He huffed as if insulted. “I would much prefer to pay you exactly what it’s worth. Will you take it?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought. But you’ll consider my latest offer? It would make Emma so happy.”
Grace considered this statement and the old man who had pulled a chair to the side of her bed. After a minute, she cranked the top half of the bed up until she was eye to eye with Mosley. She said, “Are you saying Emma would want you to give me all that money? Just me. Not Winston or Niki. Why?”
“They aren’t in the house,” he said, as if the answer was obvious. “You won’t go until you sell it.”
She wanted to go. She was going. Still, his words stung.
But he wasn’t finished. “Besides, they got their share,” he said.
“What? Do you mean Winston and Niki?”
Mosley nodded. “She sent them both to college, all expenses paid. Winston played for three years before being arrested in a fraternity melee and expelled. Niki took six years and tried three different campuses before she got a degree in sociology and a husband who was older than her father.”
“But how? How could Emma pay for all of it? She didn’t have the money, did she?” Grace asked, uncomfortably aware of where a significant part of Emma’s assets had gone.
“She’d put the funds aside years ago when she set up your trust.”
Grace felt her heart ease a bit as one of the mysteries of her grandmother’s long-distance support was cleared up. Emma had treated all her grandchildren the same. But the story didn’t ring true. “I’d believe it of Winston,” she said. “But I don’t think Niki would take money from her grandmother when she knew how little Emma had.”
“What has Niki told you about her grandmother?” Mosley asked. “I’ll bet she said Emma was eccentric, wore old clothes and refused to spend money on anything, right?”
Grace nodded.
“Well, she spent plenty, but not on herself. She funneled the money through Stark,” Mosley shook his head. “The children believe their father paid for their education. We, I, wouldn’t want Niki to ever learn otherwise. Emma also paid for Winston’s rehab stints and made his bail when he was arrested. Every time he was arrested.”
Grace remembered Niki’s description of her marriage and its end. “Did she also arrange for a generous divorce settlement for Niki?” she asked.
Mosley smiled, but it was sad. “And money to turn the house into an inn.”
“Which Niki believed came from Stark.”
“Emma thought if she made sure you all had happy lives, away from Delaney House, you’d be protected. No one is safe like that, but Emma tried.”
Grace’s head hurt and her body ached, but Mosley’s words had jogged something loose. “You’re still trying, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I promised,” he said. “I promised my client her last wishes would be honored.”
“Her money’s gone, Cyrus. You’re using your own. That’s not right.”
“You give me far too much credit, my dear.” He rose and walked to the door. “I’ll hand Delaney House over to the Eastern Shore Historic Preservation Commission. Avril can take charge of finishing the renovation, and I’ll take the donation as a tax deduction for the rest of my life. Win, win.”
It was so, so tempting.
Chapter Forty-Three
The hospital was happy enough to let her go and the staff at the Egret Inn was gracious, but the law of small town life subverted her plan before she could get to her room. Avril Oxley emerged from the hotel dining room just as Grace finished checking in. There was no denying she was staying at the hotel, she had the room key card in her hand.
Her head was pounding and her back hurt. Sleep was an immediate need. She let herself be corralled into the adjacent bar, partially because the chairs by the fireplace looked so comfy, but mostly because Avril was on her like a hyper terrier after a bone. Also, the bar served food and she was starving.
“Why are you here? What happened?” Avril demanded. “That police officer at the hospital wouldn’t let me in to see you. Nazi! Were you under arrest?”
Grace said, “I hope you didn’t tell anyone else that.”
“Of course not,” Avril snapped. Grace would have liked to hear more sincerity in her voice. “But why did you have a police officer at your door?”
Grace adjusted her sling, giving an overly dramatic wince in hopes of some sympathy. Avril just leaned in closer.
“Winston attacked me. He caused the fire and other vandalism and he did this.” Forgetting her injury, Grace used the wrong hand to motion to her face. This time the wince was genuine.
“I knew it! That boy is a bad egg. But why wasn’t he arrested? I saw him out and about yesterday, free as a bird.”
“A turkey vulture maybe,” Grace muttered.
“What?”
“It’s a serious charge and the police are investigating. He and Bryce Cutter are in some kind of scheme together. Bryce was there when Winston did this. Bryce also drugged me. I don’t know how I fell down the steps and dislocated my shoulder, but I was unconscious when it happened.”
Avril sat back and stared at Grace in frank disapproval. “I heard you were saying that. Also heard you were drinking - not that anyone would blame you, but still. Nobody believes Bryce Cutter is in cahoots with the likes of Winnie Delaney.”
Several people turned to stare at them, but Grace was too tired and sore to care. Everything hurt, including her heart. She said, “They were clever. They pretended to find me in the basement and they spread the lies about the wine. No one believes me, so you’re in good company. I want to thank you for all you did for me. You were kind to let me stay with you, and to help Cyrus with my clothes. Right now, I need a place to recuperate and I’m doing it here. I’ve told everyone, including Cyrus, I’m going out of town and I would appreciate it if you helped me keep that secret. It’s important.”
“Why?” Avril was still pugnacious, but she was listening.
“Chief McNamara wants me out of town so he can remove my police protection.” It was partly true. McNamara had sounded happy when she’d told him she was leaving town.
Avril’s shoulders slumped and she seemed to lose some of her steam.
“Cyrus also wants me out of town for my safety. I don’t want the Delaneys or Bryce to know where I am for obvious reasons.”
Avril’s chin came up and she started to protest. “Bryce wouldn’t —”
“Listen to me!” Grace demanded, then lowered her voice to a hiss. “I can’t use my left arm and I have a concussion, fourteen stitches and a cracked rib. I need to take care of myself without constantly looking over my shoulder. So can you keep my secret or not?”
Avril’s agreement was terse and anything but comforting, but Grace took it. Once in her room, she left instructions at the desk to not give out her name and to hold any calls. Then, using her one good hand and a lot of swearing, she managed to wedge a chair under the knob of the locked and chained door before she crawled in between the crisp linen sheets and into oblivion.
Either Avril kept her secret, or no one cared enough to look for her because Grace spent the next three days in her room without interruption from anyone other than the hotel staff and room service. Avril dropped off a small suitcase of her clothes but sent it up with the porter.
Grace called McNamara once, to let him know where she was and to learn no action was being taken on her complaints against Bryce and Winston. They had alibied each other and Bryce had the additional support from Henry, who claimed to have been with his cousin during the time Grace lay unconscious on the basement floor. While technically possible, the time frame was tight for Bryce to meet with Henry in between drugging and assaulting Grace.
“It happened,” she said wearily.
“Arguments, bad ones, certainly can seem like assault.” McNamara’s tone was irritatingly calm. “And you said you don’t remember him hitting you or pushing you down the sta
irs.”
“He drugged me!”
“Yes, well, about that.”
She knew what was coming and wanted to cry.
“Your tests at the hospital didn’t reveal anything conclusive other than alcohol in your system.”
“How much alcohol?”
“You could drive legally, but if you’re sensitive to alcohol or taking medication, it could be enough to make you unsteady.”
“Chief, please listen. I remember everything before I passed out. Everything. Could a drunk say that?”
There was silence from McNamara’s end. Then, “Possibly. But what are you suggesting?”
“You’re familiar with Rohypnol?”
“Of course. Are you saying Bryce Cutter gave you a date rape drug?”
“I am. I’ve had plenty of time for research, and I definitely believe Bryce laced the wine with something. I don’t know when they tested my blood at the hospital, but Rohypnol leaves the system quickly, if that’s what he used.”
More silence. Then he said, “Why don’t you stay put at the Egret until you hear from me. No calls, no visitors. Not even Mosley, unless you insist on legal counsel from him.”
“I don’t need legal counsel,” she said through clenched teeth. “No calls, no visitors. But Chief?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m trusting you.” She meant it as a warning, but it felt like a plea.
Her phone glowed with the green dots of unopened voice mail. She called Mosley so she could remove half of the stacked up messages without having to listen to them.
“Are you alright?” he demanded by way of a greeting.
“Yes, better every day, thanks.” Her shoulder and arm still ached and her head still pounded when she stood too fast, but she was healing.
“I’ve been trying to reach you and I was worried. You were supposed to stay in touch.”
“And here I am.” She tried to sound sincere, but Mosley’s sigh said she wasn’t successful.
“My receptionist has been retrieving your mail from your post office box as you requested. There’s a letter from Cutter Enterprises. Should I open it?”
Grace thought he probably was looking at it, but told him to go ahead. After a pause, he said, “You must have expected this. Bryce Cutter has withdrawn his crews and equipment and canceled your contract.”
“I don’t suppose there’s a check for the remainder of the last advance I gave him?”
“Hardly. A bill for a balance due on the account, $347.00 and an accounting of the expenses.”
Grace tried to imagine the state the house was in. “I’ll be interested to compare it to my records. I’d estimate he owes me at least ten thousand, depending on the value of the materials left at the house.”
“I can go over and have a look,” Mosley offered. “No need for you to come back to handle this. Have you thought any more about my offer?”
She had. A lot. “I’ll be back in a day or so, but I’d like to keep that between us. I’ll have an answer for you then.”
“I can get the paperwork ready quickly. You could be on your way in the blink of an eye.”
She groaned and said, “You’re quite a salesman. I hate not to see the project through, though.”
“Understandable, but neither wise nor necessary. I’ll finish restoration with a new contractor and then turn it over to the Historical Society with an endowment to maintain it.”
Something was off in his voice.
“I thought you were going to let Avril handle all that.”
“Yes, well. It’s not the best time to approach her. She’s a bit upset with me.”
“Me, too,” Grace said. “But why is she upset with you?”
“She’s planning a funeral for her sister and we don’t see eye to eye on the details.”
Audrey’s funeral. Grace had forgotten all about it. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“It all happened a long time ago and should stay there.” His words were hard and didn’t invite her comment.
She agreed to meet Mosley on Monday at ten. She had a day and a half to recover her fighting strength and decide if she should finish Delaney House. After Mosley, she handled the few calls from DC friends and work colleagues and ignored two calls from Stark. Avril’s rambling message said she believed Grace was confused about Bryce’s role in her accident, but to call her if she wanted to move back in. There was warmth in the old woman’s shaky voice and a note of genuine regret.
The message from Henry Cutter she saved until last. It was brief - he wanted to talk.
“Thanks for returning my call,” he said when she reached him. “I mean, I wasn’t sure you would and I really wanted to talk to you again.” The sound of his voice made her want to cry. She had missed him.
“How are you?” she managed.
“I, uhm. Well, I know you got a letter from Bryce and I know things aren’t settled between you yet, but I wanted to tell you I reviewed all of the expenses and the labor costs and you don’t owe us any money. In fact, we’ll be issuing a refund to you. I wanted you to hear that from me.”
She was a lawyer. She knew to keep her mouth shut and put her carefully considered responses in writing. She said, “They hurt me, Henry.”
“Grace, please…”
“It was calculated and vicious. Winston wanted to do more, but Bryce stopped him.” He didn’t respond, but she could hear him breathing. “He said any more damage would be hard to explain with a fall.” She strained to hear something, any reaction from Henry, but he was silent. “I had police protection,” she rushed on, anger rising. “Just because there wasn’t enough evidence to charge Bryce and Winston doesn’t mean the police didn’t believe me. Talk to Chief McNamara.”
“I wanted to let you know I’ll take care of the money, but I can’t…”
“My blood alcohol level was negligible, Henry! McNamara has the report. Please, Henry, talk to him.” She was begging now, unable to stop the words. “Bryce drugged me. Put something in the wine. I can’t prove it, but I know he did. I passed out. I… I think they threw me down the stairs.”
The silence had changed. Henry was gone.
Chapter Forty-Four
She could only hide for so long. As disturbing as it was, the call from Henry was a catharsis. As her body healed and she grew stronger, the release of the last tie of friendship gave her wings. Henry - sweet, kind Henry - had made her mad, and anger made her move.
The hotel room lost its sickroom air and became an office. Get moving! Do something! The words came at her on Sunday when she opened her laptop. Using what she’d learned during the initial restoration of Delaney House, she worked out a basic, but thorough, plan to complete the renovation. She even calculated an over-run budget and schedule. She’d never again assume anything would work as planned where the house was concerned.
On Monday she called Mosley and declined his latest offer to purchase the house. She braced herself for an argument, but he only sounded disappointed. She agreed to let him know if she changed her mind and on impulse invited him to dinner.
“I’m staying at the Egret,” she said, carefully avoiding an outright lie about her non-existent trip to DC “We can have dinner here and I’ll tell you my plans.”
“Alright.” Mosley sounded as if he expected a catch to the rare overture. “In the meantime, promise me you won’t be in Delaney House alone.”
In spite of Mosley’s unsettling warning, a week after the attack, she let herself into her house and locked the door behind her.
Cutter Enterprises had left a neat work site. No spray painted messages, no ‘accidents’. All of their equipment was gone and the house had been swept clean. Just a half finished job waiting for the next round of workers. The third-floor apartment seemed to be undisturbed, except that someone, she prayed it was only Avril, had been through her clothes.
She called the security company and agreed to pay an emergency premium for immediate service. While she waited, she slowly packed up her clo
thes and loaded the BMW. By the time the locksmith arrived, she was weak with exhaustion and her shoulder and ribs ached.
Keep moving.
Two hours later, new keys in her pocket, she changed the security code, set it and locked up. She couldn’t stay at the Egret Inn forever, but her budget could handle another week. Surely she could grow a backbone and sleep in her own bed by then.
If she’d had any doubt of the power of a small town rumor mill, it was settled that afternoon. As she made call after call to local construction companies, she got variations of the same response. Those who were polite said they were too busy to take over the renovation. The others just said no. She and Delaney House were pariahs.
“I’m not surprised,” Mosley said when she relayed the news over dinner. “It isn’t only the accusations you’ve made against Bryce. “I’ve had three calls today from people in the business community wanting to know if it’s true the ownership of Delaney House is in question. Someone, I’m guessing Stark, spread the word there would be a suit over the sale.”
“On what grounds?” Grace demanded.
“That Emma was non compos mentis when I executed the sale to you, and I knowingly accepted a sale price below market value without considering better offers.”
“Were there better offers?”
“No, but it’s hard to prove a negative. If Stark’s behind this, he’s on a fishing expedition to see if my malpractice insurance will settle something on him.”
“Does he have any proof Emma wasn’t capable of representing her own best interests?”
Mosley laughed, but he didn’t look happy. “He may think he does, but I can prove she was cognizant and legally capable. Not my first rodeo, isn’t that the expression? I had her physician and the social worker assigned to the assisted care facility talk to her outside of my presence and I have their affidavits. I also did exhaustive comparisons of property sales. Your price was low but given the work the house needed, not unreasonable. And there isn’t exactly a booming market for houses that size. Emma knew all of the details and was able to explain everything to her doctor and the social worker.”
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