“So would I. But that’s probably better left to the state. I only hope they make a good job of it. If they can prove that he lied it will make some difference in their treatment of him.”
Undoubtedly it did make a difference as a detective called back later, and Judy found herself telling him even more than she had told Lieutenant Collins. The one thing she omitted was the fact that she believed Irene had stolen her grandmother’s poetry. It was Jasper Crosby she was trying to have convicted, not Irene.
The case was being expertly handled. The knowledge that Jasper Crosby was in jail, charged with assaulting Judy and kidnaping Irene, was some satisfaction. They would keep him right there, too, until Irene’s whereabouts were known.
The day dragged on. Emily Grimshaw’s work seemed to take longer now that Judy had lost heart again. It was good to have Pauline there helping. She read. She typed and when everything else was done she asked Judy if she might see her carbon copies of Sarah Glenn’s poetry. “I wanted to read them myself,” she said in explanation. “It’s a slim chance, I know, but it might help us in our search.”
“I’ve studied and studied this one myself,” Judy said as she handed her a copy of that first poem Emily Grimshaw had given her as a test. No wonder she had said there was too much truth in it! The tower of flame, the ghosts—all, all of it might be true. Even the “human tomcat” that the poet had mentioned they believed to mean Irene’s father, Tom Lang.
Now, through these very poems, Irene had found her mother’s people. It would be such a thrilling, romantic thing to happen if only they could talk it over with her. If only they knew where she was. If only she hadn’t taken the manuscripts....
Judy showed Pauline the poem that Jasper Crosby had brought in after Irene’s disappearance. Now that they knew where Irene must have been, they both saw new significance in the lines:
Death cannot touch the halo of your hair.
Though, like a ghost, you disappear at will.
I knew you’d come in answer to my prayer ...