Behind The Mask. Metsy Hingle

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СКАЧАТЬ he waited for Susie to return, Michael tried to reconcile the Elisabeth Webster described in the file to the woman who had worked at a day-care center in Mississippi before moving to the sleepy little Arkansas town where she’d worked behind the counter in a drugstore. It simply didn’t make sense.

      “You want me to freshen up that coffee for you?” Susie asked, breaking into his thoughts.

      “Sure.” He shoved his cup toward the waitress and allowed the woman to pour him the coffee that he neither wanted nor needed. “Did Beth happen to mention what the family emergency was?”

      “She claimed her grandmother was sick.”

      Michael added sugar and milk to the coffee. “You didn’t believe her?” he prompted.

      The gum-smacking redhead looked around then lowered her voice conspiratorially and said, “Let’s just say, I don’t think it was a sick grandmother that made her pack up and leave here quick like she did.”

      “Then why do you think she left?” Michael asked.

      “I think she was hiding from someone, and she took off when she thought they were getting too close.”

      “What makes you think that?”

      “Because she was scared.”

      “She told you she was scared?” Michael asked.

      “Didn’t have to. I could tell.” When he arched his eyebrow in question, Susie continued, “First off, Beth was real quiet. Most women with looks like hers do everything they can to play up their good looks and draw attention to themselves. But not Beth. She didn’t seem to like people noticing her. Of course, they did notice her and that only seemed to make her more uncomfortable.”

      “Maybe she was shy,” Michael offered, wanting to get back to the point of the discussion—which was why this young woman had believed Elisabeth Webster was afraid.

      “I know shy when I see it. My cousin Penny is shy. The girl gets tongue-tied and blushes six shades of red when a man gets within ten feet of her. Beth wasn’t shy. She was scared. You could see it in her eyes.”

      “See what?”

      “Fear. I saw that same look in the eyes of a stray kitten I once rescued when a neighbor’s dog cornered it under a porch. After I ran the dog off, I tried to coax the kitten out, but the little thing spit and hissed and clawed at me for all it was worth. The poor thing was starving, but for the longest time it wouldn’t come out to eat the food I brought. When it finally came out to eat, it watched me the whole time like it expected me to turn on it at any minute. Beth had that same look. Like she wanted to trust you, but she was afraid to let her guard down even for a second.”

      Michael frowned, disliking this image of a frightened Elisabeth Webster. He didn’t want to feel sorry for the woman. The last thing he needed was to see her as some damsel in distress instead of a meal ticket. Hardening his resolve, he recalled the data he’d collected on her. She was a young woman who had married a man more than twice her age. And when she’d grown unhappy in her marriage, she’d probably asked for a divorce. Only Webster, being the macho prick he was, had most likely tightened the leash on his wife. So she’d drugged him, stole his money and took off with the kid. If anyone was frightened in the whole mess, it was probably the little boy. “What about her son? Did you ever meet him?”

      “I saw him a couple of times. A cute kid. But Beth was real protective of him—didn’t let anyone get too close. Except for Miss Margie, of course.”

      “Miss Margie?” Michael prompted, suddenly alert.

      “Margie Schubert. She owns the boardinghouse where Beth stayed while she was here in El Dorado. Miss Margie watched the little boy for Beth when she was at work. As far as I know, she was the only person Beth trusted him with.”

      “Thanks, Susie. You’ve been a big help,” Michael told her, leaving a generous tip on the counter before going in search of Margie Schubert.

      Finding Margie Schubert proved to be easy. Getting the lady to talk was a different story. Unlike the people at Perkins’s Drugstore, Margie Schubert was far less forthcoming about the woman who had resided in her boardinghouse. Finally, after nearly an hour, during which time Michael had done his best to convince the woman that he meant dear Beth and her baby no harm, the woman finally relented and agreed to answer a few questions.

      “Let me see that ID of yours again,” Ms. Schubert demanded, and Michael handed over his photo credentials, identifying him as a private investigator. She eyed him warily. “You know you’re not the first one to come around here asking questions about Beth.”

      “So you’ve told me.” Michael knew from Webster’s reports that two detectives had located Elisabeth in this small, rural town. But the former cop in him suspected it had been two of Webster’s enforcers who had been dispatched to bring back the wayward Mrs. Webster. And given Margie Schubert’s attitude, he was fairly sure that neither of the men had endeared themselves to the older woman.

      “They said they were trying to locate Beth to tell her about an inheritance, some rich uncle who’d left her a lot of money.”

      Having learned long ago that it was better to stick as close to the truth as possible, he said, “As far as I know, Beth, or rather, Elisabeth, didn’t have any living relatives other than her son and her husband. And, as I told you, I’m searching for her and her son on behalf of her husband. He’s feeling very bad about the spat they had, and he wants her to come home.”

      The older woman frowned, her ample jowls giving her a forbidding expression. “Still can’t believe Beth was lying about her being a widow.”

      “If it’s any consolation, I suspect she told you that to spare you from becoming involved in any kind of legal action.”

      “What kind of legal action?” she asked sharply.

      “Well, since Elisabeth…Beth,” he amended. “Since she took her son out of state without the father’s knowledge, it’s considered kidnapping. And since you were helping her, you could be considered an accessory.”

      “How can a mother be charged with kidnapping her own child?” Ms. Schubert demanded, apparently not pleased by the accusation. “I’ve never heard such a thing. The poor girl would have spent every cent she earned on day care if I hadn’t kept the little one for her.”

      “And it was kind of you to help her.” Michael saw no point in scaring the woman. As far as she was concerned, she’d helped out a friend. “I’m sure her husband will be glad to hear she has a friend like you.”

      “You say her husband is rich?”

      “Yes, he is,” Michael assured her.

      The woman shook her gray head. “The girl sure didn’t act like she was married to money. Why, when I got sick, she was in this kitchen fixing up supper for my other tenants, washing dishes and changing the linens. Never once acted like it was beneath her the way rich folks usually do.”

      “She was apparently very fond of you.”

      “And I was fond of her,” Ms. Schubert countered. “The last thing I’d want to do is add to the girl’s troubles by talking to you.”

      “But СКАЧАТЬ