Olive and Let Die (14 page)

FOURTEEN

The young woman's mouth hung open for a moment, then she shut it. Had she been listening to our conversation?

“Um,” she said. “I got lost looking for the kitchen. Melanie wants a mineral water.”

Liza took her by the arm and marched her through the door and into the sitting room. “You definitely took a wrong turn. Next time just have Melanie pick up the phone and dial the concierge.”

“Oh, well, she told me to go. So I went. That's what I do.”

“This way, then.” Liza turned to me. “I'll be right back, Georgie. Maybe you could go into my office and make sure the door is locked. I can't imagine why it wasn't.” She took Caitlyn and left.

I went through the interior door into Liza's office. A French provincial–style desk with lovely turned legs was situated in the middle of the room, with a desk chair upholstered in a
cheerful yellow and blue floral pattern behind it. White china pots of various lush and healthy-looking green plants lined the sills of the huge windows along one wall. It was dark out now, but I could make out the funky outline of a bright full moon through the original wavy glass.

I crossed the room to the door to the hallway. The door was closed, and I turned the thumb lock, giving the handle a jiggle for good measure. I wondered again what Caitlyn had been doing in here. While I could understand getting lost in this place—there were over a hundred rooms—she'd been here for a few days and she must know where the kitchen was by now. There weren't that many explanations. She really was directionally challenged. She'd been spying on Liza and me, probably at Melanie's behest. Or she'd been snooping in Liza's office.

But what would she be looking for? The girl certainly got around. First she was at Gladys's house hanging around Channing. Could it be as simple as her having a crush on the town handyman? It made sense. The guy was definitely hot, and he seemed nice. She could have been in Liza's office to see if she could find out any information about him to help her follow him. I liked this idea—just a girl harmlessly stalking a cute guy.

But another idea popped into my head, something quite a bit less benign. Liza had a lot of famous clientele. She almost certainly kept files on her guests, and the files must contain personal information. If Melanie really was having financial problems—and the fact that Liza had been paid didn't rule that out—she could have sent the devoted and efficient Caitlyn to see if she could find something useful. Again, I was back to blackmail.

I scanned the room. Everything looked neat and tidy to me. No errant papers or files on the desk or any other flat surface. I walked around the desk itself and frowned. A drawer was pulled slightly out. I shoved it back into place with my leg then looked at the floor. A glossy dark hair lay across the gleaming floorboards. Hair the same color and length as Caitlyn's.

What had she been looking for? And had she found it? I was tempted to snoop in the drawer myself, but my conscience wouldn't allow it.

I went back into the sitting room to wait for Liza. She came back shortly, with Caitlyn in tow. The young woman was holding a bottle of Evian. Little droplets of water had condensed on the outside of the glass bottle. She transferred the bottle to her other hand and wiped her damp hand on her skinny jeans. “Caitlyn, I need to talk to Melanie. Can you let her know I'm coming upstairs?”

She started, just a little. “Uh, sorry. Melanie just took a sleeping pill—she wanted some extra water to wash it down. I've been gone so long she may already be asleep.”

Stop snooping in other people's offices and you'll be on time.
I searched her face. Unfortunately, I believed her about the sleeping pill. I'd seen the prescription bottle when I got the glimpse of the pepper spray she carried in her purse.

“Fine, then. I'll see you both in the morning.”

Her lip curled up a little. “Yeah. She's sending me to the closest mall to get a new outfit for Doreen to be buried in. It kind of creeps me out. But I do what she tells me.”

I had no doubt she did what Melanie instructed. But did this intelligent young woman have an agenda of her own?
She probably had access to all of Melanie's personal information—she'd have to in order to do her job. Was she leveraging that information?

“Yeah. I better go see if she's still awake. We'll be ready early, if I can get her out of bed.” She left the room. Liza and I went to the door and watched her walk up the stairs.

Liza turned to me. “I always lock the door to my office, and I know I did it tonight.”

“How did she manage it? I'm no expert but I didn't see any signs that the lock had been forced.”

“I don't know. There's only one key, and I keep it with me all the time. There's sensitive information in there about my clients. And it's a new, modern lock. I had them installed on both office doors.” Her forehead wrinkled. “That girl is up to something.”

I debated whether to tell Liza about Caitlyn and Channing, but decided against it. I hadn't seen anything other than the two of them talking, and Liza hadn't said they had an exclusive relationship. “You might want to check the drawer in your desk. It was open. And I agree. Caitlyn
is
up to something. Melanie too. Tomorrow, I'm going to get some answers.”

*   *   *

The next morning
dawned clear and bright. Liza had installed me in one of the smaller bedrooms, and I'd slept comfortably under the soft white Egyptian cotton sheets. I woke at six o'clock and went out onto the little balcony, wrapped in one of the blankets from the bed. I shivered and shrank back as I leaned into the cold stone of the castle to
watch a spectacular sunrise over the St. Lawrence. There was so much to do today. Doreen's calling hours were tonight, and the funeral and luncheon were tomorrow. Dolly was scheduled to come in and help me prep the luncheon. I'd decided on a simple menu: Greek salad, warm pitas, Greek meatballs called keftedes, lemony rice pilaf, and coffee and cookies for dessert. The two of us worked efficiently together and we'd get it done quickly.

I needed to call Spiro and make sure he'd gotten a lawyer for Inky. Hopefully MacNamara Senior could help him post bail. I hated to think of Inky in the county lockup, but there wasn't really anything for me to do. The authorities must have retrieved the box of plastic wrap from the kitchen of Spinky's and put two and two together, coming up with the sum of Inky. But the back door of the restaurant had been open all day, with workers coming in and out. Anyone could have found the key under the mat. Anyone could have taken the wrap and braided it into a rope. Or planted a half-empty box on the counter.

Which brought me back to square one. Who would want Doreen dead? I went inside, deposited the blanket back on the bed, dressed and went downstairs. I sat down in the breakfast room with a cup of Liza's fine coffee and a croissant, which I liberally smeared with butter and homemade strawberry jam. Eventually the Spa guests started to trickle in, nobody famous enough for me to recognize. I saw quite a few mangled faces covered in sutures and bandages. Liza did a good business with people coming here to hide out—er, recuperate—after plastic surgery.

All heads turned as Channing entered the room. He was
beautiful. Dark hair curling over his chiseled jaw, sharply cut sideburns just a little too long, skin bronzed, presumably from hours in the sun, and wearing a T-shirt and faded jeans that molded to the contours of his body like cake batter poured into a Bundt pan.

He grabbed a coffee and a plate piled high with Danish and looked around for a place to sit. Most of the tables were occupied, though I noticed a couple of middle-aged women scooting their chairs aside to make room for him. His eyes landed on me, and he gave me a questioning look. I smiled and indicated the chair. I felt like I'd just won the bonus round at Bingo—I'd get to admire him up close and maybe get some information about Caitlyn at the same time.

“Thanks,” he said, setting his breakfast on the table and sitting down with that easy grace I'd noticed before. He was a runner maybe, based on that lean build. The guy ought to be modeling underwear. “You're the one who brought Ms. Ashley and her assistant the other day, aren't you? What brings you back to the island?” He took a huge bite of cheese Danish and I watched him chew, fascinated by the muscle working in his jaw.

I forced myself to look at his face. Not necessarily a less arresting thing to watch than the jaw muscle. “Uh, yes. I'm Georgie. Liza and I are good friends.”

His face took on a dreamy quality. “Liza's great, isn't she?”

“She is.” My estimation of Channing grew. It was clear he genuinely cared about Liza, which was charming.

“The age difference doesn't matter to me. I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

Liza and I were about the same age. Channing appeared
to be about thirty. Ten years didn't seem like that much to me either. This guy was young and beautiful, but when I thought about what I wanted, I only saw Jack.

“Channing, right? You have the handyman business?”

He nodded, finishing up the Danish in one bite and picking up another with strawberry filling. “Yeah. I close and open pools, do some home repairs and painting, carpentry, and I winterize and caretake several cottages while the owners are away for the season. I get to do something different every day, and I'm my own boss.”

I was about to ask him about Caitlyn, but before I could do so, Melanie parked herself at the table. She gave Channing the once-over, as though he were a donut dusted in powdered sugar. She turned to me. “I'll have what you're having.”

Hysterical. “We were just having a nice, honest conversation. Something not everyone knows how to do,
Melanie
.”

She shot me a frosty look and waved at Caitlyn, who appeared with two cups of coffee and a bowl of fruit salad. No carbs in sight.

Caitlyn sat down. “Good morning,” she said to me, then Channing. Did I notice a slight hesitation when she addressed Channing? Her eyes were focused not on his face, but somewhere in the middle of his chest. Not that I could blame her. It was a magnificent torso.

“You two know Channing, right?” My hostess training never shut off.

“Not as well as I'd like to,” Melanie said. “But yes, we met you when we first arrived on the island.”

“How about you, Caitlyn?” I pressed. “You know Channing?”

Her eyes were big and brown behind the thick black frames of her oversized eyeglasses. “Yes, from around the island.” She went back to her fruit salad.

I don't know what I thought I was accomplishing here. She was hardly likely to admit she'd been stalking him, however naïve or harmless her intentions. And he might be too much of a gentleman to embarrass her in front of me and Melanie. And if she hadn't been following Channing in the throes of hipster-lust, she'd been following me and Jack that day at Gladys's house. I needed to sit her and Melanie down for a nice long private chat. And soon.

“Liza asked me to give you all a ride over to Bonaparte Bay this morning,” Channing said, draining his coffee cup. “Will you have a lot of luggage? If you do, I'll take the bigger boat.”

Caitlyn piped up. “We each have one bag with the essentials. We didn't expect to be attending calling hours and a funeral, so we'll be going to Watertown and shopping for suitable clothes this morning.” She tapped at her phone. “And we should get going.” The girl was efficient, I had to give her that.

“Then I assume you can carry your own bags if they're small? I'll go get the boat ready. Meet me at the dock. It's a beautiful morning for a ride on the St. Lawrence.” Channing headed for the door. The head of every woman in the room, including the three at my table, turned to watch that pair of jeans walk out of the room.

“Damn. That is a fine piece of man-flesh,” Melanie said.

“Yeah, you made it pretty clear how you feel about him. He's taken, so claws off.” I felt protective of Liza all of a sudden.