They returned from the China trip and found the house completed. They examined it, room by room, remarking with joy on the posts and beams and paneling, the fine arrangement on the fireplaces of the bricks Andrew had commissioned from West Barnstable, the pilasters and carving that surrounded the great front door, with its crosslike panels.
They’d delighted in the fanlight they had admired in London, the way it cast lovely patterns over the entrance hall. Then they descended the steep slope to see their house as it would be observed from the beach.
“Tobias Knight be a fine builder,” Andrew said as they stood looking up. The water was lapping at Mehitabel’s skirt. She gathered it up and stepped onto dry sand, commenting, “I would love to feel the water on my ankles.”
Andrew laughed. “A chill water it is, and you with child. I think it not advisable.”
* * *
“Mrs. Nichols, are you all right?”
Menley spun around. Amy was in the doorway, Hannah in her arms. “Oh, of course, I’m fine. Amy, you’re going to have to forgive me. When I write or sketch, I’m in a different world.”
Amy smiled. “That’s the way Professor Sprague used to describe writing when she visited my mother.”
“Your mother and Professor Sprague were friends? I didn’t know that.”
“My mother and father belonged to a camera club. They were good amateur photographers. My father still is, of course. They met Professor Sprague through the club, and she and my mother got really friendly.” Amy’s tone changed. “That’s where my father met Elaine. She’s a member too.”
Menley’s throat went dry. Hannah was patting Amy’s face. But she envisioned Amy looking different. Slimmer. Not as tall. Her blond hair darker, her face small and heart shaped. Her smile tender and sad as she kissed the top of the baby’s head and rocked her in her arms. That was the way she would portray Mehitabel in the weeks between her baby’s birth and the day she lost her.
Then Amy shivered. “It’s really freezing cold in here, isn’t it? Is it all right if I make a cup of tea?”
59
When Adam arrived at Scott’s house, he found him hosing down the garage. He frowned when he saw that Covey had been concentrating on an oil-stained area. “You’re being very industrious,” he observed.
“Not really. I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. Viv took a course on car maintenance a couple of years ago and fancied herself a mechanic for a while. She had an old Caddy, and she liked to pump her own gas and change the oil.”
“Did the Caddy have an oil leak?” Adam asked quickly.
“I don’t know whether it had a leak or if Viv was spilling half the oil. She always parked that car in this space. She bought the BMW after we were married.”
“I see. Do you happen to know if the police took any pictures of the garage floor when they were here?”
Scott looked startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Detective Coogan was looking under Tina’s car yesterday. It has an oil leak.”
Abruptly Scott turned off the hose and slammed it down. “Adam, can you understand what this is like for me? I’m going nuts. I have to tell you that as soon as the inquest is over, I’m getting out of here. Let them think what they want. They will anyhow.”
Then he shook his head, as though clearing it. “Sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come on inside. It’s chilly out here. I thought August was supposed to be the best month of the year on the Cape.”
“Other than being cool today, I haven’t seen any weather to object to so far,” Adam said mildly.
“Sorry again. Adam, I have to talk to you.” He turned abruptly and led the way into the house.
Adam refused the offer of a beer, and while Scott went to get one for himself, used the time to study the living room carefully. It looked as though it needed a good straightening, but that could have been the result of the search. The police were not famous for restoring the premises they had searched to pristine order.
But there was something else Adam noted, an emptiness about the room. There was nothing personal anywhere, no photographs, no books, no magazines. The furniture wasn’t shabby, but it was neither attractive nor coordinated. Adam remembered that Elaine had told him Vivian had bought the place furnished. It didn’t look as though she had done anything to put her stamp on it, and if Scott Covey’s personality was reflected in the room, Adam certainly couldn’t spot it.
He thought of the keeping room of Remember House. In the two weeks they had been there, Menley had given it an inviting atmosphere, and she’d done it effortlessly. Geraniums lined the windowsills. The outsized wooden salad bowl was heaped with fruit. She had lugged a battered rocker from the small parlor and set it by the fireplace. A wicker basket that had probably been used for carrying logs was serving as a container for magazines and newspapers.
Menley was a natural homemaker. Adam thought uncomfortably of how he had dashed out this morning to warn Amy to stay with Menley until he got back. Menley wouldn’t have sent Amy home, he told himself. She’s just as concerned about those anxiety attacks as I am. She called Dr. Kaufman yesterday. She had even suggested having Amy in all day.
What was keeping Covey? How long did it take to pour a beer? And what in hell am I doing here? Adam asked himself. This is my vacation. My wife needs me and I let myself get talked into taking on this case.
He walked into the kitchen. “Any problem?”
Scott was sitting at the table, his arms folded, the beer untouched. “Adam,” he said tonelessly. “I haven’t been straight with you.”
60
Nat Coogan decided it would be a good idea to pay a second visit to Fred Hendin. Armed with the information that the insurance investigator had shared with him, he arrived at Hendin’s home at four-thirty.
Hendin’s car was in the driveway. Nat was not delighted to see that Tina’s green Toyota was parked behind it. On the other hand, it might be interesting to observe them together, he thought.
He sauntered up the walk and rang the bell. When Hendin came to the door, he was visibly displeased. “Did I forget we had an appointment?” he asked.
“We don’t,” Nat said pleasantly. “Is it okay if I come in?”
Hendin stood aside. “It’s not okay if you keep upsetting my girlfriend.”
Tina was sitting on the couch, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Why do you keep bothering me?” she demanded.
“I have no intention of bothering you, Tina,” Nat said evenly. “We’re conducting an investigation into a possible homicide. When we ask questions, it’s to get answers, not to harass people.”
“You’re talking to people about me. You’re looking at my car.” Fresh tears gushed from her eyes.
You’re a lousy actress, Nat thought. This is show-and-tell for Fred’s benefit. He glanced at Hendin and saw irritation and sympathy on his face. And it’s working, he thought.
Hendin sat down beside Tina, and his work-roughened hand closed over hers. “What’s this about the car?”
“Haven’t you noticed that Tina has a fairly serious oil leak?”
“I noticed it. I’m giving Tina a new car for her birthday. That’s in three weeks. No point wasting money fixing up the other one.”
“The floor of Scott Covey’s garage has a pretty big oil stain,” Nat said. “It didn’t come from the new BMW.”
“And it didn’t come from my car,” Tina snapped, her eyes suddenly dry.
Hendin stood up. “Mr. Coogan, Tina told me there’d be an inquest. Covey’s lawyer is coming to talk to me, and I’m going to tell him exactly what I’m telling you now, so listen good. Tina and I broke up last summer because she was seeing Covey. She dated a lot of guys over the winter, and that’s not my business. We’ve been back together since last April, and there hasn’t been a night I haven’t seen her, so don’t try to make a big romance out of her bumping into Covey in that bar or stopping by his house to offer sympathy when his wife was missing.”
He slung an arm around Tina’s shoulders, and she smiled up at him. “It’s a damn shame that you’re spoiling all my surprises, but I have another one for this little lady. Besides the car, I bought her an engagement ring that I was going to give her on her birthday, but with the way things are, she’s going to have it on her finger when we go into court next week. Now get out, Coogan. You and your questions make me sick.”
61
So this is where the defense falls apart, Adam thought. In Vivian Carpenter’s kitchen. “What do you mean you weren’t being straight with me?” he snapped.
Scott Covey studied his untouched glass of beer. He did not look at Adam as he said, “I told you that I didn’t see Tina from the time I married Vivian except that day in the pub and when she came here to offer condolences. That’s true. What isn’t true is the impression I gave you that she and I called it quits last summer.”
“You saw her after you left the Cape last August?”
“She came down to Boca five or six times. I’ve been wanting to tell you; I’m sure your investigator will find out anyhow.”
“The investigator I want is on vacation till next week. But you’re right. He would have found out. And so will the district attorney’s office, if they haven’t already.”
Scott pushed back his chair and got up. “Adam, I feel like a louse saying this, but it’s true. I did break off with Tina last August. It wasn’t just that I was seeing Viv. It was that Tina wanted to get serious and I didn’t. Then when I got to Boca, I realized that I missed Viv a lot. Usually these summer romances fizzle. You know that. I phoned Viv and realized she felt the same way about me. She came down to Boca, we met in New York a few times and by spring we both were sure we wanted to get married.”
“If you’re telling the truth now, why didn’t you tell it from the beginning?” Adam shot the question accusingly.
“Because Fred doesn’t know that Tina was still seeing me over the winter. It didn’t bother him that she dated other guys, but he really hates me because she dropped him for me last summer. That was the real reason she asked me to meet her. She wanted to see me face to face and hear me promise never to tell anyone that she’d been down to Florida.”
“Did you see her after she walked out of the pub that day?”
Scott shrugged. “I called her and said that whatever she had to talk about, she’d have to say it on the phone. Then when I heard what it was, I laughed. I asked her who she thought I was going to tell about her coming to Boca. What kind of jerk did she think I was?”
“I think we’re going to need a few witnesses at the inquest to testify that Tina was chasing you, and not the other way around. Is there anyone you can suggest?”
Scott brightened. “A couple of the other waitresses at the Daniel Webster Inn. Tina used to be friendly with them, but then they got mad at her. She told me they were sore because some of the regular customers who are big tippers requested to be seated at one of her tables.”
“Tina seems to play all the angles,” Adam said. “I hope her friend Fred doesn’t mind having it publicly aired that she was lying to him.” Why did I get myself into this? he wondered again. He still believed that Scott Covey’s wife died in a tragic accident, but he also believed that Covey had been using Tina until Vivian decided to marry him. This guy may be innocent of murder, but it doesn’t keep him from being a sleaze, he thought.
Suddenly this smallish kitchen seemed to close in on Adam. He wanted to get back to Menley and Hannah. They would have only a few days together before he had to take Menley to the hospital in New York. He would have to begin to prepare her for that. “Give me the names of those waitresses,” he said abruptly.
“Liz Murphy and Alice Regan.”
“Write them down. Let’s hope they still work there.” Adam turned and left the kitchen.
As he passed the dining room he glanced in. A large framed picture was on the table; it was the aerial view of Remember House Elaine had had in the window. He went over to examine it.
Beautiful photography, he thought. The house seemed majestically aloof. The colors were spectacular—the rich green-leaved branches of the trees surrounding the house, the purple-blue hydrangeas bordering the foundation, the blue-green ocean, tranquil with a lazy surf. You could even see strollers on the beach and a small boat anchored just below the horizon.
“I’d love to have this,” he commented.
“It’s a gift from Elaine,” Scott said quickly. “Otherwise I’d give it to you. She seems to think that if you don’t buy Remember House, I’d be interested.”
“Would you be?”
“If Viv were alive, yes. As it stands, no.” He hesitated. “What I mean is, in my present frame of mind, no. Maybe I’ll feel differently if a judge clears me.”
“Looking at this picture would certainly be an incentive to buy the place. It is for me,” Adam said. Then he turned to leave. “I’m on my way. We’ll talk later.”
He was getting into his car when Henry Sprague waved him over. “I’ve found more material that I think Menley would be interested in,” he explained. “Come in; let me give it to you.”
The file was on the foyer table. “And Phoebe is very insistent that this doll belongs in Remember House. I don’t know why she thinks that, but would you mind taking it with you?”
“Menley will probably be delighted to see it,” Adam said. “It certainly is a genuine antique. Don’t be surprised if it shows up sketched in her book. Thanks, Henry. How’s Phoebe today?”
“Napping right now. She didn’t have a good night. I don’t know if I told you; I’m putting her in the nursing home as of the first of the month.”
“You didn’t tell me. I’m sorry.”
As Adam tucked the file under his arm and picked up the doll, he was startled by a scream. “She’s having another nightmare,” Henry said, and rushed toward the bedroom, Adam behind him.
Phoebe was lying on the bed, her hands covering her face. Henry bent over and took her hands in his. “It’s all right, dear,” he said soothingly.
She opened her eyes, looked up at him, then turned her head and saw Adam holding the doll. “Oh, they did drown her,” she sighed. “But I’m glad they decided to let the baby live.”
62
Menley phoned Carrie Bell at four o’clock. Carrie’s initial cautious response when Menley identified herself was replaced by genuine warmth when she realized the reason for the call.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said. “I sure can use the money. I’ve lost a lot of work these two weeks.”
“A lot of work?” Menley asked. “Why is that?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll be over tomorrow morning bright and early. Thank you, Mrs. Nichols.”
Menley told Amy about the conversation. “Do you know what she could have meant about losing a lot of work?”
Amy looked uncomfortable. “It’s just that Elaine recommends her to people who are selling or renting their houses. Carrie goes in for a couple of days and is really good at making a house look great. But Elaine says that, because she’s a terrible gossip, she’s not sending her out on new jobs. She even tried to get my father to fire her.”
* * *
Over dinner, Menley told Adam about that conversation. “Don’t you think that was mean?” she asked as she ladled a second helping of chili onto his plate. “From what Amy tells me, Carrie Bell is a hardworking single mother, supporting a three-year-old.”
“This is your best chili ever,” Adam commented. “To answer you, I know Carrie’s good. She cleaned the cottage I took last year when I came up alone. But I also know that Elaine is a hard worker. It’s no accident that she’s as successful as she is, because she doesn’t leave anything to chance. If she thinks Carrie Bell’s gossip is hurting her chances of selling houses, Carrie’s out of a job. Oh, did I mention that besides the food I like the ambience?”
Menley had turned off the overhead light and put the wall sconces on the dim
setting. They were sitting opposite each other at the refectory table. All Phoebe Sprague’s research data and books, as well as Menley’s own notes and sketches, were now in the library.
“I decided that since we always eat in here, it’s a shame to have it so cluttered,” she explained.
That was only part of the truth, she acknowledged to herself. The rest was that when Adam had gotten home late in the afternoon and given her the heavy file he’d gotten from Henry Sprague, she had glanced through it and been shocked to see the sketch of Mehitabel and Andrew on the ship. It was exactly as she had visualized them. There has to be another picture of them in all this stuff, she thought, and I must have seen it. But it was one more example of forgetting something important.
That was when she decided to put the Remember House research aside for a few days and get the Travel Times article out of the way. She’d phoned Jan Paley, who agreed to line up some historical homes for her to visit.
“The stories you told me about the houses where people sense a presence would be perfect,” she had told Jan. “I know the editor would love it.” And I want to know what those people have to say, she’d thought.
“Did you do much writing today, or are you still digging through Phoebe’s files?” Adam asked.
“Neither actually; I was working on something else.” She told him about her call to Jan and what she planned to do.
Did I rush that explanation? Menley wondered. It sounded so rehearsed.
“Ghost stories?” Adam smiled. “You don’t believe in that nonsense.”
“I believe in legends.” She noticed the chili had disappeared from his plate. “You were hungry. What did you have for lunch?”
“A hamburger, but that was a long time ago. ’Laine was with me. We went over her testimony for the inquest.”
There was always something affectionate, even intimate, about the way Adam spoke when he referred to Elaine. She had to ask. “Adam, were you ever involved with Elaine, I mean more than as a big buddy?”