A Daughter's Doubt by Richard Audry

Author:Richard Audry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical mystery heiress private investigator cozy
Publisher: Conger Road Press
Published: 2016-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XVII

MARY WISHED SHE HAD her Kodak Brownie handy to take snapshots of Edmond and Christena’s faces, after she had proposed her own committal. Clearly her two companions were appalled by her audacious plan.

“Good grief, Christena,” Edmond finally said, “did I just hear what I thought I heard?”

For her part, Christena said nothing. She didn’t need to. She only needed to stare at Mary through those narrowed eyes to sum up her simple response: No! A thousand times no!

“Please, just think about it awhile before you decide,” Mary begged. “A woman’s fortune—perhaps her life—is at stake. Time may be running out for Agnes Olcott, if indeed she’s alive. We’ve been given the opportunity to save her from a terrible fate. Don’t you think we should give it our utmost effort?”

Edmond evidently did not, standing to leave. “This morning, Paul asked me if I would help him lug his camera equipment up to the Arch Rock so he could spend the afternoon taking pictures. I told him he was crazy to go clambering about on such dangerous ground with camera and tripod and whatnot. But in comparison to what I’ve just heard suggested, his plan sounds quite sane. So I think I’ll take my leave of you two ladies and go climb a cliff.” He nodded curtly and left.

Mary was taken aback. Edmond had never been so abrupt with her before. She looked at her aunt. “You’re mad at me, too, I suppose,” she said with a tiny pout.

“I’d say that ‘vexed’ more describes my state of mind,” answered Christena. “I figured that your little detecting escapade would only involve asking a doctor a couple of questions and visiting a cemetery. I hadn’t considered that it might include incarceration in an insane asylum.”

“But it wouldn’t be for long. If Mrs. Olcott truly is in Westerholm, I should be able to locate her in a few winks. I’ll be in and out in no time.” Mary gave her aunt a pleading look. “How else can we find out if she’s in there?”

Christena let out with an exaggerated sigh. “Have you ever considered just knocking on the front door and asking if Mrs. Olcott is a patient there?”

“Of course I have. But if I did, it might set off alarms. Dr. Applegate would be told, and perhaps even Merton Olcott, that someone had inquired after Mrs. Olcott. I’m afraid it would make finding her even more difficult.”

Her aunt just shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the whole, preposterous idea from her brain. “By the way,” she finally said, with a baiting smile, “did you know that when a woman goes into a place like Westerholm, her hair is cut very short and she is paraded naked to a dirty old bathtub, where she is scrubbed with lye soap to within an inch of her life?”

The look on Mary’s face must have given her away.

“Ah,” smirked Christena, “you didn’t know that, did you? Doesn’t sound like much fun, does it?”

“That may be

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