ShadowsintheMist (12 page)

I was already too far away to reply and my mind was working
furiously. Ghosts! What rubbish! Yet, Lottie’s words had raised the hackles at
the nape of my neck and a shiver ran up my spine. I zipped up my windbreaker
and let myself out the front door.

* * * * *

“I’m sorry, Miss Dirkston. We really aren’t allowed to show
you our files.”

The uniformed man sitting behind the desk spoke with bored
patience, as though my request was typical of many that passed through his
office. He was a tall man with long, gangly arms hanging from shirt sleeves a
fraction too short. His hair was blond and clipped regimentally short, so his
head appeared to be too small atop his broad shoulders. His long-fingered hands
were folded neatly on the desk in front of him.

“What makes you think there’s something unusual about your
father’s death?” he asked at my look of perplexity.

“I didn’t say I did.”

“Well, I can’t see any other reason why you’d want to see
the investigation file.”

“Sergeant, we’re speaking of my father here, not some stray
cat run over by a car. I think I have a right to see what the police have found
out about his death. Or is there some secret you’re keeping?”

“Of course not, Miss Dirkston! If there were anything out of
the ordinary, the family would be notified.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Well? What’s the problem then?”

He shifted his gaze and drummed his fingers nervously. “It’s
just that…well, it’s against official policy. We can’t just open our files to
anyone who comes in. We’d have to put on a whole staff of clerks just to cater
to the whims of every Tom, Dick or Harry!”

He seemed genuinely apologetic and I relented. “All right,
then perhaps you could at least tell me what the coroner’s report says.”

He cast a speculative eye over me, then with a sigh, stood
up and went to the filing cabinet behind him.

“I really should tell you to go to the coroner’s office for
that but since I’m not entirely heartless…”

He laid a file in front of him and leafed through the
papers, selecting one and passing it across the desk. “It’s all spelled out in
medical jargon but help yourself. I have to attend to some business. I’ll be
back in a few moments.”

He left the room, shutting the door behind him and I studied
the report. Much of it I didn’t understand but the long and short of it was “The
victim died from a slow cerebral hemorrhage resulting from a severe concussion
to the side of the head”.

Setting the paper aside, I reached across the desk and
pulled the rest of the file in front of me. I suspected the good sergeant had
left it accessible on purpose and I made a mental note to repay him some day.

The folder contained a number of reports that offered an
assortment of useless facts relating to the position of the body, age, weight,
height, build, hundreds of measurements. There were also notes on interviews
with various members of the family. There was nothing there to substantiate my
budding suspicions.

The fact there was no evidence to show how Leo had struck
his head puzzled me. It was as if the accident had been neatly packaged and
forgotten. There was nothing to say Leo struck his head on the side of the
pool. There was blood found on the concrete near the edge but that could have
spilled anytime, possibly even after someone struck him.

I shivered. Why was I questioning the evidence? Surely, the
police knew more about these things than I did. But a voice at the back of my
mind argued. They may know more about the laws but you know more about Leo
Dirkston. I could not—would not—believe he died simply because of a stumble and
fall. The only alternative was someone had caused the accident and that, I
realized with icy clarity, was tantamount to murder.

The sound of approaching footsteps made me jump and I shoved
the papers back into the file and across the desk, plastering a serene smile on
my face just as the police officer resumed his seat in the swivel chair
opposite.

“Find anything?” His eyes glittered knowingly.

I shook my head. “Like you said, it’s all very technical. I
do have one question, though, that perhaps you can answer?”

“Yes?”

“How do we know my father hit his head on the side of the
pool? Isn’t it possible someone struck him, then pushed him into the water?”

His reaction to my bluntness was one of supreme tolerance. “I
don’t think that’s plausible, Miss Dirkston. With all the advanced equipment we
have these days, that avenue would’ve been well examined.”

“But was it?” I persisted.

He stood up impatiently. “Look here. I realize you’re a
novelist and you must need to spend a great deal of time cultivating a creative
imagination but it seems to me you’re looking for trouble where there isn’t
any. Your father was an influential man. If there was any question of foul
play, we’d know about it.”

His eyes softened. “I know this has been a trying time for
you. Believe me, I’ve had a lot of experience with bereaved families and, in
most cases, refusal to accept an unexpected or violent death is quite common.
There’s a psychologist here in Ludington who’s extremely qualified and has
dealt with this sort of thing before. Perhaps…”

“No!” I rose, clutching my purse white-knuckled. “I’m not
crazy! You all seem to think…” I didn’t finish because the look in his eyes
told me my reaction had simply reinforced his opinion. “Thank you, Sergeant,” I
said, forcing myself to be calm. I held out my hand.

He took it gently. “If there’s anything I or my staff can
do, Miss Dirkston, don’t hesitate to call. Perhaps a holiday might be in order,
eh?”

I managed a smile.

“Perhaps,” I said through gritted teeth, then hurried out,
collapsing with relief onto the seat of my car, still cursing my stupidity.

Of course, no one else would be suspicious. Why would they?
I hardly knew myself why I was so convinced something was afoot. I felt like
some inner force was egging me on despite the possibility of unpleasant
discoveries or general disapproval. It was unlike me. I was usually a prime
example of innocent gullibility.

Perhaps they’re right. Maybe I do need some professional
help.
But I still didn’t believe my father’s death was an accident. Despite
what anyone believed, I wouldn’t rest until I knew for sure what had actually
happened that night.

“Suzanna! Hey!”

I was startled out of my reverie and looked up. Jenny
Hampton was running toward me, excited, her straight blonde hair flying like a
curtain behind her as she waved. Delighted, I got out of the car to meet her.

“Jenny,” I cried as she flew up and threw her arms around
me. We embraced warmly.

“I thought it was you but I wasn’t sure,” she said
breathlessly. “Your hair’s shorter.”

“You’ve hardly changed at all,” I rejoined. “What’s it been?
Almost eight years?”

She nodded, pushing her long locks away from her face.

She was quite a bit taller than I with a sweet oval face and
shining blue eyes fringed with thick dark lashes. What I remembered in her as
gawky lankiness had developed into svelte beauty. But if she were aware of her
attractiveness, she didn’t show it. Her face was free of makeup and she wore
simple jeans and a sweatshirt.

“What are you doing back here?” I questioned. “Last time you
wrote, you were in New York!”

She shrugged. “I didn’t like it. It was just too busy. As a
matter of fact, I’m kind of taking a break at the moment. I’ve decided to look
for a teaching position in the area. Don’t laugh! I know I told you I’d
probably never use my teaching certificate. Anyway, I’m staying with Mom for
the time being.”

Suddenly her smile faded and she placed a hand on my
shoulder. “God, I heard about your dad. I’m so sorry.”

I nodded. Her sympathy caused tears to well up in my eyes. I
fumbled for a tissue.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve hardly cried at all. It all seems
so…so unreal.”

“I can understand,” she agreed. “When my father died, I felt
the same.” Then, to lighten the mood, she said, “Come on! How about getting an
ice cream at Bender’s—just like old times?”

I gave a sobbing laugh. “But it’s only ten in the morning!”

Her face set with determination. “Since when were you Miss
Logical? I want a pistachio nut and coffee-ice. And you’ll have… What was it?
Oh, yes…butter-pecan and chocolate-chip-mint!”

We both giggled like schoolgirls and, linking arms, strolled
the few short blocks to Bender’s Ice Cream Parlor.

Once seated at an outside table with our favorite
indulgences, we eyed one another appreciatively. Jenny was like a breath of
fresh air and for once, I felt able to talk and laugh freely. The nagging
doubts of the morning vanished into temporary oblivion. We compared notes on
our lives since going our separate ways.

Jenny, after graduating from the university, followed her
dream of becoming a model to New York where she quickly discovered that the
competition was overwhelming and her chances of rising to any degree of
recognition were slim. She made enough money to keep a tiny apartment in the
suburbs but was able to save very little and eventually was forced to admit she
had no future there. Besides, she detested New York and felt alien and insecure
amid all the hustle and bustle.

“If I ever had to actually drive into the city,” she said,
laughing, “I’d have to take along a crowbar just to get someone to pry my
fingers off the wheel. It was a nightmare!”

I nodded. “I know what you mean. I think you have to be born
and bred in the city to feel comfortable there.”

I told her about myself. About my decision to eke out a
living on my own. About my novel and my career hopes. “Unfortunately, since
this thing with Dad, everything has turned topsy-turvy. I hardly know whether I’m
coming or going, let alone how I’ll ever finish this new manuscript on time.” I
frowned, remembering my father’s disapproval of my aspirations.

She reached across the table and took my hand. “Don’t worry.
It does get better. It just takes time.”

I smiled and squeezed her hand in return. “There’s more to
it, unfortunately.”

She cocked a curious brow and I told her everything—about
the will, about the man on the road and near the grave and about last night’s
incident at the pool. “I was just at the police station trying to find out if
it could be possible Dad was…” I hesitated.

“Was?” she prompted.

“Well, that maybe his accident wasn’t an accident.”

“Oh, no! Do you really think it’s possible?” She shuddered
violently. “But who would do such a thing? And why?” She paused, considering. “Your
dad might’ve had a few enemies, eh? I mean, being involved in a huge
corporation like Dirkston Enterprises, he was bound to have stepped on a few
toes.”

I nodded, relieved that at least she hadn’t immediately
thought I was crazy. “It just doesn’t sit right with me, Jenny. Call it a hunch
but I just think there’s something more to this than meets the eye. And
everyone at Beacon seems so…so…odd, lately.”

“I can’t believe they all kept you in the dark about your
father’s will! I’d be so furious. What do you think you’ll do now?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing by going along
with it?”

“I don’t know that either. I used to think it didn’t matter.
After all, it’s only a piece of paper and the conditions say the marriage only
has to last a year but now, with this notion someone—maybe even Grant
himself—could’ve contributed to Dad’s death… Well, I wonder if I’m making a big
mistake.”

Jenny was thoughtful, weighing the possibilities. “Look, for
what it’s worth, I’ll help you out. I don’t know what I can do but you can
count on me.”

I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Jen, you’ve already made me
feel a lot better. I was beginning to think I was losing my mind.”

“No way, José,” she said lightly. “If you’re crazy then that
makes two of us!”

We laughed again, comfortably pleased. We reminisced for a
short while longer and parted only after making a date to go canoeing the next
day.

Before heading home, I stopped into the marina to arrange to
pick up the equipment for our outing. David was busy with ledgers when I
arrived but he shut the books immediately and greeted me with concern.

“I was worried about you all night,” he said. “Shouldn’t you
spend a day or two recuperating? Dad reckons you need more rest.”

“I’ve had plenty of rest, David. Stop worrying! I’d like to
forget last night ever happened. It was just a stupid mistake.”

“One that came close to drowning you!”

I changed the subject. “How about you? Have you recovered
from the shock of losing me to another man?” I tried to make my voice light and
frivolous but it sounded cold and accusing.

Fortunately, his phlegmatic poise remained unshaken. “I
guess I did rant on a bit yesterday,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It
just came as a bit of a surprise.”

“I thought you were quite in control, considering,” I said
wryly.

“Well, I’d still like to apologize. I’ll go along with
whatever you decide, of course. Though I wish it were me instead of Grant on
the receiving end.”

I cocked my head, eyeing him knowingly. “Colin’s already
told you, hasn’t he?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes, he mentioned you made
a tentative decision to go ahead with the marriage—though I’d prefer to call it
a temporary partnership.”

“Yes, well, there’s no point in going over it, is there?” I
said briskly.

“Have you set a date?” he asked.

This was the last straw. “Set a date? For God’s sake, David!
Doesn’t it matter that I have to marry Grant Fenton? Or does this damn marina
mean more to you than…than us?” My cheeks were flaming. “No! No, I haven’t ‘set
a date’. I haven’t even gotten used to the idea of being joined in matrimony to
a man I can barely tolerate. Are you in such a big hurry to get rid of me?”