Dangerous Secrets (17 page)

‶
Were they friends?″

‶
They worked together a long
time ago—at some magazine in New York.″ He shook his head.
‶
She′s
usually great in bed—but now she cries herself to sleep.″

‶
It′s been a stressful
weekend,″ I said.

‶
Yeah, but this started before
Ms. Marshall was murdered.”

I looked at Laura and suddenly realized her
snobbish behavior was only a mask to hide her fear. It rolled off her in waves.
I needed an excuse to touch her to see what else I could get.

Ted′s beer glass was empty.
‶
Can
I get you another?″

‶
I′ll get it.″ He
stepped behind the bar.

Across the room, Laura was thumbing through a
book. I grabbed the half empty-tray of canapés and made a beeline for her.

‶
Would you care for one?″
I asked, shoving the tray under her nose.

She looked up, startled.
‶
No,
thank you.″

‶
They′re very good.″

‶
I don′t care for any.”

I set the tray on the cocktail table and sat
beside her on the loveseat.
‶
Great party, huh?″

She drew back, annoyed.
‶
I suppose it would
be if I didn′t feel like a prisoner here.″

‶
Well, a murder was committed.
And there′s a good chance one of us did it.″

Laura shifted uncomfortably.
‶
I
don′t want to think about it.″

‶
It′ll be okay,″ I
told her.

‶
You mean about Eileen?″

‶
Yes.″

‶
It never was before,″ she
said, bitterness tingeing her voice.
‶
She always took. She tried to
ruin my life—twice—and God help me, I′m not sorry she′s
dead.″ A sudden look of panic entered here eyes. She′d said far too
much.

She was about to bolt. There had to be some way
I could touch her without it looking too obvious. I glanced around. A stack of
old postcards sat on the table next to her.
‶
Would you hand me those.”

Stupid move. I′d witnessed her pain,
ignored it, and looked like an insensitive clod. Yet she picked up the cards. I
made my move—clasping her fingers as I took them from her. She snatched back
her hand, glared at me.

I′d gotten nothing, but to cover my move,
I flipped through the cards.
‶
Susan has some interesting things lying around. I
understand most of it′s for sale, too.″

‶
Yes. If you′ll excuse
me—″ She stood, and went to stand next to Ted, whispering in his ear. He
frowned, irritated, but followed her as she headed for the stairs. Good night,
lovers. Damn. I stared after her, wondering what my next move should be.

Richard conversed with Susan at the bar. She
didn′t easily mingle with her guests, staying on the fringes of the
crowd. Zack was better with public relations while she tended to the business
end of the operation. With their conversation finished, she gave Richard a
half-smile, turned and headed back into her kitchen.

My glass was nearly empty. I wandered over to
the bar and topped up my Coke. Footfalls on the stairs caught my attention, and
I twisted to see a slender pair of legs come into view.

‶
Who′s that?″
Richard whispered.

‶
A reporter. She came by on
Saturday, just before you arrived.″ The woman approached us.
‶
Her
name′s Ashley—″

‶
Samuels,″ she said by way
of introduction, holding out her hand for Richard. He shook it.

‶
This is Dr. Richard
Alpert,″ I said.

She raised an eyebrow, as though she′d
recognized the name.
‶
Nice to meet you.″ Then she turned to me,
holding out her hand. I hesitated. I really didn′t want to touch her, and
shaking her hand might just unleash a flood of information I didn′t want to
know.

She grabbed my hand and a jolt went through me,
the nausea briefly returning. Her expression mirrored her surprise.
‶
Whoa!
Static electricity.″

I retrieved my hand. As expected, I′d
gotten a number of impressions. Although ambitious, I got the feeling she was
basically an honest person. Score one for the good guys.

As if on cue, Susan reappeared.
‶
I′m
sorry, Miss Samuels, but this is a private party. I′m afraid I′m
going to have to ask you to—″

‶
It′s okay,″ Richard
interrupted smoothly, directing all his charm toward the reporter.
‶
We′re
just getting to know one another.″

Susan′s cheeks flushed at his mild
rebuke, but she nodded curtly, and made a hasty retreat back to the kitchen.

‶
Is this your party?″
Ashley asked, sizing up what remained of the food on the side table.

Richard shook his head.
‶
Just a little
icebreaker.″

‶
Why now?″ She moved
around him, reached for one of the puff pastry canapés, and popped it into her
mouth.

‶
It′s been a little
uncomfortable for all the guests these last few days,″ Richard said
politely.

‶
If nothing else, it gives us
one pleasant memory to take away from this god-awful weekend,″ I
suggested.

Ashley chose another appetizer.
‶
I
did a little research on you.”

‶
Me?″ Richard asked.

‶
Both of you. Interesting little
escapade you were involved in last winter—and again in June.″

My stomach knotted.

Richard′s smile evaporated.
‶
I
don′t consider being shot an escapade.″

‶
Do you get involved in murder
on a regular basis, Mr. Resnick?″

‶
I haven′t made it a
hobby. How′d you find out about that?″ I was referring, of course,
to the murder last March back in Buffalo and the death of the guy who held my
job before me. After my skull was fractured during the mugging, I′d been
plagued with visions of a violent death, and felt compelled to find the killer.
It wasn′t something I′d enjoyed at the time, especially when the
killer came after me with a gun, shot and missed—hitting Richard instead. I
wasn′t yet over that guilt trip. The same went for looking into Walt
Kaplan’s death.

Ashley smiled sweetly.
‶
Thanks to Google,
there are very few secrets left in this world.″

‶
It′s not a secret, just
not something I like to go around broadcasting.″ I looked around the
room, lowered my voice.
‶
Let′s not spread these little tales around the
inn, either. Nobody here knows Richard and I are related, and we′d like
to keep it that way.″

Her smile was coy. She took another canapé,
popped it into her mouth then licked her fingers with delight.
‶
The
Buffalo News never really said how you became involved in either of those
cases. Just that you
were
involved.″ She waited expectantly, as though she actually believed
I′d spill my guts.

I stared at her, hoping my calculated, vacant
expression would be answer enough.

It wasn′t.

‶
So?″ she prompted.

‶
It′s not something I care
to discuss,″ Richard said and turned away, probably wishing he′d
let Susan throw the reporter out.

Ashley still expected an answer.

‶
Look, that′s history.
I′d much rather talk about the present. Why don′t you tell me what
you′ve learned about Eileen Marshall?″

‶
Why would I do that?″

‶
Then perhaps we could trade
information.″

‶
So you
are
playing amateur sleuth.″

‶
No. I just happen to be very
nosy.″

‶
A holdover from when you were
an insurance investigator?″

She had dug deeply into my past.

‶
Maybe.″

She looked smug.
‶
What do you want to
know?″

‶
Where was Eileen the morning
before she was murdered?″

‶
What have you got to
offer?″

Her game of cat and mouse was irritating.
‶
Nothing,
I guess.″ I turned away.

‶
Wait.″ She studied my
face.
‶
She
was visiting a lawyer in Waterbury.″

‶
A lawyer?″

‶
Yes. Unfortunately, the man
refuses to divulge why Ms. Marshall was there.″

I thought about it.
‶
How did Eileen get
to Stowe? Did she drive up from Long Island?″

‶
She flew in to Morrisville and
rented a car locally. Look, I can′t believe any of this is of use to
you.″

‶
It helps fill in the
gaps.″

She looked at me quizzically.
‶
What
gaps?″

‶
Like I said—I′m just
nosy. Like you?″

She raised an eyebrow.

‶
Why else would you be a
reporter?″ I added.

She forced a smile.

‶
And you′ve got bigger
ambitions than Burlington. What′s next? Albany?″

‶
Boston. Then New York or
Miami.″

‶
Big-stakes towns. Take my
advice—stay in Vermont. It′s not as glamorous, but—″

‶
Safer? It wasn’t for Eileen
Marshall.″

I shrugged.
‶
Touché.″

She took one last canapé and wiped her fingers
on a cocktail napkin.
‶
It’s time for me to get back to work.″

I watched as she scanned the guests, then homed
in on the DuBois couple. I glanced around and saw Kay Andolina sitting alone in
the farthest corner of the barroom, leafing though a magazine. It was time for
me to go back to work, too.

I picked up the tray of shrimp wrapped in bacon
and walked over to her.
‶
Would you care for one?″

She looked up at me.
‶
No, thank you,
Greg.″

‶
Jeff,″ I said
automatically. She seemed puzzled.
‶
I′m Jeffrey, not
Greg.″

Kay′s eyes filled with tears and she
looked away. I put the tray down on the cocktail table and sat in the chair
opposite her.

‶
Please don′t cry.″

She cleared her throat, wiped her nose, and
braved a smile.
‶
I
... I understand you were in a car accident last night? I hope you′re all
right.″

‶
Yes. But Maggie′s still
in the hospital—″

‶
You really should be more
careful,″ she said, cutting me off. She didn′t like Maggie. I
suppose it didn′t matter why, but it irked me. And yet, I got a strong
impression that she felt some kind of attraction to me.

‶
Those mountain roads can be
treacherous in the rain,″ she cautioned.

‶
Yes, they can.”

She put the magazine down on the stack on the
coffee table, a distracted, far-away look in her eyes.

‶
They said you found me when I
fell down the stairs the other night. Are you a nurse?″

Her expression brightened.
‶
Heavens,
no. But I was the first-aid person at my old job.″

‶
Where was that?″

‶
Burns Tool and Die in Troy, New
York. I was the bookkeeper, but I volunteered for the first-aid position. I
like to help people. The men weren′t often careless, but occasionally
someone would get his hand caught in one of the machines.″

‶
That would be me. I′m not
good with tools.″

‶
It′s lucky the angels
protect you.″

I blinked at her.
‶
Angels?″

‶
Oh, yes. That′s why you
were spared in the accident.″

‶
Spared?″

‶
Of course. You have work to
do.″

‶
What kind of work?″

She smiled kindly, leaned close and pressed a
finger against my lips.
‶
Listen.″

Every muscle in my body tensed.
‶
To
what?″

‶
Listen,″ she repeated
enigmatically.

Obviously I′d completely misjudged her:
she wasn′t a bitch—she was stark raving crazy. Still, she had information
I wanted.

‶
What did Eileen Marshall say
that upset you the other night?″

Her gaze dipped.
‶
I don′t like to speak ill
of the dead.″

‶
It can′t hurt her
now.″

She thought it over, then stared into my eyes,
as though she could look directly into my soul.

‶
She asked me.... This is very
embarrassing.″ She looked away to compose herself.
‶
She
asked me what I thought of a woman who′d have sex with a child.″

That made no sense.
‶
Did you tell the
police about it?″

‶
Yes,″ she admitted.
‶
I
felt it was my duty.″ Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled a tissue
from a pocket and dabbed at her nose.
‶
A woman who′d hurt a
child doesn′t deserve to live.″

Silence seemed the best reply to that.

‶
I ... I didn′t know Ms.
Marshall well enough to judge her,″ she continued.
‶
But
too much drink loosens the tongue. She—she was rude to me. I suppose I
overreacted. I certainly didn′t mean for her to die.″

I stared at her for a moment, then realized
what it was she was saying.
‶
It wasn′t your fault she died.″