Eighteen

On the way home, they didn't talk about what they'd heard. The day had been too long and too full of drama for them to fully digest it all. When they got back, Sara disappeared into her writing room "to make some notes."

Kate and Jack went to the kitchen. She put away the contents of the grocery bags they'd left behind when they'd run out the door. Jack began slicing peppers and onions for the grill.

"I'll get a couple of the men to take the MINI to the body shop tomorrow," he said.

Kate nodded but didn't speak.

"Actually, I need to buy a new truck. Maybe we can all go to the Chevy dealer and pick out one. You and Sara can choose the color."

Again Kate nodded. She was standing beside Jack and peeling an onion for him to slice. The fumes were bothering her eyes.

He wasn't fooled. He set down the knife and put his arms around her. Her arms were hanging flat against her sides.

The tears came hard, wetting his T-shirt. "A baby," she whispered. "Three of them died, not two. They..."

Jack was stroking her hair. "I know. She was such a nice girl and she must have been in love and..." He was too choked up to speak.

Kate kept crying. All she could think about was what Arthur had told them.

Cheryl was going to have a baby and she thought she was going to be married and get a good job at a TV station and live happily ever after. "But her life was taken away from her," Kate said.

"And her mother's."

"And the baby's." Kate's tears strengthened and she clasped Jack about the waist.

"Now he'd be—" Jack broke off when the doorbell rang. "Ignore it," he muttered and clasped Kate tighter.

She pulled away and wiped her eyes. "It might be important."

With a grimace, he headed to the front door, Kate a step behind him. He looked out the glass panel, then turned to her in anger. "It's him."

"Mr. Niederman?"

Jack's eyes darkened.

She understood. It was Alastair.

"Don't ask him to stay. Don't tell him anything. Don't go out with him. You might slip up and tell him something."

"Jack," Kate said with a smile, "go screw yourself." Turning, she hurried toward her bedroom.

"Where are you going?" He was practically hissing. "Don't leave me alone with him."

"Man up and talk to him," she said over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

With the speed of light, Kate repaired her face and pulled on a cute cotton sleeveless blouse and midthigh shorts. Tasteful, not too revealing, but she hoped sexy.

As she stepped back from the mirror, she said, "What do you think, Cheryl?" For a moment she paused and blinked back more tears. How involved her life had become with those two women! She opened the door.

Sara had come out of her room and she was with Jack and Alastair in the kitchen. Alastair had a glass of cola and Kate would bet that Jack hadn't poured it for him.

Jack was still chopping things and he gave Kate a look as though he was being greatly imposed upon.

"Hi," Alastair said to Kate. His eyes swiftly moved up and down her in an approving way.

Kate smiled demurely. "It's lovely to see you again."

Jack rolled his eyes at her formality. Ignoring him, she went forward and exchanged double-cheek kisses with Alastair.

"Alastair brought something from high school to show you," Sara said.

"Honor-roll certificate?" Jack had been moving about the kitchen quite well, but now he made a big display of using his crutches.

"I didn't mean to just show up," Alastair said to Kate, "but I did send you some text messages."

"Sorry, but I didn't look at my phone. Today has been, uh, very busy."

"Bet your mother is frantic with worry," Jack said. "You should call her."

"She'll live," Sara said. "Alastair, please, let's sit down and you can show us what you brought. Jack doesn't need us to use a grill."

Jack mumbled something but they couldn't hear what it was. He stayed in the kitchen while Sara, Kate and Alastair went a few feet away and sat down on the sofa.

Immediately, Alastair's eyes went to the wall. On both sides of the big TV, they'd taped photos enlarged from the high-school yearbook, and the names of people they had talked to or wanted to interview. In large letters was printed Cheryl's Birthday.

"I see you've made some progress in your investigation," Alastair said.

Sara gave a little laugh. "'Fraid it has all come to a permanent standstill. Happened too long ago to find out anything now, and besides, Sheriff Flynn was threatening us that we had better stop. I've decided to use the work we did as inspiration for a new book."

Alastair was sitting between them and Kate looked around him to stare wide-eyed at Sara. She was certainly good at lying!

"So what do you have to show us?" Sara asked.

Alastair leaned back on the couch. "My mother found a high-school clipping that I'd like to show you." He turned to Jack, who was frowning in the kitchen. "Actually, I came to see you."

It was a moment before Jack looked up to see them staring at him. "Me?"

"Yes. Last night I had dinner with my mother and three of her lady friends. I don't mean to sound elitist, but they are all rich widows, and they don't like condo living. Too many young people, too much noise. They've decided that they'd like to buy your houses, all six of them. After you've remodeled them, of course. And they'd like to buy some more houses there, too. For more friends. They also want one of the houses made into a kind of gym-cum-spa and to put in a pool. Basically, they've dreamed up a retirement living community, but where they get their own homes instead of being cooped up in apartments."

Through all this, Jack had been listening with his knife aloft. He put it down and grabbed his crutches. "Kate! Finish this up. And add some more veggies. Alastair, would you please stay for dinner? It's not much but we'll do our best."

Kate got up, and as she passed Jack on her way to the kitchen, she murmured, "Money sings a new song."

Jack was smiling at Alastair too broadly to pay any attention to her snarkiness. Minutes later they moved to the outdoor kitchen and the big grill. Jack went with Alastair and left the women to bring out the food and drinks.

Once they were outside, Jack became the ultimate host. He crushed ice in a big blender and made a pitcher of margaritas. He served Alastair first.

"This is a nice layout." Alastair swerved around on his stool to look at the pool and covered lanai. "Mom and her ladies would love this. When I lived here—" He waved his hand. "You don't want to hear about the olden days."

Kate and Sara were sipping their drinks. "We'd love to hear."

"Everything in the house was very formal. Mom was raised in a family in Philadelphia that sat down every night to a dinner with three forks. To her, the Florida lifestyle was almost too informal to bear."

"And now?" Kate asked.

"She's adjusted well. Yesterday I had lunch at her condo and each plate had just one fork—with a bamboo handle!"

"Downright decadent." Kate was looking at him over her glass.

"And what about Hamish?" Sara was on a stool beside Kate.

Alastair shrugged. "You know what Dad was like. He was at home anywhere. Very easygoing, affable man. Everyone liked him."

"That's true." Sara was smiling in memory. "He used to visit Cal and me at our houses."

No one said it aloud but the thought that the man who'd grown up in the Stewart Mansion would visit the run-down houses of the Wyatts and Medlars said a lot about him.

"He sounds nice," Kate said.

"And so is my mother," Alastair said. "Except when she's nagging me to get married and give her grandchildren. Then she's a terror."

There was silence as Alastair and Kate smiled at each other over their drinks.

Jack's voice, so loud the birds stopped singing, broke the silence. "So how much say do you want in the remodeling? If you buy the houses, that is?"

Alastair whirled his stool to face him. "I'd love to say none. From what I see of this place, I'd give you carte blanche. But four rich widows with empty days... Sorry, but I'm sure they'll drive you insane. Think you can handle it?"

"Easily," Jack said.

"Mind if I look at this?" Sara asked. The envelope he'd brought was on the bar.

"Please do," Alastair said. "I think I should warn you that Sheriff Flynn has kept my mother informed of everything he knows." He looked at Jack. "Sorry to tell you this, but your stepmother and grandmother have practically camped out in his office. They want Roy's name cleared. And Gena Upton has come out of the woodwork to set herself up as someone who needs 24/7 protection. She suggested Deputy Pete for the job."

"The hunk at the desk," Sara said.

"That's the one. Anyway, once the sheriff gave us a date for the murder, it was easy to find out where I was at the time." When Kate started to speak, he smiled. "It's okay. It didn't take much deduction to realize that every person in the school is a suspect. But then, everyone on the planet who was alive then remembers that weekend."

Kate wasn't sure what he meant, but Sara's and Jack's faces were also blank. They had no idea what he was talking about.

"The funeral of Princess Diana," Alastair said. "I remember it clearly. The team and I were in Naples that weekend for a training boot camp. The coaches were having fun seeing how much they could put us through before we fell down dead." He looked at Jack. "You remember those camps, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah."

Sara had pulled out the contents of the envelope. There were two newspaper clippings inside plastic slipcovers. Some of the players, like Alastair, were preparing for college in the fall, and they were the best from three counties. There was a banquet photo for the Friday night they were pretty sure Cheryl and her mother were murdered. The next morning Roy and Krystal had gone to the house. It was open and empty, the packed van in the driveway. It was possible that the bodies were buried just a few feet away. Had the tree been planted already?

Sara flipped through the pages. There was a copy of the week's schedule. It went hour by hour, from early to late. The last page was a certificate saying that Alastair Stewart had attended every class every day. It was signed and had a gold seal on it.

"I guess it's my alibi."

"You didn't need one." As she spoke, Kate looked at Jack.

"I think everyone in this town needs an alibi for that night," Alastair replied. He turned back to Jack. "Not to change the subject, but would you mind if I put dibs on the Morris house for my mother?"

"No, of course not."

"And we'd like to name the meeting place the CV Morris Clubhouse. You think anyone would mind?"

"I think that would be very nice," Sara said.

They had an enjoyable meal—Jack had wrapped the fish in banana leaves that Sara had pulled off a short tree in the garden—as they talked about Jack's previous remodelings. When he told what he wanted to do with the six houses he had purchased, Kate noticed that he never revealed that he and Sara were partners in the business. Kate had his flash drive of accounts but she'd not looked at it. She told herself that she hadn't had time. But what really kept her from looking was trust and a growing sense of loyalty.

The four of them sat at one end of the stone table near the outdoor kitchen. As Jack unrolled plans at the far end, Sara told them that he had designed the big table and had it made. The pride in her voice was almost embarrassing.

Alastair said he hated to be the voice of doom but his mother was going to want more: marble floors, glass-and-chrome built-ins, tiered ceilings, maple kitchen, gold bathroom fixtures.

"All that will cost you," Jack said.

Alastair smiled at Sara. "Thanks to you, she can afford it."

"All that glamour isn't good for resale," Kate said. "You're overbuilding the neighborhood."

"I know," Alastair said. "I told her that, but Mother has been so affected by the horror of what was done in her little town that she wants to do something about it."

"‘Her' town?" Sara arched an eyebrow.

Alastair shrugged. "I know she wasn't born here, but she feels close to the place." He paused. "I shouldn't tell this because it's meant to be a surprise, but Mother has commissioned an Italian sculptor to make a double bust of the two women. She plans to erect it over the, uh, where the tree was planted."

"That's kind of her," Kate said. "And I'm sure Cheryl would have loved marble floors."

Alastair smiled. "From what I've heard of her, I agree. So, Jack, how about another bathroom on the side here? Mother may come to need live-in help."

"I'm not sure the property is big enough, but I'll work on it."

It wasn't until after the dinner, and after going over the plans, that Alastair turned his attention to Kate. "I don't mean to impose on your evening, but you promised to show me around the house."

The way he looked at her was so hot that her hair nearly stood on end. "Of course. We could—" She turned to Jack and Sara, feeling as though she was asking permission.

Sara gave a nod but Jack busied himself with rolling up the plans.

"I'll show you my gorgeous suite," she said, then led the way.

Kate felt a bit like a schoolgirl smuggling a man into her bedroom, but it was nice to think of something besides the murders.

She showed him her living room first, its big window looking out to the beautifully lit garden.

"This was my bedroom." He smiled. "I used to sneak out the side door to meet Delia. Ah, those moonlight meetings."

Turning, he drew her into his arms and gently kissed her. "I've wanted to do that since I rescued you on the street. A beautiful young woman with flowers and fruit. You were my fantasy."

"An almost dead one." She stepped away from him. They were alone but other people were nearby. "Want to see the courtyard?" She felt a bit awkward leading him past her bath and bedroom. She was glad she'd made up her bed.

Outside, the night was silvery dark and there were little lights on the fountain.

The girl dancing in the rain was beautiful.

"I am in awe," Alastair said. "This was part of the house where my mother never went. The maid's room was there and she hung out the laundry here where it couldn't be seen."

"That leads to Jack's room."

"I tend to forget that he lives with you."

"With us."

Alastair took both her hands in his. "Kate, I'm worried about you."

"Jack and I aren't—"

"No, not that. This afternoon Sheriff Flynn asked me if I could help persuade you to stop your very unprofessional investigation. He's worried about all of you. And so am I."

She dropped his hands. "It's not fair that Roy is assumed to be a killer."

"Then you are continuing to investigate!"

Kate clamped her mouth shut. She was doing exactly what Jack had feared: she was accidentally giving away information.

"I understand your feelings," he said. "From what I remember of Cheryl, she was a sweet girl. I'm like everyone else and want to know who really killed her, but the sheriff told us what may have happened to Mrs. Ellerbee. No one is sure if her death was an accident or intentional. Kate, the murderer may still be at large. And if he thinks you're onto him, he may need to commit more murders." His eyes were begging her to listen to him.

"We have stopped," Kate said. "Aunt Sara just wants to use the facts for a book. She's thinking of moving from romance to murder mysteries. She's really bored doing nothing all day. Jack and I plan to help her with the research. When we aren't working at our own jobs, that is. My mother wants to—to, uh, come here and..."

She trailed off. It looked like she hadn't inherited her aunt's ability to lie. From Alastair's expression, he didn't believe a word she was saying.

"You aren't going to stop until you dig up the truth, are you?"

She wasn't going to answer that.

"Okay, I understand. All I ask is that you please, please be careful. I don't want you to be hurt." He was quiet as he looked at her. "This is a waste of moonlight, but I think we should leave here. If we take too much time, Jack may show his true Wyatt nature. Think he'd use a sledgehammer to come through the wall?"

She knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but he had scared her. There was danger in what they were doing. And he didn't even know that the crash that killed Evan wasn't an accident.

He held out his arm for her to take. "Shall we?"

She slipped her arm through his and he put his hand over hers.

"If there is anything I can do, please let me know. Information you need, help in research, whatever, I'll do it. And Mother has a circle of friends who have nothing whatever to do. The sooner this is over, the sooner I know you'll be safe."

"Thank you," she said. "That's very kind of you."

The double bedroom doors had stayed open and they walked through them. Sara and Jack were in the kitchen, pretending to be interested in whatever they weren't doing, but they sprang to life when Kate and Alastair appeared.

At the front door, they exchanged good-nights, with many thanks from Alastair. He and Jack spoke of meeting with Mrs. Stewart to discuss the new plans that would have to be drawn up.

Alastair started to kiss Kate on the lips but she turned her head sideways so he reached her cheek.

After he was gone, Sara and Jack went back to the family room. Kate followed them. "Well? You two aren't going to say anything?"

"I'll be glad to sell all the houses," Jack said, but he didn't look at her.

She turned to her aunt. "You have something to say, so tell me."

"He sure is good at courting," Sara said. "First you, then Jack. I guess I'm next. Wonder what he has planned for me."

"I hope it's fruit," Jack said.

"I hope it's blank paper," Sara said. "I have a lot of things to write down."

"I hope it's an invitation to move in with him," Kate snapped. She went to her bedroom and firmly shut the doors behind her.

If she hadn't had such a long day, she would have had difficulty sleeping, but as it was, she was soon out.