It was the sound of Mitch touching down on the floor of Spence Sibley’s closet that brought Des running.
Not that she had even the remotest idea what had happened. Her first thought was that Astrid’s Castle had just taken a direct hit from a short-range ballistic missile. It shook the floorboards and sent everyone spilling out of their rooms into the hallway, terrified. Everyone except for Spence, that is. When Des heard two-count ’em, two-male voices coming out of his room, she pounded on Spence’s door and was greeted by none other than Mitch. Also by a huge white Maine coon cat that Des hadn’t realized was even around until that very second.
How did Mitch and that cat get inside of Spence’s locked room?
She didn’t know. She only knew that Spence looked very unhappy.
Mitch, meanwhile, was grinning at her like a gleeful, moon-faced boy. “There’s a trapdoor,” he explained, tugging her toward the closet so she could see for herself.
“Time out. Where did this damned cat come from?” Des demanded, utterly bewildered. She also didn’t like to be tugged. Never had.
“That’s Isabella,” Jory answered from the doorway, where she and the others were clustered. “She’s the castle’s unofficial mascot. Hey, Izzy. Here, girl…”
The big white cat padded right over to Jory, who bent over and picked her up. Isabella scrambled up onto her shoulder and perched there contentedly.
“She patrols the gardens most of the year,” Jory said, stroking her. “Just loves being outside, don’t you, girl? When it gets cold, she takes up residence on the third floor. We have a problem with mice up there. Plus Les couldn’t be around her. He was allergic to cats.”
“So she’s got food up there?”
“She’s got everything up there,” Mitch answered. “A bed, a litter box, hot and cold-running mousy toys.” He lowered his voice, adding, “The towels in her bathroom are damp, by the way,”
“Who takes care of her?” Des asked Jory.
“Norma did. Izzy was her cat, really.”
“Was Norma likely to go up there in the middle of the night?”
“If she was awake, sure.”
“Jory, why didn’t you mention this to me before?”
“I wouldn’t have let her starve or anything.” Jory stuck her chin out defensively. “It just seemed like you had more important things to worry about.”
“True, that,” Des conceded, studying the opening in Spence’s closet ceiling. “What can you tell me about this trapdoor?”
“It’s a fire escape. Most of the old three-story houses had them. Otherwise, folks could get trapped in their top-floor rooms if a fire broke out during the night. Actually, those trapdoors were the only fire escape system Astrid’s had when Jase and I were little. Remember, sweetie?”
Jase nodded his furry head.
“Then the fire code got stricter and they had to install a sprinkler system and fireproof steel doors to the back stairs.”
“Are you telling me that all of these second-floor rooms have trapdoors like this?”
“Well, yeah,” Jory replied. “They carpeted over them upstairs but the rugs are just kind of toenailed in. In an emergency, there’s no harm in having an extra way out.”
“I do not believe this,” Des fumed, realizing she hadn’t gone in their closet last night. Hadn’t so much as opened the door. Just thrown her clothes over a chair and jumped into bed, as had Mitch.
“Hey, look at it this way,” he said brightly. “We can definitely set aside our ghost theory now.”
“Mitch, did you just land on your head?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Can you keep an eye on these folks for me?”
“Absolutely.”
Des herded everyone into Spence’s room, then unlocked the housekeeping closet out in the hall and fetched a broom. She went from room to room, checking the closet ceilings. Each had a trapdoor, just as Jory had said. With the broom handle, each trapdoor could easily be pushed open under the detachable third-floor rug-including the trapdoor in the very room she and Mitch had slept in. She positioned the dressing table chair underneath theirs. Standing on it, she did not find it particularly hard to pull herself up and into the closet of the third-floor room directly overhead. Admittedly, it was her business to stay fit. But any of these people could have managed the physical part of this, she believed. With the possible exception of Teddy. And Teddy wasn’t an issue since he had been downstairs playing the piano, not locked away in his room.
Des nosed her way around the chilly, vacant third floor, her mind quickly playing it out. Once Les’s killer had made it up here, he or she could have accessed the staff stairs by means of the third-floor hallway door and taken those stairs straight on down to the kitchen, bypassing her second-floor lookout entirely. After cold-cocking Mitch and killing Les, he or she had then stashed their wet things somewhere and returned to the third floor by those same stairs-using the towels in Isabella’s bathroom to dry off before dropping back down into their room, completely undetected. A well-positioned chair would have prevented the seismic disturbance that Mitch had set off when he’d touched down.
Des stretched a length of crime scene tape across the bathroom door, wondering how many sets of fingerprints they would find in there, and to whom they might belong. She also devoted a great deal of energy to beating the living crap out of herself for not hanging up her pants in the damned closet last night. If only she’d gone in there. If only she’d gone in there and looked up. If she had, Les Josephson would still be alive right now. This should not have happened. No, it should not. She was off her game. Enraged, she paced the third-floor corridor, calling herself any number of vile, politically incorrect names.
Her cell phone squawked. She went over by the windows in Isabella’s room to answer it.
And Soave said to her: “Yo, you are on a roll, Master Sergeant.”
“Could have fooled me,” she growled back at him.
“Hey, I don’t like your tone of voice. You sound down to me. Are you down?”
“Rico, I don’t have very much to be up about right now.”
“You can’t do this to me, Des. I need you to be up.”
“Yeah, why is that?”
“You’re my mentor, that’s why. If a boy sees his mentor falter, it completely wrecks him.”
“Rico, maybe the blood to my brain is starting to freeze, but you actually sound serious.”
“Des, I totally am.”
“In that case, feel free to cheer me up. What do you have? And please make it good.”
“Yolie got through to Tom Maynard of Dorset Pharmacy.”
“What did Tom have to say?”
Des’s heart immediately started beating faster as Soave told her.
“So, what, you’re not getting anywhere at your end?” he asked when he was done reporting.
“Starting right now I am, Rico,” she said, gazing out the window at the frozen outside world. “Believe it or not, the snow has just about stopped here. How is it where you are?”
“Same. The SP-One pilot says he’ll be good to go by the time we get there. Yolie’s on her way over here right now. I figure we’ll be on your doorstep in an hour, maybe ninety minutes. Sound good?”
“Way better than good. See you then, wow man.”
After she rang off, Des idled there by the windows for a moment with her engine revving. Then she shook herself and went down through the open trapdoor into Spence’s closet, with an assist by Mitch.
“Okay, everyone, new plan,” she announced briskly. “We’re moving downstairs to the taproom until the Major Crime Squad arrives.”
“Oh, thank God,” Carly sighed in relief.
“Amen,” echoed Teddy.
“Sanity restored,” Aaron declared, nodding his large head in agreement. “At long last.”
“Is it okay if I make us some sandwiches and coffee?” Jory asked.
“Good idea.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Hannah said.
“Now can I go get some firewood?” Jase asked somewhat woefully.
“I’m afraid not, Jase. The woodshed is a crime scene, off limits.” As the young caretaker’s face fell, Des added, “But I do have a job for you. The parking lot needs to be plowed. Could you do that for me?”
“You bet.” Jase brightened considerably. “Be happy to.”
“You’ll be needing the keys to your truck.” She reached into her pocket for his key ring.
“Naw, I left ’em in the ignition. Always do.”
Typical Dorset behavior. Des had never lived in a place where so many drivers left their keys in their cars. In fact, she hadn’t known such places still existed. “Mitch can give you a hand,” she said, glancing at her doughboy. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Totally,” Mitch assured her. “Let’s get cracking, amigo.”
They all started out of Spence’s room now.
Until, that is, Des put her hand on Spence’s arm to stop him. “We need to talk,” she told the studio executive.
“Whatever you want,” he said readily.
Spence had kept a small fire going in his room. He poked at it and fed it with the last log from his woodpile, then sat in the armchair before it, looking very at ease and preppy in his burgundy crewneck sweater and flannel slacks. He was a handsome, well-put-together man. But he was also the type of man whom Des had never been attracted to. Too much smooth, corporate charm. Too few endearing personal quirks-they’d been bred out of him. Des preferred men who came fully equipped with all of their rough edges and flaws and surprises. Men like Mitch who were, for better or worse, real.
“What’s that you’re working on?” she asked, noticing the Astrid’s stationery and ballpoint pen parked on the end table at Spence’s elbow.
“A good old-fashioned love letter,” he replied.
Des turned the desk chair around and sat, gazing at him. Spence gazed right back at her, unperturbed. He gave every indication of being agreeable, sincere and innocent. If this man was a cold-blooded killer, then he was in the wrong end of the film business-he belonged in front of the cameras.
“I understand from Mitch that you’ve stayed at Astrid’s before.”
“Many times, yes. Ever since I was a little boy. We held our Sibley family reunions here.”
“Did you know anything about those trapdoors?”
Spence let out a laugh. “Hell, yes. Every red-blooded kid who’s ever stayed here knows about them. My cousins and I used to sneak from room to room in the middle of the night. We’d tell ghost stories, smoke cigarettes, major mischief like that. It was great fun.”
“What happened to Les wasn’t great fun,” Des pointed out, knowing that it would be a long time before she forgot the sight of the innkeeper on the woodshed floor with that hatchet stuck in his head. She’d taken photographs, her third set of the day. It would take her months to draw her way out of this particular winter storm. “Someone used their trapdoor to sneak out and kill him.”
“I realize that,” Spence said somberly, lowering his eyes.
“Why didn’t you warn me about them, Spence? Don’t you realize you could have prevented his death?”
“You seemed very sure of what you were doing, so I assumed that you knew. Didn’t think it through, I guess. I should have spoken up. You’re absolutely right.” He glanced up at her uncertainly. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
“I have no reason not to,” she replied, wondering if he was lying to her. But say he was. Say he was behind all of this. How on earth had he been thinking he’d get away with it? He wasn’t dumb, and sure didn’t seem crazy.
“Do you have any idea who did it?” he asked her.
“It could have been anyone. Anyone who knew about those trapdoors. I assume Aaron does. Hannah I’m not so sure about. What would you say?”
“About Hannah? I wouldn’t know. You’d have to ask her.”
“Then again, it could have been you.”
“Well, it wasn’t,” he assured her wholeheartedly. “I have nothing to do with any of this. I’m as shocked and horrified as can be. Plus I’ve just watched a solid month of hard work go right down the drain. I can’t begin to tell you how many man-hours I’ve spent putting this damned weekend together. The movie-going public thinks these gala events just happen. That the stars rush in to attend every tribute or benefit that comes along. Trust me, they don’t. They have to be begged, every last one of them.”
“There’s something personal I need to ask you about, Spence.”
“Absolutely. Fire away.”
“Carly told me she heard you entertaining someone in here last night.”
Spence reddened, but said nothing.
“The strange part is that she swears she didn’t hear anyone come in or out of this room all night long.”
“What was she doing, spying on me?” Irritation had crept into his voice.
“No, on her beloved Acky. You just got caught in the crossfire.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Carly also mentioned hearing footsteps up on the third floor. I didn’t know about the trapdoors at the time. But now that I do I’m sitting here thinking this must be how your late-night visitor got in and out of here, am I right?”
Spence thumbed the light brown stubble on his square jaw for a long moment before he said, “Look, this is extremely personal…”
“I’m well aware of that. I’m also somewhat surprised by your behavior, Spence. What with you telling Mitch how deeply involved you’ve gotten with a certain unnamed East Coast lady.”
“I am involved.” He glanced at the love letter he’d been writing. “Very involved. It’s complicated.”
“I’m cool with complicated,” she said. “Complicated is fine by me. Just as long as it’s the complicated truth. Give it up, Spence. Is she anyone I know?”
Spence got up and held his hands out to the fire for warmth. Then he turned to face her, sighing. “Look, she’s Natalie Ochoa, okay?”
Des stared at him blankly. “Okay…”
Spence seemed stunned by her response. “You don’t live in the New York media market. Her name doesn’t actually mean anything to you, does it?”
“I’m afraid not,” Des said. Outside, she could hear the harsh scraping of Jase’s plow as it cleared the parking lot, his truck’s engine roaring. “Give me a boost, will you?”
“Natalie anchors the five-o’clock news on Channel Four. She’s rated number one in her time slot. She’s so popular that the network is grooming her to take over their morning show. Natalie’s the complete package, Des,” he exclaimed, a warm glow coming over his face, “she’s beautiful, smart, classy. Not to mention Latina, which hooks her up with the fastest-growing demographic base in the nation. She’s very, very hot in network news circles right now. She’s also very, very married.”
“Hence your reticence regarding her name?”
Spence nodded. “We’ve been seeing each other for six months or so. We have to be real careful or it’ll end up in the gossip columns, which could really hurt her image. She and her husband are definitely planning to separate. It’s over between them. But for now, it’s just a real mess. And it’s weighing heavily on my mind, what with my own career thing getting thrown into the mix. That’s what I was just writing her about. I’m supposed to relocate to the West Coast next month. Natalie’s future is here in New York. She has zero interest in moving back to L. A, where she started out. I don’t know what we’ll do. I just know… it can be a real mess sometimes. This whole love thing.”
“I’m with you there. Although I’d drop the word sometimes.”
Spence sat back down in the armchair, studying Des in guarded silence. “You don’t actually think I have anything to do with these deaths, do you?”
Des tried a new approach on for size. “Are you kidding me, man? You’re my prime suspect.”
Spence’s eyes widened in dismay. “I’m what?”
“Real deal, Spence,” she assured him, nodding her head slowly up and down. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to come clean with me about who was in here with you last night, and you’re not. Hell, man, Stevie Wonder could see that you’re not being straight with me about it. And if you’re not being straight about that, then I have to assume you’re not being straight about anything else. I’ve got three people dead, Spence, and you’re withholding valuable information. That means you win the grand prize. When the Major Crime Squad folks arrive you get to take the all-expenses-paid trip to Central District Headquarters in Meriden. Congratulations.”
Right away, Spence’s smooth composure gave way to panic. “You mean I’ll be arrested?”
“Brought in for formal questioning.”
“My God, will I need a lawyer?”
“That’s entirely your decision.”
“Does the… will the news media find out about this?”
“I imagine they’ll be all over it, what with Ada being so famous and Astrid’s such a landmark. It makes for quite a story.”
“Do you have any idea what this could do to my career?”
“That’s not my concern. The ball’s in your court, Spence. If you don’t want to talk, I can’t force you to. I have to respect your rights.” She got to her feet, not particularly fast, and said, “Come on, we may as well join the others until the chopper gets here.”
Spence stayed put, his hands clutching the arms of the chair. “Wait, there’s more I can tell you. I want to help, okay? I didn’t kill anyone, I swear. Why would I? I came up here to help Ada, not strangle her with a phone chord. And I hardly knew Norma and Les. I hardly know any of these people.”
“You’ve known Hannah for years,” Des said to him sternly.
“Yeah, okay, that’s true,” he admitted. “We did go through Panorama’s internship program together. But Hannah’s strictly a friend. Someone who I have no romantic feelings for whatsoever. Besides, she’s with Aaron, as you know perfectly well.”
“I do know that. Hannah’s gotten herself caught in a messy love triangle. It occurs to me that maybe she was trying to send Aaron a message last night by having herself a visit with some other man. Is that possible?”
“No, it’s not possible,” Spence insisted. “That didn’t happen.”
“Well, someone dropped in on you last night. Am I at least right about that much?”
Reluctantly, he nodded his head. “She has to be real careful because of Norma’s zero-tolerance rule. Any staff member caught fooling around with a guest is automatically gone. Norma was really obsessed about it, I guess because this place used to be known as a cathouse.”
Des sat back down, narrowing her eyes at him. “Just for the record, are we talking about Jory?”
“We are. And, believe me, I didn’t initiate it. It was all her.”
“Spence, I’m not doubting on your animal magnetism, but are you telling me that Jory jumped your bones right out of the blue?”
“Last night she did.” Spence shifted uneasily in his chair. “But we’re not exactly total strangers. Jory and I go back a few years. Twelve, actually. The summer when I turned sixteen I stayed here with my parents for a couple of weeks. Jory was working as a chambermaid in those days, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was an older woman, all of eighteen, and extra-spicy. The girl was hot. Major boobage, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I’m catching what you’re pitching.”
“Anyway, to my great surprise and delight, she was interested in me, too. We ended up having sex together on a blanket in the woods. She was my first, as a matter of fact.”
“And were you hers?”
“Not a chance. She could have-and did have-pretty much any guy she wanted. Quite honestly, I was surprised as hell to discover she was still working here when I arrived from New York on Tuesday. I figured she’d be married by now, have her own house, a couple of kids.”
“So you two haven’t stayed in touch?”
“Well, I did see her occasionally when I was at Yale,” he conceded. “A buddy of mine, Pete Willet, sailed out of the Dorset Yacht Club, and we’d come out here every so often to kick back. If Jory was free, she’d scrounge up a girlfriend for Pete and we’d party out on the Sound together. Jory works hard for a living. She likes to rock and roll when she gets the chance.”
“So when the college boy got him the itch, he’d give the chambermaid a call. Does that about cover it?”
“I wouldn’t portray it that way at all,” Spence said defensively. “Nobody got used. It was a mutual-consent kind of a deal. Good times. Good sex. Well above average, actually. Jory wasn’t looking for anything meaningful with me. She was just looking for humpage. She’s really a lot like a guy in that regard.”
Des smiled at him sweetly. “Is that right?”
“Not that I mean to plunge myself into the quicksand of sexual politics,” he added hurriedly. “I’m just trying to give you my sense of things.”
“How about giving me your sense of last night, Spence?”
“I couldn’t get to sleep,” he recalled, letting his breath out slowly. “I was freezing cold, and missing Natalie like crazy, when out of nowhere I hear footsteps and Jory’s sliding right into bed next to me, peeling off her clothes, reaching for me. And I’m like, ‘Jory, what the hell are you doing?’ And she’s like, ‘Just for old times’ sake, okay? I’m so lonesome and blue.’ Des, I was totally up-front with her. I told her I’m seriously into somebody. And she said, ‘That’s okay, so am I.’”
“Who is she seeing?”
“She didn’t say.”
“You weren’t curious?”
“At that particular moment, I couldn’t have cared less-not that I’m trying to be offensive.”
“You’re doing fine, Spence. Well above average, actually. How long did she stay with you?”
“A couple of hours.”
“And you say this was all her idea?”
“I swear it was. I was swamped with work from the moment I got here. I barely had a chance to say two words to her. I asked her how she’d been, but that’s all. I didn’t hit on her. And I sure didn’t invite her up to my room. I’m involved with Natalie, remember?”
“Right, you’re involved with Natalie,” Des said back to him. “Did Jory tell you anything at all about this man who she’s involved with? What he does for a living? How they met?”
Spence shook his head. “Mostly, she talked about Jase.”
“What about Jase?”
“How dependent he is on her. How she feels responsible for him, and frets over him day and night. She keeps hoping he’ll meet a girl and settle down on his own. Lately, she’s been trying to fix him up with the weekend chambermaids and waitresses. But the guy hasn’t so much as gotten out of the batter’s box, let alone to first base. I guess he’s kind of shy around the ladies. Jory asked me if I’d give him some pointers while I’m here, man-to-man. She’s getting kind of anxious, I guess, because if he doesn’t break away from her soon, chances are he never will.”
“Does Jase know about you and Jory?”
“I think he must. He’s always glowering at me. And he was really busting my chops this morning when we were out working in the driveway. My sense of things is that he sees me as some hotshot who’s been taking advantage of his sister. Which, as I said before, is not true. Jory is just as responsible as I am. More so, last night.”
“You said she left you after a couple of hours.”
“Yes.”
“By way of the trapdoor again?”
“She seemed pretty familiar with the drill, to tell you the truth. I’m guessing she’s dropped in on plenty of guys over the years.”
“I see,” Des said, figuring that it was most likely she whom Mitch and Carly had heard up there in the night, not Norma. “What did you do after Jory left?”
“Well, I didn’t fall asleep, I can tell you that. I felt so incredibly guilty. I still do, because I’m in love with Natalie. Jory and me, that shouldn’t have happened. But it did. And I let it. And I liked it. And I…” Spence hesitated, his jaw muscles tightening. “I kept thinking, hey, it’s not like Natalie isn’t climbing into bed every night with her husband, Joel, right? And you have to figure they’re still partaking of the humpage sometimes, don’t you? It would be dopey to think otherwise, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Des responded, noticing that Spence was digging the fingernails of his right hand so deep into the palm of his left that he was about ready to draw blood. The smooth young studio executive did not have it so totally together after all. When it came to his love life, he was a tortured mess of emotions. Was he in control of these emotions, or were they running the show? She wondered. “After Jory left, did you hear anyone coming or going out in the hall?”
“I didn’t hear anybody.”
“And where were you this morning when Ada was attacked?”
“Right here,” he replied, stabbing the arm of the chair with an index finger for emphasis. “I was talking to Natalie on my cell phone when I heard Hannah scream. Natalie could hear her over the phone. She asked me what was happening. Go ahead and call Natalie if you don’t believe me. She’ll back me up. I was on the phone with her at the time of Ada’s death.”
“Okay, that’s not actually what I’m hearing from you, Spence.”
He frowned. “What are you hearing?”
“That you were on the phone when Hannah found Ada’s body. Technically, you could have strangled her before you slipped in here to call Natalie.”
“Well, yeah, okay,” he allowed readily enough. “I can see your point. But why would I do it? What possible reason would I have for killing Ada Geiger? Or the others? I’ve just landed a huge promotion. I’m in love with a beautiful woman. Why would I want to get dragged into any of this?”
Des didn’t answer Spence, for the simple reason that she didn’t have an answer. Not unless, somehow, he’d gotten himself dragged into it against his will. Or unless every single word he’d just told her was a carefully scripted fabrication. Which was certainly possible. But if Spence was being reasonably straight with her, then he was right. He had so many positive things going on right now. Why get dragged into this? For Jory, whom he could apparently sleep with anytime he wanted to? Where was his motive? What was in it for him? For that matter, what was in it for Jory? True, she stood to gain fifty thousand dollars from Norma’s death. Not exactly chump change, but was it worth murdering the woman for?
No, not a whole lot of sense here. Not yet.
Spence was looking at her searchingly, trying to follow where her mind was going. “Why would I do it?” he repeated.
“I wish I had some answers for you, Spence,” she replied quietly. “But I don’t. All I have is more questions.”
It seemed eerily quiet down in the taproom, considering how many people were crowded in there around the kerosene space heaters. So quiet that Des could hear the tick-tock of the antique wall clock behind the bar, punctuated by the occasional scrape of Jase’s plow outside on the pavement of the parking lot. It took Des a moment to realize what was missing.
There was no background music.
Teddy wasn’t playing the piano in the Sunset Lounge. He was seated at the bar, sipping a Scotch and looking very sad. Aaron sat on the stool next to him, chewing halfheartedly on a sandwich. Isabella was sprawled on the bar before them with a saucer of milk, offering up her soft white belly for a rub. The big cat was getting no takers. No one was paying any attention to her. No one was saying anything. They were all just sitting there, trying not to go insane with fear.
The three women, Carly, Hannah and Jory, all looked up at Des apprehensively as she and Spence came in the door. Des felt as if she’d just barged into a hospital waiting room with word of whether the patient’s cancer had spread or not.
“Jory, I’m going to need to ask you a few more questions,” she said, flashing her a reassuring smile. “I have to clarify some things.”
“Anything I can do to help, Des.” Jory glanced uncertainly over at Spence, whose own eyes were glued to the carpet. “When would you like to do it?”
“Right now, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing.” Jory collected the empty sandwich platter and started for the door with it. “Are you hungry, Spence?”
“I sure am,” he replied, moving over toward the bar.
“I can make some more sandwiches, if you’d like.” Jory’s eyes lingered on him.
“That would be great,” he said, stubbornly refusing to look at her.
Jory stuck out her bulldog chin and headed for the kitchen. Des followed her, noticing that Jory was one of those women who had two walks-wiggly for when a man was walking behind her, plain vanilla for when a woman was.
There was a loaf of sliced whole wheat bread on the kitchen table, which was crowded with sandwich fixings-a big hunk of baked ham, a wedge of Swiss cheese, sliced radishes, tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, jars of mayonnaise and mustard. Jory went right to work on the ham with a carving knife, shaving off thin slice after thin slice, her movements practiced and skilled.
“It’s funny, I was so afraid to open the refrigerator this morning,” she chattered at Des as she worked. “I didn’t want all of the food in there to spoil. But it finally dawned on me that it’s the same temperature out here as it is in there-so what’s the difference, right?”
The girl was definitely running at the mouth, Des observed, taking a seat at the table. Major ill at ease.
“So how can I help you, Des?” she rattled on, slathering four slices of bread with mayo and mustard. “What else can I tell you?”
“Why you lied to me,” Des replied quietly.
“When did I do that?”
“You told me you never left your cottage last night. We both know that’s not true. You were in Spence’s room.”
Jory blushed, her round cheeks mottling. “I suppose he bragged to you all about his great big conquest.”
“Actually, he was very reluctant to give it up. I had to squeeze it out of him.”
“How did you manage that?”
“By threatening to take him in for questioning.”
“That would do it, all right.” Jory finished making two ham and cheese sandwiches, passed one over to Des and immediately started building two more. She offered her nothing in the way of information. Not a word.
“Jory, I’ve got three deaths to account for,” Des said, attacking her sandwich. She’d eaten nothing all day, and was famished. “I could care less about you and Spence keeping each other warm in his room last night. But I need the real deal from you. Why you lied to me. What else you didn’t tell me. And I need it right now.”
“Okay, sure. Whatever.” Jory flopped down in the chair directly across from Des, swiping at a strand of hair that had come loose from her topknot. “I was afraid you’d tell Les. That’s why I was a bit less than straight with you about it before. If Les had found out I was in Spence’s room last night, he would have fired me instantly. Me and Jase both.”
“Because of Norma’s zero-tolerance rule?”
Jory shook her head. “No.”
“Well, then why?”
“Because the old creep was hot for me, that’s why,” Jory replied wearily. “You should have seen the way that man would stare at me-day after day, night after night. He’d just keep staring at my assorted body parts with those filthy eyes of his. He made me feel crawly all over. Because I’d never go with someone that old, for God’s sake. Especially him. He was just such a lech. I’ll bet he told you what a good husband he was. How much he loved Norma. Well, he wasn’t and he didn’t. He was obsessed with me from the moment he moved in here. He’d get insanely jealous if I showed even the slightest interest in a man-our produce supplier, the Fed Ex guy, anyone. Just last month he fired Franz, one of our chefs, because we went to a movie together on my night off. One lousy movie, Des.”
“Why didn’t you quit?”
“And go where? This is the only job I’ve ever held.”
“They do have such a thing as sexual harassment laws.”
“My word against his,” Jory said dismissively. “Who do you think they’re going to believe, the president of the Chamber of Commerce or the pair of tits who mops the floors?”
“Did Norma know about this?”
“Of course she did. He was so obvious it was painful. She also knew that I did everything I could to discourage him.”
“Did she ever confront him about it?”
“She promised me she’d talk to him, but she never did. She was too afraid of antagonizing him. Norma had a lot of insecurities, you see. To do with her weight and all. She couldn’t help me, wouldn’t help me. So I put up with it. I could deal. I’ve had horny guests hitting on me ever since I grew breasts. It’s an occupational hazard if you’re in the hospitality business. I just had to avoid being caught alone in a room with him.”
“When the power went out last night, you were alone in the cellar with him.”
“I know.” Jory’s plump lower lip began to quiver. She bit down hard on it.
“Jory, did something happen down there?”
“Not physically, no. He just… he told me I was in his dreams every night. And he got kind of specific about those dreams. I’d really rather not go into the details, if you don’t mind. Every time I start to think about them I feel like throwing up.”
“Mitch told me that Jase seemed worried when he found out Les was down in the cellar with you.”
“He knew how Les felt about me,” Jory said, nodding. “But I always told him it was okay, I could take care of myself. The old creep was basically harmless.”
“Firing a chef for taking you to the movies is not what I’d call harmless,” Des said as she devoured her sandwich, which was delicious.
“I’m with you there, Des. All I meant was that he’d never actually try to rape me or whatever. He just wanted to imagine things about me and then… say them out loud to me. That’s how he got off.”
“Did you know that Les was seeing another woman?”
“Martha Burgess, sure. He told me all about her.”
“What did he say?”
“That the affair was all my fault. That the only reason he was having sex with Martha was because he was so aroused by me.”
“Last night you told Spence that you’re involved with someone yourself.”
Jory lowered her eyes, gazing down at the sandwiches she’d just made. “I did, that’s true.”
“May I ask who he is?”
“There’s no one,” she replied faintly. “I’m not actually seeing anyone.”
“You lied to Spence?”
“I did,” she admitted.
“Why would you do that?”
Jory shot a glance at the dining room doorway, then leaned across the table toward her. “Des, could we keep this between us?”
“If I can, I will.”
“I didn’t want to scare him off, okay?”
“Not okay. I’m still not following you.”
“God, this is so embarrassing to say out loud,” Jory confessed, clearing her throat. “The awful truth is that I’ve been hopelessly in love with Spence Sibley ever since high school. He was my very first, Des. When it happened, I led him to believe I was a woman of vast experience when it came to sex. I wasn’t. I’ve always tried to be the woman he wants me to be. No clinging, no promises. Nothing but good, frisky fun. For years I’ve been telling Spence that I’m not looking for anything serious, when the truth is that all I think about day and night is marrying him and having his babies. For me, there’s never been anybody but Spence. Someday, he’ll realize he feels the same way about me. I believe that in my bones. But I also believe that if I pursue him too hard, I’ll scare him off. So I’ve been careful to hide my true feelings. And patient. I’ve been so patient.”
“And he has no idea how you really feel?”
“He’s a man. They never know how we really feel, do they?”
“Girl, you’ll get no argument from me there.” Des flashed a smile at her. “Only, Spence claims he’s mad about someone in New York.”
“Who, Natalie? She’s nothing. A brief infatuation. That’ll blow over. Believe me, there’s only one woman in this world for Spence, and you’re looking at her. When he called me to say that the studio was sending him up here for Ada’s tribute, I was ecstatic. We hadn’t seen each other since last summer and I’ve really, really missed him.”
“Last summer?”
“Well, yeah. Supposedly, he was coming out to Dorset to sail. But he ended up staying here with me for the whole week instead. Des, that was the most romantic, perfect week of my entire life.” Jory studied Des carefully from across the table. “He didn’t mention it to you?”
“No, he didn’t,” Des replied, wondering why Spence had purposely downplayed how deep into Jory he was. Not that she’d expected him to tell her the whole truth. No one ever actually did that. Still, this was an awfully choice morsel to omit from the telling.
“He stayed here with me for a whole week.” Jory sounded tremendously hurt now. It bothered her that Spence had neglected to mention their idyllic interlude. “Every morning we woke up in each other’s arms.”
“How did you manage to pull that off? Without Norma getting hip to it, I mean.”
“He slept out in the cottage with me. Norma hadn’t a clue. No one did.”
As Des thought this through for a moment, she realized that there could actually be no doubt in Spence’s mind that Jase knew all about him and Jory. Jase did share that cottage with Jory, after all. Again, Spence had been less than straight with her. Why? “How does Jase feel about him?”
“Who, Spence? He’s fine about him. He always worries, naturally.”
“About what?”
“Losing me. Not that he has any earthly reason to worry. I’ve told him a million times that no matter who I marry he’ll always have a home with us. Jase knows that. It’s written in stone. Still, he worries. Do you have a brother or sister?”
“I’m an only child.”
“Well, then it’s hard to explain. But there’s a bond between Jase and me, a blood thing. And that bond can never, ever be broken.” Jory stirred herself and transferred the sandwiches from the cutting board to the platter. “I’d better deliver these. Spence seemed awfully hungry.”
“Sure. I just have one more question.”
“Absolutely. What is it?”
Des polished off the last of her own sandwich, leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath before she said, “Who slipped the digoxin into Norma’s cocoa-was it Les or was it you?”