Solly stopped with the pizza halfway to his mouth. The look of shock on his face was gratifying.
“Come again?”
“In his will. Alex just told me that Bradley left everything to me. His house, art, business, money–everything.”
Solly blinked. “Wow. I never saw that one coming.”
“Not wow. Why?” Harriet demanded. “Why on earth would he leave me his house and money and everything he owned? It makes no sense.”
She took a shaky sip of wine and looked around Solly’s living room. He’d moved in more plants since she was last there. A vine with deep red flowers climbed a tall piece of bark and two feathery ferns hung from a long chain attached to the high ceiling. Knowing Solly, the place would look and feel like a jungle soon.
“Why would he leave everything to me, Solly?” she asked, looking at her friend again. “He didn’t love me, not really. Actually, I don’t think he ever loved me. I was just another possession.”
Solly set the pizza slice down and focused on his dearest friend. “Think about it, Harry. Your ex didn’t have anyone else to leave it all to. Bradley Higgins had no family, no friends, no charities. He didn’t even have any hobbies. He had only his job and you in his life. He needed an heir–he was a lawyer and paid attention to things like wills–and you were all he had. And I’m sure he didn’t plan to die quite so soon.”
No wonder Bradley had held so tight to her, Harriet realized. He had no one else. At least she had Solly. Bradley had truly been alone in the world. “You’re right, Sol–he didn’t have anyone else. That’s kind of sad, isn’t it?”
Solly shrugged. “I don’t know that it’s any sadder than you or me, Harry. We have family but we’re better off without them in our lives. Everyone has something they have to deal with. That’s life.” He picked the pizza back up and took a large bite.
“Just so you won’t be surprised when the time comes,” he said around a mouthful, “I’m leaving everything to you in my will because there’s no one else I want to leave my meager possessions to.”
Harriet looked at her friend in horror. “I don’t want your money, Sol. Give it–give it to some horticulture society, or a community garden. Start a non-profit: Gardens for Kids.”
Solly swallowed the pizza. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said thoughtfully. “In fact, that’s a great idea.”
“I’m full of them. He could have had it all, Solly.” Harriet felt bewildered. She took a deep breath and tried to explain her ex to her friend.
“Bradley had looks, intelligence, money. He could even be charming when he wanted to be. That was the Bradley I fell for. He had prestige in his tiny piece of the world. It took me a while–too long a while–to find out that he lacked the ability to empathize, to make friends, to care about anyone except himself.”
“You never told me that,” Sol said. “Why did you stay with him for so long?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to be normal and I thought that meant I had to be in a normal relationship, I guess. Unfortunately I was nothing more than another one of Bradley’s possessions. I just didn’t see it until it was too late.”
Bradley had cared deeply about having possessions. They were how he kept score, how he measured himself against other men, she realized.
He had only appreciated the lovely old house his parents left him for the envy it produced in others. By the mid twenty-first century, Portland had lost the majority of its single family homes to developers–most residents on Portland’s famous Munjoy Hill lived in shoulder-to-shoulder apartment buildings or condo towers. The few single homes that remained were priced out of the average Joe’s reach.
Bradley hadn’t cared about the home’s beautiful woodwork or the stained glass windows in the foyer, the polished oak floors or the marble surrounds on the fireplaces, the deep front porch that looked out over the islands of Casco Bay.
No, Bradley only treasured the having, the “I have this and you don’t.” That’s what he cared about. That was all he cared about, and he fiercely protected what he had.
Whatever anger and resentment she’d felt towards Bradley leeched from her, leaving only sadness over the wasted potential of her ex’s life. He’d had so much to share, but by keeping it to himself he had ended with nothing.
“You’re lucky he’s dead.”
“What?” startled, Harriet nearly dropped her wine. “Why do you say that? Jeezus, Solly, don’t ever let Alex hear you say that. He’ll think you had something to do with Bradley’s murder.”
Solly’s usually laughing eyes grew hard. “We both know that Bradley would never have let you go, at least not until it was time to replace you with a new trophy.”
Although she’d never call herself a “trophy”, since Harry agreed. “He bugged the fancy pc he gave me for our one year anniversary.”
“What? You’re kidding me.” Solly’s eyes narrowed. “How’d you find out?”
“Alex took it earlier today to look at it. When he dropped it off tonight he told me that Bradley had been monitoring all of my emails–both incoming and outgoing, for the last year.”
“That slime. Good riddance.”
“He also had a locator planted on it so he always knew where I was. Apparently he never trusted me.”
She hadn’t wished him dead, but if she were to be brutally honest with herself, now that he was, Harriet felt relieved that she would never have to deal with Bradley Higgins again.
She shook her head in wonder. Bradley had willed everything to her.
As if reading her mind, Solly asked what she intended to do with the inheritance. “The house alone has to be worth several million dollars in value,” he noted. “With everything else you’re looking at a tidy sum. Enough so you never have to work again.”
“I can’t keep it. If Bradley had loved me then it would be appropriate, but having all that dumped in my lap by default–it feels like ill-gotten gains.” She picked a piece of pineapple off a slice of pizza while she thought about what to do and popped it in her mouth.
“I’m going to sell the house and furnishings and Bradley’s art collection and donate everything to Portland’s homeless shelters.” The idea felt like a good one. “Maybe fund a shelter for battered women and families. Or one for teenaged runaways. We could have used some help early on.”
Solly gave her an approving look. “That’s a grand idea, Harry. You and I both know there are plenty of people out there who need help.”
Remembering the bad publicity the murder had caused, Harriet made a slight adjustment to her idea. “I might hold back a small amount for myself in case I need to start over again.”
“Why would you need to start over again? You have a great job here.”
While they ate and drank Harriet explained about meeting Cassie and the guest cancellations and Lana shooting down her idea for the murder mystery dinner theatre. She had forgotten what a good listener Solly could be. He didn’t step on her words or try to tell her what to do. He simply listened.
When she finished he merely shook his head. “Don’t go looking for trouble,” was all he said.
They took the last of the wine out to the lanai to finish and were lying back in the deck chairs watching for shooting stars. Solly had turned out the inside lights and Harriet felt comfortably cocooned in the soft, warm darkness.
“So. Tell me about Alex McDreamy.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” She was careful to keep her voice neutral–Solly could always tell when she was being less than honest with him.
“Mmmm. I doubt that. He was at your place for for a while. It doesn’t take more than a couple minutes to drop off your pc. And he brought pizza. You love pizza. That sounds like a date to me. Come on, tell Solly all. Did you talk? Did you learn anything about him?”
Yeah, he’s a terrific kisser.
Harriet sipped her wine and kept silent.
“Har-ry, do I have to tickle it out of you?”
Harriet’s belly clenched. She knew the threat was re
al. Solly had learned early in their friendship that Harriet was extremely ticklish and would wet her pants if he went too far. Just as he was threatening to do now.
“All right, all right. He kissed me. But then he stopped and said he couldn’t kiss me anymore and he left. Oh, Sol, I was so mortified.”
Solly screwed up his face. “Mortified? Because he kissed you?”
“No. I’m mortified because he stopped. I suck at . . .” she waved a hand in the air . . . “man/woman stuff,” she finished lamely. “That’s why Bradley and I never . . . you know–actually did it.”
Oh shit. She couldn’t believe she had just shared her darkest secret. She blamed her loose tongue on the emotional evening and the wine and the false safety of the darkness. She could feel Solly’s sudden stillness beside her.
“You and Bradley didn’t have sex? Why didn’t you tell me about this? I thought we could talk about anything.”
She knew she’d hurt her best friend’s feelings. She could hear it in the stiffness of his voice. Solly spoke again before she could try to explain.
“Why did you stay with him? On top of everything else he did? Why, Harry? You could have moved back in with me.”
Harriet squirmed in her chair. She hated talking about sex because she was so blasted ignorant on the subject. “I was too ashamed to tell you, Sol. And I didn’t want to admit that I was a failure. We tried, but Bradley couldn’t . . . you know.”
She felt miserable. She still didn’t want to admit to her sexual failings but she found that she needed to confide in someone. She drank more wine and soldiered on.
“He said I was so awful at it that I ruined it for him and that’s why he couldn’t . . . you know.”
“Get a stiffy?” Solly said dryly.
At least he didn’t sound hurt anymore. Harriet huffed out a breath of air and plowed on.
“Yes. That. I guess I figured I was better off sticking with Bradley than trying and failing with someone else. I couldn’t bear the thought of any more humiliation, of another man knowing how awful I am at . . .sex.”
“That asshole. I could strangle him myself if he wasn’t already dead. Nobody is born knowing all about sex, Harry. It’s something you explore with your partner. That jerk was covering up his own pitiful inadequacy by throwing the blame onto you. Asshole,” he repeated.
“But I must suck at it because Alex stopped kissing me.”
Solly laughed. “Sugar, if Alex stopped kissing you it wasn’t because he thought you weren’t any good. Trust me. He’s the type of man who would get a great deal of enjoyment teaching you the pleasures of the flesh. What did he say when he stopped?”
“He said, ‘I can’t do this.’ Then he told me I’m still a suspect for Bradley’s murder. And then he dropped the bomb about Bradley’s will and left. And here I am.”
“Feeling frustrated, no doubt.” Solly reached over and patted Harriet’s knee. “Poor baby. Is he a good kisser? Do tell.”
“Oh, yeah.” Harriet recalled the way she had pressed her body to Alex and felt warm again. “I wanted to melt right into him.”
She gave Solly a worried look. “Is that normal?”
“It’s better than normal, sweetheart. You’re a very lucky girl. My guess is that once Alex finds Bradley’s killer you’ll be seeing him again and doing a lot more than kissing.”
Harriet flushed, grateful that Solly couldn’t see her face in the dark. Solly was right–she did feel frustrated, and desperately wanted to find out what followed Alex’s kisses.
She wanted him to teach her the whole shebang. But first they had to find a killer.
Chapter Thirteen
After Alex roared away from Harriet’s cottage he drove down to the southern tip of the island until he hit the mangrove swamp and was forced to stop. He shut down the bike and simply straddled it, letting the darkness settle around him.
The stars felt so much closer here than they did in New York City. When he could see them at all in the city they were faint, tiny pricks of light billions of miles away. He knew it was impossible, but here on the island he could almost imagine some of them falling from the sky they seemed to hang so low.
He breathed in the perfume of a night blooming flower. Sometime he’d have to remember to ask Solomon what it was. The resort’s head gardener seemed to know everything there was to know about plants.
He had behaved like a weak fool at Harriet’s–grabbing her and kissing her like a randy young school boy who couldn’t control his hormones. Jeezus. He was thirty-two, not seventeen. She must think him a real buffoon.
Alex scowled and drummed his fingers on the bike’s handlebars.
It had been a lousy idea to take pizza to Harriet when he knew he was attracted to her–especially now that she had landed back on top of his suspect list. Still, the terms of Bradley’s will had truly shocked her–Alex was sure she’d had no idea that she was sole heir to Bradley Higgins’s sizable estate.
“Dammit.”
Harriet Monroe was not a killer–he felt it in his gut. She had nothing to do with the murder. The one thing he’d learned to trust during his years as a city murder cop was his gut.
But knowing and proving were two very different things. He still had to clear her and the only way to do that was to find the real killer.
An animal’s cry pierced the night and was abruptly cut off. There were predators in the mangrove swamp, stealthy night hunters who kept the wildlife population in check.
Alex could feel sympathy for the prey while accepting that everything had to eat. It was one of Earth’s immutable laws. You were either the predator or you were the prey, and even the top predators became prey when they died and their bodies were consumed by microbes. The synergy had always fascinated him.
He reluctantly turned his attention back to his problem. He thought he had left murder behind when he left the NYC force and took up the position as the resort’s security director, but apparently murder happened anywhere. Even on the world’s most luxurious resort.
He had been desperate for a change when he came to the island. After eight years of processing up to half a dozen bodies a day he had been about to lose touch with his humanity.
No, Alex amended, he had lost touch with his humanity. The corpses had ceased to be people for him. They had become just numbers, merely puzzles to solve. He had hoped that the new job would help him care again, that it would help him tear down the invisible barrier he had erected between himself and others so he wouldn’t feel their pain.
“Well, your brilliant plan is working, Alex. You certainly care about Harriet Monroe.” A small animal scuttled away at the sound of his voice.
Alex thought about kissing Harriet again and this time he smiled at the memory. He hadn’t lost his iron self-control in so long he’d forgotten what it was like to be swept up in desire. He definitely wanted to explore that feeling more with Harriet.
All right then, if he wanted to see more of Harriet on a personal level–and he definitely did–then he needed to discover who killed Bradley Higgins. With his expertise it shouldn’t be too difficult–there was a limited pool of suspects after all.
Earlier that day he had sent the Worldwide Crime Database a list of everyone on the island when Bradley was killed. The WCD kept records of every person who had ever been arrested over the past seventy-five years no matter how petty the crime. If anyone on the island had brushed against the law he would know about it.
Suddenly anxious to get to the hunt, Alex started the bike and headed back to his office.
The kitchen building was dark when Alex rolled into the narrow lane that ran between it and the security building. The security office remained open twenty-four seven, made possible because of the droids Alex used to man the front desk.
When the guests arrived the kitchen would also keep a skeleton crew–a mix of droid and human–working during the night in case a guest became hungry and wanted more than his cottage kitchen or hotel suite could provide.
/> “Everything quiet, Mary?” Alex asked as he entered. He did a quick scan of the room. Nothing out of order. No one sitting and waiting to confess to murder.
One of two identical droids, both named Mary, Mary stood at attention behind the counter, her uniform clean and pressed. “Yes sir. You had one visitor, Miss Lana, at nineteen thirty hours and no phone calls. Miss Lana left when I told her you had gone to question Miss Monroe.”
Mary hesitated a moment. “Miss Lana seemed in a bit of a huff but she left immediately, sir.”
Alex dismissed Lana’s visit. The kitchen head had a habit of stopping by his office at all hours, always for personal reasons. He made a note to program the droids not to give out information about his whereabouts.
“I’m expecting a reply from the WCD,” he told Mary, “send it through to my comm as soon as it arrives, please.”
“Already done, sir. The information you requested came through at twenty hundred hours and is waiting for you.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Mary. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
“Yes sir.”
Not for the first time, Alex wondered how people had managed without droids. Other than regular maintenance and yearly power boosts, they were almost zero care and were available to work twenty-four seven. The top models could be programmed to perform complicated tasks and even make decisions for a wide variety of situations. And if you didn’t examine them closely, they were as close to human as a mechanical being could get. Almost to the point of spooky.
Mr. Wade had offered Alex the choice of humans or droids to man the front desk of the security office. Alex had chosen the droids because they couldn’t suffer from fatigue or become overwhelmed if there was a disaster.
He intended to partner his human employees with droids for the remainder of the security force. The droids would back up the humans without question, fear, or failure.
That reminded him, his human personnel would be showing up in the next day or so along with the first guests. He had already set up assigned duties and rotation rosters and instructed the droid half of the teams, but he’d need to help the new arrivals settle in and get started.
Stalked in Paradise Page 9
