The Wall Lake Mystery

Chapter 9: Our Shadow

I spent the interim time unpacking and organising my things, a necessary, if unexciting, task. A quarter to three came soon enough, and Holmes and I bundled ourselves up and marched through the drifting snow to the home of the late Hugh Hieman, in hopes we would learn something more about his death.

As we departed the inn, I saw Silas Albright watching us from across the street. As soon as I looked directly at him, he slipped behind the building. Even so, it was a bright day, and I discerned his features more clearly now than in previous cases. He was tall and broad and handsome, and I wondered why he was wasting his life in this manner.

Holmes muttered, "Our shadow is not much for spy work."

When we arrived at the Hieman's, the home was quiet. The children were in school and a sign in the window proclaimed that the shoe store would reopen at four. Mrs. Hieman answered the door and led us to the small sitting and dining room upstairs, where we had investigated that morning, and invited us to sit down. I extracted my notebook and pencil from a coat pocket and prepared to write.

When Mrs. Hieman spoke, her voice trembled, but she came straight to her point. "Mr. Holmes, was my son murdered?"

Holmes inclined his head solemnly. "It appears so, madam."

"I know who did it," she said in a hoarse whisper.

I gripped my notebook tighter, and leaned forward.

Holmes' expression was inscrutable. "Who?"

Mrs. Hieman gritted her teeth. "Silas Albright," she spat.

I dropped my pencil and attempted to retrieve it as unobtrusively as possible.

"How do you know?" asked Holmes. His tone was even, but I could sense his excitement.

"I just know," she replied.

I glanced to Holmes. We both knew a woman's instinct was nothing to take lightly, but this seemed more like an attempt to assuage grief by placing blame.

Holmes shook his head. "I am afraid I must ask you to be more clear. Even if you have no direct proof, there must be something that led you to this conclusion."

Mrs. Hieman gave a shaky sigh. "Silas wanted to marry Lena; he never tried to hide it. With Hugh out of his way, he would be free to do so."

"Has he made any such advances yet?" Holmes asked.

"How should I know?" she exclaimed. "But he probably has."

"No offense meant," said Holmes gently. "I am only trying to understand."

"Sorry," said Mrs. Hieman.

"Tell me more about Miss Hallstrom," said Holmes, reclining in his chair and closing his eyes.

Mrs. Hieman glanced to me uncertainly, so I motioned for her to go on.

"Well, Lena's parents met in Wall Lake, and while her father was off working for the Union Pacific, Lena lived with her mother and uncle on a farm south of town. My husband and I lived on the farm adjacent, until he died five years ago and I moved into town. Hugh and Lena grew up together; they were inseparable, even after they graduated eighth grade. Just a year or two after we moved into town, the Hallstrom family came into a large sum of money—you'll get different stories from different people, but some wealthy relative out east died—and they moved into Sac City and built a big fancy house and whatnot.

"Even after we'd moved apart, Hugh insisted on visiting Lena at least a couple times a month. Two years ago, he determined he would marry her, but she had a number of other male friends who would call, now that she was both beautiful and wealthy." Though Mrs. Hieman tried to keep her tone even, she could not quite mask the scorn she felt toward these other "friends" of Lena's. "I thought all along she was going to break his heart, but then six months ago, he proposed and she said 'yes'.