Dr. Anthony Griggs, the coroner of Lake County, stated that the body’s decomposition made it impossible to determine the manner of death. “Lacking any evidence of harm, and given the results of the police investigation, Miss Lemont may well have died of natural causes,” he said. Miss Lemont was in poor health, according to the records of her personal physician. The Lake County prosecutor’s office has confirmed that no charges will be filed. The remaining members of Miss Lemont’s immediate family—Mrs. Jasper Lemont, Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Lemont, and Miss Marjorie Lemont—have remained in seclusion since the body was discovered last week.
Gruesome rumors of a live entombment have shocked Chicago society ever since it was revealed that Miss Lemont’s body was found among the walls of her beloved Labyrinth. Dr. Griggs condemned rumors of this supposed imprisonment, noting that no forms of restraint were found at the scene and the body showed no signs of trauma. “It is unlikely she met her end by such foul means,” he said.
“Sadly, we shall never know what fate befell Miss Cecily Lemont,” said Lake County chief of police Hiram Powell. “We can only pray she rests in peace.”
A private funeral is scheduled for Friday.
Friday?
“What day is it?” I asked Matthew.
“Thursday.”
I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. “That can’t be right. The police . . . they questioned us on Saturday. Or was it Sunday?”
“You’ve been resting for a while.”
“Three . . . four days?”
“Nearly two weeks. As the doctor ordered.”
“The doctor?” Alarmed, I ran my hands over my belly.
“Don’t worry; the baby’s fine. You need to be careful—that’s all.”
I couldn’t remember anything after I collapsed in the sitting room. How could I have slept for two weeks?
“That can’t be right,” I muttered. “The funeral’s tomorrow?”
Matthew nodded.
“Oh God, I don’t have any black dresses that’ll fit. Maybe I can borrow something from Eva.”
“Please don’t fret,” Matthew said, patting my hands. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. I have to look right.”
My head felt fuzzy with confusion and worry and fatigue. I could have easily put my head back on the pillow and gone back to sleep, but that wouldn’t do me any good. I had to get moving, to catch up with what was going on.
I asked Matthew to run me a bath, and though my head spun when I raised it from the pillow, it settled somewhat as I slowly scooted off the bed and stood up. Matthew helped me to the bathroom, and the effort was worth it; scrubbing away the sour odor of sweat made me feel halfway human again. Matthew hovered for a while, making me nervous and self-conscious, until I told him I was all right on my own. I lay in the water until my fingertips shriveled, then wrapped myself in a clean robe and shuffled back to the bedroom. Edna was there, holding a tray.
“Mrs. Lemont sent up something to eat.”
A bowl of cold leek soup and a glass of milk. If only it had been prime rib or a plate of mashed potatoes! I hadn’t realized until then how hungry I was. I sank down on the bed and awkwardly pulled my legs up.
“Here you are,” said Edna, handing me the glass.
I looked at the milk doubtfully.
“Is there any lemonade?” I asked.
“Drink up, there’s a good girl,” Edna urged. As if I were five years old.
I made a point of setting it down without taking a sip. “If you’ll get me that lemonade, please.”
“It’s Mrs. Lemont’s orders . . . ,” Edna began, then stopped as Hannah herself walked in.
“Of course Kate can have lemonade, if that’s what she wants.” She waved Edna away and took her place at the side of the bed. “Dr. Westbrook suggested a few glasses of milk a day to build up your strength.”
“Did he also suggest a sleeping potion?” In the bathtub, I’d noticed a bruise on my upper arm and the faint remnant of a needle prick at its center.
“He did give you something so you’d rest. Poor thing, you needed it.”
How self-satisfied she looked. And no wonder! She’d charmed the police, headed off a criminal investigation, and somehow managed to keep herself clear of any scandal. Grudgingly, I took a few sips of milk and was rewarded with a radiant smile.
“How do you feel, my dear?”
“Better, I think. I don’t remember anything since . . . since the police were here.”
“Best to put all that out of your mind.”
As if I could. “About the funeral . . . ,” I began.
Hannah cut me off with a gentle shake of her head. “Oh no. You won’t be going.”
“I need to be there. For Matthew’s sake, at least.”
“You’re to stay here and rest until the baby’s born. Doctor’s orders.”
I remembered Matthew and Marjorie, imitating their grandfather Dr. Rieger. Doctor’s orders! they’d laughed. It didn’t sound so funny now.
“What do you mean?” I smiled sweetly. “Can I sit outside, at least?”
“You’re not to leave this room,” Hannah said. “We’re not taking any chances with my grandchild.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “I feel fine.”
Hannah’s voice was icy. “Perhaps I haven’t been clear. There will be no more running off to Eva’s. No more pitting me against Matthew. From now on, I am the one who decides what’s best for the baby. You will stay here, under my care, and do as I say.”
“But . . .”
“Do not attempt a battle of wills with me, dear Kate. I always win.”
She stalked out without another word. I heard a clink of metal by the door and saw she had pulled out the key. The door closed behind her, and the lock clicked shut. I glanced at the date on the newspaper on the bedside table and worked out the timing. Six weeks until the baby was due.
For six weeks, I’d be Hannah’s prisoner.
It took a few days to fully grasp the implications of my sentence. Matthew brought stacks of books up from the library, but most of them smelled like mildew and few held my interest. I’d have happily traded all the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe and Sir Walter Scott for the newest Agatha Christie. When I told him I wanted to go downstairs to use the telephone, he told me he’d already called my mother and Blanche, and they sent their love. Eva and other East Ridge neighbors sent flowers, but I wasn’t allowed visitors. The bedroom began to look like a greenhouse thanks to all the bouquets, and it felt like one, too. Even with an electric fan perched on the nightstand, pointed at my face, I could never cool off.