by Ink, India
“Grandma may be eighty-three, but you wait and see, she’ll outlive us all.” I shook my head. My mother had been born thirteen years after Auntie, but Grandma Dakota never blinked an eye. She took it in stride and charged ahead. Grandpa William was just along for the ride—he’d been a lawyer, but even though he was terribly successful, he hadn’t let it go to his head. Auntie told me that if he’d had his way, they would have taken me in, but Grandma was so put out about my mother dying overseas that Gramps quietly stepped aside and gave Aunt Florence his blessing.
“Well, I’m certainly not traveling to Virginia for the holidays. I love Mother, but I have no desire to sit there and have her try to mold me over in her image. Not at my age,” Auntie said.
I had a frightening flash of Grandma forcing Auntie into a Chanel pantsuit and Mrs. Cleaver pearls. Nope, not a good scenario nor one likely to happen. Snickering, I picked up the phone.
“I’d better call Amy. She should be up by now.”
Sure enough, she was, and when I told her what I was thinking, she was only too happy to invite me over. I gathered my purse and keys and shrugged into a warm suede jacket. As I stepped out onto the porch, the frosty air pierced my lungs like a row of needle-sharp daggers. The steps were iced over, and I cautiously navigated my way down them only to meet Trevor, who was climbing out of his truck, sandbag in hand.
“I thought I’d come in early,” he said, “and deice Miss Florence’s steps. I figured things would be pretty frozen over here.”
I gave him a quick hug. “Thanks, Trev. You’re worth your weight in gold. What does Auntie have on the list for you today?”
He snorted. “Apparently, this year we’re lighting up the holly grove. She wants everything decked out in twinkles, so I’m off to A Christmas Carol today for more lights and other assorted goodies.”
The holly grove was Auntie’s name for a clearing around a giant holly tree on the outskirts of our land. Trev and Sarah had worked their butts off through September to clear out the brambles, plant wildflowers, and build a rock garden. The ring of cedars surrounding the lea gave the whole area a grovelike feel, and Auntie was intent on creating a magical place that could be used for Venus Envy-sponsored events during the summer.
“Well, that’ll be pretty,” I said. “How are the roads, by the way? Do I need snow tires or anything like that?”
Trev glanced back at his truck. “Wouldn’t hurt. This winter’s supposed to be a lot wetter and colder than usual, which means we could see several snowstorms. And watch out for black ice—the roads are pretty slick this morning. Don’t take Randall Avenue. A tree blew down across the road and took the power lines with it. Electricity is out for blocks around, and it’s a real mess.”
I waved and got in my car. Trevor put down his sandbags and hurried over, motioning for me to stay inside while he deiced the windshield. As I was warming the engine, my phone rang, and I flipped it open. Killian! I quickly punched the Talk button and answered.
“Persia, I wanted to catch you before I get on the plane. I’m at the airport, and my flight’s been delayed for an hour. Did I call at a bad time?”
I smiled softly. “There’s never a bad time for you to call. Are you ready for your meeting?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said. “I’ve got all the graphs, charts, spreadsheets, and marketing analyses that you could ever hope to see. Once we finalize the deal, then I’ll be able to start hunting for rental space. Possibly as early as December. I’m thinking of buying Bebe’s old building.” He gave a nasty snicker, and I cracked up. “Just think, Bebe Wilcox can rot in that jail cell of hers knowing that my new company took over her space.”
“Just make sure you get Bran Stanton to cleanse the place for you.” I stopped suddenly. Considering that Bran and I’d had a lovely fling for a few months, I wasn’t sure that was the best idea after all. But Killian just grunted.
“Hell, I’d do it—extra insurance is always welcome. But didn’t his sister say he’s off on some reality show?”
“Come to think of it, yeah. Castaway: Amazon Adventure. And it wouldn’t surprise me to see him win, either. Of course, if he wins a million dollars, he’s going to be insufferable. He was talking about going to Everest earlier this year.” As much as I loved being with Killian, I would have given just about anything to go on an expedition up Everest. It would be brutal, but I was up to the training.
“And you want to go,” Killian said, laughing. “Don’t deny it. Well, if you do, I won’t stand in your way, but Stanton better not be your bed warmer if you go with him. Have you found out anything about Lisa yet?”
“No,” I said. “But I’m warming up the car as we speak to go check on a lead. We’re making headway.”
“Okay, babe. I’ll let you go, then. But Persia, be careful. And remember—you’re all mine.” Killian’s voice slid over me like liquid fire.
“Trust me, I won’t forget,” I said. “Hurry back. And be safe. And good luck to you.” I hung up and pulled out of the driveway. Killian and I bantered the words “Love you” around like a badminton birdie, but we hadn’t landed them seriously yet. I didn’t know if we would—or when we would—but the feeling was there. And that was enough.
Amy was waiting for me, her expression hopeful. My breath puffed out in little clouds of white as I hurried to the door and pulled off my gloves and jacket. Amy pressed a cup of hot chocolate in my hands. “I can’t believe the snow—and the weatherman says we might have more this afternoon.”
“Yeah, and for once it’s not melting off right away.” I sipped at the chocolate, grateful for the warmth. “So, what do you think? Any idea where Lisa might have hidden her diary?”
With a shrug, Amy led me back to Lisa’s room. “Probably in here. Let’s see what we can find. Feel free to look through everything,” she said, starting at the desk. While she searched among Lisa’s papers, I began hunting through Lisa’s dresser, looking for anything that might be a journal. The drawers revealed an interesting array of lingerie, condoms, a few personal toys that I discreetly avoided mentioning, and a baggie that contained a few grams of marijuana. I handed it to Amy.
“You might want to get rid of this. I don’t have any problem with it, but if the police ever come in to check the room, you don’t want things getting ugly.”
Amy sighed. “Yeah. Lisa’s a party girl, but she’s usually careful. I’ll just dispose of this and be right back.” She headed into the bathroom, and I turned my attention to Lisa’s bed. I stripped the sheets and comforter and began searching between the mattress and box spring. A moment later, I hit pay dirt. At the foot of the bed I found a thin volume. It was lovely—as beautiful as my own journals—and the cover was a soft navy velvet. It was tied shut with a pale blue ribbon, and I sat down on the bed, holding the book in my lap. Amy joined me.
“Have you ever seen this before?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen her write in another journal, but this is different. Maybe she keeps two? Some people do, one for very private thoughts.”
I silently untied the bow and set the ribbon aside. I could tell that Lisa had used this journal with care. I wagered a guess that we wouldn’t find any haphazard notes or scribbled-out pages.
As I flipped through the diary, I saw that I was right. Lisa had printed everything in neat block lettering. Tidy entries that looked like they’d taken some thought. No doubt her venting was left for the other journal. This book contained memories and poems and important notes.
“Why don’t you keep searching for her other journal? We might need both,” I said as I skimmed entries. Better I read these than Amy. They were sisters. Anything in here would roll off my back, but if there was something about Amy, it might hurt her feelings.
Toward the end, I came across an entry that mentioned Candy. Dated on the Saturday of the Gala, it was neatly printed like the others, but the pen pressure had been heavy, and I could almost feel the anger seething from the pages
.
Our father’s estate has been demolished by Candy Harrison. She sucked him dry and left us holding the empty purse strings. She’s a manipulator, and though I can’t prove she did it, I know she’s got our missing money. And now we’re going to get it back. All that snooping around and following her paid off. Yesterday she made an appointment and begged me not to say a word about her and Lloyd, but it’s too late.
I’m meeting them this afternoon down on Lookout Pier in the parking lot. And if they don’t show, they know I’ll just take my pictures to Annabel. If Candy won’t pay us back what she stole, then I’ll do the next best thing—see her reputation destroyed. It’s the least she deserves.
Two photographs were carefully taped by their corners to the next page. They were Polaroids, and they showed Lloyd and Candy doing the horizontal bump and grind. Just like the one I’d found in Candy’s apartment.
I jumped up and called to Amy, who was sorting through the closet. “I found what we need to have Kyle search Candy’s apartment! Look at this.”
As Amy read the entry and looked at the pictures, her eyes grew wide, and she let out a little gasp. “Oh no! Candy really took our money? Lisa hinted at it, but I thought she was being paranoid.”
I frowned. “I don’t know if we can ever prove that Candy stole the money, but yes, her bankbook did show a lot of large deposits during the time she was caring for your father. Call Kyle and ask him to come over, would you?”
While we waited for him to get there, we sat at the kitchen table, hot chocolate in hand. I wandered over to the window, gazing out at the tidy lawn. Candy and Lloyd were responsible for Lisa’s disappearance. I knew it. But what if they’d already killed her to keep her quiet? Could they go so far? Would they?
A nagging suspicion pounded at the corners of my thoughts, one I didn’t want to explore. What if Candy and Lloyd had dragged her out to Lookout Pier and pushed her off the edge? She could be under the water there. Just because one body had surfaced didn’t mean that Lisa wasn’t down there, too. Maybe Kyle was right, but in a way he never expected to be.
I suddenly wondered where Lloyd had been during the afternoon of the Gala. Whatever had happened to Lisa took place during the afternoon, because Lloyd was at the dance with Annabel, and Lisa was missing by then.
All of these thoughts racing through my head, I turned back to the table, only to find Amy silently weeping as she stared at a picture of her sister. She looked up at me, her composure crumbling before my eyes. I hurried over to her, and she rested her head against my side as I slid my arm around her shoulder.
She didn’t speak, and I didn’t ask her to. There was nothing to say. We both knew that there was a chance that Lisa had met with a violent end. It was one thing to think she might be in an accident somewhere; quite another to realize she was blackmailing a potential embezzler who wouldn’t want the truth to come out.
The doorbell rang, and Amy hastily dabbed at her eyes. “I’ll get it,” I said, leaving her to compose herself. Kyle was standing there, looking grim. “Weather’s socking in. It’s going to be a long night and probably a lot of accidents. What have you got?”
I nodded him into the kitchen, where we showed him the diary and pictures. “Now can you search Candy’s apartment? Now can you talk to Lloyd?”
“Yep,” he said, closing the diary and slipping it into a bag. “We’ll need this, but we should be able to get a search warrant. Once I find the other photo in Candy’s apartment, we can arrest her and Lloyd on suspicion of playing a part in Lisa’s disappearance. That alone might scare them into confessing. If Lisa’s alive, we can play up the fact that they won’t get nearly as bad a sentence if they tell us where she is.”
We headed out, Kyle in his prowl car, Amy riding with me. Kyle stopped at the courthouse and within minutes returned, waving a search warrant. “I called ahead,” he said, leaning against my door. “Let’s go over to Candy’s. I assume you want to come along?”
I nodded. “We won’t interfere, though. I promise.”
“Uh-huh. Right. I know what your promises are worth. Just don’t do anything without my permission so we don’t botch up the admissibility of any evidence we recover.” He jogged back to his car, and we followed him over to Candy’s apartment building.
The Villa del Mar looked as run-down as ever. Kyle took the lead, and we headed up the stairs, stopping at Candy’s door. He knocked three times, and when nobody answered, he sent me to find the superintendent, who brought the master key. The super let us in, standing beside the door rubbing her arms against the cold as we entered the apartment.
The place looked just about the same as it had when I’d been there before. I pointed to the handbag, and Kyle bagged it. He sifted through her things, turning her desk inside out, checking every drawer. On her dresser, he found her bankbook and bagged that for evidence, too. And then, the picture.
As he gingerly picked it up, gloves on, he said, “This is our link. This gives me probable cause to believe that Candy played a part in Lisa’s disappearance.” He looked through a few more things, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Returning to the super, he asked, “Do you know when Miss Harrison will be home?”
The super shook her head. “Nah, that girl is a wild one. I don’t like her much, but she pays her rent on time and doesn’t play her music too loud. She done something wrong?”
“Maybe. If she returns, please call the station and tell us where and when you saw her. Someone’s life may depend on it.” Kyle handed her a card with the station’s number on it, and we took off back down the stairs.
“What next?” I asked.
“I’ll get one of the boys over here to keep a watch in case she returns, and put out an APB on her. Hold on,” he said, running back up to exchange notes with the super again. When he returned, he held up a piece of paper. “Her license plate and make and model of car. Makes it easier for the APB to work,” he added, a short grin tweaking the corner of his lips.
“Where do we go from here?” Amy asked, her eyes flickering. I could hear the faint glimmer of hope in her voice, but it waged war with fear, and I knew she was fighting a battle against expecting too much.
Kyle glanced down at her protectively. I could tell he wanted to gather her in his arms, to whisper that it would be okay. He settled for lifting her chin and giving her a soft smile. “We go to Annabel’s and have a little chat with Lloyd. Candy might be there, too, for all we know.”
The streets were getting slicker. Not only had the snow remained on the roads, except along the main thoroughfares, but the temperature was still below freezing, and now tiny flakes began to skitter through the air, whirling as the breeze whipped them into a frenzied dance. We avoided the downtown area where shoppers would be clogging the streets, but in doing so, found ourselves on a back road that had patches of black ice and frozen slush.
Cautiously navigating around several downed tree limbs, I pulled into Annabel’s driveway behind Kyle and let out a long sigh. While I knew how to drive on snow, it had been awhile. I turned to Amy. “Here we are. Keep your spirits up, hon. Lloyd doesn’t strike me as a killer. And I doubt if Candy has the brains for it.”
She gave me a weak smile and followed me up the path as we joined Kyle at the door. He rang the bell, and to my surprise, Annabel answered. She frowned at his uniform, then saw me and, looking confused, said, “Is something wrong? Did something happen to Lloyd?”
Kyle winced. “Is your husband home, ma’am? I need to talk to him.”
Annabel shook her head. “No, he went out to our beach house on the other side of the island. He’s going to make sure it’s battened up tight because of the storm. He won’t be home until evening. What is it? Persia, tell me—I know something’s wrong.”
By the edge in her voice I realized that she did, indeed, know something was up. She probably suspected Lloyd was doing something on the sly because of his overdrawn account. I would, if I were in her shoes.
I looked at Kyle, who g
ave me a nod. “Annabel, may we talk to you for a moment?” She let us in and led us to the living room, where we sat on the edge of the sofa. She lowered herself into an armchair.
“Now, what’s this all about? I haven’t reached my age without learning a few things, and believe me, it’s never a good sign when a police officer shows up at the door asking to talk to your husband. What’s going on?” She nervously twisted a handkerchief in her hands.
I wondered just how the shock might affect her and hesitantly said, “This is going to come as a bit of a surprise, Annabel, but we suspect that your husband may know something about Lisa Tremont’s disappearance.”
Annabel closed her eyes for a moment and then slowly opened them. “Tell me everything,” she said. And we did.
While Kyle and Amy were laying out the facts, I slipped out to the foyer and called Auntie. “Can you come over to Annabel’s? I know you want to be at the shop, but she needs you.” Quickly, I laid out what had happened, and Auntie said she’d be right over.