“You’re such a dear to say that.” Catherine weakly laughed. “But you always were such a kind child. I wouldn’t expect anything less of you as a grown woman.” A slight smile curved at the corners of her lips.
Addie gulped. “Catherine, that’s not the first time you’ve mentioned knowing me when I was a child.”
“No . . . I knew you well.” She squeezed Addie’s hand.
Addie slowly pulled away and shifted on her chair. “How did you know me? Where? Here or in Boston?”
A faint smile crossed her lips. “Both, my dear. There was a time when I saw you most every week, here and in Boston.”
“Then why don’t I remember any of it?”
“You were so young, just a child. It was too much for me to expect you’d remember me when I went into your store that day, but you and your father were such an important part of my life for so long, I did hope.”
“My father? You knew him, too?”
“We were very close for a few years.”
“Close how?” Addie’s eyes bored into her.
Catherine took a deep breath and gazed into Addie’s eyes. “This isn’t the way I planned on telling you,” she sighed. “I wanted to do it over tea or dinner, but you need to know, since you’re living in Greyborne Manor and the Harbor now.” She bit her lip, looked at Addie, and swallowed hard. “I was your father’s lover.”
Addie felt the color drain from her face. She sat back, her breath caught in her throat, and she choked. “His lover? But how? What about my mother?”
“It wasn’t like that. Honest. When we first met, you weren’t more than a baby. He was visiting your aunt. Your mother had become very ill by then, and he needed to get away for a few days. It was hard on him to go to the hospital day after day and watch her slowly getting sicker, and him knowing there was nothing he could do.”
Addie’s eyes narrowed as she looked at this woman who was telling her about a side of her father she had never known and that her mother had died a slow, agonizing death. She leaned closer to Catherine, dreading but needing to hear what she might say next.
“I was at your aunt’s house with my mother. They were very close friends, and we met. He was so afraid and so lonely. We just came together as friends. I swear.” She paused and looked at Addie, her eyes searching for reassurance to continue.
Addie’s trembling hand reached over and patted hers.
Catherine swallowed hard again. “We visited back and forth, taking you on weekend getaways. I was newly divorced, and it was the perfect companionship for both of us. We were happy, all three of us. You were too young to miss your actual mother—not much older than a toddler—so it was natural you clung to me so much.”
Addie shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t have. I don’t believe you.”
Catherine’s pale eyes fogged with tears, and she nodded and whispered, “Okay.”
“So you were friends.” Addie cleared her tight throat and coughed. “My father never mentioned it though. I never knew I had visited here before. I didn’t even know I had a great-aunt, let alone a town named after my family. So forgive me for not understanding any of this, or why a friendship of my father’s so many years ago plays an important role in my life now.” She sat back and crossed her arms, staring at the pale woman lying in the bed in front of her.
“Because you need to know what happened and why you were never told about Greyborne Harbor or your aunt.”
Addie leaned closer again and folded her hands on her lap to keep them from shaking. “Go on. What happened?”
“As I said, we were friends for a long time, but . . . the sicker your mother got, and the more time we spent together, the closer we became, and . . . it developed into something more.”
Addie clenched her jaw.
“We became lovers.” She let out a deep breath.
Addie’s head began to spin. She couldn’t focus and grabbed the side of the bed. “If you were lovers, why did he never tell me about you?”
“Because it almost killed your grandmother, and it destroyed her relationship with her sister-in-law, your aunt.”
Addie sat back. “Why? What happened between them?”
“Your grandmother found out about us and the fact that we’d been involved for some time. She was furious with your father, and then when she found out Anita had known for a few years and encouraged it, they had a horrible fight.”
Addie bit her lip, thinking back to her grandmother and how strict she had been when she was growing up. Addie hadn’t been allowed to start dating or even attend a party where boys might be present, so this didn’t surprise her.
“Your grandmother was a very dear, sweet woman, but she had strong morals, and when she discovered Michael and I had been seeing each other when your mother was still alive, despite the fact she was so sick and there was no hope, and then when she found out I was a divorced woman, she . . . well, she threatened to take you away from him if we didn’t put an end to it immediately. Your aunt was furious and tried to reason with her for your sake, but she wouldn’t listen, and they never spoke again, as far as I know.” She rubbed her face with her hands and sobbed.
Addie took a tissue from the box on the bedside table and handed it to her. Numbness crept through her body, and her chest tightened. She tried to imagine how horrible that time must have been for her father, being threatened with losing his only child.
“I’m sorry.” Catherine sniffled. “It still hurts. You see, he broke it off right then. I didn’t see him again until the day, the day he died.”
“Wait a minute. You saw him the day he died?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I always lived in hope that after your grandmother passed away he would come back, but he didn’t. Then I lived in hope that when you grew up and went out on your own, he would want to see me again.” She shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Then one day, out of the blue, he called and said he was in town and needed to see me.” She half smiled. “I was so happy. I thought we’d finally be together.” Her shoulders slumped. “He wanted to meet for coffee at a small restaurant near the harbor. As soon as he walked through the door, I knew something was wrong, and that he wasn’t there to reconnect with me. He looked horrible, his face drawn and pale. His eyes looked, looked—”
“Like what? He looked like what?” Addie grasped her thin arm.
“Afraid. He looked afraid and nervous. He kept watching the door and checking out the window. I didn’t know what to think. I had waited so long for this moment, but it wasn’t to be.”
Addie frowned. “Well, why did he call you, then? Didn’t it seem odd after all those years?”
“I was hopeful at first,” she sighed. “But it didn’t take long to find out why he called.”
Addie leaned forward. “Why?”
“He said I was the only person he could trust and wanted me to know he had dropped off a package for you with Raymond James. That if anything ever happened to him, he wanted to make sure someone else knew Raymond had the package, and I was to make sure it got to you somehow and no one else.”
Addie shivered. “What package? Raymond never gave me one.”
“I know. I just found that out the day Raymond . . . died.” She sobbed and blew her nose. “I always thought that he had given it to you when you first came to Greyborne Harbor, but the morning he . . . died, he called me and asked me to come to his office. It was a Sunday, but I knew Ray often worked weekends, so I thought nothing of it.”
Addie’s skin prickled. “Was he alive when you got there?”
“Yes, very much so. He was a bit pale, but seemed fine. He gave me an envelope with what felt like a small box inside and told me not to open it. He said it was something he should have given you months ago but didn’t. He then said for me to give it to you, and that I was to tell no one I had it. He said you were to tell no one as well.”
“Where is it now?”
“I was so confused when I left his office. He seemed afraid of something, almost l
ike your father did that last time I saw him. I went directly home and put it in my secret hiding place.”
Addie let out a deep breath. “You do know your house was ransacked the day of your accident, don’t you?”
Catherine’s eyes filled with horror.
“Which means it’s more than likely—”
“No.” She shook her head. “Impossible. My hiding place is virtually undetectable. I’m sure of that.”
Addie chewed on her bottom lip. “Well, I guess we’d better hurry up and get you well so you can go home and we can see what’s in this mysterious envelope.” She rose to her feet.
Catherine grasped Addie’s hand. “I’m so glad I had the opportunity to tell you about your father.” Tears filled her eyes. “I want you to know what a loving and kind man he really was and how important you were to him. Your mother, too. Even after he and I became involved, he still visited her most every day. He truly loved her.”
Addie smiled down at her. “I know.” She patted her hand. “I know.” Tears burned her eyes and she quickly turned and headed to the door, but then stopped. “Catherine, who are the two women you were having dinner with the other night at the hotel?”
“Nobody, really—why do you ask? Were you there?”
“Yes, I saw you with them. I was just heading out, and they looked familiar. I was just curious, that’s all.”
“They’re friends . . . actually, were friends”—her voice dropped to a hush—“of Raymond’s. They’re collectors from Boston and came to town looking for antiques. He said I was the perfect person to show them around and introduce them to some of our local residents who had been known to sell to dealers. Surely you must have met them in Boston?”
“Yes, that’s probably why they looked familiar.”
“Well, when I first met them, they mentioned you by name and said they were interested in getting together with you sometime during their stay. So I decided to have all of you come for tea so you could chat, thinking you knew them.”
Addie winced and sucked in a sharp breath. “Perhaps, but I met so many collectors through my work.” Addie bit her lip. “So they were at your house just before I arrived?”
“Yes, we’d had a cup of tea already, and I got up to refill the pot because you were expected shortly, and—well, I must have stood up too fast and . . . then my head felt like it was going to explode and that’s the last thing I remember until I ended up here.”
Addie flinched, then forced a wooden smile and patted Catherine’s hand. “Chief Chandler mentioned to the officer who was here earlier that you thought I might be in danger. What was that all about?”
“The envelope. I mean, your father and Raymond seemed to be so nervous about it, and they both ended up dead. I’m afraid if I give it to you . . .”
“I’m sure it’s not cursed, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She smiled reassuringly at her. “Well, I’ll leave you to get some rest. We have to get you well soon.”
“Thank you, Addie.” She turned her head and stared toward the window.
Addie watched her close her eyes. Maybe Catherine was thinking of Addie’s father. Well, whatever it was that she was thinking about, Addie’s head was spinning, and she needed air.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Addie teetered into the hallway. Pressing her back to the wall, she took deep breaths.
“Are you all right?” Marc leapt to his feet from the chair by the door.
All she could do was nod.
“Whatever she said, it looks like it’s shaken you up pretty badly.” He clasped her shaking shoulders.
She stared blankly at him, trying to understand his words. When she opened her mouth to speak, words wouldn’t come out.
“You were in there a long time. She must have said something about what happened?”
“She, she said lots, but I’m still trying to get my head aroun—”
“Thanks, Chief, I needed that break.” The young officer swept around the corner, a steaming paper cup in his hand.
“No problem,” Marc said. “I’m going to take Miss Greyborne back now.” He placed his arm protectively around her and ushered her down the hall. “Jerry will be along in a few hours to relieve you,” he called over his shoulder.
“Thanks, Chief.”
“Oh, and remember”—Marc turned around and stared at the young man—“no one except hospital staff goes in that room. Call me immediately if anyone else tries to.”
“Yes, sir, will do.” He sat down and pulled a newspaper from under his arm.
Addie looked at Marc. “No visitors? Did you find something out?”
“I’ll tell you outside.”
Addie took a deep breath. The fresh air relieved the burning in her lungs and the pounding in her head. The information Catherine had thrown at her was way too much, but the one thing that she could focus on now was the gnawing she had in her gut. It told her the envelope was the key to it all, but what exactly was in it, and why were people trying to kill for it? That is what she had to work out. The rest was just too raw and painful to absorb right now, and she breathed deeply, trying to push it all from her mind.
Marc, his brow furrowed, looked steadily at her as he opened the car door. His face was pinched, and his eyes were filled with concern. He reached across her, secured the seat belt, and gave her a faint, reassuring smile. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, thinking he really was a tender man under the staunch police chief exterior.
“It’s obvious that whatever she said has shaken you up pretty badly.” He fastened his seat belt and turned on the car.
“Yes, yes it has.” She gazed unseeing out the window as they pulled onto the road.
Marc made a sudden turn down a side street, pulled the patrol car over to the curb, and shifted into park. “We can sit here for a few minutes if you want before you go back to the shop.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” she whispered and took a deep breath. She could feel his eyes on her as she rested her head against the cool glass of the side window. Despite her best efforts to push Catherine’s revelations from her thoughts, her mind kept replaying the news she had shared with her. Everything Addie had known her whole life now seemed like a lie, no matter if it was meant to protect her.
“Serena said once she felt like she already knew me before the day we met in front of my store.” She shifted upright and looked at Marc. “Do you know anything about that?”
Marc’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Why?”
She shook her head and peered out the window again. “It’s nothing. Just wondering.”
“I think you’d better start from the beginning and tell me what Catherine said to you.”
Addie counted to ten, took a deep breath, and then relayed Catherine’s story to him. When she had finished, Marc was staring straight ahead, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked over at her, his eyes wide. “And you knew nothing of all this before?”
“No, I’m in complete shock. I understand my father not wanting to share a lost love affair with his daughter, but to find out I had spent a great deal of time here in the Harbor and never knew it is, well, it’s . . .”
He grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure if he had told you, you would have had questions, and the answers would have been too painful for him, so because it was over and she wasn’t part of your lives anymore, he just thought it better not to mention it at all.”
“You’re probably right, and it does answer the question of Serena saying she felt like we had met before, doesn’t it? We probably did.”
“Come to think of it”—he put his head back on the headrest—“I remember our mother taking us to the playground at the top of the hill by your aunt’s house one day. She was reading, and Serena was playing in the sandbox with another little girl. Mom had told me to keep an eye on her, and I was mad because a few of my school friends were there, and I wanted to go off and play with them but had to watch her.”
Addie
chuckled. “I bet you were a great big brother.”
“Well, not really.” He scratched his head. “I did eventually run off into the trees to play hide-and-seek, and then I heard Serena crying and my mom calling me.”
Addie winced. “What happened?”
“Serena was fine. She toddled over to me and wrapped her chubby little arms around my neck, crying because her new best friend had to leave with her daddy. Mom was furious at me for leaving her alone, and I was grounded for a week.” He shrugged. “Guess that’s why I remember it so well.”
“Well, who knows. Maybe I was the friend she made that day.” Addie smiled and put her head back. “But I guess we’ll never find out. Just like I’ll never know the real reasons my father didn’t tell me about Greyborne Harbor.”
A slight smile crept across Marc’s face. “Attagirl. Let’s move forward.”
“Right.” She sat up straight and looked at him. “We have to focus on what we do know, or at least what we can find the answers to.”
“I think a good place to start is with that envelope Catherine told you about. I have a feeling it’s more important than we think it is.”
“Yes, I’ve got to get my hands on it, and soon. What did the doctor say about her collapse?”
“That’s the thing. He said there was a large external hematoma. A bruise and swelling at the back of her head. She’d been knocked out.”
“The vase. I knew it. That means they were still in the house when I knocked. Someone had to have been keeping watch, because I saw the curtains move.”
He sat straight up in his seat. “Did she say who they were?”
“Yes.” She slapped her forehead. “Sorry, I meant to tell you right away, but she said so many other things that my mind’s—”
“That’s all right.” He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I understand.”
“I asked her very casually who the two women were that she had dinner with the other night at the hotel and told her I thought I recognized them from somewhere—because I did. They were the same two women who had been in my shop. When Serena came, she pointed out the tall one as being the woman who wanted to buy the knockout tea from her.”
Murder by the Book Page 18