Secret Sisters

  “Given your history, that’s perfectly understandable.” Daphne crouched to look under the bed. She grimaced at whatever she saw. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think Jack Rayner is interested in your hotels.”

  “No, I’ll give him that.” Madeline opened a camera box and looked at the ancient device inside. “But there is still the problem of my issues.”

  “Did you ever get therapy to talk about those issues?”

  “No. There didn’t seem to be much point in going to a professional counselor. I knew the source of my problems and I also knew that I could never talk about it.”

  “The old family-secret thing.”

  Madeline put down the box and surveyed the cluttered room. “And now, for some reason, it looks like Tom Lomax may have decided to reveal that secret.”

  “Not necessarily.” Daphne got to her feet. “What if he took the briefcase out of the wall because he was afraid that someone had discovered where it was? Maybe he intended to hide it somewhere else for safekeeping.”

  Madeline thought about it. “I suppose that’s possible. Tom told me that he had failed. But I think he was hallucinating at the end.”

  Daphne circled the bed and hugged her tightly. “From what you’ve told me, you were nearly killed the other day. And all because of that damned briefcase.”

  “It’s not just a damned briefcase. I hate to bring up the subject, but there is also the little matter of a dead body buried under the gazebo.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jack surveyed the long, gloom-filled maintenance building. “This looks like the graveyard where old, worn-out tools and equipment come to die.”

  The interior of the wooden building was dimly illuminated by the weak daylight slanting through grimy windows. The atmosphere was thick with the odor that was unique to old garages—the unmistakable reek of gasoline, lubricants, and solvents.

  The far end of the structure was cluttered with gardening supplies and broken appliances. He and Abe were standing on the opposite side, the portion of the building that had once served as a workshop and garage.

  There was an old-fashioned lube pit sunk into the concrete floor. In years past it would have been used to perform oil changes on the hotel’s vehicles. But now several ancient mattresses and a lot of yellowed lampshades were stacked inside.

  “It’s not a graveyard, it’s a junkyard.” Abe hefted a large hammer and examined it with an admiring eye. “A very nice junkyard.” He set the hammer down. “What are we looking for?”

  “I’ve got no idea.”

  Abe nodded. “That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you, boss. Your sophisticated, high-tech approach to the business of investigation. Yes, sir, I’m learning a lot from you.”

  “I’ve got no idea what we’re looking for, but I do have a question,” Jack said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve been wondering what Edith and Lomax did with the car.”

  Abe gave him a sharp, searching look. “You’re talking about Porter’s ride?”

  Jack played a penlight over an array of rusty drill bits. “We know what they did with the body and the briefcase, but Madeline and Daphne don’t have any idea of what happened to the car. All they know is that the next morning it was gone, along with all the records of Porter’s reservation.”

  Abe looked around. “Well, we know they didn’t hide it here in the maintenance building, at least not indefinitely. No sign of any vehicle here. No room for one, either.”

  “Eighteen years ago when the hotel was active there probably would have been room.” Jack used the penlight to gesture toward the lube pit and the rows of oil cans on a nearby shelf. “Looks like Lomax did regular vehicle maintenance here back in the day.”

  Abe glanced at the lube pit. “So they could have parked Porter’s car here, out of sight for a couple of days, until they figured out how to get rid of it.”

  “Yeah. But what do you do with a dead man’s car on an island?”

  “While we’re pondering that question, I’ve got another one.”

  “What?”

  “What’s going on between you and Madeline Chase?” Abe asked. “Seems to be something more developing than just a business relationship.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I’ll say. A couple of months ago she tried to fire us. You had to go toe-to-toe with her to keep the contract. This morning I find the two of you having coffee together like you’ve been married for ten years. Inquiring minds want to know, what’s wrong with this picture?”

  “She’s a client, Abe.”

  “Right. Our biggest, most important client.”

  “Where are you going with this?”

  Abe turned to contemplate a workbench covered with wrenches and screwdrivers. “Got no idea, boss.”

  Jack glanced at him. He was pretty sure Abe was smiling a little.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that you and Daphne Knight seem to be on a first-name basis,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, well, you know how it is. Spend a lot of time in someone’s company and you get to first names pretty fast.”

  “Sure.” Jack relaxed a little. “What’s your take on her?”

  “Daphne? She’s too thin.”

  “You’ve been with her since yesterday and that’s your considered analysis of Daphne Knight? She’s too thin?”

  “She needs to eat more.”

  “I don’t suppose you noticed anything else that might be of interest in this little murder investigation I’m attempting to run here?”

  “Her husband died a year ago.”

  “I’m aware of that. Natural causes, though.”

  “Yeah, but I think she’s having trouble dealing with it.” Abe bent down and pulled a collection of automobile hoses out from under a bench. “Returning to the subject at hand, I’m thinking that if I were tasked with the problem of getting rid of a vehicle that could tie me to a dead man, I might have driven it off a cliff somewhere on the island.”

  “I don’t think that would have been a good idea, not on this island. The tides around here are pretty extreme. There would have been a very good chance that the dead man’s vehicle would have been exposed at low tide or during a storm.”

  “Okay, point taken. Maybe Lomax just waited a week or two, drove the car onto the ferry, and ditched it somewhere on the mainland.”

  “Possible.” Jack rummaged through a metal cabinet. “But again, there would have been the possibility of someone finding it and tracing it to an owner who had gone missing.”

  “True. There would also have been the very real possibility that Lomax would have been seen driving off the island in a car that was not his own. Questions would have been asked. Small towns and all that.” Abe hauled a wheelbarrow out of the corner and started going through the planting supplies stacked behind it. “Got any idea of what might have been in that briefcase?”

  “Whatever it was, it scared Edith Chase and Lomax so badly they covered up what most courts would have viewed as a justifiable homicide.”

  Abe moved a shovel out of the way so that he could get behind a workbench. “You know how it is with small towns—there’s always a hierarchy. The people at the top usually have a lot of influence over local law enforcement.”

  “In this town the people at the top are the Websters.”

  “So if you killed the guy who was trying to rape your granddaughter and afterward you decided it would be best not to call the police, it might be because you were worried that the Websters wouldn’t be pleased.”

  “Can’t go there just yet. There are plenty of scary people in the world. Mob bosses. Drug cartels. Powerful politicians. Terrorists.” Jack crouched to aim his flashlight under a rusted-out washing machine. “But yeah, this thing feels local.”

  “What else do we know?”
r />   “Lomax’s murder was intended to look like an accident or, at the very least, the work of a surprised burglar. Someone bashed him on the head and pushed him down a staircase.”

  “There are hit men who specialize in making a kill look like an accident.”

  “Yes, but the timing feels local, too,” Jack said. “Why else would someone go after the briefcase now, just as Travis Webster is getting ready to run for office?”

  “Maybe the more important question is, how did someone find out that there was something dangerous or seriously damaging in the briefcase?”

  “That’s easy. One of the five people who knew the secret must have talked, and probably recently.”

  “Like you say, if more than one person knows a secret, it’s no longer a secret. But I’m pretty sure Daphne never talked. She swears she didn’t, and she says she is certain her mother didn’t, either.”

  “Same goes for Madeline and Edith Chase,” Jack said. “That leaves us with Tom Lomax.”

  “Daphne and Madeline seem to think he was a confirmed recluse.”

  “Who recently got a haircut and started shaving.”

  The flashlight played across the corner of a flat metal object lying under the washer. Jack got to his feet.

  “Give me a hand with this washer,” he said.

  Abe crossed the cluttered space and helped him shove the heavy machine out of the way. Jack aimed the flashlight at the metal object.

  “I think we just found out what happened to Porter’s car,” Jack said. “It’s still here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “What about you?” Madeline asked. She watched Daphne shuffle through yet another stack of old photos. “Did you ever get counseling?”

  “No.” Daphne tossed the pictures aside. “For the same reason you didn’t. I knew the source of my problems but I couldn’t tell anyone. Mom talked to me about it a few times, though. Mostly she kept telling me that we were safe and that I shouldn’t worry. But I kept having nightmares. Oh, God, Madeline. There was so much blood that night and I was so afraid it was yours.”

  “You aren’t the only one who has had a few nightmares. I still wake up from time to time feeling as if I’m being suffocated.”

  “To this day I can’t read thrillers or watch gory films.” Daphne made a face. “My husband used to tease me about having a weak stomach.”

  “If he had only known the truth. You were the bravest kid in town and you saved me.”

  “I was terrified.”

  Madeline looked at her. “It wouldn’t be an act of courage in the first place if you weren’t scared to death. I want you to know that I have not only been enormously grateful to you all these years, I’ve also admired you. You were a true heroine that night.”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes,” Madeline said. “Really.”

  “You and I should have talked about what happened. We never processed it.”

  Madeline winced. “Not sure that’s even possible.”

  “So we’ve both got issues.”

  “Who doesn’t have issues? Personally, I’m trying to embrace mine. I tell myself they’re firewalls.”

  “Good plan. I think I’ll do the same.”

  Daphne’s voice was a little too flat, a little too even. Madeline looked at her.

  “What happened, Daph?”

  “I fell in love. Got married.”

  “I hear that happens.”

  “Brandon died a year ago. Brain cancer.”

  “I know. Jack mentioned that you had lost your husband. It came up when he started looking for you online.” Madeline dumped a heap of ancient photography magazines on the bed and put her arms around Daphne. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I should be moving forward. But it feels like I’m trapped in quicksand.”

  “Everyone processes grief in their own way. There are no rules.”

  “It isn’t the grief that has me trapped. It’s the anger.”

  “I understand. They say there are several stages to grief. One of them is anger.”

  “I’m pissed, all right.” Daphne pushed her fingers through her spiky hair. “But I couldn’t tell anyone else exactly why. It would have been just too damn humiliating.”

  “What happened?”

  “A woman came to the funeral. She was a colleague of Brandon’s at the bank where he worked. Her name was Jennifer. I had met her once or twice. She even came to see Brandon a couple of times when he was in the hospital. I thanked her for attending the funeral services. But I noticed that she seemed really broken up by his death.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah. Uh-oh. When I started going through Brandon’s things, I found some of their correspondence on his computer. It went back three years. They had been lovers before Brandon and I met. She was married to someone else. According to the emails, they both agreed to stop seeing each other after Brandon asked me to marry him. And for a while, I guess they called it quits. But it didn’t last long. They restarted the affair a few months later.”

  “That lying, cheating, double-crossing bastard.”

  Daphne looked startled by the fierce reaction. Then she smiled a wry, humorless smile. “I wake up thinking those exact words nearly every morning. I keep remembering all the times he told me that he loved me, especially toward the end.”

  “When he wanted to make sure you stayed by his bedside because he didn’t want to die alone,” Madeline said.

  “After I found out the truth, I definitely felt used. There is no other word for it. A part of me keeps wishing I could go back in time and tell him that I know everything and then walk away and leave him there in that hospital bed, hooked up to all those tubes and needles.”

  “Think of it this way. He’s gone. You’re still alive. As revenge scenarios go, it doesn’t get much better than outliving the son of a bitch.”

  Daphne went blank, evidently stunned. Then she started to laugh. It started out as weak, nervous giggling, but within the space of a couple of breaths she was laughing hard, too hard. It was over-the-top laughter. Hysterical laughter. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  Madeline put her arms around her and held her until the cathartic laughter subsided. When Daphne was once again under control, Madeline released her.

  Daphne found a tissue in her pocket and blotted her eyes.

  “Wow,” she said after a moment. “That’s harsh.”

  “We executive types are known for being able to get to the bottom line.”

  “Unlike some of your ex-boyfriends, I admire that in a woman—especially a sister. Thanks, Maddie. As the old saying goes, I needed that.”

  “Anytime.”

  Madeline turned away—and saw the framed photo on the bedside table. Tom had framed only his personal favorites, the pictures he considered art. But this was not one of his startling landscapes. It was a casual photo of Tom himself. In the picture he was a young, handsome man in his prime, proudly dressed in a military uniform. There was a pretty, smiling woman standing next to him. Tom’s arm was draped around her shoulders in an unmistakably possessive pose. The woman was dressed in a style that Madeline estimated to be several decades out of date.

  “Looks like Tom did have at least one relationship at some point in the past,” Madeline said.

  Daphne came to look over her shoulder. “Maybe there’s a name or a date on the back. Although I don’t know what good it would do us to know the identity of a long-lost love. Obviously things didn’t turn out well for them.”

  “Maybe she died and Tom spent the rest of his life grieving.”

  Madeline carefully disassembled the picture frame and removed the photo.

  A second photo fell out. It had been concealed behind the first. The shot had been taken from a distance. The subject seemed entirely unaware that she was being photographed. She was standing on
the top of the cliffs in front of the Aurora Point Hotel. Her shoulder-length blond hair was blowing around her face but the flying tendrils did not entirely obscure her striking features.

  “Whoever she is, she’s stunning,” Daphne whispered. “Look, she’s dressed in a modern style—not like the woman in the other photo.”

  Madeline flipped the picture over. Written on the back in Tom’s handwriting was the name Ramona and a date.

  “According to the date, this picture was taken about six weeks ago,” Madeline said. “Do you suppose Tom and this woman were in a relationship?”

  “She’s way too young for Tom,” Daphne said.

  “Since when does being young, sexy, and stunning stop a man from getting excited?”

  Daphne winced. “Right.”

  They studied the photo intently.

  “It doesn’t look like she knew Tom was taking the picture,” Daphne said. “I wonder if there are any more of our mysterious Ramona.”

  Footsteps sounded on the front steps.

  “That will be Jack and Abe,” Madeline said. “Maybe they found something.”

  She led the way down the short hall and opened the door. Jack and Abe trooped across the porch.

  “Any sign of Porter’s car?” she asked.

  “It never left the grounds,” Jack said. “It’s stashed in the maintenance building.”

  Daphne frowned. “I thought you said earlier there was no car parked in there.”

  “Once we found this, we knew what had happened,” Jack said.

  He held up a badly rusted sheet of metal cut into a familiar rectangular shape.

  Madeline stared at it, her pulse kicking up. “It looks like an old license plate.”

  “That’s exactly what it is,” Abe said. He grinned. “We’re pretty sure Lomax took Porter’s car apart in his very own chop shop. He may have buried a few pieces. But a lot of it is still there in the shed—enough for me to be able to trace the ownership and registration.”