by I Beacham
Drawing herself up to full height, Ele looked down on Kiernan, her jaw firm. “Tell me, how long have you been a photographer?”
Kiernan contemplated the strange turn of question. One minute they were studying sinister photos before them, and now this? But maybe it was a line of questioning that required Ele’s attention, to help her make sense of what was happening.
“All my life,” Kiernan answered. “I entered the profession when I was about twenty.”
Ele nodded, but said nothing. A long, uncomfortable silence cut across the room, and though Kiernan longed to fill it, to break its somber heaviness, she could think of nothing to say. She let the emptiness hang there for a while before being compelled to chase it. “My father was an amateur photographer. It was his all-consuming hobby. I caught the bug from him and ended up studying photography at college and working Saturdays in a camera shop. Long story made very short, I’ve had a pretty varied career, but I’m now freelance.”
“Freelance…” Ele repeated with slow deliberation. “You must be very good to be able to cut a living that way. I can’t imagine it pays well, but I suppose Oxfordshire Countryways Magazine only contracts out to the best.”
At face value, the comment should have been a compliment, but Kiernan knew it wasn’t. There was a heavy implication behind the words, and Kiernan didn’t like their tone. She took several deep breaths, girding herself for the unpleasantness that was steam rolling her way. “Freelance can pay, if you work hard,” she said. “And yes, I guess I am considered well in the industry. You’re right, magazines contract out to those who they know can deliver. I have a reputation for not letting people down.” Kiernan could hear herself getting defensive. She wished she knew why.
“And you process all your own shots,” Ele added casually as if she already knew.
Now Kiernan was getting rattled and considered the comment ignorant. “Of course I do!” Her restraint was slipping. “I’m hardly going to pop down to the local drug store and let them do my work, am I? Who does these days? I edit all my own material, straight from the camera to the computer. Any artistic interpretation or creative judgment is mine. I’m the professional photographer.” Now it was her turn to ask the questions. “Why the sudden interest in my technical abilities?”
“Because I think your artistic interpretation borders on the criminal.”
The acerbic comment caught Kiernan full blast. Where had the relaxed, warmhearted woman gone? She felt her absence as she drew breath and analyzed the way Ele was looking at her, with contempt. The sour spoken words made her feel insulted, as if everything she was, honest and a consummate professional, were being called into question, but over what? What was happening here that she wasn’t seeing?
“What’s your point?” Her voice was low, no longer hiding her irritation. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but I know I don’t like it.”
Ele shook her head in what looked like disbelief. “You must take me for a complete fool,” she said with an unnatural calm. “Do I look like such an easy target for a confidence trick?”
“Confidence trick?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday.” Kiernan heard the controlled journalistic authority that Ele once used on her morning shows, her steel when she was chasing revelation. “And I certainly know when I’m being deceived. I can see through your photographic trickery, Miss. Foyle. I’m not sure where this particular scam is leading, but I can tell you, it’s not going any further with me. I want you and your laptop out of my house, now.”
Kiernan was struck dumb. It took a while to find her voice. “Scam? You think all of this”—she waved her hand over her laptop—“is trickery? That I’m doing this for some fraudulent gain? I can assure you that every photo I have shown you is genuine. There are no trick shots here.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll have every opportunity to explain that to your editor when I tell him what’s happened.”
When Kiernan failed to move, Ele rounded off with a warning. “If you don’t move, I’ll also be alerting the police. Your decision; act fast.”
In all her professional life—no, in all her life—this bizarre outcome had never happened to Kiernan, and because it was beyond her scope of experience, she didn’t know how to handle it. It was pointless telling her that she’d done many jobs for the magazine and, if she’d been remotely criminal, didn’t Ele think that would have come to the editor’s attention sooner? But there was no reasoning with this woman. She had made her mind up that the photos were some illusion conjured by a masterful computer program. How could Kiernan convince her that it wasn’t when she couldn’t believe what she was seeing herself?
Moments later, Kiernan sat in her car and turned the engine. Oh damn! How was she going to explain this to Tom Mitchell?
*
Ele threw the latches and bolts across her door making sure it was secure. She didn’t want Kiernan trying to reenter. Did she consider that a possibility? Damn right she did. Anyone who would go to so much trouble to produce such a ruse was capable of that. She was just grateful Kiernan left quickly, and with minimum fuss.
She sat back exhausted on the bottom of her stairs, her emotions in tatters. Her hands hung limp between her knees as she contemplated what happened. It was a horrible experience. She felt angry and raw—raw because someone, a complete stranger, had almost managed to dupe her into…God knows what? Ele let this person into her home and had been gracious and welcoming. This was the result, and she considered herself a stupid fool. Was this what her self-enforced solitary existence meant, that she was now the easiest of pickings for the criminal fraternity of this world?
She looked down at her shaking hands and fumed as tears ran down her face. She cursed Kiernan as she roughly wiped them away. “Damn it,” she muttered. The ridiculousness of the whole thing was that she had liked Kiernan. Liked her a lot. There had been an instant connection, and she had warmed to her wry, gentle humor. Despite her remonstrations about dressing up, she had looked forward to seeing her again. The latter point was a surprise and it shook Ele. Not many people evoked that level of interest from her, not in years. Of course, most successful con artists were the type that people liked; that was how they drew in victims. Oh damn. She’s a crook.
“Oh, Beth,” she whispered, “I wish you were here. I miss you so much.” She hung her head. Would she ever stop missing her? Sometimes the pain cut through her like a razor, its sharpness not blunted by the years. Maybe this was Ele’s punishment for liking someone a little too much. For even thinking beyond Beth?
She remained on her stairs for a while before moving. She wanted to find Kiernan’s business card, and also the letter she’d received from the magazine. Ele was going to phone the editor. She was not going to let that woman get away with this, to survive and inveigle others with her dishonesty.
However, she didn’t make the call. Perhaps it was because of the shock, but she chose to retire early, thinking sleep would give her a clear head in the morning when she spoke to Tom Mitchell.
The ploy worked. When she arose the next day, her thoughts were again rational, and the emotional sway of yesterday, gone. She reasoned that a magazine as well established and renowned as Oxfordshire Countryways would only contract those well known, and with good credentials.
But it irritated Ele that her first impressions of Kiernan had been so way off base. She was a good judge of character. Had she suddenly lost that ability? Instead, she tried something different. She grabbed her digital camera and went outside. She took a handful of photos before returning and loading them onto her computer.
What she saw made her step away from the desk. She clasped her hand over her mouth in fear. There, in every photo she had taken, was the same strange man in the background, the strange man whose eyes were focused on her.
Chapter Five
Only a day later, Kiernan doggedly pulled onto the driveway of Ele’s house. She’d returned to her car after a photographic shoot for the National Trust in Banbu
ry to find her cell phone had a missed call. It was from Ele. Her message was simple. Ele had taken her own photos. She now knew that Kiernan was not lying. She was so very sorry and hoped that Kiernan could forgive her. The message then ended.
At first, Kiernan decided to ignore it and leave the beautiful Ele Teal well alone. She was incensed that anyone would dare call her integrity into question and had spent the remainder of yesterday in a filthy mood. Even today at work, she’d not been giving the job her entire attention. Ele’s accusations kept running, and rerunning in her head, like some horrid playback loop, interrupting her thoughts.
Kiernan had wanted to phone Tom Mitchell, an associate of many years who had become a friend, and let him know what had happened before he got Ele’s inevitable call. The one thing that stopped her was that he was away for a few days on a compassionate matter; his brother had died unexpectedly. Tom was devastated, and Kiernan was damned if she was going to bother him at such a time. It would all have to wait until he was back in the office.
Yet now it seemed she might not need to talk to Tom, and here she was outside Ele’s house again. Why was she bothering to come back here? Ele had apologized, but it was something any decent person should do after all that was said. What if Ele didn’t want her back here? She would have to apologize again, and this time in person. It would all be very awkward and difficult. Maybe that was what Kiernan wanted, to give Ele a bit of how she had felt yesterday? But she knew it wasn’t. It was something else. Something as yet, undefined.
She rang the bell and waited.
*
Ele opened the door and was shocked to find Kiernan. She had apologized profusely on the phone this morning—a recorded message—but never expected to hear from her again, let alone see her. She was so sure Kiernan would want to put as much distance as possible between herself and some crazy loner living in a large country house. But here she was.
Caught short and unprepared, all Ele could think of was apologizing again. “I’m so sorry for my behavior yesterday. I was way out of line. I misread the entire situation and thought the very worst of you. I reacted without any decent thought—”
“Yes, I think I’ve got all that. You’re sorry and you’ve made a mistake.” Kiernan’s tone was acidic. “Now it’s my turn to talk and for you to listen.” Her voice registered deep annoyance. There was a look of no-nonsense on her face, and Ele shut up faster than a Venus flytrap.
“You need to understand something. I’m not a person used to being called a charlatan, nor do I enjoy having my moral integrity called into question. Just so you know, and to save you time having to work it out, I come from a good and stable background where I was taught, and learned to be, an honest human being. I’ve worked very hard for everything I’ve ever achieved in life, and the mere intimation that I’d do something dishonest across you or anyone else is, quite frankly, insulting.”
Blood felt as if it plummeted from Ele’s face as her body temperature rose. She could do nothing but stand still and listen, hear the hurt behind the words. She was uncomfortable and recognized it as her penance.
“Ele, I was shocked when you accused me of trickery, and to say I left here angry is an understatement. Don’t you ever treat me like that again. If you have a question about anything I say or do, you ask me. Give me the grace to defend myself rather than you put two and two together and make seven. Is that understood?”
“Yes, it is.” Her throat felt tight.
“Good. Therefore, you have apologized and I accept that. You have now heard what I have to say regarding this, and you have implied you understand. I hope you do because I have no intention of repeating this. I think the matter is now at an end.” She hesitated. “I’m just overwhelmingly grateful that you didn’t phone Tom Mitchell.”
Ele felt the atmosphere lift and welcomed the return of Kiernan’s customary tendency to humor. She half expected Kiernan to turn and leave now she’d said her piece, but she didn’t. Instead, her face turned soft, as though her venting removed a heavy weight from her shoulders.
“Isn’t it nice that two adults can sort out a misunderstanding so decently?” A small smile formed on Kiernan’s lips and her voice returned to its normal, melodic lilt.
Ele wanted to smile too, but wasn’t sure it was appropriate, so she didn’t. The thought that they had both “sorted out a misunderstanding” amused her. That implied mutual action, some unity. She was pretty sure she hadn’t noticed any. She’d been in receiving mode as the admonishment had rightfully been delivered.
“I will say this,” Kiernan continued, her posture relaxing. “In fairness to you, I started thinking of how I’d react to those photographs. I mean, the subject matter isn’t something you come across every day, is it?”
“Not really.” Ele’s answer was limp. She was still unsure of Kiernan’s reactions.
“And it isn’t something I’ve experienced before. While I don’t think I would have reacted the way you did, part of me understands.”
Ele noted how the color of her eyes changed, an indicator of her mood. She found herself admiring Kiernan’s response. She was brave enough to come and face her. Without being over dramatic or rude, she simply put her own case forward and reprimanded Ele for hers. It reassured Ele that she hadn’t lost her ability to judge character. Kiernan Foyle was someone special, a woman with depth and maturity, and thankfully, one with a huge capacity for kindness as now witnessed by her ability to forgive. Ele considered that these traits were things anyone decent aspired to, and yet what many people lacked. She felt penitent and wished yesterday had never happened.
“So, everything is okay, right?”
It took Ele several seconds to register that she was staring at Kiernan who now regarded her curiously. She blushed and felt uncomfortable. Covering her embarrassment, she realized she was keeping Kiernan on the doorstep and that she looked chilled to the bone. Although it was only mid afternoon, it was cold and there was about an hour of light left. She ushered her into the hallway and closed the door.
“Everything is fine, Kiernan. Please tell me you’ll come in and have a drink. You look frozen.” She added, “And I think I need the opportunity to show you I’m not always a complete idiot who should know better, if you’ll give me the chance.”
“I’m willing to give you a second chance.” The nuance suggested amiable teasing, and forgiveness, but there was nothing dismissive in Kiernan’s features. She looked serious. A few beats of time passed before she added, “I think you might have a problem outside.”
Ele heard the edginess in her own voice as she admitted, “I think my home is haunted.”
Chapter Six
Keirnan allowed herself to be pushed into the sitting room as Ele then disappeared into the kitchen. She was glad they had managed to sort things out and that she wasn’t now regarded as a member of some criminal fraternity. She was happy they were back on good terms. Losing Ele’s trust was something she never wanted to do, although she wasn’t sure why.
She relaxed on a large, soft, three-seat burgundy sofa, the type that swallowed you as you sank into it. It wrapped itself around her like a lover’s arm as she stretched out her legs toward the warm fire that crackled away in front of her. She felt its warmth on her feet and realized how cold she’d been.
Kiernan waited for Ele to return with coffee and enjoyed the smell of wood burning. She’d spent all day outside taking photos of an historical building undergoing major restoration. The National Trust wanted to record the changes. There was nothing challenging to the work, but she’d been on her feet all day, and she was exhausted. It also hadn’t helped that her mental state had been off-kilter. She hadn’t realized how annoyed she was with Ele until she’d arrived on her doorstep and found herself reading the woman the riot act. But now everything was off her chest and the air cleared, she felt a thousand times better. Her current problem was that, as she loosened up, she was in danger of falling asleep in front of Ele’s fire. She forced her mind into an atte
ntive state.
Glancing around, she liked what she saw. Long, sumptuous drapes that shimmered, hung on tall period windows. The room was carpeted, and there were several large rich colored rugs in a traditional design in keeping with the elegance of the room. Four large table lamps were already on even though there was still some light outside. They cast dancing shadows across the room invitingly, courtesy of the firelight.
On a tapestry footstool opposite her sat an attractive long haired black cat, and she reached forward to stroke it. It hissed at her, and she was caught in the action of retreating against an unassailable and hostile force when Ele walked in with two steaming hot mugs of coffee.
“I see you’ve met Featherstone.”
“I don’t think your cat likes me,” Kiernan said.
“Don’t worry about Feathers. He’s just contrary and takes his time getting to know people. He wouldn’t hurt you; he’s adorable.”
Adorable was not a word that Kiernan associated with this cat. Ever since she’d walked into the room, he had followed her, watching every move she made. Even now, while he cleaned a paw meticulously, his large golden eyes, like an owl’s, scrutinized her.
She sipped her drink, its welcoming liquid heat seeping into her. “Featherstone is a strange name for a cat.”
“It was the name on the box,” Ele said. “I was out for dinner one night with friends. As I walked back to the car park, I heard a noise like a squeak. It came from an old cardboard box up against a wall. When I looked inside, there was this kitten, very tiny, thin, and scared. It was no older than five or six weeks.”
Ele reached over and stroked him. Featherstone lifted his head toward her, a look of pure ecstasy slapped across his feline face.
“It was raining,” she continued, “and the poor mite was wet. I looked around hoping to see where he came from, who he belonged to, but there was nothing. I think someone dumped him. My conscience wouldn’t let me walk away so I wrapped him in my scarf and brought him home. We’ve been great friends ever since, haven’t we, Feathers?”
