“A car passed me going like a bat from hell,” Earl said. “Bastard didn’t even stop to see if you were all right.” His features compressed with anger.
“Did you have any idea what Emily was up to?” she asked.
He shook his head. “If I had, I would’ve done something about it.”
Lapsley entered the room with Emily. “You’re next, Cousin.” He nodded at Earl.
Cousin—they were related? Kathryn rose from the bed and asked Emily if she’d like to lie down and rest.
“I’m all right, but you look awful.” Emily settled into the chair Earl had vacated. For someone whose life had been threatened and who’d shot a man dead, Emily seemed remarkably calm. Calm and almost content.
Minutes later, Lapsley returned with Earl. “Your turn, Miss Stinson.”
Walking past Earl, Kathryn caught a whiff of aftershave. He wouldn’t have put it on if he hadn’t been out someplace, with a woman probably, even though he’d told her he wasn’t involved with anyone. She felt a sudden, absurd flash of jealousy as she followed Lapsley into the kitchen. She sat across from him at the table where she’d spent long hours watching Emily eat. He raked a hand through his hair again and looked at her with a kindly but bewildered expression.
“Why would someone would want to hurt a woman over ninety and so frail the slightest breeze could knock her down?”
Kathryn told him what she’d told Earl.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Lapsley exclaimed. “Looks like Em was trying to do my job for me.”
“Do you think Gordon killed his wife and Brian Russo?”
Lapsley leaned thoughtfully back in his chair. “He was a suspect—husband usually is. But he had an alibi, and we never could prove anything against him. Now that he’s dead, I don’t know if we’ll ever find out. I’m gonna need that tape, along with your testimony, as evidence of Gordon’s state of mind if this thing comes to trial.”
“Do you think it will?”
“As far as I’m concerned, Em acted in self-defense. Most folks around here will probably agree that Gordon had no business scaring the daylights out of a poor old lady. But he’s got family and friends who may make a stink. Still, I don’t see Em going to jail for shooting a man who was trying to hurt her.” He stood. “That’ll be all for now.”
They returned to the bedroom and Lapsley said to Emily, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to remain here tonight. Is there a neighbor you can stay with?”
“I want to sleep in my own bed,” Emily protested.
“Now, Em, you come along with me,” Earl said. “Mill will put you up for the night.”
“Oh, all right,” she replied crossly. Turning to Lapsley, she asked, “Am I gonna get my gun back? It was Walter’s service revolver.”
“Yes, but I gotta hold onto it awhile. Evidence, you know. And when I do give it back, you better get yourself a license to carry.”
“Don’t let her skip town now,” Lapsley called after Earl and Kathryn as they left with Emily.
“We’ll put her under house arrest,” Earl said.
Emily punched his arm. In the truck, she snuggled against him like an affectionate child.
He eased her gently off when they reached the Farley house. “I’ll see Kathryn to the door then I’ll be right back.”
Kathryn opened the front door and stepped into the lighted hallway. Earl stayed in the shadows. “If you don’t feel right about being here by yourself, I could come back and stay with you. Sleep on the couch, of course.”
She didn’t trust herself alone with him. Not after the state she’d worked herself into earlier that night. “I’ll be okay.”
“’Night then.” He turned to go.
“Earl?”
“Yes, Star?” He moved out of the shadows.
Why did he have to call her that? Didn’t he know how the name made her want to rush into his arms? She took a step backward. “Where were you tonight before you found me?”
“I had a few beers at the Stag.”
“You put on aftershave to go to the Stag?”
“No, I—” He broke off with a guilty expression. “Tell you about it sometime. I need to get Emily to Mill’s. Try and get some sleep.”
He had been with another woman, dammit! But what was the matter with her? She’d been shoved to the ground by Gordon and run off the road by a reckless driver. She’d discovered Gordon shot dead by Emily, and she was upset because a man who wasn’t her lover had been with another woman. Crazy but she couldn’t help herself. The suspicion that Earl had found a new love tormented her.
Too wound up to even think of sleep, she prowled the empty rooms. Amore followed. When he howled to be let out, she went with him.
They stood on the patio, gazing at the pond, its dark surface glittering with reflected stars. The lake must have looked like this on the night Clyde rescued Marguerite from drowning, except the lights had come from Japanese lanterns on the boats instead of the stars.
“Why can’t I stop thinking about him?” she cried aloud. Amore cocked his head at her. He was no help. He’d fallen for Earl himself, letting Earl stroke him into a state of bliss. He scampered off after a leaf.
She couldn’t look at the pond anymore. It reminded her too much of its maker. On the other side of the house, she forced herself to gaze at the stars until their cold remoteness calmed her enough to go back inside. Amore didn’t respond to her repeated calls, so she left him outdoors to pursue whatever the wind and chance brought his way. She turned off the lights and lay on the couch, where Earl would have slept if she’d let him. She imagined the dark ceiling overhead lit with late autumn constellations, whose names she didn’t know but would one day learn.
Eventually she fell asleep. In her dreams, she returned to the pond, floating on her back, her lips parted to catch the falling raindrops, heedless of the distant thunder.
Chapter 44
The file drawer was the first thing Kathryn saw when she awoke the next morning. In her wound-up state last night, she’d barely noticed it. The drawer lay on the coffee table, gray, hard-edged, inert. Gordon had meant to take it with him. Now he never would. She felt a strong urge to cover it with a cloth, just as Gordon’s body had been shrouded. But she was curious about its contents. Could it contain the draft of the will, or other incriminating evidence? The drawer appeared to be filled with orange slide boxes, but something could be buried underneath.
She scooped out the boxes and piled them on the floor. The bottom was empty. Still, she ran her hand over it, searching for a secret compartment. There was none. She glanced at the slide boxes. Some were labeled, others not. She picked up a box labeled “Door knockers, NYC.” Door knockers? She held up several slides to the light and saw they were indeed door knockers. Perhaps, after all, Gordon had wanted them for an exhibit of his photographs. Then, Emily’s suspicions about him were unfounded. The possibility disturbed her. Because if the killer was someone other than Gordon or Brian Russo, then—she didn’t want to even think about who it might be.
The other labeled boxes contained door knocker slides as well, but she found one marked, “St. Barts.” The first slide showed a smiling Diana and Gordon with their arms around each other on a tropical beach. The image of the apparently happy couple went against Emily’s version of their marriage. Kathryn knew people often put on smiley faces for the camera. Even so, she wished Diana had looked just a little pensive. She’d started to examine another slide when she heard a loud knocking at the front door.
“Sorry to bother you,” Hank Lapsley said. “Probably should’ve called first, but figured I’d stop by and get that tape on the way to church.”
Kathryn was about to remove the tape from the player, but Lapsley stopped her. “Might as well have a listen now.” She played him the part that had enraged Gordon. He was silent a moment, then he said, “Don�
��t see why this made him so mad, unless he had a guilty conscience.” He ejected the tape and deposited it in a plastic baggie.
“Do you think he did have a guilty conscience?”
Lapsley loosened the tie that went with his brown, church-going suit. “As I said last night, we never could prove anything against Gordon. And now that he’s dead, well . . . ” He shook his head.
“Were you on duty the night it happened?”
“Sort of. I mean, I was at the Stag when the call came.”
“Why were you at the Stag?”
Lapsley shifted uncomfortably. “The chief of police job is supposed to be part-time, but I get calls at all hours wherever I am. And that night I was at the Stag.”
“With Earl and his brothers?”
“They were there. How’d we get started on this?” Lapsley’s face wore the look of someone who’s taken a wrong turn and realizes too late it’s brought him to a place he never intended to go.
Before she could remind him, the phone rang. “Excuse me.” She hurried into the kitchen.
“Just called to see how you’re doing,” Earl said.
The sound of his voice gave her a fluttery feeling. “I’m okay. Hank Lapsley’s here.”
“Hank—how come?”
“He wanted to get the tape with the part that made Gordon so mad.”
“I won’t keep you then. Something I wanted to ask, though.”
“Yes?” The fluttering grew.
“What’re you planning to do about your car?”
“My car?” She drew a momentary blank then remembered her car was leaning against a tree by the roadside. “Have it towed, I guess.”
“My brother Wayne could do that for you. Repair work, too, if it needs it.”
“That’s very kind of him but—”
“Don’t worry, it’s not gonna cost you an arm and a leg like it would in the city.”
Earl had gone to a lot of trouble on her behalf. Was more than neighborliness involved?
Back in the living room, Lapsley peered at the contents of the file drawer. “This yours?”
“Gordon’s. He brought it down from the attic last night. He went up there every time he came to the house. Emily thought he was looking for Diana’s second will. She said Diana was planning to divorce Gordon and had another will drawn up so he’d get less of her estate if something happened to her beforehand.”
“Hmm. I don’t remember anything about a second will. If there was one, seems like somebody would’ve brought it up and challenged the first will.”
“It’s possible there isn’t one. Emily herself admitted that Diana’s lawyer didn’t know anything about it. But she still believed another will existed, and that Diana made it herself and hid it somewhere.”
Lapsley shook his head. “If there ever was a second will, it’s not going to make much difference now. Better get a move on, or I’ll miss the whole sermon.” Tape in hand, he started for the door.
Kathryn followed. “What happens next?”
“There’ll be an inquiry, of course. And his family is flying in. They’ll probably want to come to the house. I’ll keep you posted.”
After Lapsley had gone, Kathryn considered what to do. He hadn’t seemed interested in pursuing the matter of the second will. But she was. Before Gordon’s family arrived and had his belongings removed, she’d make a final search.
She had breakfast or rather lunch, as it was nearly noon. Then she headed to the attic, where she started with the accumulated papers, which included old magazines and tax returns. She fanned the pages of the magazines to be sure no loose papers were hidden inside and checked the bottoms of the various boxes. She spent more time on the tax returns. A scrutiny of several years’ worth corroborated what she’d been told: the couple had lived on Diana’s money.
She turned to the more tedious task of checking the file drawers filled with slide boxes. There were more shots of door knockers. Gordon seemed obsessed with them. He had also meticulously recorded every stage of the house’s construction from the clearing of the land to the finish carpentry of the interior. She found herself lingering over the shots of Earl and his bulldozer; the others she merely glanced at.
A flash of color in another box caught her eye. She pulled out a large, rectangular, unopened package. The card, dated the year Diana died, read: “To Diana, Merry Christmas, Love, Gordon.” The realization she was holding a gift the dead woman had never received sent chills down Kathryn’s spine. Should she open it? None of your business, she told herself. On the other hand, she’d already spent several hours poking into Gordon and Diana’s private affairs, so why not poke more? What would a man like Gordon give his wife for Christmas? The package felt like a framed picture: an enlarged photograph of a door knocker, or a studio portrait of Gordon? Either would be in keeping with his egotistical nature.
Inside was a collage of pictures Gordon had taken of the pond. They captured its many moods by showing it at different times of day, in different seasons, and in different years. Often stunning, the photographs reminded her of Claude Monet’s lily pad series. She was also struck by the care Gordon had taken in selecting and arranging the photographs. This didn’t seem like the work of a man who was planning to kill his wife. The uneasiness she’d felt returned in full force. Emily had given her one view of Diana and Gordon’s marriage, but these photographs told a different story.
There were also two stories about what had happened between Clyde, Marguerite, and Jared Cutter. Would she ever know the truth in either case? Once, she thought she heard the phone ringing in the distance. But she didn’t feel like hurrying from the attic to answer. Whoever it was could always leave a message.
A while later she became aware of someone calling her name. With the trapdoor closed, the sound was muffled. Opening the trapdoor, she called out, “Who is it?”
Footsteps thudded up the stairs. Earl appeared in the hallway.
Chapter 45
“What’re you doing up here?” Earl joined her in the attic.
“Just looking at some stuff.”
“How come?”
Before she could answer, his gaze fell on the collage. He picked it up and glared at the photographs like a bull seeing red. Then he saw the wrapping paper with the attached card. He put down the collage while he read the card. His scowl deepening, he crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it across the room. He reached for the collage.
“Don’t,” she said, afraid he was about to wreck it. “They’re beautiful pictures of something you made.”
“But Gordon . . .” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Is dead,” she said softly.
“Why’re you going through their things?”
“I was hoping to find a copy of a second will Emily told me Diana had drawn up.”
“A second will?” He seemed surprised.
“You didn’t know about it?”
“No— yes, come to think of it, Diana did mention something about another will. But I don’t believe she ever got around to doing anything about it.”
“So there probably isn’t one?”
“That’s right.” Earl stared into space, his expression grim and abstracted.
Kathryn put the collage back in its wrapping. “Did you telephone a while ago?”
Earl blinked and looked at her. “Yes. I wanted to let you know your car’s ready. Give you a ride to the shop if you like.”
In the truck, he appeared more relaxed. Kathryn would have relaxed herself if she hadn’t become aware of his aftershave. Surely, he hadn’t put it on just to give her a lift to the garage. He must have plans for later. With the other woman? Her suspicions of the night before rushed back.
Wayne was waiting at the shop, and again Kathryn was struck by the resemblance between the two brothers. They might have been twins except that W
ayne was shorter and heavier and not as good-looking. “Thanks for taking the time on a Sunday to fix my car,” she said.
Wayne smiled and handed her the keys. “Wasn’t much to do, just a loose hose. The dents will have to be fixed later, but for now you can drive it.”
“Don’t thank him till you’ve seen what kind of a job he did,” Earl teased.
“Get on with you!” Wayne laughed.
“What do I owe you?” Kathryn asked.
“Nothing now. I won’t bill you until I’ve fixed the dents.”
“Seriously now,” Earl said, “I better ride down the hill with you to make sure your car’s running properly.” Earl winked at Wayne as he slid into the passenger seat. Kathryn’s heart leaped. Perhaps, after all, the cologne was for her.
They hadn’t gone far when Earl said, “You know you’ve got a plant down here.” He pointed at the pot with the African violet.
“Oh, that. It’s been riding around with me for days. I keep meaning to do something about it, but I keep forgetting.”
“Looks dead, but with some water, it might come back.” He cradled the pot between his legs, its pungent, earthy smell mingling with the scent of his cologne.
Waiting at the house was something else she’d neglected. Amore sat patiently by the front door.
“Thought you didn’t let your cat out.” Earl left the car, carrying the plant.
“I don’t usually. But last night I was in such a state. When he made a fuss, I opened the door and he vanished.” No need to tell him she’d gone out with Amore, too. Gone out and nearly driven herself crazy with thoughts about him. “I can’t believe he’s been out all night and most of the day.”
“He doesn’t look too much the worse for wear.” Earl reached down and scratched Amore’s ears. “Left you a present, too.” He pointed at a dead mouse on the ground next to the cat. The mouse’s front paws were curled as if begging for mercy. Kathryn looked away while Earl disposed of it in the bushes.
“Would you . . . um . . . like to come in for a beer?” she asked.
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