Dangerous Secrets (16 page)

‶
Well, I don′t care if
it′s me.″

‶
Then go hang out while I change
clothes.″

He went off to his room, and I headed
downstairs.

The barroom was deserted, but I heard noises in
the kitchen. I poked my head around the corner and saw Zack and Susan preparing
hors d’oeuvres. Apparently Susan had decided to save money by recruiting Zack
to help serve—not Nadine or Adam—the hallmark of a shrewd businesswoman.

Restless, I finally settled on the piano bench,
the perfect spot to take in all the downstairs entrances. Susan came through
the doorway with a tray full of hors d’oeuvres, and gave a start at seeing me.

‶
Looks like I′m a little
early,″ I said.

‶
Don′t worry, we′re
ready,″ she said with forced cheerfulness. She set the tray on the bar
and headed back for the kitchen. How had she explained this little gathering to
the other guests?

I clenched my fists, more nervous than
I′d anticipated. Breaking and entering isn′t something I do every
day, and I wasn′t looking forward to it.

Voices preceded the footfalls that echoed from
the stairwell.
‶
Hello,
Jeffrey,″ Michele called, her husband Jean behind her.

‶
Hi.″

‶
Do you play?″ she asked,
glancing at the piano behind me.

I stood.
‶
No.″

She looked around for signs of the other
guests.
‶
It
seems we are early.″

‶
I′m sure the other guests
will be along soon. Can I get you a drink?″ I asked, automatically
heading for the well-stocked bar. Had Susan bought the liquor just for the
party or did she have a stash she bought out for special occasions? No matter,
Richard was paying dearly for it.

‶
Oui. White wine. Jean?″

‶
Beer.″

The wine was perfectly chilled and I poured a
glass for her, then cracked the cap off a bottle of Labatts. I felt like I was
back at work at the Whole Nine Yards sports bar in Buffalo. Michele smiled
shyly at me in thanks, then hand-in-hand she and Jean headed for the game room.

More footfalls sounded, and my brother came
down the stairs. Dressed in a white polo shirt and a navy sports jacket and
slacks, Richard looked every inch the well-to-do doctor on vacation.
‶
Can
I get you a drink, Dr. Alpert?″

‶
Scotch—on the rocks,
please.″

Before I could finish pouring, Zack appeared
with two more trays of food before heading back to the kitchen. Richard′s
assessment of Susan′s hostess abilities had been right on the money. Trays
of canapés, shrimp piled on cracked ice, and bowls filled with mixed nuts and
M&M candies were scattered around the room.

‶
Impressive,″ I said.

‶
I told you she′d throw
one hell of a party.”

Susan brought out yet another tray from the
kitchen, this one filled with an assortment of cheeses and crackers.
‶
I′m
very pleased,″ Richard told her.

‶
It′s amazing what you can
do with puff pastry, bacon, and cream cheese,″ she admitted.
‶
If
you′ll excuse me, I think we need more cocktail napkins.″

Laura and Ted were the next to arrive. Dressed
to the nines in a shimmering black mini dress, her stiletto heels showed off
her shapely legs. Ted ordered for them both: a beer and a dry martini—I
could′ve predicted it. They claimed the overstuffed loveseat in the far
corner of the game room, away from the other guests, snuggling like lovebirds.

‶
That′s half the
guests,″ I said to Richard.
‶
Did you ask the
Andolinas?″

‶
Yes. They′ll be down in a
few minutes. You know how women are.″

Suddenly mellow jazz came from unseen speakers.
‶
Subtle,″
Richard commented, sipping his scotch. Seconds later, Zack rounded the corner
from the kitchen.
‶
Would you care for a drink?″ Richard offered.

‶
Don′t mind if I do. Jack
Daniels—neat.″

I poured the drink, handing it to him.

‶
Are you the official
bartender?″ Richard asked me.

‶
I guess it comes
naturally,″ I said, absently wiping the bar top.

‶
I don′t think it′s
necessary. Would you take over?″ he asked Zack.

‶
No problem, Doctor,″ he
said and moved to take my place.

I was already getting antsy, but had to hang
around for a while longer to see if the Andolinas and the bimbo, Alyssa, and
her boyfriend Doug would make an appearance. Maggie′s assessment of Mrs.
Andolina seemed on the money. I suspected if she saw me nosing around the guest
rooms, she would tattle to Susan—or maybe even Sgt. Beach.

‶
Would you like
something?″ Zack asked, interrupting my reverie.

I could′ve done with a large bourbon,
neat.
‶
No,
thanks, I′m sticking to soft drinks.″

‶
Suit yourself,″ he said,
and helped himself to one of the shrimp.

I heard more footfalls on the stairs: the bimbo
and Doug. They headed straight for the bar as well. Alyssa wore dark slacks and
a peach colored, low-neck sweater. A push-up bra had enhanced what nature had
given her. In contrast, Doug, in black Dockers and a leather vest, looked ready
for a barroom brawl. And I thought
I′d
looked under-dressed.

Where the hell were the Andolinas?

I continued to edge away from the group,
anxious for the latecomers to arrive. Parties are not my forte, but Richard
seemed at ease with the casual chitchat. He′d done a lot of socializing
in his former job, schmoozing government types for grant money. I wondered if
any of the women at the party would confide a sexual fantasy to him. He had to
be kidding about that.

I glanced at my watch, conscious of the fact
that time was slipping away. Then I heard Kay Andolina′s voice. I watched
Richard home in on her and her husband. Once he had them engaged, I slipped out
the back way, circled the house and came in through the front door.

I didn′t know how much time I′d
have, so I decided to concentrate on the Dawson′s apartment and
Laura′s and Ted′s room. If I was going to find anything
incriminating, I felt it would be there. If not, Richard would be out of pocket
for nothing.

Chapter 18

I slipped out of my shoes to avoid making
noise. After hiding them under the loveseat, I donned Richard′s latex
gloves and used Maggie′s trusty hairpin to open the door to the
Dawson′s residence.

The apartment consisted of the combination
kitchen-living room, the cubbyhole office that opened into the inn′s
lobby, a bedroom, a bathroom and a couple of closets. Everything looked neat,
tidy, and innocent. Since I didn′t know what I was looking for, that made
the job of finding anything meaningful that much more difficult.

I zeroed in on the bedroom. Though painted
pink—with cutesy curtains and a matching spread—like the rest of the place, it
seemed rather sterile. The queen-sized bed, with no headboard, was pushed
against the south wall. I tested it. Much more comfortable than the slab Susan
had given Maggie and me. I ran my gloved hand over the spread. Nothing. Of
course not, I wasn′t touching it. I peeled off the left glove and tried
again, instantly picking up residual anger, like what I′d experienced
when I′d met Zack that first evening. The passion between them was long
gone. Every night they slept back to back, nothing more than business partners.

I stood, straightened the spread, and tried to
shrug off the creepy feeling of voyeurism that clung to me. I didn′t like
doing this, but I liked it even less that someone had tried to kill Maggie and
me some twenty-four hours before.

Next, came the dresser. The glove
wouldn′t go back on my sweating hand. Great. I′d have to be careful
not to leave fingerprints. I balled it and shoved it into my left-hand pocket.

The top drawer held Susan′s underwear;
the second drawer, sweaters and blouses. Everything was neatly stacked and I
made sure it looked undisturbed when I′d finished my one-handed groping.
No ribbon-bound stack of love letters, nothing incriminating. I tried the other
dresser and found it in the same neat condition, except it was full of
Zack′s clothes.

The closet was jammed. Boxes crowded the top
shelf, labeled in what was probably Susan′s neat handwriting. I grabbed
one marked
‶
receipts″
and found receipts and tax records. Nothing of interest. My foot nudged a pair
of men′s shoes and a prescription bottle rolled out of one. As expected,
it belonged to Zack. The doctor′s name was Haskins, and the prescription
had been filled in Burlington just a week before. Two refills remained. I
memorized the drug name to ask Richard about later, then replaced the bottle in
the shoe.

Susan′s jewelry box contained mostly
cheap costume stuff, along with several gold and silver chains, and a couple of
old broaches. I closed the lid and ducked into the bathroom.

A small cupboard held extra rolls of toilet
paper and neatly folded towels. Two plush terry robes hung from hooks on the
back of the door. One white, the other pink. I touched the pink one first.
Nothing. I grasped the lapel of the white one and got a vague impression of the
hot tub outside, the steam rising on a cool, crisp day. It didn′t make
sense, but I also knew it sometimes took time for the full impact of these
flashes to become meaningful.

The kitchen was sparsely decorated with more of
Susan′s surplus. One of the cabinets housed an extensive liquor
collection, heavily favoring bourbon. I closed my eyes and held one of the
opened bottles: Zack. They had arguments about that, too. Definitely a
dysfunctional couple.

All in all, I′d garnered very little
information. But then I really shouldn′t have expected more. Susan was
pretty much a closed book. And since I got no insight from touching her, it
wasn′t surprising her possessions held nothing for me either.

Opening the door a crack, I listened for a
moment before venturing back into the inn′s lobby. No one around. So far
so good. The murmur of voices from the party downstairs was audible as I closed
the door behind me and crept across the room.

With a few skillful twists of the hairpin, I
gained access to Laura′s and Ted′s room. Like the rest of the inn,
it was tastefully decorated with oak and wicker furniture, lots of ruffled
pillows and lacy do-dads. Unlike the others I′d seen, this room had a
king-sized waterbed. Two suitcases were tucked in the closet, along with two
mismatched garment bags. The bathroom′s vanity was decked out with a ton
of cosmetics and a man′s travel kit.

Laura′s purse was tucked into one of the
dresser drawers. I thumbed through her wallet, fat with twenty-dollar bills.
Behind the wad of credit cards were several pictures of children—nieces and
nephews perhaps. Replacing the photos, I made sure the drawer looked
undisturbed.

Ted′s belongings were less interesting. A
bottle of Polo after-shave, clean underwear—nothing of sentimental value.

An old wind-up travel alarm clock, its face
scratched from years of use, sat on the left side of the bed. Grasping it, I
got a shadowy impression of a woman ... it had been a gift. From someone Laura
admired? Could that woman have been Eileen? I wasn′t sure. Using my shirttail,
I wiped off my fingerprints and placed it back on the night table, hoping
I′d put it in the same position as I′d found it.

Since the bed was where I′d gotten the
strongest impressions in the Dawson′s room, I laid back, closed my eyes.
Conflicting emotions seeped into me: guilt, shame, and lascivious pleasure. I
couldn′t tell if the feelings were from the room′s current
occupants or a conglomeration of emotions from years worth of lovemaking by
past guests.

The overlapping sensations left me vaguely
nauseated. I crawled off, realizing my head ached, too. It took a few moments
to catch my breath. As I straightened the spread so the bed looked undisturbed,
I noticed a leather attaché by the side of a wicker chair. It was locked and,
unlike the flimsy locks on the room doors, my trusty hairpin wasn′t going
to open it. I rested my hand on the top, closed my eyes and waited. Nothing.
For all I knew, it could be filled with magazines or old utility receipts.
Reluctantly, I replaced it and took a last look around. For all the money the
party was costing Richard, I′d gotten virtually nothing useful. I glanced
at my watch: the entire ordeal had taken less than fifteen minutes.

I turned for the door and tripped over a throw
rug at the side of the bed. The nightstand broke my fall, but the clock hit the
floor with a crash.

Adrenaline shot through me. I grabbed the
clock, dropped it on the table and opened the door.

What if I′d broken it?

I turned back, picked it up, and listened.

My pulse slammed in my ears. Endless seconds passed
before I heard it ticking. Hands shaking, I put it down and got the hell out of
there.

I′d ripped off the remaining glove and
was stuffing my feet back into my shoes when I heard footsteps coming up the
stairs. I grabbed the first book I saw, planted myself in a chair, and tried
not to look like I was sweating.

Susan rounded the stairwell, looked at me
suspiciously.
‶
Jeff—why
aren′t you downstairs?″

I looked up, as though I′d been
engrossed.
‶
I′m
not really in a partying mood. Not while Maggie′s in the hospital.″

‶
Oh. Of course.″ Was that
an actual expression of compassion that momentarily crossed her features?
‶
I′m
sure Maggie wouldn′t mind,″ she said.

‶
I′ll go back down in a
couple of minutes.″ She nodded and continued to her office.

I looked at the book in my hands—an old guest
book—and flipped through the pages. It began in December of the previous year.
Among the names listed during New Year′s weekend was Eileen Marshall.
She′d mentioned visiting the inn several times, and I wondered if
she′d signed it every time. Sure enough, I found her signature for the
4th of July holiday and when she′d checked in some six days previously. I
skimmed through the book again. There should have been one more entry.
She′d said something about enjoying the hot tub in the spring. I
couldn′t find it. Something about that didn′t feel right.

I shut the book and replaced it on the coffee
table, disappointed my foray into crime had netted me so little information.
But all the players were still assembled downstairs. Questioning them was now
my best—perhaps my only—shot at finding the truth.

The food had been decimated by the time I eased
back into the barroom, trying to look as though I′d never left. Filling a
glass with ice, I poured myself a Coke, needing the caffeine fix for my
pounding head—wishing I could have a double Jack Daniels instead.

Meanwhile, the JD drinker, Zack, was playing
host, albeit with a kind of forced cheerfulness. Though conversing with the
Canadians, his gaze kept drifting toward Laura, his expression not entirely
friendly.

Doug sauntered up, interrupting my musings. He
set an empty beer bottle on the bar.
‶
Got any more?″

‶
Sure.″ I handed him
another bottle, realizing his appearance gave me a conversation opener.
‶
The
other night you scored some weed,″ I said, lowering my voice.
‶
Local
connection?″

His grip tightened on the bottle.
‶
Why′d
you ask?″

I proffered my glass of soda.
‶
I
can′t drink and my lady′s in the hospital. I′m just looking
to ease the pain. Where I can get some?″

His smile was sly.
‶
The guy in the
kitchen. Good stuff; grows it himself.″

My stomach tensed: Adam. I faked a smile and
clapped him on the shoulder.
‶
Thanks, man.″

‶
No problem.″ He headed
back toward the game room.

In an effort to disguise my agitation, I
wandered to the eats table. Not that I was the least bit hungry after our
Chinese feast, but studying the leftovers gave me something to do, and an
opportunity to eavesdrop.

Richard was talking with Fred Andolina when
Alyssa moved to stand beside him. I popped a shrimp into my mouth, hoping I
didn′t look as jittery as I felt. Alyssa stared intently at my brother
and, unnerved, Fred finally turned away.

‶
Dr. Alpert, I have a problem
and I was wondering if you could help me.″

Richard turned his full attention to her.
‶
Of
course.″

She bit her lip, looking concerned.
‶
I
have this recurring pain—in my chest.″

‶
Oh?″

‶
Yes, it′s—″ she
took his hand, placing it on her left breast,
‶
right here.″

Richard′s gaze wandered over to me with a
look that said
I told you so
.

Doug erupted from the corner.
‶
Hey!″

Richard pulled his hand away.

Doug shoved his way through the crowd, looking
ready to kill.
‶
What
the hell are you doing to my girl?″

Alyssa looked embarrassed, although not for
herself or Richard.
‶
Oh, Doug, grow up. He′s a doctor.”

‶
Oh, yeah? Well, I′ll bet
he isn′t even licensed to practice medicine in Vermont.”

Maybe Doug had more upstairs than I′d
given him credit for.

Richard forced a smile.
‶
I suggest you see
your own doctor to talk about this problem. I′m sure he or she will be
able to advise you better than me. If you′ll excuse me.″ He crossed
the room, heading for the bar, where he filled his glass with ice and poured
himself a generous scotch.

I ambled over to join him and nodded toward the
bimbo, who continued to argue with her boyfriend.

Richard eyed me, still shaken by the encounter,
and took a swallow of his drink.
‶
I told you, this kind of thing
happens to me all the time at cocktail parties.″

‶
What does Brenda think about
that?″

He took another long pull before answering.
‶
How
do you think I met her?″

Incredulous, I could only blink.

Finally a smile cracked his serious expression.
‶
I′m
kidding.″

‶
Don′t let Brenda or
Maggie hear you kid like that.″

‶
I suspect Alyssa′s
boyfriend hasn′t been paying enough attention to her and she chose me as
a way to get it.″ The two were still quarreling, and I′d bet that
after leaving the party they′d make up—in bed.

Someone tapped my shoulder: Ted Palmer.
‶
Hey,
man. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your girlfriend getting
hurt.″ His expression was earnest. Of all the guests, he′d been the
only one to mention Maggie′s near-fatal accident. Somehow, he
didn′t seem the type.

‶
Thanks.″

‶
Is she going to be all
right?″

‶
I think so.″

‶
No matter what Sgt. Beach
thinks, I wanted you to know I wasn′t responsible.″

A heaviness began to creep across my chest.
‶
I
beg your pardon.″

‶
I mean, I made a mistake—but
that was a long time ago. I don′t make a habit of hot-wiring cars and
causing accidents.″

I struggled to keep my voice level.
‶
You
got caught joyriding?″

‶
Maybe I was a wild kid, but
that was over ten years ago. I′ve never been in trouble with the law since.
I swear, not even a parking ticket.″

I made a mental note to ask Beach about that
little incident, but put on my best poker face.
‶
Thanks for leveling with
me.″ I took a sip of Coke, knowing it wouldn′t help steady my
jagged nerves. I cleared my throat: time to go into my act.
‶
How
did you and Laura meet?″

He seemed glad to change the subject.
‶
We
were guests at a wedding reception at the local country club. I′m the
tennis pro. I was a friend of the groom, Laura was a friend of the
bride′s mother. We were seated at the same table and things just clicked
between us.″ He glanced at Laura across the room.
‶
Something weird is
going on with her since we came here, though. She′s not the same person.
One of the things that drew me to her was her confidence. This Eileen
person′s death really shook her.″