CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
“You think it’s the wife, don’t you?” Frank asked. “You think Anna Lincoln killed her husband.”
“I think it’s a very good chance. If Monty Lincoln was so open with making his interest known to these black women, I think Anna must have found out. I think she found out, got angry, and did something about it. If Anna’s half as racist as Samuel and his brother are, I’m sure the fact that they were women of color was a huge, extra sting.”
“That’s true,” Frank said, speeding the car out of Harlem and back toward the Lincoln residence. “But you know, it could have also been Samuel. Though I suppose if that were the case, he wouldn’t have been so forthcoming with information like addresses and other information.”
The closer they got to the house, the more Ava started to wonder about Samuel himself. He had a wealthier brother and had willingly stepped in to take on some of the weight of his death so that Anna and her son wouldn’t have to bear it all. It seemed like a noble gesture on the surface, but she supposed it could also be a lot of posturing. Maybe staying close to the family during this trying time was his way of making sure he was always there whenever bankers or Monty’s other business partners showed up. Maybe he was already trying to see what he could do to make sure he had the best chance at picking up where his brother had left off. And what better way to rope in his brother’s financial successes than killing him?
It felt a bit like a stretch but again, Ava was not prepared to rule anyone out just yet, especially when they now had just about four hours remaining to clear Carter’s name. And while it was hard enough going into the home of a grieving family, she had no doubt that what they were about to walk into would be so much worse than a typical and emotionally draining visit.
She could feel the weight and anticipation of it as Frank parked on the side of the street, in front of the house. It was heavier still when she got out and they made their way up the steps. When Ava knocked on the door, she was not at all surprised when Samuel opened it. He looked confused to see them again, so soon after Frank’s visit.
“Detectives,” he said. “I trust things went well at the apartments?”
“As well as could be hoped, anyway,” Frank said. “You know, I had mentioned coming back and perhaps having a word with Mrs. Lincoln. I’d like to try to get that done now, please.”
Ava wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or not, but she thought she saw Samuel hesitate for the slightest moment. But if he did hesitate, he recovered rather quickly. “Yes, I think that will be fine. The pastor left about twenty minutes ago. She’d currently in the kitchen when their cook, trying to work out meals for the next day. When she did come out of her stupor, Anna stepped right back into the flow of things.” He lowered his voice and added: “I think she’s really just trying to keep busy until the funeral.”
He waved them on to follow him into the den. It was a large, well-furnished room and Ava was both amazed and saddened to find that she could actually feel the grief and sorrow of the loss of Monty filling the room.
“Just a moment,” Samuel said. “I’ll get Anna.”
As Ava and Frank settled in, Ava was surprised to see a middle-aged black woman enter the room. She walked stiffly and was dressed in what appeared to be a cheap maid service uniform. Ava had, to this point, assumed the family had staff of some kind. But this was the first time she’d actually seen any.
“Can I offer you folks anything to drink? Mrs. Lincoln just put on some coffee.”
“No thank you,” Frank said.
“None for me,” Ava said, eyeing the woman as she smiled politely and left the room. She then turned to Frank and asked, “Did you spot household staff any other time you were here?”
“No. When I was here to get the addresses, Samuel mentioned that a woman was out fetching groceries, but I didn’t quite make the connection.”
“I wonder if this is the same woman,” Ava said. “The same one that fetched the groceries and was just now back in the kitchen with Anna.”
Before Frank could make any sort of speculations about this, someone else entered the room. It was a young man dressed in a black suit. His dark hair looked slightly greasy and he was clearly tired. The resemblance to the Lincoln brothers was uncanny, making Ava assume this must be Monty’s son.
“Hello,” the son said awkwardly.
“Hi,” Frank said. He got to his feet and walked over to the young man, offering his hand for a shake. “I take it you’re Mr. Lincoln’s son?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said. “Marcus Lincoln. I…well, I heard you were here. That you’ve even been here a few times before. Trying to find the person that killed my father.”
“That’s right. We’ve asked to speak with your mother, but if you feel up to it, we’d love to have a word with you, as well.”
“Of course,” the boy said—though to call him a boy might be degrading. Ava recalled that Frank had discovered the son was nineteen years of age. In his sadness, he looked a bit younger, despite the suit. “I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it. I would have spoken with you sooner, but I just…” He shrugged and seemed slightly embarrassed.
“It’s quite alright,” Frank said. “You lost your father. You have the right to take some time for yourself.”
“Are you having any luck?” he asked.
Ava wasn’t sure how to respond to this, as they were currently there to look into his mother as a potential suspect. Thankfully, Frank had more experience and tact in these matters, though.
“We have a few leads, but nothing very strong at the moment,” he said, the lie not showing in his face or reflected in his voice at all. “But we’re hoping that perhaps you and your mother might be able to provide some information that can help.”
As if drawn out by hearing mention of herself, Anna Lincoln came into the room. She walked fast, giving Frank and Ava apologetic nods. “So sorry,” she said. “As I’m sure you understand, there’s quite a lot to get done around here today. So much planning and unforeseen situations.”
“Don’t apologize,” Ava said, trying to keep her tone just as level as Frank’s.