Page 72 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
Polly’s smile was gentle. “A promise has never been broken by our Creator. I may be foolhardy, but my belief is as strong as my will, dear Effie. He will not break His promise to me now. Many grand adventures await me. Of that I am certain.”
25
EFFIEHADWATCHEDtheir cook can tomatoes once, and right now she related to the jars that were lowered into the pressure cooker. Too much more and she might explode like a Mason jar, sending spatter all over the room. At the thought, she felt herself blanch.
“This must be put to an end.” Her father paced the parlor floor.
Constable Talbot was in attendance at the impromptu gathering to address Effie’s attack. Gerald Ambrose, the town councilman, was there also, with a furrowed brow and an outraged expression that was far more intimidating than any action Mr. Ambrose could supply. He was all bluster, and Effie resented that he had inserted himself into the recent events.
Anderson stood by her chair, his hand resting on its back, laying silent claim to Effie in a way she hadn’t expected and didn’t quite know what to do with.
Effie understood she was only here because of her testimony and nothing more. In normal circumstances, the men would have completely excluded her, but up until this point, in the last twenty-four hours since her attack, they had only speculated on the details of what had happened.
“You said Floyd Opperman was covered in blood?” Mr. Ambrose leveled a look on Effie that caused her to shrink back in her chair.
“His clothes were stained,” she answered.
“With blood?” Mr. Ambrose pressed.
“I don’t know for sure if it was blood, but it was rust in color, and I—”
Mr. Ambrose turned from her to Constable Talbot. “There. That’s evidence of a crime. He should be arrested and charged with the murder of this Isabelle Addington, as well as Miss James’s recent assault.”
Constable Talbot held up his hand. “Wait just a minute. We have no body and therefore it’s difficult to prove murder. We can presume there has been a death, we can even suspect Floyd Opperman, but he can’t be charged with anything criminal when all we have is supposition.”
“And my daughter’s attack! Twice! Once in our own home.”
“Which you don’t know was carried out by Floyd, any more than Miss James here knows it was Floyd.”
“It was a woman yesterday,” Effie inserted, though she hesitated in doing so. She had no desire to relieve Floyd Opperman of responsibility for crimes of violence he might have committed. But she also knew without a doubt that he had been on the porch at 322 Predicament Avenue, and it had been a woman who attempted to strangle her.
“So we have the potential of Floyd Opperman and an unknown woman as suspects,” Anderson concluded, still not mentioning the massive concern that his daughter was also missing. It was a crucial piece of information that would have increased the urgency tenfold. Yet Effie could understand his continued reticence to bring his daughter into the conversation. Whoever had baby Cora had already enacted violence against Isabelle Addington. Their trustworthiness to not do something to the child was slim, and if the town became aware, the subsequentwitch-hunt of sorts could result in the perpetrator disposing of baby Cora as a means to wash their hands of kidnapping on top of murder.
“Mabel Opperman.” Carlton James snapped his fingers. His eyes were sharp as he swept them across his daughter’s bruised neck. He pointed. “She could very well be in cahoots with her son Floyd—or better yet, attempting to cover up his tendency toward violence in order to protect him. She may have attacked Effie merely because Effie had seen the stains on Floyd’s clothing and followed him to their property.”
“And the man who broke into your home?” Gerald Ambrose was following Carlton’s theory with wide, interested eyes.
“Floyd himself. Why not? Polly was on the porch when he was in the throes of murder. He believes she saw him. The newspapers did nothing to assist in lessening the sensationalism of”—Carlton shot a look between Anderson and Effie—“the entire situation. It merely put a name to the face of the person Floyd believes saw him committing a crime. He’s not a smart fellow, so he breaks into my home to silence Polly and instead is crossed by Effie here.”
“And then,” Ambrose added, fully invested now, “he comes by to warn you, Miss James. He tells you to run because he’s threatening you and your sister. He intends to harm you.”
“Precisely.” Carlton nodded.
“So it’s Floyd and Mabel Opperman. It has been all along.” Ambrose clucked his tongue. “It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. That family is standoffish and has allowed riffraff to come and go at Predicament Avenue for far too long. And Floyd’s the untrustworthy kind.”
“Are you suggesting the Oppermans have paid the nurse to poison Polly?” Effie broke into the conversation, squeezing the words painfully from her sore throat.
The constable’s head jerked up in surprise.
Her father closed his eyes as though to control his reaction.
“What makes you say that?” Constable Talbot directed his question to Effie but looked to her father.
Carlton James ran a hand over his beard. “Effie believes that Polly has been silenced by our nurse.”
“She has! I had a conversation with her just this morning, and that’s because we asked the nurse to take leave since I’ve been staying with Polly!” Effie’s words caught in her throat from the strain of speaking. She felt Anderson’s hand on her shoulder, calming her.
“Do you believe this to be true?” Constable Talbot asked her father.
