Secret Sisters (11 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I can't believe that we're finally getting together again because of what happened here all those years ago,” Madeline said.

“It's ridiculous,” Daphne said. “But the adults involved meant well. They were trying to protect us. Mom was terrified after she talked to your grandmother that night. She couldn't run far enough or fast enough. We actually ended up in Florida for several years, if you can believe it. Mom still lives there.”

“I believe it,” Madeline said. “I saw her face the day the two of you packed up your car and drove away. She was scared to death and she was determined to get you as far away from Cooper Island as possible.”

“And your grandmother was just as determined to keep you safe.”

“I know.”

They were standing in the middle of Tom's cottage. There were two empty suitcases open on the bed. The plan was simple. Supposedly the four of them were on-site doing initial walk-throughs and evaluations of the property in an attempt to decide if renovations were worthwhile.

The reality was that Jack had assigned them to search for anything
of a personal nature that might provide some explanation of Tom's actions in recent days and months.

Jack and Abe were exploring the maintenance building. Madeline knew that Jack would not ask her or Daphne to go inside the structure unless it was absolutely necessary.

Daphne surveyed the drab bedroom. “Judging by the condition of this cottage, I'd guess that Tom didn't change much over the years. Looks like his borderline hoarding tendencies took over.”

“Grandma always said that Tom took the concept of recycling to the extreme.” Madeline picked up a stack of old vinyl records. “But he was always clean.”

Daphne opened the closet and groaned at what she saw. “Jack seems fairly certain that Tom was the one who opened up the wall to get at the briefcase.”

“Yes. But I can't think of any reason why he would do that. I mean, why now?”

“Whatever his reasons, they helped bring you and me back together. I'm glad about that, Maddie.”

Madeline put down the records. “I never got a chance to thank you for what you did that night. I was so traumatized I think I sort of zoned out for a while. By the time I was able to process things, you and your mom were gone.”

Daphne's expression softened. “All I did was run for help. You would have done the same if the situation had been reversed.”

Madeline felt the tears start to gather. “You saved me. And this is the first time I've been able to thank you. I can't believe it.”

“Consider me thanked.” Daphne blinked several times and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “Damn, Maddie, I've missed you. I didn't even know it until now.”

“I missed you, too.” Madeline managed a shaky smile. “We should probably stop crying and practice being girl detectives.”

“Probably.”

“You take that side of the room.” Madeline opened a drawer. “I'll take this side.”

Daphne smiled a little. “Okay.”

Madeline shot her a quick, searching look. “What?”

“Nothing, it's just the way you take charge and start issuing orders. You were that way as a kid, too. Bossy. Born to be an executive, I guess.”

Madeline riffled through a small mountain of faded photographs. “You may be astonished to know that not everyone considers it an endearing character trait.”

“Is that so?” Daphne pulled a box down from the closet shelf. “Who doesn't admire it?”

“I've got a string of ex-boyfriends who will tell you that they found my management style irritating.”

“Is that so? How long is that string of exes?”

“Well, it's not short.” Madeline closed the drawer and opened another one.

“But you don't take pride in it?”

“Nope.” Madeline examined a pile of assorted flashlights. “Sadly, I can't take credit for being a femme fatale. I do have secret powers, though. Turns out being the heir to a profitable chain of hotels is viewed as a very desirable asset in a wife.”

“A-ha. I can see the problem.”

“The last bastard I dated wanted me to fund a study to test his theories of couples therapy, one of which apparently involved the therapist sleeping with the client's wife, who was also a client. Let's just say that I discovered that Dr. Fleming was a devoted practitioner of his own theories.”

Daphne looked up quickly. “You're joking.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“How did you find out Fleming was sleeping with his clients?”

“Had a background check run on him. Standard procedure for me. I've been doing it since I started dating. Grandma insisted.”

“Huh. Not a bad idea, actually.” Daphne's jaw tightened. “These days a woman can't be too careful.”

“That's what Grandma always said.”

“So who exactly do you hire to run that sort of check?”

Madeline raised her brows. “Well, in my case I've always had access to the services of an in-house security company.”

Daphne's eyes widened. “You used Rayner Risk Management?”

“
Used
is the operative word. I got my report, but the investigator who provided it said he wouldn't do any more for me. He said I'd have to go to another agency.”

“Jack Rayner said that? Those were his words?”

“More or less. I got the message.”

“Why did he refuse . . . Oh, wait.” Daphne got a knowing look. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“He probably views running background checks on your dates as a conflict of interest.”

Madeline dropped the old-fashioned camera she had just picked up. “That is exactly what he went to great lengths to explain to me. How in the world did you figure that out? Are you psychic?”

“No, but I'm also not an idiot, Maddie. There's something about the way he looks at you. It's clear that he wants you. What's more, I think you're interested in him. There's a kind of heat in the atmosphere between the two of you.”

Madeline groaned. “Is it that obvious?”

“It is to a sister.”

“Who hasn't seen me in eighteen years and therefore hasn't witnessed the string of disasters that I fondly refer to as romantic
relationships. Here's the bottom line—even if I didn't have to worry that every guy I meet might be after Sanctuary Creek Inns, I have to admit I've got some serious intimacy issues. Inevitably, they get in the way.”

“Given your history, that's perfectly understandable.” Daphne crouched to look under the bed. She grimaced at whatever she saw. “But for what it's worth, I don't think Jack Rayner is interested in your hotels.”

“No, I'll give him that.” Madeline opened a camera box and looked at the ancient device inside. “But there is still the problem of my issues.”

“Did you ever get therapy to talk about those issues?”

“No. There didn't seem to be much point in going to a professional counselor. I knew the source of my problems and I also knew that I could never talk about it.”

“The old family-secret thing.”

Madeline put down the box and surveyed the cluttered room. “And now, for some reason, it looks like Tom Lomax may have decided to reveal that secret.”

“Not necessarily.” Daphne got to her feet. “What if he took the briefcase out of the wall because he was afraid that someone had discovered where it was? Maybe he intended to hide it somewhere else for safekeeping.”

Madeline thought about it. “I suppose that's possible. Tom told me that he had failed. But I think he was hallucinating at the end.”

Daphne circled the bed and hugged her tightly. “From what you've told me, you were nearly killed the other day. And all because of that damned briefcase.”

“It's not just a damned briefcase. I hate to bring up the subject, but there is also the little matter of a dead body buried under the gazebo.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jack surveyed the long, gloom-filled maintenance building. “This looks like the graveyard where old, worn-out tools and equipment come to die.”

The interior of the wooden building was dimly illuminated by the weak daylight slanting through grimy windows. The atmosphere was thick with the odor that was unique to old garages—the unmistakable reek of gasoline, lubricants, and solvents.

The far end of the structure was cluttered with gardening supplies and broken appliances. He and Abe were standing on the opposite side, the portion of the building that had once served as a workshop and garage.

There was an old-fashioned lube pit sunk into the concrete floor. In years past it would have been used to perform oil changes on the hotel's vehicles. But now several ancient mattresses and a lot of yellowed lampshades were stacked inside.

“It's not a graveyard, it's a junkyard.” Abe hefted a large hammer and examined it with an admiring eye. “A very nice junkyard.” He set the hammer down. “What are we looking for?”

“I've got no idea.”

Abe nodded. “That's one of the things I've always admired about you, boss. Your sophisticated, high-tech approach to the business of investigation. Yes, sir, I'm learning a lot from you.”

“I've got no idea what we're looking for, but I do have a question,” Jack said.

“What's that?”

“I've been wondering what Edith and Lomax did with the car.”

Abe gave him a sharp, searching look. “You're talking about Porter's ride?”

Jack played a penlight over an array of rusty drill bits. “We know what they did with the body and the briefcase, but Madeline and Daphne don't have any idea of what happened to the car. All they know is that the next morning it was gone, along with all the records of Porter's reservation.”

Abe looked around. “Well, we know they didn't hide it here in the maintenance building, at least not indefinitely. No sign of any vehicle here. No room for one, either.”

“Eighteen years ago when the hotel was active there probably would have been room.” Jack used the penlight to gesture toward the lube pit and the rows of oil cans on a nearby shelf. “Looks like Lomax did regular vehicle maintenance here back in the day.”

Abe glanced at the lube pit. “So they could have parked Porter's car here, out of sight for a couple of days, until they figured out how to get rid of it.”

“Yeah. But what do you do with a dead man's car on an island?”

“While we're pondering that question, I've got another one.”

“What?”

“What's going on between you and Madeline Chase?” Abe asked. “Seems to be something more developing than just a business relationship.”

“It's complicated.”

“I'll say. A couple of months ago she tried to fire us. You had to go
toe-to-toe with her to keep the contract. This morning I find the two of you having coffee together like you've been married for ten years. Inquiring minds want to know, what's wrong with this picture?”

“She's a client, Abe.”

“Right. Our biggest, most important client.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Abe turned to contemplate a workbench covered with wrenches and screwdrivers. “Got no idea, boss.”

Jack glanced at him. He was pretty sure Abe was smiling a little.

“I couldn't help but notice that you and Daphne Knight seem to be on a first-name basis,” Jack said.

“Yeah, well, you know how it is. Spend a lot of time in someone's company and you get to first names pretty fast.”

“Sure.” Jack relaxed a little. “What's your take on her?”

“Daphne? She's too thin.”

“You've been with her since yesterday and that's your considered analysis of Daphne Knight? She's too thin?”

“She needs to eat more.”

“I don't suppose you noticed anything else that might be of interest in this little murder investigation I'm attempting to run here?”

“Her husband died a year ago.”

“I'm aware of that. Natural causes, though.”

“Yeah, but I think she's having trouble dealing with it.” Abe bent down and pulled a collection of automobile hoses out from under a bench. “Returning to the subject at hand, I'm thinking that if I were tasked with the problem of getting rid of a vehicle that could tie me to a dead man, I might have driven it off a cliff somewhere on the island.”

“I don't think that would have been a good idea, not on this island. The tides around here are pretty extreme. There would have been a very good chance that the dead man's vehicle would have been exposed at low tide or during a storm.”

“Okay, point taken. Maybe Lomax just waited a week or two, drove the car onto the ferry, and ditched it somewhere on the mainland.”

“Possible.” Jack rummaged through a metal cabinet. “But again, there would have been the possibility of someone finding it and tracing it to an owner who had gone missing.”

“True. There would also have been the very real possibility that Lomax would have been seen driving off the island in a car that was not his own. Questions would have been asked. Small towns and all that.” Abe hauled a wheelbarrow out of the corner and started going through the planting supplies stacked behind it. “Got any idea of what might have been in that briefcase?”

“Whatever it was, it scared Edith Chase and Lomax so badly they covered up what most courts would have viewed as a justifiable homicide.”

Abe moved a shovel out of the way so that he could get behind a workbench. “You know how it is with small towns—there's always a hierarchy. The people at the top usually have a lot of influence over local law enforcement.”

“In this town the people at the top are the Websters.”

“So if you killed the guy who was trying to rape your granddaughter and afterward you decided it would be best not to call the police, it might be because you were worried that the Websters wouldn't be pleased.”

“Can't go there just yet. There are plenty of scary people in the world. Mob bosses. Drug cartels. Powerful politicians. Terrorists.” Jack crouched to aim his flashlight under a rusted-out washing machine. “But yeah, this thing feels local.”

“What else do we know?”

“Lomax's murder was intended to look like an accident or, at the very least, the work of a surprised burglar. Someone bashed him on the head and pushed him down a staircase.”

“There are hit men who specialize in making a kill look like an accident.”

“Yes, but the timing feels local, too,” Jack said. “Why else would someone go after the briefcase now, just as Travis Webster is getting ready to run for office?”

“Maybe the more important question is, how did someone find out that there was something dangerous or seriously damaging in the briefcase?”

“That's easy. One of the five people who knew the secret must have talked, and probably recently.”

“Like you say, if more than one person knows a secret, it's no longer a secret. But I'm pretty sure Daphne never talked. She swears she didn't, and she says she is certain her mother didn't, either.”

“Same goes for Madeline and Edith Chase,” Jack said. “That leaves us with Tom Lomax.”

“Daphne and Madeline seem to think he was a confirmed recluse.”

“Who recently got a haircut and started shaving.”

The flashlight played across the corner of a flat metal object lying under the washer. Jack got to his feet.

“Give me a hand with this washer,” he said.

Abe crossed the cluttered space and helped him shove the heavy machine out of the way. Jack aimed the flashlight at the metal object.

“I think we just found out what happened to Porter's car,” Jack said. “It's still here.”