Fatal Fixer-Upper (13 page)

I intended it as a rhetorical question, but Derek chose to answer it. 'That's what I'd like to know, too.'

A beat passed—was he serious?—and then I said,

'Couldn't it have been an accident? A power surge, something like that?'

'Anything's possible.' But it didn't sound like he meant it. 'So you came home, and the lights were out. Then what happened?'

'Then I thought about going to bed and calling you to come and deal with it this morning, but I was afraid of what you'd think of me if you found out that I'd been too chicken to go down to the basement by myself. So I lit a candle and headed down, and when I leaned on the railing, it broke.'

Derek nodded. 'I saw the pieces.'

'I'm sure you did. And I think you ought to have taken care of it before now. I'm paying you to take care of things like that. If you knew it was unsafe, you should have fixed it.'

'If it had been unsafe, I would have fixed it,' Derek said.

'There was nothing wrong with those stairs yesterday.'

He looked at me. His eyes were clear and guileless, and I decided that he was either honest or a much better liar than I gave him credit for. 'A power outage couldn't have done that,' I said.

Derek shook his head. It sounded like he was implying that someone had been in my house last night and had turned off my lights and tampered with my stairs. But who could have done such a thing? And why?

A name came immediately to mind. Or rather, two. If what happened was anything but an accident, it was probably caused by one or both of the Stenham brothers, trying to scare me out of town. Randy had brought up the possibility of accidents. He hadn't specifically mentioned the danger of my falling down the stairs and breaking my neck, but he had warned me about all the things that could go wrong in an old house and said I should get out of Waterfield while I could. And since the Stenhams were family, it wasn't impossible that they had a key to Aunt Inga's house and could come and go at will.

If it wasn't the Stenhams, maybe it was Melissa James; not that I could picture the elegant realtor crawling around my basement in her designer suit and Manolo Blahniks. But Kate had mentioned Melissa's temper and said that she wasn't above a bit of vandalism when in a mood, and she certainly did seem set on selling my house. Her last words to me on Thursday had been to take care of myself. I probably shouldn't discount her entirely, although I had no idea how she might have gotten in.

Much as I disliked the idea, I couldn't totally discount Derek as a suspect, either. Of everyone, he'd had the best opportunity to rig the stairs. Everyone else would have had to break in, but he'd been here all day yesterday already. Working in the basement, no less. I'd heard him banging and cursing down there, but I certainly hadn't checked up on him, and I had no idea what he'd been doing. For all I knew, he could have been sabotaging my stairs while I was scraping wallpaper in the hallway above his head. But there was nothing in it for him, was there?

I shook my head. 'Surely not even the Stenhams are stupid enough to try to hurt me just so they can get their hands on Aunt Inga's house. And when it comes to Melissa James . . .'

Derek's eyes narrowed. 'What about Melissa James?'

I tilted my chin up. 'She was here the other day. Asking for you. Ogling the house.'

'Huh,' Derek said. His face had darkened, and he seemed to be in the throes of an internal struggle.

'What?' I inquired. He scowled at me for a second, then his face cleared and his voice turned dismissive.

'Melissa may be the center of her universe, but she's not stupid. She wouldn't try to hurt you.'

'Dear me,' I answered, annoyed, 'I didn't realize you two were so close. Is she an old flame, or something?'

'Something.' He seemed to chew on his tongue for a moment, and then he added, a little less curtly, 'When was she here?'

'She stopped by on Thursday evening, just after you left. Said she had seen your truck outside, and wanted to know what you were doing here.'

Derek's mouth curved in a faint smile. 'What did you tell her? That I was working on your plumbing?'

Something about the way he said it made a blush creep up into my cheeks. 'As a matter of fact, I guess I did. Sort of.'

Derek chuckled, and I added, not knowing when to quit,

'Let me guess. Did you used to work on her plumbing, too?'

'Happens I did, yeah.' His glance at me was challenging.

'Well,' I said, aware of a feeling of disappointment, 'it sounded like she'd be interested in picking up where you left off. Funny, I wouldn't have thought you two were one another's type. Not that it's any of my business.'

'Let's keep it that way,' Derek said. 'If you're all set, I think I'll head out. I have a couple of errands to run. Anything I can do for you before I go?'

I shook my head.

'In that case, I'll see you later.' He left. Less than a minute later, he was back. 'Is that your bike outside?'

'The one leaning up against the porch? I found it in the shed yesterday. I guess it must have been Aunt Inga's.' Although what my ninety-eight-year-old aunt had been doing with a twenty-six-inch, carbon-frame mountain bike, I had no idea.

'The shed out back?'

I nodded.

'Huh,' Derek said and disappeared again.

I waited until I had heard the impatient roar of his engine before I limped down the hallway to lock the front door.

10

––When there was a knock on the door thirty minutes later, I assumed it was Derek coming back. Grumbling and complaining, I levered myself off the bed and inched my way toward the front door. My progress was slow, and the person outside must have been impatient, because by the time I got to the door, it opened. I came face-to-face with Graham Rodgers, who looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. 'Miss Baker!' he exclaimed. Then his cool, gray eyes widened as he took in my bedraggled appearance, and he stepped back. 'Dear me, what happened?'

'I fell,' I explained. 'Stumbled on the stairs last night, in the dark.'

'Oh, dear.' He winced, looking so perturbed that I hastened to assure him.

'It's not as bad as it looks. No broken bones, no major injuries. Derek took me to see his dad, and Dr. Ben said I'll be sore for a week, but otherwise I'm fine.'

'That's wonderful,' Mr. Rodgers said. 'My apologies, Miss Baker, for barging in like this. I came to ask if Mr. Todd stopped by yesterday, and when no one answered the door, I became concerned.'

'No problem. If Derek hadn't happened to come to work this morning and found me, you might have had the pleasure of taking me to the doctor yourself.' I smiled. After a moment, Mr. Rodgers smiled back a little stiffly, as if the sensation wasn't familiar to him. I continued, 'But yes, Mr. Todd came by yesterday. He gave me a quote on the grass and said he'd be back Monday or Tuesday to mow.'

'Excellent,' Mr. Rodgers said, taking another step back.

'In that case, I shall go and leave you alone. You should rest, Miss Baker.'

'I intend to,' I said. 'Before you go, though . . .'

'Yes?'

'I was wondering if you might be willing to answer a question for me.'

Mr. Rodgers indicated, in his lawyerly way, that it would depend on the question, but that he'd be pleased to listen and then determine whether he could, in fact, tell me what I wanted to know. I hesitated, trying to form the question in a way that wouldn't give offense.

'The first time we met, you said that you had already drawn up a will for my aunt Inga many years ago.' Mr. Rodgers nodded, his thin face wary. 'I was wondering if you'd be able to tell me anything about it.'

'I'm afraid not, Miss Baker,' Mr. Rodgers said. 'That information is protected under the attorney-client privilege.'

'Even if Aunt Inga is dead?'

Mr. Rodgers inclined his head. 'May I ask why you desire to know?'

'Oh,' I said, 'I was just thinking. If the beneficiary of that will was resentful of Aunt Inga's new will, and of me inheriting everything, I thought maybe that person could be behind all the things that have happened to me. The threatening letter, the broken dishes, the stairs . . .'

I glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. Mr. Rodgers's gray eyes were opaque behind the lenses of his glasses, and his face was impassive, giving nothing away.

'I guess I could just suggest it to Wayne Rasmussen,' I added, when he displayed no reaction at all. 'See if he can figure it out.'

'That won't be necessary, Miss Baker.' Mr. Rodgers's voice was cool. I guess he didn't appreciate my gentle blackmail. 'The beneficiary under Miss Morton's first will was her cousin, Catherine Kendall. When Mrs. Kendall passed away, a new will was drafted, with an old friend as the beneficiary. This person is also now deceased. I assure you, he has not come back from the grave to cause harm.'

'Oh.' I blushed, feeling ashamed of myself. 'I'm sorry.'

'Indeed. And now, Miss Baker, if you will excuse me.'

He stepped back out onto the porch.

'Sure,' I said. 'Sorry, Mr. Rodgers. I didn't mean to upset you. Have a nice weekend.'

'And you, also, Miss Baker,' Mr. Rodgers said, but he didn't sound like he meant it. He turned and walked down the buried walkway to his Cadillac, back straight. I closed the door, feeling like a heel.

. . .

I had barely made it into Aunt Inga's room and onto the bed when there was another knock on the door. This time I was sure it was Derek returning, and as I shuffled along the hallway, I was already planning what I was going to say to him in return for making me come open the door yet again. But I was thwarted once more: this time I found Kate McGillicutty and Wayne Rasmussen on the welcome mat. Both of them looked concerned, and both of them looked at me like they thought they had reason to be.

'You look like hell,' Kate said bluntly.

Wayne glanced at her, amusement lighting his dark eyes.

They were both casually dressed in jeans and sneakers, she with a green blouse that made the most of her vivid coloring, and he in a short-sleeved, gray T-shirt that brought out the platinum streaks in his dark hair. It was the first time I'd seen the chief of police in anything but a uniform, and it took some getting used to.

Kate added, a little more kindly, 'How are you feeling?'

'The way I look,' I answered, rubbing my scabby nose irritably. 'Like I got dragged backward through a hedge.'

Or fell down a staircase onto a dirt floor in the dark.

'Have you seen a doctor?' This was Wayne's contribution.

I nodded. 'Derek took me to see his dad. Dr. Ben said to take it easy and stay off my knee. I was supposed to buy a knee brace, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. Come on in, and let's sit down.' I moved aside.

'There's a key in the door,' Wayne pointed out as he stepped over the threshold. He pulled it out and handed it to me.

'It must be Mr. Rodgers's key. He was just here.' I dropped it in the desk drawer.

Wayne picked up the conversation when we were all seated on Aunt Inga's uncomfortable parlor furniture, me on the straight-backed desk chair upholstered in nubby tweed, and the two of them side by side on the worn, gray love seat. I hoped most of the cat hair would stay where it was and not stick to the chief's posterior when he left.

'Where's Derek now?'

'Running errands. He didn't say what or where, and I didn't ask. Did he call you?' Someone had to have called the police, and it hadn't been me.

Wayne nodded. 'Tell me what happened.' He might be wearing civilian clothes, on his way home from a little league game or headed out to lunch with his lady friend, but he had pulled the policeman's notebook and pencil from his jeans pocket and was ready to take notes. 'From the beginning.'

Presumably Derek had given him the basics over the phone, but I repeated the story, with all the details I could remember.

'Derek seemed to think that someone had done it on purpose,' the chief remarked when I was done. I nodded. 'So he said. Although that doesn't make any sense. I don't have any enemies, and though there are a lot of people who seem to want my house, it's not like I'd give it to them if I got hurt and had to leave town. I'd give it to Mr. Rodgers to manage before I'd hand it over to the Stenhams or Melissa.'

'Sounds like you're pretty sure the Stenham brothers are behind it,' Wayne said.

I shrugged, not too apologetically. After the other night, I didn't feel too bad about shopping the Stenhams to the police. Randy had done his best to intimidate me, and as far as I was concerned, he deserved what he got, whether he was behind my accident or not. 'I ran into Randy the other day, and he threatened me. Said I should get out of town while I still could.'

Kate glanced at her boyfriend. 'Sounds like you might want to have another talk with Ray and Randy, love.'

Wayne nodded. 'What were you saying about Melissa James, Avery?'

I shrugged. 'She was here the other day. Asking questions. Wondering if I'd gotten in over my head yet. Telling me that whenever I want to sell the house, she's got someone lined up to buy it. Oh yes, and making snide comments about Derek. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was jealous.'

Wayne's lips quirked, and Kate snorted. They exchanged a look. Kate opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Wayne got to his feet. 'If you girls are gonna gossip, I'm leaving. To the basement to take a look at your stairs, specifically.' He nodded to me.

'Be my guest,' I answered, watching him walk out of the room on long legs. 'Watch your step on the second riser, it's loose.'

I turned back to Kate, who was watching me with a grin on her face.

'So,' she said, 'what's going on with you and Derek?'

'What do you mean?' I answered promptly. 'Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's a nice guy, I'm sure, but not my type.' And not actually that nice, either. He'd been helpful enough about getting me to the doctor and back home again this morning, although I could have done without being carried over his shoulder like a sack of feed.

'So why are you interested in him and Melissa?'

'I'm not,' I said. 'I'm just surprised that she'd be interested in him. Or vice versa. I wouldn't have thought they'd have a lot in common.'

'You'd be surprised,' Kate informed me. 'That's how Melissa ended up here, being a guiding light to all of Waterfield.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'They used to be married, didn't you know? Met in college, had a whirlwind romance—I can quite see how Melissa could sweep a man off his feet if she tried, can't you?—and then they got married, and when Derek finished his residency, they came back here.'

'Married?' I repeated stupidly. 'Residency?'

'He studied medicine. Planned to take over his dad's practice. Went through medical school, did his residency and everything, and then decided he was happier being a handyman.'

'I'm not surprised, since his bedside manner is a little lacking.' I smiled, doing my best to keep my cool in spite of the fact that I was so surprised I could hardly speak. So much for the small-town carpenter I thought I'd met. Kate grinned. 'From what I've heard, his bedside manner isn't lacking at all.'

I forced back a blush. 'You know what I mean. So what happened? They're not married anymore, are they?'

'Oh, no.' She shook her head. 'The marriage lasted a total of four or five years, I think. Most of it while he was a resident. With the crazy schedule he kept, I guess they never spent enough time together to get sick of each other. But then they got back here and settled into a normal life, and they decided they didn't have much in common after all. It wasn't much later that Melissa started dating Ray Stenham.'

'Melissa's dating Ray Stenham?'

Kate nodded.

'Gosh,' I said and fell silent. This explained Derek's cryptic statement to Randy the other day that under the circumstances, they were almost family. Melissa was Derek's ex-wife, and now she was dating my cousin Ray. No wonder Derek hated the Stenhams. And no wonder he acted so weird whenever I mentioned Melissa's name. I guessed maybe Melissa still felt a proprietary interest in him, and that was why she'd been checking up on him. It would be only too easy to start feeling bad for him, being jilted like that, and I reminded myself to stay vigilant against any undue sympathy. Whatever had happened in his personal life, he was still on my suspect list. 'You don't suppose
he
could have . . . ?'

'Could have what?'

'The stairs, the basement . . . ?'

Kate opened her hazel eyes wide. 'Derek? I wouldn't think so. Why would he want to hurt you?'

I shrugged. 'No idea. He's here, that's all. Whoever did it had to have gotten in somehow. I've lived in New York my whole life; I don't leave my doors unlocked. What about Melissa? Could you see her breaking into my house and sabotaging my basement stairs?'

'Sooner than I could see Derek doing it,' Kate said loyally.

'Is she still interested in him, do you think?' If so, she might have misunderstood our relationship and thought she needed to get rid of me.

'As far as I know,' Kate said, 'she's content with Ray for now. That's not to say that it wouldn't gratify her to no end to think that Derek was still carrying a torch for her.'

I nodded. I could certainly understand that. It would be gratifying to me to have Philippe come crawling back begging for forgiveness, too. Not that I'd grant it. At least I didn't think so.

'But he's not, right?'

Kate shrugged. 'Who knows? If he is, he hasn't said anything about it. He's had a few dates since the divorce, but nothing serious. I never thought it might be because he's still in love with Melissa, but I suppose anything's possible.'

'Great,' I said with a grimace, then turned as Wayne came back down the hall toward us. He stopped in the doorway.

'This bicycle Derek mentioned, is it in the dooryard?'

'Bicycle?' Kate repeated.

'I found it in the shed in the backyard yesterday,' I said.

'It's in the front yard now, leaning up against the side of the porch. I rode it last night.'

Wayne headed for the door, and I added, to Kate, 'It's a little big for me. If Aunt Inga rode it, she must have been considerably taller than I am.'

'She was taller than you,' Kate said, measuring me with her eyes, 'but not by that much. A couple of inches, maybe. You're on the short side, and she was tall for a woman born almost a hundred years ago. About average height these days, I'd say. But it can't be her bike. She could barely keep her balance walking; there's no way she'd be able to ride anything. Unless . . . it isn't a three-wheeler, is it?'