by Diane Noble
She blinked in surprise. It seemed the exterminators did know Clive Garfield after all. Either that or they’d become very chummy very fast.
Kate watched the interaction. Did they work for him? She crept closer, straining to hear their conversation. But the distance was too great, and with the compressor still making a racket, she couldn’t hear a word.
Then she leaned forward in surprise. What she assumed was some sort of poisonous gas must not have been at all toxic: Garfield and the two men, still chatting amiably, opened the door to the Victorian and walked in. Then why had one of the men been wearing a gas mask earlier? Something wasn’t adding up. Correction, she told her whirling brain: Several things weren’t adding up.
Kate weighed her options: (1) follow them inside and boldly announce herself to Garfield, letting him know she was not a cub reporter but had genuine questions about his identity, or (2) head to the library and get Livvy’s input on what she’d observed.
She had just turned to slip around the house to the back door, when she heard another vehicle arrive. She knelt behind a tall rhododendron in full bloom. A beat-up maroon van pulled to the curb and parked behind Garfield’s SUV. She didn’t recognize the driver, but she did recognize his passenger.
It was James Jenner.
Chapter Eight
Heart thudding, Kate reassessed her plan. Should she go inside and, for Livvy’s sake, eavesdrop on the conversation? Or was that violating some sort of code of privacy? Though the museum wasn’t officially open on Mondays, it was a public place. She had a right to be there, didn’t she? The answer was yes, in her book.
She saw nothing wrong with waltzing up to the front door and announcing her presence, asking her questions, assessing the meeting before making her exit. But slipping in the back to overhear the private conversation of employer and employees gave her pause.
Then she thought about James, his sunny personality that had turned into something quite different, and the fear in Livvy’s voice because she thought her child might be in danger. What if James was getting into something illegal or dangerous?
A desire to protect James made Kate’s decision clear. She stood up and brushed herself off, thankful the rhododendron blossoms hadn’t made her sneeze, and slipped around to the back door. It was unlocked, so she carefully turned the handle and entered the kitchen, then she tiptoed into the potted-plant jungle of a sunroom.
Again, she heard the creaking of footsteps moving around on the wooden floors upstairs. Rather than going through the kitchen, dining room and parlor to reach the stairs, she headed through the sunroom to the hallway just below them. A mix of voices floated toward her, but she couldn’t make out anything more than individual words: “wall...bedroom...closet...ceiling...plaster...camera two...stud finder....” Other than James and the gruff voice of Garfield, the identities of the others were indistinguishable. And their words, no matter who spoke them, could easily be attributed to instructions for security purposes. Or finding Mr. Rat on the Loose.
She sidled down the hallway in an attempt to hear better, then too late realized she’d moved right in front of a security camera. Its unblinking green eye beamed down on her, obviously having picked up her sidling into its range. All that, and she still couldn’t hear exactly what was being said.
With a sigh she turned back to the sunroom, crossed the tile floor to the kitchen, and reached for the back door handle. She pulled open the door and stopped, her jaw dropping in surprise.
“What are you doing here?”
It was Renee Lambert in full sleuthing garb, a khaki photographer’s vest with pockets full of emergency items—flashlight, matches, scissors, duct tape, a bottle of water, camera, sewing kit, and heaven only knew what else.
“Something’s rotten in Denmark,” Renee said. “I saw your car on my way to see Pastor Nehemiah but thought I’d stop and help.”
“You were going to wear this...um, outfit to the meeting?”
Renee shrugged. “I’d planned to snoop around on my own later anyway.”
Kate glanced at her watch: 9:54. “There’s really not much to see here. I was just leaving. You can still make your meeting with Pastor Nehemiah.”
Renee nodded. “We’ll continue this later.”
The two women let themselves out the back garden gate.
“Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you,” Renee said. “Guess who pulled up in front of the museum just as I came through the garden gate?”
“Who?”
She grinned as if delighted to know something Kate didn’t know. “Dr. Celine Diamante and Davis Carr.” An eyebrow shot up. “In that stretch limo.”
Before Kate could react, Renee trotted off to her decades-old pink Oldsmobile and fluttered her fingers good-bye as she settled into the driver’s seat.
Kate stood on the Town Green, behind the garden gate, looking back at the old Victorian. Two’s company, she mused, three’s a crowd, but my goodness, there were now enough people inside—all suspects, though of what, she didn’t know—to start a basketball team.
Chapter Nine
Kate came home to an empty kitchen. Paul was getting together with some of the other Copper Mill pastors for coffee at the Country Diner, a favorite eatery of locals, and Nehemiah was probably on his way to the meeting with Renee in Paul’s office at the church.
Nehemiah had left his laptop on the kitchen table with a note to Kate, inviting her to use the Wi-Fi connection for online research, e-mail, Webcam watching, or anything else she came up with. When she opened it, she found that he’d already set it up so she could go directly to the Internet. Icons of the various Webcam sites were lined up along the left side of the desktop screen.
Because it had become one of her favorites, she clicked on the Montserrat site, hoping to hear more of their glorious singing of the Psalms. The monks were nowhere to be seen, so she minimized the site but left the volume on the speakers turned up should they appear for prayers while she was doing research.
Nehemiah had mentioned that it was a big deal to be quarantined back in 1949, to have houses taped off with official signs stating that no one could enter or leave, except medical personnel. He’d also gone on to describe the quarantine, which stayed in effect until ten days after the last signs of the disease. And if an entire family became ill, one person after another, the quarantine might last for weeks, or even months.
Still curious about Davis Carr’s experience with his cousins the summer of 1949, she typed into the Google bar “1949 Copper Mill, TN, epidemics” and was just about to click on Go when the Webcam blinked on.
For half a heartbeat, The Enchanted Garden oil painting in the Victorian Museum filled the screen. Shadowy figures—all wearing white coats—as if they were medical personnel, or perhaps lab workers—scurried back and forth near the painting, moving too quickly for her to get a good look. Then the figures and the painting disappeared as the Webcam switched to another site.
Before she could react, the screen was filled with images from the Spanish monastery. Monks filed peacefully past an iron gate toward an ancient-looking building with tall carved wooden doors.
She sat back, trying to fit this piece of the puzzle into place. Trouble was, it didn’t fit. The museum wasn’t open to the public.
She answered her own question: People seemed to have been coming and going freely all morning. At least, the last she knew, the doors were unlocked.
She sighed. The people she’d seen at the museum earlier were obviously connected through the Davis Carr project. All had a reason to be there: the exterminators, the security people, and Davis Carr and Celine Diamante. Perhaps there was nothing sinister at all in their visit to the museum; they were probably just working out the security-system bugs before it opened to the public the following day. Even the people in white coats likely had a good reason to be there. Testing levels of poisonous gases perhaps?
A nagging question had bothered her since the first time she found the back door open: how experienced were
these security people? Why weren’t they at least mentioned on the Internet? An endorsement or two would make a difference. And why hadn’t they put up more Webcams? So far, the company seemed more fly-by-night than world class.
Putting aside Livvy’s fear for her son, all that made sense. But who were these latest people? How were they connected?
She stared at the laptop. Perhaps the greatest mystery of all was how Webcam signals halfway across the world from each other could get mixed up. Could it be that an unseen hand had taken over Nehemiah’s laptop? Could James have had something to do with it? It didn’t seem likely. He hadn’t even started his job at Safe Keeping when he helped Nehemiah set up his computer.
That wasn’t an impossible scenario. She’d heard of people calling their software’s 800 number for help, the techie on the other end of the phone asking for permission to access the computer to fix it, and then literally taking over—mouse pointer and all.
It took her less than a second to decide to head back to the museum for more nosing around. She grabbed her keys and handbag, climbed back into the Honda, and arrived at the Victorian a few minutes later.
This time there were no other vehicles in sight. Though as far as she knew, the monk had no car and might still be inside. She was curious enough, however, to throw caution to the wind and try the doors. The front door was locked, so she rounded the house and tried the back door.
It opened easily—much to her relief—though it wasn’t a great recommendation for Safe Keeping. She almost chuckled. No wonder they weren’t listed on the Internet.
The house was quiet, almost too quiet, this time. She realized that each time she’d entered, she’d heard the creak of footsteps elsewhere in the house. So when she opened the door between the kitchen and dining room...and saw a barely visible figure standing in front of her...she almost shrieked.
That was a half heartbeat before a cloud of Youth-Dew settled over her, and she realized that it was Renee Lambert.
“We meet again,” Renee said as if it was the most ordinary place to meet in town.
“Let my heart slow down, and then I’ll ask you what you’re doing here.”
They stepped back into the kitchen, where the light was better.
“But aren’t you glad I’m here?” Renee said with a small smile.
So far Kate could only think about how Renee had scared the wits out of her twice in one morning.
Renee patted one of her pockets. “Safe Keeping staff replaced my key, sent a special delivery boy to make sure I signed for it. Only a privileged few have been cleared to have one. Board members only, besides the Safe Keeping staff, of course.”
Kate couldn’t help smiling. “So that’s why the back door was left open.”
Renee’s eyes widened. “I left it unlocked?”
“That’s how I got in.”
“Well, of course I meant to,” she said, never having been one to admit her mistakes.
“Anyway, why did you come back? Actually, why did you come here earlier?”
“Because of James Jenner. He’s been trying to get a computer business started...and Mama decided a few weeks ago that her brain needed more exercise. So she contacted him about what kind of computer to buy, then had him set it up for her.”
“I’ve heard he’s good at that.”
“He is. And he was so patient with Mama, which, as I can attest to, isn’t easy. Taught her all the basics, and now she’s surfing the Web like a pro.”
“That’s great,” Kate said, then a light went on. “She’s not picking up a Webcam signal from here, is she?”
Renee frowned. “Picking up what from where?”
“The security cameras...Has she mentioned anything about seeing the museum—the new paintings—on her computer?”
“Goodness sakes, no,” Renee said as if that were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Then she blinked. “Are you?” Before Kate could answer, Renee hurried on. “I thought you were on dial-up. I didn’t think you could do much surfing or the Webcam thingie you were talking about—”
“Nehemiah’s got a stronger wireless signal and is able to use Faith Briar’s connection from our house. He’s the one picking it up.”
“The inside of this place? How can that be? We’ve got top security in place.” Renee’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What do you think is going on?”
Kate shrugged. “I don’t know. But a friend is worried about a family member who might be involved, so I said I’d check things out.”
“I can understand that,” Renee said. “I started to tell you about James. He’s the reason I’m here.”
“He is?”
“He was the kindest, gentlest, happiest kid when he was over at the house working with Mama and her computer. Now he seems to have turned into a different kid. Hardly speaks to us, wears that blank, sullen expression that a lot of teenagers get at that age. It was such a rapid change—after seeing him so chummy with that security-company CEO—that I decided to find out what’s going on. Sure wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley—the CEO, I mean.”
Renee checked her watch. “Oh dear, I must run. I’ve got a million things to do. I’m in charge of a new ladies’ club—just decided while I met with Pastor Nehemiah.” Her smile softened as she continued. “I’m calling it the Bee Attitudes, and I’m inviting all the ladies in town to join. So I’ll be home making phone calls if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Kate wondered if Renee’s visit with Nehemiah had smoothed her rough edges a bit. Renee headed to the back door, then turned to look at Kate.
“I was going to nose around. There’s someone else here.”
“I didn’t see any cars.”
“I have the feeling she was driven over, and her limo driver didn’t want to wait.”
“Dr. Diamante?”
Renee nodded.
“Did she see you?”
“No, though I’m sure the cameras did.” She chuckled. “The security folks should be here any minute—unless someone remembers I’ve got a key.”
Renee smiled, let herself out the back door, then poked her head back in and said, “Give my regards to Celine.”
Kate walked into the dining room again and paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the light. Then she walked to the doorway between the dining room and the parlor, peering in, giving her eyes another moment to adjust to the dimly lit interior.
At first it appeared the room was empty. Then she saw a slight movement to her right. Dr. Diamante was standing in front of The Enchanted Garden, apparently studying it very carefully. She held a small camera in her hand.
Her profile was visible to Kate, now that her eyes had adjusted. The woman scowled, obviously unhappy with something. She made some adjustments on her camera, then still frowning, started shooting close-ups of the painting’s lower right-hand corner.
Dr. Diamante jumped and exclaimed, “Well, I’ll be a mon—” as she caught sight of Kate walking toward her.
A monkey’s uncle? Kate finished for her silently. Celine had sounded almost Southern for a moment, although from her demeanor and precise speech on Saturday, Kate had assumed she was upper-class English.
Dr. Diamante flushed as the words left her mouth. “I have some American cousins,” she quickly explained, her perfectly modulated accent back in place. “They’ve taught me some of your, shall I say, more colorful sayings.”
She turned to look up at The Enchanted Garden again. Kate couldn’t help wondering if it was a natural segue or designed to take attention away from her slip into what sounded to Kate like a Southern accent.
Celine spoke eloquently about the oil, explaining that it had been missing for several years, then found in a farmhouse in Canada, of all places.
“I’ve been impressed with all three of these paintings,” Kate said. “Though they’re on loan, they’re still a priceless gift to our museum, to our town. They’re perfect for the setting, which is astonishing—their color, their style, and even thei
r size. It’s almost as though Davis remembered the layout of the house from his childhood here—”
Celine peered at Kate curiously. “I’m surprised to see you here. The museum isn’t open for visitors, actually.”
Kate shot her a disarming smile. “I just can’t get enough of these paintings. A friend who’s on the board let me in.”
Celine seemed satisfied and smiled, replying to Kate’s earlier statement. “Davis told me that the time he spent here is one of his most cherished memories. He specified exactly what he wanted for this special house.”
“That must have been a difficult task for you,” Kate said. “Finding the exact specifications, I mean.”
A frown creased Celine’s brow, then quickly disappeared. “It simply takes expertise and the ability to move in the right circles. Living in London, where I do most of my research, helps tremendously, of course. That’s where many of the most prestigious galleries in the world are located, the Tate among them, where I do most of my work.”
Kate nodded. “Speaking of London, in your talk, you mentioned the inclement weather.”
Celine paused, studying Kate’s face for a moment before answering. “Yes. You know London, foggy and dreary much of the time. Much too cool for my taste. That’s what I love about your country—at least in many of the places I’ve visited or worked. Plenty of sunshine and warmth.”
“I’m glad our weather is cooperating for you,” Kate said with a wide smile. A heat wave had hit London recently—it had been all over the news because the city was unprepared. But Kate carefully avoided any look of surprise or suspicion; perhaps Celine was already in the States when the heat wave began. “Will you be here long?”
Celine shook her head. “Davis and I have a few events to attend on behalf of other loans he’s making, but most of those will be on weekends. He has a private jet that he flies out of Chattanooga, which helps us get around quite nicely. I’ve been teaching a class at Pine Ridge College and will be returning home to London as soon as that is completed.” She flashed Kate a quick smile, then gracefully turned and floated out the front door.
