Carol Higgins Clark Boxed Set - Volume 1: This eBook collection contains Zapped, Cursed, and Wrecked. (42 page)

“I did,” Dennis said quickly.

Eileen looked at him. “Wait a minute, Jack. Dennis, what are you talking about?”

“Remember I ran into the post office the morning we left? That woman was standing in line to mail a package. I realized that she was the woman we’d seen crossing the Carpenters’ yard after she went rowing. I said hello and introduced myself. But she obviously didn’t want to talk to me. That was it.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“When I got back in the car, you and the Bennets were in the middle of a conversation. Then I guess I forgot. It was no big deal.”

“It might be,” Eileen said, handing her husband the phone. “Tell Jack.”

An answering machine picked up at the Carpenters’ home outside of Boston. Jack left a message to please call him back at his parents’ house on the Cape as soon as possible. When he hung up the phone, he looked at Barnes, who was now in the kitchen.

“The Carpenters aren’t home. But there’s a key here that Mrs. Carpenter gave my mother to use in case of emergencies. I’d call this an emergency.”

“I would too,” Barnes agreed.

Five minutes later Jack and Regan went back with Barnes and Malone to the Carpenters’ home. Ginny and Fran had volunteered to join them, but Barnes politely nixed the suggestion. They stayed at the Reillys’ with Skip, who remained on the couch, wringing his hands and looking glum.

The rain was coming down in sheets. They assumed Hopkins had come out the back door, so they wanted to go in that way, in an effort to retrace her steps. The group hurried up onto the deck and over to the door. The Carpenters’ ranch-style home had been built in the 1950s on property that was now
much more valuable than the house itself. If it were ever sold, Regan was sure that a wrecking ball would roll down the block within minutes. Jack’s parents had had first dibs on buying it several years ago when the last owner decided to move. He offered to sell it to them for a price that in retrospect was a bargain. To their everlasting regret, they decided against it. Not long after, the price of waterfront property skyrocketed. Then their children started to marry and produce grandchildren. It would have been a perfect spot to build a guest house for their expanding family. Regan was always amused at how much Eileen reminded her of Nora when she got that wistful look and said, “If only we’d used our heads. We let it slip through our fingers . . .”

Jack was about to put the key in the door, but turned the knob first. The door was locked. Quickly he unlocked it.

They stepped into the small kitchen. The light was on. The appliances and cabinets were old, the floor a tired linoleum. It was almost like stepping back in time. The room was clean but had a worn look. The coffeemaker was on the counter, the carafe was half full. A mug, silverware, and a plate with crumbs were in the kitchen sink.

“Looks like she had breakfast,” Regan said.

“Which at least would mean she wasn’t out there on the beach all night,” Jack said quietly.

“How well do you know that caretaker?” Barnes asked.

Jack shrugged. “My mother knows him better. She says he’s a good kid trying to find his place in the world. He loves to show up at the house when my family is around and do jobs that could have gotten done when we weren’t here.”

“I’m glad he doesn’t want to be a doctor,” Barnes observed. “It sounds like it was the sight of blood that made him run away.”

Regan pushed a swinging door that opened onto the dining room. Piles of cards and envelopes were lined up neatly on the table. Regan walked over and picked up one of the cards. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she read aloud. A quick look revealed that all the cards expressed the same sentiment. Oh boy, Regan thought. If she’s making this many apologies, she must have had a lot of enemies.

“I’m sorry cards?” Officer Malone asked as he picked up a sheet of paper with at least fifty names scribbled on it. First names only. “This is longer than my Christmas card list.”

“No wonder this woman was a recluse,” Regan said. “She probably was afraid she’d do something else she’d have to apologize for.”

Jack looked at her.

“I’m serious, Jack. This woman was obviously guilt ridden.”

“I thought love meant never having to say you’re sorry,” Barnes said wryly.

“That’s bad,” Malone said.

“I know.”

The living room was right off the dining room. Three large plastic bags were on the floor in one corner of the room. Barnes reached for one of the bags and pulled out a decorative pillow. An index card with a note “To be picked up by Adele Hopkins” was stapled to the bag. He frowned. Embroidered on the pillow was the expression
GRUDGE ME, GRUDGE ME NOT
. All the pillows in the bags were exactly the same.

A pile of books took up most of the coffee table:
WAS I BORN RUDE?, Twelve Steps to Overcoming Irritability
, and various guides on becoming a better person through diet, exercise, meditation, and travel.

“Who was this woman?” Regan asked rhetorically. “I can’t wait to hear what the Carpenters know about her.”

The master bedroom was neat. The contents of the closet revealed a spartan wardrobe of plain pants and sweaters and blouses in drab colors. In the bathroom her toiletries were minimal.

“She was renting this house during the off-season,” Regan said. “It’s almost as if she were using it as a private retreat.”

“It doesn’t seem like too many people would have missed her,” Barnes said. “Things here are strange, but not suspicious. A woman full of guilt and anxiety fell down the steps in the middle of one of the worst storms in years. I’m sure she had enemies, but given the circumstances, this appears to be an accident. There are accidents all over the Cape. What we have to find is information that will help us get in touch with the family in case the Carpenters are on a cruise to nowhere.”

“Maybe being out in that rowboat of hers was a form of penance,” Malone suggested. “If she suffered it would somehow make up for what she’d done to others.”

Barnes looked at his partner with a bemused expression. “My guess is she enjoyed rowing. Plain and simple.”

“I can see what you’re saying,” Regan said to Malone.

“Thank you.”

“That’s good,” Barnes said. “The two of you can hash it out later over coffee.”

They all chuckled.

“Now, I’ve never met a woman who didn’t have a purse,” Barnes said. “If Hopkins was just going down to the beach, she probably wouldn’t have brought it with her.”

They walked back down the hallway and spotted Mrs. Hopkins’s purse under the dining room table, but it didn’t contain a wallet or keys. There was no sign of a cell phone anywhere.

Barnes cleared his throat. “If the Carpenters don’t call you
back soon, we can try to get in touch with the real estate agents around here and find out who handled the rental. Hopkins must have listed someone to get in touch with in case of emergency. But for now we’ve got to get going. My boss said we’re getting a ton of calls. It’s going to be one long day.”

“We’ll be in touch as soon as we hear something,” Jack promised.

Regan looked over at the bags of pillows. The name of the store—Pillow Talk—was emblazoned in bold blue letters on each bag. Regan remembered passing the small storefront on the way in last night. It’s a few towns over, she remembered. Turning to Jack, she asked, “If we don’t hear back from the carpenters soon, do you want to take a ride over to the pillow store? If Hopkins bought this many pillows about grudges, maybe the salesperson remembers her. You never know.”

“Good idea,” he said, then smiled. “What about our guests?”

“Skip’s the only one I’m worried about. Maybe he’ll want to come with us.” She sighed. “I’m afraid he’s never going to get over this.”

A huge wave crashed over Adele Hopkins. She felt herself gaining consciousness as the churning water started to carry her body, like she was on a speeding train. Terrified, she opened her mouth to scream for help and nearly choked on the salt water that flooded in. What’s happening? she thought, starting to flail her arms wildly. Am I dreaming? Am I going to drown? She had always loved the sea but now it was her enemy. I’ve got to fight, she told herself. Drawing all the strength she could, she managed to lift her head above the water. With great relief she realized that she hadn’t been pulled out to sea. The tide was all the way in.

She reached down. Her hand was able to skim the sand as the water carried her down the beach. If I can just stand up, she thought. The power of the wave started to subside and she struggled to her feet. I have a chance, she realized, as she started running desperately through the water toward the rocks. She saw a staircase nearby. It didn’t look familiar. She felt disoriented and had no idea how far down the beach she’d traveled. Shivering, she grabbed the banister and made her way up the steps. Her heart was pounding. At the top there was a house set farther back than most of the houses on the water, with a
large back lawn, no deck. I’m going to faint, she thought, fighting a wave of dizziness as she made her way toward the house. Was that a man looking out the window?

Suddenly the door opened. She staggered toward it.

“What are you doing, woman?” a man’s voice called as he came out the door and ran toward her. He put his arm around her waist and helped her to his house. “This is no day to be out on the beach.”

“I know . . .” Adele started to say. “I just . . .”

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” he asked as they stepped into his kitchen.

“No,” she said. “No.”

“Your face is all banged up.”

“I fell,” she said. “I think I broke my nose but I’m okay. I live near here. I’ll just go home.” She felt such a sense of relief. This man was being so kind to her. The house was so warm and cozy. There was a delicious scent of coffee in the air. Soft classical music was playing on a radio. Why had she never seen this man before? He had a thick mane of white hair, a mustache, and the kindest face. I don’t deserve this, she thought.

“Is there someone there to take care of you?” he asked.

Adele almost laughed. “No,” she answered. “I live alone. I rented a house up here for the winter. When I fell I must have landed on the beach and then was carried away by a wave, I guess . . .”

“You’re going to get pneumonia,” he said fretfully. “You shouldn’t be alone. Go in the bathroom and take a hot shower. I’ll get you some clothes and a bathrobe to warm you up.”

Adele didn’t protest. A moment later she was gazing in disbelief at her reflection in the mirror of the medicine cabinet. Her hair was plastered to her scalp. There were cuts all over
her face and her nose was slightly swollen. What happened? she wondered. I was coming down the steps. How did I fall? She took off her soaking wet clothes and wrapped a towel around her taut frame. Her teeth were chattering.

The man knocked on the door. She opened it a crack. “Here,” he said, handing her a sweat suit, socks, and a fluffy bathrobe. “Get in the shower. You must be chilled to the bone. There’s bacitracin in the cabinet. Dab it on those cuts on your face.”

As if she were in a dream, Adele did as she was told. The man could be an ax murderer, but right now she didn’t care. The hot water felt so good on her achy bones. I could have died out there, she thought. I must have been knocked out when I fell. But I don’t want to go to a doctor. I want to stay right here. After several minutes she turned off the water, dried off, and got dressed. Not much I can do with my hair, she thought, applying the bacitracin to her face. Finally she opened the bathroom door and went out into the cozy living room. Bookshelves lined the room and a colorful crocheted rug covered the floor.