“Not really, but think about it. By all evidence we have and the police, too, this simply looks like a poor woman suffered an untimely heart attack, and, by coincidence, some very valuable books were stolen. My gut does tell me that the two are connected, and Charlotte’s death wasn’t a natural event.”
“Addie.” Simon shook his head. “As I’ve said before, there’s no indication that she was intentionally killed. So far, I haven’t been able to find any evidence of poisoning, trauma, injection. Her blood work is normal except for an elevated adrenaline level. There is no suggestion of foul—”
“You said she had a high adrenaline level?” Addie read over the notes on the board. “The tipped-over teacup.”
“Why would that have anything to do with her adrenaline level? The tea was a regular common blend, probably Earl Grey.”
“No, I don’t mean she was poisoned, but I’ve been trying to figure something out regarding the tipped-over teacup. The contents had obviously dripped down the side of the desk onto the book below it. Charlotte must have been working on that book and the other one I found on the floor when she suffered her heart attack. The chair was facing the fireplace, and the book was under the desk with the tea stain on the cover not under the book.”
“She would have had to drop the books first, knocked the teacup over, spilling the tea on the book, and then turn to face the fireplace. That doesn’t make sense if she were having a heart attack. Why would she—”
“Because whoever was hiding in the fireplace chamber. waiting for her to leave for the night, must have decided to make his or her move when it was going on three a.m. and she was still working.”
“She heard a noise behind her . . .”
“The hidden door opening.” Addie snapped her fingers.
“And jumped, dropping the books and knocking the cup over when she spun around in the chair to see what the noise was, and—”
“Boom!” Addie slapped her hands together. “Her heart gave out. My gut tells me she was murdered, and it’s the perfect murder, isn’t it?”
“But the autopsy—”
“I know what it shows, but think about it. When we look at all the facts there are two different versions, and both are completely plausible.” Simon’s brow furrowed, showing his confusion. “One is that she was actually killed by a ghost. The other is it was made to look like a ghost committed the murder.”
“You’re saying we’re looking for a hundred-year-old murderer?”
“Or someone with the knowledge of what took place in this house seventy-five years ago.” She tapped the chalk stick in her palm. “The problem is to prove which version is true.”
“Come on, Addie, you can’t be serious. There is no such thing as ghosts, so it’s the latter.”
“Are you sure? Strange things can and do happen. Just ask poor Paige and her run-in with a poltergeist.”
“I hope you’re joking. You were the one that thought Serena and Paige and half the town were mad for believing the tall tale. Now look at you.”
“But it does get in your head, doesn’t it? I just can’t forget the look in Charlotte’s eyes when I found her, and then the look on Paige’s face when I found her.” Addie hugged her arms across her chest. “I need to get back into that house tomorrow and have another look. I know logically there is no such thing as ghosts. So that means someone has tried hard to make it look like there is. There has to be another clue we’re missing that will prove it. Otherwise, we’re back to option number one.”
“Well, none of that’s not going to happen tomorrow.”
“Why? The yard sale is on another day. Besides, we didn’t pick up my lamp on our way out. It’s a perfect cover for dropping in on Blake again and getting access to the house.”
He lifted her chin, a grin on his lips. “Addie, did you accidentally on purpose leave the lamp there to give you an excuse to go back tomorrow?”
“I didn’t think it would fit into your car.” She couldn’t keep a poker face around him and surrendered to a rather cheeky grin.
“You’re probably right about that, but you’re forgetting one important thing: We made plans last week with Serena and Zach for tomorrow.”
“I forgot. We’re meeting them for lunch, then going on that tour of the new dock and information center for the cruise line.”
“Exactly, and there is no way you’re going to be able to convince Serena to take a walk through a house she’s terrified of. I’m surprised she even went to the sale with you today.”
“It did take some convincing, and I did have to promise her she wouldn’t have to go in.”
“There, you see? The urgency of investigating is gone now since the charges against you have been dropped. Now you’re only investigating because you’re like—”
“A dog with a bone, I know.” Addie smiled. “Okay, it won’t hurt to take a day off. I want to stop in and check on Paige before we go tomorrow, anyway.”
“Good plan. I think then that I’ll go into the lab for awhile in the morning.”
“I thought you were off all weekend.”
“I am, but you got me thinking, and there’s something I want to check out.”
“See, it’s contagious.”
He blinked owlishly.
“The sleuthing bug. You can’t let it go any more than I can. Someone is dead, and some valuable books and antiques have gone missing. You want as badly as I do to figure it all out.”
“My reasons are a bit different than yours, though.”
“How so?”
“Because now I’m afraid I’ve missed something in the autopsy. You’re right. It’s too much of a coincidence that Charlotte died and the books were stolen from the locked library at the same time.”
“And what?”
“And . . . truth be told, Ryley Brookes got under my skin, too, when we were meeting with the DA. I would like nothing better than to solve this whole thing just to prove to her how far off base she’s been.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Unless, of course, your suspicions are correct and she’s behind this”—his head shot up—“and then we can nail her on it!”
“Simon, you shock me.” She gave a shaky smile and lost herself for a moment in his sea-blue eyes. “Revenge like that should be my motive.”
“Not when it involves the woman I love.”
Did I hear him right? Did he just say he loves me? She struggled to form the words back, her tongue tied with shock and pleasure. His face fell, and she knew she was too late to utter the words back to him. The special moment was lost. He was her friend, her person, her confidant, her safety net. But love?
“Too soon?” An awkward smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Anyway, getting back to the case—”
Addie clasped his shirt collar and in one, swift movement urged him closer. He pulled her into his arms. His lips sought out her mouth. Her breath quickened as he drew her nearer, his lips hard yet soft against hers. Even though they had kissed before, for Addie this moment seemed like the first time.
Chapter 26
It was a perfect summer morning made even better by the fact that Paige was being discharged later today. Her doctor prescribed a few days off work and rest, but other than that she was fit to go.
Addie prepared to make some adjustments to accommodate Paige’s absence. Daily sales in the shop had skyrocketed last year, and Paige’s part-time status had been increased to full-time with benefits. Perhaps it was time to hire one more person to fill in part-time and help Paige pick up the slack when Addie was off on her book-buying—or sleuthing—adventures.
Addie danced a little jig in the driver’s seat of her car at the realization that her shop had been a success, especially given the bumpy ride she’d endured when she was first opened. Back then she thought she’d be closing any day and worried about how she was going to pay Paige with the meager amount of money coming through the doors. Her heart pounded, knowing how proud her father would have been. She would never forget his words of wisdom after Dav
id’s death: “I didn’t raise a quitter. Take your time to mourn, and then adjust your sails and set a new course.” Well, Dad, I did it. I didn’t quit. Look at me now.
She parked on one of the side streets off Marine Drive, the road running parallel to the seawall. This was the area of town where she and Serena spent many a Sunday. Both their shops were closed for the day, and they loved to check out the unique souvenir, antique shops, and vintage clothing stores in the area, and, of course, eat lunch at one of the quaint restaurants. She headed for their favorite fish-n-chips eatery. Simon was running late and said he’d meet up with them as soon as he could get away. Serena and Zach were no doubt already there and champing at the bit to get the day started. When she checked the time on her phone, she paused. There was a missed call from a number she didn’t recognize, and a voice message.
“Hi, Addie. It’s Kalea.”
Addie sucked in a small gasp and pressed the phone to her ear.
“I know you must be furious with me for ditching you and disappearing like I did.” Her voice cracked. “I only wanted to say I’m sorry”—sniffle—“but it couldn’t be helped. I was forced to leave. There was no option. I’m okay and will call back and explain later. Bye.”
“What’s the matter?” Simon scanned her face. She had been so intent on the message she hadn’t even noticed him walk up to her.
“It’s Kalea. She left a message. Listen to this.”
“I think,” Simon said, after listening to the message, “we can write number one beside Kalea’s name on your list of suspects.”
“Sounds like it. She was forced to leave? I need to find out more about her boss, the antique collector. Maybe he forced her to steal the books, or he was actually in town and did it, and then ended up killing Charlotte in the meantime.”
“Would he have knowledge about the hidden chamber?”
“Who knows? Maybe he’s not a stranger to Greyborne Harbor. After all, she said they lived in Cape Cod. He might know about Hill Road House.”
“That’s a lot of speculation.” Simon placed his hand on the small of her back, ushering her through the door of the restaurant where they were greeted by Serena and Zach.
* * *
Addie pushed her half-eaten seafood salad away. It was no use. She couldn’t stay focused on the spirited conversation around her. The concern for her cousin played heavily on her mind. As though reading her thoughts, Simon asked for the check, paid the bill, and hurried the little group out into the bright afternoon sunshine. His fingers laced through hers, and the four of them walked along the seawall in the direction of the new pier and information center built on the rocky outcrop where the old lighthouse stood.
It only was a week since they’d been down here. At the time, there was a hum heavy in the air with the construction crews putting the final touches on the glass visitor’s center. Today, there was still a buzz, but it was interested locals flocking to the site for a peek at what the future held in store for their sleepy little town.
If the cruise line information and shore excursion itineraries were any indication, harbor residents’ summers were to be nothing like they’d ever experienced before. The local festivals and annual summer sailing regatta would be dwarfed by the ships’ eager tourists inundating the area every Tuesday for the next five months. Tourists who were ready and willing to see what the little town had to offer in the way of dining experiences, culture, and local history.
Greyborne Harbor locals were pulling out all the stops to remain competitive with the adventures that lay just thirty minutes up the coastal highway in Salem, a longtime favorite shore excursion for this particular shipping line’s clients. Addie wondered if Art was on the right track with his idea to market Hill Road House as a major tourist destination.
* * *
Hot and tired of being jostled around by the hordes of curious onlookers in the center, Addie hunted out some peace. Through the window, she spotted an ice cream truck in the parking lot. Grabbing Simon’s hand, she tugged him along behind her as she zigzagged her way through the crowd. Her heart sank at the long line up at the take-out window, but at least she was back in the fresh sea air and sunshine.
As they waited their turn, Addie’s gaze checked out the parking lot that a small carnival had commandeered. Judging by the number of visitors waiting for rides and buying cotton candy, it meant the amount of people attending the Hill Road House yard sale would be few and not enough to help Blake clear out the rest of the merchandise. Her heart went out to him. Right from the start his auction had its challenges, and had not only hurt him financially, but with the thefts and Charlotte’s untimely demise, his reputation was also at stake.
When they reached the front of the line, Simon stepped up to place their orders. As she leaned in to tell him what flavor she wanted, a familiar form caught her attention. Over on the seawall overlooking the lighthouse, Philip Atkinson sat, licking the melting ice cream from around the top of his waffle cone. Addie muttered, “I’ll have a double-chocolate fudge,” and skirted around Simon.
She made a direct line toward the man she least wanted to talk to on an otherwise pleasant Sunday afternoon. But they had unfinished business, and she needed to find out if his uncanny awareness of the publisher’s reproductions in her shop was due to his involvement in the crime or a lucky guess.
Addie plopped down on the top of the stone ledge and closed her eyes, revelling in the smell of fresh sea air and the sun on her face. If she’d been born a cat, there’s no doubt she’d be purring. Not only because of the rays of sunshine beating down on her, but also because of the uncomfortable shifting of the rat seated beside her on the wall. She toyed with the idea of playing with her prey for a few minutes before striking, but Simon would be along at any moment, and she couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.
“It’s a glorious day, isn’t it, Philip? I imagine you don’t get many like this in Dublin.” There was no answer from the man seated to her right as he continued to lick the drippings from his cone. “I am surprised to see you here today. I was under the impression that the VIP preinaugural docking this week embarked yesterday and left port?”
“I had a few loose ends to tie up.” He went back to licking his cone.
“Not taking in the final day of the yard sale?”
“Blake wasn’t serving ice cream.”
“I see.” She shifted on the stone ledge. “Did you take in the sale this morning, or are you one of those that show up at the end of the day to haggle for the lowest price possible?”
“There’s not too much wiggle room on what I’m looking for.” He pierced her with a glare.
“Whatever are you talking about?” Addie feigned innocence. “Blake is always open to any reasonable bid.”
Philip jumped off the ledge and tossed the remainder of his cone into a trash bin. “Time to head back to the sale, as there are a few remaining items that my purchaser has expressed interest in acquiring.”
“You do know the book sale won’t be held now until next month in Boston?”
“There are many priceless items still to be found in the estate’s collection.”
“Really? I was under the impression that the higher-valued items went at auction and only the lesser-valued merchandise was being presented at the public yard sales.”
“It does make one question the quality of the McAdams appraisals, doesn’t it?” He winked and sauntered off.
“Addie, here.” Simon handed her a double-chocolate-fudge cone. “And I suggest you close your mouth before you catch a fly.”
“Did you just hear what Philip said?”
“Can’t say as I did,” Simon said, making himself comfortable on the spot that Philip had just vacated. “I was too focused on getting this across the hot pavement before I was wearing both yours and mine.”
“He just implied that Charlotte’s appraisals might not have been accurate.”
“Well, you, as an appraiser yourself, must know that there is no guarante
e of an item’s—in your case, book’s—value. It’s like a house. It’s only worth what someone is willing to pay for it.”
“I know that, but what if Charlotte was hiding the true appraisal worth of certain items?”
“For what purpose?” He licked a drip from the top of his cone.
“So that she could send in a shell bidder who would pay the lower price, and then she could turn around and sell at the actual higher-valued price.”
“You think she was scamming Blake?”
“It’s one theory we hadn’t thought about, and I saw firsthand that there was no love lost between him and Charlotte.”
“Do you think Blake knew or caught on?”
“Maybe he suspected.” Her tongue lapped up a drip from the bottom of her ice cream scoop. “After all, she was very private with her catalogue and inventory lists. She wouldn’t even allow Robert to work on her computer.”
“Perhaps Blake did manage to see the true appraisals and discovered she was trying to cheat him?”
“He might have. He did say to me that he learned from the best, my father. It would stand to reason that over the years he had made some other contacts that he could turn to who would give him an honest appraisal of some of the more questionable items he had up for auction.”
“We did see that altercation between him and Charlotte’s brother. I bet Blake suspects them both of trying to scam him, and that’s the real reason he’s not paying the appraisal bill.”
“I don’t know, but as much as I hate to think it, Blake’s name just moved up on the murderer list.”
Simon nibbled drips of ice cream from his finger.
“Look,” Addie said, “I know we planned to spend the afternoon down here enjoying the shops along Marine Drive, but—”
“You want to go back to Hill Road House and see if you can learn anything else.”
Addie beamed a winning smile. “Yes. Philip was heading back there now, and I want to see if I can figure out what he’s up to, and if he’s involved with all this.”
“Serena and Zach are in line for ice cream now. We’d better let them know our new plan.”
Proof of Murder Page 21