Page 48 of Murder Will Out
“She’s kind of the forgotten Cameron,” Catherine said. “No one talks about her on the island much. After her husband died, she seems to have quietly lived out her life in Cameron House as a recluse. She’s virtually unmentioned in any news articles, which is strange, given the fascination with the Cameron family around here. I can’t find a single public photograph of her, even from her wedding.”
Forgotten, she might be, Willow thought,but definitely not gone.
Taking a deep breath, she made her decision. “Um… guys? I need to tell you something.”
The three women turned to her expectantly. Willow cleared her throat and ducked her head in embarrassment. “Okay, before I even start—I know what you’ll say, and I know it was a really bad idea, so please let me get through it before you tell me how stupid I was. I don’t know if you’ll even believe me, but please try to keep an open mind.”
Willow hesitantly related her experience in Cameron House the night before, carefully editing out the obviously supernatural elements—shadows opening secret doors, unseen hands putting lockets around her neck, and so on. But it was quite a story even without them.
“I don’t know for sure, but I think the little room I found was Annabel’s,” Willow finished. “It was sort of secluded, hidden away from the rest of the bedrooms, but it was stately and beautiful and justfeltlike a place belonging to family, rather than staff or something like that. And if she really was a recluse, its location makes sense.” She reached inside her hoodie and pulled out the locket. She took it off and set it on the table in front of the other three.
Diana gave Willow a searching look. She opened her mouth as though to speak, closed it, then reached over to pick up the locket, cradling it in her hand. “Beautiful,” she said almost reluctantly.
Mac lightly brushed the outside of the locket with an enviousfinger. “It’s gorgeous. You’re the antiques person, Mom—do you know when this is from?”
Diana pulled her red-framed reading glasses from her pocket and slipped them on her face, bringing the pendant in a little closer. “A monogram locket in the Victorian style. It might date back to the nineteenth century, but it’s more likely a newer replica; monogram lockets never really went out of fashion, and sales surged around wartimes. Jewelry isn’t my specialty area; I’m better with furniture and textiles.” She tilted the locket toward the light, examining the initials on the monogram. “The center initial is anR, and it looks like anAand aDon either side.”
Mac nodded and gazed down at the locket. “Rfor Ramsey? And is theAfor Annabel, then?”
Catherine’s expression was doubtful. “Maybe. But the other initial would be aCif it was Annabel. Annabel Cameron Ramsey. What does theDstand for?”
It was a good question, Willow realized. She was sure it had been Annabel who gave her the locket, but was it actually hers?
Diana carefully opened the locket, revealing the photos of the young man and the sad-faced woman holding her baby. “Oh, how lovely.” She gave a little sigh. “I wonder who they are.” She looked up at Willow, eyebrows drawn. “You found this in a hidden room in Cameron House? Which you found trying to avoid an intruder—anotherintruder, besides yourself—in the house last night?”
Willow nodded. “I know it wasn’t the smartest thing going over there—”
Mac snorted. “Not the smartest? Yeah, you could say that. What were you thinking? You could have at least called us to come too.”
“Which would have been equally not smart,” Diana said firmly. “What you should have done was call the police the second you saw the person go in. It was incredibly foolish, not to mentionillegal. For God’s sake, Willow, three people have died; you could have been the fourth. It wascompletelyirresponsible.”
“I know it was,” Willow said. “I’d yell at me too. But I did go in, I wasn’t killed, and it’s a little late now to say anything to the police. Anyway, I found this too.” Willow pulled out the photo album and opened it to a page near the front, sliding it across the table to the other three. The photo showed the uniformed young man from the locket, arm wrapped affectionately around a young woman at his side. Diana looked up at Willow questioningly. “Look on the back of the photo,” Willow said.
Diana gave Willow one more stern look. “You realize, on top of everything else, that you’ve technically stolen both of these items from the house, a house you had no business being in to begin with.” Finally she relented and turned her attention back to the album. She delicately removed the photo from its corner pockets and turned it over. The three bent over it.
“Douglas and Effie, May 1942,” Mac said, her voice hushed.
Willow nodded. “I’m guessing that’s Annabel’s son; 1942 was about when the US started sending pilots over. This was probably from the day he left home for the last time.”
“The timing fits.” Diana gently replaced the photo into the album and looked back up at Willow. “Are there any photos of the woman and baby in here?”
Willow shook her head.
Catherine frowned. “So, we have Douglas—Ramsey or Cameron, we don’t really know—who went off to war and never came home. And a locket with a photo of him on one side and an unidentified woman with a baby on the other.”
She looked around the room, brows furrowed. “Is it possible?CouldHank be telling the truth?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
They looked around at one another, horrified at the possibility Catherine had raised.
Willow took a deep breath.Trust, she thought.These were Susan’s friends as well as Rina’s. I have to trust them.
“I think Sue was searching for another living Cameron descendant, and I think she may have found one,” Willow said quietly into the silence. “And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Hank. If we can find out who it is, and prove it, that could stop Hank in his tracks.” Willow slid the album back to herself and flipped through a few more pages. “There are decades of photos in here—here’s Geralt and Peter, his older brother, the one who died young,” she said, pausing on another page about two-thirds of the way through the album. “And here they are again, at Peter’s wedding. Catherine, when you were researching Geralt, did you come across anything about Peter and his wife?”
“A little,” Catherine replied, calling up her notes on her laptop. “His bride was born Marisa Williams. The wedding was a major event on the island, but I went through years ofNorth Islands Star-Heraldmicrofilm after that, and there was nothing about herbeyond the coverage of their wedding day. She was from Away, you know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It would have been a bit of a scandal.” Catherine turned another page; there were Peter and Geralt again, Marisa standing between them, and all three were smiling. “There are a few local accounts of Peter’s death in a car accident about three months after the wedding, but not many details. Geralt left the island shortly after his brother died; he didn’t start showing up in the news again until he started making his millions over on the mainland. Marisa seems to have left Little North too; I couldn’t pick up her trail after that. No offspring we know of from her.” She looked up at their disappointed faces. “I’ll keep digging.”
Diana smiled and patted Catherine’s hand. “No, this is fantastic, and if Rina’s case does go to trial, I’ll hire you as a researcher. You are amazing at this.” Her attention shifted back to the photo album as she gently paged through it. She came to a new page and smiled. “Sue,” she said softly. “My God, she’s so young here.”
