Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evie (8 page)

“You’ll get your turn, newbie. Just think, undercover on your first case. Something to tell your kids.” Max shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Can we get down to business now,
Nate
?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nate Darling had the reputation of being a good co
p, sharp, thorough. And he obvi
ously didn’t like coming in second, Max understood completely, which didn’t mean he was going to cut the smug bastard any slack.

“Okay,” Max admitted. “I’ve got a problem here.”

“There’s always Viagra.”

“Oh, you have some left over?” Max jibed. “Look, you’ve read all the files on the Heyworth murder, right?”

“Yeah,” Nate groused. “So T.
E. Heyworth was your stepfather. His books are crap.”

Max smirked. “Well, if you think that’s going to hurt my feelings, guess again. Heyworth wrote mysteries because he already had money. Writing was a hobby, not a driving force in his life. His family made their millions during Prohibition bringing bootleg liquor into the States from Canada.” Taking a breath, he said, “Did Edmunds tell you anything about his clue?”

“Just that it was a passage from one of Heyworth’s books.”

Max looked up at the moon as an owl screeched and circled high overhead. “I need you to help me keep an eye on Evie in case there are any other attempts on her life. I’ve already talked with the staff. Nobody claims to know anything about how that hole got in the barn floor.”

Nate ran his fingers through his hair. “What about the accusations Heyworth made, about one of the treasure hunters being his killer? Do you really think he knew who killed him?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Max said. “All we can do is follow it up and hope for some viable evidence.” Max shifted his position and stretched his back. Behind him, he heard Fernando snort.

“You know anything about llamas?” Max asked.

“Yeah. My sister-in-law did that with both her kids.”

“Not Lamaze, you bonehead.
Llamas
.” He pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I think they spit.”

“Well that helps. Tell me about Lorna Whitney.” Max wasn’t sure, but he thought Nate blushed at the sound of the secretary’s name, yet when he spoke, his tone was professional and detached.

“Lorna Anne Whitney. Age thirty. Moved to Washington from California to work for Heyworth two weeks before he left on his book tour, but because she was new on the job and settling in, she didn’t go with him.” He cleared his throat. “She has an alibi for the day of the murder, and absolutely no motive. As for the rest of the staff, we have Mrs. Stanley, the cook, and her husband Earl. He’s the gardener. Nothing on either of them.”

“Then there’s the butler,” Max said. “Let’s see. Alexander Edmunds. Born in London, came to the U.S. thirty-five years ago and went to work for Thomas Heyworth. Eventually became a citizen. No arrests, no convictions, nada.”

“And no reason to kill his boss?”

“Nothing obvious.”

“That leaves us with Evie and the psychic. Is the Randall woman a viable suspect?” Nate asked.

“They’re all viable suspects,” Max said.

“You know what I mean.”

“No
I
don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I may be new at this, but I’m not blind and stupid. You’re attracted to her.”

“Nate, old man,” Max said, glaring into the other detective’s eyes. “I’m not new at this, and I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid, either.”

“What in the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lorna Whitney is a suspect, and I’ve seen the way you—”

“Max?” A woman’s voice, coming from up the path somewhere behind the trees. “Max! Are you out here?”

Evie. She sounded panicked. If somebody
had tried to hurt her again…

“Max?” As she quickly approached, Nate stepped into the shadows and disappeared.

“Here, I’m here,” Max said as he grabbed her by the arms to keep her from running smack into him, not that he would have minded.

“Oh! Max,” she panted, her chest heaving. “They’ve
…
I can’t believe
…
don’t understand—”

“Hang on. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” His arms had automatically wrapped around her as she clung to him trying to catch her breath.

He slid his knuckles under her chin and lifted her face to his. Oh, ma
n. The look in her eyes by moon
light went straight to his soul.

“Tell me,” he said.

“They’re g-gone,” she panted.

“Who’s gone?”

“I never would have believed it, but they’ve taken the yacht and gone ashore.”

“
Who?”

“E-Edmunds,” she stammered. “And Madame Grovda. They’ve gone after the next clue.”

Chapter 8

D
ear
D
iary:

Last night the police came
to our house again. My mother’s n
ew boyfriend was yelling at her really loud and
h
e shoved her.
I
sneaked in
t
o the kitchen and called
911
, but
I
didn’t know what to say,
s
o
I
hung up.
But the policemen came anyway. I
didn’t want my mother to get in
t
o trouble, but
I
was afraid he would hurt her like the last one did.
I
jus
t
wanted the yelling
to stop so I
could go to sleep. When
I grow up, I am going to be v
ery careful about getting boyfriends.

E
vangeline—age 10

M
ax stared down into Evie’s eyes, not sure how to react. While he was furious that Edmunds and the Grovda woman had bolted, the image of the austere
butler and the flamboyant Russian psychic hot on the trail of Clue Number Two seemed too ludicrous to be real.

“How long ago did they leave?” he asked as Evie caught her breath and pushed herself out of his arms.

Bathed by the light of the moon, she looked like some kind of ethereal maiden, her red hair down and flowing around her shoulders. She wore a white nightgown and robe, and looked as though she should be haunting a man’s dreams rather than running about the woods at midnight. He hadn’t missed the soft fullness of her breasts pressed against his chest as he held her close. He hadn’t missed a damned thing.

“I was asleep,” she said. “A noise woke me and I realized it was the yacht’s engines. I can’t
believe
Edmunds did this, Max. It’s so unlike him to be so
…
well, rash.”

“Why would he take such a risk, Evie?” Max said. “Does he have some special incentive? Something to hide, maybe?”

She scowled at him and put her hands on her hips, which opened the front of her robe, revealing the thrust of her breasts under the thin fabric.

“If you mean, did Edmunds kill Thomas,” she snapped, “no way, Jose.”

“Oh, so Hey
worth is off limits, and now so is Edmunds? Your loyalty is admirable, even if a little misplaced.”

“Says you,” she huffed.

Her loyalty
was
admirable, and for a split second he wondered what it would be like to have her on
his side, doubling her fists on her hips, challenging all comers in his defense.

Reaching for her robe, he grasped the lapels and yanked them toge
ther, covering her bosom. Unfor
tunately, the action caused his knuckles to brush her nipples, sending hot blood surging through his body to the point where his brain damn near emptied. “Keep that thing shut, will you?”

She looked down and curled her fingers around the robe, clasping it tightly to her throat. “Oh. Sorry. I just threw it on and came looking for you. When you weren’t in your room, I checked the house, then figured maybe you’d gone for a walk or something.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he lied. “Let’s go.”

Taking Evie by the arm, he ushered her back up the path. As they walked he said, “We can compare our clues with Dabney and Lorna’s. If we’re lucky, maybe we can figure out where Edmunds and Madame Grovda have gone.”

As they hurried up the path, Max pulled out his cell phone and cal
led the PHPD. The Port Henry Po
lice Department was small, but so was the town, so he hoped there was one available officer this time of night who could get down to the dock and meet the Hatteras. Unless, of course, Edmunds had put ashore elsewhere.

By the time they reached the mansion, he’d put in a second call, to the Harbor Patrol. Unfortunately, since Edmunds hadn’t done anything illegal, neither agency could be expected to drop everything to look for a butler and a psychic motoring around Puget Sound in an expensive yacht.

Edmunds had seemed stable, reasonable. What in hel
l
was he doing racing off in the middle of the night? Had he killed Heyworth and was desperate to find the last clue and destroy it? Or was he trying to get away, flee to Canada? Did he want to win the money so much he’d basically break the rules they’d agreed on? Or, maybe, he w
as trying to protect someone…

B
y the time they’d awakened Lorna and both women had dressed and come downstairs, it was nearly one in the morning. Max and Nate Darling, aka Dabney James, sa
t at the dining room table, try
ing to make sense of their clues, while Evie and Lorna had gone to the kitchen to make coffee.

According to the Port Henry Police Department, the Hatteras had already anchored at Heyworth’s private dock, but the Dippity Duo was nowhere to be found. Since none of the Mayhem Manor cars had been taken, it was assumed they’d used Madame Grovda’s vehicle, which had apparently not been parked in the secured lot.

Max rubbed his eyes. “Why’s the coffee taking so long?”

Nate shoved away from the table and stood, stretching his arms. “Maybe they’ve stolen the runabout and left us stranded here.”

Max rose from his chair and approached the closed kitchen door, stopping just outside to listen.

Feminine voices, the
swoosh
of running tap water, the
tink
of metal against porcelain…
the women were in there all right.

“
…
blockheads
…
”

Max’s mouth flattened. It was the second time he’d heard that term recently. Just who was Evie calling a blockhead now? Nate sidled up next to him and cocked an ear to the door.

“…
all jerks, if you ask me.” Evie. Loud and clear.

Max stifled a laugh.

“That Max Galloway,” she fumed. “He’s
…
he’s
…
he’s arrogant and controlling and smug. I’ll bet, when it comes to women, he’s only after one thing.”

“Aren’t
we
after the same thing?” Lorna’s softer voice challenged Evie.

“Sure we are,” Evie said. “But women generally like to have their hearts engaged when they become physically involved with a man. But you know what they say: Men are like mascara; they run at the first sign of emotion.”

Lorna snickered. The quiet secretary didn’t seem to have a lot of experience with men, Max thought, so she probably wouldn’t—

“I think men are like commercials,” the quiet secretary who didn’t seem to have a lot of experience with men said. “You can’t believe a word they say.” Max flicked a glance at Nate, who pursed his lips. Evie again: “I don’t know. I think men are like blenders. You know you have to have one, you just don’t know why.”

“Men are like copiers,” Lorna mused. “You need them for reproduction, but that’s just about
it.”

The two women burst out laughing while Max and Nate scowled.

“Men,” Evie said, elongating the
n,
“are like
coolers. You just load them up with beer and you can take them anywhere.” Then she made a noise that sounded a lot like a snort.

Cooler, my ass, thought Max. The poor woman was obviously delirious from lack of sleep after all she’d been through.

Lorna sighed. “Well, I think men are like lava lamps. Interesting to look at, but not all that
bright
.”

Next to him, Nate was glaring at the closed door.

“Men are like chocolate,” Evie purred. “Tasty, smooth, and they head
right
for your hips.”

Okay, he’d give her that one. He imagined Evie’s hips, the nip of her waist, the firmness of her bottom. Then he imagined his hands on those hips, pulling her snuggly into his crotch.

His smile faded as the aforementioned crotch began to respond.

“Men are like spray paint,” accused Lorna. “One little squeeze and they’re all over you.”

“You said it, sister,” growled Evie. “And they’re like plungers. They spend most of their lives in hardware stores or the bathroom.”

Lorna laughed for a moment, and when she’d wound down, she said, “Men are like coffee. The best ones are rich, hot, full-bodied, and keep you up all night.”

As the two women giggled and snorted themselves into a stupor, Max flicked another glance at Nate, who was pushing his glasses back up on his nose and shaking his head.

Evie gasped for air, then choked, “No, wait. Men are like vacations. Never long enough.” Tittering
like a giddy hyena, she stammered, “Or like surprise snowstorms. You never know how many inches you’ll get, how long they’ll last, or when they’re coming!”

The two woman erupted into guffaws and giggles as Max and Nate met each other’s eyes. Finally, Max said, “Enough of this crap.”

Pushing the door open, he stepped into the kitchen, Nate right on his heels.

“Is that coffee ready yet?” he said, looking pointedly at the coffeemaker burbling and sputtering away on the counter. “Mmm. Smells great. Rich, hot, full-bodied, just the way I like it.”

The women’s laughter ceased abruptly and they eyed the men, then looked at each other.

“Sure you want a cup?” Nate said. “Liable to keep you up all night.”

Evie scowled and passed a glance from one man to the other.

As Max pulled a coffee mug from the cupboard and handed it to Nate, he said, “Hell, I don’t need caffeine to keep
me
up all night, buddy.
I
could outlast the Energizer Bunny.”

Lorna blinked, raised her chin and slid a look to Evie.

“Hey, James,” Max said, pouring coffee for the two of them. “Where are you going on vacation this year? I hear it snows like hell up on Snoqualmie Pass.”

Evie crossed her arms under her breasts and stood with her weight shifted to one leg.

Nate took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, well, you know what they say about winter vacations. They’re
too short, and all the women are like lava lamps, kind of pear-shaped with a cold glob of wax where their hearts should be.”

“How true, how true,” Max said, shaking his head. “Actually, I think it’s more that the women are like cans of spray paint. Cylindrical, with little heads that you’ve got to keep your thumb on if you want to get anything out of them.” He rolled his eyes, then took a sip of coffee.

“Yeah? Well, I heard that the women are all like chocolate bars.”

“Ah, right. Stiff as boards and nutty as hell—”

“You were
eavesdropping
on us?” Evie blinked in wide-eyed astonishment while Lorna turned ten shades of pink.

Max sent Evie a sardonic grin. “You know what they say. Me
n are like broken toasters…
always popping up at the wrong time.”

Evie and Lorna glanced at each other, then back at the men, and scowled.

“You’re disgusting,” accused Evie. “Both of you.”

Max took another sip of coffee, then said, “I love your rules, sweetheart. It’s against the rules for me to bust Heyworth’s chops. It’s against the rules to say anything even remotely negative about Edmunds. However, you can dis the male of the species with impunity, huh?”

Evie shrugged. “Works for me.”

“Fine,” he groused. “Well, if you two have gotten all that man-hating vitriol out of your systems now, can we get down to business?”

She glared at him, but nodded. Lorna and Nate
exchanged glances, but neither said anything.

Reining in his temper, Max said, “Did you mean it when you said you knew what our clue meant?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I want you to take a look at Dabney and Lorna’s clue and tell me if you think they lead to the same place.”

Her haughty glare still in place, she reached for the coffeepot and said, “Happy to oblige, Detective.” Then, turning to face him, her fingers curled around a mug of steaming coffee, she said, “What, uh, what are you going to do to Edmunds when we catch up with him?”

“That depends.”

Her blue eyes snapped with anger. “That’s a pretty ambiguous answer.”

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

“
T
hese two clues are definitely from the same novel, but different passages have been quoted,” Evie mused, her gaze still on the pieces of paper on the table in front of her. “I’d say they lead to the same physical location.”

Max nodded. “I guess Heyworth didn’t want whoever got there first to destroy the clue, so he planted three, one for each team. Seems fair.”

Evie smiled to herself. “That sounds exactly like what Thomas would do. For my thirteenth birthday, he wanted to give me a party as a surprise, but he didn’t know who my friends were and was afraid of leaving somebody out. So he invited the whole school. All the kids and all the teachers, even the
custodian and the cafeteria staff.” Her smile widened. “He turned the island into a play park for a whole weekend, with games and circus performers and incredible food. It was an absolute blast.” He’d spent a fortune on that party, but the only gift he’d given her was a porcelain figurine of a llama. That, and a memory she could cherish forever.

“Th-That sounds wonderful,” Lorna said, her lashes fluttering as though she had something in her
eye.
“What a thoughtful thing to do.”

Max sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Thanks for that touching little walk down memory lane,” he growled. “Heyworth had a heart. Go figure. Now tell me about the clues.”

He was hopeless. Evie gave her head a shake, then returned to the pieces of paper on the table in front of her.

She’d examined both passages, and there was no mistaking where T
homas intended the search to be
gin. If the same held true for the third team, Edmunds and Madame Grovda were well on their way to finding their second clue.