Death of the Party

by Carolyn Hart

  “Deadly dangerous.” Max looked at him curiously.

  A tic jerked at Gerald’s thin mouth. His eyes were wide and staring. Abruptly, he looked over his shoulder. Turning, he took two strides, closed the front door, and once again faced Max. “That last afternoon, Millicent threatened Jeremiah. I heard her. She said, ‘I’ll see you dead first.’ Jeremiah laughed. He was ruthless, you know. And he hated women who cheated on their husbands. He told her he was going to run a full-page editorial the week before the election, tell the world about her young lover, then quote her pious blathers about home and family. She tried to bluster, told him he was wrong, that the story wasn’t true. He cited dates and hotel room numbers. He pulled out a folder and said he had pictures of her with her lover. I was in the hallway by the library. I heard every word. I saw her face when she came out. If she’d had a gun with her, Jeremiah would have died then. He died the next morning. She set the trap. She killed him.”

  Annie paused at the fountain, puzzled. If Kim were en route to her cabin, she should have curved around the fountain and taken the path into the forest. Instead, there were ferns quivering only a few feet away, ferns that lapped over a path that led—if Annie remembered correctly—to a lagoon and gazebo. Why would Kim go in that direction? Annie hesitated, unable to decide. Of course, she’d taken a moment in the kitchen to find a knife and her progress through the garden had been slow and cautious. Finally, with a shrug, she took the main path into the woods and headed for Kim’s cabin.

  Annie wished she had the skill of James Fenimore Cooper’s forest-savvy Hawkeye. Instead of moving with grace and stealth, her every step snapped another twig. She reached the edge of the clearing around Kim’s cabin, heart beating, alert for any signs of ambush. If Kim had stolen the gun from Max’s bag, pursuit might be foolish. Or fatal.

  Annie took a deep breath, crossed the clearing. She climbed the steps, knocked on the door. “Kim?”

  There was no answer and no movement inside.

  Annie hesitated, then opened the door, poked her head inside. The cabin was clearly empty. So much for following Kim and finding out what she’d been doing in the house.

  Annie closed the door, hurried down the steps. She was ready to take the outer path, her goal Everett’s cabin, when she heard the crackling sound of someone approaching. Annie stepped behind a pine and waited.

  Kim strode into the clearing from the diagonal path. She looked pleased with herself, a slight smile touching her round face. She didn’t look right or left, marching straight to the steps, one hand clamped on the strap to her shoulder bag.

  Annie stared at the bag, intent as a cormorant spotting menhaden. If Kim was the thief, the gun was in her purse. There was no bulge in her black zippered sweater, and her black slacks fit sleekly. Her steps rattled on the stairs.

  Annie knew this was the moment to catch Kim. She would have no opportunity to hide the gun. Annie frowned. Kim might possibly have hidden the gun in the forest or near the lagoon.

  Kim was at the door, reaching out to turn the knob.

  Annie took a deep breath. So her roles had been off-Broadway. She’d been good. Not good enough to pursue an acting career, but good. She plunged into the clearing. “Kim—hey, Kim!” Voice bright. Big smile.

  “Maybe.” Max looked thoughtfully at the longtime Addison Media employee. His accusation could be true. Millicent McRae’s anguish at her husband’s knowledge of her unfaithfulness was a memory Max would be long in forgetting. This morning he and Annie and Britt had seen more of Millicent’s heart and soul than strangers should. For now, he had to remember that searing moment. Of them all, Millicent might have the most compelling motive. Max didn’t doubt she would do anything to protect her marriage. She had committed adultery. Whatever her motive, lust or loneliness or infatuation, clearly she loved Nick. But Millicent surely had not been the only person over-wrought by Jeremiah’s threats. Max recalled Everett’s totting up of motives on the sheet of paper Annie took from the cabin.

  “You overheard Millicent and Jeremiah.” Max’s tone was pleasant. “Then you went in to see him. Right? He was pretty nasty about you and Craig.” It wasn’t a question.

  Angry splotches flared in Gerald’s cheeks. He doubled his fists, took a step forward.

  Max waited, his own hands curling tight. He was twenty pounds heavier, twenty-five years younger. But if Gamble wanted a fight, he could have one.

  Gerald whirled, stalked to the door, his steps pounding.

  Max hurried after him. “Hold up, man. Keep quiet about Everett. Don’t tell anyone…”

  Gerald was halfway across the clearing. He didn’t look back.

  “Damn.” Max jammed his fingers in his hair. He’d lost control of the encounter, though obviously there was no way he could have made Gerald remain at the cabin. The likelihood was good that he was on his way to find Craig. As Gerald strode into the forest, he heard Britt call out, “Gerald. Where are you doing here?” She sounded surprised. And wary.

  Max thudded down the stairs, ran to the path. Gerald was facing the golf cart.

  Britt saw Max. The relief on her face indicated the depth of her uneasiness in unexpectedly confronting Gerald. Max approved of her caution. None of them could afford to forget that one familiar face masked a clever and ruthless killer.

  “Gerald.” Max was conciliatory. “I’d appreciate some help at the cabin. I sent Britt to find a camera. It’s important we put together a record so the sheriff will know there’s been no tampering with the crime scene. Will you take the pictures for me? That will free Britt to make the circuit of the cabins and pick up the statements for Craig.”

  Clearly Gerald wanted to leave. But he was a responsible man and he had worked for JeremiahAddison for many years. “All right.” His tone was grudging. “I can do that.”

  Britt looked relieved. Max knew she wouldn’t have complained but obviously she preferred not to be in the cabin with Everett’s body. She gave Gerald a grateful look. “Thank you.”

  “And, Gerald, if you have your report handy, Britt can take it.”

  Gerald gave a bark of laughter. “You want those statements in hand before anyone knows about Everett. No creative touching up, right?” He answered himself. “That’s fair enough. God knows this has to be dealt with. Someone”—his eyes looked haunted—“is dangerous as hell.” He reached into an inner pocket, pulled out several folded sheets, handed them to Britt.

  Britt took the sheets. “I’ll take good care of them. I won’t let any of the reports out of my sight.”

  Max checked his watch. Eleven-twenty. “Ask everyone to meet at the house at noon. Tell them I have some information for them.” He bent to retrieve the legal pad, measuring tape, and plastic bags from the passenger seat of the cart. He handed the camera to Gerald.

  Britt nodded. “I’ll hurry. That will give me time to get back to the house and write up my report.”

  As the cart chugged away, Max called out. “Britt, keep an eye out for Annie.” He was deliberately vague.

  “She was going to take a look around the cabins. I thought she’d be back by now.”

  He’d not liked the idea of Annie making the circuit of the cabins even though she might learn something of value. As he followed Gerald up the stairs into Everett’s cabin, Max reassured himself. Annie was safe enough. After all, she had the gun.

  Nine

  “I WAS HOPING I’D CATCH YOU.” Annie was as cheery as a real estate agent pushing a million-dollar house. She darted across the clearing and up the stairs before Kim could open the door.

  Kim half turned toward Annie, her expression startled. There was no trace of concern. “Catch me?”

  Annie contrived to trip on the top step, propel herself forward, arms windmilling. As she collided with Kim, Annie reached out, apparently grabbing for support. Her hand clutched the strap of the purse, pulling it loose. Annie tumbled to one side and the purse was dumped upside down, its contents bouncing onto the porch. “Oh golly, I’m sorry. The
porch is slick. Ouch, I banged my knee.” Annie sat awkwardly, massaging her left knee. Her right hand was within inches of the knife in her sweater pocket.

  “My camera,” Kim wailed, and she was on her hands and knees reaching for a sleek silver digital camera. She grabbed it, checked for damage.

  “I’m so sorry. I hope it’s okay. Here, I’ll help pick everything up.” Annie scrambled closer, grabbed the purse. The minute she lifted the black Coach bag, her thudding heart slowed. The leather purse was heavy but not heavy enough to hold a gun. With an apologetic smile, Annie opened it wide and started retrieving the spilled contents. She dropped in a change purse, billfold, compact, address book, three pens. Kim absently picked up some items, but she was still inspecting her camera.

  It only took a moment, then Kim, fluid and graceful, came to her feet. She reached down, helped Annie up. Kim slipped the purse strap over one shoulder. Her attention was still focused on the camera. She turned toward Annie, lifted it, pushed the button. There was a bright flash. “It’s okay. Come on in.”

  Annie, still apologizing, followed her into the cabin. “…these shoes skid on wet wood. I’m awfully sorry…” As she chattered, she wondered where Kim had been. And why. Annie settled on the sofa and looked at the coffee table. For an instant, there was a chilling memory of Everett’s identical coffee table and the legal pad with missing sheets. Kim’s legal pad, obviously new and untouched, was pristine. Nothing had been written on it and no sheets torn away.

  Kim saw her gaze. “Oh, yeah. I’ve got to get that done.” She dropped her purse casually on the floor, but she still held the camera. She lifted it, aimed with the ease of long practice, swiftly took three more pictures of Annie. “How long have you been working for Britt?”

  Annie was startled.

  Kim leaned forward. “Are you and your husband partners or do you handle secretarial stuff?”

  Annie realized with a flash of surprise that she was being interviewed. “Partners.” Her response was automatic and true though perhaps not in the sense meant by Kim.

  Kim’s smile was admiring. “Running a detective agency must be fascinating. I doubt too many clients walk through the door and ask you to find a murderer. Tell me how you felt when Britt hired you.”

  Annie was intrigued. Kim’s smile invited confidences. Her gaze was warm. She was laying on the charm, hoping for an exclusive about the gathering on Golden Silk. “That’s a good angle for a story,” Annie replied. She could play the admiration game, too. “Is that what you’ve been working on this morning instead of your report?”

  Kim’s smile fled. Obviously, she preferred to ask questions rather than answer them. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you near the house a little while ago.” Annie’s hand hovered near the concealed knife. “I wondered what you were doing there.” Stealing Max’s gun? Grabbing our papers?

  Kim looked satisfied. “Nothing that would interest you. I’m looking for a ticket back to the big time. I’m going to scoop the hell out of Everett.”

  Annie challenged her. “If you’ve found out anything to help solve Jeremiah’s murder, Craig Addison will insist you reveal it.” Not to mention the police.

  Kim shook her head. “I don’t have anything new. If I did, I’d take it right to Craig. That would get me hired.” She gave a little shrug. “Unless he’s the one that pushed dear old Dad down the stairs.”

  She claimed to be working on a story…. Annie glanced at the silver camera Kim had placed on the coffee table. “Were you taking pictures?”

  Now Kim didn’t look quite so pleasant, her eyes cold and determined. “What I do is none of your business. And damn sure none of Everett’s business.”

  Annie stared into glittering blue eyes. Kim was either innocent of Everett’s murder or an arrogant killer spreading a smokescreen. “I won’t be telling Everett anything. You can count on it. Anyway you’re obviously leagues ahead of him.” Being alive was a definite advantage.

  Kim gloried in Annie’s admiring tone. “You bet I am. He’s not a real reporter. While he’s lying around this morning—”

  Annie recalled that still form and grayish face and perfect pompadour and blood.

  “—I was working. The world will know all about it when I sell the story.”

  “Look,” Annie said, “if you’ll tell me what you were doing”—Kim was out of her cabin during the critical moment when Everett was shot. If she was innocent of Everett’s murder, where had she been? Had she seen anyone?—“I’ll give you an exclusive on being hired by Britt. I won’t breathe a word to Everett about what you’ve discovered.”

  Kim brushed back a golden curl, her face thoughtful. Slowly she nodded. “All right.” Her gaze was avid. “You first.”

  Annie wished for the inventiveness of Agatha Christie’s Tuppence Beresford in N or M. Tuppence was never at a loss for easy prattle. Further, Annie had to come up with something interesting enough for Kim to consider a trade of information worth her while. Annie scooted to the edge of the chair, opened her eyes wide. “When Britt explained the situation, I had the most extraordinary feeling. I wouldn’t claim to be psychic—”

  There was a flicker of disdain in Kim’s eyes, but her encouraging smile never wavered. She wrote fast as Annie spoke.

  “—but I felt distinctly cold. An unearthly coldness. It was as though I’d stepped onto a glacier. I knew then that something dreadful was going to happen if Britt reunited everyone on the island.” Annie imagined Kim’s breathy tones in a voice-over: Private Investigator Annie Darling shared her innermost foreboding and her conviction that the deadly specter of Death awaited all who traveled to Golden Silk. “Max insisted she contact the sheriff instead. She refused. In fact, she was on her way out of the office when he stopped her. When he realized she was determined to proceed, he agreed for us to come. He was afraid the murderer might attack her. Britt insisted on going forward even though she understood the danger. My own feeling at the time”—Annie lifted a hand to her throat, an artistic gesture—“was one of deep foreboding.” Annie dropped her voice. “I felt even worse the next morning when we were on our way to Golden Silk.” There was sincerity in her tone. “I sensed impending doom. I was touched by emanations of evil. I truly believe Golden Silk harbors death.” Annie doubted even Tuppence could have topped this performance.

  Kim finished her notes with a flourish. “Okay. That’s good.” Another sharp look. “You won’t give this to Everett?”

  Annie’s pleasure in playacting seeped away. “No. I won’t tell Everett. Where did you go this morning?”

  Kim looked as satisfied as a cat in the sun. “I had the run of the island. Everyone was tucked in a cabin, writing about that weekend. I got pix of the boathouse and Harry’s cabin and the smashed desk in the library. Everett’s not a real reporter.” Her disdain was evident. “All he knows are scripts. When we get off this island, I’ll have the story and the pix and he can eat his heart out.”

  Every word could be true. Perhaps Kim had done as she claimed, hoping for an exclusive. If so, she hadn’t been near the cabins at the critical time. There might be proof of that. “May I see the pictures?” Some digital cameras record not only the date but the time the picture was taken.

  “You’ll see them when the story runs.” Kim slipped the camera into her pocket. “Now, why did you want to catch me?”

  The better to eat you, my dear…Annie managed another bright smile. “I think you are the very best person to help us trap Jeremiah’s murderer.”

  This time flattery didn’t charm. Kim’s cold blue eyes regarded Annie thoughtfully. “Why me?”

  “Well,” Annie said, settling into the cushions with the air of a woman ready for a just-between-us-girls chat, “as I understand it, wedding bells were going to ring.” Annie made no mention of Cissy. What was an invalid wife when discussing the course of true love?

  Kim rocked back against the sofa, locking her fingers around one knee. “It was a little early for an announcement.
” Her voice was bland. “But yes, that was our plan.”

  “You were almost the only person on the island who wasn’t angry with Jeremiah.” Annie looked at her eagerly. “You must have been in his confidence. Did he plan something that one of them simply wouldn’t tolerate? Or was he afraid of one of them?”

  For an instant, Kim looked discomfited, her expression defensive.

  Annie was as sure as though Jeremiah stood in the room with them, his face sardonic and a trifle cruel, that Kim had romanticized her relationship with him. She hadn’t been in his confidence. She was a pretty girl and he enjoyed pretty girls, and that was the extent of his interest.

  Kim’s smile was feminine and secretive, but her eyes still looked cold. “We had better things to do than waste our time talking about people he despised. Craig irritated him because he was always trying to take over. Jeremiah said he didn’t trust Craig’s instincts. Jeremiah was disappointed in Jay. He thought Jay was weak and indecisive. Jeremiah loathed Britt, called her a blood-sucking leech. But he was never afraid of anybody.” She loosed her hands, reached for the legal pad. “I’d better get this done.”

  Annie knew better than to press for more. Kim didn’t want to talk further about Jeremiah’s last weekend and reveal how much or how little she knew of his plans.

  Annie sighed and stood up. “I have to go up to the house. I promised I’d help with lunch. I hate to go by myself. It’s spooky there. I keep imagining noises. Once I thought it sounded like someone falling down stairs.” She shivered. “I think I’ll look around for Britt. Did you see her or anyone while you were out?” Annie hoped Kim would think this an inconsequential question, a nervous woman seeking company.