Lost and Found (29 page)

“I’m not arguing. I can’t. I’m still in shock.”

“Well, in that case, follow me. I’ll pour you a drink.”

She turned on her heel and walked off toward the other end of the big house.

T
he kitchen felt cold. He prowled the room while Cady got dinner underway. She had made one or two attempts at a civil discussion but he had rejected them. He was in no mood to make polite conversation. He was pissed.

What really bothered him was that Cady had made it clear that he had no right to be mad.

While she finished making a salad, he poured himself a second glass of wine and went to stand at the window. He told himself that she was right. He was acting like an irate husband. She didn’t owe him any answers. He had no real claim on her.

But all the logic in the world wasn’t doing much to counter the aftereffects of the fear that had consumed him when he had returned this afternoon and found her gone.

“How did things go between you and Gabriella?” Cady asked.

Another olive branch, he thought. Maybe he’d better grab it. They had to break the impasse sooner or later.

“We talked. It was okay, I think.” He turned away from the window. “What did you say to her this morning before I came back downstairs, anyway?”

Cady reached for a knife. “Not much. I just suggested that she ask you why you wanted to sell the house.”

He thought about that. “This is the first time she’s ever
asked. When I brought up the subject before, she got angry and upset and looked like she was going to burst into tears. But today she actually asked me in a reasonable, adult way.” He watched her whisk olive oil and balsamic vinegar together. “I figure that was your doing.”

“Did you give her an answer?”

“Tried.” He paused to take a sip of wine. “Not sure I was able to explain it very well. I don’t think I can explain it fully, not even to myself. But at least she listened today. That’s a step forward.”

“She’s an intelligent young woman and she loves you very much. In the end it will be all right.”

“About the mistress crack,” he said eventually. “I apologize on Gabriella’s behalf.”

“Forget it.”

“Gabriella knows that I’ve had relationships in the past. I’ve usually introduced her to the women I’ve dated. But I’ve always kept my private life offstage, if you know what I mean.”

“In other words, Gabriella has never walked into a room and found you in bed with a woman.”

He frowned. “She didn’t find us in bed.”

“Close enough.”

“She’s a big girl. She knows that I’ve done more than hold hands with some of the women I’ve been involved with over the years.”

“But you’ve protected her so that she never had to confront the reality that her father has a sex life, is that it?”

“Some things are supposed to be private. And, yes, I did try to protect her. But the truth is, keeping my relationships on the side was very convenient for me, too.”

“Ah. I think I’m getting the picture here.” Cady went to the stove.

“Whenever I got involved with a woman, I always made it clear going in that marriage was not on my list of priorities.” Why the hell was he trying to explain himself?
If she didn’t owe him any answers, he sure didn’t owe her any, either. “I was very up-front about the fact that I had no intention of trying to force Gabriella to accept a stepmother. I told myself that was only fair to the woman I was seeing.”

“But?”

He took another swallow of wine. “But looking back, I think maybe one of the reasons I made a point of making sure my dates understood that the relationships were not going to lead to marriage was because it kept things simple for me.”

“Simple.”

He hesitated. “You know what I mean. Less distracting.”

“In other words, you were protecting yourself as well as Gabriella.”

He exhaled slowly. “Maybe. Like I said, it was convenient.”

Cady dumped pasta into the boiling water. “So tell me, Mack, what kind of a love life have you had during the past few years?”

“Not great. I got dumped a lot.”

Amusement lit up her face. And then she broke into full, unreserved laughter. He listened, bemused, and then he started to grin. The grin became a chuckle and then he, too, was laughing.

The kitchen suddenly felt a whole lot warmer.

S
ylvia looked up when Cady sat down at the small sidewalk café table. “I give you fair warning. If you linger here for more than five minutes, you will be forced to have lunch with me and Eleanor Middleton. We’re going to discuss my role in the Carnival Night festivities.”

Cady looked around quickly, searching for the familiar silver-white pageboy haircut that was Eleanor’s trademark.
The lunch crowd was still light. She saw no sign of the perennial committee chair.

“Don’t worry, I can say what I have to say in four and a half minutes,” she assured Sylvia. “Mack and I would like you and Gardner to come to dinner this evening. We want to talk to you.”

“Is this the big announcement?” Sylvia asked with a tense tone.

“Big announcement?” Cady thought fast. “Oh, you mean the engagement thing. No, it’s not that.”

Sylvia relaxed visibly. “We can’t make it tonight. We’re entertaining one of Gardner’s clients. I’ve got meetings scheduled all day tomorrow, but I think we’re both free in the evening.”

Cady hesitated, wondering if she should jump straight into the subject of her theories concerning Vesta’s death. The knowledge that Sylvia would be seriously shocked stopped her. This was not the time or place. You had to work up to a conversation like this one.

“Tomorrow evening will be fine,” she said reluctantly.

“What’s the matter?” Sylvia asked with concern. “This sounds serious. Something wrong?”

Eleanor Middleton materialized before Cady could come up with a response. She was dressed in a pair of jaunty navy slacks and a red jacket. A quantity of gold buttons sparkled in the sunlight.

“Cady, dear. So good to see you. You’ll be here for this year’s Carnival Night, I hope?”

“Uh, yes,” Cady stammered. “Yes, I will, Eleanor.”

“Excellent. You can assist Sylvia and me with handing out the costume prizes. It will be so nice to have both of you on the stage this year. A lovely tribute to Vesta, don’t you think? She was such an institution here in Phantom Point.”

Not a beloved institution, Cady thought. Just an institution.

“Glad to help in any way I can,” she murmured, struggling for an ounce or two of enthusiasm.

Sylvia gave Cady an amused “gotcha” look that said more clearly than words that escape was no longer possible.

“Wonderful.” Eleanor unbuckled a designer briefcase. “The committee has had its hands full this year, I can tell you that. Brooke Langworth was forced to resign a couple of months ago when George took a turn for the worse, you know. We certainly miss her.”

“I understand George is very ill now,” Sylvia said.

“I’m afraid so.” Eleanor shook her head sadly. “Not expected to last much longer. I must say, Brooke has been very devoted to him in these last few months. Not quite what everyone expected. It was generally assumed that she only married him for his money, you know.”

Sylvia looked thoughtful. “Which she will soon have, won’t she?”

Cady and Eleanor looked at her. Neither said a word.

Eleanor cleared her throat and hastily pulled some papers out of her briefcase. “Yes, well, Cady, let me give you a copy of the schedule. The prizes will be handed out at nine o’clock in the evening, just before the fireworks.”

“Great. I’ll be sure to be there. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way—”

“Nonsense,” Eleanor said briskly. “You must join us for lunch. We have a great deal to discuss. This year’s event is going to be the most elaborate Carnival Night ever held in Phantom Point. The committee has authorized me to pull out all the stops.”

I
t was a good forty minutes before Cady managed her escape. She left Sylvia and Eleanor poring over the plans for the presentation of the costume prizes and fled a block to Chatelaine’s.

There were only two people in the gallery. Leandra was showing them a Victorian-era painting that featured an Arthurian scene done in the highly romanticized style of Edward Burne-Jones.

She exchanged a nod of greeting with Leandra and then went down the short hall to the little office suite at the rear of the gallery. She paused at the door of the washroom and slipped inside. The small space was empty. She opened her purse and took out a brush.

When she was finished with her repairs, she pressed the button of the liquid soap dispenser several times before she realized that the container was empty.

Bending down, she opened one of the two doors in the cabinet under the counter. There was no spare bottle of liquid soap inside, but she noticed several rolls of tissue and a short stack of small, boxed hand soaps inside. She smiled when she saw the hotel logo on the boxes. Souvenirs of a vacation. She removed one of the little boxes and closed the door.

A few minutes later she emerged from the washroom and went down the hall to the showroom. Leandra’s customers had departed. Cady glanced at the picture of the knights in shining armor surrounded by ethereal ladies.

“No sale?”

“Not yet.” Leandra looked knowing. “But something tells me they’ll be back. What have you been up to?”

“Just had lunch with Sylvia and Eleanor Middleton.”

“Talk about fun, hmmm?”

“Stop snickering. I got drafted to help hand out prizes for the best costumes on Carnival Night.”

“Duty calls.”

“In Eleanor Middleton’s case it doesn’t just call, it reaches out, grabs you by the throat and sinks in a pair of fangs. By the way, we’re out of soap in the washroom.”

“The janitorial service comes in tonight. I’ll leave a
note for them. Did you find my emergency stash under the sink?”

“Sure did. Who went on vacation in Hawaii?”

“Parker took me there a couple of months ago. Ten days of fun in the sun. It was great.”

“It sounds wonderful.” Cady looked at her. “So, what’s wrong?”

Leandra’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, damn.”

Cady picked up the box of tissues and offered it to her. “Heard from Dillon again, I take it?”

“He called last night.” Leandra blew into the tissue. “I should have hung up on him, but I didn’t. Why can’t I break this bad habit?”

Cady slowly lowered herself into a chair. “What did he say?”

“Just the usual.” Leandra swallowed, tossed the crumpled tissue into a basket and reached for another. “That he’s changed. That he wants to try again.”

“Leandra, listen closely. Do you think Dillon is dangerous in any way?”

“Dangerous?” Leandra appeared genuinely startled. “Oh, no, he would never hurt me, if that’s what you mean.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Positive.” Leandra tossed the second tissue into the basket. “He’s just a bad habit.”

“Have you told Parker that Dillon is trying to get back into your life?”

“No. Absolutely not. It would worry him.” Leandra slouched dejectedly in her chair. “This is my problem. I want to handle it on my own. I’m a mature, adult woman. I can break the bad-boy habit.”

C
ady walked into the study and propped herself on the edge of the desk.

“What?” Mack asked, not bothering to look up from the screen full of data.

“I just wondered, now that you’ve got Ambrose the wizard on the payroll, do you think he could do a background check on Dillon Spooner?”

He did look up at that. “Probably. Why?”

“Dillon has been calling Leandra a lot since the funeral. Pressing her to give him another chance. Sylvia and I wondered if he might be on the verge of turning into a stalker. I thought maybe you could find out if he has any previous history of that kind of stuff.”

“You’re really worried about this guy Spooner?”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know him very well. All I can tell you for certain is that no one in the family is very fond of him. They all think he married Leandra so that he could get an entrée into the art world and sponge off Aunt Vesta. He was very dedicated to his art. Too dedicated to be bothered with holding down a real job.”

Mack thought about that. “Dedicated or obsessed?”

“I’m not sure,” Cady admitted. “That’s what’s worrying me.”

Mack nodded once. “I’ll see what Ambrose can find out about him. But even if Spooner doesn’t have a history of being a stalker that doesn’t mean he might not become one.”

I
t didn’t take long. Ambrose called with the results less than an hour later.

“Got the three Zs,” he said.

“Three Zs?”

“Zero, zip, zilch. Guy’s got no record with the cops or the courts. Not even a speeding ticket.”

“Anything else of interest show up?”

“Well, his work record is spotty, to put it mildly. Looks like he’s held a couple of dozen part-time jobs in the past
few years. Same pattern every place he goes. Works for a couple of months and then quits.”

“Fired?”

“No. I checked. Spooner’s a good employee as long as he feels like working, but when he gets bored, he leaves without much notice.”

Mack reached for a pen. “Got a current address?”

“Sure. He lives in San Francisco. At the moment he’s working part-time at an art supply store.”

T
wo hours later Dillon Spooner opened the door of his loft apartment. He was a lean man in his late twenties. His head was shaved completely bald, a style that called attention to his high cheekbones. His denim shirt and jeans were spattered with paint. The brush in his hand was stained bloodred.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Mack Easton. I’m a friend of Leandra’s.”

“Leandra?” Dillon looked as if he’d just been poleaxed. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“Take it easy. She’s fine, Spooner. I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. Mind if I come in?”

“Why?” Dillon asked suspiciously.

“It’s about Leandra.”

Dillon hesitated. “Okay.”

A
short time later Dillon handed Mack a paint-stained mug filled with very strong coffee.