Jayne Ann Krentz

by Eclipse Bay

  “Does it matter? They’re all the same, aren’t they? At least, they all look the same when you’re standing in the middle of one.” He looked at Rafe. “What can I do for you? Something tells me that the two of you are not here to purchase the latest issue of Fetish magazine or to rent Alice Does Wonderland.”

  Rafe leaned back against a counter stocked with rainbow-colored plastic dildos arranged in order of size. He shoved his hands into his front pockets and plunged straight into the tale.

  “This is about what happened the night Kaitlin Sadler died,” he said. “Hannah and I have some reason to think that her death might not have been an accident.”

  Virgil nodded somberly. “Yes, of course.”

  Hannah shot him a quick, frowning glance. “You don’t look surprised, Mr. Nash.”

  “Why should I be surprised? I’ve heard the rumors.”

  “Exactly what rumors have you heard?” Rafe asked.

  Virgil raised his thin shoulders in a small shrug.

  “Everyone knows that the two of you went to see Dell Sadler yesterday. Given his history with you, Rafe, there could be only one reason why the pair of you would sit down and talk after all this time.”

  “Okay,” Rafe said, “I’ll cut to the chase. A few things have happened lately that make us think that someone doesn’t want the old investigation reopened.”

  Virgil said nothing. He just waited.

  “We’ve picked up some indications,” Hannah added, “that Kaitlin Sadler may have been blackmailing someone in town. If it’s true, it might mean that same someone killed her to silence her.”

  Glittering curiosity flared without warning in Virgil’s gaze. “You don’t say.”

  “We don’t have anything solid to go on yet,” Rafe said. “But it looks like the blackmail material might have had something to do with someone’s sex life.”

  “It often does.” Virgil paused. “But in this day and age, it would have to be a particularly interesting sex life to be worth blackmail payments or murder.”

  “That’s why we came to you,” Rafe said. “Know any men in town who like to wear ladies’ underwear?”

  “At least half a dozen names come to mind,” Virgil said without missing a beat. “If that’s all you’ve got, you’ll be at this investigation for a very long time.”

  “You’re kidding,” Hannah said. “You know half a dozen men in Eclipse Bay who have a penchant for female underwear?”

  “The fetish for women’s undergarments is not all that rare or unusual.” Virgil adopted a professional tone as he warmed to his lecture. “It is generally considered a harmless quirk, as these things go. Indeed, the history of prominent men dressing in lingerie goes back for centuries. There have been kings, generals, presidents, statesmen—”

  “But of the six men here in Eclipse Bay who like to wear lingerie which one would be seriously horrified if the news got around?” Rafe asked before Virgil could get sidetracked by his professional interest.

  “I imagine that they would all be embarrassed, to varying degrees.”

  Hannah looked at him. “Think any of them would be so humiliated that he would pay blackmail or kill to keep the secret?”

  Virgil stroked his goatee while he pondered that. In the end, he shook his head decisively. “Frankly, I don’t see any of them in the role of murderer. But one never knows, does one?”

  “Six men,” Rafe repeated.

  “Those are just the ones who come to mind immediately because I have had some contact with them over the years,” Virgil said. “There are no doubt several others who don’t shop at my store.”

  Hannah sighed. “It’s hopeless. Sounds like we can’t even get a complete list, let alone verify the whereabouts of all the men on it for the night Kaitlin died.”

  “You don’t need to find all of them,” Virgil pointed out. “Just the ones who knew Kaitlin intimately.”

  “From what I’ve heard, that would still be a mighty long list.” Hannah shot Rafe a dark glare.

  “Don’t look at me,” Rafe said calmly. “I prefer lingerie on ladies.”

  “And he is the only suspect who had an ironclad alibi that night,” Virgil reminded her. “Thanks to you.”

  “I know.” Hannah scowled. “Still, there must be some way to narrow the list.”

  “For starters, I imagine that you can eliminate any man who wasn’t reasonably affluent at the time,” Virgil said. “After all, no point blackmailing someone who can’t afford to pay.”

  Rafe was intrigued. “You’re right. That might cut the list down a little.”

  Hannah frowned. “If he was rich enough to pay blackmail, chances are he would have been wealthy enough to be invited to the political reception up at the institute that night. But if he was there, he’s also got a solid alibi.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Rafe said slowly. “The institute was crowded that evening. Everyone who was anyone in Eclipse Bay was there. Someone could have slipped away long enough to murder Kaitlin and then returned to the reception with no one the wiser.”

  “I don’t see how you could possibly ascertain that information,” Virgil said quietly.

  Rafe glanced at Hannah. He knew they were both thinking the same thing.

  “There just may be a way to do that,” he told Virgil.

  “Indeed?” Virgil looked intrigued. “Fascinating. You do understand that under normal circumstances I would not even consider providing you with this list. But given what you say may have been an attempt on your life, Ms. Harte, I will try to help. There is just one thing I would like for you both to keep in mind.”

  “What’s that?” Rafe asked.

  “When it comes to blackmail,” Virgil said very seriously, “there are sometimes others besides the victim who have a motive to kill the blackmailer.”

  Hannah’s brows snapped together. “Such as?”

  “Such as anyone who has a great deal invested in the victim,” Virgil said.

  Rafe looked at him. “Hell, do you think maybe we should be looking at all the wives of these guys you know who like to run around in lacy unmentionables?”

  “Never forget the old saying about the female of the species being just as deadly as the male. The wife of a prominent, wealthy, or powerful man who could be brought low by blackmail would certainly have reason to get rid of a potential threat to her future income and position.”

  They all pondered that for a moment. Then Virgil turned away and walked to the counter. He picked up a pen and started to write names down on a sheet of yellow paper.

  Hannah moved closer to Rafe and lowered her voice. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking about how to figure out who might have left the reception and returned between midnight and two?”

  “A.Z.’s logbooks.”

  “Yes.” Hannah watched Virgil. “You know her better than I do. Think she would let us look at them?”

  “I might be able to talk her into it.”

  “But, Rafe, even if we come up with a good suspect, what can we do with the information? Officially there was no murder, and we don’t have anything that resembles proof.”

  “We’ll work on that part after we get the good suspect.”

  They stood in silence for a while, waiting for Virgil to finish his list. After a time Rafe got restless. He wandered over to a pile of padded leather handcuffs. He picked up one and examined the Velcro fastener.

  Hannah gave him the same sort of look she had given Winston when he tried to investigate the condom wrapper out in the parking lot.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said.

  Mitchell settled into the overstuffed easy chair with a familiar sense of contentment. The chair had been new and a little stiff a year ago when he had first started visiting Bev on a regular basis. But he had spent a lot of time in it during the past months, and the leather upholstery had shaped itself to his body. It was comfortable and welcoming. Sort of like Bev herself, he thought.

  But there was a lot mor
e to Bev than warmth and comfort. There was stimulation, both mental and physical. He loved to argue with her. Loved to play cards with her. Loved to go for long walks along the river with her. She made him feel good in ways that no other woman ever had, not even in the wild years following the breakup of Harte-Madison when he’d chased the illusion of passion the way other men had chased wealth or fame, or adrenaline.

  Bev walked into the living room with the coffee tray. He turned away from the view of the river to look at her. A deep pleasure reverberated somewhere inside. There was wisdom and warmth and laughter in her eyes. Her own personal standards were high, always had been. But unlike some folks he knew who had made it this far in life, himself included, she was not inclined to judge others harshly. She accepted people as they were.

  A fine figure of a woman, he thought, watching her pour the coffee. Bev was a great believer in vitamins and exercise, and the results were obvious. There was a healthy, energetic aura about her. She had not magically escaped the common chronic problems that came with the years. Six months ago he’d noticed the bottle of blood pressure pills in the kitchen cupboard above her sink. There was another bottle of tablets for the relief of arthritis in her bathroom, the same brand his own doctor had prescribed for him. But Bev’s natural optimism and zest for living subtracted years from the calendar.

  She had always had an instinct for style. Today her silver hair was swept back from her forehead in a short, sophisticated bob. She wore a good-looking black-and-white pantsuit that accented her healthy figure. Little silver rings dangled from her ears.

  She smiled and handed him a cup of coffee. “How are things going over there in Eclipse Bay? Are you and Rafe getting along okay?”

  “As well as we ever did.” Mitchell sipped the coffee. Just enough sugar and a splash of milk. Bev knew how he liked it. “Better, maybe. But he’s still one stubborn, muleheaded son of a gun.”

  Bev took her seat and crossed her legs in a graceful, unconsciously feminine movement that sent a whisper of anticipation through him. A few months back, his doctor had written another prescription for him, one that worked hydraulic marvels. He and Bev had gotten a lot of use out of it lately.

  “Sounds like a chip off the old block,” Bev said.

  “Why the hell does everyone keep saying that?”

  “Probably because it’s true.”

  He bristled a little. “Well, I’m working on seeing to it that Rafe doesn’t make all the same mistakes I did.”

  Bev chuckled. “A worthy project. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’m gonna need it.” He frowned. “He’s carrying on with Hannah Harte.”

  Bev’s brows rose in surprise. “Carrying on, as in having an affair with her?”

  “That too. It’s Isabel’s fault. If she hadn’t left that damn house to both of ’em none of this would have happened.”

  “What exactly has happened?”

  “I just told you—they’re sleeping together.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Hell, everyone in town knows it.”

  “Hmm.” Bev tilted her head slightly to the side as she contemplated that information. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you. Isabel was a very, very smart woman. She probably knew what she was doing when she drew up that will.”

  Mitchell grunted. “Maybe yes, maybe no. Either way, it all comes down to the same thing. Rafe’s carrying on with Hannah, and her family hasn’t got a clue. When Sullivan Harte finds out, he’s gonna shit…uh, he’s gonna blow his top.”

  “Rafe and Hannah aren’t kids anymore. They’re full-grown adults. They’ll make their own decisions.”

  “Huh. Far as I’m concerned, Rafe’s already made his, and he’s by God gonna follow through if I have anything to say about it. Hannah’s a nice young woman, even if she is a Harte. If he thinks he can fool around with her and then walk away, he’s got another thing coming.”

  Bev peered at him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Are you saying you feel Rafe ought to marry Hannah?”

  Mitchell balanced the cup and saucer on the broad leather arm of the big chair. “Yep. That’s exactly what I think.”

  “Since when did you become such a zealous believer in old-fashioned morality?”

  “Since I started watching the two of ’em together. You ought to see the way he looks at her, Bev. Damn near painful.”

  “What about Hannah?”

  “She looks at him the same way. Thing is, they’re scared to death of each other.”

  “You think you can play Cupid?”

  “Figure it’s my responsibility to straighten things out.” Mitchell looked at the river. “I put my son, Sinclair, through hell when he was a boy. Set a real bad example. Sure enough, he turned right around and did the same thing to Rafe and Gabe. I figure it’s up to me to stop this cycle before it goes on to another generation.”

  “And you’re going to do it by marrying Rafe off to Hannah?”

  “If I can.” Mitchell paused to take another swallow of coffee. “But before I can see about getting Rafe to the altar, I’ve got to help him and Hannah fix another little problem that’s come up.”

  “What’s that?”

  Mitchell looked at her. “Rafe has convinced himself that someone may have tried to kill Hannah and her dog a couple of nights ago.”

  Bev’s shock left her mouth hanging open for a few seconds.

  “Are you serious?” she finally managed.

  “On the surface, it looks like some bastard tried to drown her dog, but Rafe thinks it may have been an attempt to get Hannah, too. He’s sure it’s got some tie back to what happened to Kaitlin Sadler.”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” Bev sputtered. “Kaitlin’s death was an accident. Everyone knows that. And if it had been something worse, heaven forbid, why would the killer make a move against Hannah now?”

  “Ever since Rafe and Hannah returned to Eclipse Bay to sort out the business with Dreamscape, there’s been talk. Some of it is about the fact that they’re carrying on together, naturally. But some of it is about the past. Rafe and Hannah have started asking questions themselves, and now, what with the incident involving the mutt, they’re beginning to dig a little deeper.” Mitchell met her gaze. “To tell you the truth, I’m afraid they just might uncover some old bones that would probably be better off left buried.”

  “But Rafe, being Rafe, won’t listen to your advice to leave well enough alone, is that it?”

  Mitchell shrugged. “He never did listen.”

  “So you’ve decided to help him look into the matter?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  Bev studied him for a long moment. Then she gave him a knowing smile. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? I think you like the idea of playing Dr. Watson to Rafe’s Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Be the first thing Rafe and I have done together since he was a kid.” Mitchell was aware of an oddly wistful feeling. “We got along pretty good for a few years after he and Gabe came to live with me. But from the day Rafe hit his mid-teens, he and I locked horns. It’s been a little better in the past few years, but it’s like we’re walking on eggshells. Doesn’t take much for either one of us to set the other off. My fault, I reckon.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Mitch. You did all right by your grandsons. Sinclair wasn’t much of a father to his boys.”

  Mitchell gripped the mug hard. “That’s because he had me for an example.”

  “The point is that after your son’s death, you stepped in and did what you had to do. You stopped your running around—”

  “Well—”

  Bev chuckled. “All right, let’s just say you cut way down on your running around. You paid attention to the job of raising Rafe and Gabe, and neither one of them has screwed up his life. I’d say you did okay.”

  Bev always had a way of making him feel better about things, Mitchell thought. She had a way of giving him a slightly different perspective.
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br />   “Let’s get back to the reason you’re here.” Bev put her coffee aside and sat forward. “You say you want to help Rafe find out what really happened to the Sadler woman. But what if there isn’t any conspiracy to uncover? What if Chief Yates was right about her death being an accident?”

  Mitchell shook his head. “I started into this thinking that Rafe and Hannah were going off the deep end. But now I’m not so sure. Bev, you knew everything that Ed knew about the goings-on in Eclipse Bay, and Ed knew a hell of a lot. If I said that there’s a possibility that Kaitlin Sadler might have been having an affair with someone who wanted to keep it a big, dark secret, do any names come to mind?”

  “Kaitlin got involved with more than one married man.” Bev made a face. “She was not very popular with the ladies of Eclipse Bay, I can tell you that.”

  “How about if I throw in some dirty movies and some female underwear in a man’s size? Does that narrow the list a bit?”

  Bev angled her chin. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.

  Mitchell waited.

  “Unfortunately,” Bev said slowly, “there is one name that does come to mind. Ed once told me about some rumors he’d heard shortly before Kaitlin’s death. Naturally he ignored them. Ed was an old-fashioned kind of journalist. Unlike this modern bunch, he didn’t believe in printing the details of people’s sex lives on the front page of a family newspaper.”

  Mitchell could feel himself getting revved up. This investigating business was fun. He was starting to understand why Rafe was so eager to poke a stick into this particular varmint hole. “Can I have the name of this guy Ed didn’t want to put on the front page?”

  Bev hesitated. “I’ll give it to you, but it won’t do you any good. He has an ironclad alibi for that night.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I can vouch for his whereabouts that evening, as well as the whereabouts of most of the rest of the good, upstanding citizens of Eclipse Bay.”

  “Well, shoot and damn.” Disgust replaced the anticipation Mitchell had been savoring. “Don’t tell me you saw him at that reception up at the institute that night?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Bev replied. “Still want the name?”