Hannah swirled the sauvignon blanc in her glass. “Are you suggesting Thornley’s wife might have murdered Kaitlin?”
Rafe thought about it. “Marilyn Thornley is as dedicated to her husband’s career as he is. A decade ago she had a reputation for getting what she wanted. Doubt that’s changed much in the last few years.”
“I won’t ask how you know that,” Hannah grumbled.
Rafe shrugged. “Don’t give me that look. Marilyn never wanted me. She knew I wasn’t headed for big things.”
Hannah frowned. “So how do you know that she had a way of getting what she went after?”
It was Mitchell who answered. “He knows because for a while Marilyn wanted Gabe.”
“Aha.” Hannah pondered that fact. “Did she, uh, get him for a while?”
“You know, I never came right out and asked him,” Mitchell said laconically. “But to tell you the truth, if they did have a fling, it wouldn’t have meant much to him. The only thing he cared about in those days was reviving Madison Commercial. Still is, come to that. I swear, if that grandson of mine doesn’t figure out that there’s more to life than doing deals and making money, he’s gonna wind up missing all the stuff that really matters.”
Rafe shot him a narrow-eyed look. “Gabe resurrected Madison Commercial for you, Mitchell.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I admit I steered him in that direction. But I never meant for him to make the damn company his entire life.”
Rafe shrugged. “The company’s his passion. What did you expect?”
“We all know what happens with a Madison once he’s fixated on his great passion in life,” Hannah murmured into her wine.
“You make it sound like Gabe doesn’t have time for a wife, but that’s not true,” Mitchell continued. “The only reason he hasn’t married is because he’s got a problem with women.”
Hannah was interested. “What kind of problem?”
“He expects them to work the same way his company works.” Mitchell’s voice dripped with disgust and frustration. “Don’t know where he got the notion that women operate like an accounts receivable department or that you could treat one of ’em like a branch of the head office. Certainly not from me.”
“We’re getting a little off track here,” Rafe said. “Why don’t we get back to the problem at hand?”
Hannah straightened in her chair. “Right. Okay, let’s see what we’ve got so far. We think that Trevor Thornley might have been Kaitlin’s blackmail target. But we also know that he couldn’t have killed her that night because he was the star of the institute reception. That leaves us with the extremely weak possibility that someone who didn’t want Thornley compromised might have gone out to meet Kaitlin and silence her.”
“Makes sense to me,” Mitchell said. “What do we do next?”
Rafe turned the glass in his hands. “We talk to Arizona Snow. See if she’ll let us look at her logbooks for that night.”
“Let’s just hope she wasn’t home sick with the flu that evening,” Hannah said.
“Thank you, Miss Optimism,” Rafe growled.
“Well, to be honest, I keep wondering what we can do even if we do come up with a really terrific scenario for the murder of Kaitlin Sadler. It’s not like we can hope to find any proof after all this time. Say that we’re successful. What are our options?”
Rafe hesitated. It was Mitchell who sat forward, determined and eager.
“I’ll tell you what you do,” he said. “You blow the whole damn story wide open so there are no more secrets to be kept. You go to Jed Steadman down at the Journal and give him the facts. He always wanted to be a real investigative reporter. This is his big chance, and I’m betting he’ll take it. If he runs with it, you can pretty much guarantee that every paper in the state will start digging into the Sadler woman’s death.”
“He’s right,” Rafe said. “Jed might not find hard proof, but the entire Thornley camp will be on the defensive. Hell, the lingerie rumors alone will be enough to keep them fully occupied. Whoever’s behind this will be too busy proving Thornley’s innocence on both counts to bother with any more attacks on you or Winston.”
Hannah looked at each man in turn. The same ice-cold intent glittered in both pairs of sea-green Madison eyes. She shook her head. “And you two wonder why everyone says you’re so much alike.”
After dinner Rafe walked out onto the porch with Mitchell. Winston padded along at their heels. Together the three of them gazed at the big SUV lurking in the shadows of the drive, looking for all the world like some modern-day Tyrannosaurus rex waiting for prey. Probably hoping some slow-witted, herbivorous little compact would wander within range, Rafe thought. The silhouette of Bryce’s figure behind the wheel was just barely visible in the gathering shadows. The dinosaur’s brain.
“Well, thanks for dinner,” Mitchell said.
“Sure. Anytime.”
“Still can’t get over the fact that you can turn out first-rate grub like that.”
“Maybe you’ve just been eating too much of Bryce’s cooking.”
“Could be. But I’m used to it.”
Rafe leaned against a post. “I haven’t thanked you for the information you brought back from Portland.”
“No problem.” Mitchell tapped the end of his cane on the edge of the step. “Sort of interesting, if you want the truth. Haven’t ever done anything along those lines.”
“Neither have I. Lucky for us, you and Bev Bolton are such good friends.”
“Uh-huh.”
There was another short silence. Winston yawned.
“Sure hope to hell we know what we’re doing here,” Mitchell said after a while. “If we’re right, we’re talking about blowing apart the campaign of a hot-shit candidate for the United States Senate. Lawsuits could be the least of our worries when this is over.”
“Since when did a Madison ever let the small stuff get in the way?”
Mitchell nodded. “You’ve got a point there.”
“The important thing is that we put a stop to whatever is going on around here.” Rafe folded his arms. “Hannah’s safety comes first.”
“Can’t argue that one,” Mitchell said. “What’s a political campaign compared to protecting a lady? Speaking of Hannah—”
Rafe braced himself. “Were we?”
“We sure as hell were. I didn’t want to say anything in front of her, but we both know the two of you can’t stay shacked up here like this indefinitely.”
“Shacked up?” Rafe managed a politely blank expression. “I don’t believe I’m familiar with the term.”
“Bullshit! You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about. When are you going to do the right thing by that girl?”
“When are you going to do the right thing by Bev Bolton?”
Mitchell’s face tightened. Rafe was startled to see a flash of pain in his grandfather’s eyes. The expression vanished swiftly behind glittering outrage.
“I’d marry Bev Bolton tomorrow if I thought she’d have me,” Mitchell said ferociously. “But I’ve got a reputation to live down. She doesn’t think I know how to make what she likes to call a commitment.”
Rafe looked at him, saying nothing.
Mitchell blinked once or twice. The outrage faded to dawning chagrin. “Well, shoot and damn. You’re in the same leaky boat, aren’t you, son?”
“I don’t think Hannah bought that story you gave her about my bad nerves,” Rafe said. “She’s got the same problem with me that Bev Bolton has with you.”
“Your checkered past?”
“Yeah. But in my case it’s not only my own that I’ve got to live down. I’ve got yours and Dad’s in the way, too.”
“Well, shoot and damn.” Mitchell gazed unhappily at the tip of his cane, then at Rafe. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any good ideas on what to do about this problem Madisons seem to have with females?”
“No.”
“Well, shoot and damn.”
“Yeah
,” Rafe said. “Shoot and damn.”
“No sense asking Gabe. He’s no better with women than we are.”
“Apparently not.”
Mitchell glanced at Winston. The Schnauzer cocked his head in polite inquiry.
“No point asking him for advice, either,” Rafe said. “Hannah had him neutered.”
The night coalesced swiftly around them, deepening the somber atmosphere.
“I think there’s some irony here somewhere,” Rafe said eventually. “But I can’t be sure, because I never finished college.”
“Told you you’d regret dropping out.”
“I know. Look at me now. Doomed to go through life without knowing about stuff like irony and postmodernism. It’s almost enough to make a man regret a mis-spent youth.” Rafe paused. “But I’ll probably get over it.”
Mitchell nodded. “Fix yourself a whiskey and soda and take a long walk on the beach. Always worked for me.” He roused himself and went down the steps. “Tell you one thing,” he said over his shoulder as he strode toward the waiting SUV.
“What’s that?”
“You may not have finished college, but you’re a Madison.”
“So?”
“So, no Madison ever let anything stand in his way once he made up his mind to go after what he wanted. Remember what I said. You can’t shack up with Hannah forever. It’s not right. You’ve got to come up with a fix for this mess. Hear me?”
“I hear you.”
Mitchell opened the passenger-side door of the SUV and climbed in. Rafe and Winston watched the monster vehicle lumber off down the drive.
When the taillights disappeared, Rafe looked down at the dog. “You know, Winston, one of the reasons you and I get along so well is that you never hand out unsolicited advice.”
Winston yawned again, rose, and ambled back inside the house.
Mitchell peered at the road through the windshield. “I think those two need a little kick in the right place to get them moving in the right direction.”
“My advice is to stay out of the matter, sir,” Bryce said. “The conduct of close interpersonal relationships is not your strong point.”
“I don’t pay you for advice.”
“You have made that clear many times over the years.”
“Never seems to stop you from interfering.”
“That’s why you keep paying me, sir.”
“Hmmph.”
“I hate to ask,” Bryce said, “but do you have a plan to apply this kick you seem to feel your grandson and Miss Harte require?”
Mitchell drummed his fingers on the dash, thinking furiously. “I’m working on one.”
Bryce nodded. “I was afraid of that.”
Rafe was brooding. Hannah could feel the vibes. He had been in a strange mood since he came back into the house after seeing Mitchell off. She had helped him with the dishes. There had been very little conversation. The few words that had been exchanged had been centered on speculation about what they might or might not learn from Arizona Snow.
“She’s so weird,” Hannah said. “Lord only knows what those logs of hers will look like, assuming she’ll even let us see them.”
“I think she’ll let me have a look at them.” Rafe finished drying a pan and shoved it into a cupboard. “She and I always got along pretty good in the old days.”
“I know.” Hannah glanced at him. “Why did the two of you hit it off so well, anyway?”
“I don’t know why she liked me, but I can tell you why I took to her.”
“Why?”
“She was the only one who never tried to tell me what I should do with my life.”
Hannah winced. “Okay, I can see the appeal there. Did she ever tell you anything about her past?”
“Nope.”
“Ever wonder about it?”
“Sure.” Rafe shut the cupboard door. “Everyone in town wonders about her past. Most people figure she’s just one hundred percent bonkers.”
“When I was younger,” Hannah said slowly, “I imagined that she was an ex–secret agent who was forced to retire after her mind cracked under the strain of undercover work.”
“That’s as logical as any of the other theories I’ve heard over the years.”
When they finished the dishes they wandered out into the darkened solarium. Rafe put two glasses on the table between a pair of wicker loungers and filled each with gently steaming water. He picked up a bottle of orange liqueur and splashed some into two balloon glasses. Then he cradled the bowls of the balloon glasses over the hot water to warm the liqueur.
When he was finished, he lowered himself into one of the loungers and handed one of the balloon glasses to Hannah.
She accepted the pleasantly warm glass and took a sip of the sultry liqueur. Winston stuck his head over the edge of the lounger. She stroked his ears. An air of doggy bliss emanated from him.
The darkness grew heavier. So did Rafe’s mood. Hannah resisted the urge to break the silence. She was determined that he would be the one to do that. If he wanted to brood, that was his business. It wasn’t like she was his wife or even a close friend, she reminded herself. It wasn’t her job to cheer him up when he was down or jolly him out of a bad temper. Sure, they had made love a few times, but that didn’t mean they were lovers.
Instead of rallying her, that thought lowered her own spirits.
Wonderful. Now she was brooding too.
For a while she thought Rafe might not speak at all. She was telling herself that she was getting accustomed to the silence when he finally started talking. The first words out of his mouth startled her so much that she was the one who was momentarily speechless.
“Ever since the night Kaitlin died,” he said, his voice seeming to come from a distant place, “I’ve always wondered whether or not Mitchell believed that I might have killed her.”
Hannah opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was so taken back she could not think of an appropriate response. Maybe there wasn’t one.
“He never said a word.” Rafe turned the heated glass between his palms. “But that didn’t mean anything. His first loyalty is to Gabe and me. I’ve always known that. Even when we were going toe-to-toe about everything from my lousy job prospects and the motorcycle to my choice in girlfriends, I knew that he would stand by me no matter what. He might disapprove. He might be disappointed. He might be furious. But he would be on my side in a fight. Just like Gabe.”
Hannah stared at him. “You actually thought that all these years Mitchell has been wondering what really happened that night? You weren’t sure he believed your story?”
“I was never certain.” Rafe’s jaw tightened. “And I was too damn proud to confront him and ask him straight out.”
She pondered that for a moment. “Maybe you were afraid of the answer.”
He looked out at the lights on the far side of the bay. “Maybe. Or maybe I just didn’t want him to be put in the position of having to pretend that he never doubted me. Mitchell and I have had our problems, but we’ve always been straight with each other. Didn’t want that to change.”
She thought back to what Mitchell had said about Rafe the first night they had invited him to dinner. He’s a Madison. He’s got a temper. But if he had been with Kaitlin that night and if there had been some terrible accident, he’d have gone for help and then he’d have told the flat-out truth about what happened.
“Your grandfather knows that you had nothing to do with Kaitlin’s death,” she said. “He never doubted you.”
“I know that now.”
Hannah exhaled slowly. “Well, if nothing else good comes from this situation, it sounds like you and he are working out some sort of long overdue reconciliation. That’s worth something.”
Rafe gave her a laconic, sidelong look. “Why do you care whether or not Mitchell and I patch up our differences?”
“I live to bring joy and happiness to those around me.”
“Try again.”
; She made a face. “Don’t pin me down.”
“Right.” He took another swallow of the liqueur.
She gave him a few seconds. When he did not volunteer anything further in the way of conversation, she tried another tack.
“I promised myself I wasn’t going to ask what happened between you and Mitchell outside on the porch a while ago, but my curiosity has gotten the better of me.”
“No surprise there.”
She ignored that. “Look, you just told me that you’re no longer worried that Mitchell might be harboring some deep, dark suspicions about what happened on the night of Kaitlin’s death. And the two of you have decided that you’ll work together on our little investigation. Heck, you’re even having your grandfather over for dinner these days. Obviously your relationship is improving rapidly. So what went wrong out there on the porch?”
“Nothing went wrong.”
“Don’t give me that baffled, befuddled male stare. I’m not buying it.”
He sank deeper into his lounger and wrapped his long-fingered hands around the balloon glass. “I thought I was pretty good at doing baffled and befuddled.”
“Not funny, Madison. When you went outside you were in a reasonably good mood. You came back in a lousy mood. You can’t blame me for wondering what transpired on the front porch.”
For a moment she thought he would not answer. Then he tilted his head against the back of the lounger and closed his eyes. “Mitchell made it clear that he didn’t like the fact that you and I are, and here I quote, shacking up together.”
“Shacking up?” Hannah sucked in an outraged breath. “He actually used that term?”
“He did, yes.”
“Ridiculous. No one uses that phrase anymore.”
“I mentioned that.”
“It’s old-fashioned. Downright archaic. It implies an outdated value system that demeans and insults two rational, intelligent adults who choose to make their own decisions in an extremely private area of life.”
“Damn right.”
“It’s a stupid phrase implying low morals and a complete disregard for societal norms.”
“You can say that again—I think.”
“It takes absolutely no allowance for alternative lifestyles, freedom of association, and the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
Eclipse Bay Page 24
