An uneasy feeling knotted deep in his gut. “How did this go from a story Chelsea told you to this? What are you trying to say, Marie?”
“Just that. I’ve been contacted by a spirit. I didn’t want to believe it myself at first. But it’s real.”
He shook his head.
Marie slumped back in the love seat. “You don’t believe me. You haven’t even heard what I have to say, and you don’t believe me.”
“I’m just trying to get this straight.” He didn’t have a clue what to think. This whole conversation was so unlike Marie. She had a romantic streak, yes. But she always seemed to have her feet firmly planted in reality. She was like her father in that way. “The ghost you saw. It was your father?”
“I didn’t see a ghost. I heard a voice. I smelled a scent.”
He went cold inside. Memories of their argument at the police station popped into his mind. The way Marie had insisted Charlotte had been murdered. She couldn’t be leading where he feared she was. She wouldn’t. “It was your father, right?” Please let it be Edwin.
“I tried to contact my father. I couldn’t reach him.”
“Then…” He couldn’t ask. He didn’t want to know.
“Brandon, it was Charlotte.”
“The jasmine.”
“Exactly.”
“It was a scent, Marie. Just a scent. Charlotte lived here for ten years. It isn’t unheard of that the house would still smell like her.”
“I didn’t just smell it here. I smelled it in Sophie’s psychomanteum.”
“How do you know the scent was Charlotte? How do you know it wasn’t from some other source? Jasmine isn’t common, but it’s not rare, either.”
“I heard her voice, Brandon.”
His heart stuttered. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Even though he had an idea of what Marie’s answer would be, he forced the question from his lips. “What did she say?”
“She said she was murdered. She said, ‘All Brandon loves will die.’”
He stared at the wall, the moldings on the ceiling, anything but Marie. The part about Charlotte saying she was murdered, he’d guessed. The other part…All Brandon loves will die. What did that mean?
“You still don’t believe.” Marie’s voice trembled.
Something inside him broke at the sound. He met her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Marie. I just…”
“You can’t.”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to absorb it. That’s all.” He turned away from her and strode the length of the room, the extra beat of his cane on the parquet making his footfalls sound as unbalanced as all of this felt.
Murder. Charlotte murdered. As much as he wanted to believe Marie, as much as he wanted to believe Charlotte hadn’t killed herself, that he wasn’t responsible for his wife’s death, he didn’t know if he could. “Who would murder Charlotte?”
“You tell me. Did anyone stand to gain from her death?”
“You mean financially?”
“Sure. Or other ways.”
He walked back to where Marie sat. The answer to her question was obvious and inevitable. “Me.”
Marie shook her head. “Who else?”
“No one else.” He thought for a moment. This whole exercise was so foreign to him. Murder? Motives? For crying out loud, ghosts? It was as if he’d fallen down some surreal rabbit hole. “Her mother is still alive. But she isn’t in need of money. And she adored her daughter. She was crushed when Charlotte died.”
Marie stared into the empty fireplace, deep in thought. “What if you died without having children? Who would inherit?”
“My uncle. He’s not in need of money, either.” Brandon took several steps and stopped. The words Marie had repeated, the ones she said had come from the ghost, whispered through his mind.
All Brandon loves will die.
His fingers tightened on his cane. Charlotte had died, only he hadn’t loved Charlotte. Not the way a man should love his wife. But…“What about this attack tonight?”
She met his eyes, unflinching. “I’m pretty sure my father was killed because he found something, something that proved Charlotte was murdered. Maybe the killer thinks I’ve found whatever that is. Or maybe he or she is afraid I will.”
There was one other possibility. One Brandon didn’t want to entertain. That a ghost’s warning was real. The ghost of his dead wife.
He finished his trek back to the love seat.
Arms wrapped around herself, Marie peered up at him, so pale, so fragile. Even though he knew she was strong as steel inside, he still had the urge to sweep her into his arms and take her far away. Somewhere she would be safe.
He wasn’t sure he could believe any of this. But maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe his role was simpler than that. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s not, Marie. But I know one thing. Whoever attacked you tonight, I won’t let him hurt you again. I promise you that.”
Chapter Ten
Marie had heard all about the ostentatious redbrick mansion Clifford Drake had built on the jut of Drake family land right across the small inlet from Drake House. She’d even seen it across the water. But none of that was the same as having it looming before her now, up close and personal.
Josef held the car door. Brandon climbed out and joined Marie on the sidewalk. “Here it is. The Manor at Drake Acres. Uncle Cliff’s answer to the fact that my father inherited Drake House.”
“It sure is big.” And red. The rich color of the brick glowed in the morning sun. His tall white pillars and three and a half stories’ worth of windows stretched up to the gabled roof.
“Big. Yes. I think that’s what he was going for. Bigger than Drake House, at any rate.”
Marie had to turn her head first fully to one side, then to the other just to take in the length of the place. Not easy with a sore neck. And she wasn’t even counting the garages and guest house and cabana. If she turned far enough, she could see stables, too, a few hundred yards beyond. The gardens surrounding the house were equally opulent. Last night’s rain and the humidity still hanging in the air made even the late autumn garden smell alive and lush.
“It might be big and fancy and new,” Marie said, “but it doesn’t have the beauty of Drake House. Nor the class.”
A smile flickered over his lips.
A corresponding flutter seized her chest, despite her efforts to clamp it down.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, really. I just…I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since I came back.”
The smile faded.
She wished she hadn’t pointed it out. But it was probably better this way. His smile only reminded her of better times. Times she couldn’t afford to think about now. She focused on the sprawling house. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Cliff has all the money he needs.”
“I was thinking about that. Maybe it’s not about money. Maybe it’s about the one thing I’ve got that he doesn’t. Drake House.”
Chills trickled down Marie’s spine. Could that be it? It seemed to make sense. “If you and Charlotte had children, Drake House would pass to them. But if you died without heirs, Cliff would finally get what he feels should have been his inheritance all along.”
Brandon nodded. “It’s hard for me to believe Cliff would take things that far, but I suppose it’s possible. He and my father defined the term sibling rivalry. Maybe it’s more about that than anything else.”
Unfortunately Cliff wasn’t home. After a brief exchange with the servant who answered the door, they followed his instructions and circled to the boathouse and long pier that reached into Chesapeake Bay. A lethal-looking speedboat bobbed in the water. A lethal-looking redhead lounged inside the craft.
“Brandon!” Isabella shouted from the yacht’s deck. She flipped her hair over one shoulder and sat up in the boat, giving her employer the benefit of her full attention and her electric blue eyes. She artfully ignored Ma
rie. “What a wonderful surprise. Are you coming out with us?”
Marie did her best to ignore the twinge of jealousy. Even in jeans and a leather bomber jacket, Isabella had the pin-up potential of a swimsuit model.
“We are here to have a word with Cliff.”
“You can chat with Cliff on the boat. Really, Brandon, it’s not an imposition to have one more. Cliff won’t mind, I’m sure. I feel like I haven’t seen you very much in the past few days.” She leaned forward in her seat. Her unzipped jacket parted to reveal a low-cut top framing ample cleavage.
Marie tried her best not to let Isabella get to her. It was obvious she had the hots for Brandon. And likely his uncle Cliff, or she wouldn’t be here on her day off. But whatever games she was playing with the Drake men, it wasn’t any of Marie’s business. She had to remember that.
Cliff emerged from the redbrick boathouse, a miniature mansion in itself. Dressed in a Burberry wind-breaker, a cashmere sweater and perfectly tailored slacks, he looked every inch the wealthy playboy he was. His thick hair had gained some gray since the last time Marie saw him, but the new look only served to add sophistication to his list of charms.
He nodded to his nephew. “Brandon.” Judging from his tone of voice, he wasn’t as excited to see his nephew as Isabella was. He eyed Marie. “And…Marie Leonard, right?”
Marie nodded. Cliff had always intimidated her growing up. He’d seemed so confident, carefree and in control of his life. A man who lived big and wasn’t ashamed to let the world envy him for it. He was the opposite of everything her humble, decorous father had instilled in her, and more than once she’d been totally bowled over by his presence. She could only hope now that she was an adult, she’d be able to handle him better. “Hello, Mr. Drake.”
“Call me Cliff, please.” He managed to look her up and down in a manner that was more flattering than intrusive. “You’ve grown up since the last time I saw you.”
Marie held his gaze. She wasn’t sure if Cliff’s once-over was meant to bother Brandon or Isabella or both. But whatever was going on, she wanted no part of it. “I have a few things I’d like to ask you.”
He raised his brows. “Sure. I’m glad you stopped by. I heard you were visiting Drake House.”
“Visiting? My father died.”
“Yes. A great loss. I’m so sorry.”
Surprisingly, his tone sounded sincere. Maybe there was more to Clifford Drake than she’d ever guessed. Or maybe he was just trying to throw her off balance. “Thank you.”
“You should come out on the boat. Racing over the water at high speed tends to take your mind off your problems. And it promises to be a lot more fun than hanging around old Brandon.”
“We came to ask you some questions,” Brandon said.
“Questions?” Cliff kept his gaze glued to Marie. “About what?”
“The recent deaths at Drake House. My father and Charlotte.”
Cliff finally glanced at Brandon, as if gauging his nephew’s reaction to his dead wife’s name.
Brandon didn’t move a muscle. Wavelets lapped against the pier’s pilings.
Cliff looked back to Marie. “Tragedies, to be sure. What makes you think I can tell you anything?”
“You’re part of the family. You live nearby.”
“I do live nearby, but if you hadn’t figured this out yet, the Drake family isn’t exactly close.”
Marie looked past Cliff to where Isabella was climbing out of the speedboat and onto the pier. Apparently she’d grown tired of being out of the spotlight and intended to take it back.
Marie gave Cliff a businesslike smile. “I know you have plans, so I’ll make this short.”
A lazy grin spread over Cliff’s lips. He glanced in Brandon’s direction and lowered one lid in a wink. “What can I say? I’m in demand.”
“What are you men talking about?” Walking up behind Brandon, Isabella slipped her hands onto his shoulders and started kneading his muscles.
Brandon stiffened.
Cliff’s easy smile faded. He shot Isabella a warning stare.
Isabella withdrew her hands and wormed her way into the circle, Brandon and Cliff on either side.
Marie shook her head. Let Isabella play her games. Marie had more important things to focus on. “Mr. Drake? Did you see either Charlotte or my father around the time of their deaths?”
“I told you, it’s Cliff. And yes, I saw your father a day or two before he died.”
Of the two, Marie would have guessed it more likely for Cliff to have seen Charlotte. Or at least to have noticed her. But six months was a long time. Maybe he didn’t remember, provided he didn’t have anything to do with killing her. “Where was my father when you saw him?”
“Near the harbor. You know that bed-and-breakfast called The Seven Gables or some such?”
“Sophie Caldwell’s place? Was he with her?”
“No. He was talking to that pain-in-the-ass developer. Perry. And let me tell you, your father didn’t look too happy.”
Marie could imagine. Shelley had said Ned Perry was trying to buy waterfront, including Drake House, and build condos. No idea would insult her father’s sensibilities more. “What about Charlotte? Did you see her before her death?”
“No.”
Marie and Brandon exchanged looks. He seemed to be as uneasy with Cliff’s answer as she was. The abrupt answer felt a little too quick, a little too pat. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Brandon eyed his uncle. “Charlotte died six months ago. That’s a long time.”
“You want an alibi?” Cliff chuckled, the sound more taunt than real laugh. “I was sailing. A regatta in the U. K. Stop by the yacht club. I’ll take you on the yacht that won and show you the trophy.”
Marie’s stomach sank. Beyond Cliff, she didn’t have much of a list of people who could benefit from Charlotte’s death. She had no leads. All she had were the words of a ghost. Words Brandon didn’t even believe.
Cliff narrowed his eyes on his nephew. “So why are you playing like this is some sort of murder investigation? I know about the vodka bottle. You might have been able to keep that part out of the papers, but I have my sources.” He shot Isabella a little smile.
The maid tilted her chin up and gave Cliff a frown. She laid a hand on Brandon’s arm. “I’m sorry, Brandon. I didn’t mean to say anything. Really I didn’t. I was just so upset that she would do that to you. She didn’t deserve what she had. Drake House. You. She didn’t deserve any of it.” Flirty lilt gone, Isabella’s voice rang with a hard edge.
Brandon’s lips flattened. “Isabella, stop.”
“It’s true. I was hoping you’d see it after she died.” The maid tilted her head in Marie’s direction. “And if you think this one deserves you, you’re going to be disappointed all over again.”
BRANDON HAD NEVER BEEN as glad to leave a place as he was walking back to the car from Cliff’s boathouse. Every moment of that encounter had been awkward and painful and teeth-grindingly frustrating.
“Did you hear the venom in her voice?” Marie asked.
“Isabella has a few issues.” To put it mildly.
“Issues like she wants to be the lady of Drake House.”
“Or The Manor at Drake Acres. I don’t think it matters much to her.” He let out a pent-up breath. “I think we’re going to need to keep an eye on her.”
“Do you think she might have killed Charlotte?”
“I don’t see it. She couldn’t have gotten Charlotte into the car and crashed it by herself.” He still wasn’t sure how anyone could have done that except for Charlotte herself. But since he wasn’t about to get into a debate with Marie about the existence of ghosts, he’d let that part slide for now. “Isabella could have gotten someone to help her. She’s good at convincing men to do things for her.”
“Men? Like who? Cliff was racing one of his yachts.”
“There are men besides Cliff.” They rounded the far corner of the house
and started toward the circle in front of the house’s grand entrance where his car waited. Josef spotted them and climbed out of the car. Brandon kept his voice low. “Take Josef. He lost his fiancée about a year ago. He’s got to be lonely. And he knows his way around cars.”
“You think Josef—”
“Or Phil Cardon.”
Marie frowned, as if searching her memory for the name. “The guy who works at Thornton Garden Center?”
Brandon nodded. “He has done some work at Drake House from time to time. And he worked on the gardens with Lexie. He was pretty interested in Isabella.”
“I can imagine. But was he interested enough to help her commit murder?”
Brandon shrugged.
“How about the guy from Drake Enterprises? The one who came to Drake House?”
“Doug Heller? I could see it.” Truthfully, he couldn’t see it at all. Any of it. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Charlotte was murdered. That someone he knew was responsible. Maybe he was just in denial, but this whole conversation with Marie didn’t seem real to him. More like a guessing game played purely for amusement. He was much more concerned with finding who had tried to kill Marie. “Do you think Isabella could have been the one who tried to throw you off the roof last night?”
Marie’s steps slowed. “Maybe. She’s taller than I am. And strong. I don’t know.”
“Maybe that’s what we should focus on.”
“I told you, I think it’s all related.”
He nodded. He was waiting for her to say that. “Think and know are two different things. And until we know it’s related and know who wants you dead, we need to keep our options open. I don’t want to overlook anyone.”
They walked for a moment without speaking, the click of their shoes on the brick path the only sound. The sun beamed down from a sky that seemed shockingly blue after the dreariness of the day before. Too bad their situation wasn’t as clear and pleasant as the weather.
“So what do we do?”
He wanted to suggest buying her a plane ticket, sending her back to Michigan where she’d be safe…and away from him. But he knew what her reaction would be. “Set some traps and see what happens.”
Christmas Awakening Page 9
