by Leona Karr
“I’m afraid there’s nothing to do but wait,” he told Ashley as they turned away from the desk. “I need to make some calls. I’ll be as quick as I can. Would you like to have me bring you back some coffee?”
She shook her head and swallowed hard. For a moment, she had the absurd urge to insist that he didn’t leave her.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I’ll only be a few minutes, I promise.” He gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder, turned and disappeared down a nearby hall.
She found an empty chair in the crowded room and sank down into it.
AS BRAD made his way to a small office he’d used before when conducting business from the hospital, he was puzzled why he felt so personally involved in this investigation. He’d handled plenty of traumatic situations when he had been an investigator in the State Enforcement Bureau. Plenty of heart-rending tragedies. Plenty of attractive, appealing women. What was it about Ashley Davis that made everything about this one different? Was it because she’d stood up to him and openly questioned his competence? Just this morning in the café, she’d even been trying to do his job.
“Dammed if I know why she gets to me,” he muttered to himself.
He called his superior in Portland and brought him up to date. “I don’t know how soon I’ll be able to question the victim. She’s in emergency now, and we’re waiting to hear if she makes it.” They talked for a few more minutes.
When Brad returned to the emergency room, he waited with Ashley. It was nearly noon when a young doctor gave them the news.
“She’s conscious and her condition is stable.” He told them she’d been moved to a private room. “You can see her for a few minutes.”
LORRIE’S EYES were open when they entered her room, and her lips curved in a weak smile as Ashley bent over and kissed her cheek.
“You had me scared, Loribelle,” she said, using a pet name.
“Sorry, Sis,” she whispered weakly.
“You’re going to be all right. The doctor says so.” She motioned Brad to come closer to the bed. “This is Officer Brad Taylor.”
“Nice to meet you, Lorrie.” He bent over the bed and smiled down at her.
Lorrie stared up at him and then said weakly, “Big one, isn’t he?”
Ashley chuckled. Leave it to Lorrie to say whatever came into her mind. At that moment, for the first time since the horrible nightmare began, she truly believed her sister was going to be all right.
“Could I ask you a few questions, Lorrie?” Brad asked politely in a nonthreatening tone.
“It’s all fuzzy…like a bad dream,” she said in a tremulous voice. “What happened…what happened to me?”
“Someone knocked you out and put you afloat in a boat,” Brad answered evenly. “Lorrie, do you know anyone who might want to harm you?”
In a weak voice, she whispered, “Maybe Sloane.”
“Why Sloane, Lorrie?”
Ashley could tell Brad knew who Lorrie was talking about, but before her sister could answer, a nurse interrupted them.
“You have to leave now. Doctor’s orders.”
“Can’t I stay with her?” Ashley protested.
“All you would do is watch her sleep,” the nurse answered briskly. “Come back tomorrow. She’ll be ready for a visit.”
“It’s okay, Sis,” Lorrie mumbled weakly. “Tell the Langdons—”
“Don’t worry about the inventory,” Ashley said. “I’ll work on it until you’re well.” Her background and experience in textiles was strong enough to satisfy the auction company.
She kissed Lorrie’s cheek and blinked back tears as they left the room. She felt totally drained, but as they made their way out of the hospital, anger began to surface. “Who is Sloane?”
“A drifter. Comes and goes. Works the lobster boats sometimes. Makes just enough money to keep himself in drink and cheap food.” Brad clenched his jaw. “He’s bought himself a pile of trouble this time if he’s the one who did this.”
“You’ll arrest him?”
“If there’s any evidence he’s guilty.”
“Lorrie said it was Sloane!”
“No, she said it could have been Sloane,” Brad corrected her. “That’s a big difference from saying she knew for certain he was the one who knocked her out and set her adrift in the rowboat.”
“Who else could it be? My sister doesn’t go around making enemies.”
“I promise I’ll check on Sloane, up, down and sideways. If he’s the one, he’ll pay plenty for this attempt at murder.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“We’ll just have to keep looking.”
A HEAVY SILENCE engulfed them as they headed back to the island. Brad was lost in his own thoughts. Ashley was weak with relief that her sister had been found alive; that miracle crowded out everything else.
It was midafternoon when they docked the patrol boat.
Brad said, “I’ll drive you back to the Langdons’.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather walk,” Ashley replied quickly. “I need some time to myself. You know, digest everything that’s happened.” Her voice choked. “Thank you for finding Lorrie…saving her life…and everything.”
“You’re the one with courage,” he replied gently. “I wish I had a sister who would turn the world upside down for me if I was in trouble.” As if surprised by what he’d said, he added briskly, “I’ll keep you posted.”
She walked quickly past the cluster of buildings dotting the area around the wharf and started back up the road she’d walked that morning.
Now that the fog had lifted, she could see summer cottages hugging the shoreline and nestled in wooded areas. Most of them seemed deserted.
The moanful cry of a loon seemed to follow her as she made her way along the high bluff where the Langdon mansion rose against the sky.
As she approached the front door, it opened suddenly and an athletic-looking man dressed in slacks and a Norwegian knit sweater came out. When he saw her, his mouth curved in a pleasant smile.
“Miss Davis?”
She nodded with a slight questioning lift of her eyebrows. Thick, dark, slightly gray hair framed a strong, masculine face. She guessed him to be somewhere in his mid to late forties. A diamond ring flashed on his hand as he reached out to shake hers.
“I’m Paul Fontaine,” he said, introducing himself. “My law firm handles Mr. Langdon’s legal affairs.”
She nodded, surprised that he was a lawyer. He didn’t seem to fit the stereotype of the legal profession. He was dressed too casually and his manner too effusive.
“The family was just telling me you were here and about Lorrie’s disappearance. I didn’t know. I’ve been busy on the mainland for a few days. I only chatted with the young lady a couple of times. Is there any news?”
“Yes, we found her!”
“Alive?”
“Yes, she’s in the hospital. Thank God, she’s going to be all right.”
“Wonderful. The family will be delighted. I can’t wait to see their faces.” He added, quickly, “They’re in the family room.”
Ashley had no idea where the family room might be in the maze of halls and connected rooms. “I’m not familiar with the house.”
“It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a slight chuckle. “I still get lost sometimes.”
“You stay in the house?” she asked, wondering why she hadn’t seen him the night before.
“No,” he responded, shaking his head. “I use the guest cottage when I fly in from New York for a conference with Clayton and Jonathan.” He lowered his voice. “Frankly, it’s a break from the office routine, and I like to do a little deep-sea fishing when the weather’s good. They loan me one of the cars to get around the island and I was just about to drive down to the wharf. But I’m in no hurry. Come on, I’ll show you the way to the family room.”
Ashley tried to keep her bearings but she became lost as they passed through connecting doors, adjoining rooms an
d down a series of short halls. When they finally descended down some wide steps and entered a high-ceilinged room with large windows, she was surprised to find herself in a pleasant sitting room that opened onto a terrace.
In contrast to the rest of the house, the room was light, and airy, and she could see why the two men and Ellen had gathered there instead of in last night’s formal drawing room.
Fontaine broke the news to them before Ashley had a chance. “They found her. Alive!”
Ellen cried, “Oh, dear Lord!”
Old man Langdon leaned forward in his chair. “What…what?”
Jonathan strode across the room and searched Ashley’s face as if he were afraid to believe Fontaine. “Where?”
Ashley took a deep breath and sat down in the closest chair. As unemotionally as she could, she told them about the rescue. “Lorrie was knocked out from a blow to the head. She’s weak from being out in the wet and cold, but she’s regained consciousness and the doctor says she’s going to recover.”
“That’s wonderful,” Ellen bubbled.
“Did she say who was responsible?” Fontaine asked.
Ashley decided not to mention Sloane. Brad had made it clear there had to be some evidence of the man’s guilt before an arrest could be made.
“Lorrie doesn’t know,” she responded truthfully. “Apparently, she was stuck from behind and never saw her assailant.”
“Maybe she’ll remember more when she gets better,” Ellen offered.
Clayton Langdon made a wheezing sound. His color was a pasty gray as he put his bony hand on his chest and sucked in air.
Ellen was on her feet immediately and rushed over to his chair. “Oh, dear, too much excitement.”
The old man quivered like a strangled bird struggling for air and seemed to hover on the edge of unconsciousness.
“Jonathan, call Dr. Hadley,” Ellen ordered. “Your father’s having another attack.” She summoned Mrs. Mertz and sent her after his medications.
The drama was too much for Ashley. While everyone clustered around Clayton, she followed the housekeeper out of the room.
“Where do I find my sister’s room and her workroom?”
“They’re across the hall from your room.”
“And where is that?” Ashley asked in exasperation.
“Take the stairs,” Mrs. Mertz replied briskly over her shoulder and disappeared down a hall.
“Great,” Ashley muttered as she climbed narrow, steep stairs that ended at a closed door. Only feeble light illuminated the passage.
The door creaked as she opened it, and she gingerly stepped out into an unfamiliar corridor. As she looked up and down, closed doors along the way gave no hint of what might lie behind them. The faint echo of the ocean’s surf reached her ears, and she headed in that direction. When she came to descending stairs that resembled the ones she’d taken that morning, she knew where she was.
Ashley decided she’d better get a handle on the inventory as quickly as possible. When she reached her room, she turned to the door directly opposite hers and gingerly opened it. Peering in, Ashley felt a rush of warmth.
Lorrie’s usual clutter was spread out all over the bedroom. A lovely sight. Ashley smiled. Never again would she chide her sister about her messy habits.
She found two empty suitcases and began to pack up her sister’s belongings. She’d take them to the hospital tomorrow, so they’d be there when Lorrie was ready to leave.
After she’d finished packing, she looked around the room to see if she’d missed anything and noticed a door on the inside wall next to the closet. It opened to an adjoining room. Judging from the casual furniture and curtained windows overlooking the water, she suspected it had been a sitting room at one time with a second door that opened out into another hall. She’d found Lorrie’s workroom. No doubt about it. Vintage apparel and accessories were everywhere. A variety of garments hung on racks, others were sorted in piles and some still lay in opened old trunks. The assortment was mind-boggling.
The collection included beautiful Edwardian gowns of satin, lace and taffeta. In addition to a myriad of day dresses fashioned by famous designers, there were flounced petticoats with ribbons and edging, and shawls that reached the floor with silken fringes.
On a worktable, Lorrie’s meticulous cataloging was evident in her lists of items and a file of accompanying photos she’d taken. Various accessories, such as purses, scarves, silk flowers, and ornate jewelry, seemed to be packed and ready for transport.
Everything in the room possessed a kind of mystique that totally charmed Ashley. She felt strangely drawn to the women who had owned these beautiful things. Sensuous silken fabrics and lingering scents seemed familiar to her, as if in another lifetime she might have worn the satin gowns and ornate necklaces that had circled their necks. The impression was fleeting, but uneasiness remained. As she looked around the room, she sensed an undefined warning.
Satisfied that she could continue where Lorrie had left off, Ashley returned to her bedroom and was surprised to find a housemaid just finishing making up the large canopy bed.
A quick-moving, blondish young woman had straightened up the bathroom and had hung Ashley’s few clothes in the wardrobe. She’d even laid out her makeup and brush set in an orderly manner on the vanity.
Ashley quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I left in a hurry this morning. I don’t want to trouble you every day to make the bed and—”
“No trouble. I’m Clara.” She had a pleasant smile, and Ashley judged her to be in her early thirties.
“I’m glad to meet you, Clara. And thank you.”
“I’ve always liked doing this room. It’s nice to have somebody in it. I used to set it right every day.” Her tone grew pensive. “Don’t know why they’ve left it all shut up for so long. I’m surprised Mrs. Mertz decided to put you here.”
“It’s a spacious room,” Ashley commented and wondered what there was about it that lacked warmth.
“Pamela liked it.”
“Pamela?”
“Mr. Jonathan’s daughter. You should have seen the room then. She had all kinds of bright pictures on the walls and knickknacks everywhere. She had everything any young woman and bride-to-be could want when she had this room.” Her voice faltered. “She died…two years ago now.”
“Yes, I heard about the tragedy.” She remembered Brad had said the young woman had died of a drug overdose.
“I’d been her maid since I came to the house. She was always so full of life. I couldn’t believe it. Only twenty-three years old. Her wedding dress was hanging in the closet. I’d pressed it the day before. I know she never meant to kill herself, even though she and her fiancé had a big fight. He stormed off and Pamela shut herself up in this room…” Clara’s voice petered out.
“What a tragedy,” Ashley murmured gently.
The maid reached out and smoothed a coverlet on the bed. “I found her…right here…in this bed. All cold and lifeless.” Her voice thickened as she turned and stared at Ashley. “I wonder why old lady Mertz put you in her room? She always hated my Pamela.”
Chapter Four
As Ashley stared at the bed, her imagination began to taunt her with haunting impressions. A young girl lying on the bed…drawing her last breath…clutching the pillow with desperate hands—
Stop it! Her nerves were threadbare enough without giving in to morbid fantasies. The housekeeper probably had a pragmatic reason for putting her in this room. After all, it was across the hall from the one Lorrie had occupied and close to the workroom. That made sense—didn’t it? Maybe, but from the moment Mrs. Mertz had opened the door, it was obvious to Ashley that her presence wasn’t welcome.
BRAD WAS on the wharf when the returning fleet of fishing boats pulled into the harbor after a full day’s run. The air was redolent with the smells of fish as tired crews began unloading their catch for the day’s tally.
After asking around, Brad had learned that Sloane had gone out with Old Ma
n Whitkins, who had trouble keeping any kind of a permanent crew because of the pittance he paid. The crusty old codger had to depend on unreliable help like Sloane, who signed on when he needed drinking money.
Whitkins’s old boat was one of the last to come into view. Brad saw Sloane sitting on the deck, his feet propped up on a lobster cage while he smoked a cigarette. He heard Whitkins yelling at him to cast the bowlines as the fishing vessel prepared to dock.
Brad decided to wait until Sloane had finished unloading the boat before he approached him. He didn’t want to cheat Whitkins out of any work he was paying the man to do. As soon as Sloane headed toward the pub with his wages in his hand, Brad fell into step with him.
“Looks like you had a good day’s catch,” Brad commented.
“How in the hell would you know?” Sloane growled. “When’s the last time you put your hands into a smelly lobster trap?”
“I deal in other kinds of smelly business,” Brad answered as he put a detaining hand on Sloane’s arm. “I have some questions that need answering. Either here or at the office. What’s your choice?”
Sloane’s body stiffened and Brad was prepared to block a sudden uppercut and land one of his own, if need be. Sloane seemed to read Brad’s readiness.
“What the hell is this about?”
“Lorrie Davis.”
A slight flush deepened Sloane’s suntanned face. “That city bitch. What about her?”
“I hear you made some unwelcome advances and she brushed you off.”
Sloane cursed. “She had her nose too high in the air to see a good thing. No wonder she ended up missing.”
“Did you have anything to do with that?”
“Hell, no!”
“Where were you the day she went missing?”
“On Whitkins’s boat. I’ve been out every day this week with the old buzzard. He wouldn’t pay me until our run today. You can’t pin this one on me, copper.” Sloane smirked. “I hear you’ve got her sister in tow. How’s that working out for you?”
Brad controlled an urge to spread Sloane’s sneer all over his face and settled for giving him a rough shove backwards. “I’ll be checking out your alibi. Don’t leave the island. I’d hate to have the mainland police detain you in one of their cozy cells while I do some very, very slow paperwork.”