“More like one of those companies that solves old murder cases.”
“It sounds very macabre.” Ellen paused. “Is there any money in it?”
“Evidently, there is if you’re good at it. Mason and his brother are very good. But I don’t think Mason does it for the money. He finds the work . . . satisfying, I think.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy, psychologically speaking.”
Lucy closed one drawer and opened another. “We need people like Mason. And I’m pretty sure he was born to do that kind of work. Look, I’ve got to run, Mom. Lots to do today.”
“What, exactly, are you doing? I thought I heard a door close a moment ago, and now it sounds like you’re opening and closing doors.”
“I’m in Sara’s bedroom, getting things organized so I can pack up her belongings and dispose of them. She certainly accumulated a lot of stuff. Not to mention the antiques she kept after she and Mary closed their shop.”
“She lived in that house all her life. I don’t think she ever threw anything away. And do be careful when it comes to disposing of those antiques. Most of them will no doubt be valuable.”
“Dad said to bring in an estate appraiser.”
“Good idea. How long are you planning to stay in Summer River?”
Lucy opened another drawer and looked at a tangled heap of cotton and flannel nightgowns, most embroidered with flowers.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I took two weeks of vacation time from Brookhouse. It may take me that long to sort things out here. I need to do some work on the house to get it ready to put on the market.”
“Are you staying at the house?”
“No, a local inn. The thought of spending the night here, knowing there had been a body concealed downstairs all these years, was just too creepy. Got to go, Mom. Love you. Bye.”
“Good-bye, dear. I love you, too.”
It was true, Lucy thought, ending the call. She loved her mother, and her mother loved her. The same was true of her relationship with her father. Their version of family would never be the subject of a Norman Rockwell painting, but still, it was a family.
She wanted something different for herself, though, something more glued-together. But she was not a romantic at heart. She knew the risks and the lousy statistics all too well. She was commitment-shy for a reason.
She went to the bed and dropped the phone into her tote. She had not discussed her suspicions about Sara’s and Mary’s death with her mother or her father for a very good reason. Both would have been seriously alarmed. There would have been long lectures on the phone. She could hear her father now: Leave that sort of thing to the police.
One thing you learned as an adult was that it was not necessary to tell your parents every little detail of your life.
She opened a few more drawers, assessing the contents. When she was finished, she walked out into the hall and entered the second bedroom, the one that she had used when she had stayed with Sara.
She opened another closet door. The sight of the jumbled pile of storage boxes and old clothes told her all she needed to know. It was not her imagination.
Her phone chirped.
She went back into the other room and got her cell out of the tote. She was in the process of deleting two more messages from the matchmaking agency when the device rang. She glanced at the screen. Mason.
“Good timing,” she said. “I was just about to call you.”
“Why?” he asked.
Just like that he had gone into cop mode, she realized.
“We really need to work on your phone etiquette,” she said. “For the record, it’s best not to treat a perfectly normal conversation as an interrogation.”
“What the hell is wrong?”
She abandoned the attempt to instruct him in proper phone manners. “I’m at Sara’s house.” She heard a car pull into the driveway. “Hang on, there’s someone here.”
“Try to focus, damn it.”
“I’m focusing on whoever just arrived.” She went to the window and watched a black luxury sedan glide to a halt in front of the house. A familiar figure climbed out. He had a computer case in one hand. “It’s Nolan Kelly. Got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Wait,” Mason ordered. “Do not hang up on me. Why were you trying to get hold of me?”
“Please do not hang up on me,” she said.
“Lucy, I swear—”
Lucy went out into the hall and started down the stairs.
“I came here today to get a better idea of how much stuff I’m going to have to pack up before I put the house on the market,” she said. She reached the foot of the stairs and walked quickly toward the front door. “First, you should know that although Aunt Sara rarely threw anything away, she was a very orderly person. She did not just toss things into the closets or drawers.
“What are you getting at?” Mason said.
“I spent my first night in town here at the house. I opened a few closets and drawers. Everything inside was neatly arranged in typical Sara style. But today the clothes and the storage boxes look like someone went through them in a hurry.”
“You’re saying you think someone searched the house?” Mason’s voice went dangerously flat.
“Yes. It must have happened last night while we were at the winery party.”
“What the hell would the intruder be looking for?”
“I have no idea. All I can tell you is that it doesn’t look like anything was stolen. I’ll get back to you when I finish talking to Nolan.”
She ended the call before Mason could order her not to hang up again. Nolan was crossing the porch, preparing to ring the bell. She opened the front door.
“Hi, Lucy.” Nolan’s smile was warm and friendly, but it did not quite cancel out the slight sheen of anxiety in his eyes. “I thought we could take a look at some comps.”
“Come on in, Nolan,” she said. “We can talk in the kitchen.”
19
Mason clipped the phone to his belt and moved out from behind the counter. He went down an aisle framed by ranks of gleaming nails and screws on one side and an assortment of plumbing fixtures on the opposite side, heading for the front door.
“Got to go, Deke,” he called over his shoulder.
Deke emerged from the back room. “Where the hell are you off to in such a damn rush?”
“Sara’s house. Lucy says she thinks someone searched the place last night.”
“Son of a—” Deke stopped. He looked more puzzled than alarmed. “Why would anyone do that?”
“An interesting question, in light of the theory that the Scorecard Rapist may have had an accomplice who would now have some concerns about a reopened investigation.”
“Damn.”
“Exactly.” Mason opened the door. “All I know is that I don’t want Lucy alone with anyone who is even remotely connected to this case, and right now she’s alone with Nolan Kelly.”
“Kelly’s a realtor. All he’ll want is the listing.”
“Let me rephrase that. I don’t want Lucy alone with anyone who was at the party at the Harper Ranch thirteen years ago. Kelly was there that night. He was one of the regulars in Brinker’s circle.”
Mason went through the doorway into the warm sunlight. He didn’t realize that Joe had followed him until he was halfway down the street. He looked down at the dog trotting close at his heels.
“You want to come along?” he said. “Fine. But don’t go for Kelly’s throat unless I give the okay. Understood?”
Joe looked at him briefly as if to say, Give me a break. I know my job.
A middle-aged woman came toward them on the sidewalk. She had a small, fluffy white dog on a pink leash. Her eyes widened in horror when she spotted Joe. She snatched up her little dog an
d tucked it under her arm out of harm’s way.
Safe on its high perch, the small dog yapped at Joe, who paid no attention.
“Summer River has a leash ordinance,” the woman announced to Mason. “All dogs in town are supposed to be on a leash.”
She pointed to a nearby sign emblazoned with the silhouette of a dog on a leash.
Mason glanced at the sign and then jerked a thumb at Joe. “Take it up with him.”
He kept walking. Joe paced at his heels. When they reached the small parking lot, Mason opened the rear door of his car. Joe jumped up onto the backseat and sat.
“Try not to embarrass me like that again,” Mason said. “If we get arrested for violating the leash law, I’m not going to take the fall for you.”
Joe appeared unconcerned. He sat at attention, ears pricked, gaze focused on the view through the windshield. He was on duty, riding shotgun in the rear seat.
Mason shut the door, went around to the other side of the car and got behind the wheel. He was pulling out of the parking lot and turning onto Main Street when he saw the familiar figure entering Fletcher Hardware.
It was hard to imagine Warner Colfax engaging in a little DIY home-repair work. Odds were Colfax intended to try to apply pressure to Deke.
“Good luck to him, is all I can say,” Mason remarked to Joe.
If anyone in town could handle Warner Colfax, it was Deke.
It was still early. The daily tourist rush was not due to start for another few hours. The light traffic enabled Mason to make good time through town. He made even better time once he was on the road that would take him to Sara’s house.
Ten minutes later, he turned onto the narrow lane that cut through the old apple orchard. The Gravensteins had not been picked that summer because Sara and Mary were gone. The apples hung heavily from the trees.
There was a long black car parked in the drive next to Lucy’s compact. If Nolan Kelly had intended any harm to Lucy, it seemed unlikely he would leave his vehicle parked in front of her house. Still, like a lot of other people these days, Nolan wanted something from Lucy.
Mason shut down the engine, got out and opened the rear door for Joe. They went up the front steps together. Mason hit the doorbell, but he did not wait for Lucy to respond. When he tried the knob, he discovered that the door was open, so he let himself into the front hall.
“Lucy?” He resisted the urge to add, “I’m home.”
“We’re in the kitchen,” she called.
She sounded fine. Mason told himself to relax. He had overreacted. It occurred to him that he had developed a disturbing tendency to do that a lot when it came to Lucy.
He went into the kitchen, Joe at his heels. Lucy and Nolan were at the table, huddled around a computer. There was a photo of a house on the screen.
Nolan managed a smile, but he did not look pleased by the interruption.
“Hello, Mason,” Lucy said. She gave him a severe stick-to-my-script look. “Nolan is showing me some listings for other, similar houses in the area so that I can get an idea of the value of this place.”
“I told you, the house is nice, but it’s not nearly as valuable as the land,” Mason said. He pulled out a chair, turned it back to front and straddled the seat. He folded his arms on the back of the chair. “But I’m sure Nolan has already explained that to you.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did explain that to Lucy.” Nolan’s jaw was clenched, but he managed to keep the smile going. “The property will certainly appeal to someone who wants to establish his own winery.”
“I hate to think of all those lovely old apple trees being destroyed,” Lucy said, “but I’m not a fanatic about saving the Gravensteins like Sara was.” She smiled. “After all, I like wine, too.”
“Glad to hear that,” Nolan said. “Because I’ve got just the buyer for you.”
“The thing is, my father insists that the house should be given a bit of a face-lift in order to get the best possible price.”
“I agree the house is a fine example of the Craftsmanship style,” Nolan said patiently. “I’m just trying to point out that you don’t need to sink a lot of money into it before you put it on the market.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not planning anything major,” Lucy said. “I don’t have a lot of cash to pour into the house. I appreciate your time, Nolan. I’ll think about these numbers and get back to you when I’ve made some decisions.”
Nolan hesitated. but the salesman in him must have concluded that it would not be wise to press for the listing.
“Excellent,” he said. He shut down the computer, got to his feet and took out a small silver case. “Here’s my card. Call me if you have any questions, night or day.”
“Thanks.” Lucy gave him a warm smile. She rose. “I’ll see you to the door.”
“Thanks.”
Mason watched the two of them walk across the kitchen and go into the hall. He got out of the chair and followed at a leisurely pace. Lucy glanced back and shot him a warning look. He widened his hands and gave her a polite I’m-not-trying-to-interfere look in return. He was behaving himself.
He stopped in the kitchen doorway and propped one shoulder against the jamb. He watched Nolan glance uneasily into the living room.
“Hard to believe Brinker’s body was in that fireplace all these years,” Nolan said.
“I don’t think there’s any need to mention that in the listing,” Lucy said smoothly.
“No, no, of course not,” Nolan said quickly. “But talk about weird. I don’t suppose you have any idea why your aunt, uh, did that?”
“She must have had her reasons,” Lucy said.
Nolan winced. “A lot of people may have had reasons to get rid of Brinker.”
“Really?” Lucy said.
Mason had to hand it to her. She did innocent very well.
Nolan tightened his grip on the handle of the computer case. “He’d smile at you one minute, as if you were his best friend in the world, and the next minute he would stick a knife in your back. It’s not hard to believe that he was the Scorecard Rapist. I don’t even want to think about what this town would have been like if he had hung around any longer than he did that summer. He was smart, he was rich and he was a total sociopath.”
“A real bad combination,” Mason said.
Nolan nodded grimly. “A lot of folks were damned relieved when he disappeared. If you ask me, Sara did everyone a favor by getting rid of him.”
Lucy cleared her throat gently. “As I recall, you were part of the crowd that hung around him that summer.”
“Yeah.” Nolan grimaced. “I was thrilled at first. But the big thing you learned sooner or later about Tristan Brinker was that there was always a price to pay for the privilege of being on his A-list.”
Nolan did not wait for a response. He opened the door and let himself out onto the front porch. Lucy waited until she heard the big car start up in the drive before she turned around and looked at Mason.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.
“I’m thinking that if Kelly is so happy to know that Brinker has been dead all this time, why does he seem so nervous?”
“Maybe it’s just about the listing. After all, there’s a big commission at stake, and he’s not the only real estate agent in town.”
“Maybe,” Mason said. “But I think there’s more to it than a commission.”
“Something about the way he looked around the house when he got here bothered me, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Think he might have been the person who searched the house last night?”
“I have no idea.”
“You’re absolutely sure someone tossed the place?”
“Positive,” Lucy said. “Whoever it was tried to be neat and
orderly about the job, but I could tell that someone had gone through the closets and drawers and the desk. The question is, what was the intruder looking for? And why search for it now? The house has been sitting here, unoccupied, ever since Sara’s death. There was plenty of opportunity for someone to break in and steal something.”
“Obviously, the discovery of the body triggered the search.”
“Yes.”
“Lots of questions here.” Mason straightened away from the doorframe. “We need to start finding some answers. How do you feel about doing a little genealogical research?”
“What’s the name of the family?”
“Brinker.”
20
Jeffrey Brinker and I were on top of the financial world back in those days,” Warner said. “Oh, we were still small compared to the big outfits, but we were the smartest guys in the business, and we knew it. Brinker had a way with the clients. My job was to assess the markets and pick the investments. I always did the math before making a buy, but when decision time came, I went with my gut. My instincts were damn near infallible. Jeffrey and I were making money hand over fist.”
Deke kept silent. He eased his rear down onto the stool that he kept behind the counter and watched Colfax contemplate a display of screwdrivers.
He had been surprised to see Colfax come through the front door almost immediately after Mason left. For reasons that were not yet entirely clear, Warner had started talking about the past as if they were longtime friends. That was about as far from reality as it was possible to get. In Deke’s world, a man made a few extra bucks by deploying multiple times to war zones. If he survived, he came home and bought the local hardware store. In Colfax’s world, a man played the markets, got rich and founded a boutique winery.
Deke was pretty sure that the only thing he and Warner had in common was their age.
Colfax was carrying on about the legendary accuracy of his apparently golden gut, but Deke had learned to trust his own gut a long time ago. It hadn’t come in handy for making money, but it had kept him alive in some nasty situations. It was telling him now that there were only two possible explanations for Colfax’s visit this morning. Either Warner wanted information or else he intended to try to apply some pressure. Probably both.