Behind The Mask. Metsy Hingle
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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 you do want to help her, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then, by helping me find her, you would be,” Michael assured the woman. “Even if she decides she doesn’t want to go back to her husband, he would be obligated to help her financially. I’m sure it can’t be easy for her being on her own and having a child to care for, too.”
“She never complained. And she took real good care of Timmy. Why, anyone with eyes in their head could see that as far as Beth was concerned, the sun rose and set on that little boy of hers.”
“Her husband said she was a good mother,” Michael said, although Webster had indicated just the opposite. “I’m sure Mr. Webster would be happy to pay a reward to anyone who could help me find his wife and son.”
“I’m not looking for any reward,” the woman informed him. “And if Beth ran away from the man, she must have had her reasons.”
He was beginning to wonder if the lady was right, but immediately cut off that line of thought. “From what I understand, he and his wife had a nasty argument, and the next thing he knew, she and the little boy were gone. I’m sure you can understand how worried Mr. Webster is, not knowing where they are.”
“I suppose so,” Ms. Schubert told him.
“There are a lot of crazy people out there in the world. Because of Mr. Webster’s wealth, he’s afraid that if the wrong person were to find out that she’s his wife, she and her little boy could be in danger. Maybe even held for ransom.”
“Oh my,” Ms. Schubert said in alarm. “I guess being rich isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Doesn’t seem like it to me,” Michael told her. And because he suspected she was weakening, he added, “If you can think of a place or the name of someone that Beth might have mentioned, anything that might help me locate her, you’d be doing her and her little boy a favor.”
“And if Beth doesn’t want to go back to this Webster fellow, she doesn’t have to?”
“No. Not unless that’s what she wants. My job is to make sure that she and her son are safe, and to let her know that her husband would like to see her. What she does after I tell her is up to her.”
“Well, I don’t know for sure, mind you,” Ms. Schubert began, “but she did mention going to New Orleans. She said her grandmother had an old friend who’d moved there years ago.”
“Did she happen