by Irene Brand
Ronald’s head came up as if he had been stung, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He still didn’t give up easily, but wrangled with them for an hour over minor issues. At last they compromised. Trudy’s body would be in the funeral home for viewing, but the family would have a private viewing. She would be buried in the handcrafted casket in the mausoleum. The funeral would be public but held at Unity Christian Church with Reverend Brown in charge. The family wouldn’t be required to wear black to the funeral and the notice in the paper would ask that in lieu of flowers, memorials would be sent to Unity Christian Church for the youth program.
“When are the rest of the girls coming home?” Ronald asked.
“Juliet’s conference ends tonight and she’ll be home tomorrow. Bianca will come the day before the funeral. Delia will book her flight as soon as she knows when the funeral will be, but she plans to return to Hawaii immediately after the memorial service. She’s been away from her business too much since the first of the year.”
“We will set the funeral for a week from today. I’ll contact the funeral home,” Ronald said.
As they left the room, Rissa exchanged skeptical glances with her twin. Their father had capitulated too easily. Did that mean they could still expect trouble from him? Or was he responsible for Trudy’s death and conceding because he worried that an overt display of grief would cast suspicion on him?
Drew believed that Rissa reciprocated his feelings and was somehow put off by his reticence.
That night Ronald went out, presumably to spend the evening with Alannah Stafford. Drew wondered if Rissa might come downstairs after her father left.
Since he didn’t want to put Rissa in a compromising situation, and realizing that he wouldn’t be privy to what was happening in the house if he was inside the living room, he sat on the bench in the hallway.
As soon as Rissa heard her father drive away, she left Portia in their room talking on the phone with Mick. She was eager to talk to Drew about the confrontation with their father.
“You’ve finished your dinner already?” she asked Drew when she approached him in the hallway.
“After our big lunch, I’m going to settle for a midnight snack.”
“Is it all right if I keep you company? Or, I’ll be honest, you’d be keeping me company. Portia is talking to Mick, and Aunt Winnie and Miranda are watching television in the sitting room while waiting to get a call through to our sister Delia in Hawaii.”
“I’ll bring a chair from the living room,” he said. “Except for this bench, none of the other furniture looks too comfortable, and I need to sit here to monitor who comes and goes.”
“Most of this furniture is from another century and it isn’t comfortable. Not much changes at Blanchard Manor, except the people.”
He picked up a platform rocker and carried it to a place near the bench.
“When is the funeral scheduled?”
“A week from today. The mausoleum won’t be ready until then. Aunt Winnie, my sisters and I had a royal battle with Father this afternoon about the funeral. He was determined to make a big show and we didn’t want it. I was ready to go back to the city if he persisted in his plans, but Miranda said I wouldn’t be allowed to leave Stoneley because I’m the only witness to my mother’s murder.”
“Mick and I would consider making an exception in your case and perhaps allow you to go home while we continue the investigation. To be honest, I’m uneasy about having you here. That note you received has me wondering if the killer thought you could identify him. Or her,” he amended. “And those nightmares you’ve been having could have been triggered by someone who wants you to think you’re losing your mind.”
“But how could anyone do that?”
“I don’t know.” He moved his shoulders in a shrug of defeat. “They could have your bedroom bugged. Or if someone in this house is the murderer, that person might have learned the kind of antidepressants you’re taking and have slipped you something else to counteract your medication. And you haven’t told anyone that you’re taking an antidepressant?”
“No,” Rissa said, and stopped suddenly, remembering. “I did tell Grandfather, but only the two of us were in his apartment, and he didn’t pay any attention to me at all—he was off in a little world of his own.”
“He might have heard you, but in his condition, he couldn’t be harassing you. Didn’t you say a bottle of your pills had disappeared?”
“They’re gone, but I’ve probably just misplaced them. No one except you knows about my depression, and none of the family would have any idea what would cause me to hallucinate.”
“They would if they saw what your prescription is. I’m trying to look at every angle of this situation, and we can’t overlook the fact that if someone other than a resident of Blanchard Manor killed your mother, they had to get in the house some way. Do all of the servants have a code to get through the gate and into the house?”
“The ones who live here in the house would have. I’m not sure anyone else would know it. But I haven’t had any nightmares for a couple of nights now.”
“I only hope that continues. But be careful. It might be a good idea to lock your bedroom door at night.”
In an attempt to turn the conversation to a lighter subject, Rissa said, “You know so much about my family, and I hardly know anything about yours….”
Rissa was sorry immediately that she had asked and wished that she could recall the words.
Drew, on the other hand, was pleased that she had led into the subject he knew had to be addressed.
“As I mentioned the other night, my dad was an abusive man, not only to my mother, but to me. He’d beat up on me for no apparent reason. I couldn’t do much about it until I was a teenager. By that time I was taller than he was and heavier. When I turned fifteen, I’d had all I intended to take, and when he hit my mother, I attacked him. He was drinking, and I suppose I took an unfair advantage of him, but I gave him a bad beating. When I finished, I told my mother she could either kick him out or I was leaving for good. That goaded her into divorcing him and he disappeared from our lives.”
“I shouldn’t have asked. This is obviously very painful for you.”
“No, I’ve wanted to tell you more about what happened with my father. You need to understand how different we are. You grew up in this—” he waved a hand indicating the opulence of Blanchard Manor “—and I lived in a rented house, not as good as the outbuildings on this property. You’re heir to a lot of wealth, and I don’t own anything except a pickup truck. Our worlds are miles part.”
“Do you think that makes any difference to me?” she whispered.
Their glances locked and fierce emotion pierced Rissa’s heart. Drew must have experienced the same thing, for he reached his hand toward her, but drew it back immediately. He stood and walked to the rear of the hallway, checking the rooms as if nothing had happened. But Rissa knew better. They were intimately aware of each other and she wondered what might happen if she made more than an overture of friendliness to Drew.
After the tumultuous romantic affairs of her father, Rissa had steered clear of relationships during her teen years and in college. After going to New York, her only passion was to succeed as a playwright. Now she wondered if that was enough. Knowing that it wasn’t, she went back to her room before Drew finished checking the manor. Every night he was sure that all the doors were locked and that the security system was activated. Once again she asked herself how anyone could have possibly slipped into the house to kill Trudy.
Rissa’s mind was troubled when she tried to sleep.
At breakfast the next morning, Winnie said, “Juliet called last night and she’ll arrive at the Portland airport at two o’clock today. I’m going to meet her, but the rest of you are welcome to go, too. Poor child—she’s going to need all the love we can give her.”
“But it should be some comfort for her to know that she wasn’t responsible for her mother’s death as she’
s always thought.”
Rissa had never been able to understand Juliet’s reasoning on that issue. Just because her mother’s mental condition stemmed from postpartum syndrome, it wasn’t Juliet’s fault. She hadn’t asked to be born.
“I’ll go with you, Auntie. Do you want to go, twin?” Portia asked.
“No, I’ll stay here.”
Rissa wanted to stay behind hoping to have a few hours alone with Drew. Only the household staff and Miranda would be left in the house. Since Trudy’s murder, Miranda avoided the front part of the house as much as possible. Except when she came down the back stairs to the dining room, she stayed on the second floor.
By the time Winnie and Portia were ready to leave, a quick shower had blown in from the ocean and the pavement was still wet. Rissa stepped out on the porch to say goodbye as the limousine was driven away by the chauffeur. When she returned to the foyer and closed the door, Drew was coming down the steps with a duffel bag.
“Oh, you’re leaving, too?” Rissa asked, trying to stifle the disappointment in her voice.
“Just for a few hours,” he answered. “Mick is sending an officer to fill in for me, and I’m going home to check on things. Who else is gone?”
“Aunt Winnie and Portia went to the airport to meet Juliet. She’s flying in from Florida.”
Wondering if he had lost his senses, Drew said, “Do you want to come with me? I’ve seen your home—you might as well see mine.”
“Will the officer let me leave the property without a lot of explanations?”
“They won’t ask any questions if you’re with me. I’ll bring you home when you’re ready.”
“It will probably be two or three hours before the others are back, so I will go with you. It’s such a pretty day and I don’t want to be penned up inside. Give me a minute to get a jacket and tell someone where I’m going.”
Pleasure lent speed to her feet as she all but danced up the steps. When she reached the second floor, Sonya was plodding down the hall on her daily inspection of the house, insuring that the maids had done their work satisfactorily.
“Sonya, I’m going out for a couple of hours with Detective Lancaster. If Aunt Winnie gets back before I do, please tell her that I’ll be back before too long.”
“Will do,” Sonya said. “You’re looking peaked. You need to get out of this house. Have fun.”
Rissa searched her closet and pulled the brown leather jacket she had bought in a classy boutique on Fifth Avenue over her shoulders. She had left the jacket behind the last time she’d been home. She kicked off her chic stacked-heel sandals and slid her feet into a pair of flats.
Remembering what Sonya had said about looking peaked, she scanned her face, not really liking what she saw. Rissa had often wished she could change her dark features for Juliet’s long blond hair and fair complexion. Shrugging off a phenomenon that she knew could never happen she ran down the steps, excited that she and Drew could have a short time outside the gloomy atmosphere of the manor.
His replacement had arrived, and Drew waited for her in the foyer. She felt giddy, as if she were a teenager going on her first date. He held the door open for her and she sensed that he was as thrilled about their outing as she was.
After they left the Blanchard property, Drew followed the road along the coastline—one of Rissa’s favorite drives—which bypassed the town of Stoneley. She lowered the window a notch and listened to the splash of the surf against the rocky coast. Huge spruce trees glistened with some remaining drizzle as shafts of sunshine streamed through the clouds. The sky, which had been drab and gray when they’d left the house, had broken into patches of dazzling white.
This was the first time they had been completely alone and Rissa didn’t know what to say. Drew was equally silent.
She hesitated to break the mood, which she considered peaceful, but she finally said, “It’s good to be away for a little while and not feel like a cloud is hanging over my head ready to fall on me. Thanks for bringing me along.”
“I enjoy being with you, in case you haven’t noticed,” he commented wryly.
She glanced his way, and he gave her a smile that set her pulse racing. She immediately looked away toward the ocean. “Maybe I have noticed, because I like being with you, too.”
“We live in two different worlds, Rissa.”
“We both live in Maine,” she answered teasingly.
“Rich and poor don’t mix. They never have—never will.”
“I’m far from rich. It’s expensive to live in New York. You probably have more in your bank account than I have in mine.”
“But you know where you could get a lot of money if you need it. That makes a difference,” he reminded her.
“Let’s not spoil our few hours together arguing about our differences. That won’t change things.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Drew left the coastal road and turned upward toward several scattered houses perched on a rugged peninsula. He pulled into the driveway of a cottage, and Rissa noticed at once that it needed a coat of paint.
“This is home, sweet home for me. Come in.”
They climbed three steps to a narrow covered porch.
“Who is it? Who is it?” someone screeched as soon as Drew unlocked the door.
Rissa stopped abruptly and looked at Drew, reassured by the smile on his face.
“Come in and meet Rudolph.”
ELEVEN
He held the door for her and Rissa stepped into Drew’s living room. A blue-and-green parrot blinked at them from the security of a large cage. “We’ve got company, Rudolph. Come out and meet the lady.” He opened the cage door.
“Squawk,” the parrot answered, ruffling his feathers and turning his back on Drew.
“Ignore him. He’ll come out soon enough.”
Half-afraid of the parrot’s beady eyes and large beak, Rissa took Drew’s advice.
With a sweeping arm, Drew snagged her attention and she stopped watching the parrot.
“So you see where I live. We’re in the combination living room and kitchen now. My bedroom and hobby room are in the back. Not a very pretentious home, is it?”
Rissa looked around the area. She had never seen any house so lacking in the comforts of home. Was this the way Drew preferred to live…or couldn’t he afford anything better? She knew she hadn’t concealed her horror from Drew, because he laughed.
“I didn’t figure you’d like my home.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with the house except there isn’t anything in it,” she answered. “You don’t have any curtains or blinds.”
The hardwood floor had no carpet, not even a throw rug. His furniture consisted of a plastic-covered lounge chair parked in front of a medium-size television. A matching couch was located along the bedroom wall, but it was covered with magazines. Where else would he have put them? There wasn’t a table in the living area.
She muddled her way into the middle of the kitchen, unnerved by the starkness of her surroundings. There was a built-in sink, a refrigerator, a small range and a table with two folding chairs that had probably been there since the house had been built at least thirty years ago. An open door revealed a pantry. Drew leaned against the modern refrigerator while she gazed from one appliance to another.
Hearing a whirring sound next to her ears, she flinched as Rudolph landed on her shoulders.
“Oh!” she said and swatted at the parrot.
“Squawk.” Rudolph screeched, pecked her on the head, left her shoulder and landed on top of Drew’s head. He stared at her and clacked his beak.
Rissa collapsed into one of the chairs and tried to regain her composure. Drew took the parrot from his shoulder and tossed him toward the cage. Screeching, “Stop! Stop!” the parrot whizzed into the cage and pulled the door shut behind him.
Drew knelt beside Rissa. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head and clenched her hands together. Too late, Drew decided that he had g
one overboard in his effort to show Rissa that their worlds didn’t mix.
She covered her face with her hands, ashamed of her reaction to the parrot, but the bird had surprised her, which was more than her taut nerves could handle. She had already been on the verge of tears, shocked at Drew’s apparent content with his poor living conditions.
“Why do you live like this?” she asked. “And don’t tell me you can’t afford anything better. Portia told me how much Mick makes.”
He went to the sink, washed his hands and took a bottle of cola from the refrigerator. He filled two plastic cups with chipped ice and poured some of the cola over it. He gave one of the cups to her and she took a big swallow.
“The house I lived in when I was a kid wasn’t much better than this,” Drew said softly, trying to soften her shock at his austere surroundings. “My mother does live more comfortably now that she’s alone. I give her some financial help, too. And you’re right—I could live better than this, but why? I’d rather save my money. I don’t expect to stay a small-town cop all of my life. A bank account is my meal ticket to something better.”
“It isn’t my business, anyway, and I apologize for saying anything. The place seemed so bare, and I felt bad that you have to live here and then that parrot scared me. Forgive me?”
“Sure!” he said, raising his cup to her. “I’d forgotten about Rudolph until we started in the house or I’d have warned you.”
“Where’d you get him?”
“He belonged to an old seaman who lived in this house, but who died before I moved in. I rent the house from the man’s sister, and Rudolph sort of went with the place. I put up with him because it’s kinda nice to have something to come home to even if it is only a parrot.”
She finished her cola and set the cup on the table.
“Do you want me to fill it again?”
“No, thanks.”