Carol Higgins Clark Boxed Set - Volume 1: This eBook collection contains Zapped, Cursed, and Wrecked. (63 page)

“I hate you so much!”

Oh my God, Kit thought. What’s going on?

“I hate you!”

Kit put her hand on the door knob and realized the door wasn’t completely shut. She pushed, and the door started to open. Kit’s blood froze. Straight ahead of her she saw Ellen
on the kitchen floor, a woman trying to strangle her. Kit turned toward the car and screamed,
“Regan! Jack! Help!”
then ran into the house, tore down the hallway, and jumped on the intruder.

“Get off!”
Kit screamed, pummeling the woman with her fists.

“I love Reed Danforth. I am not desperate,”
the woman shrieked, blood running down her cheek.

Ellen tried to keep her grip on the cord with her left hand. She was struggling to breathe.

Kit slapped and punched Ellen’s attacker, but the woman was so crazed she didn’t seem to feel anything. She never stopped twisting the cord around Ellen’s neck. Frantically, Kit turned, ran to the other side of the counter and started opening drawers in search of a knife. Jack and Regan came racing down the hall.

“I’m not desperate! Reed Danforth loves me!”

Jack lunged forward, “Let go!” he shouted, grabbing the assailant’s wrists and squeezing so hard she screamed in pain. “Now!”

The maniacal woman howled, released her grip, and started sobbing. Jack stood over her while he called 911.

Regan and Kit ran to Ellen’s side.

Ellen was holding her neck. Gulping for breath, she looked up at Kit. “I never expected you to return the favor this soon.”

Kit smiled but her face was distraught. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great. It thrills me to think this psycho must be Reed Danforth’s girlfriend. I’d like to get up . . .”

Regan and Kit helped her to her feet.

The “psycho” was sitting on the floor screaming and crying.

“Hey, you,” Ellen said, breathing hard.

“What?” the woman snarled, then pointed to her bloody cheek. “Look what you did to me! Look!”

“Where’s Reed?”

“Boston!”

“What I wouldn’t pay to see his face when he hears about this,” Ellen muttered.

“I’d like to take a quick look through the house before the police get here,” Jack said. “We don’t know what other lunacy she might have had in mind.”

Regan nodded. “We have her covered.”

Jack went upstairs and looked through the bedrooms. Then he came down the steps and went into the living room.

“It’s so cluttered, I know” Ellen called.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack said. “I just want to look around.” He then walked through the dining room and the basement. When he came back into the den, he went over to the closet next to the fireplace.

“Hey, Jack,” Ellen said.

Jack turned his head.

“That closet is so hard to open and close. It sticks like crazy. I doubt you’ll find anything in there.”

Jack shrugged. “I’ll give it a try.” He reached for the handle and pulled but nothing happened.

“See what I mean?”

Jack turned and smiled. “Let’s try again.” He yanked on the door hard. This time it did open. A man was crouched inside, looking miserable.

“Reed Danforth!”
Ellen screamed. “Where’s my camera? I want a picture for my website! I can’t believe Pippy’s not here!”

The “psycho” turned. A big smile spread across her face. “Darling! I missed you!” She jumped up and ran toward him, blood running down her cheek.

“Sit down,” Jack ordered.

“Please Jack, just one picture. Just one,” Ellen cried as her
camera flashed. The “psycho” had reached the closet, turned, crouched down, and smiled. Her hand was on Reed’s leg. “And one for safety,” Ellen cried as her camera flashed again. “And one for good measure. Hey boss,” she called to Reed, “where’d you meet your pretty girlfriend?”

“I bumped into him on the street!” Olivia squealed happily. “On purpose.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Ellen said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What goes around comes around. Don’t you agree, Mr. Danforth?”

The sirens of police cars growing louder and louder filled Ellen with delight.

Jack’s cell phone rang in the middle of a hubbub of police activity. He looked at the caller ID, then signaled to Regan. “Lopez,” he mouthed, pointing to his phone, then pointed upstairs.

Regan nodded.

They went upstairs to one of the bedrooms and shut the door.

“. . . Now we’re in a quiet room,” Jack told Lopez. “Do you mind if I put you on speakerphone? . . . great . . .” Jack flipped a switch on his phone. “Okay, what do you have?” he asked.

“I have the name and number of the ex-husband. He lives two hours outside of Chicago on an estate. Loves the role of the country gentleman. The concierge was sending Hopkins’s mail to a PO box in Boston. He and Hopkins were friendly, and she told him she’d been married to her ex for ten years but never talked about her earlier life, and he felt uncomfortable asking. The name of her ex is Randolph Windwood. Hopkins said Windwood was born into too much money. Nothing else, really.”

“Randolph Windwood is his name?”

“Yes, and his number is . . .”

Regan wrote it down.

“Okay. We’ll take it from there. Thanks so much. I appreciate your help.” Jack hung up the phone.

“This is great,” Regan said. “Her ex-husband might not be ‘Mr. Wonderful,’ but he must have some information for us. You want to call now?”

“Yes, I do.” Jack opened his phone again and started pushing in the number. “Let’s give Randolph a shout.”

After four rings, a man answered. “Windwood Residence.”

“Hello,” Jack said. “I’d like to speak to Randolph Windwood, please.”

“Who is calling?”

“My name is Jack Reilly. I’m a captain with the NYPD. I’m calling to inquire about Adele Hopkins.”

“Please hold.”

“I think that was the butler,” Jack whispered, as he held the phone out so Regan could listen.

“Hello. Randolph Windwood on the line.”

Windwood sounds so affected, Regan thought, as Jack introduced himself.

“What do you want to know about Adele?”

“She had an accident this morning. Her body was swept out to sea, and we’re trying to find her family.”

“Oh dear. Before our divorce, she only had me. No more.”

“We knew she didn’t have children, but isn’t there anyone?”

“No parents, no siblings, no children. She has dreary cousins somewhere, but I was never interested in seeing them. I have no idea where they are now.”

“Perhaps you could give us the names of a few of her friends.”

“When she married me, she started a new life. We socialized with my friends. Though none of them really took to her. Doesn’t matter now. Where was the accident?”

“Cape Cod.”

“Cape Cod!” Randolph started laughing and laughing. “My word, how amusing.”

“Why?”

“Maybe you should be talking to her first husband.”

“Her first husband?”

“Yes. Adele was married for more than twenty-five years to this fellow. I always suspected that after the initial excitement of our marriage, the horsey set wasn’t for Adele, and she missed her old life. What a difficult woman. So, so difficult. She left that man for me, you know. Maybe she was trying to reignite the flame by moving back. He was a teacher.”

“Where does he live?”

“Long Branch, Massachusetts. One of those small folksy towns that have never interested me. I don’t want to look out my window and see children riding bicycles down the street. I’d rather see horses running through the fields. My children rode horses. I don’t think either of my daughters ever rode a bicycle come to think of it.”

“You have children?”

“Yes, and just last year my first grandchild.”

“Congratulations,” Jack said, making a face at Regan, while she rubbed her fingers together, nodded her head, and mouthed the word “money.” “Mr. Windwood, would you please tell me the name of Adele’s first husband?”

“Why not? He might know where some of those cousins reside. He’s the type to keep in touch with all the bores. When I first met Adele she told me she made a new photo album each year of all her students. Why on earth would you do that I asked? You’ll never want to look at their pictures again. I think she and that husband were born with a certain gene that enabled them to derive pleasure from matters I find most tedious.”

“Adele was a teacher?”

“Yes. She taught the eighth grade.”

“I’m curious,” Jack said. “You don’t sound as if you had that much in common. How did you and Adele meet?”

“Adele’s father was dying. She took a leave of absence and went home to Oregon to be with him at the hospital. Her mother had died the year before. She had no siblings. I was also in the hospital, the result of a bad riding accident from which I have fully recovered. Mr. Hopkins’s room was right next door to my private room. His wasn’t private, but, well, what can you do? Anyway, we met three or four days after she arrived. Adele was asked to wait in the hallway when her father’s doctor came in to do whatever doctors do when they zip those curtains around the bed. I looked out, and there she was looking so sad. For some strange reason I’ll never understand for the life of me, I waved. She waved back. We chatted. Next thing you know, she’s spending time in my room while her father slept, getting me tea, trying to make me comfortable. We fell in love, and she never went back to what’s his name.”

“What
is
his name?”

“Jimmy Cannon. I think that he and many others in that little town were quite angry with Adele.”

“We’ll try and get in touch with him.”

“It’s a shame about Adele. If you find any relatives, please give them my condolences. No wait. Tell them to enjoy my money. Adele got quite a nice settlement. So long now.”

Jack closed his phone. “Wow.”

“Wouldn’t want to be married to him,” Regan said.

Jack smiled. “Let’s see if there’s a listing for Cannon.” He dialed information. There was a James Cannon in Long Branch, Massachusetts, but the number was unlisted. He flipped his phone shut. “We’d better get back downstairs. Tomorrow morning let’s take a drive to Long Branch. Cannon shouldn’t be too
hard to find in a small town. I just hope he’ll be willing to talk to us.”

“Jack, the slashed pillow was postmarked in Long Branch.”

“I know. But if Cannon
is
willing to talk, I’m sure it will be interesting.”

Devon was feeling on top of the world as he drove his little group back to The Castle by the Sea. They’d had a wonderful Italian dinner together. They’d laughed and talked. Everyone’s favorite topic was themself, naturally. But for Devon, what was most exciting was the way they all raved about the faux knife. Ah, to think how nervous I was. Tomorrow night’s cocktail party should be quite exciting, the highlight being the reading, of course.

He pulled the car down the driveway of The Castle.

“Great dinner, Devon.”

“Loved the spaghetti.”

“What most impressed me was the knife,” said Annie, the little ingénue who could be most annoying. “Not only is it an amazing fake knife, but I have such respect for the way you handled the situation.”

Devon nodded his head.

“Wait till Floyd sees that knife,” Hadley Wilder said. “He will be amazed. How can he not be? It looks so real. The handle is gorgeous.”

Devon was glowing when he parked the car. He’d been smiling to himself while the others headed inside. No one noticed he
was still sitting in the driver’s seat. Oh well. Must be a sign. I’ve been mulling this course of action all night, and now the decision has been made for me. Cheerily, he turned the car back on and headed to Floyd’s.

“I love the theatre,” Devon sang to himself. “Floyd will love the knife, um hmm hmm, la la la.”

Slowly, he turned onto the narrow beach road that ended in front of the house he had rented for Floyd. There were only three houses on the street. I don’t want to get too close, in case I decide not to ring the bell and have to make a fast getaway. Devon parked next to an overgrown thicket of bushes, grabbed the knife, his umbrella, and went out the door.

He probably won’t invite me in, Devon thought as he walked toward Floyd’s, trying to avoid puddles. Can’t say I blame him. But I would like for him to have just one little peek at this beautiful prop.