All Night Long (21 page)

Strategy was the key, he reminded himself. It was always the key. Unfortunately, strategy exacted its own price. He glanced back at the warmly lit cabin. Maybe he could handle a little fooling around. Sure, it would cost him some sleep.

Don’t go there. If you get started tonight, you’re not going to be able to stop and you know it. You don’t want her having regrets in the morning.

There was something wrong with Cabin Number Five, he thought. It looked different tonight.

The bedroom was dark.

An uneasy sensation whispered through him. He braked to a stop. There had still been some daylight left when they
set out for the drive around the lake. Maybe Irene had forgotten to leave the lights on in the bedroom. Or maybe a lamp was out. The least he could do was offer to change it for her. Maxine was always telling him that a strong service orientation was the key to repeat business.

Could he make excuses, or what?

He put the vehicle into reverse.

The front door of the cabin slammed open just as he reached the drive. Irene burst out onto the porch. She vaulted the three steps, spotted the SUV and plunged toward it.

“Luke.”

The figure of a man loomed in the doorway of the cabin. He held an object in one hand.

Luke was out of the SUV, moving toward Irene with no conscious memory of having opened the door.

“Someone,” she gasped. “Someone inside—”

He grabbed her arm and hauled her around to the far side of the SUV, putting the vehicle’s massive bulk between them and the man in the doorway.

He yanked open the passenger-side door and pushed her inside. “Get in and stay down.”

She didn’t argue.

The intruder moved out of the doorway onto the front porch.

“Miss Stenson, wait,” he called in a hoarse, frantic voice. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What the hell?” Luke moved toward the front of the SUV. “Is that you, Mills?”

Tucker Mills lowered his voice. “It’s me, Mr. Danner. I’m surely sorry. I didn’t want anyone else to know I was here, y’see.”

“It’s okay, Tucker. Drop whatever it is you’re holding in your hand.” Luke kept his tone easy, nonthreatening.

“Sure, Mr. Danner.”

Tucker released his grip on the object in his hand. It fell soundlessly to the floor of the porch. Not a gun or a knife, Luke thought.

He went forward swiftly. When he mounted the steps,
Tucker stepped back nervously, hands half raised in a pathetic gesture of anxiety and self-defense. “Please, Mr. Danner. I didn’t mean any harm. Honest.”

Feeling a lot like a thug, Luke glanced down at the object Tucker had dropped. It was a knit cap. He scooped it up and handed it back to Mills.

“What is this all about, Tucker?” he asked quietly.

“Tucker? Tucker Mills?” Irene had scrambled out of the SUV and was walking quickly back toward the cabin.

“Yes, Miss Stenson.”

“Good grief, you scared the daylights out of me.” She hurried up the steps and stopped beside Luke. She peered intently at Tucker. “What on earth were you doing hiding in my bedroom?”

“I didn’t want anyone to see me here.” Tucker sounded miserable and very nervous. “You were gone when I got here, so I jimmied the back door. Reckoned it would be better if I waited in the cabin. Less chance of being spotted that way.”

“It’s okay, Tucker,” Irene said gently. “I understand. Sorry for freaking out like that. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“I shoulda stayed outside. I know that, Miss Stenson. But I was afraid someone might see me hanging around the back porch. Maybe call the police.”

“Let’s continue this conversation inside,” Luke said.

Irene smiled warmly at Tucker. “I’ll make tea.”

T
en minutes later Irene set three steaming cups of her specially blended tea on the small kitchen table. She figured it would take a few more hours for her thoroughly rattled nerves to settle down, but at least her pulse was no longer pounding.

Luke had made a circuit of the cabin a few minutes ago, pulling every curtain tightly shut. Now he sat across from Tucker looking grim but amazingly patient and calm. He obviously knew Tucker Mills, Irene thought. He understood that Tucker didn’t do well under pressure.

“Start at the beginning, Mills,” Luke said.

“Yes, sir.” Tucker’s expression tightened into a worried knot. It was clear that he was not entirely certain where the beginning was.

“Start anywhere you want,” Irene suggested. “Take your time.”

“Okay.” Tucker shot her a grateful look. “This afternoon, then.”

“What about this afternoon?” she asked.

“That’s when I saw Mr. Danner, here, in Mr. Carpenter’s garage. I was cleaning up the place like I always do in the afternoons. Mr. Danner came in and talked to Mr. Carpenter. I heard him ask about Miss Webb, whether she had a new boyfriend or something like that.”

Luke watched Tucker very steadily. “Do you know something about her?”

Tucker gripped his mug in two bony hands. “I do some regular work out at the Webb place, leastways I used to.” He paused. “Before the house burned down, I mean. Guess there won’t be any more work there now, though.”

“Go on,” Irene said, fighting to keep her voice even and soothing while everything inside wanted to shout at him to get on with his tale.

“Miss Webb hired me a few years ago to take care of the garden and mow the lawn and check the pipes in winter to make sure they don’t freeze up. Things like that.”

“Maintenance work,” Luke said.

Tucker nodded, pleased by the show of comprehension. “Right. Maintenance. I went there a couple of times a week. I was there the day before you found her. In the morning, I mean.”

Irene tensed. “Did you talk to her?”

“Sure. She was always nice to me. Even in the old days. Both of you were, in fact. Neither one of you ever acted like you thought I was a no-account.”

Irene was appalled. “You were not a no-account. You always worked for a living. Dad used to say that you were the hardest-working man in town.”

Faded sorrow shadowed Tucker’s gaunt face. “Chief
Stenson treated me with respect. He trusted me. Not a lot of folks do. Oh, sure, they’re quick enough to hire me to do odd jobs, but just let something go missing and who do you think gets blamed? Me. But your dad never took those people seriously. Anyhow, that’s one of the reasons I came here to see you tonight. Figured I owed something to you because I owed your dad and I was never able to repay him, if you see what I mean.”

“Thank you, Tucker,” she said.

“What happened on the day before Pamela Webb died?” Luke asked.

Tucker collected himself with a visible effort. “Like I said, I was at the house, working in the garden as usual. Miss Webb was inside.”

“Do you know what she was doing?” Luke asked.

“Not for sure. But when she saw me park my truck around back by the dock, she came out to say hello. Then she said something about having to finish some work on the computer and went back inside. A while later a car pulled into the drive.”

“What kind of car?” Luke asked.

“It was a real nice car. One of those foreign jobs. Guy behind the wheel didn’t see me on account of I was around the side of the house. And like I said, I’d parked the truck in back so I didn’t have to carry my tools and equipment too far. Anyhow, I heard the man knock on the front door.”

“Did Pamela let him in?” Irene asked.

Tucker bobbed his head. “I could tell she knew him. But she didn’t sound real happy to see him. She wanted to know why he was there. Sounded like she was mad at him.”

“Did you hear what he said in response?” Irene asked.

“No. But he seemed real angry. She let him in for a few minutes. Not long. Don’t know what they talked about, but I could hear him arguing with Miss Webb. I hung around near the utility room door just in case she needed some help getting rid of him. But he finally took off. Drove away real fast. I could tell he was still mad at her.”

“Did you get a good look at him?” Luke asked.

“Pretty good.”

Irene realized she was holding her breath.

“Did you recognize him?” Luke asked in the same steady, nonthreatening voice.

“That day was the first time I saw him,” Tucker said.

Irene swallowed a sigh of disappointment and reminded herself that this was more information than they’d had twenty minutes ago.

“Can you describe him?” Luke asked.

“Sort of medium height. Soft.”

“Soft?” she repeated curiously. “Do you mean fat?”

“Not soft that way. I know some real big guys who aren’t soft.” Tucker’s face pinched into a scowl of deep concentration. “He wasn’t fat, but he looked like you could push him over without too much trouble.” Tucker looked at Luke. “Not hard like you, Mr. Danner.
Soft.
”

“Okay, soft,” Irene said. “Go on, Tucker. What else can you tell us about him?”

“Brown hair.” Tucker appeared to search his memory. “Fancy clothes. And like I said, that fancy car.”

Irene stifled a groan of disappointment. Talk about a generic description, she thought. “Can I assume from the fact that you didn’t recognize him that he was not from around here?”

“No, he sure wasn’t local. Told you, it was the first time I’d ever seen him.” Tucker took a swallow of the hot tea.

They sat in silence for a while. Irene felt her excitement slip away. How would they ever identify Pamela’s visitor with such a vague description? she wondered.

Tucker lowered his mug of tea. “Saw him again, though, not long after that.”

Irene straightened quickly in her chair. She knew that Luke had also gone on high alert although he did not move so much as a finger.

“When did you see him again?” Luke asked very casually.

“The morning after you found her body.”

Irene clutched her mug in both hands. “What was he doing?”

Tucker was befuddled by the question. “Don’t know what he was doing, exactly.”

“Where was he?” Luke asked.

“Outside the municipal building. He got into that big limo with Senator Webb and that pretty lady they say the senator’s going to marry.”

Irene looked at Luke, hardly daring to breathe.

“Hoyt Egan,” Luke said. “Webb’s aide.”

A
short time later, Luke stood with Irene on the back porch of the cabin. They watched Tucker Mills shamble off into the darkness of the trees.

“Try not to run away with this.” Luke wrapped an arm around Irene’s shoulders. She was coiled spring tight, every muscle rigid. “Egan may have had a very good reason for driving up here to see Pamela.”

“You heard what Tucker said; they argued.”

“I heard. But that doesn’t mean that he murdered her.” He paused briefly. “Could mean he knows what was on her mind in the last couple of days of her life, though.”

“Yes, it does,” Irene said eagerly. “Maybe they were lovers. Maybe she had ended the relationship, and Egan didn’t take it well.”

“It’s a possibility,” he agreed. “But that’s pure speculation at this point. Furthermore, you’re trying to prove that Pamela’s death was linked to what happened to your folks, right?”

“Yes.”

“Got to tell you, it’s hard to figure how Egan could fit into any scenario involving the deaths of your parents. He’s in his mid-thirties. Not much older than you. He was probably
in college at the time. And he’s not from around here, anyway. Doesn’t seem to be a connection.”

“No.” Reluctance was a lead weight dragging down the single word.

He felt like a brute stomping on her conspiracy theories, but he told himself that he was doing her a favor, whether she realized it or not.

“Hey.” He tucked her closer against his side. “I’m not saying you’re going off the deep end here. I was with you the other night when someone torched the Webb house, remember? I agree that something very nasty is going on. I’m just not convinced yet that it has anything to do with the past.”

“What’s your theory?”

“Given her history of drug use, I’m starting to wonder if maybe Pamela Webb got involved with some very bad guys.”

“Oh, jeez.” Irene shuddered. “Drug dealers?”

“It’s one possibility. Unfortunately there are a lot more.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged. “Maybe someone used her addiction to try to blackmail or manipulate her.” He hesitated. “Or maybe—”

Irene turned her head very quickly to look at him. “What are you thinking?”

“It occurs to me that a senator’s daughter would be a very useful tool for someone who wanted access or inside information. Pamela knew the people her father knew. She entertained his associates. Helped organize his fund-raisers. She rubbed shoulders with some of the most powerful people in the country.”

“And she was not just beautiful, she was also sexy,” Irene said quietly. “I think it’s safe to say she probably slept with some of those important people.”

“Which opens up even more really unpleasant scenarios.”

“Good Lord,” Irene said. “Do you think Pamela was killed and the house torched because she knew too much? That maybe someone was afraid that she would reveal embarrassing or incriminating information?”

“I don’t know.” He held out one hand, palm up. “At the moment, I’m speculating, just like you.”