“Be careful, Philip.” He threw a startled look at Adrienne. “Everyone is right. Someone could still be in the house. Take Brandon with you.”
“Brandon!” Skye cried. “No! He could get hurt!”
Philip paused, then raised an eyebrow at Adrienne. “I guess some people consider it better to sacrifice me than the dog,” he said dryly.
“Considering the way you’re acting, it’s no wonder,” Adrienne returned.
Rachel dropped a piece of glass from her ruined wind chimes and headed upstairs. Skye started to follow, then stopped. “I think she wants to be alone,” she whispered to Adrienne as Philip started down the hall. “Her dad hurt her feelings. I never heard him talk to her so mean before.”
“He’s upset.”
“Mom, sometimes I don’t get why Aunt Vicky married him. He’s such a grouch when he’s not in front of all the people he thinks are important and might vote for him.”
“I know, honey. But he didn’t use to be that way. When Vicky married him, he was charming and funny. A little bit arrogant, but still an agreeable person. He even liked me” Skye grinned. “I can’t imagine what’s happened to him over the years. But we’re not going to worry about Philip now. You and Brandon stay and protect me and Vicky.”
“I need a drink,” Vicky said suddenly. “Want one, Adrienne?”
“No. They gave me some kind of painkiller at the hospital. And I don’t think you should have one, either. The police might smell it on your breath.”
“To hell with them.” Resolutely, Adrienne and Skye trailed after Vicky into the kitchen and watched her mix two shots of vodka into a small glass of orange juice. As she took a large gulp, Adrienne wondered if alcohol was becoming a problem for her sister.
Fifteen minutes later, two deputies arrived. Every light was on, inside and outside, and Adrienne had caught sight of neighbors peering from their windows even though it was two-thirty in the morning. Vicky sipped a second drink and sat at the kitchen table, the earlier alarm in her blue eyes dulling to an indifferent glaze. Adrienne called Lucas and put on a pot of coffee while Skye hovered near the small kitchen television, ostensibly watching an old movie while keeping out of the way.
As the city deputies searched the house, Philip stalked after them, with loud, nonstop hectoring. Adrienne knew someone less influential than Philip Hamilton would have been told to sit down and stay out of the way while the deputies did their work. Which is exactly what Lucas Flynn did when he arrived. He took Philip aside and talked with him earnestly. After a couple of minutes, Adrienne could see some of the tension ease from Philip’s rigid face and shoulders. For a man like him, she guessed, merely having the county’s chief law enforcement officer present at his little drama would make Philip feel better.
Shortly afterward, Lucas had a moment alone with Adrienne. “I didn’t find out until about eleven o’clock what happened to you on the street this evening. God, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll live. But I did come here to spend the night because I thought I’d be safer. So much for my infallible judgment.”
Lucas shrugged. “You couldn’t have guessed this would happen. The security system wasn’t turned on and there’s no sign of a break-in. Any idea what’s going on here?”
“You mean it was an inside job?” Lucas’s mouth quirked at her language. She ignored his amusement. “Do any of us strike you as likely suspects, Sheriff?”
“For breaking wind chimes and blasting a boom box in the middle of the night? Not really.”
“Nothing was taken?”
“Not according to Philip.”
“Lucas, this is even stranger than it seems. Those candles are the same scent as the ones that were in Julianna’s room at the hotel. And the song playing on the boom box was ‘Sweet Dreams’ by the Eurythmics. That has been Julianna’s favorite song for twenty years. She played tapes and CDs of it, and she sang it all the time.” Suddenly Adrienne felt as if Julianna were running one of her long, cool fingers down her neck, filling her with a terrible feeling of dread.
“Lucas, someone knew I’d immediately connect the candles with finding Julianna’s body. And they knew I’d associate ‘Sweet Dreams’ with Julianna,” she said urgently. “The song wasn’t a random selection.”
He looked at her in concern. “Then why was it being played in this house?”
“Because somebody is watching me and knew I was here tonight.” Unconsciously, she reached out and clutched his wrist. “Lucas, that song was meant as a threat to me”
2
Although the police left within the hour and everybody went back to bed, Adrienne doubted if anyone got any sleep. By six o’clock, everyone except Vicky was up, all in varying degrees of tired grouchiness except for the irrepressible Brandon, who seemed to have found the evening’s uproar vastly entertaining. His mood improved even more when at six-thirty the housekeeper, Mrs. Pitt, arrived and, after fixing breakfast for the humans, gave him a big slice of ham with scrambled eggs and a freshly baked biscuit.
Just as Adrienne was popping a piece of warm, buttery biscuit into her own mouth, Margaret arrived, a well-dressed whirlwind, asking questions about the break-in, taking notes, firing orders to everyone present about what should and should not be said to reporters, whom she referred to as “vultures.”
Rachel looked at her sourly. “It’s so nice to know you think of me as a vulture, Margaret.”
“I don’t. You’re just a summer intern on a local paper, not a real reporter,” Margaret returned with cold dismissal.
Rachel clattered her fork on her plate and pushed her chair away from the table. “I’ve had enough.” She glared at Margaret. “Of breakfast and you. As far as I’m concerned, you can—”
Adrienne interrupted loudly. “Mrs. Pitt, will you fix a pot of coffee for me to take up to Vicky?” Rachel stomped out of the kitchen, throwing a murderous look at Margaret. “And maybe a couple of those delicious biscuits, too.”
Mrs. Pitt, a middle-aged woman cursed with a face that looked like she’d bitten into an unripe persimmon and blessed with the disposition of an angel, nodded and smiled. “Coming right up,” she said as she retrieved a thermos and breakfast tray from a cabinet. “Mrs. Hamilton is partial to my biscuits.”
“Where’s Vicky?” Margaret demanded. “Is she sick?”
Adrienne bristled at her tone. “Vicky was tired after the party last night and the break-in certainly didn’t help. She didn’t sleep a wink.” Adrienne had no idea whether or not Vicky had slept, but she felt protective of her sister in the face of Margaret’s aggressiveness. “She needs to spend the morning in bed.”
Margaret huffed with impatience at this frailty on Vicky’s part, but before she had a chance to say anything, Philip intervened. “I’m not feeling on top of the world, either. Let’s take this morning off, Margaret”
She looked at him as if he’d just ordered her to strip naked. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and her whole body registered shock. ‘Take the morning off? The entire morning? He nodded. “Philip, have you forgotten the Woman’s Club luncheon? We need to go over your speech. And I want to bring you up to speed on that new sewer project in Baker County.”
“If there’s one thing I can’t bear to talk about this morning, it’s a sewer system,” Philip groaned as he poured a third cup of coffee. “And I know my speech, although I’m cutting down on some of the statistics you added.”
“Are you saying women are bored by statistics?” Margaret asked stiffly.
“I’m saying that at this kind of gathering, everyone is bored by a barrage of statistics. It’s a luncheon, Margaret, not a corporate board meeting.”
Margaret’s carefully colored lips compressed in annoyance. A slim foot encased in an expensive taupe pump tapped on the vinyl kitchen floor. “Maybe you’ll feel more like working in an hour or so.”
“Maybe,” Philip said offhandedly. “But I don’t think so. After all, Margaret, we’re leaving day after tomorrow for the northern part
of the state. Even though I have this luncheon, I need the afternoon and evening to rest. We’ve had a hectic schedule for the past couple of months.” Adrienne noticed that he looked deeply tired, as if all his natural dynamism had drained away during the night.
“Vicky will rouse herself to go on the trip north, won’t she?” Margaret asked testily. “It’s important for her to be by your side.”
“She knows that and of course she’ll go,” Philip said. “Rachel will stay here since she has a job, so at least you won’t have to put up with her since you two don’t seem to get along.”
Margaret looked offended. “I try to get along with Rachel. She is the problem.”
“Whatever.” Philip glanced at his gung-ho assistant. “Since you have so much energy this morning, Margaret, you can give Adrienne and Skye a ride home.”
“Take them home?” Margaret couldn’t hide the dismay in her voice. “All the way home?”
Philip looked exasperated. “No, Margaret, I thought you could drop them at the corner and maybe they could hitch a ride to their house. Yes, all the way home.”
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. It’s just that I have so much to do.” Margaret sighed. “All right. Since you don’t want to work, I might as well put my time to good use.” She paused, her gaze falling on Brandon who was scooting his bowl around the kitchen, trying to get the last morsels of food. “You want me to take the dog, too?”
“I don’t think Skye is inclined to give him up.” Philip managed a small smile for Skye. “So, yes, the dog will go, too. Soon. I can tell Adrienne and Skye are anxious to get home. We didn’t offer them a very peaceful night.”
“Fine,” Maigaret said shortly. She shot a glance somewhere just past Adrienne’s head. “Ready to go?”
Adrienne hadn’t considered leaving yet, but Philip was obviously in a hurry to clear his house of her and Skye. And especially Brandon. He couldn’t hide his impatience. “I’m not even dressed, Margaret,” Adrienne said. “Give us twenty minutes.”
Exactly twenty-three minutes later Margaret hustled them into her car. The rain had stopped hours ago. The sky was cloudless and, in the morning sun, the grass and flowers looked bright and renewed. As they pulled out of the driveway, Adrienne exclaimed, “Isn’t it a beautiful morning?”
“I suppose,” Margaret said flatly.
“I think it’s a beautiful morning, Mom,” Skye said dutifully.
Adrienne looked at the stone-faced Margaret. “I’m sorry to put you out like this. I’ll be glad to pay for having the inside of your car detailed if Brandon has gotten hair on the upholstery.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Margaret said curtly. Her plans for the morning had gone haywire and she wasn’t taking the change well. Flexibility wasn’t one of her strong points, Adrienne thought, both amused and annoyed. “A long-haired dog is terribly messy, though,” Margaret added. “If you must have a dog, a poodle is best. They don’t shed.”
“Well, now, isn’t that just fabulous for them?” Adrienne shot back sharply. Margaret’s jaw tightened, but there was nothing Adrienne could say to take the sting from her words. She decided to leave well enough alone.
Afterward, only the sound of Brandon’s panting broke the silence on the uncomfortable three-mile drive home. Adrienne felt like whooping with joy when they turned onto her street until she saw two patrol cars parked in front of her house.
“Good God, now what?” Margaret burst out.
Adrienne leaned forward in her seat, as if a closer look could make the certain sign of trouble disappear. But the patrol cars remained. She saw Lucas standing on the front walk.
“Mom?” Skye said tentatively from the backseat.
“Lucas is here,” Adrienne answered. “Everything will be all right.”
Adrienne didn’t know what was wrong, but having the sheriff on the scene lowered her fear level a notch. Margaret pulled into the driveway and sighed. “I’ll wait to find out what’s wrong.”
“You don’t have to, Margaret. I’m sure there’s nothing you can do to help.”
“Philip will need to be informed of the current problem.”
I see. You’re not staying because of us, you’re staying because of Philip,” Adrienne returned sharply. “He’s always your number one concern.”
Margaret said coolly, “I get paid to make him my number one concern.”
I just hope making him your priority is professional, not emotional, Adrienne thought, but kept her mouth shut. Now certainly wasn’t the time to start an argument with Margaret.
Adrienne got out of the car as Lucas walked up to her. He looked tired and a bit rigid around the mouth, the way he always did when he was under strain. “What’s happened?” she blurted before he had a chance to say anything.
“A city deputy cruised past this morning. He knew about your mugging and that you’d spent the night at your sister’s, but the front door was wide open, so he stopped to take a look. He knows about our relationship so he called me as well as the other city cops. We haven’t had time to do a thorough search, but your place has been tossed.”
‘Tossed?”
“Searched. There doesn’t seem to be any real damage, so vandalism wasn’t the cause, and theft appears to be out because your televisions, VCR, DVD player, and stereo haven’t been touched.”
“Searched,” Adrienne repeated, then fell silent for a few seconds to process the information. Then it hit her. “The camera! Someone was looking for the camera with the pictures I took at the Belle!”
Lucas raised his eyebrows. “What pictures are you talking about?”
Adrienne went to Margaret’s car, opened the back door, and withdrew her denim jacket. “This was soaked so Margaret gave me her raincoat and I threw my jacket in the backseat and forgot it.” She plunged her hand into the inner pocket. “Here it is!” She held up the Olympus Zoom 170 and boomed triumphantly, “It’s been in Margaret’s car all night. Not at my house, not at Vicky’s!”
Lucas stared quizzically at her, then said calmly, “Will you please slow down and explain to me what this camera has to do with anything?”
“You’re too excited, Mom. I’ll tell it.” Skye sounded remarkably mature and composed. She stood by her mother, holding tightly to Brandon’s leash. “When we were at the Belle yesterday morning, Brandon was running around in the woods and I was chasing him. Mom said she thought she saw someone—not me—hanging around in the woods. So she took photographs.”
“Why?” Lucas asked.
“Because she believed the person might be a thief and she would have gotten a picture of him so you could identify him and catch him. I didn’t really see anyone, but I felt like someone was in the woods, too.”
Adrienne stepped in. “After we found Julianna, I thought I might have gotten a picture not of a vandal but of her murderer. I was taking the camera to Photo Finish when I was mugged. I think the mugger was after my camera.”
“Because the mugger was the killer,” Skye added unnecessarily.
“You believe that same person raided the Hamilton house last night when they didn’t find the camera in your purse?” Lucas asked.
“Yes. And before or afterward, he searched my house. Since my house wasn’t robbed, it makes perfect sense.”
Lucas nodded slowly. “Yes, it does.” He reached out. “I’ll take that camera and get the film developed. It’s not safe for you to have possession of this any longer.”
Adrienne handed him the camera. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it yesterday. I was so rattled after we found Julianna.”
“I didn’t think you were trying to withhold evidence,” Lucas said with a smile. “But you surely got yourself in trouble by not giving it to me yesterday morning.”
“I doubt if whoever killed Julianna would have known if I had given you the camera unless he was still watching me. But I feel better having it out of my possession.” Adrienne cast a gloomy look at her house. “I guess I’d better go in and see how much
damage has been done.”
The floribunda bushes on either side of her front door looked radiant in the morning sun. Adrienne drew in their strong, sweet scent as if it could fortify her. The thought of a stranger pawing through the contents of her home made her feel even more violated than the attack last night.
She stepped inside and found that entering her own home felt like an assault on her vision after spending time in Vicky’s subdued house. The living room contained an explosion of yellow, rose, ripe peach, and blue furnishings—some modern, some antiques, some makeshift creations of her own like the coffee table with a huge block of amber glass for a top and faux books for sides. Cushions now lay on the floor. Drawers hung open, their contents spilled. Magazines and books lay in heaps and a potted plant had been turned over, leaving dirt on the carpet. The room was a mess, but nothing appeared to have been broken. The same was true of the kitchen and dining room, but it was only the contents of one room that brought panic to Adrienne’s heart. Her studio.
She dashed down the hall to the mid-sized bedroom with corner windows she’d converted into her workroom. She expected to see a catastrophe. Instead, a studio easel stood near the windows holding a fresh canvas she’d just stretched and primed, intending to use for her painting of la Belle Rivière. The oil painting she planned to show at the French Art Colony Summer Gala sat on another easel beside the wall. It had been there for two weeks, drying, and to her great relief, it hadn’t been defaced. On a long worktable, all her tubes of oil paint were still arranged in neat lines. There was no sign that someone besides herself had been in the room except the open worktable drawers and a sketch of Skye that lay on the floor undamaged.
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