by Julie Hyzy
I slammed the door as firmly as I could, leaning against it as blistering red-hot fury simmered in my chest. “What was that all about?”
Liza pretended not to understand, but her eyes were wild. “What do you mean?”
I pointed. “Nina Buchman. Who is she?”
Liza tried to adopt a “you’re crazy” glare, but failed. “How should I know?”
“You recognized her,” I said, pushing off from the door to follow Liza into the parlor. “And she recognized you. What in the world is going on here?”
Liza shook her head, hands dancing. “You’re imagining things.”
Squaring off opposite her, I folded my arms. “Right here, right now,” I said. “No lies. No omissions. Who is she and what’s going on?”
Liza flopped into my favorite wing chair and leaned her head back against the upholstery. “She works with Eric.”
I didn’t budge. “Doing what?”
“Don’t know exactly. I didn’t even know her name until you said it just now. They’ve been working together for a while.” With a halfhearted laugh she got up to pull the room’s curtains closed. “Kind of shutting the barn door after the horse gets out. Isn’t that what Mom used to say?”
She returned to the chair, giving a quick appraising glance around the room, as though double-checking that there were no other ways to see inside. Pulling her knees up, she wrapped her arms around her legs and stared up at me. “That’s it. And now she knows I’m here. Which means Eric knows I’m here.” She flung one hand upward. “Or will, momentarily.”
“If he’s with this other woman,” I said, making the obvious assumption, “why is he coming after you?”
She leaned forward, her feet hitting the floor with vehemence as though to force the words out faster. “He isn’t with her. Not like that. They’re colleagues.” Twisting her hand in the air again, she slumped back. “Or something.”
I waited.
“He wants me back,” Liza said in a small voice. “That’s why he’s after me. He’ll do anything he can to win me back.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“Fine, don’t believe me. See if I care.”
“Why do you keep so many secrets?” I asked.
Maybe it was my frankness—pure curiosity, stripped of judgmental overtones—that persuaded her to answer in kind. “We all have secrets, don’t we?”
I sank into the sofa opposite her. “I suppose.”
“Mom had lots of them.”
“What do you mean?”
Liza gave me a look that suggested she pitied my ignorance. “You know as well as I do that this house meant more to her than it should.” She waved her index fingers to encompass our surroundings. “Anyone else would have given this place up if her husband needed the money as much as Dad did. Not Mom. Even though we couldn’t afford the upkeep. Why do you think that is?”
My heartbeat quickened. Could Liza know that our mom’s biological father—Bennett’s father—purchased this house for our grandmother back when our mom was a baby?
“She loved Emberstowne,” I said.
That pitying look again. Liza rested her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands together. “The only reason a person keeps a money pit like this house is because they’re tied to it on an emotional level.”
My breath was quick and shallow. I hoped my cheeks weren’t blazing red. Did Liza know? Had our mother shared the family secrets with her? Why not with me?
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Liza asked.
My mouth painfully dry, I could do no more than shrug.
“Look at you. Look at me.” She sat up straight and lifted her hands. “We barely resemble each other. I think Mom had an affair.”
Relief whooshed out of me so fast I got lightheaded. “Is that what you think?”
Mistaking my reaction for shock, Liza laughed. “Why do you insist on wearing rose-colored glasses, Grace? Or are they blinders?” She seemed far more delighted than she should have at the prospect of our mother having had an extramarital dalliance. The idea was preposterous; our parents’ marriage had been as solid as they come. But people like Liza—willing to deceive those she loved—had to believe that everyone around her was capable of duplicity as well.
“I . . . wow.” Pulling my mangled thoughts together, I took a deep breath. “That’s quite a stretch,” I finally said.
“It fits. You have to admit it. Mom had all sorts of papers she hid from us. Like the Treasure Map. I wonder what ever happened to that after I snitched that you found it. Did you ever come across it again?”
I had. Finding it had helped me make the connection between our family and the Marshfields.
The doorbell rang again. Liza jumped up. “I’m not here,” she said, hurrying into the kitchen. “Tell her she was mistaken. Give her a fake name. Or tell her I left the minute you shut the door on her. Tell her I ran off to . . . to . . .”
The rest of her words were lost as I dragged open the door once again, ready to let Nina Buchman know that my next step was calling the police.
“Ms. Wheaton?”
Caught short again, I took a moment to recover. I ran my hand through my hair and unlocked the outer door. “Agent McClowery. Come on in.”
Chapter 22
I led him into the parlor, raising my voice to be heard in the kitchen. “It’s all right, Liza.”
McClowery remained standing until my sister emerged. The expression on her face was at once both relieved and freshly alarmed. Having Liza here provided a roller coaster of emotional thrills for us all.
“Liza, this is Agent McClowery. I told you he would be visiting tonight.”
She sauntered into the room, in full sassy-Liza mode. “But you didn’t tell me how handsome he was.”
Agent McClowery’s impassive expression didn’t change with Liza’s exaggerated attempt to disarm.
“Please have a seat,” I said. “Can I get you a drink?”
His overcoat was unfastened, but he didn’t remove it. “No, thank you.” He pulled out a notebook and pen and remained standing.
“I want to apologize for kicking you off my front porch the other evening.”
He offered a quick smile. “Your local law enforcement explained. Given the circumstances, your reaction was understandable.”
Liza had curled up in my favorite chair again, feet tucked beneath her bottom. She’d adopted the waifish, damsel-in-confusion air she relied on when confronted with real-life issues she didn’t care to handle.
“That said,” McClowery continued, “now that you know my intentions are aboveboard, perhaps you’d be more inclined to share information on Eric Soames’s whereabouts.”
“When I ran you off last time, I thought you were a killer. That’s why I went on and on about how I’d been engaged to Eric—so you’d understand that I had no connection with him anymore.”
“Are you telling me none of that is true?”
I rubbed my forehead. “No, you misunderstand. I was—unfortunately—engaged to the man. Though I don’t have any idea where Eric is right now, you’re welcome to question someone who might.” I extended my arm to indicate Liza, but I doubt he missed her slack-jawed reaction.
Not knowing how much background Rodriguez and Flynn had chosen to provide, I went on to explain. “Remember me mentioning that Eric threw me over for someone else?” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “Here she is. My sister. She’s in a far better position to help you than I am.”
I got the impression that there wasn’t much that took McClowery by surprise. This did. One eyebrow jerked upward. He settled it back almost immediately.
Liza ignored him, fixing her considerable hostility on me as she unfolded her legs and sat up straight. “Grace is right.” She blinked rapidly, as though fighting tears. “He is a monster. That’s why I left him.” Her hate-gaze at me
morphed into a soft and vulnerable stare directed toward the FBI agent. “That’s why I’m here. My big sister took me in, thank goodness. Otherwise I don’t know where I would have gone.”
McClowery waited for her to finish. “Where is Eric Soames now?”
In a move worthy of Scarlett O’Hara, she draped fingers at her throat and said, “Why, how would I know?”
“She believes he’s nearby,” I said. “Don’t you, Liza? Or have you changed your story from fifteen minutes ago?”
“My sister exaggerates,” Liza said.
Before she could continue, I beat her to it. “Moments before you arrived, Agent McClowery, a woman showed up at my front door. In fact, when you rang, I thought she’d returned. She gave me the name Nina Buchman.”
McClowery didn’t express interest in my words but he wrote down everything I said.
“Liza and this Buchman woman recognized each other. Liza said that Eric worked with her,” I continued, giving him the highlights of our conversation, and adding details about Nina Buchman’s initial visit to the house.
During my explanation, McClowery flicked occasional glances at Liza, who kept her arms folded and stared at the floor.
“Why would Eric Soames follow you all the way back to Emberstowne?”
At that she glanced up, bright challenge in her eyes. “I broke his heart. Is that so impossible to believe?”
McClowery didn’t comment. “Did you take anything from him when you left? Could he be after you to retrieve something?”
“Absolutely not,” she said. “I used the last of my money for my train ticket here. I didn’t take a penny that didn’t belong to me.”
“What about valuables other than cash? Anything at all?”
“Valuables? Eric? Are you kidding?” Liza let loose with a full-on snort. “Grace will tell you: I arrived here with all my worldly possessions packed into a purse.” She indicated its size with her hands. “I’m stuck borrowing what I can from her. And as you can see from the way the two of us are built, that ain’t much.”
Liza’s face began to glow as she talked. Her teeth clenched and she fisted both hands. I wondered what had gone on between her and Eric that had inspired this level of animosity.
Unmoved by my sister’s outburst, McClowery kept writing. When he finished, he looked up. “Tell me about Eric Soames’s business dealings.”
“He’s a master at running a business into the ground,” she said. “He has no aptitude, nor enough savvy, to run anything besides his mouth. Oh, he’s good at selling you on an idea, believe me. Career con artists could take lessons from the guy. But when it comes to real work, he’s gone. Won’t lift a finger. All he wants to do is talk.”
McClowery rubbed his nose, waiting, watching. “Let me rephrase. Tell me about people that Eric Soames dealt with. Names of those he interacted with.”
She sat back. “I don’t know any of them.”
“Them?” McClowery repeated. “More than one, then? Who were they?”
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“Names?”
“I just said, I don’t know.”
McClowery worked his jaw. “Descriptions, then. Tell me what they looked like.”
“I never saw any of them.”
McClowery’s eyebrow twitched enough for me to recognize skepticism.
“Come on, Liza,” I said. “You clearly recognized Nina Buchman. Who else is there?”
McClowery’s steady observation of Liza broke long enough for him to turn to me, and for the second time tonight I got the impression I’d surprised him.
“Here’s the truth,” Liza said, appealing to both of us. “I did see that woman once or twice, but that’s it. She’s the only one. Eric told me he had a big deal coming his way, bigger than I could ever imagine.”
McClowery remained silent. I watched, trying to determine if Liza was lying.
“He promised this big windfall,” Liza went on. “He’s been promising it for about a year.”
McClowery wrote that down. “Since when, exactly? What month?”
“I don’t remember,” she said dismissively. “All I know is that he promised this time would be different. He promised to make us wealthy and told me it was a sure thing.”
“Who else was in on it?” McClowery asked.
Liza ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. “Eric worked with a lot of people. He told me it was better if I never met them.” After a quick beat, she added, “I swear that’s the truth.”
“You never met any of Eric Soames’s associates?” McClowery asked. “Not even socially?”
Liza shook her head. “Eric wasn’t much for going out. He was always on his computer.”
“I understand,” McClowery said softly, then gave the smallest grin, showing dimples. “But you strike me as a woman who doesn’t enjoy being left in the dark. Weren’t you curious? Even a little?”
“Of course I was curious,” Liza said, but without the snarl.
Pen poised, McClowery waited.
“Okay, I followed him. But only once.”
Keeping his voice modulated, his gaze sympathetic, McClowery asked, “What did you see?”
“Eric and that woman. They met a man at a coffee shop.”
“What did they talk about?”
Liza shrugged. “I could never get close enough to hear. When the three parted company, I followed Eric and Nina. I was afraid they were . . . that Eric was . . .” She pulled her cheeks in. “I never saw the other guy again.”
“You know his name?”
“No.”
McClowery nodded. “Description?”
“I don’t know. He was sitting, so I don’t know if he was tall or short. He was good-looking.” With a contemptuous glance at me, she added, “Better-looking than Eric, that’s for sure.”
“Age?”
Another shrug. “Older than me. Forty, maybe?”
“Build?”
“Average.”
The questions went on for a few moments longer until it became clear to me, and apparently to McClowery, that Liza’s description wouldn’t do much to narrow the field.
He turned to me. “Detectives Rodriguez and Flynn tell me that you work at Marshfield Manor.”
He hadn’t phrased it as a question, but I felt the need to answer. “That’s correct.”
“Is there anyone at Marshfield who can vouch for your character?”
“Vouch for my character?” I spit out the words. “Apparently whatever Detectives Rodriguez and Flynn told you is casting me in a bad light.”
“Not at all,” he said. “But I prefer to be thorough.”
“Why are you investigating me?” I asked.
He offered the faintest smile. “Again, I’m thorough.”
“What are you investigating, anyway?” I asked.
“Sorry,” he said, not looking sorry at all, “I’m not at liberty to discuss it. And who did you say I could speak with at Marshfield regarding your service there?”
I had half a mind to sic Frances on him, but thought better of it. “Bennett Marshfield,” I said, spelling the first name as the agent wrote it down.
“He’s a member of the family that owns the estate?” McClowery asked.
How an agent from the FBI could be involved in an investigation in Emberstowne and not know who Bennett was boggled my brain. “Yes. He’s the last surviving descendent.” I almost tripped on my words, thinking about the DNA test and how its results might change the official family tree. “He lives on the property. I report directly to him.”
“Thank you.” He nodded to me and then to my sister. “Good night.”
“You’ll have to make an appointment to talk with Bennett,” I said.
McClowery had the blankest eyes I’d ever encountered. “No, I won’t.”<
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Chapter 23
I had a slew of errands to run Saturday and the thought of dragging Liza along as I puttered from the cleaners to the library to the grocery store, with a stop at Amethyst Cellars to visit with Bruce and Scott, made me weary. Not to mention that taking her out in public with a killer on the loose made me worry.
There had been far too many people looking for Eric, far too many odd occurrences, and one too many murders recently for me to leave Liza home by herself, so I texted Tooney and asked if she could hang at his house for a few hours. He replied that it would be fine.
“Sending me off to daycare again, are you?” Liza said as she entered the underground passage. “This must be what it’s like to have a baby, right? Can’t go anywhere without making sure it will be safe.” Patting her purse, she added, “At least I have my trusty cell phone, in case my sitter tries to take improper liberties.”
“He won’t.”
“Bet you can’t wait until I’m out of here.”
I sensed Liza’s visit was far from over. “The important thing is for you to stay safe.”
“That’s my big sis. Always taking care of me,” she said, but with muted sarcasm. She ducked into the tunnel, then turned. “This time, Grace, I swear, I’m going to make everything right.”
“I’m sure you will. Telling that agent about the guy you saw was a good first step. If you remember anything else—”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I’m going to pay you back for all this. And then I won’t ever owe you anything. We’ll be even.”
“I’m not keeping score, Liza.”
Her mouth turned downward so sharply I thought she might cry. “That’s because you’re not the one who always comes up short.”
With that, she spun and hurried away, swallowed seconds later by the darkness. I waited at the entrance until Tooney texted me that she’d arrived. I closed the iron door and headed back upstairs.
Bootsie greeted me at the landing, clambering at my legs until I lifted her up and cuddled her close. She purred deeply. I brought her to my face so we were nose to nose. “It’s only temporary,” I said. “I hope.”