The Burnt Orange Sunrise (22 page)

“Are you kidding me? It was pitch-black, freezing cold. I didn’t so much as leave this bed. Why would I?”

“You tell me,” Des said, raising her chin at her.

Hannah reddened. “Oh, I see. You’re wondering about Aaron and me, aren’t you?”

Des didn’t answer, just gazed at her intently.

Hannah let her breath out slowly and said, “He told me that Carly is a very light sleeper, so I should just forget about us being together while we’re here. Which I am fine with. It would be totally disgusting for us to be doing anything with her right across the hall, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know. My field is the law, not personal virtue.”

“Pretty much one and the same thing, aren’t they?”

“So you were alone all night?”

“Unless Danielle counts as company,” she replied, tugging a tattered Danielle Steele paperback romance novel out from under her quilt. “She’s gotten me through many a cold, lonely night. You’re probably surprised that I read her. I could tell you that it’s some kind of kitschy, ironic thing on my part, but it’s not. I just love her books. They’re so visual. I’d give anything to film one someday.”

“So why don’t you?”

Hannah stared at her. “Do you have
any
idea how much money that would cost? The rights alone would be huge. No one’s going to give me a project like that to direct.”

Then again, Des reflected, it might be another matter entirely if the young director were able to raise a lot of that money herself.
Which she could do if she had herself a patron like Aaron Ackerman on the hook, a man who it so happened was just about to get way rich. Just exactly how ambitious was Hannah Lane? How hungry to succeed? She had no problem getting freaky for Aaron. Would she have any problem killing for him? “Hannah, did you hear anyone coming or going out in the hall last night?”

“I was asleep.”

“You didn’t hear any doors open or close?”

“I was asleep.” A defensive edge crept into her voice. “I just told you.

“That’s right, you did,” Des said, wondering whether Hannah was telling her the truth or not. Maybe she and Aaron
were
playing in the dirt together last night. Maybe they were doing a whole lot more than that together.

Des didn’t know. Not yet. She thanked Hannah Lane and went back out in the hall and tapped on the door to room nine.

Jory Hearn called out for her to come in. Jory was seated on the bed, propped up against the headboard, wearing the quilt like a poncho. Her arms were folded tightly in front of her chest, her chin stuck out.

Des stood there in the doorway watching her. The grim-faced young redhead wasn’t looking back at Des. She was busy gazing around at the room, as if she were trying to memorize every last detail of it while she still had the chance. She reminded Des of a high school girl taking stock of her old bedroom the night before she was to leave for college. Des had certainly done this in her own little bedroom in Kensington the night before she went off to West Point, one part excited, two parts scared to death.

“I understand that Norma was up and down a lot in the night,” Des said for starters. “That she didn’t sleep well as a rule.”

“Yeah, she almost always got up.” Jory’s voice sounded hollow and rather small. “When I’d come in to start breakfast, I’d often find a list of chores on the kitchen table that she’d left for me at like four in the morning. ‘Norma’s Little Reminders,’ I called them.”

“Did she leave you one this morning?”

Jory shook her head.

“Did she leave anything out for you this morning?”

Jory frowned, glancing at Des curiously. “Like what?”

“Like something to indicate that she’d been up in the night. A saucepan, maybe a mug. I’m told she liked to make herself a cup of cocoa.”

“It’s true, she did.”

“Did she make herself any last night?”

“I didn’t notice anything. But I’m not positive, in all honesty.”

“Let’s go down and take a look, okay?”

They took the narrow service stairs down to the mudroom, where the smell of bacon and coffee still lingered in the air. The stove was cluttered with the dirty pots and pans from their uneaten breakfast. The bacon fat had congealed to a waxy consistency in the skillet.

“Can you remember how this kitchen looked when you came in, Jory?”

Jory looked around, considering her answer carefully. “Well, the dishes from last night were all in the dishwasher, and the sink was clear. The counter was clear, too.”

“Was there a pot on the stove?”

Jory shook her head.

Des’s eyes fell on the box of kitchen matches that they’d used to light the burners for breakfast. “How about spent matches?”

“I don’t remember seeing any.”

“When Norma made herself cocoa, did she usually clean up afterward?”

“She was an innkeeper. She never left a mess behind. Not in her nature.”

“She would have put her dishes in the dishwasher?”

“Most likely.”

Des opened it up and looked around inside. There were lots of plates and glasses, the serving dishes from dinner, a roasting pan, several Astrid’s Castle mugs. “There’s no saucepan in here,” she said.

“Actually, this is the one she usually used,” Jory said, indicating a
one-quart no-stick pan that was hanging from a rack over the stove, clean and dry.

“Did she have a favorite mug?”

“Not really, no.”

Des pulled the roll of yellow crime scene tape from her coat pocket and stretched a length of it over the dishwasher door. “I’ll need for you to steer clear of this, okay?” We’ll want to examine the contents.”

“Sure, whatever,” Jory said, sighing despondently. It seemed as if the weight of the future had fallen on her like an anvil.

Des glanced out the kitchen windows at the snow that was coming down out in the courtyard. The footpath from the kitchen door across to Jory and Jase’s cottage was buried so deep under the fresh snowfall that it was impossible to tell where it even was. “How about you, Jory? Did you get up in the night?”

“I woke up a lot, that’s for sure.” A strand of red hair had come loose from Jory’s topknot. She twirled it around her finger distractedly. “Every time that damned wind brought down another tree, I mean, it sounded like the end of the world, you know? But I didn’t get up.”

“You can see right in here from your front windows,” Des observed.

“Yes, we can.”

“You didn’t notice a light in here last night, did you? A candle, a flashlight—any sign that Norma or someone else might have been up?”

“Someone else?” Jory peered at her, confused. “Like who?”

“Like Ada.”

“No, I didn’t see anything.”

“Do you have any idea whether Jase was up?”

“I’m not sure. You’d have to ask him.”

“Is Jase generally a sound sleeper?”

“Very. He works long, hard days.”

“He didn’t have any issues with Norma, did he?”

“None. Jase loved her dearly. We both did.”

“And both of you were in here when we heard Hannah scream, am I right?”

“Pretty much. I’d just brought out the oatmeal, and I was on my way back in here for a fresh coffeepot. Jase was over there in the mudroom,” she said, glancing at the open doorway. ’Td given him some Handi Wipes so he could tidy up, since Carly was being such a—” Jory broke off, curling her lip. “She was not being very kind.”

“I forget, was Les in here with you, too?”

“Do you mean when Hannah screamed? No, Les was still out in the dining room with you folks. He was bringing out the eggs, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right.” This jibed with Des’s own recollection. Which, by the way, happened to be perfect. “So in the moments just prior to Hannah’s scream, you, Jase and Les were all in here together?”

“Yes.”

“Was there any point when Les wasn’t in here with you?”

“Not really. He did go down to the laundry room for a few seconds.”

“Why did he do that?”

“To fetch a pile of fresh napkins. We were running low.”

“How many seconds was he down there?”

Jory shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “Twenty, maybe thirty?”

“And Jase?”

“Jase never left the mudroom.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I’m positive. Des, do you mind if I ask you something now?”

“Not at all. Go right ahead.”

“I sort of heard you guys talking before in the taproom, but I wanted to make sure I heard it right.” Jory hesitated, clearing her throat uneasily. “Aaron’s the new boss of us, isn’t he?”

“That’s something you ought to talk to Les about,” Des replied, since the details of Norma ’s last will and testament were not for public consumption. Then again, she reflected, the future of Astrid’s Castle did matter a great deal to this woman. Jory deserved to know the truth sooner rather than later. So the hell with it. “Apparently,
Norma and Les signed a pre-nuptual agreement, whereby Les has no ownership rights to this place. Aaron gets it.”

Jory nodded her head glumly. “I guess that means all three of us are out. Aaron and Les can barely tolerate each other. And there’s no way Jase or I will ever work a single day for Carly.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Carly may not be in the picture for long.”

“Well, that much is true,” Jory agreed, brightening a little.

“Besides, Aaron said he had no intention of making any changes.”

Jory let out a short laugh. “Sure, that’s what they always say—just before they shut down the factory and move all of the jobs to Malaysia or somewhere.”

Des’s cell phone squawked again.

She answered it and heard an excited Soave blurt out, “Des, you have not lost your touch.”

“What have you got for me, Rico?” she asked him as Jory started for the service stairs. Des didn’t want anyone wandering around the castle alone, so she motioned for her to sit. Jory flopped down at the kitchen table, puffing out her cheeks.

“Well, for starters,” Soave reported, “Dr. Lavin is in Aruba for two weeks.”

“Dumb he’s not. And …?”

“And the doctor who’s covering for him is going to look into Norma Josephson’s records and get back to me.”

“And…?”

“And I bounced your theory off of the medical examiner. He said that if somebody ODs on digoxin it can trigger, wait a sec, I wrote all of this down … ‘Excessive slowing of the pulse, thereby leading to atrio-ventricular blockage. Which, if someone is elderly or has a heart condition, can lead to complete cardiac arrest within a half hour.’ That’s an induced heart attack, in dumbo English. Which is to say,
ka-ching.”

“That’s good work, Rico,” she said, her mind starting to race. Whoever killed Norma had known more than a little about her heart condition. Meaning it was someone close to her as opposed to, say,
Spence or Hannah. Although Hannah could have known about it by way of Aaron.

“Yolie’s reaching out to your local pharmacist. And I just spoke to the Connecticut Light and Power people.”

“This news is not so good. I hear it in your voice, Rico.”

“Hey, I got you bumped to a high priority, right behind the hospitals, schools and the governor’s mother’s house. But they still can’t promise anything before the end of tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?
Rico, we will freeze to death by then.”

At the table, Jory nodded her head solemnly.

“Hey, at my house we’re looking at seventy-two hours,” he complained. “So consider yourself lucky.”

“What did the SP-One people say?”

“According to the latest forecast, the snow and wind are supposed to taper off early this afternoon. They think we might be able to land up there maybe one, two o’clock. I’ve got the authorization.”

Des glanced at her watch. It was not quite eleven now.

“Des, I’m still willing to do it the old-fashioned way. Just say the word and me and Yolie will be on the road in ten minutes.”

“No, take the chopper, Rico. You’re a bigger help to me right where you are. And you’ll get here faster.”

“Deal. Back at you when I know more.”

Des rang off and she and Jory started back upstairs.

“Would it be okay if we looked in on Jase?” Jory asked her as they climbed. “I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Any reason he wouldn’t be?”

“He doesn’t do well under certain circumstances.”

“None of us are doing particularly well right now.”

“I know, but he’s real sensitive, and he can get kind of …”

“Kind of what, Jory?”

“Upset,” she said quietly.

“Sure, okay,” Des said, pushing open the steel door to the second-floor corridor. Mitch was still at his post at the top of the main stairs. “I need to talk to him anyway.”

“Can I come in with you?” Jory asked, somewhat pleadingly.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then I’ll wait right out here in the hallway, if you don’t mind. Just in case you need me.”

“That’ll be fine.” Des tapped on the door to room eleven. It wasn’t bolted. She opened it and went inside, shutting it behind her.

Jase sat hunched on the edge of the bed, facing the windows. The unheated room was beginning to smell of his unwashed presence.

“How’s it going, Jase?” she asked, starting toward him.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t so much as acknowledge her presence.

When she made her way around the bed to face him, Des found Jase Hearn to be perspiring heavily despite the chill. He was nodding his head up and down, wringing his hands, jiggling his knee.

Jory knew her brother, all right. He was definitely upset.

“It won’t open,” he said suddenly. “The window won’t open.”

Indeed not. The deep granite sill was heavily encrusted with ice, frozen solidly shut.

“Are you going somewhere, Jase?” she asked him, keeping her voice low.

“I have to work on the driveway,” he replied, his voice rising with urgency. “Trees are down.”

“In a while, Jase.”

“No, that’s no good,” he protested. “I take care of things. I’m supposed to be out there, not sitting here doing nothing.”

“Soon, okay?” Des perched on the bed next to him. “And you’re not here doing nothing. You’re helping me out.”

He turned and looked at her blankly. “I am?”

“Absolutely. I need to ask you some questions about last night, okay?”