Remember Me (24 page)

He slung an arm around Tina's shoulders, and she smiled up at him. “It's a damn shame that you're spoiling all my surprises, but I have another one for this little lady. Besides the car, I bought her an engagement ring that I was going to give her on her birthday, but with the way things are, she's going to have it on her finger when we go into court next week. Now get out, Coogan. You and your questions make me sick.”

S
o this is where the defense falls apart, Adam thought. In Vivian Carpenter's kitchen. “What do you mean you weren't being straight with me?” he snapped.

Scott Covey studied his untouched glass of beer. He did not look at Adam as he said, “I told you that I didn't see Tina from the time I married Vivian except that day in the pub and when she came here to offer condolences. That's true. What isn't true is the impression I gave you that she and I called it quits last summer.”

“You saw her after you left the Cape last August?”

“She came down to Boca five or six times. I've been wanting to tell you; I'm sure your investigator will find out anyhow.”

“The investigator I want is on vacation till next week. But you're right. He would have found out. And so will the district attorney's office, if they haven't already.”

Scott pushed back his chair and got up. “Adam, I feel like a louse saying this, but it's true. I did break off with Tina last August. It wasn't just that I was seeing Viv. It was that Tina wanted to get serious and I didn't. Then when I got to Boca, I realized that I missed Viv a lot. Usually these summer romances fizzle. You know that. I phoned Viv and realized she felt the same way about me. She came down to Boca, we met in New York a few times and by spring we both were sure we wanted to get married.”

“If you're telling the truth now, why didn't you tell it from the beginning?” Adam shot the question accusingly.

“Because Fred doesn't know that Tina was still seeing me over the winter. It didn't bother him that she dated other guys, but he really hates me because she dropped him for me last summer. That was the real reason she asked me to meet her. She wanted to see me face to face and hear me promise never to tell anyone that she'd been down to Florida.”

“Did you see her after she walked out of the pub that day?”

Scott shrugged. “I called her and said that whatever she had to talk about, she'd have to say it on the phone. Then when I heard what it was, I laughed. I asked her who she thought I was going to tell about her coming to Boca. What kind of jerk did she think I was?”

“I think we're going to need a few witnesses at the inquest to testify that Tina was chasing you, and not
the other way around. Is there anyone you can suggest?”

Scott brightened. “A couple of the other waitresses at the Daniel Webster Inn. Tina used to be friendly with them, but then they got mad at her. She told me they were sore because some of the regular customers who are big tippers requested to be seated at one of her tables.”

“Tina seems to play all the angles,” Adam said. “I hope her friend Fred doesn't mind having it publicly aired that she was lying to him.” Why did I get myself into this? he wondered again. He still believed that Scott Covey's wife died in a tragic accident, but he also believed that Covey had been using Tina until Vivian decided to marry him. This guy may be innocent of murder, but it doesn't keep him from being a sleaze, he thought.

Suddenly this smallish kitchen seemed to close in on Adam. He wanted to get back to Menley and Hannah. They would have only a few days together before he had to take Menley to the hospital in New York. He would have to begin to prepare her for that. “Give me the names of those waitresses,” he said abruptly.

“Liz Murphy and Alice Regan.”

“Write them down. Let's hope they still work there.” Adam turned and left the kitchen.

As he passed the dining room he glanced in. A large framed picture was on the table; it was the aerial view of Remember House Elaine had had in the window. He went over to examine it.

Beautiful photography, he thought. The house seemed majestically aloof. The colors were spectacular—the rich green-leaved branches of the trees surrounding the house, the purple-blue hydrangeas bordering the foundation, the blue-green ocean, tranquil with a lazy surf. You could even see strollers on
the beach and a small boat anchored just below the horizon.

“I'd love to have this,” he commented.

“It's a gift from Elaine,” Scott said quickly. “Otherwise I'd give it to you. She seems to think that if you don't buy Remember House, I'd be interested.”

“Would you be?”

“If Viv were alive, yes. As it stands, no.” He hesitated. “What I mean is, in my present frame of mind, no. Maybe I'll feel differently if a judge clears me.”

“Looking at this picture would certainly be an incentive to buy the place. It is for me,” Adam said. Then he turned to leave. “I'm on my way. We'll talk later.”

He was getting into his car when Henry Sprague waved him over. “I've found more material that I think Menley would be interested in,” he explained. “Come in; let me give it to you.”

The file was on the foyer table. “And Phoebe is very insistent that this doll belongs in Remember House. I don't know why she thinks that, but would you mind taking it with you?”

“Menley will probably be delighted to see it,” Adam said. “It certainly is a genuine antique. Don't be surprised if it shows up sketched in her book. Thanks, Henry. How's Phoebe today?”

“Napping right now. She didn't have a good night. I don't know if I told you; I'm putting her in the nursing home as of the first of the month.”

“You didn't tell me. I'm sorry.”

As Adam tucked the file under his arm and picked up the doll, he was startled by a scream. “She's having another nightmare,” Henry said, and rushed toward the bedroom, Adam behind him.

Phoebe was lying on the bed, her hands covering her face. Henry bent over and took her hands in his. “It's all right, dear,” he said soothingly.

She opened her eyes, looked up at him, then turned her head and saw Adam holding the doll. “Oh, they did drown her,” she sighed. “But I'm glad they decided to let the baby live.”

M
enley phoned Carrie Bell at four o'clock. Carrie's initial cautious response when Menley identified herself was replaced by genuine warmth when she realized the reason for the call.

“Oh, that's wonderful,” she said. “I sure can use the money. I've lost a lot of work these two weeks.”

“A lot of work?” Menley asked. “Why is that?”

“Oh, I shouldn't have said that. I'll be over tomorrow morning bright and early. Thank you, Mrs. Nichols.”

Menley told Amy about the conversation. “Do you know what she could have meant about losing a lot of work?”

Amy looked uncomfortable. “It's just that Elaine recommends her to people who are selling or renting their houses. Carrie goes in for a couple of days and is really good at making a house look great. But Elaine says that, because she's a terrible gossip, she's not sending her out on new jobs. She even tried to get my father to fire her.”

*   *   *

Over dinner, Menley told Adam about that conversation. “Don't you think that was mean?” she asked as she ladled a second helping of chili onto his plate. “From what Amy tells me, Carrie Bell is a hardworking single mother, supporting a three-year-old.”

“This is your best chili ever,” Adam commented. “To answer you, I know Carrie's good. She cleaned the cottage I took last year when I came up alone. But I also know that Elaine is a hard worker. It's no accident that she's as successful as she is, because she doesn't leave anything to chance. If she thinks Carrie Bell's gossip is hurting her chances of selling houses, Carrie's out of a job. Oh, did I mention that besides the food I like the ambience?”

Menley had turned off the overhead light and put the wall sconces on the dim setting. They were sitting opposite each other at the refectory table. All Phoebe Sprague's research data and books, as well as Menley's own notes and sketches, were now in the library.

“I decided that since we always eat in here, it's a shame to have it so cluttered,” she explained.

That was only part of the truth, she acknowledged to herself. The rest was that when Adam had gotten home late in the afternoon and given her the heavy file he'd gotten from Henry Sprague, she had glanced through it and been shocked to see the sketch of Mehitabel and Andrew on the ship. It was exactly as she had visualized them. There has to be another picture of them in all this stuff, she thought, and I must have seen it. But it was one more example of forgetting something important.

That was when she decided to put the Remember House research aside for a few days and get the
Travel Times
article out of the way. She'd phoned Jan Paley, who agreed to line up some historical homes for her to visit.

“The stories you told me about the houses where
people sense a presence would be perfect,” she had told Jan. “I know the editor would love it.” And I want to know what those people have to say, she'd thought.

“Did you do much writing today, or are you still digging through Phoebe's files?” Adam asked.

“Neither actually; I was working on something else.” She told him about her call to Jan and what she planned to do.

Did I rush that explanation? Menley wondered. It sounded so rehearsed.

“Ghost stories?” Adam smiled. “You don't believe in that nonsense.”

“I believe in legends.” She noticed the chili had disappeared from his plate. “You were hungry. What did you have for lunch?”

“A hamburger, but that was a long time ago. 'Laine was with me. We went over her testimony for the inquest.”

There was always something affectionate, even intimate, about the way Adam spoke when he referred to Elaine. She had to ask. “Adam, were you ever involved with Elaine, I mean more than as a big buddy?”

He looked uncomfortable. “Oh, we dated on and off as kids, and sometimes when I spent time at the Cape during law school, we got together.”

“And never since then?”

“Oh, hell, Men, you don't expect me to kiss and tell. Before I met you, I used to bring the girl I was dating up here for a long weekend when my mother still had the big place. Other times I came alone. If neither one of us was busy, 'Laine and I would go out. But that was years ago. No big deal.”

“I see.” Get off it, Menley told herself. The last thing you need to start is a discussion on Elaine.

Adam was stretching his hand across the table. “I'm
with the only girl I've ever really loved and wanted to be with,” he said. He paused. “We've had more ups and downs in five years than most people experience in a lifetime. All I care about is getting through them and being on firm ground again.”

Menley touched her fingertips to his. She pulled them back. “Adam, you're trying to tell me something, aren't you?”

With increasing horror, she listened as he told her his plan:

“Men, when I spoke to Dr. Kaufman, she said that she thought you would benefit from aggressive therapy. It's one thing to have a flashback to the accident. It's another to think you heard Bobby calling and run through the house looking for him. She wants you to be an inpatient for just a short time.”

It was exactly what she had feared.

“I'm getting better, Adam.”

“I know how hard you're trying. But after the inquest it would be better if we took her advice. You know you trust her.”

In that moment she hated him and knew it showed in her face. She turned and saw that he had put the antique doll in Hannah's high chair. Now it stared at her with fixed china blue eyes, a parody of the miracle that was Hannah.

“We're not talking about trusting Dr. Kaufman, we're talking about trusting
me.”

J
an Paley had been surprised and pleased to receive the phone call from Menley Nichols that afternoon. Menley had asked about historical houses with legends attached to them. “By historical, I mean good examples of early architecture, and by legends, I mean stories about an unexplainable presence, a ghost,” Menley told her.

Jan had readily agreed to be her guide. She'd immediately sat down and made a list of the places she would take her.

The old Dillingham house in Brewster was one they would visit. It was the second oldest house on the Cape. Over the years some of the people who rented it claimed to have gotten the impression of a woman passing the door of one of the bedrooms.

The Dennis Inn was another place to take her. The proprietors even had a nickname for the playful spirit who constantly wrought havoc in the kitchen. They called her Lillian.

They could visit Sarah Nye, the friend she had mentioned to Menley when they spoke at Elaine's party. Sarah was sure she was sharing her house with the lady for whom it had been built in 1720.

And what about the saltbox in Harwich that now
was an interior designer's shop on the entry level? The owners claimed they entertained a resident ghost and were convinced she was a sixteen-year-old who had died there in the nineteenth century.

Jan made some calls, set up appointments and phoned Menley back. “We're all set. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at about ten o'clock.”

“That's fine, and Jan, do you know anything about an antique doll that Phoebe Sprague was keeping? Henry told Adam that she insists it belongs in Remember House.”

“Oh, did she find it?” Jan exclaimed. “I'm so glad. Tom discovered it under the eaves in the attic. God only knows how long it had been there. Phoebe wanted to show it to an antiques expert. Some research she had done suggested it actually might have belonged to Mehitabel. I didn't realize at that time that Phoebe's memory was beginning to slip. She put the doll somewhere and then couldn't find it.”