by Leona Karr
Sloane answered with foul-mouthed muttering as he stalked away and disappeared into the crowd of rough men pouring into the saloon, ready for some strong drink and loud talk.
Brad silently swore. Whitkins would undoubtedly confirm that Sloane had been out with him since early morning the day of Lorrie’s assault. He wished he had better news for Ashley. He braced himself to tell her they were still on square one with no leads as to who had wanted to kill her sister.
AFTER A SHOWER and a change of clothes, Ashley made her way down to the family parlor just before dinner time. She chose a navy daytime dress of woven Georgette and added her knit jacket for warmth. Now that she knew she was going to be staying on the island for at least a couple of weeks, she’d need to do some shopping in Portland for some weatherwise clothes.
She made several false choices in the maze of corridors before she found the right stairway down to the first floor and the family sitting room. Ellen was there, chatting away with a young man who sat on the sofa beside her, a drink in his hand.
At Ashley’s appearance, he quickly set down his drink and rose to his feet as his gaze traveled over her.
“This must be Ashley Davis,” he said before Ellen had a chance to introduce them.
“And this is my nephew, Kent,” Ellen said quickly, smiling broadly. “He pops in now and again to say hello.”
“Nice to meet you, Kent,” Ashley responded politely, trying to ignore a sudden dislike for the smiling, deeply tanned Kent. She judged him to be in his late twenties. Tightly stretched knit pants and a shirt hugged his muscular forearms and thighs, and he had an indolent air about him. “Do you live on the island, Kent?”
“Nope. Just passing by.”
“A friend of Kent’s has a yacht he brings up from Long Island,” Ellen explained. “They have a great time with young people partying on the different islands. Sometimes he spends a few days with me.” She added wistfully, “When he and Pamela were growing up, he was here a lot.”
Ashley eased down into a chair opposite the sofa. “I just learned about Pamela’s tragedy. I understand I have her room.”
“I guess Mrs. Mertz thought you’d want to be close to the workroom, like your sister,” Ellen offered.
“Hey, that’s good news that they found her,” Kent said, resuming his seat. “Do they know what happened?”
“Not yet,” Ashley answered evenly. “Had you met Lorrie, Kent?”
Ellen answered before he could. “Oh, yes, they had a couple of nice chats. Kent was telling her about some of the good times he and Pamela had growing up together. She was only a baby when my sister, Samantha, was killed in an automobile accident. Jonathan needed help raising her, so I came to live with the family.” Her voice faltered. “Pamela was like my very own.”
Ashley was ashamed of herself for wanting more details, but the weird way she’d been drawn into the tragedy made it seem very real to her. “An accidental death, was it?”
“Hell, yes,” Kent swore. “Pam wouldn’t take her own life. She was in a snit over the blowup she and Timothy had and got careless. Timothy stomped off and left her. He was with us on the yacht all night. Didn’t hear about her overdose until morning.” He stood up. “I need another drink.”
Ellen glanced at her watch. “There isn’t time, Kent. You can have wine with dinner. We’ll be eating in the family dining room. I understand that Paul Fontaine is going to join us.”
Kent groaned. “Deliver me! I’ll grab something from the kitchen to eat on my way out.”
Ellen looked disappointed but didn’t argue. He stood there waiting as she reached into her sweater pocket, took out an envelope and handed it to him.
“Thanks, Auntie.” He quickly kissed her cheek before he turned to Ashley. “See you around.”
Not if I can help it, Ashley silently vowed. To all appearances, he was a spoiled young man who sponged off his aunt. Pamela’s tragic end seemed to have had very little effect on his partying lifestyle.
“Shall we join the others?” Ellen asked as she rose to her feet and smoothed her bright burgundy sweater-dress, obviously designed for a taller, younger figure. A silk floral scarf and dangling ruby-colored earrings accentuated the roundness of her full face.
Ashley was grateful that she didn’t have to find the family dining room the first time on her own. It seemed to be in another wing of the house and she heard the creaking of an elevator descending when they reached a wide hall.
When the elevator door opened, Clayton Langdon shuffled out slowly. Dr. Hadley was at his elbow and when he saw Ashley he said, “I heard the good news about your sister, Miss Davis. I hope she’s doing well.”
“Yes, thank heavens.”
“The poor girl is at Community Hospital,” Ellen spoke up, not about to be cut out of the conversation. “And Ashley is going to take over the inventory.”
“By whose authority?” Clayton croaked.
Ashley kept her tone even. “I’m sure you’ll find my credentials adequate to finish Lorrie’s assignment, Mr. Langdon, if that’s your desire. If not, you can notify the auction house to send someone else.”
“Clayton, you don’t need any more stress,” the doctor spoke up. “I don’t understand why you insisted on burdening yourself with such a project in the first place. Be grateful to Miss Davis. Hopefully, she can finish it as quickly as possible and you won’t have to concern yourself with it any more.”
“He’s right, Clayton, dear,” Ellen chimed in as if she couldn’t pass up an opportunity to throw in her two cents’ worth. “You need to spend your energies on your health. Doesn’t he, doctor?”
Clayton muttered something under his breath and continued to shuffle his way into the dining room where Jonathan and Fontaine were standing, talking in low tones. Both men turned and greeted the elder Langdon.
“Will you join us for dinner, Dr. Hadley?” Ellen inquired politely. “I’m sure we can set an extra place.”
“Thank you, but I have another call to make. One of the dock workers has an injured hand that needs some attention.” There was a tired slump to his shoulders as he shifted his medical bag and walked away.
Ashley was sorry he’d refused the dinner invitation. She felt more comfortable with him than with the other men. As she entered the spacious dining room, Paul Fontaine moved forward to greet her.
“We meet again,” he said tritely as he held out a chair for her next to his.
An elaborate chandelier hung above a table set with polished silver, porcelain dishes and hand-cut glasses. As soon as the five of them were seated, Mrs. Mertz gave a signal to Clara and another serving girl to move forward. During the meal, the housekeeper kept her eagle eyes on their every movement.
For most of the meal, the conversation centered on topics introduced by the three men. Ashley exchanged a few words with Fontaine when he asked her some questions about her use of the Internet to market her original boutique designs.
“I would love to learn how to bead,” Ellen commented, having unabashedly eavesdropped on their conversation. “Would you teach me, Ashley?”
Ashley silently groaned but kept a smile on her face. “If I have time. There’s quite a bit of work to be done before the inventory is complete.”
After dinner, Ashley excused herself. “It’s been a long day. I believe I’ll turn in.”
“Of course, dear,” Ellen agreed. “Have a good night’s sleep. We’ll see you in the morning.”
She left them in the main drawing room and was heading for the stairs when she heard Brad’s deep, resonant voice down the hall from the front foyer.
Quickly she turned and headed in that direction.
BRAD THANKED the maid for letting him in and was surprised when Ashley suddenly came into view. From the anxious, expectant look on her face, he knew she wanted some news about Sloane. She’d already made it clear enough she expected Brad to arrest the man and charge him with the crime.
If only it were that easy.
He’d
better have a private talk with her. “Where’s the family?” he asked.
“The living room,” she replied. “We just finished dinner. Clayton’s lawyer, Paul Fontaine, is here.”
“Are you warm enough for a walk on the terrace?”
At her nod, he opened the front door, took her arm and guided her around the north wing of the house to a wide covered terrace facing the ocean and the cliffs below.
The house was dark on this side. Party rooms with French doors opening onto the terrace were closed up. At the height of the summer season, multicolored lights from the house could be seen five miles out on the ocean, but in cold weather, like a hibernating creature, the house lost its warmth and color, standing stark still upon dark granite rocks.
When Ashley shivered, he knew she had pretended to be warm enough. He quickly took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders.
“Don’t argue. Your teeth will be chattering in a minute. Maybe we should go back inside.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’d rather freeze.”
“Well, I’ll try to see that doesn’t happen,” he said drily.
Hugging his jacket around her, she asked, “Did you find Sloane? Is he in custody?”
He took a deep breath. “Yes and no. Yes, I met him when came in on a lobster boat late this afternoon. No, he’s not in custody.”
“You let him go!”
“He has a rock-solid alibi. He couldn’t have possibly assaulted your sister. I’ve verified he left early that morning on Whitkins’s fishing boat and worked as a deck hand ’til dusk.”
“But Lorrie said—”
“I know. Sloane probably hassled her and that’s why she said his name. If your sister wants to press charges for any harassment I’ll pick up Sloane. For more than that, I can’t arrest him.”
Worry lines deepened in her face. “What do we do now?”
“I’ll follow every possible lead. Maybe Lorrie will remember something else…someone else. I promise you I’ll not waste a minute looking for the person responsible.”
She looked so small and fragile huddled down in that mammoth jacket of his that he stiffened against the urge to envelop her in his arms and hug her against his chest. “How are things going with you and the Langdons?”
“All right, I guess. I learned today that Mrs. Mertz put me in Pamela Langdon’s old room.” Her voice caught. “I’m sleeping in the same bed where she died.”
Brad swore. “Damnit, you don’t have to put up with that!” He suspected the housekeeper was sadistic as hell. He’d heard tales of the way the housekeeper treated the staff. So far, he hadn’t been able to learn whether she and Lorrie had had any kind of a confrontation.
“Were you on the island when Pamela committed suicide?” Ashley surprised him by asking.
“No, it happened shortly before I came back to Greystone as a police officer. Pamela was just a baby when her mother, Samantha Langdon, was killed in an automobile accident. I guess her father, Jonathan, and her aunt, Ellen, had their hands full raising her. Apparently, Clayton Langdon doted on his granddaughter and spoiled her. She was only twenty-three, ran with a wild crowd and was engaged to some guy everyone considered a pothead.”
“That’s what the housemaid, Clara, told me.”
“It’s not a nice story and I’m sorry you had to hear it right now.” He put an arm around her shoulders “I’ll make damn sure you get better treatment from now on.”
“No, I don’t want to make waves. I’m afraid the old man has already half decided not to let me finish Lorrie’s assignment. My sister is depending on this project to bring in some money. I can’t let her down.”
“Maybe we could find another place for you to stay. One of the other cottages…or mine?”
Mine! Stunned, he couldn’t believe what he was saying. He guarded his privacy like a hermit, and he didn’t even know this woman. How had she managed to slip past the emotional reefs that guarded against any personal involvement with the opposite sex?
Fortunately, she was shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. It’s better that I stay in the house. It’ll save the time of coming and going.”
They walked over to a waist-high brick wall that overlooked stone steps leading to a boathouse, where a long pier extended out into the water. No sign of any boats anchored there. Ashley remarked how dark and deserted it looked.
“Does the family use it?” she asked.
“Jonathan’s younger brother, Philip, had it built to accommodate his yacht. Now and then he makes dutiful visits to see his father,” Brad explained. “Philip’s the complete opposite of Jonathan. Good-looking. Man about town. Lives off his investments. Been married and divorced three or four times.”
“Are there any grandchildren?”
“Jonathan’s daughter, Pamela, was the only one.”
“That’s sad.”
Ashley remained in the circle of his arm as they turned away from the water and walked a stone path bordering the sprawling mansion. A few scattered ground lights spread a yellowish glow on the dark grounds.
“I think that’s my room up there,” she said when they reached the original part of the house.
“How do you know?”
“See the high narrow porch? Mrs. Mertz said my outside door opens onto a widow’s walk. Apparently there are tales about the early days when—”
He followed her gaze as she stopped short. “What is it? What do you see?”
Dark eaves and gray windows rose to a slanted roof as uncertain moonlight put the house in shadow.
After a long minute, she stammered, “Nothing…nothing.” Then she gave an embarrassed laugh. “For a moment I thought I saw a figure on the widow’s walk. It must have been my imagination.”
Chapter Five
Ashley thought she’d glimpsed a moving form against the backdrop of the widow’s walk. But even as her eyes had transmitted the image to her brain, it had disappeared.
As they moved closer to the house, she scanned the second story. No sign of any presence there—ghost or otherwise. She sighed as a wave of fatigue swept over her.
“You need to get some rest.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Come on, I’ll see you inside.”
They entered the house through the nearest side door, which happened to be near the family room. Even though a couple of lamps were turned on, there was no sign of anyone there.
“I can find my way from here,” Ashley told him.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’ve used the back stairs that go up to the second floor.” She handed him back his jacket. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“I’ll keep you updated on any developments,” he promised. “Meanwhile, don’t be wandering around the island by yourself.”
“I’ll be taking the ferry to visit Lorrie in the afternoon. I’ll be working here at the house all morning. I’ve got to get a handle on what needs to be done to finish up Lorrie’s assignment.”
“Before I leave tonight, I’ll have a talk with Jonathan and make sure you’re treated all right.” He paused and added in a softer tone, “Will you call me if you need to talk with someone? This can’t be easy for you.”
She met his eyes squarely. “Lorrie’s alive. I can handle anything else.”
“Yes, I believe you can.” A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll see you upstairs now.”
She could tell from the set of his head and shoulders that it wouldn’t do any good to argue. In a way, she was grateful for his insistence as he accompanied her up the steep staircase and down the shadowy second-floor hall.
The door to her bedroom was open and a small bedside lamp she’d left on gave a welcoming warmth. Even as she started to tell him goodbye, he came in and crossed the room to the outside door.
She realized then why he had insisted on seeing her to the bedroom. Whether he believed her vision or not, he had intended to check out the widow’s walk for himself.
“Is this door alw
ays unlocked?” he asked as he opened it.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. She hadn’t paid any attention to it in the short time she’d been there.
As he stepped outside, Ashley watched him from the doorway. He quickly walked the length of the empty widow’s walk from one end to the other. He must think I’m really paranoid, she thought as he came back into the room and slid a dead bolt in place.
“Keep the door locked.”
“Thank you for checking.”
“That’s my job,” he replied briskly. “Now, I’ll see if I can find my way to the front of the house.”
“Good luck.”
“Keep this locked, too,” he ordered as he paused in the hall doorway.
For some impulsive reason, she gave him a snappy salute. “Yes, sir.”
She was certain he was quietly laughing as he turned and disappeared down the hall.
ASHLEY WAS SURPRISED at how well she slept that night. Even before she had thrown back the covers and stood up the next morning, her mind was already busily prioritizing. First, she’d call the hospital and make sure Lorrie was all right. Then she’d have breakfast and spend a busy morning in the workroom. After lunch, she’d take a ferry ride to the mainland.
She chose a pair of peach-colored jersey slacks and matching top she’d brought because they packed easily. Not exactly fitting for a misty Maine island, but there was a promise of clearing skies and maybe a warm September sun.
Ellen had told her there were three telephones in the house: one in the front foyer for general use, another in the kitchen for household business and the third in a study that both Clayton and Jonathan used as an office. Unfortunately, the island was not set up for any cell phone transmission.
“We’re lucky to have private phone service at all,” Ellen had told her. “For years, there was nothing but party lines. Believe me, nothing was private with all the eavesdropping going on.”
