“Naw. We had enough excitement down the station the last month what with Bella and Tommy’s till bein’ broken into, and Bee Lawry bein’ found, and a fender-bender down over on 213 with some drunk tourists, that I decided to give myself the day off.” Joe Tettmueller was the chief of the two-member police force in Damariscotta.
The two men trudged down the incline, carrying a large cooler suspended between them, Cady tramping through the brush in a zigzag toward the lake. “Yeah,” Ethan said as he tossed the tackle box into the small dinghy. “That’s too bad about Belinda. I wish’t you’d have called me.”
“Sorry, buddy. You’re right. I shoulda done that. I just figured when you’re down to Princeton, you don’t want to be bothered with what’s going on up here.”
“Not true,” Ethan told his friend. “I’m more interested in what’s up here than what’s down there.”
“So you seen her niece here in town?” Joe smirked as he yanked a baseball cap down on the top of his buzzed head. “She’s pretty hot, and now she’s loaded, too.”
Irritation flitted through Ethan as he turned to step into the softly rocking boat. “Maybe hot looking, but an ice-cold ballbuster underneath. Besides, I don’t think Penny would take too kindly to hearing her husband talk that way.”
Joe actually looked a bit frightened at the thought, then his face shifted into a grin that matched his drawl as he stepped into the boat. “Naw, Ethan, I’m not looking for me—I’m looking for you. How long’s it been since you and Meghan split up? Two years? You’ve had that—what’d ya call it?—moratorium thing going on for long enough. You got t’be mighty lonely in that big old cabin.”
“Don’t be an ass, Cap. My cabin’s not that big, and yes, I’m still staying far away from any females. Especially that viper Diana Iverson. Cady and I are just fine all by ourselves.” Without waiting for his friend to sit, Ethan shoved the boat away from the dock with enough force to set it rocking. “Besides, she’s got a boyfriend.”
Cap glanced at him from under his brim as he sat down abruptly. “Sounds like you had a bit of a run-in with the lady lawyer. What happened? She didn’t seem that bad to me.”
Ethan chose a pole and unlatched the hook from its moor through one of the rings. Digging into a Styrofoam carton of rich black soil, he pulled out a squirming worm and wove it onto the hook. Then, setting it down, he gave the oars two powerful strokes before replying. “When did you have occasion to meet her?”
“At the funeral.”
“You went?”
“Yeah—I found ol’ Bee, and it didn’t seem right not to go.” He baited his own hook as he added as hastily as he ever did, “Not that I wouldn’t’ve not gone anyway, yannow.”
“I didn’t know what happened until I showed up at Belinda’s house the other night, and surprised the hell out of Diana.” His mouth quirked at the memory of her prune lips. The humor vanished and, after giving one more long, sweeping row, Ethan folded the oars back into the boat and looked out over the sparkling lake as they slowed to a mere drift.
Joe Cap slipped the anchor into the water with a minor splash and, with a quick flick of his wrist, sent a long, smooth cast over the lake. The fishing line glinted like a cobweb in the sunlight, then settled over and into the depths of blue.
“So you found her, huh?” Ethan’s line soared in a different direction, and was followed by a third and fourth cast … then all was peaceful.
“Yeah. She didn’t show for a doctor appointment, and Reardon got worried and called the station. I went down and got into the house and found her. Poor old woman—die alone like that.”
It was a shame Belinda died by herself, and a damn good thing Joe Cap’d found her so quickly. “She died in her sleep is what Diana told me.”
“Yep, so it appeared.”
“At least she didn’t go through any pain.”
“Nope. Hope not.” Joe’s attention was not fixed on the two fishing lines he owned, nor was it on the cooler through which Ethan had begun to rummage.
His statements sounded even less solid than usual, and Ethan noticed. “Everything all right, Cap?”
“Mm.” He thought about it for a moment, staring out at the lake. “She had a heart problem—documented in her medical records. There was no sign of struggle, of forced entry, of robbery … but something don’t seem right about it. It’s been bothering me … but I dunno what it is.” He sighed, then abruptly jerked to attention when one of the silvery lines shivered. “Got one!”
Quick as a flash, he grabbed the pole and began to manipulate the reel—in and out, in and out … pull’em in … slowly let it out—in a natural rhythm that echoed the lapping of waves against the boat.
Ethan’s line twanged, and he snatched the pole just as a third line began to bob in the water. Over shouts of glee and good-natured cursing, they worked the lines in the familiar pattern well into the afternoon.
~*~
The wind rushed through the Lexus’s moon roof, tossing Diana’s hair with the same abandon as her mind zipped through her thoughts. She was cruising at a speedy seventy miles per hour along Route 1, north from Portland, after dropping Jonathan off to catch his late afternoon flight.
As she maneuvered the car around smooth curves and up and down slight inclines, Diana considered the other question that had been brooding in her mind all day: Was it possible? Had Belinda been murdered in her own bed?
And could it have been Ethan Tannock?
Keeping her lawyer hat on, and refusing to allow her dislike of the man to color her thoughts, Diana considered the situation. First of all, she was basing this on a dream. A mere dream.
Yes, a terrifyingly real one. One that she’d had every night since she arrived in Aunt Bee’s house, even though she hadn’t recognized it for what it was. And she’d awakened with a certainty that even she couldn’t shake, using her logical, science-based mind.
If it were true, then … who could have done it? And why?
Obviously, Ethan knew her well—well enough to walk into her house uninvited for a visit … unless, if he had killed her and he knew she was dead, he walked into the house intending for Diana to think he had that kind of freedom.
But he knew where the house key was hidden—so obviously Belinda had trusted him. Tapping her finger against the steering wheel, Diana frowned. Poor Aunt Bee … so gullible and trusting to be taken in by a pretty face.
But then … now that she was dead, Tannock’s source of money would also be gone, for Diana knew he hadn’t been named in the will. She, Diana, and the local animal shelter, were the only beneficiaries. So what motive was there for someone to kill Aunt Belinda if they weren’t going to inherit any of her money?
Ethan had been friendly to Diana—but not overly so, as if he were trying to inveigle his way into her good graces in order to keep the flow of money going.
She grimaced. If he had meant to cozy up to her, he’d definitely blundered that part of it, for it seemed he only knew how to rub her the wrong way. And aside from that, he had an almost accusatory hint in his eyes at times when he looked at her, as if he found something about her as distasteful as she did about him.
But, then … the way he’d been studying her at the Grille last night had caused her fingers to become clumsy and her heart to pump just a little faster. When he didn’t think she noticed, when she was busy trying to dig herself out from the hole he’d dug for her with the quilting group, she’d caught a look on his face. It was as far from distasteful as one could get. It was … thoughtful … heavy … avid.
Her heart fumbled a beat at the memory. That was a dangerous look, coming from a dangerous man.
So caught up was she in her train of thought that she almost missed the turn-off for Route 213. Slowing the car, she made the turn and forced her thoughts onto a different track. As she tooled along the two-lane road, Diana looked to her right and was able to see glimpses of the dark blue of the Damariscotta River, which widened into Damariscotta Lake further nor
th, where Aunt Belinda’s house was. The sun was low in the sky, and dropping nearly as quickly as she was driving. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to see the water at all.
The forest was so dense along the lake that the houses were completely private—you couldn’t even see the lights of a neighbor’s house at night. Diana didn’t mind the isolation, but as she turned onto the dirt lane that led to the house, she realized just how far away from civilization she was.
Ethan Tannock lived on the lake too, and from their brief conversation on the day he’d driven her home, she knew that he lived very close by. He took the same dirt lane that she did, but when it made a triple fork near the lake, she turned right and he turned left. Nevertheless, there was no more than a half-mile between their houses.
Somehow, the thought that Ethan Tannock lived so near by both relieved and unsettled her.
The Lexus’s headlights cut beams through sudden, enveloping darkness as the car bumped down the road through the forest. The intermittent winks of fireflies broke the solid black, and twice she saw reflections of the eyes of some critter crouched by the side of the road. Of necessity, she drove slowly—between the potholes, the curves of the road, and the possible intrusion of deer, she had no choice but to do so. Bugs collected, thick and angry, in the lights, and as a result splashed onto the windshield like raindrops. So much for late-night swimming, Diana mused, shuddering at the thought of moths, mosquitoes, and deer flies swarming around her.
It was nearly pitch-black by now, and Diana was thankful that she’d left a porch light on, as well as two lights in the house.
When she came to the fork in the lane, she tossed a glance toward the darkness where Ethan’s house would be and was surprised and, to be honest, relieved to see the faint glimmer of light through the forest. He was closer than she’d realized.
Now, she turned onto the tire-track lane that led to Aunt Belinda’s house. Driving required her full attention, as tree limbs brushed into the car’s path and the ruts were enough to jounce the car like a rough boat ride, even when the vehicle crept along at five miles per hour. At last, she pulled up a slight incline into the clearing. The white clapboard house, with its three gables and large wrap-around porch, sat in the center of an open area surrounded by trees. In darkness.
Diana pulled the car up next to the dark house and stared, her heart lodged in her throat. She was certain she’d left the lights on—on the porch, and in the den and kitchen. Hesitantly, she turned off the ignition and sat in the car for a moment, unease pattering along her spine and kneading her stomach.
Why was she so creeped out?
Steeling herself, telling her odd nervousness to go away, she slowly opened the car door. Perhaps she’d meant to turn on the lights, and had forgotten. But, no, she distinctly remembered going into the den to turn on the lamp just before she walked out the door to take Jonathan to the airport.
The power could be out. She wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not.
Diana grasped the door handle and pulled the latch to open it, stepping hesitantly into the night air. There hadn’t been a storm, but perhaps there was another reason for a power outage.
The darkness of the forest hovered at the far edges of the open yard, and she glanced up to see the glittering display of stars. The Milky Way and a quarter-moon lit the clearing nearly as well as a porch light would, increasing her flagging courage. She muddled through her key ring and located the key to the front door, then grabbed her bag and stepped lightly up the porch steps.
It was a bit of a struggle to fit the key into the lock, shadowed as it was, and once the key slid into place, she had to rotate it one way, then the other, and back again before the knob would turn.
Finally, the door caved open into the dark house and Diana stepped in gingerly, her heart still doing odd things in her chest. She felt along the wall for a nearby light switch, and just as she turned to flick it on, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.
Whirling, she gasped and screamed at the sight of the murky silhouette, which froze. Then it was a flurry of movement, rushing toward her. A powerful shove sent her slamming full-force into the wall and the impact knocked all of the breath from her body. Diana slid to the floor, bracing for another blow as she blindly grasped for something to use as a weapon. But the intruder dashed past her—out the open door, stomping across the wooden porch and thudding down the steps.
Shaking, nauseated and terrified, Diana managed to struggle to her feet in time to rush to the door and see a figure dashing into the woods … into the woods toward Ethan Tannock’s house.
CHAPTER FIVE
A full, fierce anger swept over Diana, and all of her nervousness slid away. That jerk!
Without a second thought, she picked up the keys, turned on the foyer light, and slammed out the front door. Not even bothering to lock it behind her, she ran down the steps, gripping the key chain, her lips tight and her eyebrows puckered so firmly that her head started to ache.
This was going to stop.
She yanked the car door shut behind her to punctuate her fury and determination, and cranked the key so far that the engine ground for a split-second before it caught. The tires spewed gravel from the drive into the air, raining onto the porch as she turned the Lexus around and started down the winding lane.
Driving much faster than she had on her arrival, Diana had little care for the scrapes and nicks her beloved gold car would get from the tree branches. She was that incensed. And as furious as she was, she remembered to feel alongside her seat for the can of pepper spray that she always carried with her—just in case.
Although she had never been to Ethan Tannock’s home, she knew where it was and turned down the curving drive that could only lead to his doorstep. When her car rounded a sharp corner to face a closed garage entrance, she slammed on the brakes and turned off the ignition, leaving the keys in the car, and jumped out.
Blind fury drove her as she stalked around the side of the house, the can of pepper spray at the ready, into the small clearing … and stopped short.
Two men had turned to gape at her. They stood near a smoking grill. A floodlight illuminating the yard clearly indicated that they were in the midst of preparing to eat. The luscious scent of grilled steak permeated her anger, as did the casual demeanor of the men and the fact that neither of them were breathing heavily from a dead-heat run. Nor were they dressed in black.
“Well, now, Ethan, you didn’t tell me we were gonna have company for supper,” drawled one of them in a voice that she vaguely recognized. “Who is that?”
Wishing that the earth would open up and swallow her, Diana forced herself to start forward nonchalantly, crossing her arms over her chest to obscure the pepper spray.
When she stepped into the illumination, she heard Ethan’s soft exclamation. “Well, well. Diana Iverson, what are you doing here?” He started toward her slowly, looking at her with an expression that indicated total shock and wariness.
Not the most welcoming of greetings, she thought wryly, focusing on anything but how incredibly stupid she felt. But under the circumstances, it was not unexpected. “I—uh ….”
Words failed her, and stuck even further in her throat when she actually looked at him. Her gaze became trapped, fixed on a shirtless, muscled, darkly-haired torso that looked like it belonged to someone like David Beckham. Diana swallowed, jerking her attention away so that it bounced down over his swim trunks, to legs that matched his abdomen in physical perfection, and finally up to a stony, set face.
“Is there something I can help you with?” His voice was calm, but irritation glinted his eyes. “Unless you normally go speeding up someone’s driveway like the hounds of hell were after you, on your way to a neighborly visit.”
The man didn’t have to like her, but he didn’t have to be so rude either, Diana thought desperately—conveniently dismissing her own previous rudeness. Hoping for assistance, she glanced at Ethan’s companion for the first time, and suddenly
recognized him with a flood of relief. “Captain Tettmueller, I’m so glad you’re here!”
He stood, unfolding a tall, lanky body topped by a worn baseball cap. Spiky, straw-colored hair stuck out from around the hat in endearing little curls, giving the grown man a boyish look. “What can I do you for, Ms. Iverson? Is ever’ thing all right?”
Suddenly, the impact of what she’d experienced rushed over her and, as her surge of angry adrenaline dissipated, weakness flooded her body. What a stupid thing to do, she thought numbly.
Ethan must have seen something change in her demeanor, for he snagged a lawn chair and swung it to a place right in front of her. “Sit down, Diana. Do you want something to drink? Obviously something’s wrong,” he added, glancing at his friend.
“Yes, yes.” She began to babble—something she knew she was doing, that she hated herself for, but she couldn’t help it under the circumstances, and poured out the whole story.
The Cards of Life and Death (Modern Gothic Romance 2) Page 8
