by Zara Keane
Reynolds’s deep voice jolted me back to reality. “I visited the monastery when I came out here in January. It was so windy and cold that I considered taking refuge in the round tower.”
“I hope we get a chance to visit it while we’re here.” I turned to Noreen. “Do you have any idea what the Huffingtons have planned for the weekend?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure I sold Huff on a trip to the monastery. I gave him an embellished version of the Viking raids during the Middle Ages. He liked the idea of the island being attacked numerous times but never surrendering.”
“Historians would disagree,” Julie said dryly, “but it is one of the best preserved early medieval monastic settlements in Europe.”
The boat bypassed the public harbor and sailed on for another ten minutes to a tiny blink-and-you-miss-it cove on the other side of the island.
“The Huffingtons have rented Marley House for the weekend,” Noreen explained. “We’ll dock at the property’s pier.”
“Didn’t we visit Marley House when I was a kid?” I asked. “I remember lovely gardens and an ugly house.”
“We toured the gardens, yes. The house was only recently renovated and opened to the public. It’s available to rent for short periods of time, complete with sole access to the swimming pool and gardens.”
“Is the property privately owned?”
Julie shook her head. “Not these days. It used to be the private residence of the local English landowner. When he and his family left during the first part of the twentieth century, the house was abandoned for many years until the state bought it and opened the gardens as a tourist attraction. The house was renovated and reopened a couple of years ago.”
“Interesting. I remember a little Japanese-style garden with a bridge.”
“That’s still there. We can take a look later.” Reynolds smiled down at me, banishing all thoughts of my impending divorce and lousy taste in men from my mind. “I want to check out places I can take Hannah when she visits me next month.”
“You must be looking forward to showing her around Whisper Island.”
Reynolds’s face softened as it did every time his daughter came up in conversation. “I’ll have her for three whole weeks. That’ll be the longest stretch since the divorce.”
I squeezed his hand. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
Our boat docked in a small cove at the bottom of a steep cliff, and we filed down the narrow gangplank onto the pier. Like Whisper Island, the only way up was by means of a rickety metal staircase, or an elevator that had been built into the side of the cliff.
I handed Noreen my bag. “I’ll see you at the top.”
Julie looked aghast. “Surely you’re not planning to walk?”
“Yeah. I’m not fond of enclosed spaces.”
Reynolds moved to my side. “I’ll join you.”
I eyed him skeptically. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I want to.” He stretched his neck from side to side. “Besides, I could do with the exercise.”
“Okay, but don’t look to me for help if you get a fit of vertigo. I’m only slightly more okay with heights than I am with enclosed spaces.”
“I’ll be fine.” He gestured to the first step. “Ladies first.”
The climb to the top took us close to twenty minutes. Despite the ominous wobble of the steps beneath my feet, the view on the way up was spectacular. When we reached the top, I was gratified to find that I wasn’t out of breath. All those morning runs had been doing me good, even if they hadn’t yet helped me shift the last of the stubborn pounds I’d piled on during my post-split food binge and the month I’d spent living with Noreen, Queen of Twenty-Three Helpings.
Reynolds scanned the rocky landscape. “It’s beautiful up here. I don’t get out here enough.”
“Does Gull Island fall under your jurisdiction?” The thought had never occurred to me before, but it would make sense.
“Yeah. Whisper Island Garda Station is responsible for maintaining law and order on Gull Island and Dolphin Island. Beyond my trip out here as a tourist before I started working on Whisper Island, I haven’t had a reason to come out here.” He grinned at me. “All the dead bodies you keep turning up have kept me busy.”
I groaned. “I’m never going to live down my rep as a dead-body magnet.”
“At this rate, no.” He chuckled and propelled me along the rocky path that led to Marley House. “Promise me we’ll have a corpse-free weekend.”
“I can’t make a promise like that, but I’m certainly not planning on finding any more. Jeez, I didn’t plan to find the first few.”
The rocky terrain came to an abrupt end a few yards from the wall that surrounded Marley House. A pebbled path cut through lush green grass and led us to a door-sized wrought iron gate that appeared to be the side entrance to Marley House’s gardens.
Reynolds tried the handle, and the gate swung open.
“Stellar security system,” I said when we stepped through to the garden on the other side. “I guess burglars don’t often venture out to Gull Island.”
“I’m more concerned with potential murderers than burglars at the moment, but I’ll have a word with the council when I get back. Gates shouldn’t be left unlocked when the house is rented.”
I followed him down a meandering path that led from the gate to the main house. It took us through Marley House’s ornamental gardens. Each area had a theme, including the charming Japanese-style garden I remembered from my long-ago visit. A narrow stream ran through the garden, dividing a Japanese pagoda on one side from stepping stones flanked by a variety of plants and flowers on the other.
“I’d love to explore,” Reynolds said, “but I guess we’d better get moving and meet our hosts.”
At that moment, my stomach rumbled loudly, making us both laugh. “I hope the Huffingtons have a good cook.”
He chuckled. “They do. They’ve hired Carl Logan from the hotel. He and a few waitstaff will be working here until Sunday evening.”
“You’re full of gossip.”
“Blame the Spinsters. They told me when I dropped off the cat.”
The last section of the garden took us past a maze before the front entrance of the house came into view. We passed two gardeners, busy trimming hedges with power tools. “This garden must be a full-time job.”
Reynolds shielded his eyes from the sun. “The house, too. It’s huge.”
Marley House loomed before us. It was a large edifice that had been constructed from the solid, gray-purple stones that covered most of the island. It bore the hallmarks of a residence that had been added to over the generations, and it was difficult to guess its original shape.
“It’s impressive in its ugliness,” I said to Reynolds, “but the gardens are beautiful.”
He looked at me, and his soft smile made my stomach flip. “Ready?”
I knew what he was asking. Was I ready to pretend to be his girlfriend for an entire weekend? Could I fake an intimacy we didn’t yet have? Judging by the butterflies in my stomach, I could. “I’m ready.”
“Excellent. And Maggie?”
“Is this the part where you warn me to stay out of your investigation?”
“Yes.” He grinned. “Will it work?”
“Heck, no. You used me to wrangle an invite. The least you can do is let me in on the action.”
“I’m rather hoping there won’t be any action,” he said dryly, propelling me up the steps to the front door. “At least not any involving you.”
“Spoilsport.” I pressed the bell, and the loud clang resounded through the house.
A moment later, Candace Huffington opened the door and ushered us inside a large stone hallway flanked by suits of armor on one side, and an array of ugly oil paintings on the other.
Her greeting was stiff but not unfriendly, and Reynolds was treated to the ghost of a smile. “Welcome to Marley House. I’m afraid I can’t show you to your rooms just
yet.” Candace’s nose—or what was left of it after multiple surgeries—quivered. “Apparently, there was a mix-up with our arrival time. The cleaners are still working upstairs. Huff is livid. He seems to think I’m to blame somehow.” She delivered the last sentence in a staccato burst before collecting herself, a faint flush appearing on her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
While it was obvious that her apology referred to her outburst about her father-in-law, I threw her a lifeline. “Don’t worry about it. We don’t need bedrooms before tonight.”
Candace squared her shoulders and regained some of her composure. “True, but Huff wants us to go on a hike around the island after lunch. You’ll need to change for that.”
“We can do that in a bathroom,” I said. “It’s all good.”
She treated me to a brittle smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I suppose you’re more used to dressing in confined spaces than I am.”
That was what I got for making an effort. The woman just couldn’t help herself. My smile stiffened. “As you say, I’m more used to slumming it than you are.”
Reynolds cleared his throat. “Do you want us to get ready for the hike now?”
“Oh, no. We’ll have lunch first.” Candace’s eyelids fluttered. “Follow me, and I’ll take you to the dining room. My father-in-law has some business calls to make, so he won’t be joining us.”
I snuck a glance at Reynolds. From her tone, it was screamingly obvious that Huff’s absence from the lunch table came as a relief to her. Frankly, a meal without Huff would be good for my digestion.
As we trailed after Candace toward the dining room, I deliberately slowed my pace. “Here goes,” I whispered to Reynolds. “We have to convince Helen we’re in love or she’ll grow suspicious.”
“I have faith in our acting skills.” He slipped his arm around my waist, and his warm breath tickled my skin. “Break a leg, sweetheart.”
10
COURTESY OF HUFF’S ABSENCE, lunch was relaxed and the food superb. Martha had taken Hailey, Amb and Candace’s daughter, to visit Dolphin Island for the day. They weren’t due back before the evening. Without the family patriarch’s snide remarks, the adults blossomed, but their good humor vanished the instant Huff’s valet informed them that their father wanted to leave on the hike in ten minutes. Candace, who’d barely touched her food, showed Julie and me to a downstairs bathroom where we could change into our outdoor gear.
“Huff’s a dose of misery,” Julie whispered when we were alone. “Amb and Candace would be semi-okay if it weren’t for his father’s constant putdowns.”
“I doubt Martha took Hailey on a day trip just to spend time with her niece.” I pulled on a pair of gray hiking shorts. “Huff seems to reserve his most cutting remarks for her and Amb.”
“Yeah. I won’t lie—part of me would love to have the Huffingtons’ money. The idea of not having to worry about paying the bills, owning a mortgage-free home, and being able to afford fancy holidays…” She buttoned her blouse and pulled a face at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Meanwhile, I have a pile of unopened bills on my kitchen counter that I’ll need to tackle when we get back tomorrow evening.”
I dragged a brush through my wild curls and redid my ponytail. “Not needing to worry about money sounds awesome, but watching Huff in action is a stark reminder that no amount of money is worth being controlled by a tyrant.”
“Exactly. I grumble about Mum interfering with my love life, but she’s a dear, really.”
“My relationship with my parents can be politely described as strained, yet they’d never make remarks designed to hurt me. If Mom insults me at times, she doesn’t mean to.” I pulled my hair into a messy bun and applied sun cream. “This is as good as I’ll get.”
“We’re freckle twins,” Julie said with a laugh. “Mine always come out this time of year.”
In spite of my best efforts to avoid them, the warm June weather had brought out my freckles. I clicked the cap on the bottle shut and slipped it into my backpack. “Ready to face our fate?”
Julie made a mewling sound. “No, but I promised Mum I’d be sociable. I wish I could cry off with a headache like Brandi.”
I laughed. “Or claim old age, like Helen. If you feel like avoiding the Huffingtons, hang back with me. I want you to fess up and tell me exactly why you object to Günter.”
My cousin’s lightly tanned cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Nope.” I slung my bag over my back and grinned at her. “I’ll get it out of you eventually, so you might as well give in and tell me all.”
Out in the courtyard, Reynolds and Günter lounged by the fountain in well-worn shirts, shorts, and boots. Amb and Candace looked incongruous in expensive hiking gear that I’d bet had never been worn before. Doug looked more at home in his designer outfit, but Huff had unwisely squeezed himself into clothes a size too small for him.
“Felicity,” he roared. “Where are my binoculars?”
A wisp of a woman in a black pantsuit raced out of the house, nearly colliding with Julie and me at the bottom of the steps. “Here you are.”
Huff’s already red face turned an unhealthy shade of purple. “These are the wrong ones. I wanted the Zeiss binoculars.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The poor woman quivered with tension. “You’d left the Bushnell ones on your bed, and I assumed—”
“I don’t pay you to assume,” Huff yelled. “I pay you to obey my orders.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll go back for them now.” Felicity raced back up the steps into the house to collect Huff’s preferred binoculars.
“Stupid woman,” he growled, still holding the offending binoculars. “Too dumb to take these back with her. I’d fire her if I could find a replacement quickly. Guess I’ll have to wait until I get home.”
“It’s not her fault if you forgot to specify which brand you wanted,” I said in an acid tone. “How many personal assistants do you go through in a year?”
Huff rounded on me, his eyes bulging.
Before he could roar at me, Candace squeaked, “Maybe we should rethink the hike. Why don’t we play a game of tennis? Do you play, Julie?” Not for the first time, her preference for my cousin over me was blatant. No skin off my nose.
Julie, bless her, leaped on the opportunity to distract Huff from bellowing me out. “I know how to play, but I’m out of practice.”
“How about a game of mixed doubles?” A note of hysteria heightened Candace’s voice. “Amb and me against you and Günter.”
“Sounds good to me.” Günter cast an amused glance in Julie’s direction. “What do you say, Liebling?”
“If you call me that one more time, I’ll aim a tennis ball at your head,” my cousin muttered. “Cut it out.”
“But why?” Günter grinned. “It annoys you so much.”
“I said we’d go for a hike this afternoon, and we will all go for a hike.” Huff’s voice shook with barely controlled rage.
The unfortunate Felicity reappeared at that moment, holding another pair of binoculars. Huff grabbed them from her and shoved the offending pair into her trembling hands. Thus supplied with his preferred binoculars, Huff stomped off in the direction of the main gate. The rest of us trooped behind.
Reynolds fell into step with me. “That man has serious anger management issues. If I had to investigate his murder, I’d have trouble finding people close to him who didn’t have a motive.”
“Tell me about it. The man is vile.” I sucked air through my teeth. “I know you need to be here as my date this weekend, but I’m close to packing my bag and catching the next ferry back to Whisper Island.”
“Please don’t do that.” Reynolds put his arm around my shoulders and bent down as though to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “Slow down so we’ll hang behind a little.” His lazy smile and razor-sharp eyes told me all I needed to know.
“Sure.” We walked slowly until we were behind enough from the others not
to be overheard. “Well?” I demanded. “Do you have new info?”
“Nothing concrete about the Wright murder.” He scrunched up his face. “Huff’s slipperier than an eel. I’m certain he visited Jimmy Wright on the day Wright died. Whether or not he killed the man, I can’t say yet.”
“Even if Huff did visit Jimmy, he wasn’t the only visitor that day. Judging by his preference in online smut, Jimmy didn’t dress up in that ridiculous outfit for Huff’s sake. He was expecting a female visitor.”
“We’re still working that angle. No luck in tracking down his dates yet, but we’ll get there.” His expression turned grim. “I got an email from a friend in the FBI. Apparently, Huff was a suspect in a business rival’s murder, but they could never pin it on him.”
My investigative instincts kicked in. “Premeditated, or spur-of-the-moment?”
“The victim was whacked over the head with a ceramic chicken.”
I stifled a laugh. “So it was a spur of the moment killing. That fits my reading of Huff’s personality.”
“Mine, too.”
A memory stirred. “Was this Ronnie King, the chicken wings guy?”
“That’s right.” Reynolds raised an eyebrow. “Have you heard of him?”
“He owns—owned—King’s Wings,” I said. “In addition to selling gross fried chicken balls in supermarkets, the Huff’s Puffs brand includes a chain of fast-food restaurants, and King’s Wings was their main rival. If I recall correctly, Huff wanted to buy King out, but King refused.”
“Exactly, and here’s where it gets interesting. After King’s death, Huffington Enterprises acquired King’s Wings via tactics akin to a hostile takeover. They kept the deal quiet and have continued to run King’s Wings under its original name.”
“So Huff got his way.” I shook my head. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“King’s murder remains unsolved, although the investigating officer is convinced Huff did it.” Reynolds’s jaw hardened. “If he killed Jimmy Wright, I’ll make sure justice is served.”
