Share No Secrets

by Carlene Thompson

  Ruby Fincher paused but continued to stare straight into the camera, her moon face reddened by excitement, her blue eyes bright and avid. Clearly, she was having a difficult time not smiling for her audience. She did not look the thirty-five she claimed to be, but she did look like she was having the time of her life. The woman who had found the grotesquely battered body of Margaret Taylor was a media star and enjoying every moment of it.

  Ruby vanished. On came the lovely news anchor still looking grave. “Officers say Ms. Taylor’s house did not appear to have been broken into, nor were there signs of burglary. Police are conducting an intensive investigation. Although they have several suspects, no arrests have been made.”

  Skye continued to stare quietly at the television while Adrienne sat with her mouth open for a few seconds. Finally, she recovered, closed her mouth, swallowed, and said, “That Fincher woman was a disaster.”

  “No kidding,” Skye agreed. “And did you see that picture of Margaret with Uncle Philip? They looked like they were in love. Now it won’t just be Aunt Vicky who thinks Uncle Philip and Margaret were having an affair.”

  “How do you know what Vicky thinks?” Adrienne asked, surprised.

  “Rachel told me. But I knew anyway. Aunt Vicky always watches Uncle Philip really close and she gets all jumpy and weird when Margaret is—was—around.” The anchorwoman was now babbling happily about a cookout being held for charity. While she talked, the station showed some truly awful video footage of people lumbering slowly around a picnic table heaping food on paper plates, then stuffing their mouths. Adrienne thought that newspeople always seemed to pick out the biggest eaters for such shots, giving the impression the town was populated by gluttons.

  “I bet Miles Shaw killed Margaret,” Skye said abruptly. “He’s so strange. He totally creeps me out.”

  “Did you ever see Margaret with Miles?” Adrienne asked, because Skye had spent much more time at the Hamilton household in the last few months than she had. “Did he come to any of the parties?”

  Skye shook her head. “None that I went to. Rachel said her dad doesn’t like Miles. She thinks that’s probably why Margaret didn’t want Uncle Philip to know she was dating him.”

  “Oh.” Adrienne made a decision. “Don’t tell Sherry and all your friends. Don’t tell a soul, but I talked to Lucas this afternoon. He said he questioned Miles, and he has an alibi. He was at this place called Heaven’s Gate—”

  “Door, Mom. Heaven’s Door.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Gosh, Mom, everyone’s heard about it. It’s the place to be if you’re older and cool. But go on.”

  “Anyway, Miles was at Heaven’s Door at the time of Margaret’s murder. He was there for a couple of hours. A lot of people saw him. He’s kind of hard to miss with his height and his hair.”

  “Yeah, I guess he is.” Skye thought this over. Then she looked at Adrienne earnestly. “I promise not to tell anyone, Mom, but I still think he did it. Somehow, he killed Margaret and he’s gonna get away with it.”

  After the evening news ended, Adrienne had a feeling of expectancy. It lasted through the huge pizza they had delivered from Fox’s Pizza Den and devoured with their usual record speed. It lasted while Adrienne watched an unfunny situation comedy and Skye had an extended conversation with Sherry, whom she had not seen for an almost unbearable twenty-four hours. It lasted through Adrienne’s attempt to burn off nervous energy by rearranging contents of the kitchen cabinets and forcing an offended Skye to go to bed to make up for her postmidnight bedtime the previous night.

  At eleven o’clock, as Adrienne sat on the patio soaking up the cool night breeze, the phone rang. Adrienne knew the bad thing she’d tensed for all evening had finally arrived with the summoning of a telephone.

  She ran into the house, not bothering to close the patio doors, and picked up the phone receiver. After she said hello, a short pause followed. Then a scratchy, thin voice asked, “Adrienne?”

  “This is Adrienne Reynolds.” The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. “To whom am I speaking?”

  A small, rusty laugh. “Adrienne, dear, it’s Lottie. Julianna’s mother.”

  “Lottie!” Adrienne burst out. “Lottie, we’ve all been worried sick about you.”

  “I’m quite all right. I told Kit I would be. You shouldn’t have been worried.”

  “Where are you?”

  Another pause. “I’d rather not say.”

  “But Lottie—”

  “Please, dear, let’s not waste time worrying about me. I have someone else’s safety on my mind, and something I feel I must tell you. The time has finally come’

  “Lottie, let me bring you to my house. Then you can tell me what you need to.”

  “No, Adrienne. You must let me do this my way, or I won’t do it at all. I don’t mean to be difficult, but I have my reasons.”

  Adrienne sighed, feeling helpless, but Lottie was in control now. There was nothing Adrienne could do except to go along with her. “Okay, Lottie. You have my full attention.”

  “You’ve always been such a good girl, Adrienne. Skye is fortunate to have you for a mother.”

  “I think she might disagree with you on that matter right now. I’m enforcing a bedtime.”

  Lottie chuckled, then coughed. Adrienne started to ask again if she could pick up Lottie, but she’d already been given her orders, and she knew Lottie could be inflexible when her mind was made up. She didn’t want to annoy the woman and have her hang up. “I’m sure Skye will forgive you by morning,” Lottie finally said when the cough subsided. “And now for the reason I called. I heard today that Margaret Taylor was murdered. I met her once when I was at your sister’s house and Vicky was buying candles from me. More candles than she needed, I’m sure, but Vicky is a generous soul. I can’t say the same for Miss Taylor. I didn’t care for her. Nevertheless, I’m sorry she came to such a tragic end. But I also learned that Miles Shaw is, as I believe they say, the prime suspect in her murder.” Lottie paused, then said emotionally, “Adrienne, Miles did not murder anyone.”

  “We don’t know that, Lottie.”

  “I know it.”

  Adrienne knew Lottie had always been fond of Miles. She’d been heartbroken when Julianna left him, and Adrienne had understood Lottie’s disappointment Although Miles was eccentric and off-putting to many people, Adrienne never doubted he’d genuinely loved Julianna, and he’d been a stabilizing influence on her tempestuous, impulsive, often reckless nature. But Adrienne’s opinion of Miles had changed over the last four years. His manner had grown biting since the breakup, his behavior changing from eccentric to erratic. Adrienne didn’t trust Miles anymore. She no longer felt she knew what he might be capable of doing.

  “Lottie, the sheriff told me Miles admitted to having an affair with Margaret,” Adrienne said gently. “He even admitted to being with her the night she was murdered.”

  “He did not kill her, Adrienne. Miles doesn’t have murder in him.”

  “Lottie, how can you be sure?” Adrienne braced herself for a harsh question. “For that matter, how can you be sure he didn’t murder Julianna out of jealousy because she had a lover?”

  “I am sure,” Lottie said emphatically. “Miles loved Julianna. He hated the man she was involved with at the time of her death, but he didn’t hate her.”

  “Miles knew who Julianna’s lover was?” Adrienne burst out. “Do you?”

  Silence seemed to vibrate over the phone line for a few moments. Then Lottie said reluctantly, “Yes, dear, I know who it was.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Only because the situation has escalated to the point where I think you need to know.” Lottie drew a deep, slightly raspy breath. “I’m sorry to tell you that Julianna was having an affair with your brother-in-law. Philip Hamilton.”

  2

  Adrienne carried the cordless phone receiver into the living room and sat down in the studio chair a
cross from the picture window, far away from Skye’s room, where she could talk without being overheard.

  “Lottie, if Philip was having an affair, it was probably with Margaret He barely knew Julianna.”

  “That’s what most people think, Adrienne. That’s what Julianna and Philip wanted them to think. But the truth is quite different. Julianna met Philip when you girls were young and he was engaged to Vicky. Julianna and Philip fell in love then, dear. They’ve been in love ever since.”

  Adrienne was astounded. She remembered how she, Kit, and Julianna had hovered around Vicky, enraptured by the idea of her marrying a handsome, wealthy young man in a beautiful ceremony followed by a lavish reception at la Belle. They’d gotten on Vicky’s nerves, but she’d been so happy, she’d endured their constant presence, endless questions, and squeals of delight. And Adrienne remembered Philip drifting in and out of the frantic preparations, seeming not to notice anyone in particular. Not even Vicky, now that she thought of it.

  “But Julianna was so young,” Adrienne said desperately, trying to cling to the hope that Philip’s love for her friend was only the product of Lottie’s imagination, yet realizing in retrospect that something had been wrong. Philip had not acted as a loving fiancé should. And dredging her memory, Adrienne recalled that his gaze had seemed locked on Julianna more than a few times. Still, Adrienne did not want to believe what she was hearing. “Lottie, if Philip was in love with Julianna, why did he marry Vicky? Was it because Julianna was too young for marriage?”

  “The problem wasn’t age,” Lottie said sadly. “It was background. Lineage. Julianna was the daughter of Butch and Lottie Brent. We were hardly members of the Social Register set. Philip had had political aspirations since he was a boy. That Tartar of a great-aunt—Octavia, I believe her name was—began his indoctrination early. Vicky came from a fine family. She was lovely, intelligent, and low-key with infallible manners. I don’t believe she ever made a social misstep in her life.”

  “She didn’t,” Adrienne said flatly. “I believe she had the same aspirations as Philip. At least she did at the time they married. I don’t think the life she dreamed of turned out to be as golden as she’d hoped.”

  “Life often has a tendency to disappoint us. Or rather, most of us. Julianna could have turned out like her sister Gail—bitter that she didn’t have better parents, more money, more respect in this town—but she didn’t. Julianna had a wonderful gift for making the best of things and doing it joyfully. It’s no wonder to me that Philip loved her.” She paused, then said quickly, “I meant no offense to Vicky. She’s a lovely person.”

  “She can be a lovely person, but she’s not exciting and ebullient like Julianna was. And certainly not as glamorous.” Adrienne paused. “When did Julianna’s affair with Philip begin?”

  “It really was nothing more than sweet encounters and love letters until Julianna returned from New York. That’s when things became … physical,” Lottie said uncomfortably before emitting another rattling cough. “Juli felt guilty about it and ended things for a while. That’s when she married Miles. But Miles couldn’t make her happy. So she left him and resumed the affair with Philip.”

  “Did Miles know about Philip?”

  “I’m not sure. If he did, he never said anything to Julianna. She would have confided in me.”

  “Lottie, why are you telling me all of this now?”

  “Because I’m worried about Miles. The sheriff loves you. You have influence with him. You can talk him into leaving Miles alone.” Lottie clearly overestimated Adrienne’s power over Lucas, especially because Adrienne wasn’t convinced of Miles’s innocence, but she didn’t have a chance to argue before Lottie went on in a weak, breathy voice. “Adrienne, I want you to know that Julianna did not like betraying your sister. She suffered over her duplicity. But she loved Philip so much she couldn’t seem to help herself. He claimed to love her just as much. He told Julianna that after he became governor, he would leave Vicky and marry her.”

  “Leave Vicky and marry Juli?” Adrienne repeated in disbelief. “Lottie, I don’t know what Philip told Julianna, but he would never have done that. His aspirations don’t end with being governor. He intends to someday run for president. Dumping his wife for a woman he’d been having an affair with for years would be political suicide!”

  “I know. And Juli knew, too. She just wanted to be with him, even if it had to be in the shadows. But she pretended to believe him.”

  Adrienne’s hands went cold. What if Philip hadn’t known she was pretending? What if he’d believed Julianna was intent on having him no matter what she had to do to get him? If so, she would have been a liability, perhaps a liability from whom he might have done anything to free himself. Maybe even murder.

  Adrienne suddenly felt uneasy about Lottie. More than uneasy. Downright apprehensive.

  “Lottie, you’ve been playing hide-and-seek long enough,” she said strongly. “I want to come and get you. You don’t sound well.”

  “I have a little cold, nothing serious.”

  “It could be pneumonia.”

  “Heavens, no!” Lottie’s voice had grown thinner and rougher. “I’m just fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “But I am worried, Lottie. Please tell me where you are.”

  Lottie hesitated. “No. Absolutely not. I only called to help Miles. I can take care of myself.” She seemed to choke, then broke into a violent fit of coughing. Finally gasping, she tried to catch her breath.

  “Lottie, I mean it. You’re sick.”

  “Nooo.”

  “Lottie, where are you?”

  “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. After I do my laundry.” Lottie had begun to sound vague the way people did when they were feverish. “I haven’t done laundry this week. There’s no excuse for bad housekeeping …”

  “Lottie, are you there?” Nothing. “Lottie?”

  Lottie did not speak. Adrienne strained to hear if the woman was breathing, meaning she was still holding the phone, but all she heard was a familiar tinkling sound. Gentle. Melodic. Wood and metal. Glass.

  Wind chimes! Suddenly Adrienne remembered the collection of wind chimes hanging from the porch of Lottie’s cabin. She must have stopped at home to make her call to Adrienne and left the door open although a wind was blowing up.

  Adrienne said the woman’s name loudly into the phone three more times and finally heard a rasp of breath, but no words. She feared Lottie had collapsed. She’d spent several nights outside, one in that awful storm that had hit the night of Julianna’s death. Her only shelter had been the terrible bunker Ellen called the Hideaway. Now Lottie was probably seriously ill. And alone.

  “Skye!” Adrienne called loudly. “Skye, come here!”

  The girl arrived in an instant Clearly she hadn’t been asleep and now sensed distress in her mother’s voice. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Lottie.” Adrienne held up the phone receiver. “She called me. She sounded really sick. Then she just stopped talking but she didn’t hang up. I’m fairly sure she’s at her cabin.”

  “Let’s call 911!”

  “We can’t Lottie has been hiding because she’s scared. A call to 911 would go out over the police scanners. Half the town has them. Whoever Lottie is hiding from could hear and get to her before the paramedics do.” Adrienne paused. “I don’t want to hang up this phone and break the connection with Lottie, so get your cell phone. We’ll call Lucas on his private line, not at headquarters. Those calls go out on the scanners, too. I’ll tell Lucas to go to Lottie’s.”

  In less than a minute Skye was back with the cell phone in hand and Brandon at her heels. “Do you know Lucas’s number?” she asked anxiously.

  “After a year of dating? I think so,” Adrienne said dryly. She punched buttons, hoping desperately Lucas was at home. Relief rushed through her when he said hello. “Lucas? I think we have an emergency that I need for you to keep to yourself. No notification through official channels. It’s
important.”

  “Good God, Adrienne, what is it?” he asked tensely. “Are you and Skye all right?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure Lottie is. She called and I think she’s at her cabin, but she sounded extremely sick, then she stopped talking. She could be unconscious. I don’t want to call 911 because I don’t want her to be frightened.”

  “So you want me to go to her.”

  “Well, yes, but I want to get to her first. She’s afraid of just about everyone, Lucas. Including you. If I go to the cabin, I can calm her, or at least hold her hostage, until you get there and help me take her to the hospital. Would you be willing to help me do that?”

  “I’d be willing to help you do just about anything, Adrienne, but I’m not sure it’s safe for you to be up on that hill in the dark after all that’s happened lately.”

  “I’ll be fine. I don’t intend on spending the night. I just need a twenty-minute head start, and your promise that you won’t call the paramedics.”

  “She might need the paramedics.”

  “She doesn’t need her location broadcast over police scanners just in case she’s right and someone is out to kill her. She’s not crazy or paranoid, Lucas. I have a feeling she knows who killed Julianna, and the murderer knows she knows.”

  Lucas hesitated, then said, “All right. I’m not leaving you alone for long, though. I’m starting out for Lottie’s in twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you, Lucas,” she said sincerely. “You’re a wonderful man.”

  “Yeah, so they say.” He paused. “I love you.”

  “See you soon,” Adrienne said quickly and clicked off, feeling guilty to the depths of her soul.

  After Adrienne said good-bye to Lucas, she turned to Skye. “I’m not going to risk taking you with me up on that hill. It could be dangerous.”

  “You can’t go alone, Mom! I’m not a little kid. I won’t get in the way or get hurt.”

  “I can’t take that chance.” She briefly thought of taking Skye to Vicky’s, then immediately rejected the idea. After all, Philip might be the person Lottie had been hiding from for days. He could be Julianna’s killer. And so could Vicky, her mind said reluctantly. If Vicky knew about Philip and Julianna, she might have done the unthinkable to her rival. “I’m going to leave you here alone. I want you to turn on the security system as soon as I leave. Don’t go to the door for anyone besides Lucas and me. Not even Aunt Vicky. And if someone calls, don’t tell them you’re alone. Say I’m in the shower or something. Promise.”