Hildy scowled. For a minute Liv wasn’t sure if she was going to throw her out or burst into tears. “He always gives the signal. I had his favorite sandwiches packed up for the drive. It’s always the same, year after year.”
Hildy stood up and Liv was afraid that Hildy was ending the conversation, but she merely got a tin off the counter and offered Liv a cookie from it.
Hildy sat heavily in her chair. “I just don’t understand.”
“What?”
“What Jacob was doing up on the roof. It just don’t make sense.”
“Maybe Mr. Gallantine asked Jacob to stand in for him for some reason.”
“Never,” Hildy snapped. “Mr. G never liked him. Don’t know why he kept him on. Always putting his nose where it didn’t belong. Then, last week, Mr. G and him had a terrible fight. Mr. G had come downstairs and found him in the parlor. Had no reason to be there. Talked some nonsense about the electricity. He fancied he knew things like electricity and plumbing as well as gardening. Full of beans, that one.
“Anyway, I could hear it all the way down the hall, where I was cleaning. Mr. G said he was not to come inside the house anymore, and he’d fire him if he did.”
“Do you know what the fight was about?”
“I wasn’t listening, if that’s what you think.”
“Of course not.” Liv backed off. She didn’t want to alienate the woman. She might have been the last person to see Henry Gallantine before he disappeared.
“Hildy, nobody can find Mr. Gallantine. He’s not at his sister’s. They can’t find his car. Do you have any idea where he could be?”
“No.” And then Hildy did start to cry.
Even after all the abuse Hildy had doled out indiscriminately, Liv felt sorry for her.
“Did they fight a lot? Did Mr. Gallantine have a temper?”
The tears stopped abruptly. “If you’re thinking he killed Jacob—”
“No, of course not,” Liv said quickly.
“He’s like a lamb most of the time. But he does get broody. Just sits in his chair like he just didn’t give a hoot for living. But he don’t usually yell like he was doing to Jacob.” Hildy took a cookie and dunked it into her tea. “I was afraid he was going to give himself a stroke, the way he was carrying on.” She slid the soggy cookie into her mouth and chewed.
“Was he ill?”
“No, just excitable. These movie-people types. Never grew out of it, Mr. G, even though he hadn’t had a part in forty years at least. Used to have videotapes of his old movies from when he was a boy. Had them all changed over to DVDs. Sometimes he’ll pull one out and watch it.
“Sad, a man of his age, just watching and laughing like it wasn’t some dumb movie that nobody remembered.”
“Leo said sometimes he watched the movies with Mr. Gallantine.”
“Don’t know why Mr. G took a liking to that boy. Guess cause Leo never grew up either. Two of a kind, though Mr. G has his wits about him.”
Hildy snorted. “Playing games and looking for treasure. Put notions into that boy’s head. There ain’t no treasure, just some crazy rumor that Mr. G kept alive just to make himself feel important, even though everybody who ever saw his movies had long forgotten him. It didn’t do no harm, I guess. Until he started filling that boy’s head with ideas. And look where it got him.”
“Where?”
“That boy was after Mr. Henry’s money, and after how kind Mr. G had been to him. I heard him say so that night in the kitchen when he killed Jacob. I think he meant to kill Mr. G. Didn’t know it was old Jacob until it was too late.”
Liv stared at her.
“Maybe he killed both of them.” Hildy pushed herself ponderously to her feet. “I hope he isn’t dead. He’s not always the easiest to deal with, but I’m used to him. But I’d never work for Mr. G’s sister if she comes to live here. I’d rather some museum got this old place than her and that son of hers. Though, what I’m going to do I don’t know. I’d best get back to work now. But, Ms. Montgomery, you oughta be careful with that Charlie Bristow. Always had a way with the girls. None of ’em could ever say no.” She nodded wisely.
“Thanks, Hildy, I will be.” Liv said, taken aback at the woman’s concern. She looked in her bag, pulled out her business card, wrote her cell number down. “Here’s my number. If you think of anything, need help, or just want to talk, whatever. You can reach me at this number.”
Hildy, looking somewhat abashed, took it.
“And, Hildy. Try not to worry. We don’t know that Mr. Gallantine is dead.”
Hildy looked at her like she was crazy. “Well, if he ain’t dead, just tell me where he is.”
“I can’t, Hildy. I wish I could.” Liv stood and carried her cup over to the sink. A flash of movement outside the window caught her eye. She looked out. Looked more closely. Someone was out there, and she thought she knew who it was.
She also thought that if Hildy found out, she’d be running for her shotgun.
“I’m sorry, Hildy, I have to go. I’ll let myself out.” Liv grabbed her bag.
“I don’t mind,” Hildy said, and began to amble toward the front door.
It seemed to take an eon for them to get to the door. And then for Hildy to close it behind her. But it had given Liv time to make a decision. No way was she going to risk Hildy and her shotgun by walking around to the back. She went out the front gate and sprinted down the sidewalk.
She didn’t think twice when she came to the driveway where Chaz had led her to the gate into the Gallantine estate. It was full steam ahead.
It was hard to tell where she and Chaz had tramped though the shrubs to get to the wall. Things had already begun to grow over in the few days since the fireworks. But when she came to a place that looked more accessible than the rest, she slipped in between the bushes. Within a few feet she came to the stone wall that surrounded the Gallantine estate.
It was easy to see the door from here, because the ivy was torn where Chaz had pulled it apart. She pulled at the vines, clearing the doorway. The ivy would grow back; ivy always did. She started to lift the iron latch and realized the gate wasn’t fully closed. Chaz must have left it open so they would be able to get out again. She pushed the gate inward, just enough to stick her head in and make sure no one was on the other side.
Chaz hadn’t left the gate open. And Liv wasn’t the only person sneaking back onto the property. Resting up against the brick wall was a tripod and camera case. Mr. Grossman must have thought they would be safe here while he was… What could he possibly be doing that he had to sneak around instead of asking to be let in the yard?
Liv left the gate open in case she needed to make a quick getaway, and began to slowly make her way toward the house.
To her left was a clothesline of clean towels. Hildy must have done the wash that morning. The laundry blocked Liv’s view of the kitchen. And Hildy’s view to this part of the lawn.
Which was a good thing. Liv had just worked hard to win a little bit of Hildy’s trust, and she didn’t want to jeopardize it by having Hildy catch her snooping around the estate again. On the other hand, she wanted to know what the Onyx curator was up to.
She’d just take a quick look and would quietly let herself out again.
She skirted the turret, where they’d climbed to the roof. Kept her back to the wall of the house and inched along the rough stones until she came to the corner of the house. She peered around the side.
She didn’t see Grossman anywhere. Actually, it was hard to see anything though the leafy trees.
She scooted along until she was beneath the ledge where the ghost must have landed after his disappearing act. At least, she thought that was the ledge. The house was an architectural nightmare, with ledges and small roofs jutting out all over the place.
She stepped away from the house and looked up. There was
the window the killer hadn’t climbed through to get back inside. But there was another ledge three feet below it and to the right. And another to the left, a little lower.
She bet it would have been fun to climb as a teenager, like Chaz and his buddies had done. How many boys had taken that rite of passage and jumped from level to level until they were safely on the ground? How many broken legs and collarbones had it taken to impress the girls? And who had made the same leap only three nights before, after killing a man?
Between the house and the woods, the lawn was trampled and churned up where Daniel Haynes had sat on horseback, waiting for his cue to begin the attack.
What if he’d looked up? He might have seen the killer make his escape. At least he might have seen him in the split second when the murderer had jumped to the ledge, arms spread wide, then disappeared. After that, he would have been hidden by the ledge. He only had to wait until the attack began, and then leisurely climb down to the ground.
A movement down at the water’s edge brought her back to her main purpose for skulking about the grounds. George Grossman had stepped into the opening between the trees. If he looked around, he would catch Liv looking back at him.
She made a mad dash across the swath of lawn to the trees, threw herself behind one, and peered out just as Grossman turned to retrace his steps. Liv stepped behind the tree and pressed herself against the rough bark. Waited a few seconds and carefully looked out again.
Now he was looking into the opposite stand of trees. His back was to her, and Liv took the opportunity to move closer to the lake.
What was he doing? Why all the stealth? Liv supposed the museum might use the grounds for something, like the Women’s Club held events in the manicured garden of the club building. But why not just ask to see the property again?
He disappeared from view again, and Liv kept edging toward the water. He might be on an innocent recce, but Liv didn’t think so. There was something not on the up-and-up with this guy. And since she’d come this far, she was determined to find out what he was up to.
As Grossman stood there, another man appeared. Liv recognized that madras jacket even at this distance. Gallantine’s nephew and the museum man? Definitely something spurious going on.
They’d acted like they’d never met before when they’d shaken hands a few hours ago. And Grossman hadn’t been out of her sight more than a few minutes the entire day. Had they planned this meeting?
The nephew quickly looked around. Liv plastered herself to a tree, heart pounding. She peeked out again just as he took Grossman’s elbow and led him back out of Liv’s sight line.
Liv took the chance to move even closer, though she felt rather silly, jumping from tree to tree like a cartoon character. What would she say if they caught her? What would they say? She’d make sure to take the offensive.
And if Frankie Boy got violent, she had no doubt that she could hold her own against him. She’d taken out Cliff Chalmers one night, though it had been more of a case of him tripping into her fist. But, whatever worked. She’d spent good money on those self-defense lessons.
Little by little she narrowed the distance between them until she could see them standing in front of the derelict boathouse. She didn’t think it was still in use. It should have been torn down years ago. It was an accident waiting to happen.
They didn’t go inside, but stood facing each other. Then, abruptly, they shook hands and Grossman walked away. He was leaving. And coming right toward her.
Liv lunged behind a bush and held her breath while he passed by barely four feet away. She held perfectly still until she could only see his back darting through the trees.
She turned her attention back to the nephew. But he’d disappeared, too.
She had no choice but to stay where she was, surrounded by scratchy branches, and listen. He could be anywhere, but surely she’d hear him before he saw her.
But what she heard was a door creaking on rusty hinges. And when she got up the courage to look out of her hiding place, she saw that the door to the boathouse was open.
Frankie Boy must have gone inside.
Liv crawled forward and waited to see if he would reappear or if he had a boat there and would take off on the lake. After a good five minutes, he hadn’t left by water or by land. The boathouse wasn’t that big. What was he doing?
She began to get impatient, worried about her agenda for the evening meeting, but not willing to leave until she saw what he was up to.
When he finally came out, he was carrying a small suitcase, and Liv could guess what might be inside.
Of course. It hadn’t been the teenagers at all. She bet there was loot in that suitcase and he’d been storing pieces there until he had enough to… sell? Is that what he’d been talking to Grossman about? It didn’t make sense if Grossman was planning to buy the mansion and its contents.
Unless Grossman had also seen him pocket the little figurine and decided to confront him. Maybe that was why he left so suddenly. He’d seen Frankie when he’d been looking out the window.
This was definitely turning into a job for the sheriff. And she’d call him as soon as it was safe to leave. He would yell at her, but he might be able to stop Frankie before he got away.
She watched as he padlocked the boathouse, picked up the case, and walked away in the same direction the museum director had. But Liv was farther away now, and she just waited until she figured he’d had time to get to the gate and leave.
Still, she was careful as she backtracked to the gate, stood still listening before she stepped from the safety of the trees, then cautiously let herself out.
Chapter Fifteen
There was no sign of George Grossman or Frank Gallantine.
The whole thing was getting crazier and crazier, Liv thought as she walked back to Town Hall. Henry Gallantine missing, Rundle dead, Henry’s nephew helping himself to Henry’s possessions, Grossman insisting he owned Henry’s mansion and intending to prove Henry’s ancestor really was a traitor, Henry filling Leo’s head with tales of treasure, Grossman and the nephew in league together.
And Liv still had to finish her report for the committee meeting roundup tonight. Well, there was one thing she could take care of while she was walking back to town.
She called Bill.
His voice mail picked up the call. “It’s Liv. I’ve been at Gallantine House accompanying Mr. Grossman from the Onyx Conservancy, who is doing an inventory preceding his purchase of the property. Thanks a lot for insisting he have a public official go with him. That official was me.
“I met him there, and when Hildy let us in, Mr. Gallantine’s nephew was in the parlor. I’m pretty sure I saw him pocket a figurine off a display table before Hildy kicked him out.
“Now I’m on my way back to the office, but I saw the nephew and the museum guy just meet down by the lake. After Grossman left, the nephew went into the boathouse and came out with a suitcase. Don’t know if it means anything, but if you hurry you might catch him. There’s more, but—”
She heard a ping. Her time had run out, which was just as well. She’d give him the details at the office, where he would no doubt be waiting for her.
Where I’ll have Ted to run interference. Because she was pretty sure Bill was going to blow a gasket over her spying on the men at the boathouse.
She hadn’t gone half a block when sweat began to trickle down her back. Inside the thick stone walls of the mansion, it had been cool. Out on the street, the humidity was high and even the breeze off the lake didn’t do much to make her walk comfortable.
Her stomach growled. It was after five and she hadn’t eaten since Dolly’s pastries that morning. If she hurried, she’d just have enough time to take Whiskey home, grab something to eat, and hurry back for the meeting. Which left her no time for her final preparations. But at least she might avoid having to face Bill on an empty stom
ach.
She needed to start concentrating on the meeting. She wanted to be super prepared tonight. There were bound to be questions about the demise of Jacob Rundle.
She passed the Clarion building and, though she tried not to look, she did. It looked just as deserted as it had before, not that it was ever a hotbed of activity. Still, she was a little worried about Chaz. He never wanted to get involved, but he always did, and he always complained about it. And he’d helped with Leo. She knew she could count on him in a pinch, but she could tell something was eating at him.
She wished she could help, but Chaz wasn’t one for sharing. Nor evidently was Henry Gallantine, nor Ted, who entered into every scheme or plan or idea with enthusiasm but never gave any information about his own past.
She, to her discredit, had actually done a search on Google for Ted and found nothing, an occasional mention in reference to Celebration Bay and its festivals, but no personal information. Of course, a lot of people didn’t have Facebook pages or websites. But until she’d moved to town, she hadn’t known anyone who didn’t.
Chaz was another story. She’d done plenty of research on him—strictly for purposes of information gathering of course—and he had a long trail of investigative reporting before he’d dropped out and moved back to Celebration Bay to take over the paper. After that, there had only been a few fishing articles until those articles about the kidnapping trial.
Losing that case must really be bugging him. For a few minutes when they were climbing around the roof of Gallantine House, he’d seemed like his old self, but it ended as soon as they’d gotten into Bill’s cruiser; he clammed up, and she hadn’t heard from him since.
Of course, it had only been one day, but usually he’d be right back, comparing notes with her. She would see him tonight; he was bound to be on hand to report the outcome of the meeting for the Clarion.
She passed the rectory and saw Leo sitting on a bench in the side yard. He was slumped forward, and at first she had a horrible moment of panic. She crossed the street to take a closer look. But when she got nearer she saw that he was just slouched forward breaking off pieces of a twig and dropping them on the grass at his feet.
Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay Page 17