Arsenic with Austen (15 page)

Since her booth here offered no refuge, she finished her latte quickly and moved on, heading vaguely toward Luke's office—not with any real purpose, just drawn there by the magnet of his presence. Passing City Hall, which she'd expect to be deserted on a Saturday, she caught movement through one of the windows and decided on a whim to go in.

The door was not locked, but the receptionist's desk was unoccupied. The inner door to the mayor's office showed a crack of light.

Acting on instinct, she padded silently up to the door, paused, then pushed it open. Mayor Trimble and Vicki Landau had their heads together in front of a table by the far wall. They sprang apart when they saw her; then, in a move that looked rehearsed, both turned and leaned their backsides against the table, blocking Emily's view. But in the instant before they closed ranks, she glimpsed something that looked like an architectural model.

Emily cast about for an excuse to give for her presence—something that would both disarm them and force at least one of them to move away from the table, if only momentarily. “Oh, hello—I was just passing and saw the light, so I thought I'd pop in and ask a favor. I'm going to need a new housekeeper. I thought one of you might know someone, or at least know how I could go about advertising. Is there a community job board or anything?”

Vicki merely glared at her, but Trimble licked his lips, eyes darting about the room. “I, uh—I might know someone. I'll get in touch with her and give you a call, get it?”

“Couldn't you call her right now?” That would require him to cross over to his desk and leave the table unguarded.

“Uh, no, not now. Wouldn't be home, get it? She—uh—she works on Saturdays.”

“But if she has a job already, why would she want to be my housekeeper?”

“No, no. No job, just—busy, that's all. Busy. Call her tomorrow.”

“What about you, Vicki? Do you know of any prospects?”

Vicki crossed her arms and tapped her red-lacquered fingernails against her elbow. “Anyone who'd want to keep house for
you
? No. Not likely you'll find anyone around here who wants to be stuck in that mausoleum a mile from town. Especially with Agnes likely haunting it. You'd be much better off selling.”

Emily had a fleeting vision of Agnes's ghost hovering over the new housekeeper's shoulder, short-sheeting the beds and making her cakes fall. But this was no time for either spookiness or levity.

She spotted the current
Wave
on the mayor's desk, which stood under the window at right angles to the mysterious table. “Mind if I check your want ads? Just in case.” She headed toward the desk.

The mayor darted forward as if to head her off, then leaped back to shield the end of the table that faced toward the desk. Vicki slid over to take his previous position, blocking both sides of the corner from Emily's view. But in the shuffle, Emily caught a glimpse of the whole model.

It showed a stretch of coastline that looked just like Stony Beach. But at the north end of town, where her property—the greenbelt and then Windy Corner—should have been, she saw what looked like a huge hotel surrounded by a golf course, tennis courts, condos … the works.

Emily called on all her drama training from high school to act as if she'd seen nothing. She turned to the desk, unfolded the
Wave,
and paged through it, pausing at the classified section but not taking in a word of it. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then turned back. “Nothing there. Well, I'll hope to hear from you tomorrow, Mayor Trimble. Thanks for your trouble. I'll let myself out.” She strode from the room without looking back.

Safely outside the building, she leaned against the shingles, her breath coming in short gasps. So this was what they had planned! Not just opening up property for anyone who might want to come in and build, but a full-scale luxury resort. On
her land
. That model—and the preliminary architect's work it was based on—must have cost a pretty penny. How could they make an investment like that without even a reasonable hope that the property would ever be theirs?

Only one answer to that. They must have believed they had a reasonable hope.

Emily fairly ran up Third Street to Luke's office. She shoved open the door to see one of his young officers at the front desk, staring at a computer screen. “I have to see Lieutenant Richards,” she blurted, and made for the inner door, ignoring the young man's protests.

Luke was similarly engrossed at his computer but stood when she burst in. She leaned her hands on his desk, panting. “You won't believe what I just saw.”

“Here, sit down. Take your time.” He pushed a chair up behind her and poured her a glass of water. She sipped and then told him between gasps.

Luke frowned. “That's motive if I ever saw one. And plenty of opportunity, both for Agnes and Beatrice. But where's the goddamned
proof
?” He thumped his fist on the desk. The papers that littered it jumped, and so did Emily.

“No joy on the background checks and whatnot?”

“None so far. But we've mostly been working on Brock. This puts our fine mayor in the lead as far as I'm concerned.”

Emily chewed her lip. “Maybe we should have dinner at the same place they all ate the night Beatrice got sick. See if anybody remembers anything they might have overlooked before.”

“That's where I was planning to take you anyway. Only four-star restaurant in the county. But I didn't want it to be a working meal.”

“There is no real off duty until the case is solved. Isn't that what they teach you in sheriff school?”

“No such thing as sheriff school, but yeah. Only it shouldn't have to apply to you.”

“Are you kidding? I'm in this up to my topknot. I won't be able to relax until we nail this killer, whoever he is.”

 

sixteen

Her heart was affectionate, her disposition cheerful and open, without conceit or affectation of any kind—her manners just removed from the awkwardness and shyness of a girl; her person pleasing, and, when in good looks, pretty.

—
Northanger Abbey

Emily arrived at Windy Corner at about eleven, and ten minutes later the doorbell rang.

On the porch stood a young woman—hardly more than a girl. Her thick brown hair was pulled back from her fresh, pretty, un-made-up face. She bit her lip and rocked from foot to foot.

“Mrs. Cavanaugh? I'm Katie Parker. I heard about Agnes Beech—I'm so sorry—and I'm sorry to burst in on you like this—but I was wondering if you'd be needing a new housekeeper?”

Emily was taken aback. Had the mayor acted so quickly after all? Or was this girl's appearance a blessed coincidence? “Come in, won't you?”

Katie stepped over the threshold and stood there, looking around her. “Wow,” she said in a breathless voice. “I've never been in here before. I knew it was big, but I didn't realize it was so— Wow.”

Emily's mouth quirked. “Do you still want to apply for the job? It is rather a lot of house to take care of, but then there's only me living here, and I'm not too demanding.”

Katie whipped her head around to face Emily. “Oh, I want the job. I need the job. I'm young and strong and I'm careful; I won't break anything. I'm a good cook, too. And I learn fast. I can learn to do anything you want me to do.”

Emily hesitated. “So—are you saying you don't have any actual experience as a paid housekeeper?”

“Well, not exactly. I've worked as a maid at the Driftwood, and I did one summer as a waitress at the Fluke. I'm the oldest of seven, so I always had to help my mom a lot at home.”

“I see. I really hate to cook for myself, so I'd need you here from about seven in the morning till seven at night, say six days a week. You wouldn't be busy every minute, but you'd need to be mostly here. Are you willing to put in those hours? It wouldn't leave you much time for a social life.”

“Oh, I don't care about that. In fact”—Katie bit her lip again—“well, I was kind of hoping I could live in. Like Agnes did.”

“Don't your parents live locally?”

“Yeah, but like I said, there's seven of us, and it's pretty crowded. And besides…” Katie paused, wringing her hands. From somewhere outside Emily heard a muffled cry.

Katie's face contorted. “Oh shoot, I was hoping she'd stay asleep. The thing is—I have a baby.”

“A baby! Where is she?”

“I left the stroller up against the porch. I was hoping to get you to say yes first, and then I was going to ask if it was okay to bring her with me.”

“You can't leave her alone down there. Bring her up here right now.”

Katie scurried across the porch and down the steps, then climbed back up holding a bundle of blankets. She parted the blankets, and Emily looked down at the sweetest little face she'd ever seen—deep blue eyes just beginning to widen in wonder at the world, skin so fair as to be translucent, and a curly fuzz of pale reddish hair.

“Oh, she's adorable! But she's tiny—what, a couple of months old?”

“Seven weeks.”

“Seven weeks! Are you sure you're ready to go back to work?”

“I don't have a choice. Her dad's … not in the picture, and my parents…” She blinked and swallowed. “My parents won't let me stay any longer. They kicked us out.” Her lower lip wobbled along with her voice.

Emily put an arm around the girl's shoulders. If things had gone differently for her years ago … But that was beside the point. Katie needed her help.

“What's her name?”

“Elizabeth. I call her Lizzie.”

“Lizzie.” Emily stroked the baby's downy-soft cheek with one finger. “Just like Lizzie Bennet.”

“Yeah, that's who I named her for. I love Jane Austen. I've read all her books three times.”

Emily's heart swelled almost to bursting. A kindred spirit. “I've read them all more times than I can count. But then, I have quite a head start over you.”

She stepped back to look Katie in the eye. “You and Lizzie are welcome here. You can move in today and start work as soon as you're ready.”

Katie's eyes lit up, sparkling through her incipient tears. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Cavanaugh! You're an angel, an absolute angel. Not even in disguise.”

“Did you bring your things with you?” Emily looked around for a car, but the drive was empty.

Katie shook her head. “I don't have a car. We walked up here from town.”

“Well, let's go get your stuff then. Do you have a car seat for Lizzie?”

“Yeah, my cousin gave me her old stroller and the top part lifts out for a car seat.”

“Bring it and let's go.” Emily grabbed her purse and headed to the Cruiser. She had to do this quickly before her sensible Worthing side got the upper hand and convinced her she was insane to take on a teenager with a baby.

*   *   *

Katie directed Emily to the far south end of town, where small dilapidated houses huddled on tiny lots. Emily offered to help carry things, but Katie said, “If you wouldn't mind just staying in the car with Lizzie, that would be great.” So Emily opened the hatch and watched as Katie brought out two suitcases, half a dozen boxes, and a bag of disposable diapers.

“That's all you have? What about a crib?”

“I don't have one. She's been sleeping with me at night. For naps I put her in the stroller.”

“That won't last long. Pretty soon she'll be rolling over, sitting up.” Emily was foggy on just when these things happened, but she'd seen enough babies at church to know they were bound to happen in the first year of life.

“Do you know a lot about babies?” Katie asked, her eyes almost worshipful.

“Nothing at all, I'm afraid. I never had one of my own.” Emily's throat clenched on the words.

“Oh. Well, I've taken care of six younger siblings, so I guess I can cope.”

“Don't your parents have a crib you can use?”

“My youngest brother's still using it.”

“I see. Maybe we can find a crib in the attic.” Beatrice and Horace had never had children, but at some point in the last hundred years, someone must have been born at Windy Corner.

Katie refused to let Emily help carry her things into the downstairs bedroom. Instead Emily carried in a sleeping Lizzie in her car seat and then realized she hadn't yet cleared the room of Agnes's things. She made a quick call to Luke to ask whether it was all right to move them.

“Nah, it's fine,” he said. “We searched it yesterday. Didn't find anything significant, but I didn't expect we would. Say, that's quick work getting a new housekeeper. Just couldn't stand to cook for yourself, huh?” he teased.

“I didn't go looking—she came to me. She needed a place to stay, so I said she could start right away.” She couldn't bring herself to mention the baby.

He laughed. “That's my Emily—taking in all the waifs and strays. You sure she's reliable? Check her references?”

Emily swallowed. Her sensible Worthing side shook its finger in her face. “Actually, she didn't offer any. But if you saw her … She's just a kid, Luke. It's obvious there's not a dishonest bone in her body. And anything she might lack in skill she'll make up for in enthusiasm.”

She could almost hear him shrug. “It's your funeral. At least, I hope not. That just slipped out. Oh God…”

“I know. Too many funerals lately. Speaking of which, will Agnes's body be released in time for a funeral on Monday? That's what Billy's planning.”

“Oh yeah. Cause of death was pretty obvious—no need for a full autopsy. She's on her way to the funeral home now.”

“That's all right then. Any other news?”

“Not yet. We're still plugging away. Fact, I better get back to it. Pick you up at six?”