Proof of Murder

by Lauren Elliott

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Blake Edwards of Edwards Auction House. Are you here for the brokers preview?”

  “Yes, we are,” a sandy-haired man singsonged in an Irish lilt as he produced a card from the inside pocket of his navy blazer, presented it to Blake, and extended his hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Edwards. I’m Philip Atkinson of Dublin . . .”

  Addie’s knees turned to Jell-O and her peripheral vision blurred. Disembodied voices drifted in and out of her head, but she couldn’t make out any words. Philip Atkinson?

  Addie had never met the man, but she’d had more than her share of unpleasant dealings with him on the phone and by e-mail when she worked at the British Museum. He was a ruthless broker who would stop at nothing to acquire whatever book or relic his high-paying clients paid him to secure.

  Addie struggled to refocus on the group just as they moved toward the registration table.

  Blake touched Addie’s elbow. “Addie, are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. There have just been a few surprises today, and I guess with not eating, it all got the best of me.”

  “Would one of those surprises include seeing Mr. Atkinson again?”

  “You know?”

  “Only what your father told me.”

  Addie scanned the foyer on the lookout for prying ears. “Which was what?”

  “Only that Atkinson tried to tarnish your reputation as an appraiser at the British Museum by accusing you of being a fraud.”

  “Did Dad tell you why that all happened?”

  “No, but I could tell he was very upset. He even called and asked me to accompany him to London to help you out, but that was the last word I heard about it. So I assumed you managed to salvage your good name on your own. You did, didn’t you?” Blake’s eyes narrowed.

  “Yeah, it took some time and a few lawyers running interference later, but Philip finally withdrew his charge—with an apology—and said he had made an error in assessing my appraisal skills, and it was all dropped.”

  “Good,” Blake said, grinning. “Then it all worked out.”

  “Look, Blake, Philip would only be here for one reason, and that’s because something was advertised in your catalogue that one of his clients wants desperately.”

  “That’s what brokers do, isn’t it? They track down and acquire pieces for their clients.”

  “Yes, but this particular broker has no scruples and will do anything to get his hands on what he’s after.”

  “I can handle Philip Atkinson. Remember, I learned about how brokers operate from one of the best, your father.” He patted the back of her hand. “Now you get home, little lady, and get some food into that belly of yours. Okay?”

  Addie’s heart resumed a healthy rhythm. “Okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. If you promise me you’ll keep a close eye on Philip. I don’t trust him.”

  “You have my word.” He kissed her cheek.

  Addie followed Kalea, but as they started out onto the porch, frigid air swirled around Addie’s bare legs like an icy fog. The fine hairs on the back of her neck tingled, and like earlier today in the library, she had the same overwhelming sensation of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder and down the corridor, half expecting to find Philip staring at her, but out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a shadowy figure at the top of the staircase. Her mouth went desert dry. She gulped, trying to swallow the grit lodged in the back of her throat.

  “Are you okay?” Blake waved his hand in Addie’s face. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  Addie glanced at the top of the stairs, now apparition free, and then back at her old family friend. “I’m fine, really. It’s just been a long day, I guess.” She refused to double-check for ghosts.

  “Kalea,” he called, “I think it’s best you take Addie out for a strong coffee and get some food into her immediately. The day appears to have gotten the best of her. Working with Charlotte tends to do that.” His laugh was short and humorless. “Now scoot. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you both for saving my butt today.” Blake waved as the door clicked shut behind them.

  “Mind telling me what just happened to you?” Kalea leaned into Addie’s ear and whispered. “I’ve never seen the color drain so fast from your face, not even that night you took me to the bar for tequila shots on my twenty-first birthday.”

  Addie paused on the pathway and glanced back at the house. The derelict hanging shutters, framing the windows, gave the impression the house had eyes, and they were mocking her. “It was nothing, just overtired, I guess.” What else could have caused her ghostly sighting—hallucination, she corrected herself.

  “You probably just need food and some rest.”

  “Yes, and I can’t wait to tear into a steak at the Grey Gull Inn.”

  “Well . . . there’s kind of been a change in plans.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m going to have to reschedule our dinner. Something came up at the last minute.”

  “Would that something be Garrett Edwards?”

  “Look, I’ll call you first thing in the morning. We can come to the auction together. How’s that?”

  “I told Blake I’d come in early to help with the setup. I’m pretty sure you won’t want to be here at eight a.m.”

  “Eight’s fine. I’m happy to help out and it will give us more time to visit.”

  “Okay, then. Call me”—Addie pressed her business card into Kalea’s hand—“and we can meet here, or you can stop by my house for a quick coffee first, and then we come over together, whatever you prefer.”

  “I’ll meet you here,” Kalea said, stuffing the card into her pocket, “but I’ll let you know if I’m running late. Mornings aren’t really my thing.” She chuckled as she steered Addie through the front gate. “At least let me drive you to your shop now. You’re so pale. I’m guessing that you’re in no condition to drive.”

  Addie’s head jerked. “That white Lexus LS is your car?”

  “Yes. Well, Nolan bought it for me as a birthday gift, but it’s mine. Why, is there a problem?” She looked blankly at her cousin.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll drive myself.” Addie swung on her heel, now fueled by adrenaline, and marched up the street toward her Mini.

  “I’ll call you first thing in the morning,” Kalea called after her.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Addie waved over her shoulder without looking back.

  Chapter 5

  Addie parked in her spot at the back of Beyond the Page and raced inside to the front counter. “Thank you so much, Paige. You’re a lifesaver. I really didn’t think my little outing would take all day.” She dropped a pod into the coffeemaker and glanced around the shop. By the stacks of books sitting beside the leather reading chairs, and the number of empty paper cups in the trashcan, the store had been busy today. While Addie waited for her coffee to finish brewing, she caught Paige staring at her. “What?”

  “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “Were you actually inside Hill Road House?”

  “Yes, of course I was. That’s where the auction is.”

  Paige rounded the carved-oak Victorian counter. “Did . . . did you see her?”

  “See who?” Addie’s head jerked up. “My crazy cousin? How did you know she was in town?”

  “What? No, I didn’t even know you had a cousin.” Paige’s eyes fixed wide on Addie’s. “I was talking about her: Kathleen Gallagher, the young woman who mysteriously fell down the stairs and died in the house. Some say she was pushed, but they could never prove it.”

  “Pffft.” Addie waved her hand, retrieving her coffee from the machine. “Surely you don’t believe Serena’s tall tale, too?”

  “It’s not a tall tale. They say Kathleen’s ghost drove her in-laws insane, and Arthur and Maeve Gallagher leapt over the upstairs railing to their deaths. When their bodies were found, their faces were all twisted up
, like they’d been scared to death.”

  “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.” Addie slid onto one of the three counter stools, took a sip of her coffee, and shivered. The vision she’d seen at the top of the staircase and the memory of the cold air wrapping around her legs replayed in her mind. “You’ve read too many mystery thrillers.” She set her cup down. “Didn’t you tell me once that Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca was your favorite novel of all time?” Her brow rose as she looked up at a pale-faced Paige.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Aha.” Addie took a sip of her coffee. “You just proved my point. The power of suggestion.”

  “No, but—”

  Addie’s arched brow couldn’t mask her involuntary eye roll.

  Paige let out an exasperated breath and began retrieving books from the pile left on the floor by a chair, banging them noisily onto the shelves of the book trolley.

  Addie chuckled to herself and took another sip from her steaming cup. “By the way, I found some great books that I’m going to bid on at the auction tomorrow. I’ll probably be there most of the day. I’m also going in early to make sure Blake doesn’t need any help finishing the setup.” The only response was the creak of the trolley wheels. “How did you make out with that crate of consignment books? Were there many of those light, romance novels we need?” There was still no answer, and the trolley had gone silent.

  Addie rose from the counter and made her way around the first row of bookshelves. No Paige. She skirted her way to the next shelving unit, and there was still no sign of her assistant. When she finally came to the last row along the wall shelves, there she was sitting on the floor, a book opened in her lap. “What are you doing?”

  “Research.” Paige blinked up at her.

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  Paige closed the book and struggled to her feet.

  “That’s a copy of June Winslow’s The Ghosts and Mysteries of Greyborne Harbor, isn’t it?”

  Paige placed it back on an upper shelf.

  “Why are you researching local pirate legends?”

  “I wasn’t. I was hoping it mentioned something about Hill Road House.”

  “You should have just asked me. I read that one for the book club, many times over, and know for a fact that there’s no mention of Serena’s tale in it.”

  “Well, there should be.” Paige righted the books on the cart. “There has to be something in one of these books to prove to you what Serena and half the town say is true.”

  “You want actual proof of ghosts?” Addie shook her head. “Come on, Paige, you know as well as I that people write books all the time trying to prove the existence of ghosts, but no one can confirm it. I think it’s highly unlikely you’ll find what you’re looking for in any of these.” Addie gestured to the bookshelves. “It’s just not scientific. It’s all fiction.”

  “Just promise me you won’t go back there again.”

  “Why are you and Serena making such a big deal about this? I’m going to be attending an auction—that’s all. It has the books we need. In fact, I saw a few outstanding copies of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility and her Pride and Prejudice, and an early edition of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights that’s to die for.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t.” Paige shoved the cart past Addie.

  “Paige, what’s going on with you and Serena? This is so out of character.”

  “We just know you, and we’re worried.” She sniffed. “If anything were to happen to you”—a tear trickled down her pale cheek—“I . . . I wouldn’t be able to—” The tears turned into a full-out sob. “You’re like family to me. More than any of my older sisters are and . . .”

  “Oh, Paige.” Addie’s chest tightened with the same force that her arms did as they wrapped around the girl. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll be fine. No ghosts are going to hurt me, I promise.”

  “But what if they do? We both know you, and that it won’t take long until you start investigating those old mysterious deaths just for fun. Because that’s what you like to do. Then Kathleen Gallagher’s ghost is going to get all riled up and . . . and . . . and who knows what. But there’s going to be trouble. There always is.”

  “From the research I did last night after Serena told me the tale, I’m pretty certain the police did their due diligence when they investigated the three deaths back in 1949. I’m not about to start poking my nose into cases that were closed years ago.”

  “Hmm, we’ll see,” Paige said, shaking her head as she shoved the book trolley around the end of the row.

  * * *

  Later that evening at home, Addie was subjected to the same utter nonsense—at least it was in her mind— of an extended version of the same warning courtesy of Serena, who dropped in for a routine evening chat. After an hour of sensing the same frustration that parents must have with trying to rationalize with a two-year-old, Addie feigned exhaustion brought on by her busy day and showed Serena out. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against its smooth mahogany finish and heaved out a deep breath.

  It was times like this that Addie second-guessed her decision last year to offer the empty two-bedroom apartment above her garage to Serena and her fiancé, Zach Ludlow. Serena swore to her at the time there wouldn’t be an issue with uninvited visits but . . . who was Serena kidding. It certainly wasn’t Addie, and it had turned out just as she suspected it would. Especially since Zach worked most evenings at the Grey Gull Inn as a waiter while he finished his internship with Dr. Lee at the naturopathic clinic down on the boardwalk. Although Addie loved her friend dearly, there were times, like tonight, that the three-car-garage driveway just wasn’t wide enough for her liking.

  “Now, that was exhausting.” Addie flipped her home security alarm to armed and headed to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and heat up some leftovers before she curled up on the sofa with her laptop for an evening of research. She wanted to find out the estimated current values of the Austen and Bronte books she’d seen today. If she didn’t have her top bid already in mind when she attended the auction, she knew herself well enough that she could easily get carried away and end up paying too much, given how badly she wanted them.

  * * *

  At 8 a.m. the following morning, Addie parked her Mini behind a black SUV with vanity plates that read ACSNER and laughed. Blake was already here. But there was no sign of Kalea’s Lexus, and Addie hadn’t heard anything from her yet this morning. She was certain the plan had been to meet before the auction and attend it together. On the other hand, it wouldn’t surprise her if her cousin was simply avoiding the possibility of chipping a manicured nail by actually participating in manual labor and would show up just in time for the auction to start.

  Addie puddle-jumped to the front gate. The rain shower they’d had last evening didn’t last long, but by the look of the lake-sized puddles she had to maneuver around, the storm had carried a fair bit of moisture. When she reached the gate she winced as she pushed it open. Silence. There was no cheeky objection to her entry today. She looked up at the towering chimneys on Hill Road House, surrounded by the early-morning crystal-blue skies. She smiled and marched up the pathway that was now framed on either side by a freshly mowed lawn.

  Addie noted the addition of a sign pointing to the rear of the house, announcing the direction of the weekend yard sale. Blake’s crew had been busy this morning, and she half hoped the inside was equally as prepared. Between the flashing images of whatever it was she’d seen at the top of the stairway intertwined with the unsettling words of warning from Serena and Paige, she had slept little and fretfully. The last thing she wanted to do was set up roomfuls of folding chairs, but a promise was a promise, and she mustered her inner depths for a smile she knew lurked somewhere in there.

  The entry hall spilled over with the delightful scents of fresh-cut flowers. Two tall lamps, positioned on either end of a long, marble-topped table on the sidewall, shed a comforting light that h
ad been absent the day before. The whole atmosphere of the house had changed. It felt warm and alive. She glanced to the top stair landing, apparition free, and smiled at the recollection of her previous day’s foolishness.

  She spotted a man carrying folding chairs under both his arms, heading down the corridor toward the back of the house, and inwardly groaned. Then Blake’s voice cracked from the study behind her, and a young woman darted out—her face as white as a sheet as she sprinted past Addie into the parlor across the hall.

  “I don’t care what you think you saw!” Blake cried out, close on the woman’s heels. “You can’t go around telling people. It’ll scare off—” At the sight of Addie, he stopped, his face lighting up.

  “Good morning, my dear.” He lightly kissed her cheek.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. A few of the staff have reported seeing things in the hallways and at the top of the stairs. I think it’s just a combination of being overtired and letting their nerves get the best of them. You know they hear so many of the rumors about the house around town.”

  “Yes, the power of suggestion can be a strong one.” Addie’s gaze flicked toward the second floor, a shiver snaking across her shoulders.

  “Are you ready to tackle some folding chairs?”

  “That’s what I’m here for. Any help you need, just point me in that direction.”

  “I was only teasing about the chairs. I think—” His forehead furrowed at the sound of crashing chairs, “I hope my staff has most of that under control now.”

  “I’m here. At least let me help you with something.”

  “Well.” He stroked his chin and scanned the foyer. “There are always those little last-minute details to look after.”

  “Anything, just tell me what to do.”

  “Okay, if you’re willing, why don’t you do an inspection of the dining room and kitchen? I’ll do the same in the study and living room, and then we can meet up at the library to see how Charlotte and Robert are making out in there. She insisted on setting that room up herself and said they had everything arranged just so. To quote her exact words—I don’t want your minions messing with my system.”