She shrugged, looking down at his right hand that rested on the console between them. For a crazy instant she thought about his arm around her the day before when he had pulled her back from the quarry. She shivered again, realizing she was thinking too many personal thoughts about him. He was her boss. She had to keep a professional distance and the easiest way to do that was to insert the subject of their work. “Lily Feeney, of course,” she lied. “Do you suppose she walked these paths around here? Think about it. Her family was so well known she probably couldn’t go anywhere on the island without someone recognizing her. Maybe that was why she wanted to leave.”
He glanced over at her, and she realized he was studying her quickly before turning back to the road. “You’re thinking a lot about Lily.”
“Isn’t that my job?”
His smile was quick and approving. It sent a strange tingle running through her, warming her more than the car’s heater. “I think you may be a good fit for this job.”
Stacey turned away toward the window, hoping to hide her face from him. She knew it would be a bright red. She resolved to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the trip.
When they reached the house he carried her box inside and placed it beside the stairs. “I’ll have Joe take this up to your room. If you’re ready, we really should get back to work. We’ve had enough distractions.”
Much as she wanted to go up to her room, Stacey didn’t have a chance to protest. Mack was already marching toward the parlor and she followed him. Before she’d left, Stacey had neatly stacked all the folders in one corner so she would know what she had gone through. The neat piles were no longer sitting on the chair. Papers were strewn around the room.
Mack froze. “What the hell?” He turned to her and all his earlier goodwill was gone. “Is this what you call organized?”
Flustered, Stacey stared at the chaos of scattered paper. “Of course not! I…um…you think I did this? No! Someone opened a window or came in here and scattered my work while we were gone.”
The incredulous look in Mack’s face was like a slap across the face.
“You don’t believe me?”
He waved his left hand at the door. “Are you accusing someone in the house? Because who else could it be?”
Tears formed in her eyes, but Stacey refused to let them fall. The last couple of days he had either been rescuing her or yelling. Was this what Helen had run into?
She drew up and faced him. She might be confused about directions, but she wouldn’t be called a liar by anyone.
“I am not a hysterical female who freaks out at the drop of a hat, Mr. Warren. Just because I can’t tell right from left, and I almost fell down that quarry… I’m not making things up. I did see a man near the cliff. And…Carlos was in here before he left. He saw how neat it was. Ask him, if you don’t believe me.”
To her surprise, his look of anger began to dissipate and a smile tugged at his full lips. “I’m sorry, but this seems odd, don’t you think? I know you’re not hysterical, but it’s…”
“What? Strange? Did Helen Stanton ever say she saw or heard anything?”
He drew back, face growing rigid again, and she could see him withdraw. He mumbled something about cleaning up and then lumbered from the room.
Stacey stared at the closed door.
She should not have asked about Helen.
Or maybe he knew someone had been watching her friend?
Maybe he was doing the watching? He seemed to be at the heart of everything.
Originally she ruled out her friend committing suicide because of her personal acquaintance with Helen.
After visiting the site of Helen’s death, she was beginning to rule out an accident. The alternative was ugly, but with all these strange events, a tiny suspicion formed at the back of her head.
Murder?
Chapter Five
Stacey sat on her bed and frowned as she pulled her best black wool skirt from the box of clothes her mother had sent. Given that she had spent the afternoon and evening scooping papers off the floor and putting them into dusty folders, she’d have been better off asking for fresh jeans. At least Mom included plenty of fresh underwear and pajamas.
Oh, no! She cried out in sudden laughter. Her mother had also sent the silk rose nightie Helen had once bought as a gag gift. “Just in case,” Helen teased. In case of what? Stacey had never been tempted to wear it, not even for Phil.
She grimaced as she thought of Phil. They had been together for five years, even talked about marriage off and on, but he’d never invoked in her the strange tingling sensations she’d been feeling since meeting Mack Warren. She stroked the soft silk, enjoying the smooth touch on her fingers. What would he think of such a gown? A giggle escaped her. Stupid! He’d seen her without anything, and as she recalled, what he’d thought had been obvious. He’d been horrified.
But her crazy thoughts about Mack shot quickly from her mind. A corner of an envelope appeared under the matching sheer negligee and she glimpsed Helen’s writing. Pushing aside the gown, she yanked out a pile of envelopes, all addressed to her and unopened. A sticky note in her mother’s handwriting was stuck to the top envelope.
“Found these in my mail.”
No apology, no other comment. With a heavy sigh of relief, Stacey flipped through them. They were dated shortly after Helen’s final visit to Portland. Some were postmarked from Los Angeles. The letters! She found the oldest one and ripped it open. Inside she found a smaller sealed envelope and a one page letter.
Stace,
Please keep the letters I am sending in sealed envelopes. Don’t read them. Think of this as our secret adventure—like a Kendra story. I’ve uncovered some information that I need to keep somewhere safe. I don’t trust anyone so I’m sending the notes to you. Don’t open them unless I tell you. H
Stacey started to open the sealed envelope, but a quick rap on the door stopped her.
“Stacey?”
At the sound of Mack’s voice, she folded the letter and stashed it inside a desk drawer before answering. “Yes?”
“May I come in?”
“Certainly.” Too late she noticed the other letters on the bed and made a mad dash to grab them.
Unfortunately he was already entering. His blue eyes narrowed at her quick movements. “Something you would rather I didn’t see?”
Her face burned. “No, I just…” Her gaze fell on her sketch pad on the desk and she touched it.
He saw the pad and a quizzical expression crossed his face. “You sketch?”
Wrinkling her nose, she attempted an apologetic shrug. “I try.”
“May I look?”
She flipped the sketchbook open and held up the top picture, fearing he might flip back through the book and see the sketch she had drawn of him or worse—Helen.
He studied the picture she had drawn of the woods after her walk, a charcoal drawing that made them appear dense and forbidding. “I’ve never thought of our woods that way. This is interesting,” he said, stepping back.
Keeping a tight grip on the sketchbook, she thumbed through the pages to a Kendra drawing. “This is my cartoon character I invented. Kind of a super heroine. I call her Kendra.”
He nodded as he considered the fanciful drawing. “You have a great imagination. I’m no judge, but you’re quite good. You should show this to Peg. She’s an artist.”
His words of approval sparked a sudden flood of warmth through her limbs. She closed the book and turned away. “I guess I’m embarrassed by my work. My mother calls it doodling.” She put the book back on the desk.
His sudden chuckle sent another rush of heat through her. “No. What I do is doodling. That’s actual drawing. Anyway, I saw your light on and I wanted to say thank you for taking time to straighten up tonight. Did you get dinner?”
“Mrs. D brought me a sandwich. I didn’t mind. I didn’t want to fall behind. I told you I am not afraid of hard work.”
He turned to leave. “Of
course. Don’t worry about it.” He stopped and drew a deep breath and she followed the direction of his eyes. He was looking at her pile of clothes, more specifically, her filmy rose gown.
To her surprise his face turned as pink as the gown and he moved toward the door as though he could hardly wait to get away from her. “Good night, Stacey.”
****
Stacey woke early the next day. She wanted to get away from the house to read the other letters from Helen. She’d thought about them all night but resisted the urge to read them. She kept recalling Helen’s letter saying the walls had eyes and ears. What if someone was watching her? Could the room be bugged? She examined the intricate flower buds on the lemon wall paper, wondering if there was a camera lens hidden somewhere. Why had Mack turned up just as she was starting to read the letters?
In surreptitious motions, she stuffed the envelopes into a jacket pocket and headed out as soon as the day turned light. Mrs. D had not arrived so the kitchen was silent. As she stepped onto the porch, the blackened area that outlined the former coach house caught her eye. The trees at the edge of the dark spot were where she had seen someone the previous morning and she walked in that direction. Once she left the pavement the ground was soft and mushy. A fine mist cloaked her. She glanced back toward the house. The windows remained dark. Looking back, she noticed her footprints. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that before? The person she’d seen would have left footprints in the muddy earth. It could prove she was not imagining things.
The mist was turning to a soft rain and by the time she reached the area, big drops pelted the top of her uncovered head. She drew up the hood of her jacket and walked to where she had seen the person. There were light outlines of large footprints, but the rain was dissolving them.
Rats! Now what? She couldn’t get far from the house before she was soaked and the letters in her pocket might get soaked as well. With a reluctant sigh, she turned and started back toward the house just as the Delaney car pulled into the driveway. Joe and Kenny piled out.
Mrs. D’s glare was visible even from a distance and Joe waved as she approached. “You nuts?” he said. “It’s pouring.”
Only Kenny came dashing through puddles to meet her. “Were you looking for stuff?”
“Stuff?”
“From the fire? I found some beads. They wouldn’t let me keep ’em and they don’t let me go over there. The dead girl burned that place down.”
She grimaced. Hearing people accuse Helen of setting fire to the coach house bothered her and it was worse coming from the child.
“Mr. Mack said she was descruntled,” he continued.
“Disgruntled,” she corrected, “but I don’t think she did it.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard it was an electrical fire,” she replied, recalling Hap’s comments.
“Yeah, well, she coulda figured out a way to make it look like that,” Joe said. He was unloading grocery bags from the car’s trunk and handed one to Kenny.
Stacey reached inside the trunk and looped her hands through the handles of several bags. Joe took the rest and the three made their way up the steps as Mrs. Delaney came out of the kitchen. She reached for the bags from Stacey.
“That’s not your job,” she said, frowning at Joe.
He lifted a lean shoulder. “She volunteered.”
“I don’t mind,” Stacey said. “I need the exercise.”
“You’re not like that other girl,” Joe said, eyeing her with suspicion. “She screamed if I asked her to carry bread from one room to the next.”
“The girls are hired to help Mr. Mack, not do your chores,” his mother scolded.
He tossed his bags on the counter, before shuffling back toward the door. The rich scent of coffee filled the room.
“Smells good,” Stacey said. “I swear, Mrs. D, everything you cook always smells and tastes so good. I’m worried about gaining weight.”
A fleeting smile crossed the woman’s face, but she didn’t respond. She motioned toward a coffee maker on the counter. “If you get up early and need coffee, just turn it on. I always set it up the night before. I grind the beans in the afternoon before I leave so it’s always fresh. Better take off that jacket. You’re all wet.”
As Stacey started to remove it, she felt the bulge of letters. She buttoned the pocket shut as she hung it on a peg by the door.
Mrs. D poured a cup of coffee and put it on the table in the breakfast nook. “Do you want something now or do you want to wait for the others?”
“I’ll wait. Do you need some help? I’m no cook, but I once did prep work at a café.” She didn’t add it was closed by the health department.
The woman looked surprised at her offer. “No, it’s what they pay me for.”
Stacey retreated to the table. The coffee mug warmed her cold hands. “How did you come to work for the Warrens?”
“Del and I were working here when the place was a bed and breakfast. It’s kinda funny that Mr. Mack is writing that book on Lily. My older sister ran around with her and my mama once worked for old Mrs. Feeney.”
“Has he talked to you about Lily?”
“I don’t know much. I was pretty young when she left.”
A sudden thought hit Stacey. “Did that other researcher ask you about her?”
“All the time. She talked to my sister because Deena was going to Hollywood with Lily. They had a falling out and Deena got married instead.”
“Deena never saw Lily after she left?”
“Sure. Deena and Ray went to California for a visit, but it didn’t go well. They broke up when they got back and I think it had something to do with Lily.”
“Did you tell this to Mack?”
“Helen asked the same thing.” She laughed suddenly, a harsh sound, more like a bark. “Like maybe it coulda had something to do with her death.”
“Helen’s?”
The woman looked at her, face quizzical. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Stacey realized her mistake at once. “I’m sorry if I’m confusing you. I meant Lily’s.”
The woman’s face hardened. “I’m sure it didn’t and I don’t appreciate strangers spreading gossip. I don’t even know why I told you about that. It’s none of your business. Deena’s happily married. Got two good kids and a good man. She’s lucky she didn’t go with Lily or stay with Ray.”
“What happened to Ray?” The name had gone right by her the first time Mrs. D said it, but now Stacey remembered the men at the Gull’s Roost mentioning Ray. Helen had been looking for him.
Mrs. D. grunted. “That stupid fool went back to Hollywood after Lily and ended up in jail. Now I ain’t gonna talk about it anymore.”
Stacey finished her coffee in silence and headed back toward her room. As she passed the parlor door, she stopped. Maybe she should check to make certain her work from the previous night had not been disturbed again. She peered inside and smiled. The boxes rested untouched on the floor. One good thing had come from the mess. As she put the papers back into their proper folders she’d checked for Feeney notes. She’d found nothing, but now she was finished with those boxes.
She continued toward her room, pausing at the top of the stairs. All the doors were closed, but as she looked toward Mack’s room, a flash of light caught her eye. It came from under the door to her right—the door to the third floor. Was someone up there? The light flashed again. She stepped to the door and turned the knob. As Mack said, the door was locked. She leaned close to the door, listening, but the light went off, as though it had been extinguished.
A click sounded down the hall and she whirled around as Peg’s door opened.
“You’re up early,” Peg said.
“I went for a walk.”
“That’s crazy. It’s pouring rain.”
“I know. My jacket got soaked…” She clapped her hand to her mouth. She’d left the letters in the jacket pocket! Given Helen’s warnings and the weird things that kept h
appening, she needed to get them.
“What’s wrong?” Peg asked, as though sensing Stacey’s discomfort.
“I forgot something.” She hopped down the stairs ahead of Peg. Not wanting to remove the letters in front of an audience, she grabbed her damp coat from the hook and whirled around. By now Peg had reached the kitchen.
She crossed to the coffee machine, but she was watching Stacey. “You forgot your jacket? I don’t think you’ll need it upstairs.”
“Did you find something when you were poking around at the coach house?” Mrs. D asked.
“No.”
Peg stopped pouring coffee and focused her attention on Stacey. “What? You were at the coach house?”
Stacey grimaced, silently cursing the older woman. Or maybe she was getting even with her for being so nosy about Ray and Deena. “I was looking around. Mack said Helen Stanton put things on a flash drive. They’re so small…”
Peg’s voice was sharp as she began to stir sugar into her coffee. “Del and Mack conducted a thorough search for that flash drive. You don’t need to waste time on that.”
“She’s the curious sort,” Mrs. Delaney said from the stove where she was cracking eggs into a bowl. “She asked me about Lily.”
“Really?”
“For the book, you know,” Stacey said.
Peg’s face grew into a rigid mask and she dropped the spoon on the counter with a clatter. “I hired you to organize, keep notes and transcribe. I didn’t hire you to investigate.”
“I know, but—”
“No arguments. If you start playing games, I’ll let you go. Simple as that.” Her teeth clenched together. “Do you understand?”
Stacey couldn’t answer. She nodded and hugging her coat to her, she rushed toward the door.
****
She was still reeling from Peg’s display of temper as she stood in the hot shower letting the stinging spray warm her up. How stupid of her to be so open. Had Helen done the same thing? Could her curiosity have led to her death? Could the answer to Helen’s death be in those letters? She needed to read them, but how?
Shadows from the Past Page 6