by Dee Lloyd
"That's some leap, Helen. Surely, having you working for her mother's husband half a continent away from her place of birth is too much of a coincidence."
"My working for your dad and then for you is one of her arguments that she's right. My uncle, who has lived in Miami for years, recommended me for the job at Schofield's. He's also the lawyer who checked out the legalities of Lizzie's adoption for them."
Now that made some sense. It wasn't a coincidence. It was a connection that could happen.
Helen was still talking. "She's been fascinated with you ever since. She calls me all the time to get the latest news on you. She's obsessed almost. But much too shy to approach you. She really is a sweet girl, you know. Full of enthusiasms but basically insecure. Luckily, Joel understands her."
"Helen, this is too strange."
"That's what I think. But Betsy insists that Laila is an unusual name. And the age is right. Once Lizzie got up there, she met your aunt who recognized her."
"But she doesn't look anything like Laila," Kit objected. "How could Elsa have recognized her?"
"She said Lizzie looked exactly like her father when he was young."
She looked like Raoul? Dear Heaven! She did!
"Oh, Helen. I wonder if it could be true. I have to think about this."
"I have to go now, Kit. I'll call you when I get home next week." And she rang off. Kit was left staring at the receiver.
Bart took it from her hand and hung it up.
"She does look like Raoul," she said slowly. "And she wanted to talk to me a few days ago but I avoided her because I thought she wanted to make another pitch for the kiddieland."
"You don't want to believe it, but if she is your sister, she's probably behind the shootings."
"You're right, but I'm going to call her."
"She's been so heavily tranquilized since Elsa was killed that I don't think you could have much of a conversation."
Kit spent a disturbed night. Even Bart's presence could not distract her from the intriguing and terrifying possibility that Betsy...or Lizzie...was her sister. And the question that if she was, could that highly emotional, timid woman be capable of plotting her murder?
Chapter Thirteen
Betsy was on the telephone in Johanna's office when Kit searched her out. She looked older than her forty-two years but she seemed more alert than she had at the cemetery the previous afternoon. The dark circles under her dark eyes made her look even more like Raoul's specter. Kit wondered why she hadn't seen the resemblance before.
"The student summer help were supposed to arrive on Saturday. I'm calling to put them off for a week. Neither Johanna nor I can imagine dealing with them right now," Betsy said as she replaced the receiver.
Kit was bursting with questions. Are you my sister? Why didn't you contact me? And why would you want to kill me? There was no way to ease into this. She decided to come right out with it.
"I talked to Helen last night." Betsy leapt to her feet. Her dark eyes widened at the mention of her adopted sister's name. "She says you think we could be sisters."
Betsy's lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
"Elsa was sure we are. Oh, Kit, I wanted so badly to talk to you. But Joel and Elsa insisted I wait." She was obviously trying to regain her composure. "And you were always busy."
Kit wanted to keep her distance, but years of wishing she had a sister pushed her toward the older woman. Tears were flowing down her face when she opened her arms. Betsy rushed to hug her.
Nothing would ever convince Kit that this woman wanted her dead.
They clung together for a moment that was unbelievably moving, yet awkward too. When they broke apart, they sat on the wooden chairs in front of Johanna's desk and stared silently at each other.
"You have Raoul's eyes. And his hair," Kit said.
"I wish I could have met him. And Laila too, of course." Betsy dabbed at her eyes. "I swear. I'm not going to cry any more."
"How long have you known about being Laila's child?" Kit asked.
"Mom told me in May that my birth mother's first name was Laila and she was from Muskoka. I got a job up here and met Elsa in September just before Joel and I were married. She believed I was her niece. Darn!" She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "I said I wasn't going to cry any more."
"I wish you had contacted me then," Kit said.
"Elsa said you'd figure out a way to keep me from inheriting some of Laila's money and Joel wanted me to wait until his lawyer had a suit ready to file. They couldn't understand that what I wanted most was to get to know my family." She flashed her a smile that was pure Raoul. "I wouldn't object to having money, but that isn't the reason I came looking for Laila's family."
Betsy seemed sincere. However, Kit couldn't forget Ronald's apparent sincerity.
"Elsa tried to tell me you cheated me out of my share. But you had no idea I existed, did you?"
"Elsa wasn't entirely rational." She was sure Betsy wasn't ready to hear that Elsa had killed their mother and her father. "If I'd known, I would have had my lawyers arrange to treat you fairly."
"Something else. Oh, dear." Betsy frowned. "I might as well tell you. Elsa's will is being read tomorrow anyway. She made me her heir. She had some idea she was getting back at Laila by not mentioning you in her will. I don't want you to be disappointed."
"I really hadn't thought about it." And she hadn't. But the fact that Elsa's estate would have been so much bigger had Kit died first was something to think about.
All in all, nothing had changed. She felt Betsy was not involved in the attempts on her life. She desperately wanted be right about her newfound sister but she didn't have a lot of confidence in her own ability to read character.
The next few days were less than pleasant. Kit knew she was being difficult, but Bart was being stubborn, too. Her conversation with Betsy on Thursday morning had sparked a major disagreement. Bart insisted Betsy was the most likely suspect. If Kit had been killed before Elsa's death, Betsy had the most to gain. That motive was gone but she might not understand that Kit was unlikely to fight her in her attempt to get some portion of Laila's estate. To put it simply, he thought she was greedy and he didn't trust her.
Kit knew his reasoning made sense but she was torn between wishing Betsy to be the sister she wanted and knowing that she probably wasn't. Her internal struggle made her dig in her heels all the more. Then Bart had the nerve to forbid her to be alone with her sister. To forbid her!
If she were honest with herself, she'd admit she was being unreasonable. She hated the distance that was growing between them and knew she was responsible for putting it there. He hadn't called her Brat in days. That's because she was behaving like one. Today after they got back from the Elmhurst property, she would apologize. Maybe she'd do it sooner than that.
* * *
Bart slammed down the phone. Joel had reported his .22 caliber hunting pistol stolen two weeks before the shooting attempt in Toronto. Well, if he was their shooter the .22 was probably at the bottom of Spirit Lake now.
He was becoming more and more frustrated. It had been six days since Elsa's killing and he was no closer to finding the person responsible.
Bret's interviews in Florida turned up the fact that Gunther Roth had been alone in his lab at all three important times. But he had no obvious contacts with the kind of people who would know a killer for hire. They were still looking into that.
The Betsy and Joel combination looked most likely but he had nothing but a motive. If he could only prove opportunity.
And he was still digging into Joel's alibi for Elsa's shooting even though it still seemed solid. Because the tournament had drawn golfers from all over Central Ontario, running down the three men who made up the rest of Joel's foursome was taking time. Bart had talked to Joel's longtime golf buddy from Bracebridge and the player from Gravenhurst, but he hadn't yet interviewed the golfer from North Bay. He was expected to be in town this morning, however.
<
br /> The golfers had waited out the rain delay in the clubhouse bar. They agreed that Joel had gone home to change but hadn't been gone long. "He sure didn't have time to wander around the back roads shooting people," one of them insisted. But Bart had a gut feeling Joel was his man. Maybe Jimmy Soles from North Bay would have a different perspective.
Joel was still trying to sell Kit the land for a golf course. He'd called several times to arrange a time to have her walk the property with him. She had finally given in and agreed to do it this morning. Bart didn't like her being anywhere near Joel but at least he would be with her. Because the road on the lodge side ended at the river that led into Lake of Bays, they were going to go over by canoe rather than drive all the way around the lake on the other side.
Then this chance to talk to Jimmy Soles had come up last night. He'd had to arrange for Mike to take his place or start another argument with Kit. God, she was quick to explode lately! They couldn't seem to agree on anything. And they didn't seem to be able to talk about anything.
Even after yesterday morning's meeting with the lawyer, she hadn't wanted to talk to him. She had wanted him with her for the reading of the will though. As expected, Elsa had named Elizabeth Anne Warner as her heir. That meant Betsy now owned all of Elsa's possessions including her twenty percent of the Spirit Lake resort. Elsa had written a nice note to Betsy saying she was happy she'd discovered such a lovely niece--one who didn't seem to have inherited any of her mother's traits and only the endearing ones of her father. He could tell Kit was hurt but she hadn't said a word about the indirect slur.
The coolness between them was driving him nuts.
Well, it was almost time to go if he was going to have a chance to talk to Soles before he teed off.
He got up from the desk to see Kit standing quietly in the doorway looking at him. Something in her eyes told him she hadn't come to pick a fight this morning. Thank God!
She met him halfway and slipped her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry to have been such a bitch," she said, looking up at him. She meant it.
"Not a bitch," he said, bending his head to kiss her. It wasn't a passionate kiss but it sure made him feel better. "More like a brat."
She grinned and stepped aside while he locked the door and reset the security alarm.
"I got an email from Mike this morning," he told her as they walked along. "He said the paperwork on Raoul is taking time but his remains will be released for burial by Sunday at the latest. He and Johanna decided to set the interment for Monday."
"It's kind of a relief that the ghosts haven't appeared again," she said. "We haven't finished the task they gave us."
"It's almost finished," he said, somehow doubting they'd seen the last of them.
Johanna was waiting at the door when they arrived.
"Mike's morning run is taking a little longer than usual," she said. "He makes it a two in one activity by checking at the store and coming back. Sometimes it takes a bit longer, but he should be back any minute."
"See you later then." Bart dropped a kiss on the tip of Kit's nose and whispered, "Later."
Bart didn't question why he was so determined to break Joel Warner's alibi. He simply knew that it was important. That kind of certainty usually paid off. Joel might not be the marksman but his location at the time of Elsa's killing would tell him something he needed to know.
Something in Jimmy Soles's statement changed the solid picture the other two golfers had painted. According to them, they'd all waited out the rain delay in the clubhouse. But Jimmy said, when Bart asked whether Joel was with them, "Oh, Warner was there. He went home to change, then came back. I thought at the time his clothes were very wet for somebody who'd just changed them, then waited out the heavy rain in a car."
That was the first he'd heard that Joel hadn't been with the others in the clubhouse most of the time.
And Kit and Mike were meeting Joel this morning in an isolated location.
Bart thanked Soles for his help and leapt into the SUV. He tried to reach the lodge on his cell phone but found he was in one of those dead zones that the mineral content of the rock in the area caused from time to time. When he did get the lodge phone, the only person available to answer was Dan, who was on elevator security that day.
"Nope, Kit and Mike aren't back yet. They never left. I guess you didn't hear Mike got hit by a car this morning?" Dan said.
"Is he all right?"
"Broken leg and a slight concussion is what I was told. Betsy took Johanna to the hospital."
"Then where's Kit?" Bart held his breath.
"I took a carafe of coffee up to her in the tower suite about fifteen minutes ago."
Bart used most of the horses under the hood of the SUV getting to the lodge. Every instinct he had was on red alert. Something was wrong. In spite of Dan's assurances, Kit was in danger.
There was a white van parked in front of the main doors of the lodge when he arrived. Ever since he'd received the first three license plate numbers of the Toronto shooter, he'd automatically checked the plates of any light colored van.
He hurried by this one, did a double take, then ran back to check the plate again--655. The three numbers he'd been looking for!
Betsy was hanging up her jacket when he reached the lobby.
"Whose van is that out front?" he asked.
"Mine," she replied. "Why?"
Joel was the shooter. "Where's Kit?" he demanded.
"In the library, I think."
He brushed by Dan who was still at his post at the base of the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. He burst into the suite calling Kit's name. The suite was empty. But the shower was running and an untouched carafe of coffee sat on the table. He knew his crazy woman had gone alone to meet her killer. Fifteen minutes ago, Dan said. Bart almost flew back down the stairs.
"Come with me, Dan," he shouted as he dashed out the back door. "I'm going to need a hand launching one of those beached runabouts. I hope to Hell the gas cans are full."
His heart was pounding harder and louder than their running feet as they headed for the beach.
"Don't let Betsy out of your sight, Dan," he said when they finally had the boat in the water and he pulled away from the dock.
* * *
Much earlier...
Johanna had been gone about an hour and Kit was so frustrated she was pacing back and forth across the oriental carpets of the tower suite. Obediently, she had gone to the library and taken down one of her all time favorite fantasies from the shelf. She'd sat in one of the cushioned bay windows to read but even The Lord of the Rings couldn't hold her interest. She was giving up even trying to read when Johanna called from the hospital. Mike had a broken leg and a mild concussion. They were going to keep him for observation for a while. It just proved how a person couldn't take precautions against everything. What rotten luck to have a drunk driver to veer into him!
Lord, she was tired of being cooped up. How much longer was this going to go on? The main suspects were under surveillance. Bret had men keeping an eye on Gunther in case he turned homicidal. Betsy was at the hospital with Johanna.
She was supposed to be considering a real estate deal right now. Not hiding in the tower. She didn't have Joel's cell phone number to tell him she was canceling their appointment and she really didn't want to alienate her newly discovered brother-in-law.
She could take one of the kayaks and head over there on her own. She was tired of cowering in a corner while everyone protected her. It's not as if she didn't know exactly where she was headed. She and Bart had spotted the inlet when they were out in the Flying Junior.
At the moment, Dan was her appointed keeper, but she could solve that problem. She unsnapped the FRS from her belt where Bart insisted she wear it at all times.
"Dan," she said to his prompt response, "would you mind bringing a carafe of coffee up to me in the tower suite? If I'm in the shower, just leave it on the table."
She turned on the shower and cl
osed the bathroom door. Knowing Dan would come up in the elevator, she ran down the stairs and out the back door to the beach. She ignored the canoe which had been left out for her and Mike and dragged one of the kayaks into the water. She'd make better speed in a kayak. She'd explain to Joel about Mike's accident and why she couldn't keep her appointment with him today. She'd be careful. She wouldn't even set foot on shore.
The lake was strangely still and silent. The surface was so smooth she could see the clear reflection of a few little clouds in the calm sunlit waters. The only sounds were the faint hiss of the hull sliding over the surface and of her blades dipping into the water. She set up a regular rhythm with the two-bladed paddle that set the kayak skimming swiftly toward the mists that hovered around what she thought of as Laila's island.
She wondered for a moment why the mists were still heavy on the water when the sun was getting so high in the sky. The mists reminded her of the first morning she'd seen Laila's ghost.
"I'm going to miss you, Laila," she whispered and thought she heard an echo whisper back, "...miss you..."
The mist devils seemed to be separating as she neared the island. When she rounded the point, they were far enough apart that she could see Joel standing on a little dock on the mainland. When he caught sight of her, he beckoned.
"I was afraid you'd changed your mind," he called as she drew near. "Wasn't Mike coming with you?"
She stopped a few feet away from the dock where Joel was untying a rope at the bow of a flat-bottomed rowboat.
"Mike was hit by a car. He's in hospital with broken leg and a concussion."
"That's too bad," Joel said, straightening up.
"Well, are you ready to check out the property?" His salesman's smile was wide and ingenuous but it didn't reach his cold eyes. "I thought we might take a pass along the waterfront first. Sorry. The boat's not very classy but it will get us in where we need to go. It's the one I use for duck hunting. The first water hole will be over there," he pointed to the inlet she and Bart had noticed. "The rough is pretty dense along the edge. That's why you need to see it from the water."