by Jill Nojack
Cassie nodded and headed for the door. “Tomorrow then, for sure. And Nat, you’re not getting out of it this time. You’re coming to the house. No excuses! You’re not even on shift tomorrow, so you’ll have plenty of time to do anything else you think you need to accomplish well before dinner time.”
Then she was out the door, with Gillian calling after her, “Robert and I will be there. And we’ll make sure that Natalie shows up, too.”
***
Robert pushed back the plate which had previously held seared cod along with an interesting fennel and celery salad his girlfriend had prepared . “Gilly, it was delicious. Thank you.”
Gerald Akers pushed his own plate away after disposing of the last shred of fish. “Excellent. I have to thank both of you for inviting me. I can’t imagine that I’m good company right now.”
Gillian patted his hand before she picked up his plate and added it to the pile she’d made with hers and Robert’s. “You’re always welcome, Gerald. Both of us understand how it feels to lose a spouse. It’s hard to believe right now, I know, that life goes on . . .” she smiled lovingly at Robert, “but it does. Even though the early days are so hard.”
Robert mumbled something that Gillian couldn’t hear as she left the room with the dishes.
When she returned with three small plates, an artful array of Battenberg cake slices, and a steaming pot of good English tea on a large tray, whatever Robert and Gerald had been talking about trailed off.
“Let me help you with that,” Robert said, grabbing the plates and distributing them. He offered Gerald the heaped tray of cake slices before setting them next to his own plate and serving several to himself. Gillian politely hid her smile behind her napkin. Oh well, she had him eating healthy otherwise, and he was still so thin, despite the baked goods. Let him eat cake.
After the men had finished their desserts and were lingering over tea, Gillian asked, “Gerald, have you decided what you’re going to do now? Will you be staying in town, or will you go back to Boston?”
“I’m staying here, but it won’t—I thought that being someplace as low impact as Giles would be good for Caroline. She was always very highly strung. I thought the easier pace of life would help her relax. But it just made her want to escape, I’m afraid. On the other hand, I was made for it. I could sit on my back porch looking out on the lake for hours.”
Robert leaned on his elbows and nodded. The overhead light reflected off the top of his scalp. “That’s right, you have lakefront, don’t you? One of the lucky ones; we’ve got to take quite a hike across Giles Woods to get there. It’s a beautiful house. There were people in town who worried that a new owner would modernize it so it didn’t fit with the surroundings, but you’ve left it with that natural look.”
“The interior has been significantly updated. The kitchen is very high-tech now. You’ll have to come for dinner once I’ve had more time to get to know it, but I’m not the cook that you are,” he said, nodding to Gillian. “It’s one of those things I always hoped to improve at during my retirement. It could be a while before I’m ready to host a dinner party.” He sighed, then perked up a little. “Do you fish?” he asked Robert.
“I do. Not as often as I used to, but I’ve got a rowboat on the lake. It’s always been a good place to clear my head after a long week of business or governing.”
“Eccellente! I hope you’ll allow me to join you sometime.”
Gillian’s head, which had begun to dip from the carbs and small talk snapped up again. “I knew the two of you would find common ground! Masters of enterprise, the both of you. You have a lot in common. By the way, Gerald, I noticed your Italian pronunciation is perfect. Do you speak Italian?”
“I’m fluent. I suppose it’s an affectation to throw a word in here or there, but I spent a year in Italy after completing college, until father called me home to start me in the business. Since he was a wine importer, it was a useful language to know.”
Gillian leaned in. “I imagine it would be. How interesting. And what stories do you have to tell? No one goes to Italy without returning with marvelous stories. I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours . . .”
Gillian listened quietly as Gerald grew more animated, talking about his long-distant youth. A part of her was pleased that the dinner had distracted him from his grief for a while, but another part of her made a mental note to tell Natalie what she had found out about his language skills.
17
It was just before noon and Natalie was pounding on the front desk at the police station. “Anyone here? There’s a restless member of the public who requires your attention.”
Denton’s voice boomed behind her. “Paula had to go home because one of her boys is sick. Do you think you could wait quietly for something just once in your life?”
She turned and gave him her most patient look, which was less like “I have all the time in the world” than “Do what I want now or I’ll turn you into a toad.”
“Dear Ms. Taylor, how may I assist you?” he continued as he walked behind the desk, but it sounded more like “I wish you a fiery death, you annoying old bat” than “Gracious lady, I am at your service.”
“Have you released the boy yet? If not, I’ve brought him a hearty lunch and my esteemed company.”
“Who says I’m letting in visitors?” the chief growled.
“I say you are unless you want to charge the boy and schedule an arraignment. You need to get him back to school—he’s an honors student, did you know that? An honors student who has never learned a word of Italian.” She held Denton’s eyes with her own as she emphasized the word.
“How do you know about that? You didn’t dirty my crime scene yesterday, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t. But I’d like to make a deal, Denton. Let me see the boy, and I’ll give you the gift of knowledge.” She continued to hold his eyes. There weren’t many who could last long in a staring contest with her. She had to admire that he still hadn’t flinched.
“Agreed. But you go first.” His gaze remained steady.
She reached into her purse and pulled out the scrap of paper with “impicciona” written on it. “That was in the pocket of the dress I wore the day I was attacked. I didn’t realize the connection at first. But one of your people slipped up about that little detail when you were harassing me behind my property this morning, didn’t they?”
“I don’t recall that they did,” he replied.
“I have better hearing than you might expect for a woman of my age. I can still tune in to an overexcited patrolman at his first murder talking just a turn of the knob too loud.”
“Fine. Give it to me. I’ll enter it in evidence.”
“By the way, unless I’m mistaken, the only suspect you have left is Gerald Akers, but I don’t like him for this. Do you?” Natalie hadn’t actually decided about Akers because he was far too emotional for her to want to make another visit. She hoped Gillian had a better handle on him after their dinner last night. But it couldn’t hurt to know what Denton thought.
He turned to dismiss her, “As far as I know, you’re not assigned to the case, so who you think is responsible is irrelevant. Let me get one of the officers to escort you to the boy’s holding cell. I’ll have them move a table and some chairs in so the two of you can eat comfortably.”
Natalie was surprised by that and felt suddenly generous. “Thank you,” she said. “Let me give you another tip: Lou Frank, the artist, previously known as Luigi Franconi, spoke Italian with his parents as a child. He grew up in Giles and left town right after the murders occurred. He is now back in town, and the murders seem to have started up again. I’d have a look in those old files to see if his name comes up.”
She hadn’t meant to tip him off that way. She’d meant to look into it herself after she’d talked to Cassie and Gillian. Denton would probably go putting his boot into it now and make a mess of things. What in the world had possessed her? But perhaps he would respond in kind.
“By the way,” she said as he led her toward the cells, “What Italian word did you find on Caroline Aker’s body?”
“Once again, Ms. Taylor, you’re not part of this investigation.”
She wasn’t feeling quite so generous anymore, but she put her annoyance aside as the officer opened the cell where Marcus was lying on a bunk, staring into space. “Ms. Taylor,” he said, sitting up. “You came to visit?”
“And I brought lunch. I have a permanent discount at the Diner of Earthly Delights. I expect it will be worthy eating.”
He dug into his food like he’d been starved for days. She knew that wasn’t the case; Robert would never let anyone in the town’s holding cells go hungry, although she suspected that Marcus had been enjoying a diet of packaged food from the Decent Food Mart, the local mini-grocery. Although its owners spoke English as a second language, she wasn’t convinced the store’s name was an endearing language mistake. Everyone shopped out of town unless they were looking only for convenience.
She wondered idly what it would cost to feed a teenage eating machine like this one.
***
That night, Natalie barely noticed the rich food laid out on the table as the others dug in, murmuring, “oh yes, pass the . . .” and “I don’t mind if I do . . .” and “a little won’t hurt, I’m sure . . .” as Tom’s menu choices for the night were passed around the table by his appreciative guests.
She picked at her food, distracted. Even the smell of ozone and the faint glimmer as William flashed into existence on the other side of the room only cheered her briefly.
She didn’t want to alarm the young people, but she’d had a feeling of unease since the moment she’d entered the house. She wished Cassie had started the evening with her concerns about Franconi, but the girl had insisted, “Fun first! Tom’s outdone himself to celebrate that you showed up tonight, Nat. We really thought we were never going to get you here.”
She wondered if Cassie had sensed something in the house that didn’t belong here. Something that was magic but not Cassie’s magic. It was easy to tell the difference; she knew from Cassie’s enfolding hug when she’d arrived that all of Cassie’s magic burned brightly at her center, wrapping itself around the baby to make a cocoon that nothing bad could penetrate. Natalie was sure she didn’t even know she was doing it.
No, this was something lurking, something other. And if Cassie sensed it, she was being very nonchalant about it. Then again, the girl was inexperienced. She hadn’t known about her powers for long.
As the meal progressed, Natalie became more and more unsettled and tired of the small talk. Before Tom brought out the dessert, she announced, “I need a tour of the house. Now.”
Every conversation at the table stopped, and every head turned to her. “Did you hear me? Your high priestess needs a tour of the house. Immediately. This is not a suggestion.”
Tom and Cassie looked at each other, confused, then Tom said, “Sure, Nat. Follow me.”
Although she’d been there many times when her mother had been John Stanford’s secretary, Natalie didn’t know the house well. Back then, she would wait in the big, public parlor to walk home with her mother after work because it was often dark by the time her employer allowed her to go. That was how Natalie had met William. And when he’d offered to drive them home one night, she’d thought he was just being a gentleman. Her mother was frequently tired, particularly after the full moon, but William knew nothing about the secret magic of Giles.
He’d been so innocent when he’d confessed that he had long admired her and would like to know her better. She could just be herself, just Natalie, when she was with him.
She took a deep breath and followed Tom up the stairs with Cassie and the rest of them trailing behind. This was no time to take a walk through ancient memories.
As they climbed, the sense of an intrusion grew stronger. Tom turned to the right at the top of the stairs, but Natalie turned left. “I’d like to see what’s over here. Do you mind?”
“Whatever you want, Nat. It’s our room, then the room we’ll be turning into the nursery, the library, and a smaller room I’ve already remade into the office. It’s the smaller of the two wings, but we like it better—it feels homier to have most of our living space in one place.”
“Yes. And less spooky to be in a different wing than William’s room, I expect . . .” She remembered how he’d used to wave goodbye to her from his window, then sneak out later to meet her after she’d delivered her mother home.
She continued down the hall, following the insistent buzz of the magic. She turned into the first doorway on the left, turning quickly back to Cassie. “Your room?”
Cassie nodded.
Natalie put a finger to her lips, cautioning silence. An uneasy silence fell. “Oh, my dear!” Natalie suddenly said, “it’s lovely! I see you’ve kept the period pieces. Such a nice choice.” She headed straight for the fireplace. This close to it, it was obvious where the magic she’d sensed was localized.
“This picture? It’s heavenly. Beautiful work.” She reached out for the frame and grasped the portrait with both hands. As questing magic flowed down her arms and toward the picture, she felt a definite sting. The portrait was protecting itself.
She pulled one hand away and stumbled backward, laying the back of it against her forehead. “I suddenly feel so weak, I…”
Tom rushed forward to catch her as she fell, allowing her legs to fold under her as the hand she still had on the painting grasped it just long enough to lay it face down on the wide mantel. The stinging sensation stopped immediately. There it was. The connection had been broken; whatever the magic was conducting away from the house, it wasn’t conducting it anymore.
She sat up, perfectly fine now, and said, “Well, isn’t anyone going to help me up?” Making use of one of the hands she was offered, she pulled herself back to her feet.
She brushed off their concern and motioned for them to follow as she led them like a line of ducklings down the stairs and out the front door.
“Everyone in your cars. We’ll meet at Robert’s house. See you soon.” She got into her own car and spun out toward the end of the long driveway, heading down the road toward Robert’s.
***
Robert’s place was in the newer section of the city, well on the other side of the lake, and Natalie was chilled by the time the others arrived. She’d forgotten her coat at Cassie’s in her rush to get the girl and her precious cargo away. She couldn’t be sure she’d completely disconnected whatever was flowing into or out of the house, and she hadn’t wanted to take any chances. She hugged herself and rubbed at her thin arms for warmth.
“About time!” she said when Robert stepped out of his big SUV and went around to help Gillian down from the passenger side. “I could have frozen to death waiting for you.”
Tom and Cassie pulled up in the station wagon behind Robert’s car and walked up to join them as Robert said, “We got here as quickly as we could while still obeying the speed limit. It might have helped if you’d let us in on why we suddenly needed to relocate.”
“Get me in the house in front of a space heater first. I’m not built for the cold anymore.”
Inside, they took their seats in Robert’s cozy study. In addition to being the warmest room in the house, it was also the one with the strongest and deepest wards. Natalie needed that more than she needed heat.
She inspected Tom’s hands and wrists, which were bare of jewelry—nothing but his wedding ring. Not even a watch. She leaned over to Cassie, “Have you recently gotten any new jewelry, anything you keep on your person all the time?”
Cassie shook her head and furrowed her brow. “No. Just my wedding ring, like Tom.”
“That’s fine. We know where those came from. Gillian, any new jewelry? Robert, any new furnishings? Any artwork?”
They both shook their heads.
“It looks like we should have no spies then, so let me tell you why I’ve call
ed you all here, shall I? I believe I’ve solved the mystery of who committed the Stanford murders, and it wasn’t a Stanford at all, just as I have always said.”
“You figured it out by taking a tour of the house?” Cassie asked.
“It wasn’t only a tour, dear. There was a presence in the house that didn’t belong, and no—it wasn’t William, although he did stop in momentarily. No, it was something else. I’m not sure quite what. It felt familiar, although I couldn’t say why.” She leaned in slightly toward Cassie. “I’m hoping you can shed light on it. What was it you wanted to tell us about Lou Frank?”
Tom’s head cocked toward Cassie. “Has that guy been bothering you again?”
“No, nothing with me. The last time I saw him, he came into the gallery to bring Dash a bottle of super-expensive champagne to apologize for the second time he’d treated him badly. And he had some big story—Sean had ruined one of his bronzes and put him in a bad mood or something. Like that was a good reason for being so totally out of line when Dash and Jon had him over for dinner.”
Natalie drummed her fingers on the table. “You had to have us to dinner for this? There must be more to it.”
“There is, Nat. Just give me a minute. The thing is . . . .” Her eyes rolled up and to the left, and her tongue circled inside her cheek. Finally, she said, “The thing that’s bothered me is that you both said you didn’t tell anyone that I was pregnant. And you guys are the only ones who knew. She looked from Natalie to Gillian. “Are you sure you didn’t say anything to anyone, even by accident?”
Gillian’s hand went to her heart like a pledge, and her eyes opened wide. “I know I didn’t.” She moved her hand to lay it on top of Robert’s and darted a glance at him before she turned back to meet Cassie’s eyes. ”Do you know how hard it was keeping it a secret from this one? But I knew you and Tom would want to tell him. So no, I told no one.”
Robert nodded his head. “In fact, I didn’t know until Tom told me tonight when he handed me a cigar before dinner. I assumed that’s what we were celebrating with dinner tonight.”