“There she is,” Sophie whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
Sophie laughed. “I have no idea.” She turned the key in the ignition and waited as Nanette pulled out onto Broadway. Then she turned on her lights and eased the car out of its parking spot.
Nanette drove slowly down Broadway. It seemed she was heading out of town, but when she reached the Old Colonial Road, she turned right and took the winding two-lane road for the next mile and a half. Sophie followed. There were no other cars on the road. Lucky was sure they couldn’t be seen in the dark, but she was still concerned.
“Slow down,” Lucky said. “We don’t want her to spot us.”
“Okay.” Sophie complied and allowed a great deal of space between the car she was driving and the car ahead of them. Another car came speeding up behind them. Sophie checked her rearview mirror. “He’s moving fast, he’s going to want to pass us.”
“Let him. Just slow down some more. He’ll get the hint.”
The other driver passed them in a roar and went out of sight at the next curve. “Where’d she go?” Sophie asked.
Lucky peered ahead. “She’s ahead of us. Don’t worry. Just don’t get too close. I don’t want her to spot us.” They could see the taillights of the car that had passed them on the road. Suddenly that car sped up and passed Nanette’s. “Stay way back.”
“Look, she’s got her signal on. She’s turning.” They had driven about three miles. “Doesn’t look like she’s heading for Bournmouth.”
As they passed the turnoff, they saw Nanette’s car moving slowly down a dirt road. “Where’s she going?”
“I don’t know. But as we went by, I thought I saw a light further in, like a cabin maybe.”
“What should we do?”
“Drive on a little and pull over. We have to investigate.”
Sophie didn’t look thrilled at the prospect. “Are you sure about this? We promised Nate.”
“I know we did, but this is about Jack and the restaurant, not the murders. We have to figure out what she’s up to.”
“Okay,” Sophie agreed reluctantly.
“There’s a good spot.” Lucky pointed. Sophie’s headlights had illuminated a small cleared patch near the edge of the road. “We’ll be safe here. We can walk back.”
“This is making me very nervous, Lucky. She scares me.”
“Sophie, we have to find out where she’s going and why. I want to know if this is where she’s living. She told me she was driving over from Bournmouth and looking for an apartment in town, but if she’s living here, then she lied to me and she’s hiding something.”
Sophie turned off the engine. The road was dark. No cars passed on either side. The moon was only half full and barely shed any light in the dense woods next to them. They climbed out of the car and walked quickly back to the lane that Nanette had taken.
“I wish we had a flashlight,” Sophie whispered.
“Me too, but I think if we’re careful, we’ll be able to see if there’s a cabin or an RV or something in the woods. The moonlight shone onto the dirt lane in patches, highlighting a pathway through the blackness of the woods. They walked slowly and quietly. The night had grown quite chill and their breath blew out in front of them in small puffs.
Sophie grasped Lucky’s arm. “You’re right. I see a light.”
“Good. Go in that direction. Hold on to my arm. I knew I saw something. It’s a small cottage.”
“We’re like Hansel and Gretel in the woods, following bread crumbs.”
The windows of the tiny cottage were all lit. Two of the curtains were open. Lucky could see movement in the windows. “Be very quiet. I’m going to try to get close and see who’s in there. I’ll bet there’s more than one person. I can’t imagine a woman wanting to live alone in the woods like this.”
“Don’t get too close. I’m getting nervous. She’s just the kind that would have a shotgun and ask questions later.”
“Shhh,” Lucky whispered. “Stay back. I’ll get close to the window and see who’s inside.”
“Are you sure?” Sophie hissed.
“Yup. Stay back. Stay inside the trees.”
The cottage sat in a clearing. Three wooden steps led up to a front door, where an outside light beamed. Lucky approached one side of the house. An elongated square of light fell on the ground. She could see the edge of a wall cabinet. This room appeared to be a kitchen. Staying clear of the area where the light fell, she tiptoed as quietly as possible toward the window. She held her breath and peeked quickly up over the sill. Two people sat at a kitchen table, Nanette and a man. The man was thin with a gaunt, weather-beaten face. He wore a denim jacket over a flannel shirt. Nanette had a pad of paper in front of her and was writing on it. Lucky ducked her head quickly before she was spotted. She moved silently to the other side of the small house. A lamp shone in a bedroom. The furniture was basic, a double bed and only one bureau. Two suitcases sat on the floor. She heard footsteps and the creaking of wood and suddenly the door to the bedroom was flung open. Nanette entered, laughing loudly. The man followed. He was tall compared to her height. He grasped her by the arm and swung her around, pulling her close. He was silent as he nuzzled her neck and shoved her toward the bed. Nanette shrieked. Laughing, she fell backward onto the bedclothes.
Lucky had seen enough. Carefully she stepped away from the window. She turned and headed in the direction where Sophie waited. Her foot struck a branch, snapping it loudly. She hurried toward the trees. Just as she reached the darkness of the woods, she heard the sash of a window flung open behind her.
“Who’s there?” Nanette shouted. Lucky kept moving. She was inside the tree line now but had lost her bearings. She couldn’t find Sophie.
“Sophie?” she whispered, moving to her right, sure of the spot where Sophie should be waiting but she couldn’t see her in the dark. “Sophie?” she hissed again, terrified of being heard.
“Over here,” the whispered answer came back.
Lucky moved toward the sound of Sophie’s voice. A hand grabbed her arm. “Get down.”
They heard the door of the cottage slam open. The thin man with the weather-beaten face stood on the threshold, a shotgun in his hand. They hunkered down behind a bush, fearing to breathe. The man stood, his eyes scanning the woods for several minutes waiting for a sound or the sight of an intruder.
Lucky felt Sophie shift. “Stay still,” she whispered.
“My foot’s gone numb,” Sophie hissed. “Pins and needles.”
“Shhh.” Lucky squeezed Sophie’s arm. She peered through the branches and held her breath. Finally, the man stepped inside and shut the door. They heard the click of a lock.
Sophie started to move. “Wait,” Lucky said. “Give him a few more minutes.”
“I have to stand,” Sophie whispered. “My foot’s . . .”
“Okay. But move very quietly and slowly back to the road.”
They stepped gently and slowly through the brush, reaching the narrow lane they had followed toward the house. Once on flat ground, they began to run and didn’t stop until they reached the car. They climbed in quickly and Sophie turned the key. The engine came to life and the tires made a squealing noise as she drove onto the road.
Lucky didn’t take a deep breath until they were a quarter mile away from the cottage.
“What did you see?” Sophie finally asked.
“Nanette and a strange man. And it’s anything but a platonic relationship.”
“Oh, great,” Sophie mumbled.
Chapter 52
LUCKY CLIMBED THE stairs to her apartment and locked the door behind her. She hung her sweater on a hook in the closet and dropped her purse on a kitchen chair. The light on the answering machine was blinking. She hit the button and Elias’s voice filled the room. He must have wondered where she h
ad gone after work. Should she tell him that she and Sophie had followed Nanette to a cabin in the woods and spied on her? Doubtful. He’d never approve. Still, she didn’t regret their decision. She was relieved she had discovered the extent of Nanette’s lies and misdirection. They still had no way to find any further information, but maybe she could confide in Nate and ask him to run the license plate on her car. The next problem was how to tell Jack.
Her muscles were stiff. She felt drained, not from work, but from the emotional turmoil she had been going through all week, worrying about Jack and the tension at the restaurant. There was also the possibility that Phoebe Hollister was Hilary’s daughter. Phoebe couldn’t be ruled out. Why else would she have had Dr. Cranleigh’s card? Whoever Hilary’s daughter turned out to be, the thought that she could be the bad seed her mother had dubbed her sent shivers up Lucky’s spine.
She hadn’t had a chance as yet to look at the CDs that were stacked on the desk in the living room. She sighed and walked down the hall. Helen from the Salisbury Retreat had labeled each disc with the months and years of the newsletters she had recorded. The first began in January, three years prior. She slipped the first disc into the drive. Lucky clicked through the pages. Judging by the monthly dates, there were only six newsletters per year. Various articles were written by voluntary contributors. Other entries were interviews of heads of departments and staff doctors. Occasionally a more widely disseminated article was reprinted if the hospital felt it pertinent to their patients or the community. Each publication contained several photos. Many were of the building and grounds. She kept scrolling through and eventually came to some group photos where the names were listed. Some of the events were rummage sales, two blood drives, several open sessions for flu shots and one bake sale hosted by a local ladies’ auxiliary.
An hour passed as she carefully checked each newsletter. Finally she slipped the last CD from the stack into the drive. She rubbed her eyes and forced herself to focus. If only Georgina Ellers had been active at the Salisbury Retreat. This was such a long shot, but it was possible she had willingly or perhaps not so willingly been a volunteer to man a table or pass out flyers. So far, each photo had listed all the names of people in the group photos. The name “Georgina Ellers” was so firmly in her mind that she almost missed it. She gasped and scrolled back.
A dark-haired woman stood next to a table of used books for sale. She held a book in her hand, as if she were about to purchase it. Her name wasn’t listed under the photo, but there was no doubt in Lucky’s mind that the woman who stood by the table was Phoebe Hollister.
It took a moment for the shock to subside. Phoebe, guarded and unapproachable, had to be Hilary Stone’s daughter. This was too much of a coincidence. Lucky had been so focused on the Ellers name, the picture had taken her completely by surprise. Phoebe must have changed her name, or married, changing her surname.
Lucky printed out the page and reached over to the telephone. She dialed Sophie’s number. Sophie picked up on the second ring.
“You won’t believe what I’m looking at.”
“What’s going on?” Sophie asked.
“Remember the CDs I told you I borrowed from the Salisbury Retreat?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Phoebe. There’s a photo of her standing in front of a table at a used book sale on the hospital grounds.”
“She must have changed her name?” Sophie questioned.
“She must have. It’s her. She’s Hilary’s daughter.”
“What’s the date on that newsletter?”
“It’s . . .” Lucky quickly scrolled to the first page. “Two months ago. What are the odds that a personal assistant from a publishing house in New York was at a hospital in Bournmouth at that time? What are the odds that two women, Georgina, or whatever her name is now, and Phoebe, were connected with the same hospital?”
“I guess anything is possible. But how long has Phoebe worked for the publishing house?”
“I don’t know. Nate would know though. He’s questioned all of them.”
“You have to tell Nate.”
“I will. I’m calling him next. I just wanted to tell you first. And we’ll have to tell Meg and Barry and Horace and everyone too.” Lucky hung up and dialed Nate’s home number. When he answered, he sounded annoyed. “I am really sorry to bother you, Nate, but I have to tell you what I found. It could be important.”
He listened patiently and then whistled. “What do you know!” he exclaimed. “And how did you come across these old newsletters?”
Lucky explained her last visit to the Salisbury Retreat and her meeting with Helen, the keeper of the newsletters. “And of course there’s Dr. Cranleigh’s card that Meg found in Phoebe’s room.”
“Uh-huh. Thought I told you to stay out of this.”
Lucky groaned. “I’m sorry, Nate. You did, but I just thought . . .”
“I know what you thought,” he grumbled.
“How long has Phoebe worked for the publisher?”
“Not long. Not long at all.” Nate sighed, “Okay, this is interesting, very interesting. Thanks for calling. I’ll be paying another visit to Phoebe first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Will you let me know what she says?”
Nate sounded dubious. “I have no intention of encouraging your investigating,” he replied.
“Oh, come on, Nate.”
Nate smiled. “Well, I guess maybe you’ve earned the right to know. I’ll stop in at the Spoonful as soon as I can. Thanks again, Lucky.”
Lucky took a deep breath. She shook her head. They had been right about one thing. They were right to assume that Hilary’s daughter was on the scene. Lucky rubbed her forehead and thought back to the events of the last few days. Was their logic faulty? It was an assumption on their part that Dr. Cranleigh’s patient was the daughter of Hilary Stone. But the coincidence of a patient who lost both parents in a fire at a young age was too great. Fern had jumped to the same conclusion and knew immediately that the doctor’s patient was the adopted girl, Georgina Ellers. It had to be the same person. It had to be Phoebe Hollister. Granted, it was an intuitive leap on her and Sophie’s part, but that one fact was a connection between both murder victims. Was it possible it was only a coincidence that Phoebe Hollister had a connection to the Salisbury Retreat? Lucky shook her head. That was a very, very big coincidence.
Chapter 53
LUCKY HAD TOSSED and turned all night in an attempt to sleep. Dreams or nightmares kept waking her up. If Phoebe Hollister was in truth the woman they had been trying to find, was she a killer who strangled her psychiatrist and her own mother? And if so, how did Phoebe learn who her mother was and manage to penetrate her inner circle? Lucky’s dreams were populated with rushing trains and screams in the night. This morning, she’d gladly leave the problems to Nate Edgerton. Hopefully he would keep his word and stop in at the Spoonful later in the morning. She had enough other problems to worry about.
There was no doubt in her mind any longer that Nanette was targeting Jack. He was being set up, but for what reason? Nanette was definitely involved with the man at the cabin, but did she actually intend to go through with a plan to marry Jack? She had to tell her grandfather what she had learned, but when could she tell him and how could she find the words?
When Lucky arrived at the Spoonful, she slipped an apron over her head. She touched the design on the front gently. No way is this design going to change, Mom, I promise you, she thought. The warmth of the restaurant took the chill of the morning away. Delicious aromas emanated from the kitchen. Lucky peeked in. Sage was at the stove stirring a pot. He looked up and smiled.
“What are you making today?” she asked.
“I thought I’d try something with carrots and apples for a change.” He studied her face. “Heard you had an adventure last night,” he whispered.
“Sure did. A
nd I guess Sophie told you why I called late last night. We’ll have to tell the others.”
Sage nodded. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Determined.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows rose. A big grin spread across his face.
“She’s going. We’ve seen the last of our new waitress, at least as long as I’m here.”
“This I gotta see.” Sage seemed to have perked up. He grabbed a handful of carrots and began to peel them expertly.
“Is Sophie coming by this morning?”
“She said she would a little later. She wasn’t feeling too great earlier.”
“Oh? She okay?”
“I think so. Maybe just a touch of the flu.”
The phone on the kitchen wall began to ring. Lucky grabbed it. It was Nate. “Lucky, some not so good news.”
“What’s up, Nate?’
“Our Phoebe’s done a runner. She’s taken off. Disappeared.”
“How? When?”
“Sometime last night. She took a set of keys from Audra’s purse and drove away in Audra’s rental car. I’ve got an APB out for her. Hopefully, she’ll get picked up soon. I want her back here for questioning.”
“Oh, Nate. She must be Hilary’s daughter. Do you think she . . .” Lucky couldn’t bring herself to ask the question.
“It’s not looking good for her. I think she’s gonna have a lot to answer for.”
Lucky sighed. “I appreciate your calling, Nate.”
“I just wanted to keep you in the loop. You’re involved in this now, and with Meg’s attack, you all need to be on guard. Wherever she is, I doubt she’ll be back but do be careful. Keep an eye out in case she does decide to turn up. And warn the others too.”
Lucky hung up. Sage was looking at her questioningly. “That was Nate. Phoebe disappeared in the night. She stole Audra’s car and took off. Nate said to be on the lookout, in case she decides to come back.”
A Clue in the Stew Page 23