by Unknown
She clicked on a square that said “search” and rested her fingers on the keyboard, which looked much like the keys of a typewriter. Now, whom should she look up? Nick had already searched for her uncle and aunt, and Cassandra Brown. The only other person he didn’t check out thoroughly was her cousin Anthony.
Careful to hit the right keys, she typed “Anthony Carlisle.” A white page with many blue headings popped up, and her hopes dropped. What did I do wrong? Abigail scratched her head and studied the screen, then tried again. This time, she typed in her cousin’s name and then “Carlisle fortune.” Immediately a different screen popped up with fewer choices than before. She clicked on each one, but none of the articles referred to her cousin. Clearly, there were many men with the same name.
Abigail tried one more time, typing in the year 1917. Finally, she found something about her cousin. It was her uncle’s and aunt’s obituaries, with Anthony named as their only survivor. That wasn’t what Abigail was looking for. She tried again and again, and just as she was ready to give up, she found a photograph of a couple, announcing an engagement. She remembered Nick clicking on the picture to enlarge it, so she did this a few times until she recognized the faces.
She gasped and covered her mouth. Standing next to Anthony was none other than Cassandra Brown. The elderly woman had denied personally knowing her father, Edward Carlisle, but she’d been engaged to his nephew Anthony. How could she not know Edward at all? Abigail suspected that Cassandra had lied when they had visited her in the nursing home, or that she was simply senile.
In her mind, Abigail pieced together what they knew about Cassandra. She’d married a man with the last name Westland. Obviously, she never married Anthony, although they were engaged. Abigail also knew that Cassandra was given the building as an engagement gift. What were the odds it was Anthony who gave it to her?
Abigail looked back through the other articles, but she didn’t find anything helpful. She closed her eyes and sighed.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and she turned toward the door, recognizing the rhythm of Nick’s walk. When he opened the door, her heart soared. She flew from the chair and ran into his arms. Before the door closed behind him, she had kissed him hard on the lips.
He laughed. “Did you miss me that much?”
“More.” She sighed and laid her head on his chest.
He stroked her hair, then led her toward his desk. “What did you do while I was away?”
“Researched my cousin. I found some very interesting information.” She pointed to the computer.
Nick’s eyes went wide. “You researched something on the computer?”
“Amazing, isn’t it? But I found out my cousin was engaged.” She waited until Nick rounded the desk. “To Cassandra Brown.”
Nick’s head jerked up and he stared at Abigail.
She nodded. “It shocked me too.”
“Maybe he was the one who purchased the building for Cassandra,” Nick said. “By then, his parents would have died, and he would’ve had the money.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Very interesting.” He sat on his chair. “And I wonder why she didn’t marry him.”
“The article didn’t say.” Abigail walked around the desk and sat on Nick’s lap. His hands circled her waist and he pulled her closer. “But I’m wondering if Cassandra used my cousin for his money.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Cassandra to do that,” Nick said.
He nuzzled Abigail’s neck and she sighed. “I think you were missing me, too.”
“You know I was.”
She pulled back and looked into his dark blue eyes. “I love you, Nick.”
“I know.” He smiled. “And it’s the best feeling in the world.”
Just as he brought his mouth down to hers, clicking of heels echoed through the corridor. Abigail knew that sound—Miss Swimsuit Model was back. With a groan, Abigail pulled away from Nick.
He sighed. “She really knows how to ruin the moment, doesn’t she?”
“More often than I like.” Abigail moved to the window and sat on the small seat.
He slid his chair closer to his desk just as Vanessa called, “Nicky? Are you busy?”
“Come in, Vanessa.” He leaned closer to his computer, pretending to read something on his screen.
She strolled in, wearing a tight pair of pants and a stretchy top that barely covered her. Abigail rolled her eyes.
Nick glanced up at the unexpected visitor, then back down at his computer. “Hello, Vanessa. What’s up? You’ve caught me in between clients.”
“I wanted to come tell you that my great-grandmother has been asking about you.”
“She has?” he exclaimed.
“Yes. She says it’s important that she talks to you.”
“Did she say when?”
“No.”
“Well, tonight is out of the question. I’m sure it’s way past visiting hours anyway. How about tomorrow? I’ll cancel some of my appointments if I have to.”
Vanessa shrugged and sat on the brown leather chair across from Nick. “I think tomorrow will be okay. I’ll call Grandmama and ask her.”
“I wonder what she wants to tell me.”
Vanessa arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Not only that, but she told me she wanted to meet you alone.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe she actually told me not to be there.”
Abigail giggled. Perhaps Cassandra’s mind was still sharp after all.
“Yes, that does seem strange. I wonder why,” Nick said. “Guess I’ll know tomorrow.”
Vanessa leaned forward on the desk. “I’d like to know what’s so important for her to see you and not me. Will you come see me afterwards and let me know?”
“I suppose I can.” Nick glanced at his Rolex and breathed a deep sigh. “Vanessa, I’ll call you to set up the time, but I have a client coming in a few minutes and I still have to prepare for this appointment.”
“This late?” she whined.
“It was the only time he could meet. I’m here for my clients, remember?”
Vanessa shrugged.
“Thanks for coming and letting me know about your grandmother.”
She nodded and stood. “All right, I’ll leave. Talk to you later.” She walked out of his office, swinging her hips in what Abigail thought was an exaggerated fashion.
Once the door closed, Nick turned and smiled at Abigail. She didn’t share his enthusiasm. How could she, when any moment she might lose him when she crossed over? But then she knew Nick. She knew this was what excited him—researching the case and finding answers.
He walked to her and embraced her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared, Nick.”
“Why?”
“Because Cassandra wants to see you. That means she knows something. And if she knows something . . .” Abigail’s bottom lip trembled and she blinked back tears.
He cupped her face as his thumbs traced her mouth. “I doubt she knows who killed you. I think she may just want to tell me other things she knows about your father.”
With a scowl, Abigail pulled away and folded her arms. “I still can’t believe she said that about my father. Why, the mere idea of him siring other children is just ridiculous! My father always took care of his responsibilities. He was a powerful figure back in that time, and he was a man that people admired. I can’t believe Cassandra would even think such a thing. Why, I was ready to throttle her when she said that. If I hadn’t touched her hand just then and felt you—”
“Shh.” Nick pulled her back into his arms. “I was shocked with what she said too. But it was just the cynical ranting of a feeble-minded old woman. And that’s why I’m not taking you with me when I go, Abby.”
Abigail gasped and pulled back. “You’re not taking me?”
“No. I don’t want you getting upset over nothing.”
“But what if it’s not nothing?”
“What if it is?” He
kissed her forehead.
She studied his tie, hurt that he didn’t want her there with him. Then she realized he was simply looking out for her best interests. If Cassandra said something Abigail didn’t like, she could explode and do something terrible, giving away her ghostly state. That certainly wouldn’t look good, especially for a respected man like Nick.
“You’re right. Forgive me for doubting your decision.”
He lifted her chin with his finger. “Promise you’re not mad?”
She smiled. “I could never be upset at you.”
“Good.” He kissed her lips. “Because I am going to keep you by my side forever, I promise.”
Deep in her heart, Abigail prayed he could keep that promise.
Thirteen
Nick didn’t tell Abby the time of his appointment with Cassandra; he just made an excuse to leave the building. During the drive to the nursing home, he wondered why Cassandra wanted to see him. The old woman was definitely hiding something from him. With a heavy heart, he prayed it didn’t have anything to do with Abby’s death. He couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation where she’d wondered if solving her murder would force her to cross over. Yet he knew Cassandra must have something important to say, and he felt he needed to hear it.
When Nick walked into Cassandra’s room, he thought he’d stepped back in time. If the television hadn’t been on in the corner of her room, he would have thought he was in 1912. Cassandra wore an old-fashioned dress similar to Abby’s, only made of cream-colored fabric and lace. The older woman’s hair was piled on her head, but she didn’t wear a hat.
Nick felt the tiny hairs raise on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right.
“Hello, Mrs. Westland,” he said.
The elderly woman looked from the window to him, her
expression full of sorrow. “Thank you for coming and granting a dying woman’s last request.”
He frowned. Vanessa hadn’t told him her great-grandmother was dying. Then again, Cassandra was 118 years old. Any day she could be on her deathbed.
“Why would you want to see me before you die?” Nick asked gently.
She motioned him closer. There were no chairs in the room, so he knelt beside her. She lifted a frail hand and placed it on his shoulder.
“I don’t believe in spirits,” she began with a shaky voice. “But when you were here the other day, I think my eyes played tricks on me a few times. Off and on during our conversation, I thought I saw a woman by your side. She knelt beside you.” Cassandra pointed to her styled hair and her long dress. “She was dressed like me.”
Nick swallowed hard. Perhaps Cassandra was close to death’s door and that’s why she was allowed to see Abby.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you a bit about my life,” the elderly woman said.
“Please do. I’m very interested.” His leg cramped from the crouched position, but he didn’t dare move.
“Times were hard for women back in the early 1900s. We were not taken seriously. Most men didn’t comprehend that a woman could actually think for herself. Then again, not many women wanted to because they were used to men doing it for them.” She thumped her fist against her chest. “I could think for myself. I knew what I wanted out of life, and I was tired of living like a pauper and being ignored.”
“I’m sure you were, Mrs. Westland.”
“A lot of people accused me of taking advantage of men.” She grinned at Nick almost wickedly. “I was quite the looker back in my day. Why, I was even lovelier than Vanessa, and she’s a model.”
He nodded. “From the pictures I’ve seen of you as a young woman, I agree. You were very beautiful.”
She played with the silver locket that hung from a long chain around her neck, and then she turned to stare at the bare wall. “You probably know by now that I was engaged to Anthony Carlisle.”
“Yes, ma’am. In fact, it was brought to my attention just today.”
“Most people thought I used Anthony for his money. He bought me things all the time. He was the one who gave me the building, which we turned into Cassie’s Gems, my jewelry company. Of course, after the stock-market crash of 1929, the store went under. We only kept a small portion of the business. We turned the building into office space after that, which you have probably already surmised.” She glanced down at the heartshaped locket on her chest. “My finances were in better shape after that. But not once did I use Anthony for his money.”
“Why didn’t you marry him then?”
The old woman’s gaze met Nick’s once more. “He was a spendthrift. That man was obsessed with money—he could never get enough.” She shook her head. “Greedy man.”
So far, Nick believed her. “That makes sense, Mrs. Westland.”
“Oh, but it got worse. Anthony gambled constantly, trying to double his earnings. He couldn’t. Nevada took most of it. I swear that man carried bad luck with him wherever he went. I was just relieved when he bought the building for me. If my name hadn’t been on the title, the building too would have been squandered.”
From everything Abby had told him about her cousin, Nick didn’t doubt Cassandra’s story. Now Anthony Carlisle was at the top of Nick’s suspect list. The question was, if Anthony killed Abby, did he also kill his own parents to get the inheritance?
“Anthony took a lot of things that didn’t belong to him. I thought he would kick the habit eventually, but I don’t think he ever did. If I remember correctly, he was in and out of jail for theft later in life.” She unclasped the necklace around her neck and handed it to Nick. “Anthony gave this to me long before we were engaged, but I knew it belonged to someone else.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I continued to wear it. Maybe because I wanted to believe there was some good in him after all. He told me he wanted me to have a piece of the Carlisle empire.”
Nick studied the heart-shaped locket, then pried it open. On one side was an old picture of a man. Nick brought it close to examine it, and his breath caught in his throat. Edward Carlisle!
Nick shook his head. “I don’t understand, Mrs. Westland. Why would Anthony give you a locket with Edward Carlisle’s picture in it?”
“I do not believe Anthony knew there was a picture in there. To him, it was an expensive piece of jewelry that belong to the Carlisle empire.” The elderly woman tapped Nick on the shoulder. “If you believe in ghosts, I think this necklace belonged to Edward’s daughter—the one who killed herself after his death. I think she’s following you because you’re researching information about her father’s building for your client.”
“You really think this is Abigail Carlisle’s necklace?”
Cassandra nodded as tears filled her eyes. “I do.” She rested her head on the back of the chair and gazed out the window, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Mrs. Westland, will you tell me why you don’t like Edward Carlisle? The last time I was here, I received the impression you were upset at him for something.”
“He cared for his daughter a great deal and didn’t have any room in his life for others,” Cassandra said cynically.
“But he owned a newspaper. Wouldn’t he care about his employees?”
“Probably. But he couldn’t bring himself to love anyone else.”
Nick frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Did you love him, and he didn’t return your love?”
The elderly woman sat in silence for a long time, and Nick stood and stretched his legs, not wanting to pressure her to answer.
Finally, Cassandra motioned toward the door. “I’ve said all I wanted to say. You can leave. I can die in peace now.”
He clenched his jaw, wondering why she wouldn’t tell him. “Thank you, Mrs. Westland. You’ve been extremely helpful.” Then he walked slowly out the room, hoping she’d call him back and answer his question. She didn’t. But Nick thought he knew who murdered Abby, and that’s all that really mattered.
When he left the nursing home, Nick hurried to his c
ar, anxious to show Abby the necklace. She’d talked about a locket her grandmother had given her on her birthday, and this could be that very piece of jewelry.
When he reached the office and parked his car, his heart felt as if it would beat right out of his chest. Abby didn’t want to know who’d killed her for fear she’d cross over. He didn’t want that to happen either. Perhaps he shouldn’t tell her what Cassandra had said about Anthony. There was still no real evidence, and since Nick was a good lawyer, he required proof before making his conclusions.
His shoes tapped against the wood floor as he walked to the elevator. The spacious building was quiet this afternoon. Strange, since this was usually a busy time of day for most offices.
During his short ride to the second floor on the elevator, a wave of dizziness sent Nick off balance, and he leaned against the wall. When the elevator chimed and the doors opened, he stepped out and took a few deep breaths, then loosened his tie and unfastened the first two buttons on his shirt.
He opened the door to his office and saw Abby jump up from the window seat. Her smile seemed forced, and Nick guessed she knew where he’d been.
“Did you miss me?” he croaked. His vision seemed fuzzy, and he wondered if was ill.
“Always.” She folded her arms across her waist.
He walked to the mini refrigerator to get a bottle of cold water, yet after he’d emptied half the bottle in one gulp, he still didn’t feel better. As he walked to his desk, it was like passing through a long tunnel. Finally, he reached his chair and sat.
“Is something wrong?” Abby asked anxiously.
Her voice sounded so far away. What was wrong with his hearing? “I wish I knew. I don’t feel very well right now.”
She sat on the edge of the desk and clasped her hands together. “Will you tell me about your visit with Cassandra?”
“There’s not much to tell. She confessed to being engaged to your cousin, and she told me Anthony gambled away the Carlisle money.”
