The Green Remains (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

“The day started badly and then got worse.”

— John Treherne,
The Trap

3:45
PM

Nora sat silently at Simon’s kitchen table, watching as Ian left, closing the door behind him. This time he had not objected to Simon’s presence while he questioned her, reviewing all of her actions since she’d woken that morning. He pushed into the evening before, when Nora, Kate and Simon had eaten in the lodge dining room, then had watched a video together.

  “
Sleepless in Seattle
,” Simon explained. “Ladies’ choice.”

  Nora described going to her room after the movie and settling in bed, reading her name book before falling asleep. Ian told her he’d probably have more questions after the toxicology results were in. He seemed apologetic as he left.

  Simon stood at the sink, watching Ian walk away. “Why is he harping on you? You’d think you were a suspect. He bloody well knows you had nothing to do with this.”

  Nora shook her head. “Of course he does—but I found the body. Ian has to ask me the same questions he would of anyone. His every action will be scrutinized.”

  Especially, she thought but didn’t say, given his close friendship with the Ramsey family. She noted Ian hadn’t asked to speak with Kate.

  Simon turned to face her as she rose from her chair to join him at the window. She knew he wanted to help her up, but months of getting to know her independent streak had taught him she’d ask for help if she wanted it. Fingers of dull sunlight hit her face, and she relished their warmth. Pushing her glasses back up her nose, Nora straightened her shoulders, causing her belly to protrude further. She flashed Simon a brief smile. “Thanks for staying with me.”

  He nodded, moving nearer, his deep-blue eyes searching hers for an invitation. She longed to lay her head against his chest and gather his heat. Fear of fulfilling her own needs but wrongly encouraging him held her back. The moment of silence stretched too long between them.

  “Let’s finish the proofing,” Nora said. “Anything to keep Keith from my mind.”

*

For more than an hour, they worked on the book. Nora scrutinized the text and checked to ensure that the fairies’ expressions in Simon’s illustrations were delightful rather than frightful for young readers. Simon used a magnifying glass to look for minute color errors in the illustrations. The light faded more, and sounds from the lodge kitchen indicated the prep work for the evening meal had begun.

  Despite her nap, the strain of the day had caught up with Nora. Her arms and legs felt weighted down and heavy. Even the baby had been relentless in his kicking this afternoon. She and Simon had just closed the proof book when Simon’s buzzer rang, and he slid open the pocket door between his suite and the hallway to reveal a young woman with shiny, brunette hair falling over one eye. Maeve Addams, the lodge’s assistant manager, stood framed in the doorway, wearing a silky blouse and a short, plaid skirt that showed off her excellent legs. Nora didn’t know why the woman aroused such negative feelings in her.

  That was nonsense; of course she knew. Maeve made no secret of her attraction to Simon.  Nora’s dislike of Maeve had only intensified as her pregnancy advanced and was amplified by the fact that Nora had no clarity concerning her own feelings for the man and also had no right to be possessive of him.

  Maeve held a clipboard in one hand. “Sorry to bother, guv, but there’s a shortage on the paper goods, and I didn’t want to let the shipper go until you straightened it out with him.”

  “No problem; we’re finished here,” Simon answered. “Please tell Agnes to have our table set for three tonight, would you? We’re all going to take a break from work this evening.”

  Nora saw a flash of anger cross Maeve’s pretty face that Simon, washing his hands at his kitchen sink, missed.

  “Will do. You’re the talk of the town, Nora, what with finding Keith’s body and everything,” Maeve said. She flashed Nora a dazzling smile.

  Nora groped for a snappy comeback, but none came to mind. Instead, she found herself saying, “I think I’ll have a rest before dinner,” when she wasn’t tired at all. She had a sudden need to be alone.

  “Good idea. I’ll knock on your door ten minutes before, shall I?” Simon said, drying his hands.

  Nora resisted her impulse to hug him tightly in front of Maeve. “That will be great,” she said and crossed the hall to her suite. Closing the door behind her, her mind in turmoil, she looked at the rumpled bed from her earlier nap. She hit the button on her CD player, and the sound of Johnny Hartman singing “I’ll Never Smile Again” filled the room. Nora smirked at the choice of song, a perfect fit for her mood, and kicked off her shoes before stretching out on her bed. She drew the duvet from the foot of the bed over her and reached for her name book. Pregnancy tired her, but this was different. She wanted to run backward in time to a place where everything felt safe, and there were few surprises and even less choices to have to make. Who would understand how drained she felt?

  Perhaps only someone who lived with murder as a frequent companion, someone like Declan Barnes.

Chapter Twelve

“I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story.”

— Edith Wharton,
Ethan Frome

8
PM

Friday evenings were a popular night at the lodge, and the dining room was full. Nora was grateful their table stood in one corner, where she could watch people coming and going. She hoped Maeve was wrong, that people were not talking about her. It was an odd and uncomfortable feeling, and she wondered if Maeve had been telling the truth or just trying to wind her up, as Val would say.

  She watched Maeve move about the room, seating a few diners. Was that a smirk of derision on the woman’s face when she caught Nora observing her? Nora speculated about Simon’s awareness of Maeve’s interest and wondered if he ever encouraged it. He’d been called over to a table to offer a wine recommendation, and as he stood talking to the guests, she saw Maeve undress him with her eyes. Bloody hell—she wished for a better mood.

  When Simon returned, Kate took her seat, and the three of them lingered over dinner, a delectable prime rib of beef with Yorkshire pudding. Nora’s stomach seemed finally to be relaxing, and she ate more than she’d anticipated. If only she could indulge in a glass of wine.

  From time to time, Kate jumped up to greet a patron. Nora had seen how Simon and his sister were the heart of Ramsey Lodge, gracious to the people they knew, welcoming to those
passing through or staying the night. The fireplace glowed in the elegant room, reflecting off the polished wide-plank floors. White table linens were a crisp oasis; the clink of glass and china against silver provided backdrop noise, accompanied by soft, piped-in classical music.

  “All done?” Simon asked, his smile lighting up his face.

  In this light, his eyes were a clear blue, and Nora felt a surge of attraction to him immediately followed by a rush of annoyance for his ability to confuse her. Sod off, Mr. Perfect. She quickly chastised herself. Totally wrong, Nora. It’s not his fault you’re heavily pregnant, have roiling hormones and found a dead body this morning. “Stuffed,” she answered.

  “It’s Kate’s turn to close down,” he said. “Let’s sit and talk.”

  She followed him to his rooms, accompanied by Darby, the little dog trotting beside her. Simon shut the door to his studio and locked his kitchen door. He set about competently lighting a fire. Nora sank into one of the overstuffed swivel chairs in Simon’s sitting area and snuggled into the down cushion. She rotated the chair to watch as Simon rolled up his shirtsleeves. The blonde hair covering his forearms became visible in the light from the flames, and their lean muscles and tendons stood out. Nora’s annoyance with Simon faded as the wood caught and filled the room with its comforting scent.

  Without asking, Simon put on a kettle and bustled about his kitchen making proper tea. Nora swiveled again to watch him pour a healthy shot of brandy into his mug. He brought both mugs over and set them to cool on the glass-topped trunk that doubled as a coffee table.

  Leaning over her, he lightly rubbed his hand over her belly and gave her a smile. “All right in there after today?”

  “I think so. He was very active this afternoon.” They sat together quietly as the flames grew, the colors deepening as yellow and orange gave way to streaks of blue.

  “What were you working on today in your studio?” Nora asked. She was surprised when he hesitated. Did it have something to do with that phone call?

  “A special project,” he answered vaguely.

  Nora stole a glance at Simon. He studiously avoided meeting her eye. Whatever it was, he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. She chewed the inside of her cheek and decided it was in both of their interests to change the subject.

  “You said you’d tell me about the Clarendons,” she reminded him. “Tell me their story.”

  Simon slipped off his shoes and shoved aside a pile of art magazines to prop his long feet on the coffee table. Darby jumped up and settled on his lap, and he rubbed the dog’s ears.

  Nora slipped her own loafers off and grabbed her mug of tea. Her feet didn’t reach the floor, so she curled them to one side and pushed a throw pillow under her baby bulge to support it. Comfortable, she settled back to hear the story.

  “There are two brothers, the older Edmunde and the younger Sommer. Edmunde was a big man with a hearty laugh and what my mum delicately called ‘a roving eye.’ He could have had any woman he wanted, he was that charming, but the one he wanted was an actress he saw on stage in London. He was smitten and followed her all over Europe as the play toured, until he captured her heart. Julia was a beautiful woman who gave up her career to marry him and settle here. Everyone thought she would tire of Edmunde and miss her life in the theater, but she seemed to like being buried in these hills.”

  Simon was a natural storyteller. Nora closed her eyes and pictured the events as they unfolded.

  “They lived at Clarendon Hall with Sommer and Antonia, who had already been married a few years without children. Antonia wanted children desperately and became depressed about it. But she and Julia became great friends, and they finally got pregnant around the same time. The family owned huge amounts of property at the time and had their fingers in several industries, including agriculture. They rented land to farmers and herders, while other tenants lived in cottages on their land. When they were happy, the town prospered from their generosity. Rumor had it they might even build a new school.”

  Simon paused to take a sip of his laced tea.

  “Sommer was always interested in horticulture and was known for his gardens. Just before the babies were due, he took a trip north to a factory in Scotland, where prize seeds of his were being grown for hybrid perennials. On his way home, there was a terrible accident: A lorry pulled out of a rest stop and didn’t see his black car coming over the top of a hill. It was a miracle he survived, but there were severe injuries to his spinal cord. The shock and strain put Antonia into labor, and while she was delivering, Julia went into labor, too.”

  Nora’s eyes popped opened. “What happened?”

  “Antonia delivered Keith, but Julia developed complications. She delivered a little girl, but she died a few hours later.” Simon’s voice softened. “Her baby was sickly, and Edmunde refused to see or hold her. He blamed the poor thing for Julia’s death. I think the infant only lived a matter of hours and then she died, too.”

  “What a heartache for them all,” Nora said. She placed a hand across her belly. A surge of affection for the child she carried rushed over her, and she closed her eyes. Please, she silently prayed, let my baby be born healthy.

  “It was a bad time for the whole town. Everywhere, people mourned Julia and the baby, while they worried about Sommer and his accident. It took a long time for things to settle down. Baby Keith was a delight to everyone—but his uncle, Edmunde, became withdrawn. As the years passed, he took to drinking, and it spun out of control. He never got over Julia’s death and became reclusive except for drunken forays and bouts of womanizing. About two years ago, he had a terrible stroke. One entire side of him is paralyzed, the rest weakened, and he’s given up trying to speak.”

  “My God,” Nora breathed. “It’s like some kind of Greek tragedy.”

  “That it is, my girl.” Simon stared deeply into the fire. A knock at the door had Darby sitting up. Kate pulled the door open and walked in, empty glass in hand.

  “I’ve come for my spot of brandy, but I see you’ve started without me.”

  “I was just telling Nora the saga of the Clarendons.” Simon rose and retrieved the brandy bottle, then poured Kate a shot.

  Kate spread out on the couch, propping her head on the arm. “Quite a story, isn’t it? I feel so badly for Antonia. She was devoted to Keith, and this will devastate her. I’ll go and see her—Mum would have.” She sipped her brandy. “By the way, that charter for breakfast tomorrow cancelled—they’ve gone to Hawkshead instead—so it should be quiet.”

  Simon nodded. “I’ll be around if you’d like the day off until dinner.”

  Kate smiled at him with affection. “That would be lovely. Ian called, but I haven’t returned his call yet. I’m still miffed at how he treated Nora this morning.”

  Nora rushed to reassure her, explaining how Ian’s attitude had changed at their second meeting that afternoon. The last thing she wanted was to be a source of friction in the life of the happy couple. “Ian said the pathologist didn’t find water in Keith’s lungs. He thinks he might have been under the influence of some kind of drug,” Nora said.

  Kate sat up at the news. “Drugs? You mean suicide or murder? Either sounds so unlikely. Why would Keith kill himself—and who would want him dead?”

  As Nora sipped her tea, she wondered the same thing. Her shock over finding Keith’s body was wearing off, and her usual grit and determination were returning. Her reporter’s instincts kicked in. Here was an opportunity for her to snoop and to get to the bottom of things, and while she was at it, she could try to identify the research that Keith had mentioned he would share with her. If she found the reason for Keith’s death, it would clear the air between Kate and Ian, too. “Kate, when you visit Keith’s mother, might I tag along? I feel like I should offer my condolences, especially since I knew him in Oxford, and I’m the one who found him. And maybe I can get a look at those books he offered me.” She ignored Simon’s throat clearing. It would be just like him to tell her not to get involved. There was more than a hint of mystery surrounding Keith’s death, and she had perfectly good reasons to visit his home.

  “I’d love the company, Nora. Let’s go later in the morning, shall we?” Kate stretched out luxuriously. “I, for once, am sleeping in.”