Читать книгу How Secrets Die - Marta Perry - Страница 12
ОглавлениеTHE FEW BELONGINGS Kate had brought with her were quickly unpacked and stowed away in the cottage. She slid a suitcase into the back of the bedroom closet to get it out of the way. The rest of her things had gone into storage in Baltimore.
She hadn’t taken anything from Tom Reilley’s house except for Jason’s things. The rest had gone to a sale. The fewer reminders of life there, the better, as far as she was concerned.
Jason had probably felt the same way when he’d left his father’s house for the last time. It couldn’t have held too many happy memories for him. Although she hoped he might have cherished, as she did, the after-school hours they’d spent at home together.
Kate walked back into the living room. The cottage was small and compact. The living room had just enough space for a television, sofa and chairs in one end and a bookcase and desk at the other, where she’d immediately set up her computer. Jason would no doubt have set up in the same place. He couldn’t bear to be off-line, and he wanted a laptop for gaming.
If a person liked cottage style, the place was perfectly decorated, with cheerful chintz fabric on the furniture, white end tables and Cape Cod curtains on the windows. There was a small kitchen with a nook for a table and chairs, and a bedroom and bath. The shrubbery and vines she’d noted on the outside increased a sense of isolation, especially where they brushed against the windows.
It was quiet—too quiet for her tastes. She was used to the constant noise and movement of the city. This much solitude would take some getting used to.
Jason wouldn’t have minded it, she knew. As introverted as he’d been, he’d have welcomed it. Close contact with other people stressed him almost beyond bearing. College dorm life must have been a nightmare for him. It had taken time and maturity for her to understand that, but Tom never had. He’d always insisted Jason could be like other kids if he just tried harder.
Small wonder Jason had taken refuge in his fantasy world. There, he could be in control. He could shut out the outside world and focus on the voices in his imagination. If she’d understood that earlier, if his father had grasped it at all...
She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t go back. All she could do for Jason now was find out why he’d died, and the key to that had to be in his video diary.
Reluctantly, Kate turned her laptop on. The video diary had been Jason’s closely guarded secret. She’d known it existed, but she’d never had so much as a glimpse of it until two weeks ago, when she’d started clearing Tom’s house for the sale. It still felt as if she were violating Jason’s privacy by watching it.
She clicked the diary file, and Jason’s face appeared on her screen, looking as he’d so often looked in reality—soft brown hair standing on end as if he’d been running his fingers through it, hazel eyes magnified by his dark-rimmed glasses, his sensitive mouth unsmiling.
The first time she’d watched it she hadn’t been able to get all the way through even one entry—she’d been crying too hard. It wasn’t that much easier now, but at least she was able to control the tears. Now a session of trying to understand just left her wrung out and exhausted, her throat tight, her eyes burning.
Even if it hadn’t been for the grief, understanding would have been difficult, due to Jason’s refusal to be ordinary in referring to people. He almost never used names, instead dubbing the people he met with the identities of the mythic characters from his favorite books and games. Some Kate could understand a little, like the characters from fairy tales or Tolkien’s books, while others left her banging her head against the wall.
Now that she’d met the cast of characters at Laurel Ridge Financial, she might have a chance of identifying the people he referred to. Maybe even begin to understand what was happening in his life that disturbed him so toward the end of that summer that he would have turned to pills to dull the pain. Or to end it permanently.
She’d like to believe the overdose had been accidental. Unfortunately, she couldn’t convince herself of that. Jason had been clean for so long. He knew, if anyone did, the results of combining alcohol with those strong prescription meds.
Telling her stepfather her feelings would just have made the whole situation worse. Better to keep her opinion to herself until—unless—she knew for sure.
She clicked the video to start it, and Jason’s soft, diffident voice sounded, wrenching her heart.
“The King was upset today, and I’m not sure why.” Jason’s eyes were serious, concerned. This had been about midway through his internship. She paused the tape and pulled out a notebook to jot down her impressions.
The King. Well, that would probably be Bart Gordon, wouldn’t it? He seemed to be running things now.
But what had been his position relative to Russell Sheldon? She didn’t know, and such a simple thing could mean a world of difference in interpretation. She noted a query—find out who was in charge when Sheldon was still with the firm. Probably anyone would know. Like Mac Whiting, for instance, but she dismissed the thought. He was the last person she’d go to for help.
A firm knock on the door interrupted her line of thought. Mrs. Anderson again? She’d already been here twice, once with a freshly laundered blanket and again with a loaf of pumpkin bread. It was easy to see why she’d gotten on Jason’s nerves.
Kate got up, then turned back and closed the file she’d been watching. No one need know about the diary, not now, maybe not ever.
She opened the door, prepared to be polite to her landlady, and found the woman from the financial group, Lina Oberlin, waiting.
“Ms. Oberlin.” She was frankly surprised. She’d hoped the woman meant her comment about getting together, but she certainly hadn’t expected a visit so soon. “Please, come in. How did you know where to find me?” She hadn’t said a word about where she was staying while she’d been in the office, had she?
“It’s all over Blackburn House already, I’m afraid.” With a restrained smile, the woman stepped inside. “Please, call me Lina.”
“Lina,” she repeated. “How would anyone at Blackburn House know?” If she sounded a little suspicious, it was nothing to how she felt. Were people watching her?
“Obviously you’re not used to the way news spreads in a place like Laurel Ridge. After all, we’re right next door. I’m sure someone saw you moving in.” Lina shrugged. “People in a small town are interested in their neighbors.”
“Obviously so.” Kate gestured to the sofa. “Please, sit down.”
Lina had apparently come straight from work, since she still wore the tailored suit she’d had on earlier. She sat down, looking around the room with frank curiosity. “This is really quite nice, isn’t it?” Her gaze seemed to linger on the desk, and Kate was relieved that she had closed the file. “I haven’t seen the inside before, but it’s roomier than I’d have expected.”
“You were never inside when Jason lived here?” Kate sat down opposite the woman.
Lina’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “I can just imagine the talk that would have spread if I’d come to visit a young male colleague. I’m afraid financial consultants are expected to be models of rectitude in a place like Laurel Ridge.”
“Yes. I’d say Mr. Gordon made it clear that adverse publicity was frowned on.” She couldn’t seem to keep the resentment from her tone. Gordon’s facile sympathy had disappeared very quickly at any faint suggestion of fault on the part of the firm.
“That’s really why I’ve come so quickly.” Lina leaned forward, her pale face intent. “I’m afraid Bart reacted badly, and I wanted to explain. It’s not entirely his fault, you know. Our clients didn’t like seeing the newspaper stories about one of our staff in such a situation.” She shook her head, rueful. “Sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, but that’s the truth.”
Kate suppressed her irritation as best she could. “I understand being concerned for the reputation of the firm.” But Bart Gordon had overreacted, it seemed to her, and she really wanted to know why.
“But you think he was over-the-top.” Lina seemed to know what she was thinking. “I’m afraid he was so annoyed because he was the one who suggested taking Jason on as an intern. He talked Mr. Sheldon into it. Apparently Jason’s adviser was an old fraternity brother of Bart’s, and Bart agreed as a favor to him. Then, when things went badly...”
She let that trail off, and Kate managed not to point out that things had gone far more badly for Jason than for the firm. She hoped to get information from the woman, not antagonize her.
“Aside from the way it ended, how was Jason doing as an intern? I’m sure you have an opinion, working so closely with him.”
“Well, not really all that closely, I’m afraid. It was actually Russell Sheldon who seemed to take the most interest in Jason. He took the time to work with the young man, and according to him, Jason did very well. He always seemed very conscientious to me—almost too preoccupied with his work at times, I’d say.”
That sounded like Jason. He’d focus on a task to the exclusion of everything else.
“I’m glad Jason found a mentor here. I really should thank Mr. Sheldon personally, then. Is he still living in town?” It would be as good an excuse as any to probe into what the man remembered of Jason’s time here.
Lina looked doubtful. “Yes, Russell Sheldon is quite a fixture in town. Everyone knows him. But I don’t know that it’s a good idea for you to visit him.”
She paused, then seemed to realize she’d have to explain further if she expected Kate to drop the idea.
“The trouble is that Russell has been failing mentally for the past few years. He probably should have retired earlier than he did, to be honest, but he had such a good rapport with our older clients that we hated to see him go. They’d trusted him for years, and it wasn’t easy to convince them that they’d be quite safe in Bart’s hands.”
“Surely a short visit with him wouldn’t hurt...” Kate began, but Lina was already shaking her head.
“I understand the poor man is becoming increasingly erratic. Apparently the least disruption of his usual routine causes him to react very emotionally. In fact, his son has been trying to get him into an assisted living facility. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to cause Mr. Sheldon any distress, and I don’t imagine he even remembers Jason at this point.”
“I see.” Somehow she didn’t think she wanted to take Lina’s word for it, as helpful as she seemed. “I’ve hoped people who knew my brother during those last weeks might have noticed some indication of trouble. Anything that seemed out of his normal routine, any change in his attitude...”
There had to be something—something that had pushed Jason into his final act.
“I wish I could be of more help.” Lina spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “In retrospect I do think Jason seemed a bit more preoccupied than usual toward the end of the summer, but then he’d been sending out résumés and looking for a position, so that’s only natural.”
Kate nodded. In one of his phone calls, they’d talked about the possibility of Jason getting a job near her. He wouldn’t have wanted to move in with her again, but she’d wanted to be close enough to provide some support, at least.
She tried another tack. “I suppose you don’t know any of the friends he made here?”
“I’m afraid not. Jason didn’t seem like the social type. He was more serious than a lot of young men his age.” Lina’s smile seemed to freeze. “I’d be wary of anything Nikki has to say about your brother, by the way. From what I saw, he was usually trying to evade her attentions.”
“Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Well, you don’t need my advice. I’m sure a woman of your experience could see at once just how much you can rely on Nikki for the truth.” A smile warmed her rather restrained manner. “What was she doing when you came in? Filing her nails?”
Kate had to laugh. “Actually, I did spot her doing that earlier.”
“We’d get someone better, but there isn’t really all that much choice. The bright kids take off for college after graduation. At least Nikki knows how to operate the office equipment, and she’s better on the computer than Bart is.” Lina smiled. “Although that’s not saying much.”
“I sometimes think a five-year-old could teach me something new, despite my job.” In the interests of possibly getting more from the woman later, she should respond to any friendship cues.
Lina reached for her bag. “I won’t hold you up any longer, but if there’s anything I can do, please, let me know. Jason’s death must have been a terrible shock as well as a devastating loss.”
The woman’s sympathetic tone got to her, and for a moment Kate considered taking Lina into her confidence. But only for a moment. Her native caution reasserted itself. She didn’t intend to give too much away to anyone in this town, not until she had a better idea of where she stood.
* * *
MAC PULLED INTO his parking space in front of the police station the next day, fuming. The meeting he’d had with the district attorney had been an exercise in frustration. They both knew of the increasing presence of drugs in their community, and of illegal prescription meds in particular. But the problem wasn’t solved by talking about it—or at least, not by talking with a DA who was up for reelection this fall and wanted to be able to show voters he’d been actively involved in fighting drugs. All the DA wanted to do was give lip service to the problem.
Mac spared a passing thought to appreciate the crisp, clear weather that was so typical of fall in Pennsylvania. He didn’t have time to enjoy it today, unfortunately. He headed for the door of the solid redbrick building that had housed the station for the past century. The cement block addition along one side might not have the beauty of the original structure, but it gave much-needed space for police cars as well as the paramedics.
A glance at the clock on the bell tower of Town Hall informed him that the morning was nearly gone, eaten up by talk that led nowhere. Marge Bailey, their dispatcher/receptionist, gave him a sympathetic look as he came in out of the bright fall sunshine. Marge was fond of telling people how she used to babysit for Mac and his brother, and her motherliness with him was balanced by the crisp, no-nonsense way she dealt with police matters.
“No fun?”
He grimaced. “Maybe it’ll satisfy him for the moment, so I can get some work done. Did the state police crime stats come in yet?”
“On your computer.” She glanced toward his office door. “But first, you have a visitor.” Marge rolled her eyes. “Bart Gordon. All het up about something. I told him you were tied up in a meeting, and that if he had something to report, another officer could speak with him, but he insisted on waiting for you.”
“Right.” Bart was one of those people who always had a list of complaints, most of them not police business at all. Looked as if the last shreds of his morning were being swept away. Well, his job was to protect and serve the community, even when they wasted his time.
Mac strode into the office, tossing his cap onto the desk. “’Morning, Bart.”
Bart Gordon shot out of the visitor’s chair that took up too much space in Mac’s tiny office, already crowded with desk, chair and files, made to seem even smaller by the framed photos of various town dignitaries and events that covered most of one wall.
“It’s about time you’re getting back. I’ve been waiting.” Bart looked prosperous, self-satisfied and florid, as usual. He was enough older than Mac that their lives hadn’t really touched at any point.
“Didn’t Marge tell you I was at a meeting with the DA?” he asked blandly. “I’ll have to speak to her about it.”
Taken aback, Bart sat down again. “She mentioned it,” he said reluctantly.
“Well, what can I do for you?” Mac edged around his desk and sat in the creaky swivel chair he’d inherited from his predecessor.
Bart seemed to get up a head of steam again. “Are you aware that Jason Reilley’s sister is in town?” He made it sound like an accusation.
Now, what was there in Kate Beaumont’s presence to make Bart so hot under the collar?
“Yes, I’ve met her.” He kept his voice carefully neutral. “Is there a problem?”
“A problem? When a perfect stranger walks into my office and starts prying into my business?” Bart seemed to take a breath, maybe deciding that wasn’t the way he wanted to present himself. After a moment he leaned forward, an earnest expression on his ruddy face. “Now, Mac, you know I always have the best interest of Laurel Ridge at heart. Adverse publicity about a prominent business like ours can’t do anyone any good. I’m just trying to protect the reputation of our town.”
More intrigued by Bart’s attitude than anything else, Mac raised an eyebrow. “Is Ms. Beaumont threatening you with bad publicity? How?”
“Not exactly.” Bart hesitated as if balancing the wisdom of confiding in the police against his obvious irritation with the Beaumont woman. “But she’s stirring up talk about her unfortunate brother’s death. You know how uncomfortable that was. I think it best that it be forgotten, not dragged into the public eye again.”
In other words, Bart Gordon had the wind up because of Kate Beaumont’s interest in her brother’s death. But why? There’d never been any suggestion of involvement on the part of the company.
“I can’t run the woman out of town because she makes you uncomfortable,” he pointed out.
“I know. But it’s just so inconsiderate. We’ve already dealt with all that unpleasantness, and it certainly wasn’t our fault. If I’d known the boy was likely to go back to drugs, I’d never have agreed to give him a chance.” He was beginning to sound petulant, and Mac’s supply of courtesy was running dangerously low.
He rose, hoping to indicate that the interview was over. “I’ll have a talk with her.”
“Yes, well, I suppose that will have to do.” Bart made it as far as the door before his grievance burst out again. “What does she want here, anyway? And why did it take her over a year to decide she had to come?”
Muttering a soothing word or two, Mac eased him out the door and closed it firmly.
But the question lingered in his mind. Little though he wanted to admit it, Bart Gordon did have a point. Why had Kate Beaumont waited over a year to come to the place where her brother died?
* * *
KATE WALKED THE flagstone path to the cottage, disappointed but not deterred by the failure of her effort to speak to Russell Sheldon. Apparently it was true that the retiree was in poor health, since a caregiver had opened the door at his house and politely but firmly declined Kate’s request to speak to him.
Very firmly—almost as if she’d been warned that Kate might come calling. Someone from the financial office had probably tipped off the woman, and it would be interesting to know who it had been.
She passed into the shade cast by the tall hedge along the side of the bed-and-breakfast, chilled when she stepped out of the bright autumn sunshine. She glanced up. The clear, crisp day seemed to accentuate the bright colors that appeared here and there on the ridge that isolated the town. She wasn’t sure she’d enjoy living in a place where the hills crowded so close.
One refusal didn’t spell the end. The caregiver had to leave sometime. She’d just have to catch Sheldon at a time when he was alone. No good reporter would ever give up after the first rebuff.
The walkway led to the stoop at the front door, where she exchanged the shadow of the hedge for those of the shrubs that overhung the cottage. Had Jason ever felt claustrophobic, living in such an enclosed space?
Kate drew out her keys, her fingers caressing the silver dragon on the key ring before they selected the door key. But when she touched the door, the key wasn’t necessary. The door was unlocked, and it swung soundlessly open a few inches.
She stepped back, her heart pounding. She hadn’t left the cottage unlocked. Double-checking the locks was second nature for someone who’d spent her life in an urban area, and Tom had drilled safety and self-defense into both of them.
No sound came from the cottage, but that didn’t mean it was safe to go in. She threaded her fingers through her keys, almost hearing her stepfather’s voice instructing her, and grasped her cell phone with the other hand. She pushed the door wide with her foot and peered inside, senses alert.
Nothing. At this point, Tom’s instructions would have stressed moving away and calling the police, but she had no desire for another encounter with Mac Whiting.
Kate took a cautious step inside, then another, and listened, holding her breath. After a moment or two, tense muscles began to relax. Whoever had been here must be gone.
Even as she thought it she sensed movement behind her. She whirled, striking out with the hand holding the keys—get out, scream, run—
Iron fingers grabbed her wrist before the blow could land. She froze, face-to-face with Mac, staring breathless into his narrowed eyes. For a long moment they stood very close, and the air seemed to quiver between them.
Then he stepped back, releasing her, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “You always greet visitors that way?”
“Visitors generally knock.” Kate grabbed for the shaken fragments of her composure.
“The door was open.” Whiting took hold of her wrist again, turning it to examine the points of the keys extending through her fingers. “Very effective weapon.”
The touch of his hand made her too aware of the fierce physical presence behind his lazy smile and small-town manner. She drew away, and he didn’t attempt to stop her.
“My stepfather was a cop. He taught us both self-defense.”
“You must have been his star pupil.” He studied her face for a moment. “You want to tell me what this is all about? I was just coming to talk to you. You came into the cottage as if you were expecting an attack.”
Kate turned away, rubbing her fingers against the silver dragon. “I locked the door when I left earlier,” she said shortly. “When I came back just now, it was unlocked.”
“You’re sure?” He shot the question at her.
“Of course I’m sure,” she snapped. “I didn’t grow up in Hicksville. I learned to lock doors as soon as I was tall enough to reach the knob.”
Before she’d finished, he was giving her a firm push toward the door. “Go outside while I check the house.” Without looking to see that she obeyed, he moved toward the bedroom, staying to the side as he opened the door.
Nothing happened. He disappeared into the room. Kate followed to find him surveying the clothes she’d tossed on the bed. Mac gave her a sharp look. “I thought I told you to go outside.”
“I don’t follow orders well.” She glanced around and shrugged. “Doesn’t look as if anything’s disturbed in here.”
He’d moved to the dresser, and she spoke again, impatient.
“I didn’t bring the crown jewels with me this trip. The only thing of value here is my computer.” The computer. She spun and fled back to the other room. The computer still sat on the small side table she’d appropriated to use as a desk.
“It’s still here.” Mac spoke behind her. “So apparently you haven’t been burgled.”
“It’s here.” Quickly she checked her files. Jason’s diary was there, all right.
“Everything okay?” Mac had moved close enough that she felt his breath on her neck when he spoke. Close enough, most likely, to read the titles of the files. She shut the laptop.
“Okay. Except that I left it turned off, and now it’s on.”
But he was already moving to the kitchen, most of it visible from where they stood. “Easy to make a mistake about a thing like that, isn’t it?” he said. “And I think I’ve solved the mystery.” He held something up. “Your burglar left you a present. Smells like nut bread.”
“Mrs. Anderson.” Kate’s jaw was tight, and she struggled to relax it. “She means to be kind, but...”
“But you’d rather she didn’t,” he finished for her. His face took on the amused look that annoyed her so. “I’ve never heard of locking doors to keep out kindness.”
Kate took a deep breath, trying to think of a response that didn’t sound petty. She couldn’t. “Was there some reason you came over, Chief Whiting?”
His smile suggested he knew what she was thinking. “Mac, please. It seems you’ve ruffled the feathers of one of our prominent residents.”
She looked at him blankly for a moment. “Who?” She couldn’t imagine Russell Sheldon’s caregiver going to the police about her visit.
“Bart Gordon seems to think you’re planning to stir up bad publicity for his company.” He raised an eyebrow. “And he’s not yet aware that you’re a reporter.”
That comment seemed to come from left field. “My profession has nothing to do with it. My reasons for being here are purely personal.”
“And they are?”
Her fingers clenched, nails biting into her palms. “I’ve already told you. I want to see the place where my brother spent the last months of his life.”
“Yes, you told me. But I don’t think you mentioned why you waited a year to come.”
If she threw the computer at him, he’d probably arrest her for assault. She glared at him instead. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this is the first opportunity I’ve had to get away from work for any length of time.”
Mac seemed to be weighing her words, his eyes noncommittal.
Nettled, she couldn’t keep from responding to what she suspected was disbelief. “I think that’s all I have to say on the subject. So unless you intend to arrest me for making the good residents of Laurel Ridge think about something they’d rather forget, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”
His smile flickered. “I’ll buy that, for the moment. But if you ever decide to confide in me...”
“I won’t.” Her tone was tart.
“In the meantime, take my advice and steer clear of Bart Gordon. We wouldn’t want him charging you with harassment, would we?” He gave her another extended look, then turned and walked out.
Kate let out a long breath. She hadn’t seen the last of him—there was no doubt of that in her mind.
In the meantime, she had a more immediate problem. Obviously the landlady had come in, bearing food. But would she have started the computer? Somehow Kate didn’t think so.
At least whoever had done so hadn’t been able to get past the password, as far as she could see. But who? And why?
