How Secrets Die (10 page)

“Lock this door,” he said shortly. “And put the dead bolt on.” After waiting only to hear the locks click into place, he strode to his car.

CHAPTER NINE

K
ATE
WALKED
PAST
the window, allowing herself a casual glance out. She was ready early, and she suspected Mac would be right on time. He wasn't the sort to take any commitment lightly, even a trivial one.

Thinking of him brought his face to mind—his eyes dark and intent in that instant before he'd kissed her last night. Her lips warmed at the memory, and Kate shook her head. Where had that come from? She hadn't been sending out any signals she'd been unaware of, had she?

She'd deny that the physical attraction was there if she thought she could get away with it. But a person ought to be honest with herself, if not with anyone else. She just hadn't realized it had been reciprocated.

Still, how could she? Mac had a shield every bit as impervious as hers was, except that he hid it behind a smiling, easy manner.

Movement outside caught her eye. There he was. She snatched up her bag and opened the door before he could reach it, stepping outside to meet him. It might be just as well, under the circumstances, to avoid being alone with him whenever possible.

“A woman who's ready on time,” he said, giving her that casual smile of his.

She wasn't deceived. His eyes were watchful, always watchful, behind it.

“You're not a male chauvinist, are you?” She matched her steps to his as they went out toward the street.

“God forbid,” he said with an expression of mock horror. “My mother would never put up with that. I vividly remember being sent to my room without dessert for referring to a classmate as ‘only a girl' when I was about eight. That cured me.”

“Good. I like a woman who teaches her sons not to discriminate.” They'd reached the street.

“Walk or ride?” Mac lifted an eyebrow with the question. “It's only a few blocks.”

“Walk, by all means. I haven't had enough exercise since I've been here.”

Mac nodded, and they headed up Main Street in the direction she'd come when she arrived in town, toward where the clock tower rose like a sentinel over the trees that bordered Main Street.

Mac caught the direction of her gaze. “Admiring our town hall tower?” He grinned. “It's a fine example of a community overreaching itself.”

“How so?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Our town fathers thought we'd be named the county seat, so they built to match their dreams. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way.”

“It's impressive, even so.” During the short time she'd been in town she'd noticed how often people glanced up at the clock, as if it was bound to be more accurate than their watches. “How old is it?”

“Built in 1842.” He broke off to exchange greetings with a pair of elderly women exiting the bank. “Local stone, same as the church on the corner,” he finished as they resumed walking.

Kate realized that the women had turned to watch them. “We seem to be attracting attention.”

“Keeping an eye on us, are they?” Amusement threaded his voice. “The female half of the population is always trying to marry me off. We could hold hands.” He gave her a challenging glance. “That would really give them something to talk about.”

“No, thank you,” she responded, ignoring the way her palm tingled at the suggestion. “According to Lina Oberlin, people will have started talking the first time you came to the cottage.”

He stiffened. “When did you get a chance to exchange that sort of advice with Lina?”

“Relax, it was nothing that should concern the police,” she said, answering the tone rather than the words. “She stopped by to apologize for her partner's attitude. We talked about Jason a little.”

“Did she have any insights?” His voice gentled as it always did when he spoke to her about her brother. That alone could undermine her defenses if she weren't careful.

Kate shook her head. “Nothing that helped any. She said that bit about people noticing when I asked if she'd ever visited him. She implied that financial consultants had to be like Caesar's wife—above reproach.”

Mac nodded, his lips quirking in amusement. “It's hard to believe anyone's imagination could conceive of a romance between a kid like Jason and a woman Lina's age.”

“She's just middle-aged, not dead,” she retorted. “Still, I can't think of anything less likely. Older women usually wanted to mother him, if anything.”

They were approaching a hardware store, where a number of men lounged outside in the sunshine, many of them obviously Amish from their clothing and beards. Kate made an effort not to stare.

Mac clearly didn't find it unusual. He exchanged passing greetings with everyone, including a few laughing words she didn't understand, accompanied by a glance or two at her.

Once they were safely out of earshot, she turned on him. “That sounded like German. And it looked as if you were talking about me.”

“Pennsylvania Dutch,” he said. “It's the Low German language the Amish brought with them to this country. Joseph asked me if I had a new girl.”

“What did you say to him?”

He grinned. “I said, well...the equivalent of ‘Don't count your chickens before they're hatched.'”

“You should have just told him no.” She tried for a firm tone despite the little curl of pleasure inside her at his implication.

“Then they'd assume we were together on police business,” he responded. “Seems to me it's better to keep a low profile on that.”

“Yes, of course,” she muttered. It wasn't personal, in other words.

He glanced at her. “About last night,” he began.

She was ready to turn off any conversation about that kiss with a laugh. The words she'd prepared were on her lips.

“... I meant to ask if you'd deciphered anything else in your brother's diary,” he continued.

She'd been so prepared for mention of the kiss that it took a moment to adjust. “There was something, but I have no idea what it means. In one of the last sessions, Jason makes a reference to someone called something like Baldicer. I have no idea what it means, but whoever it was, his attitude toward that person was...well, uneasy is the best way to describe it.”

“Man or woman?” Mac automatically snapped into cop mode.

She shook her head. “It wasn't clear. I couldn't even tell if he was referring to someone at work or elsewhere. It would have been clear to him, of course, but not to me.”

Mac considered. “No idea to where that character appears or what it represents?”

She shook her head. “It's not in any of the classic fantasy we read. I'm sure of that. Could be from one of the online games he played, I suppose.”

“You didn't join him in those?” His lips quirked.

“I figured a thirty-year-old woman could never keep up.” She smiled. “I probably would have embarrassed him.”

“So, what we need is a young person who is as into that world as Jason was. To serve as an interpreter.”

“You want me to let someone else look at Jason's private journal?” Despite herself, her voice rose a little, drawing a glance from a man watering a pot of mums outside the pharmacy.

“Well, think about it,” Mac said. “The best way into that world is through someone who knows it. And isn't it easier if it's a stranger? It wouldn't mean anything to him or her, and you'd never have to see them again.”

She could see the sense in what he said, but she still didn't like it. “I... I don't know. I'll think about it.”

Mac nodded as if satisfied with that answer. “I'll do some quiet looking around for someone who fits the job in the meantime.”

They turned off Main Street, immediately in a residential area of Victorian houses, neatly kept behind their hedges or fences. Chrysanthemums and marigolds bloomed along porches, and trees flaunted gold-and-red banners.

Russell Sheldon's house was a half block down, she knew from her previous visit. “Are you going to let me ask whatever questions I want?” she said abruptly.

“Within reason.” Mac's tone was wary.

“What does that mean?” She was ready to do battle. This visit would be worse than useless if she couldn't be free to follow whatever turned up.

Mac stopped, turning to face her as if to give added emphasis to his words. “Look, I've already told you about Russ's condition. If he starts getting agitated or upset, we call a halt. No arguments. Agreed?”

“It's only when people are upset that the truth comes out,” she countered.

He seemed to consider for a moment. Then he gave a short nod. “I'll give you some leeway. But I can't risk getting us both charged with harassment, either. Agreed?”

“I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?” She resented his efforts to control her, but the sneaky thought intruded that there was something admirable about his protectiveness for his town and the people in it.

They headed up the walk and the few steps to the porch. The yard was well cared for, presumably by someone hired to deal with it.

“Just one other thing.” Mac paused again. “Let's start out with something innocuous. I'm afraid if you say something about Jason right away, we'll risk upsetting him so quickly we won't get anything out of him.”

Kate studied his expression and found nothing more than genuine concern. And he was probably right—easing into the conversation she wanted to have might be the way.

“Okay, as long as you don't try to take over.”

His lips quirked. “I'll try.”

The caregiver must have been watching for them, because she opened the door the instant Mac knocked. Kate blinked.

“You're—”

“Sheila.” The woman beamed. “Sure thing. Glad to see you up and around after your accident.”

It was the woman who'd come to the rescue the night she'd nearly been run over at the Lamplight. Sheila's obviously bleached hair frizzed in a halo about a round face that beamed with friendliness.

“So, are you all better now?” She waved them inside as she spoke.

“Fine, thanks. Just a bruise or two to show for it. I wanted to thank you for your help...”

The woman waved her to silence. “Forget it. No trouble at all. Gave us all a little excitement that night.”

“I could do without that kind of excitement,” she said ruefully.

“Well, if Mac here had caught the guy, it would have been even more exciting.” She elbowed Mac. “You're falling down on the job.”

“It's all your fault, Sheila. If you'd managed to get a description of the vehicle, it'd be a different story.”

He sounded as if the joking exchange was second nature to him, but Kate could sense the frustration beneath his words. He did feel as if he'd failed.

“Next time, I'll arrange to have my accidents where there are more reliable witnesses,” she said, and then feared Sheila would think she meant her. “Sheila was the only one who kept her head, and she was busy with me.”

Sheila shrugged. “Most of the boys had had a few by that time of the evening, and nobody could say that parking lot is well lit.” She grinned. “'Course there's those who like it that way.”

“You can never please everyone,” Mac said with a return of his official manner. “So how is Russ doing today?”

“Pretty fair. He's pleased to have company. The thing is, there's no telling what'll set him off. Gets upset and starts to cry sometimes, and all I can do is hug him and tell him everything is okay.” Sheila shook her head. “Sad to see a smart gentleman turn out like that, but we'll all come to it sooner or later, if we live long enough.”

There didn't seem to be any appropriate answer to that comment, so Kate just nodded.

“I told him you were Jason's sister. He seemed to understand, but...” She let that trail off with a shrug. “Come on in the living room.” Sheila ushered them into a room to the left of the center hall with its typical Victorian hat stand and mirror.

“Mr. Sheldon, here's Mac Whiting, come to bring you a visitor.” She raised her voice, but there didn't seem to be a need. The face that turned toward them was alert and intelligent.

Russell Sheldon rose immediately at the sight of Kate, and the dog that had been dozing at the side of his armchair rose, as well.

“How pleasant to have visitors...” he began, but the dog, apparently recognizing Mac, rushed toward him with the obvious intent of jumping up.

“There's a good dog, Ruffy.” Mac caught the paws that would otherwise have landed on his chest. “No, I don't want a kiss, and Kate doesn't want one, either.”

The dog, with every appearance of understanding, padded over to Kate and nuzzled her hand. She patted him.

“What a nice-looking dog.” She tried to find something else that would appeal to a dog lover. “What breed is he?”

Mac chuckled. “That's a good question.”

Mr. Sheldon gave him a reproving look. “Golden retriever on his mother's side. Alas, the father remains unknown, but I have my suspicions.” He held out his hand to Kate. “It's nice of you to come to visit me, my dear.”

Mac, reminded of his duty, cleared his throat. “Russ, this is Kate Beaumont. She's new in town. Kate, Russell Sheldon.”

Kate found her hand shaken firmly while she was assessed by still bright blue eyes. Despite the alertness, something in the man's appearance said he wasn't well. Maybe it was the parchment-like color of his skin or the slight quaver in his voice.

“Please, sit down and visit.” He gestured to two armchairs at angles to his. “Sheila...” he began.

“Tea will be ready in a minute.” Sheila hustled toward the back of the house. “Just have to bring the water back to the boil.”

“I hope you don't mind tea,” Sheldon said, sitting down. “I've never been able to like coffee, no matter how I try. The doctor seems to think it would be good for me, but I can't stand the taste.”