“Such as it is,” he snorted. “These bumbling cops are about as inept as our military.”
Gemma held her tongue against the surge of anger at his words and let him talk.
“If you ask me, West getting killed yesterday was a long time coming,” he continued, looking at the elevator doors as if she weren’t there. “It should happen to a lot more of our so-called military leaders. And one of these days it will. Have you read my book?” he asked suddenly.
“No,” Gemma said quickly.
“Well, you should. You have no idea what goes on behind closed doors, as far as our military is concerned.”
Gemma was sure he was about to launch into some tirade when the doors opened onto the lobby. She darted out ahead of him and hurried toward the conference room before he could say another word. Surely, this guy was somehow involved.
As she crossed the quiet lobby, she noted that the crime scene tape was gone. Like it never even happened, she thought to herself. There were only a couple of police officers in the conference room when Gemma arrived. One of them had been outside her door the night before. They were drinking coffee from a pot that had been set up on a nearby table.
“Ms. Stone,” he said, with a smile of recognition. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please. I would,” Gemma said. “And do you know where Ross, I mean Detective Ferguson is?”
“He hasn’t come back yet.” the other police officer said.
“He went home in this snow storm?” Gemma asked.
They both nodded. “We were all up pretty late. And I know he was on the phone with the CID until early this morning. I think he just needed to get away for a bit and I think he wanted to attend the autopsy this morning.”
As badly as Gemma needed to give him the information she had, she knew it would be best to just wait. “When he comes in, will you tell him to call me? I’ve left several messages but...”
“Will do,” the young officer said and there was that engaging smile again.
Reluctantly, Gemma turned to leave the room. She thought about writing Ross a note but this was pretty sensitive information. If it accidentally got into the wrong hands... She walked back out into the hall, unsure of whether to just return to her room or explore the hotel looking for a clue into the Northlake clan’s past.
Seeing a young man at the front desk made her decision for her.
“Excuse me,” she said as she approached.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a practiced but welcoming smile. There was no hint of the confusion and unhappiness behind the desk from the day before. But, then again, Victoria Northlake wasn’t there and she seemed to be the root of any trouble they had with their employees.
“Is there any public information available that might give me some history and background on Northlake Manor and the family?” Gemma asked.
“Why, yes, there’s a room right off of the library with some history, photos and memorabilia,” he told her, eager to share the information.
“And where is the library?” Gemma asked.
“Right down this hall next to Mr. Northlake’s office,” he explained and pointed in the direction she had come.
“Thank you,” Gemma said.
She passed the conference room and the office, both with closed doors and found the open doorway to another room. It did appear to be a library with shelves lining three of the walls floor to ceiling. Two leather chairs faced a welcoming fire in the fireplace, which drew her into the room. The room was fairly large.
She began exploring, reading some of the titles, surprised to find best sellers as well as the classics on the shelves. In one corner she discovered a small alcove.
And inside the alcove, she discovered another doorway, leading into what appeared to be a small sitting room with even more bookshelves. Two wing back chairs covered in a beautiful emerald green brocade faced a much smaller fireplace with only one or two logs smoldering in the hearth. A table flanked one wall and, as Gemma approached, she noted that it was covered with two or three photo albums open to what looked like a family portrait of the Northlake Family standing in front of Northlake Manor.
The photo was old, yellowing despite the care with which it had been stored. In it, Northlake Manor looked almost new. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Northlake were young and Gemma was right in her assumption that Simone Northlake had been a stunning young woman. The three children were in the photo. Benjamin, almost as tall as his father, stood beside the man looking just as stern. Vince looked into the camera, not quite as solemn. Victoria clung to her mother’s hand, looking as though she were about to cry.
Gemma slowly turned the pages, studying the photos and discovered that it looked like that same photo had been recreated year after year. Winter and Simone Northlake grew older in each one, and their children grew up, turning into young men and women. And Northlake Manor still stood proud and strong behind them, even though it grew older as well.
Looking up from the pictures, she spotted other books on the table. A quick glance through told her they were photo albums as well. Surely someone had done a Northlake family history at some point. It was a long standing family in the community with lineage as far back as the Civil War. In fact, she thought it might have at one time been used as a hospital for wounded soldiers.
Standing up straight, Gemma surveyed the gloomy room to see if perhaps another book was opened on a table somewhere. She spotted a medium sized book with a gray cover on a small table near the fireplace and, without thinking, headed for it. The cover was more worn than she had realized at first but ‘Northlake Family History’ was embossed on the front. Inside, she checked the publication date and found that it was only about twenty years old. Thinking she would skim through it and maybe get something she could share with Ross, she picked the book up and turned to find a seat and maybe a lamp she could turn on to help her see better.
Only to find the body of Simone Northlake slumped over in one of the wingback chairs, her knitting on the floor by her side and a small book opened in her lap.
Chapter Nine
The book hit the floor with a soft thump and Gemma put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. This could not be happening. If the CID found her with this body as well as General West’s, there was no way she or Ross or even Mitch’s team of crack shot lawyers could keep her out of prison.
She must have made some sound because, miraculously the body in the chair stirred. Mrs. Northlake opened her eyes, sat up and gently patted her thin, wispy gray hair as if it might be out of place.
“Ms. Stone,” she said when she realized Gemma was standing there staring at her. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m so sorry,” Gemma’s knees grew weak as relief flooded through her. “I thought you were, uh, dead.”
Mrs. Northlake laughed softly. “Not quite yet, my dear.”
“Actually, I wanted to check to make sure you were okay after yesterday, but I figured it was too early.”
“I’m fine,” Simone Northlake said, placing her hand on the yarn tangled with the long knitting needles beside her. “At my age, I can’t afford to get too upset about anything. Besides, the police are all over the place.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just curious about the family and looking for some history...”
The elderly woman brushed off Gemma’s apology. “Actually, I’m happy for the company. The weather prevented me from going to synagogue this morning so I just retreated in here to read my prayer book. I must have dozed off.”
“So you’re Jewish?” Gemma asked, wondering why she was so surprised.
“Yes,” Simone Northlake said with a shy little smile. And then she pulled a gold Star of David bookmark out of her small bible. “Winter gave this to me on our wedding day,” she said, looking at it lovingly. “His acceptance of me, of my religion and my past meant so much to me.”
“You miss him very much don’t you?” Gemma voiced the thou
ghts that were going through her head as Mrs. Northlake tenderly stroked the bookmark with her fingertips.
“I do,” she said and when she looked at Gemma again, her eyes were a pale, watery blue.
“Can I ask you something?” Gemma asked, after giving the older woman a moment to compose herself.
“Of course, my dear.”
“I hear a soft little accent in your voice,” Gemma said.
Mrs. Northlake laughed again. “I’m French, darling. Winter was stationed in France during the war, which is how we met. He married me and brought me home to Northlake Manor. Then she added, “Much to the chagrin of his parents.”
“It must have been difficult for you,” Gemma said.
Simone shook her gray head. “Winter was the only family I had. My parents and siblings were taken away during the war. I remained alive by escaping at the last minute.”
“Wow – so much adventure,” Gemma said.
“More than I care to remember,” Simone answered and reached for her knitting.
As Gemma watched her nimble fingers maneuver the yarn over and around the needles she said, “Have you ever thought of writing a book?”
Mrs. Northlake shook her head.
“I know a really wonderful writer who would be happy to help you out,” Gemma continued.
Simone let the needles and yarn fall to her lap and met Gemma’s gaze. “I have no need to remember my adventures, as you call them. And I have no need to confess them.”
Gemma wanted to say more but the tone of her voice, the look in her eyes told her the conversation, or at least that part of it, was over.
Before Gemma could think of anything else to say, a voice interrupted them. “Ms. Stone?”
Gemma turned to see a police officer standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Detective Ferguson is back. I know you wanted to share some information with him.”
“I did. Thank you,” Gemma said, getting to her feet. She picked up the book she’d dropped on the floor and placed it back on the table. “Again, I’m sorry if I interrupted you,” Gemma said to Simone.
“My dear, please be careful. You don’t know what kind of man General West was,” Simone Northlake said, looking up at Gemma.
By the time she left the room, the knitting needles were clicking together rhythmically.
Out in the hall she ran into Victoria Northlake, who was coming out of her brother’s office. She already looked more distressed than she had the day before and Gemma felt sorry for any employees working around her.
“Good morning, Ms. Northlake,” Gemma said, offering her a smile.
Victoria nodded once in her direction and then scurried off down the hall and into the library. Gemma heard the door to the sitting room close with a bang and suddenly she felt sorry for Simone. Even as adults they appeared to be polar opposites of each other and she was sure that led to nothing but trouble.
The door to what had become Ross’s interrogation room was partially open and Gemma grabbed each of them a cup of coffee before going inside. Ross looked like he had slept very little even though he had gone home for the night. Dark stubble covered his strong, classic jaw line but he was wearing his usual dark suit with a neatly pressed shirt and a dark blue tie.
“Good morning,” Gemma said, carefully placing his coffee on the table in front of him. “I hear the roads are awful.”
“Treacherous,” he said with that sexy smile that he seemed to reserve just for her. It sent Gemma’s heart racing. Then he took in her casual jeans and sweater. His gaze stopped at all the places it usually did when he looked at her and he licked his lips slowly. “Nice jeans,” he said. “Dressing down today?”
It was suddenly very hot in the small room and Gemma fanned herself with one hand. “Hadn’t planned on it, but I came down here earlier to talk to you about something I forgot,” Gemma found herself longing to touch him but held onto her coffee with both hands to prevent that from happening. “When you weren’t here I did a little exploring...”
“Not investigating?”
Gemma shook her head. “I was really just curious about the Northlake family history. I ended up in the library with Mrs. Northlake. Did you know she was French?”
Ross nodded. “I did. We’ve run a pretty thorough background check on almost everyone.”
“Including Simone?” Gemma asked, stunned. “She’s just a little old lady who misses her husband badly.”
Ross just grinned. “Tell me what you forgot and then I’m going to share some confidential information with you,” he said, taking a sip from the Styrofoam cup.
“From the autopsy?”
Ross made a ‘come on’ motion with his hand. “You first. What did you forget?”
“I forgot to tell you that I overheard a conversation between Benjamin Northlake and the general yesterday at the restaurant.”
She had Ross’s full attention now as he reached for a pen and legal pad.
“I think they were working on a deal of some sort. They were talking about a meeting with the general and all three of the Northlake children. I overheard them yesterday, in the cafeteria. That might have been what the money was all about, but why would he give them cash?”
Ross looked thoughtful for a moment. “What else?”
“Oh, yesterday, just before I turned to help the family with the babies inside, that guy with the books...”
“Bilker?”
“Yes. He and the guy in the top hat with the magical cane...”
“The steampunk guy?” Ross asked, interrupting her again.
Gemma nodded, feeling as if she had given Ross an important piece of information she didn’t even know she had. “They both came into the lobby at the same time and went flying past me so fast they almost knocked me down.”
Ross was scribbling on his legal pad.
“The guy in the top hat is Walter Shores. He has disappeared,” Ross told her.
“Disappeared?”
“As in gone from the hotel.”
“How did that happen?”
Ross shrugged. “We can’t be everywhere at once. I wasn’t too worried up until just now because his background came back clean. Not even a parking ticket. But I don’t like the fact that he’s friends with Bilker and that he’s disappeared.”
“What does CID think?”
“Don’t know,” Ross said softly.
“Bilker is still here,” Gemma offered. “I saw him in the elevator earlier.”
“We’re watching him closely but so far all we’ve uncovered is some minor harassment of military officials. He’s mostly a loud mouth full of empty threats,” Ross finished with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
“Why does he hate the military so much?” Gemma wondered aloud.
“Seems he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing and, instead of a court marshall, they went easy on him and gave him a dishonorable discharge. It’s on his record and he’s had a hard time getting a job so he burned up his energy writing a book about what he feels is the corrupt military.”
Gemma shook her head and sipped her coffee while Ross made notes on the legal pad. Finally she said, “So, did they find the bullet?”
Ross looked up at her, totally confused by what she’d said. “Oh, you mean during the autopsy?”
“Yes, that’s what I meant,” Gemma said and then grinned. She knew he was being deliberately slow with her.
“General Loden West was not shot as we’d first suspected,” Ross said. With his elbows on the table, he rested his chin in his hand giving Gemma a minute to digest this.
“Not shot?”
Ross shook his head. “He was stabbed.”
Chapter Ten
“Stabbed?” Gemma gasped.
Ross nodded. “Stabbed with a very sharp round object that went up through his left arm pit and directly into his heart.”
“Sounds like they knew what they were doing,” Gemma said.
Ross nodded again. “That’s what I
thought, too.”
“Any idea about what the killer might have used as a weapon?” Gemma asked.
“Not really. Something round, about the size of a bullet and at least twelve inches long,” Ross said.
“The way you described it, it sounds like it could be an ice pick. Not that people generally carry an ice pick around with them any more...” Gemma shook her head, out of ideas.
“CID is thinking this might be a professional hit,” Ross said, rubbing his face with both hands. “Whoever it was knew exactly what they were doing and they were able to get close to him.”
“The lobby was really crowded. It would have been easy to bump up against him,” Gemma finished with a shrug. Then she smiled. “That takes the CID’s attention off me.”
“At least for now,” Ross said. “I’d still like to get this wrapped up before they get here this afternoon.”
“I’m sure we can,” Gemma said, standing.
“There’s no ‘we’ in this, Gemma,” Ross said, standing as well.
“But...”
Ross pushed the door gently closed and took her in his arms. “I want you to keep your pretty little nose out of this,” he said.
Before Gemma could argue, he kissed her with that rough kiss of his that made her knees weak and set her pulse racing. As she had done so many times in the past weeks, she mentally compared her reaction to the two men in her life. Nick’s kisses were warm, tender and loving. Ross’s kisses promised something exciting, almost forbidden.
“I’m pretty sure we’re going to keep you out of prison,” he told her, pulling her close and stroking her back. “But if you get in the killer’s way, I don’t think he’d hesitate to take you out to protect himself.”
“You’re scaring me,” Gemma said, resting her head on his shoulder briefly while she snuggled closer.
“Good. You need to be scared,” Ross said. “Now, go get dressed up and sell some of that beautiful jewelry of yours. I’ve got work to do.”
On her way out of the conference room Gemma ran into Nick, who looked relieved when he saw her. “There you are. I came up to your room to bring you coffee and Holly didn’t know where you were,” he said.
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