Regan Reilly Boxed Set 1

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “You didn’t try CPR?” Fran asked, astonished.

  “No!” Skip said defensively.

  “Please let me do the questioning,” Officer Barnes instructed.

  “Sorry.”

  “It was so shocking,” Skip said. “I thought she was probably dead. But I wanted to get help as fast as I could.”

  “And you’re sure that it was this Mrs. Hopkins?”

  Skip nodded. “Yes. It looked like her, and she was wearing a green jacket that I’d seen her in the other day when I was here dropping off groceries. I looked out the window and saw her crossing her backyard toward the staircase.”

  “Can you describe her for me?”

  Skip nodded again. “She was about sixty—”

  “I thought she was older than that,” Ginny interrupted.

  Barnes cut her off with a stern look.

  “She had graying hair. She was about five foot four. She looked fit. A nice-looking face, I guess,” Skip continued.

  “I will say she had nice eyes,” Ginny added. “Big brown eyes. Of course, I only saw them once.”

  Barnes turned to Jack. “You and Regan were here when Skip came running up from the beach?”

  “Yes,” Jack answered. “He only came into the house for a minute to tell us what happened. Regan and I immediately went back down to the beach with him. The body was gone.”

  “I remember once we had a picnic basket on the beach when we were kids,” Ginny said nervously. “My mother had made us our favorite sandwiches. A big wave struck and washed away the basket. My mother didn’t have money to buy us lunch at the food stand so we starved.”

  Regan smiled slightly, trying to be polite.

  “Ginny, be quiet,” Fran said.

  “Okay,” Ginny said softly. “I just know it can happen so fast. The big waves come and—”

  “Shush,” Fran ordered.

  Barnes looked at Ginny and Fran. “Ladies, I gather you didn’t have much contact with Mrs. Hopkins?”

  They both shook their heads. “She didn’t welcome our attempts at friendship,” Fran reported.

  “Not at all,” Ginny said.

  “She was reclusive,” Fran added.

  Officer Barnes nodded. “Skip, what about you? Did you know her well?”

  “No. I’d call over to her if I saw her in the yard when I was working outside. But she didn’t say much. Sometimes I’d see her out in that rowboat.”

  Ginny smiled. “She loved that rowboat. I’ve never seen someone go out in a boat so much in the winter. She must have had ice in her veins.” Ginny’s face looked as if an idea just popped into her head. “Maybe she was actually planning to go out in the boat! She might have been one of those thrill seekers! You know, like those skiers who do those crazy flips while they’re coming down the mountain. I can’t watch that kind of thing!”

  Barnes raised his eyebrows, then turned to Jack. “You mentioned your parents know the owners of the house. Can we get their number?”

  “I’m sure we can. I’ll check their address book in the kitchen,” Jack said, getting up from his seat.

  “What are you going to do now?” Ginny asked Officer Barnes.

  “We’d like to take a look inside the house. Of course her family need to be notified.”

  “If she has family, we never saw them!” Ginny said. “Never! Not even at Christmastime. I’m telling you we never saw anyone with her. And no visitors. You’d think she’d get lonely for conversation.” She turned to Skip. “The only time we saw her talking to anyone was when we were on our back porch and looked over and saw you talking to her from the Reillys’ deck.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Skip asked. “I just said that I’d say hello to her if I saw her. I was trying to be neighborly. Just like I was trying to be neighborly when I saw what was happening to her boat today. I should have kept to myself and not worried about it!”

  “I didn’t mean anything bad,” Ginny insisted.

  “Skip,” Regan said, “if you hadn’t checked on her boat then her family might never have had any idea what happened to her.”

  “I suppose,” Skip muttered, looking down at the floor.

  Regan looked out the window at Mrs. Hopkins’s house. I can’t wait to see what we’re going to find in there, she thought. There must have been a good reason the woman was so reclusive.

  7

  In Bedford, New York, Jack’s parents, Eileen and Dennis Reilly, were watching the news as they worked out in the area of their spacious basement that they’d turned into a home gym. They’d raised seven children, the youngest of whom had recently graduated from college and moved to Boston.

  Dennis was jogging on the treadmill and Eileen was pedaling fast on the stationary bike. Both were in generally good shape and had recently celebrated their sixtieth birthdays. That was when they made a pact to exercise together at least three times a week.

  Two of the Reilly sons worked with Dennis at the family investment firm in Manhattan. Because of the flooded roads and train delays, Dennis had opted to work from home this morning. When his time was up on the treadmill, he’d shower, then get to his desk.

  Images of the storm’s damage up and down the East Coast filled the television screen. They were watching a car float past a grocery store when the phone rang. Dennis, the sweat pouring down his face, waved his hand. “Let the machine pick it up. We’ll check the messages when we’re finished.”

  He knew he should have saved his breath. There was no way Eileen, with her numerous children and grandchildren, was about to let a phone call go unanswered. She couldn’t help herself. It was part of being Irish. What if something happened to someone?

  “You must be kidding,” Eileen answered as she stopped pedaling and got up from the bicycle. “You can see for yourself what this storm is doing,” she added as she hurried over to the phone on the wall. An attractive woman with light brown hair, green eyes, and a slim frame, she looked years younger than sixty. From the caller ID she could see that the call was coming from their house on Cape Cod. “Hello,” she answered quickly.

  “Mom, it’s Jack.”

  “Hi, honey, is everything all right?”

  “Regan and I are fine, but there’s a problem with the woman who’s renting the house from the Carpenters.”

  Eileen felt an initial sense of relief. “What is it?” she asked, expecting to hear that the problem was minor and storm related. She and Dennis had spent a weekend at the Cape in January with another couple. They knew there was a woman living at the Carpenters’, but had no contact with her. They had spotted her out in her rowboat on a particularly cold Saturday afternoon when they were sitting in the den having cocktails around the fire. They’d all joked about how lazy it made them feel.

  As Jack described the events of the morning, Eileen’s grip tightened on the phone. “What?” she cried. “And now she’s gone?”

  Dennis, hearing the concern in his wife’s voice, pressed the mute button on the television and stepped off the treadmill.

  Eileen gasped. “Poor Skip must be so upset.”

  Dennis rolled his eyes. There was always something going on with that kid. “What happened?” he whispered.

  “Hold on, Jack,” Eileen said quickly. “The woman living in the Carpenters’ house must have fallen down the steps to the beach. Skip found her, ran for help, then her body washed away.” She turned back to the phone. “Jack, the Carpenters’ number in Boston is in the address book. Isn’t it in a drawer there in the kitchen? . . . Well, then check the bookshelf in the den.”

  Dennis frowned. His mind went back to the weekend they’d been at the Cape house in January.

  “. . . you found it. The number should be in there. The Carpenters were so happy when this woman came along . . . Dorie called me in November and sent a new key. She said the woman wanted the locks changed, which she did, but Dorie still felt more comfortable that we had one in case of emergencies. It’s in our bedroom upstairs in my night table drawer. I
left it there in January . . . Please let us know what happens . . . No, we didn’t have any contact with her when we were up there.”

  “I did,” Dennis said quickly.

  Eileen looked at him. “Wait a minute, Jack. Dennis, what are you talking about?”

  “Remember I ran into the post office the morning we left? That woman was standing in line to mail a package. I realized that she was the woman we’d seen crossing the Carpenters’ yard after she went rowing. I said hello and introduced myself. But she obviously didn’t want to talk to me. That was it.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “When I got back in the car, you and the Bennets were in the middle of a conversation. Then I guess I forgot. It was no big deal.”

  “It might be,” Eileen said, handing her husband the phone. “Tell Jack.”

  8

  An answering machine picked up at the Carpenters’ home outside of Boston. Jack left a message to please call him back at his parents’ house on the Cape as soon as possible. When he hung up the phone, he looked at Barnes, who was now in the kitchen.

  “The Carpenters aren’t home. But there’s a key here that Mrs. Carpenter gave my mother to use in case of emergencies. I’d call this an emergency.”

  “I would too,” Barnes agreed.

  Five minutes later Jack and Regan went back with Barnes and Malone to the Carpenters’ home. Ginny and Fran had volunteered to join them, but Barnes politely nixed the suggestion. They stayed at the Reillys’ with Skip, who remained on the couch, wringing his hands and looking glum.

  The rain was coming down in sheets. They assumed Hopkins had come out the back door, so they wanted to go in that way, in an effort to retrace her steps. The group hurried up onto the deck and over to the door. The Carpenters’ ranch-style home had been built in the 1950s on property that was now much more valuable than the house itself. If it were ever sold, Regan was sure that a wrecking ball would roll down the block within minutes. Jack’s parents had had first dibs on buying it several years ago when the last owner decided to move. He offered to sell it to them for a price that in retrospect was a bargain. To their everlasting regret, they decided against it. Not long after, the price of waterfront property skyrocketed. Then their children started to marry and produce grandchildren. It would have been a perfect spot to build a guest house for their expanding family. Regan was always amused at how much Eileen reminded her of Nora when she got that wistful look and said, “If only we’d used our heads. We let it slip through our fingers . . .”

  Jack was about to put the key in the door, but turned the knob first. The door was locked. Quickly he unlocked it.

  They stepped into the small kitchen. The light was on. The appliances and cabinets were old, the floor a tired linoleum. It was almost like stepping back in time. The room was clean but had a worn look. The coffeemaker was on the counter, the carafe was half full. A mug, silverware, and a plate with crumbs were in the kitchen sink.

  “Looks like she had breakfast,” Regan said.

  “Which at least would mean she wasn’t out there on the beach all night,” Jack said quietly.

  “How well do you know that caretaker?” Barnes asked.

  Jack shrugged. “My mother knows him better. She says he’s a good kid trying to find his place in the world. He loves to show up at the house when my family is around and do jobs that could have gotten done when we weren’t here.”

  “I’m glad he doesn’t want to be a doctor,” Barnes observed. “It sounds like it was the sight of blood that made him run away.”

  Regan pushed a swinging door that opened onto the dining room. Piles of cards and envelopes were lined up neatly on the table. Regan walked over and picked up one of the cards. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she read aloud. A quick look revealed that all the cards expressed the same sentiment. Oh boy, Regan thought. If she’s making this many apologies, she must have had a lot of enemies.

  “I’m sorry cards?” Officer Malone asked as he picked up a sheet of paper with at least fifty names scribbled on it. First names only. “This is longer than my Christmas card list.”

  “No wonder this woman was a recluse,” Regan said. “She probably was afraid she’d do something else she’d have to apologize for.”

  Jack looked at her.

  “I’m serious, Jack. This woman was obviously guilt ridden.”

  “I thought love meant never having to say you’re sorry,” Barnes said wryly.

  “That’s bad,” Malone said.

  “I know.”

  The living room was right off the dining room. Three large plastic bags were on the floor in one corner of the room. Barnes reached for one of the bags and pulled out a decorative pillow. An index card with a note “To be picked up by Adele Hopkins” was stapled to the bag. He frowned. Embroidered on the pillow was the expression GRUDGE ME, GRUDGE ME NOT. All the pillows in the bags were exactly the same.

  A pile of books took up most of the coffee table: WAS I BORN RUDE?, Twelve Steps to Overcoming Irritability, and various guides on becoming a better person through diet, exercise, meditation, and travel.

  “Who was this woman?” Regan asked rhetorically. “I can’t wait to hear what the Carpenters know about her.”

  The master bedroom was neat. The contents of the closet revealed a spartan wardrobe of plain pants and sweaters and blouses in drab colors. In the bathroom her toiletries were minimal.

  “She was renting this house during the off-season,” Regan said. “It’s almost as if she were using it as a private retreat.”

  “It doesn’t seem like too many people would have missed her,” Barnes said. “Things here are strange, but not suspicious. A woman full of guilt and anxiety fell down the steps in the middle of one of the worst storms in years. I’m sure she had enemies, but given the circumstances, this appears to be an accident. There are accidents all over the Cape. What we have to find is information that will help us get in touch with the family in case the Carpenters are on a cruise to nowhere.”

  “Maybe being out in that rowboat of hers was a form of penance,” Malone suggested. “If she suffered it would somehow make up for what she’d done to others.”

  Barnes looked at his partner with a bemused expression. “My guess is she enjoyed rowing. Plain and simple.”

  “I can see what you’re saying,” Regan said to Malone.

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s good,” Barnes said. “The two of you can hash it out later over coffee.”

  They all chuckled.

  “Now, I’ve never met a woman who didn’t have a purse,” Barnes said. “If Hopkins was just going down to the beach, she probably wouldn’t have brought it with her.”

  They walked back down the hallway and spotted Mrs. Hopkins’s purse under the dining room table, but it didn’t contain a wallet or keys. There was no sign of a cell phone anywhere.

  Barnes cleared his throat. “If the Carpenters don’t call you back soon, we can try to get in touch with the real estate agents around here and find out who handled the rental. Hopkins must have listed someone to get in touch with in case of emergency. But for now we’ve got to get going. My boss said we’re getting a ton of calls. It’s going to be one long day.”

  “We’ll be in touch as soon as we hear something,” Jack promised.

  Regan looked over at the bags of pillows. The name of the store—Pillow Talk—was emblazoned in bold blue letters on each bag. Regan remembered passing the small storefront on the way in last night. It’s a few towns over, she remembered. Turning to Jack, she asked, “If we don’t hear back from the carpenters soon, do you want to take a ride over to the pillow store? If Hopkins bought this many pillows about grudges, maybe the salesperson remembers her. You never know.”

  “Good idea,” he said, then smiled. “What about our guests?”

  “Skip’s the only one I’m worried about. Maybe he’ll want to come with us.” She sighed. “I’m afraid he’s never going to get over this.”

  Ear
lier that morning

  9

  A huge wave crashed over Adele Hopkins. She felt herself gaining consciousness as the churning water started to carry her body, like she was on a speeding train. Terrified, she opened her mouth to scream for help and nearly choked on the salt water that flooded in. What’s happening? she thought, starting to flail her arms wildly. Am I dreaming? Am I going to drown? She had always loved the sea but now it was her enemy. I’ve got to fight, she told herself. Drawing all the strength she could, she managed to lift her head above the water. With great relief she realized that she hadn’t been pulled out to sea. The tide was all the way in.

  She reached down. Her hand was able to skim the sand as the water carried her down the beach. If I can just stand up, she thought. The power of the wave started to subside and she struggled to her feet. I have a chance, she realized, as she started running desperately through the water toward the rocks. She saw a staircase nearby. It didn’t look familiar. She felt disoriented and had no idea how far down the beach she’d traveled. Shivering, she grabbed the banister and made her way up the steps. Her heart was pounding. At the top there was a house set farther back than most of the houses on the water, with a large back lawn, no deck. I’m going to faint, she thought, fighting a wave of dizziness as she made her way toward the house. Was that a man looking out the window?

  Suddenly the door opened. She staggered toward it.

  “What are you doing, woman?” a man’s voice called as he came out the door and ran toward her. He put his arm around her waist and helped her to his house. “This is no day to be out on the beach.”

  “I know . . .” Adele started to say. “I just . . .”

  “Do you want me to call an ambulance?” he asked as they stepped into his kitchen.

  “No,” she said. “No.”

  “Your face is all banged up.”

  “I fell,” she said. “I think I broke my nose but I’m okay. I live near here. I’ll just go home.” She felt such a sense of relief. This man was being so kind to her. The house was so warm and cozy. There was a delicious scent of coffee in the air. Soft classical music was playing on a radio. Why had she never seen this man before? He had a thick mane of white hair, a mustache, and the kindest face. I don’t deserve this, she thought.