Proof of Murder
Page 1
THE BODY IN THE LOCKED ROOM
Brian shoved the flat end of the crowbar into the crevice flanked by the door and frame and pried at it to the tune of cracking wood. “Got it!” He handed the bar back to Addie, who dropped it back in his tool bag as he swung the door open.
The crowd of staff that had gathered in the hallway breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“Back to work, everyone.” Blake clapped his hands together. “We’re live in less than an hour.” The group scurried off, leaving the three of them alone. “Thank you, Brian. You can add this little mishap to my bill.”
Addie stepped past him, stuck her head inside and took a hasty glance around. “There’s no one in here.”
“There has to be.” Blake came to her side. “The door was bolted from the inside.”
“Take a look.” She waved her hand. “Do you see anyone? Oh, wait. What’s that?” She pointed to the desk chair turned away from them. “Is that Charlotte’s hand on the arm?”
“See? I told you she was probably in here sleeping.”
“Charlotte?” Addie called hesitantly as she moved toward the desk. With no reaction from the woman, Addie’s gut tightened. She reached for the chair and swiveled it toward her. The ghastly look on Charlotte’s face shook her to the core, and she clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream . . .
Books by Lauren Elliott
MURDER BY THE BOOK
PROLOGUE TO MURDER
MURDER IN THE FIRST EDITION
PROOF OF MURDER
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
PROOF OF MURDER
Lauren Elliott
KENSINGTON BOOKS
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
THE BODY IN THE LOCKED ROOM
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2020 by Lauren Elliott
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2709-1
ISBN-10: 1-4967-2709-6
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2710-7 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-2710-X (ebook)
Chapter 1
Addison Greyborne stepped into the warm, New England morning, closing the front door of Beyond the Page, her book and curio shop, behind her. Her heart skipped a beat when the scent of the briny tang of the sea niggled at her nose. She licked her lips, savoring the taste of the tiny salt crystals on the tip of her tongue. The added aroma of fresh-baked bread from the bakery next door made—in her mind—the perfect start to a day.
In spite of the elation this moment brought her, she couldn’t escape the twang of guilt that tugged at her chest. She had left her shop assistant, Paige Stringer, to sort through and catalogue a large bin of books a customer brought in to be sold on consignment, while she herself went out on this beautiful summer morning for a little adventure. However, one look at Paige’s face through the bay window alleviated Addie’s guilt. It wasn’t often she met another person who matched her own love of books, especially unearthed treasures. At last, someone else she knew who giggled with glee on every new find.
Leaving Paige to dive into the books with Christmas-morning gusto, Addie pressed the papers in her hand close to her chest and critiqued her window displays. The new summer dioramas were starting to come together, but she needed to make certain nothing was overlooked. Since the town council first announced that Greyborne Harbor was going to become a regular port of call for one of the small East Coast cruise ship lines, the whole town was abuzz. Addie’s displays had always been eye-catching but now, with this new onslaught of summer tourism, she needed to step up her game.
The additions of a Barbie beach blanket, umbrella, bicycle, and picnic basket that Paige had borrowed from her daughter Emma’s doll collection were perfect. Now Addie only needed an assortment of classic romance and mystery novels to showcase around the sand-and-water display to complete the scene. Her brief glance into the bin Paige was sorting confirmed she’d have plenty of quick summer beach reads that tourists flocked to, but the stockpile in her aunt’s attic was running low on the classics. She needed to shore up her supply. Crossing her fingers, she hoped her recent run with Lady Luck hadn’t run dry. The yard sale and auction flyer clutched in her hand gave her confidence. That’s it, girl. Stay positive. You’re going to find some wonderful treasures today. She approached the curb and headed toward her red-and-white Mini Cooper parked across the narrow street.
“Stop! Wait right there!”
With her foot hovering over the curb edge, Addie winced and slowly turned toward the one woman she knew was capable of unleashing that ear-splitting screech. “Serena, good morning. I see you’re out and about early today. It’s only nine thirty. Is your morning rush over already?”
“Why?” Serena Chandler, her best friend and local tea merchant, stood on the sidewalk, hands on hips, her big brown, not-so-innocent eyes locked with Addie’s. “Were you hoping to make the great escape without me finding out?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve been standing by your window waiting to pounce on me for the last half hour?”
“No, of course not,” Serena shot back. “But I know you, Missy.” She wagged a finger in Addie’s direction. “So I got my eye on you.”
“I was just . . . never mind.” Addie tossed her long-ponytailed head back and gave her best imitation of a heartfelt laugh, which, judging by the look on Serena’s face, was completely unconvincing.
“Is that why you have that girl-gone-crazy look in your eyes right now?” Serena tapped her fingers on her crossed arms.
Sensing Serena’s impatience, Addie confessed. “Yes. I’ll admit it.” She ignored the self-satisfied smile creeping across Serena’s face. “I’m heading out to the same place you warned me not to go to last night.”
“And . . . that’s because you—what? Can’t stay away from a murder scene?”
“Give me a break, Serena. It’s not like those murders at Hill Road House happened
yesterday.”
Serena’s mouth dropped. “Did you not hear anything else I said last night?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But you’re forgetting one thing, my friend.” Addie waved off the look of concern written across Serena’s face and started across the road for her car. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” she called back over her shoulder.
A gasp escaped Serena’s lips. “Just don’t call me in the middle of the night when you have nightmares,” she shouted over the engine roar of a passing car.
“Don’t worry about me. It’s you I have concerns about. You seem to be taking this tall tale a little too seriously.” Addie turned and mischievously grinned at a now blotchy, freckle-faced Serena. “Besides, if it’s so haunted, why wasn’t it included in the annual Ghost Walk tour that was held in the spring?” She chuckled softly as she fit her key in the lock and flung her car door open. “While I’m there,” she called over her shoulder, “I’ll be sure to pick up a copy of The Haunting of Hill House. After all, if the estate is as riddled with ghosts as you say it is, I’m confident I’ll find a copy of it there somewhere.”
“Nice try, but I’m a classic film nut, remember.” Serena’s voice rose in pitch to a warbled quiver. “So I know that’s a movie not a book.”
“Yes . . . and it was based on the book by Shirley Jackson.” Addie grinned over her shoulder at her friend whose face now matched her flaming red hair. Serena’s freckles popped out as they did any time her emotions ran high. Addie wondered if she should tell Serena that it was happening again but had second thoughts about that when Serena snorted and flared her nostrils. It was probably best not to poke the bear anymore this morning, so she bit her tongue, tossed the flyer and her bag—a straw satchel—on the passenger seat of her car, and slid into her seat to the thwack of Serena TEA’s door banging shut.
Addie shook her head at her theatrical friend and inched out of her parking space—and slammed down hard on the brake as a white Lexus LS passed mere inches from her side panel. Her purse flew off the seat and smacked against the console, the contents tumbling haphazardly to the floor. Her hands still tight around the steering wheel, she glared at the car, then took a calming breath and did a double shoulder check. She was certain she’d done that on her first attempt to pull out, but maybe she hadn’t. Sucking in a breath, she tried again.
At the corner of Main Street, she turned right and headed toward Hill Road. When she reached the top, Addie couldn’t miss the large ESTATE SALE and AUCTION sign on the corner of the lot. The red banner placed diagonally across it promised FOUR DAYS ONLY! As she continued driving, she grumbled at the lack of parking. Bentleys, Hondas, and the occasional moped took up every nook and cranny on the street. It wasn’t even 10 a.m. yet, the advertised start of the broker’s preview. She’d had no idea that an auction in little old Greyborne Harbor would be this well attended. Spying a gap in the parking spaces in front of the main gate to the estate that was just the right size for her Mini, she turned on her blinker to claim the spot.
The same white Lexus that had nearly side-swiped her earlier flew past her and maneuvered into the spot she’d already claimed with her blinker! Addie gritted her teeth and growled, sending a dagger glare to the driver as she passed. It was unfortunate that the car’s tinted windows shielded her ability to garner any sense of self-satisfaction from the act.
Addie drove to the end of the street, slipped into a space, and made her way back on foot to number 555 Hill Road. She fleetingly glowered at the Lexus as she walked past and then paused at the imposing front wrought-iron gate. When she forced the rusted gate to open, the air around her seemed to crackle and moan in defiance. She halted briefly at the bottom of the path and scanned the house, which was very much in the style of her own Queen Anne Victorian. She shivered at the faded paint peeling in swaths, the shutters hanging by one hinge, and the overgrown shrubbery clutching at the rotting porch. Dark storm clouds were beginning to move in and the dilapidated three-story, set against the backdrop of the turbulent sky, caused quivers to race up and down her bare arms. She hugged herself tightly as an unexpected icy windblast sucked at her lungs—the wind’s cold hands twisted at her chest, ensnaring her. This certainly hadn’t turned into a day when no jacket was required. Blowing out a sharp breath, she trotted toward the porch steps.
She tried to clear her mind of the tale Serena had shared with her last night of the infamous house. After all, Serena’s creative imagination made for embellished tall tales. Even so, with every step Addie took to the front door, her heart thudded harder and the tale replayed over and over in her mind. Three people had suffered untimely deaths behind the very walls of this house. The same house she was about to enter. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so flippant in dismissing Serena’s concerns.
Addie bit her quivering bottom lip . . . her right foot alighted on the first porch stair . . . then her left. With each groan of the wooden boards under her feet, another shiver surged through her. The crows cawing at her from the treetops did nothing to ease her mounting fears. Every ghost story she’d read and every horror movie she’d seen flashed like lightning strikes through her mind. She wondered if this was how Lila Crane felt when she was about to enter the Bates house in Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Psycho. Perhaps she was letting her imagination get the best of her. She swallowed. But what if the rumors are actually true?
Chapter 2
Addie faced the neglected mahogany door, grasped the weathered handle, heaved out a pent-up breath, and stepped into the foyer. She blinked in the gloominess. The major light sources came from a flickering overhead chandelier and the intermittent beams of sunlight streaming through the open front door. Dust particles shimmered around her, floating in the sporadic sunrays of the growing storm clouds outside. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled as the musty air closed in around her.
“Good morning,” a gravelly voice whispered from the shadows. “Have you registered?”
Goose bumps erupted on Addie’s arms. She jerked and squinted at the robust woman sitting behind a long, French Provincial table. “Umm, no. I guess I’d better do that.” Addie forced a smile, handing the woman her business card, and wrote her name on the registration sheet. She noted the sign on the desk and stopped. “This sale is being conducted by the Edwards Auction House?” Addie looked up at the dimple-pitted, pudgy-cheeked woman from under her creased brow.
“Yes, it is.” The woman tapped her pen on the registration line. “Have you attended one of the company auctions in the past?” She smiled with satisfaction as Addie took her cue and completed the registration procedure.
“Yes, I have. Blake and I are actually old friends.” Addie’s mood lifted at the prospect of seeing a friendly face from her past in Boston.
She took her nametag and registration number from the woman’s outstretched hand and headed toward the double French doors into the front living room. Not a living room in the sense of her own comfy retreat but a foreboding, formal parlor. There was nothing warm and inviting about this mausoleum of a room currently set up with a hodgepodge of antique tables to display the auction items on.
She eyed some of the other eager bidders as they made their way around the small room, ticking off inventory they found to be acceptable to bid on tomorrow, and smiled to herself. She recognized some from when she had worked at the Boston Library; a few she knew through her late father’s and fiancé’s antiquities retrieval work. She’d had no idea that a small-town auction would attract dealers from as far away as New York. This might prove to be an interesting crowd to bid against.
Addie crossed the foyer, zigzagging around a group of brokers she knew. She made small talk before moving back through the crowd to snag a variety of pamphlets and the auction catalogue she’d missed on her arrival. Even though she’d viewed the catalogue online, she gave the print ones a quick once-over. They appeared to contain the same information as her flyer. Wednesday, today, was the preview for the Private Bidders Auction, which was scheduled to be
held the following day. Friday was the Public Silent Auction, and Saturday and Sunday were the Public Outdoor Yard Sale—leftover inventory permitted.
She tossed the material into her oversized straw satchel and headed for the study, across the foyer and opposite the parlor. Inside the small room two keen brokers were discussing the merits of a pedestal-based antique globe that they slowly spun in their hands while examining the etched surface with a magnifying glass. She glanced around the room, noting nothing of interest to her as most of the books on the shelves appeared to be reference journals and encyclopedias. Then her gaze landed on a green-shaded, antique banker’s lamp displayed on a side table alongside a rare Georgian Irish decanter marked WATERLOO CO. CORK, circa 1815.
She blinked. Twice. This was tempting. Even though she knew they would be pricey, she hesitated, but then . . . Nope, she was on a quest and couldn’t allow herself to be sidetracked by all the bright, shiny objects around her. She had another goal on her mind. Addie excused her way through a logjam of people to the library. For her that was where the real treasures would be found.
She stood openmouthed in the double-wide doorway. Now this was a bibliophile’s paradise. Her eyes widened as they took in the splendor of the room. It was everything her own library wasn’t, and she could see now why the front study was half the size of hers. The missing square footage in the other room had been added to this one. This was exactly what she’d always dreamed a home library should be, starting with the large, ornately carved desk set in front of an inglenook fireplace that was flanked on either side by built-in bookshelves that extended floor to ceiling around the perimeter of the massive room. In front of each of the three, lead-pained windows were six leather armchairs placed in groups of twos, each pair snuggled up into cozy reading nooks created by their placement on Oriental throw rugs laid over the polished wooden-planked floor. This was her Disneyland, and her heart danced like that of a ten-year-old girl who had just entered the library in Beauty and the Beast.