelli.”
“All they had to do was apologize,” he whined, like a petulant child. “They just had to say they were sorry.”
As much as I wanted to scream at him, I knew if I did, it would only make him angrier.
“It must have been so hard on you and your family living with the stigma.”
He crouched down and put his hand on my knee.
“It was! You do understand. The shame and guilt I felt growing up was unbearable.”
I put my hand over his. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. So you killed Adrianna and her father?”
“I had to avenge Jacob’s unfair persecution, and the persecution our family has been forced to endure since.” He looked at me with a pleading expression. “It was the only right thing to do.”
“I see. So those other two girls were mixed up in this, too?”
“Yes!” He got to his feet. “They were everything. It was the only way I could think of to convince Adrianna I was serious. But she was a stupid girl and didn’t make the connection.” He shook his head. “Then, in a weird twist of fate, she turned to being an escort. Only fitting, don’t you think? Her ancestor, Chief Martinelli, arrested women like her. I did the world a favor. She was a selfish, vain girl who turned into nothing but a cheap hooker.”
I went to say something, but couldn’t.
“Professor, you really don’t want to kill me, do you? Why don’t you put the gun down, and let’s get you some help.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to kill you.” Regret filled his voice. “But don’t you see? You’re the only one who knows. I have to. Now that my work is done, I can go back to England, vindicated.” His eyes took on a far-away look as he thought about his return home.
My gaze darted to the glass swan statue on the coffee table. I leapt out of the chair and grabbed the statue. But I wasn’t fast enough. A shot rang out, and I felt a bullet graze my arm. I dropped the statue and ran toward the hallway leading to Adrianna’s bedroom, pausing only long enough to grab my bag off the kitchen counter.
Another shot rang out, and the bullet got lodged into the wall next to my head. When I reached Adrianna’s room, I hid behind the bedroom door.
“Zoey, it’s really no use to prolong this.”
His voice was close. He must be heading toward me.
I grabbed the laptop out of my purse and let the bag fall to the floor. In the distance, I heard police sirens.
When the professor came into the bedroom, I raised my laptop and hit him over the head. He crumpled to the floor. I sidestepped his body and raced for the front door. When I swung it open, Nate and two policemen were running up the steps to the front porch.
I threw myself into Nate’s arms, and everything went dark.
Epilogue
When I woke up in the hospital, Nate, Jason, and Bea were there. Turns out, when the professor shot me, the bullet got lodged in my arm, and didn’t just graze me, like I’d thought.
The doctor said recovery was going to be a little longer than normal because of the bullet breaking a bone. Surgery to remove it had been successful. The rest was up to me and a physical therapist. Peachy.
Bea said not to worry, that Atlas and Karma were at her house being spoiled rotten, and she was thrilled to have them. That’s Bea—always needs someone to look after or take care of. I loved her for that.
Two days later, I checked myself out of the hospital and had Shannon take me home. My laptop was ruined, so on the way home from the hospital, Shannon agreed to stop at a computer store so I could get a new one.
When I got home, she went next door to retrieve the animals, but only came back with Karma. Bea thought Atlas would be too much for me to handle for a bit, and thought it was best if he stayed with her for a while. I couldn’t argue with her reasoning. Atlas was high-energy, and given how tired and sore I was, it was best he stayed there.
As for Professor Frost, he was cooling his heels in jail until his trial for the murders of Adrianna, her father, and the other poor women who’d been used as pawns in his sick game. I couldn’t wait to testify against him.
When the time came, I looked him right in the eye the entire time I was on the witness stand. As much as Adrianna had lied and been a part of an unsavory industry, she didn’t deserve to be murdered any more than the other innocent lives he’d taken in his quest for revenge.
Professor Frost was sentenced to four life sentences with no possibility of parole. His so-called triumphant return to England would never happen—except in his dreams.
After I testified, I walked past him and he reached out and grabbed my wrist. I winced in pain, as it was the arm he’d shot me in.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
I remembered looking down at him. Instead of the noble and dignified man I’d met at the genealogy lecture, he looked like a caged animal. His eyes were wide with panic, and he’d lost weight.
Nate, Jason, and the bailiff started to come to my aid, but I waved them off.
“Adrianna can rest in peace now. She has been vindicated.” I pulled my wrist out of his grasp and held my head up high as I walked out of the courtroom.
Agent Phillips told me to take as much time as I needed off work, with pay, so I could heal properly. I didn’t even put up a fight. During my downtime, I finished Bea’s family tree. Turns out, she did descend from royalty, but in France. One of her extremely distant relatives had been a duke. She’d been thrilled, and according to her triumphant account, she’d put her friend in the mahjong group in her place.
Jason spent as much time as he could taking care of me and driving me to and from my physical therapy appointments. He was putting in a lot of effort to get me back, but I wasn’t ready to let him get that close to me again. Maybe sometime in the future. I just couldn’t trust him not to become controlling again.
Nate and I remain friends, and casually date. He’s a great guy, but I don’t know if he’s the guy for me.
Only time will tell.
Debi Chestnut, Legacy of Blood
