Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Sixty-Four

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Episode Sixty-Four

I looked across the water to the opposite bank. I could see Shep perched on the drawbridge waiting for me, but I was not yet ready to leave the estate.

Ignoring Shep’s shouted instructions to return to the other side, I turned and walked back toward the house. Deliberately, I chose the same path which Shep and I had followed earlier in the afternoon.

A swift walk brought me to the forbidden trail with the barrier sign. I glanced around to be certain that I was not under observation, then I stepped over the wire.

I passed the place where Shep and I had encountered the gardener. I noticed that his trowel was lying on the ground, and there was no evidence that he had done any digging with it. However, all along the path, the shrubbery was well-trimmed and tended.

The path led deeper into the woods. There were rustic benches scattered at intervals along the pathway, but I had no time to linger, and I walked quickly on. The woods opened up abruptly into a little clearing. In the midst of the clearing was a large, circular pool. Sunshine poured down on a bed of scarlet chrysanthemums which flanked the cement sides, making a circle of brilliant color.

I was at a loss to understand why this portion of the estate had been closed to visitors, for certainly, it was the most beautiful part. Yet, there was a quality to the beauty which I did not like.

As I stood staring at the pool, I began to feel uneasy. The gentle rustling of the falling leaves and the cool river air blowing against my cheek should have been peaceful sensations, but they only served to heighten the feeling of lurking danger.

Overhead the sky darkened. I wondered if it would rain.

I moved closer to the high concrete rim of the pool and looked down into the water. The wall enclosing the pool was waist high, but the water level was even with the ground. I could not see the bottom plainly, nor judge the depth of the pool, for the water was choked with a tangle of feathery plants. A few yellow lilies—not yet destroyed by the frost—floated on the surface.

As I stood there, looking at the lilies, I saw a large, shadowy form slither through the water.

Instinctively, I backed several steps away from the pool. From among the lily pads, an ugly head emerged, and a broad snout raised above the surface for an instant. Powerful jaws opened and closed, revealing jagged teeth set in deep pits.

I watched as the alligator’s head scooted smoothly over the water for a short distance. Then, with a swish of its tail, the reptile went beneath the surface, and the pool was as placid as before. The creature was eight feet long if it was an inch. Now I understood why this section of the garden had been closed to visitors.

Now that my curiosity was satisfied, I had not the slightest desire to linger near the lily pool. With another glance down into the murky depths, I turned away, but I had taken less than a dozen steps when I paused. A bright and shiny object lay in the gravel at my feet. I reached down and picked up a plain band of white gold. It was clearly a wedding ring.

As I turned the ring over and over in the palm of my hand, I felt the first drops of a light rain begin to fall.

I felt certain that Thomas Atwood had taken this same path earlier in the afternoon. It was logical to believe that the ring had been his, intended for Cybil Furstenberg. Had he lost the band accidentally or deliberately thrown it away?

I looked over to the lily pond. The wall surrounding the pool was too tall to allow for a person to fall into it by accident, just as the water level in the pool was too low to allow for the alligator to climb out on its own. However, that did not eliminate the possibility that Thomas Atwood might have been lured to this isolated spot and thrown into the pool. The mysterious message—

As I stood there, holding the ring and horrified by the possibilities, someone grasped my arms. I whirled about to face my assailant.

A wave of relief surged over me as I saw that it was only the old gardener who held me in his grip.

“Oh, it’s only you,” I said, trying to pull away. “For a second, I thought the Bogey Man had me for sure.”

The gardener did not smile.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep away from here?” he demanded, giving me a hard shake.

“I’m not doing any harm,” I said. I kept my hand closed over the white gold ring so that the old man would not see it. “I just wanted to learn what was back in here.”

“And you found out?”

“Oh, the pool is rather pretty,” I said. “But I’ve seen much nicer ones.”

The gardener loosened his grip on me, and I pulled away and put several feet between us.

“How long have you been here?” the gardener asked.

“Only a minute or two. I came to search for Thomas Atwood.”

“Atwood? What would he be doing here?”

“He disappeared an hour or so ago,” I said. “The servants have been searching everywhere for him.”

“He disappeared?” the gardener repeated.

“Yes, it’s very peculiar. Mr. Atwood arrived at the estate in ample time for the wedding. But after he read a note which was delivered to him, he walked off in this direction and was seen no more.”

“Down this path, you mean?”

“I couldn’t say, but he started this way. I know because I saw him myself.”

“Atwood didn’t come here,” the gardener said with finality. “I’ve been working around the lily pond all afternoon and would have seen him.”

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