A Skeleton in the Closet (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) by Judith K. Ivie Page B

her attention. “Why, yes, I believe I do,” was her surprising response. “At least, I know what Papa said it was for at the time.” A sly smile played with the corners of her mouth.
    Judging from Ada ’s expression, the implication that the Judge may have invented a cover story was not lost on her, although I pretended not to notice. “Whatever do you mean, Sister? It seems odd that Papa would have told you about this and not me, and I don’t remember anything.”
    “Oh, you were far too taken with young Robert Sloane and your parties and dances and tennis games to be aware of anything as mundane as a closet being constructed in the basement. Ada was always the social butterfly, far prettier than I was,” Lavinia confided, and Ada colored. “It was for his personal papers, Papa said, so they could be locked up away from prying eyes. A vault, I guess you’d call it. He had letters and diaries and trial records of cases dating back to the beginning of his career as a lawyer… oh, all sorts of things. He always said he would write his memoirs when he retired from the bench, but in the meantime, he wanted to protect the innocent. At least, that’s what he said.” Again, I ignored the implication of her words.
    “But surely those things would be kept in his study or a file cabinet or something,” I said. “Whose prying eyes did he mean?”
    “I assumed at the time that he meant Clara and Agnes, which was complete nonsense. My goodness, they would never pry. But now, I’m not so sure that was it.”
    It was Ada ’s turn to question her sister. “What do you mean, Lavinia ? For heaven’s sake, just spit it out!”
    Lavinia regarded her for a moment before deciding to answer. “I think he meant us. Now I think he built that closet to lock those papers away from us. As children, we wouldn’t have been the least bit interested in looking at his old files, and we wouldn’t have understood anything in them even if we had snooped through them. But as young women …” she shrugged.
    Ada stared at her sister, clearly confounded. “If I’m understanding you correctly, Lavinia , our father, a grieving widower and a respected member of this community for decades, had secrets to keep. Whether they were his or other people’s , we don’t know, but he was certainly determined to keep them.”
    “But wouldn’t any closet with a lock on the door have been sufficient?” I was still mystified by the enclosure in the basement.
    “I guess that would depend on how big the secrets were … and about whom,” Lavinia commented, doing more damage to her image as a doddering airhead. I was beginning to suspect that had been carefully cultivated over the years as protective coloration. Nobody expected much of a ditz, especially when she had an exceptionally capable, not to say domineering, older sister to manage things. She shifted her gaze pointedly from Ada to me and then back again.
    Ada addressed her sister. “ Lavinia , Mrs. Lawrence is here to help us resolve this dreadful situation. If you know something that might help us do that, just go ahead and tell us. It has been my experience that secrets always come out sooner or later anyway, and Mrs. Lawrence can be trusted with ours, isn’t that right?” She looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded mutely. As a rule, I hated being the repository of other people’s secrets, but this time, I had an avid interest in what Lavinia might have to say. “There now. What more can you tell us?”
    Lavinia rose to replenish the teapot, whether to hide her face or give herself time to choose her words, I couldn’t be sure. Her hand trembled as she poured more hot water over the tea ball inside the pot, and she replaced the lid carefully before turning back to us.
    “For one thing, Papa wasn’t quite the grieving widower you remember, Ada . Oh, for a few years, perhaps, when we were still young. It was only decent in those days that a few years elapsed between our