by Zara Keane
We strolled over to one of the waiters and secured Reynolds a whiskey. “Can you get me talking to Helen?” he asked, his glass at his lips. “I managed to chat with Huff on the walk back, but I haven’t had a chance to corner his mother yet.”
“Sure.” I cast an eye around the room. Huff was by the patio doors, engaged in a heated conversation with Doug. Helen was chatting to Martha on the sofa opposite Candace and Amb.
Dragging Reynolds in my wake, I marched us up to them and smiled at Helen. “Thank you so much for arranging this trip. I’d forgotten how gorgeous Gull Island is.”
“Well, you know, I barely remembered the place,” the older lady said. “I’m not sure if I ever came out here as a girl. Of course, back then, it was run-down and isolated with just a few stubborn residents clinging on to their land.”
Martha checked her watch and stood abruptly, almost spilling her martini glass. “So sorry. I must check on dinner.”
“There aren’t many permanent residents today,” I said to Helen after her granddaughter’s departure. “The numbers swell in the summer, but not to the extent of Whisper Island’s. Most visitors to Gull Island are day-trippers.”
“Very true.” Helen’s attention shifted to Reynolds. “And what do you do, young man? Are you in business?”
Reynolds laughed. “I’m certainly kept busy. No, the businessperson in my family is my mother, but on a less grand scale than you. She runs a cocktail bar in Dublin. She made sure we learned the value of hard work.”
Very cleverly done. He’d succeeded in diverting the conversation away from his profession without resorting to lying.
“Instilling a healthy work ethic in children is important.” Helen’s expression grew serious. “I grew up on a farm, and helping out was expected of us from an early age. I hated the work, and I couldn’t wait to escape the island, but I’ve always been grateful for the lessons I learned while growing up.” Whether by accident or design, Helen’s gaze drifted over her son and grandchildren. “Growing up rich isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Unless you earn your money through hard work, it’s hard to appreciate the true value of a dollar.”
“That’s what my mum says,” Reynolds said cheerfully. “Speaking of my mum, do you have many family left on Whisper Island?”
For the briefest of instants, Helen’s eyes hardened, but then she was all smiles again. “No. I moved away when I was very young. Did Maggie tell you that her grandmother was my dearest friend?”
“Yes. She mentioned that.” Reynolds slid a glance in my direction.
“Jimmy Wright was Helen’s nephew,” I said, picking up his silent message. “Such a dreadful thing to happen.”
Helen crossed her legs at the ankles. “Yes, indeed. Very sad.”
“I suppose the police had to question you,” I said casually. “They’ve been talking to everyone with the vaguest connection to Jimmy.”
Helen’s benign smile gave nothing away. “Having found the body, I suppose you had to answer quite a few questions. How distressing for you.”
Well played, Helen.
“I found Jimmy’s body, but I had a rock-hard alibi for the time of his death. I was at the café that day until seven, and the doctor estimated that Jimmy was killed at some point between four and five.”
“Which day was that?” Helen’s expression was vague, but I didn’t buy her confusion for a second.
“Wednesday,” I supplied. “The day before the rest of your family arrived.”
“Oh, yes. I remember now. That dreadful policeman asked me all about it.” She shuddered. “He had dandruff all over his shoulders, and I’m sure I picked up a whiff of alcohol on his breath.”
The dandruff was accurate, but in spite of my aversion to the odious Sergeant O’Shea, I’d never known him to drink on duty. Why would Helen invent that detail? Unless she wished to discredit him… “It was just you and Huff here on Wednesday, right?”
She inclined her neck in a regal nod. “Yes. My nurse, Miss Dobbs, traveled with me, as did Huff’s valet. Everyone else arrived on Thursday morning. I probably should have taken the time to visit poor Jimmy, but we weren’t close. How could I have known he’d die so soon?”
“No one could have known.” Except, perhaps, Jimmy’s murderer. “I hope at least you were able to enjoy your days on the island before everyone arrived. I know how hectic it gets with family around.”
“We played golf. I can’t manage to play as many holes as I used to, but it’s a hobby I have in common with my son.”
Over in the corner, Doug moved away from his father, leaving Huff glaring after him.
Reynolds drained his glass. “I’m going to get a refill. Can I get either of you ladies anything?”
“No, thank you,” Helen said with a smile. “One gin and tonic is quite enough for me.”
I held up my barely touched martini glass. “I’m good, too, thanks.”
Reynolds nodded to me and ambled over to the drinks table. In the corner of my eye, I saw him edge closer to Huff. How was he planning to get Huff to talk about Jimmy Wright? Whisper Island was a small place. Sooner or later, one of the waitstaff was bound to let Reynolds’s identity slip.
At that instant, the gong sounded.
Helen got stiffly to her feet with the aid of her cane. “Will you walk in to dinner with me, dear?”
“Of course.”
Helen leaned heavily against me, playing the role of the frail old lady who might be at her last gasp at any moment.
Old she might be, but I wasn’t falling for her act. Helen Huffington knew something about Jimmy Wright’s death. And the only reason I could think of for her to hold back info was to protect her son.
12
DINNER with the Huffingtons proved to be as tense as lunch had been relaxed. Huff’s presence created a notable strain on all the younger members of his family. Only Helen appeared to be impervious to the stormy atmosphere.
Beside me, Reynolds exuded an easygoing appearance, but I wasn’t fooled. He was taking in every nuance of every conversation and storing the relevant bits.
As the meal progressed, so did Huff’s wine consumption. By the time the main course arrived, he’d downed at least four large glasses of wine on top of the cocktail he’d had earlier, and his comments increased in belligerence.
“Huff has quite an impact on his family,” Reynolds murmured to me under his breath.
“That’s putting it mildly. They’re terrified of him.”
As if to prove my point, Hailey’s elbow hit off her lemonade glass, sending it flying. A horrified silence descended over the company as everyone waited for the patriarch’s reaction.
“Clumsy child,” Huff snarled. “You’re as awkward as your father. Rosie never could walk two feet without knocking something over. And as for running—” he snorted, “—more like an elephant careening.”
The little girl burst into tears.
Martha stroked her niece’s hair back from her tear-stained face. “Never mind, sweetheart. We’ll clean it up.”
“If you’re so fond of the kid, why don’t you have one of your own?” Huff took another slug from his wine glass. “Assuming you can find a guy blind enough to take you.”
Martha didn’t respond to her father’s jibe, but her shoulders tensed. “Come on, Hailey. We’ll get you changed into a clean dress.”
“Leave this table, and you can stay gone,” Huff snarled. “If the girl has no table manners, she deserves to spend the rest of the meal in wet clothes.”
Martha’s hand tensed on Hailey’s back, but she acted as though her father hadn’t spoken.
“Don’t be silly, Huff.” Helen addressed her granddaughter. “Get Hailey changed and into bed, Martha. Then you come straight back down here, understand?”
Martha nodded and murmured reassurances to her niece until they were out of the dining room.
“Was that necessary, Dad?” Amb’s thin face bore the signs of a man struggling to keep his emotions in check. �
��Hailey’s only five.”
“Which is why I keep saying she has no place at a dinner party. When I was a kid, I took all my meals in the nursery.”
“Times have changed, dear,” Helen said mildly. “Your father insisted on separating children and adults at mealtimes. Frankly, I prefer the modern approach.”
“Well, I don’t. Not when I’m footing the bill.”
Helen took a delicate sip from her wine glass. “Technically, dear, I’m footing the bill for this weekend. I had my secretary arrange everything.”
I smothered a smile at the sight of Huff’s gaping mouth.
He caught my eye and glared at me. “What are you looking at?” he growled.
I cocked my head to one side and gave him a critical once-over. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m debating between Homo erectus and Neanderthal.”
Huff’s visage developed a purple hue, and his eyes bulged out of their sockets.
“What do you think, Liam?” I pointed to the painting behind Huff’s head. “Which species is that?”
Reynolds didn’t miss a beat. “Homo erectus. The remains are in a museum in Dublin.”
Huff whipped around and stared at the painting of an archaeological dig that had occurred on Gull Island during the nineteenth century. He jerked back to glare at me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Is that the archaeological site we passed on our walk today?” Candace asked. “I find history fascinating.”
“Yes,” I said. “There have been several digs on the island over the years, but Julie would probably know more about that than me.”
While Julie engaged Candace in a discussion about the history of Gull Island, Liam whispered to me, “Naughty, naughty.”
“The dude deserved it,” I whispered back. “He’s a boor.”
“Agreed, but tread carefully. For all we know, he’s a boor with a lethal temper.”
Martha slipped back into the dining room in time for dessert. After we’d finished Carl’s delicious white and milk chocolate mousse, Huff stood abruptly and raised his wine glass to us. “Now that we’re all gathered together, I have an announcement to make.”
“An announcement?” Amb stared at his father blankly. “Is this about the business?”
“Yes,” Huff said smugly, “and no.”
Amb opened and closed his mouth, fishlike.
“Surely anything pertaining to the family would be best left for a time when we don’t have guests?” Candace fiddled with her napkin, her knuckles turning white. “We don’t want to bore them with our private affairs.”
“Family?” Huff snorted. “You’re not my flesh and blood. You’re just married to my son. Don’t tell me what to do. Everything you own was bought with my money, right down to the fertility treatments you needed to have the kid.”
Candace blanched. She stood, swayed in place, and then staggered out of the room. Julie tossed her napkin on the table and ran after her. The rest of us remained seated, too stunned to move.
“What did I tell you, Rosie?” Huff demanded of his eldest son with an air of triumph. “That woman has no backbone.”
Amb’s pale face was chalky white. His mouth twitched as though it longed to form words its owner would never utter.
I clapped, long and slow. “That’s quite a performance. Pity none of us thought to film it. It would have made a worthy addition to your tantrum collection on YouTube.”
Huff turned his steely gaze on me. “How dare you criticize me in my own home?”
“Marley House belongs to the state,” I pointed out. “You’ve just rented it for the weekend.”
Huff’s nostrils flared. “You’re a guest at my dinner table. How dare you speak to me like that?”
“I’m a guest against my better judgment. I came for your mother’s sake.”
“And I’m delighted you did, dear.” Helen cast a benevolent look in her son’s direction. “It’s important to me that my guests feel welcome.”
“I feel about as welcome as a dose of the clap, but the last ferry to Whisper Island left an hour ago. Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other until the morning.”
The struggle to rein in his temper was visible on Huff’s alcohol-flushed face. “If you’re finished insulting me, I have an announcement to make.” He dragged his gaze away from me and put a hand on Brandi’s shoulder. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I have something important to tell you. Brandi is expecting our first child together, and the doctor says it’s a boy.”
A stunned silence fell over the table.
Huff smirked and let the significance of this information settle before continuing. “So I’ll be making some changes. For years, I’ve said I’d leave the majority share of Huffington Enterprises to the son who proved himself the most business savvy. Neither Rosie nor Doug have shown any aptitude for running a business.”
“That’s not f—” Amb began, but his father’s quelling look cut his sentence short.
“I’ve decided to leave the majority share to my son with Brandi. I figure I’ve got nothing to lose. This baby might be my last son, and seeing as you two are pretty much useless, I’m betting on the unknown quantity.”
Doug slammed his glass down on the table. “This is crazy, Dad. Brandi’s baby won’t come of age for nearly twenty years.”
“I’m not planning on dying any time soon,” Huff said. “And I have no problem with you and Rosie playing a role in the business until then—under the supervision of managers of my choosing.”
“You can’t disinherit us,” Amb said, his Adam’s apple working overtime. “I’ve dedicated my entire career to Huffington Enterprises.”
“I never said I was disinheriting you, boy. You’ll still get a lump sum when I die, same as your brother and sister.”
“But the real money lies in the business,” Amb protested. “You know that.”
“Sure it does. But only if the business is run by someone who knows what he’s doing.” Huff sloshed more wine into his glass and glared at his eldest son. “We’ve already established that that someone isn’t you.”
Amb pushed back his chair and leaped to his feet, swaying unsteadily in an unconscious imitation of his wife moments ago. His face bore the signs of a man under considerable strain. “Please excuse me, Grandma. I’m going to see how Candace and Hailey are.”
About time, I thought.
“Of course, dear,” Helen said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Amb nodded stiffly and strode out of the room. If the guy had any sense, he’d pack up and leave first thing.
Courtesy of Huff’s dramatic announcement, we were a subdued bunch when we trooped back to the drawing room for an after-dinner drink. Only Huff and Brandi were in a good mood. He appeared to be very pleased with the mayhem he’d wrought, and Brandi’s expression was smug.
Amb and Candace didn’t put in a reappearance. Doug stared moodily out the window and displayed none of his usual practiced charms. Martha wore the same worried expression she’d had all evening. Even Helen’s armor of controlled blandness displayed dents. Her outward appearance was calm and friendly, but every once in a while, I caught her sliding an inscrutable look at her son. Somehow, I didn’t get the impression that Huff had run his plans for the business by his mother before making his dramatic announcement.
The Whisper Island contingent didn’t linger, and we soon made our respective excuses and headed to bed.
“Do you know how much control Helen has over Huffington Enterprises?” I whispered to Reynolds as we ascended the stairs.
“I believe she has a seat on the board of directors,” he said, “but she handed over the reins to Huff more than twenty years ago. He’s the face of Huffington Enterprises now.”
“Did you get any info out of him about Jimmy Wright?”
Reynolds grimaced. “Nothing of use. Huff kept changing the subject.”
“Much as I despise the guy, I’m going to tackle him about Jimmy in the morning.”
> We reached the top of the stairs a moment after Noreen.
“My room’s that way.” My aunt pointed in the opposite direction to where our rooms were located.
“Night, Noreen,” I said. “Sleep well.”
Reynolds and I ambled down the corridor. Julie and Günter took a very long time to climb the stairs, and Reynolds and I lingered in front of our respective bedroom doors while we waited for our roommates to reach us.
Under the dim light of the hall, his hair appeared darker than it was in daylight, and the shadows made him appear mysterious.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Are you regretting our sleeping arrangements?”
I laughed. “Nice try. No, I’m perfectly happy sharing with Julie.”
“Why do I sense an unspoken ‘but’ in that sentence?”
“But I wouldn’t say no to a goodnight kiss.” The words were out of my mouth before I had time to register their significance.
Chuckling, Reynolds bent down and claimed my mouth with his. This time, the kiss was slow and deliberate, leaving me breathless and flustered when he stepped back. “Goodnight, Maggie.”
And then he was gone, leaving me alone in the dark hallway, my lips still tingling from his touch.
13
IN SPITE of my plan to interrogate Julie about Günter, she didn’t come back to our room immediately, and I fell asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow. I was dreaming about rakes and cats and mankinis when a noise jerked me awake.
“What was that?” I sat bolt upright in our bed. “Did you hear a splash?”
Beside me, Julie turned to her other side. “Dunno,” she murmured. “Maybe.” And then she yawned and drifted back to sleep.
For several long seconds, I debated the wisdom of going downstairs on my own to investigate. Taking a deep breath, I threw off the bedcover and located my slippers. I might as well check out what had caused the sound. I’d never go back to sleep until I did. Before I left the room, I grabbed the small flashlight I always carried with me in my purse and eased the door shut behind me.
