Carolyn G. Hart_Henrie O_04 (21 page)

“Just once. I told him it must have been planned by some crooks who knew all about the kids. We decided we couldn't go to the police. We didn't think anybody would believe us. And we hadn't done anything wrong. We didn't know anything that would have made a difference to the police.”

And Belle would have been furious.

“You had the letter, setting it up,” I said sharply. “That could have helped—”

He was shaking his head. “The last part told me to put the letter and the toy guns in the rowboat by the boathouse.” He kneaded his temple with his fist. “Somebody stole the rowboat that night. The police found it drifting near a public boat ramp.”

As Dugan said, somebody had been clever, very, very clever.

Lester Mackey's faded blue eyes pled with me. “It could have been anybody, anybody at all.”

But he and I knew that wasn't true. Maybe he couldn't have known it then, but he knew it now.

“Richard.”

Mackey's eyes slid away from me. “I thought he fell.”

“Richard talked to you when he came to Ahiahi.” I tried to keep a dangerous edge out of my voice. I needed this man's help.

Slowly, Lester nodded. “Just for a minute. Late that afternoon. He said he'd seen Johnnie and Johnnie'd told him how we staged the kidnapping. He asked me if Johnnie'd ever talked to me about later that night, the night CeeCee disappeared.”

The night that Johnnie went for a walk in the woods. Back to the cabin where CeeCee waited for the joke to continue.

I waited for Lester's answer as Richard must have waited. Richard was looking for confirmation. I was looking for a name.

I knew the answer before it came, knew and raged within.

Lester massaged one temple. “But I told him I'd only talked to Johnnie once and he hadn't said a word about that night. Not a word.”

So only Richard knew whom Johnnie saw with CeeCee.

Richard was dead.

Johnnie was dead.

I was suffused with despair. I'd come so far, certain I would know the truth of Richard's death when I discovered who had sent me the poster.

Now, I knew.

But I didn't know enough. And this man couldn't really help me. I stared out at the tower of water wavering in the limpid air.

Lester gripped the green knob of the fence post. “Ever since CeeCee was killed, I wake up in the night scared to death. Something's wrong, dreadfully wrong. At first I don't know what it is, and then I remember, I remember.” Spouting Horn gave its mournful moan. “But I couldn't believe it was one of the kids. I couldn't believe it.”

Wouldn't believe it.

He put his hands together, cracked the knuckles. “Your
husband could have fallen. Anybody can fall. But Belle's accident last year—I kept thinking about it. At first I was just so glad she was alive. But I kept thinking about the brakes going out. And then I thought about your husband and the fact that everyone was coming now. And I was scared.”

“So you sent that poster to me.” Lester with his artistic talents and his reluctance ever to be noticed.

Defiantly, Lester met my eyes. “I thought if you came, maybe you could prove it one way or the other. I thought maybe I was crazy, making it all up, because everything's been so weird since the lake. But when you said Johnnie drowned, just a couple of weeks after your husband came here, then I knew. Johnnie never stumbled off his pier. I don't care how drunk he was. Somebody killed Johnnie. That means somebody here killed your husband, and that means…”

Someone in the family killed CeeCee at the lake. And tried to kill Belle here.

Add up the column. Tally the figures.

“Lester,” my voice was insistent, “the letter you found in your car, the letter setting up the joke. Who signed it?”

He licked his lips. “It had to be forged.”

“Lester, who signed it? Who did Johnnie Rodriguez see at the cabin?”

“It's all so tangled. It doesn't fit together. And why the hell didn't Johnnie tell me if he saw anyone at the cabin? I'm the one he should have told.” His voice was sullen.

“What would you have done?” I asked bitterly.

“I'd have done something. And now, now I don't know what to do.”

“You've got to tell Belle everything. We have to warn her.”

He stepped back, glared at me. “We can't tell her. Listen, let me see what I can find out.”

“What do you know?” By God, he knew something!

“I don't
know
anything. I can't blame somebody if I don't know.” His anguish was clear. He turned away, hurried down the sidewalk, his head lowered.

I ran after him. “Lester, tell me who signed that letter.”

He shook his head. “That's not the answer. I know it's not.” He walked faster.

“Lester, damn you,” and I shouted it, “tell me!”

He broke into a run, loped to his car. I followed as fast as I could. I didn't care that curious faces turned toward me. But the car peeled out of the lot, leaving me standing in its dust.

I
had to talk to Belle. It was no longer solely a matter of discovering what happened to Richard. It was, imperatively, urgently, a matter of Belle's safety. Yes, I could remain silent about what I knew when it was a question of vengeance. I could not remain silent now.

Last year someone in a very small, intimate circle—her husband, one of her children or stepchildren, her son's wife, her secretary—one of them tampered with the brakes on her car.

The first face that flashed in my mind was that of her husband. I couldn't be certain, but there seemed no plausible reason why Elise Ford and Keith Scanlon should quarrel—bitterly, clandestinely—unless they were involved in an affair. Did Scanlon want to break off the affair? It figured. He'd had a pattern through his life of inconstancy. But no matter whether he enjoyed running a tennis center, he obviously enjoyed being married to a very wealthy woman. But per
haps he was tired not only of his lover but of his wife. He could go home to Texas much more comfortably as a fabulously wealthy widower.

Anders Burke was obsessed with protecting animals. Was there a limit to Belle's largesse to the foundation, a limit that would ease with her death and his inheritance? Anders was still jealous of his dead sister. Had he resented Belle's tenderness for CeeCee enough to plan the kidnapping and murder?

Joss Burke wanted to stay in Hollywood. Had he killed his sister to win the freedom to go there? Would he kill his mother to win the wealth to stay there?

Wheeler Gallagher was high maintenance. Belle was a generous stepmother. No doubt he would have access to even more money if she died. Had CeeCee finally told Wheeler they were finished, that she was going to leave him behind forever for Stan Dugan?

Megan Gallagher starved herself to be free. But models have a very short life of fame and riches. Would she shorten Belle's life to have the money to be free always? “What price freedom?” she'd asked me. Perhaps she knew the answer. But it was she who told me about the brakes in Belle's car.

Gretchen Gallagher needed money. Gretchen resented her father's marriage to Belle. And Gretchen, too, won freedom when CeeCee died.

Elise Ford was involved with Keith Scanlon. To what length would she go to have him to herself? To be chatelaine of Ahiahi? Or could it be even darker? Had Keith spurned her to return to his wife and was Elise consumed with jealousy?

Or, in the swirl of conflicting desires and emotions at Ahiahi, the attempt on Belle's life could be independent of CeeCee's murder. I went back and forth, uncertain, sure only that Belle, unaware, was stalked by deadly peril.

I was determined to face Belle that day. I returned to Ahiahi with that one goal in mind.

Belle was gone.

Elise was apologetic. “Belle was so sorry you weren't here. She especially wanted you to come. There's a wonderful coffeehouse in Kalaheo. But they should be back by mid-afternoon.” Belle had left just before noon with Gretchen and Megan.

“And the others?”

“Oh,” she said carelessly, “some are here and some aren't.” Elise's voice was pleasant, but there were dark shadows under her eyes. “It's all very casual, Mrs. Collins.”

Casual. And frightening. But Belle should be safe with Megan and Gretchen. It was tonight that concerned me and the remainder of the nights while this gathering lasted. This was the dangerous period, while all the family was here.

I didn't know what I would say to Belle, what I
should
say to Belle. Should I reveal all of it, including my suspicions about Keith and Elise? Or should I focus on CeeCee and Richard's trip here in search of CeeCee's killer? I didn't know.

I was too restless simply to await Belle's return. I wandered about Ahiahi.

I found Amelia in the kitchen, conferring with the cook. I waited until she walked out to the garden.

“Amelia?”

She turned, looked at me gravely. I think she knew why I wanted to see her.

“Ma'am.” She waited attentively, but her dark eyes were troubled.

“The night my husband died and you were awake quite late, whom did you see?” I kept my voice even, quiet, unemotional, as if this were a simple piece of information, nothing to remark.

She was reluctant. Yet, why should she be? Unless she too thought Richard's fall was no accident. But the question
ing look in her eyes surprised me. Shocked me a little. I realized she was suspicious of me, of my motives. Why had I come? And what mischief did I intend?

It's odd to realize you've been misinterpreted entirely. It made me wonder what discussions might have ensued among the staff.

“Mrs. Collins.” She was still polite, but for the first time she spoke to me as an individual, not as Belle's employee. “Anyone can be awake late at night. Especially as you get older. Yes, I saw someone. I'd gone to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of camomile tea. Mr. Mackey was on the lanai by the reflecting pool.”

“Did he see you?”

“I don't believe so. I had my tea and was carrying it back to my rooms.” Her voice was firm.

But Lester Mackey had no reason late at night to be on that lanai. Was he going to go to Richard? Or had Lester seen someone else abroad at that very late hour and followed to see what was happening? Did Lester see someone go to Richard's suite?

Lester saw someone or something. But not enough to make him suspect murder when Richard died. Especially since Lester did not want to make that linkage. He'd resisted until Belle's “accident.” That frightened him, caused him to entice me here.

“If that is all, Mrs. Collins…”

I looked at Amelia. I suppose my face was grim. “Yes. That's all, Amelia.”

She gave me a sharp, thoughtful look, then moved quietly away.

The hard
thwock
of tennis balls led me to the clay courts. Stan and Joss, their faces dangerously red, their sweaty clothes clinging to them, played tennis as if the future of the world depended upon the outcome. I walked on and found Peggy sunning by the pool.

Peggy looked at me like an African villager sighting a marauding leopard. “What do you want?” She pulled the lime-green beach towel up to her chin. The childlike gesture almost touched me until I balanced it with her swiftness to lie when she thought Anders was threatened and her creativity, claiming that CeeCee had approved the plan for the animal refuge that last Friday afternoon.

“A little more truth and a little less lies.” I pushed a chair into the shade of the umbrella, its canvas rippling in the breeze. Jacaranda blossoms floated in the pool. Pretty, but a hazard for the filters.

The sweet, summery scent of coconut oil wafted toward me as she struggled to sit up. The towel slipped down. Her skin had a bright, greasy sheen, and her hair clung to her head in damp, limp ringlets. “It
is
the truth. CeeCee decided the refuge was absolutely a wonderful idea.”

I looked at her dispassionately. It was almost too easy. The old when-you-hear-this-word-what's-the-first-thing-that-comes-to-mind game. Yes, Peggy was quite willing to lie, but she had yet to learn how to dissemble. If I'd had any doubts about her creative recall, this settled them. That made Joss's ingenuous support quite interesting.

But maybe I could pan a little truth from Peggy's lies. “At breakfast yesterday—”

It might be a mundane beginning, but it certainly had Peggy's full attention.

“—you said CeeCee told you that she'd given her engagement ring back to Stan.”

“That was
after
we'd talked about the refuge.” Peggy's eyes glistened with cunning.

Oh, Peggy. Would a woman who'd just broken her engagement start a conversation with a discussion of charitable plans?

“Did CeeCee call you?”

“Yes. About two-thirty.” Peggy was comfortable here.

Sifting the truth wasn't going to be hard. CeeCee had returned from the lunch where she—or Stan—had ended their engagement and she called her best friend.

“Was CeeCee upset?”

Peggy nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes. Or she wouldn't have called me.” Peggy'd forgotten for a moment about the refuge. “Of course CeeCee kept her cool. She just said she and Stan were through and she'd tell me all about it at the lake.” She smoothed the towel over her lap. “But her voice was shaking.”

“What about Wheeler?”

Peggy's prim face shifted and there was a sudden sexual light in her eyes. “Oh.” She looked at me with respect. “How did you know about that?”

“I suppose it wasn't common knowledge.”

“No.” Peggy picked up a corner of the towel, pleated it in her fingers. “They had a thing for each other.” There was a tiny edge of envy in her voice. “But CeeCee simply couldn't face Belle. Not about Wheeler. Because Belle always made so much fuss about the great, wonderful family. I told CeeCee over and over that Wheeler wasn't her brother. I mean, that's silly. They were teenagers when they met. And that's what happened, of course. Right from the first…” Again, that little surge of envy. “Of course, they had to keep it hidden then. You know how adults are about sex!” For a moment it was as though she were a teenager again in a secret world. “And they kept it a secret for so many years and acted like brother and sister and that made it, well, like it was wrong. CeeCee kept trying to fall in love, one guy after another. But she always came back to Wheeler. I thought it was going to be okay when she met Stan.” She looked at me earnestly. “CeeCee really fell for him. I don't know what happened.”

I did. If Stan's story was true.

But it could have happened just a little differently. Instead of Stan asking for the ring, maybe CeeCee returned it
because she'd decided, after all was said and done, that she loved Wheeler and that she would have him no matter what.

And how might Stan Dugan have reacted to that?

But why would Stan have hired a private detective? And why last night would he have pummeled the “witnesses” about CeeCee's last day?

There was always the possibility of a twist within a twist within a twist.

Stan Dugan could have hired a private detective because it was the kind of action a flamboyant, bereaved trial lawyer might be expected to take when the crime wasn't solved.

And last night Stan could have been playing to me, the retired reporter reputed to be an expert on crime. If Stan took the dossiers from my room, he would certainly be likely to think I was after more than material for a book. And his performance last night could be a charade of innocence. But Stan wasn't here last year when the brakes went out in Belle's car. Still, it was always possible that the attempt on Belle's life had nothing to do with CeeCee's kidnapping.

Peggy watched me warily.

I wasn't finished with her. “Did CeeCee say anything about Wheeler to you?”

“Not a word. Just that she would tell me everything at the lake.”

That seemed to be that. I stood. Then, as an afterthought, I asked, “Did she mention Belle?”

“Not then.”

Reporters are persistent. It's not a habit you lose. “When?”

“The night before. There was a dinner in Belle's honor at the Adolphus. Some donation she'd made. And when Belle walked up to receive the plaque, CeeCee had a strange look on her face—half sad and half mad. She said, ‘I won't see Mother taken advantage of. It's just rotten. I won't!' Then Belle began to speak. After dinner, CeeCee left with Stan. So
I didn't have a chance to ask her what she meant. But that was the night before.”

The next morning, CeeCee asked her mother what she would do if someone she loved was unfaithful. That evening CeeCee drove up to the lake. Belle would be coming. There would be ample opportunity for CeeCee to speak with her mother. And tell her that her husband was an adulterer?

Rotten. Yes, that put it very well indeed.

 

Joss sprawled on a chaise deep in the shadow of an arbor covered with bougainvillea. I stepped into the dusky enclosure. I looked around.

He opened his eyes, regarded me without enthusiasm. “If you're looking for Stan, he's gone.”

“You lost?”

“The bastard's serve jumps around like a clown on a pogo stick.” He mopped his face with a towel.

“Really? I'd have thought he'd go for power.”

“Oh, he does,” Joss said sourly. “Just about the time you've got the damn corkscrew serve figured out, he barrels one right down the center line.”

“Stan found out about CeeCee and Wheeler. Just before she went to the lake.”

Joss pushed up, swung his feet to the flagstones, scrubbed his wet hair with the towel. Then he stood, grabbing his racquet. “Should be a pretty choice part of your book. Sex sells every time.” His parting glance was derisive.

As he walked past, I said, “So maybe you didn't have to lie for Anders.”

He shook his head and kept on walking.

I listened as the sound of his footsteps faded.

Did Joss confirm Peggy's story that CeeCee agreed to the animal refuge because he was afraid for Anders, afraid for the driven brother who cared more about animals than people?

Or did Joss lie because he knew very well that Anders was innocent? If Joss killed CeeCee to gain his freedom to go to Hollywood, he knew better than anyone in the world that Anders was innocent.

Had Joss really told CeeCee he was leaving the foundation? No one else knew of it. And it was becoming clear to me that this close-knit group of siblings and stepsiblings knew a very great deal about one another.

If only I could pull from one, then another, enough scraps of knowledge to piece together what happened to CeeCee as she waited for the joke to unfold that chilly spring evening at the lake.

 

We stood on the lanai outside Belle's office. On the day I arrived at Ahiahi, she had pointed to the grove of kukui trees where Richard's body had been found. I glanced down at the light-colored leaves, then faced Belle.