*“I’m expected at Mander Lane,” Tarek said when he came back to the living room.
He’d taken another call in the office. He’d been on and off the phone in there all morning.
Kyra stopped pacing. She’d been unable to relax since this incident with Silva and the police. Anxious and unsettled, she kept double-checking the locks on the doors and peering out the windows. She’d felt Tarek watching her, either concerned or annoyed. She couldn’t tell. He’d made her breakfast, but she couldn’t eat. He’d told her to lie down, but she couldn’t sleep.
“Now?” she asked.
“Mmmhmm,” he hummed, his lips pressed in a line. “Are Grace and Charlie back? Can you go there?”
Kyra shook her head. She’d called them. They were on the mainland for the day, seeing a specialist for Charlie’s diabetes.
“They’ll be back this afternoon.”
“I can drop you off somewhere. Or have an officer stationed here.”
“The local police don’t give me much sense of safety.” Kyra swallowed. “Maybe I can come with you?”
I could speak with Chase Hawthorn. The thought popped into her head. Tarek hasn’t been shy about seizing an opportunity when he sees one. But she still felt a tiny bit guilty for using him. Tarek narrowed his eyes at her.
“I can see the animals? Pick up some things at the farmer’s market.” She raised her shoulders helplessly, playing on his sympathies. Kyra was sure he was going to say no.
Tarek let out a long breath and nodded. “Yeah. Let me call ahead. Get your things.”
*
They drove past the turnoff for the airport. Kyra smiled to herself. She was learning her way around the island.
Tarek cleared his throat. “The call I took in your office?” he said, glancing at her. She nodded for him to continue. “We’ve confirmed via his credit card statements that Brendan bought ferry tickets at Woods Hole on Sunday morning, right before the nine thirty ferry departed. It’s likely he took that boat. We’re questioning the crew. They also found his rental car parked at the Palmer lot. It was due to be returned on Tuesday.”
Kyra nodded. This isn’t news. Obviously, Brendan was on the island. He died here, and presumably he had intended on returning home at some point.
“The team also checked the Hawthorn family. Chase took one of the Cape Air flights to Logan on Sunday at two p.m. So, it is possible they missed each other, but there was also a window where they overlapped and were both on the island. Margot Hawthorn has been on the island since early April. She’s come and gone a few times, but mostly she’s been here. The senator arrived by private plane on Saturday morning from DC.”
“So, they were all here when Brendan died, except Chase. But we knew that already.”
“No, we don’t know exactly when Brendan died, just when the fire was set.”
Kyra pressed her lips together. “You think he and Brendan fought, Chase shot him, and then left the island?”
“Not necessarily. But Chase’s alibi isn’t as airtight as we thought. He could have intentionally caused a scene in Boston to have his photo taken, creating an alibi.”
Kyra contemplated Tarek’s theory. “And the fire?”
“Someone else could have set it.”
“But why?”
Tarek shrugged. “To protect him? Destroy evidence?”
Kyra mulled on that. It is possible. “What about Adele and Dr. Brian? When did they arrive?”
“The team is looking into that now. In the meantime, knowing what we do about Wetun, Brendan’s general involvement with every aspect of this case, the wind farm, and now the trajectory of the storm in January, I want to get more specific information about the family’s activities last Sunday and on January third. I’m speaking to the senator, his wife, Chase, and some of the staff.”
“But not Adele and Brian?”
“The team hasn’t been able to get in touch with them yet.”
“And Brody?”
Tarek cocked his head. “I’ve asked for his travel records, but that may be more difficult to get. The military protects its own.” He grimaced. “With any luck, the Lees flew into the private airfield, but we’ll also check the commercial flights and ferry manifests. If they walked onto a ferry, though, it’ll be difficult to confirm without a warrant to pull financial records. I’m betting that Brian Lee wouldn’t stoop so low as to walk onto a ferry with the commoners.”
Based on her experiences with the Lees, Kyra agreed.
“But even if they were on the island, other than the husband’s tenuous connection for buying stock, I don’t see how they could be connected.”
“If Dr. Brian learned about my father’s story and that Brendan was a source, that information getting out could cause the stock to tank, and he’d lose a lot of money, right?” Kyra shook her head. “No, that’s shit. He could just sell the stock.”
“I’ll learn a lot from what the Hawthorns don’t say over the next few hours.”
“You think they’ll talk to you?”
“This is just an informal meeting, information gathering. They can decline to speak to me if they want, but if the Hawthorns aren’t forthcoming, I’ve enough to make a formal inquiry. And if it gets to that, those interviews won’t be in the comfort of their living room.” Tarek turned onto the long gravel drive and drove up to the house.
The Porsche was still in the driveway. A blanket of yellow pollen dulled the red paint to a burnt orange.
“I’ll go down to the market,” Kyra said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Are you sure?” He ran his eyes over her face. “Grover knows you’re with me. I’m sure…” His voice trailed off.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. If you need anything, call me. Immediately.”
Kyra nodded and walked down the drive.
There were a few cars in the parking lot. Kyra peeked inside the farm stand, cramped with shoppers, and decided to wait at the restaurant.
It wasn’t busy, just a few tables were occupied. Kyra was waiting for the hostess when she spotted Sara sitting at a table in the corner, surrounded by papers and her laptop, her forehead scrunched in concentration. When she looked up, Kyra raised her hand in a wave. Sara’s eyes widened with recognition, and she waved back. Sara slid aside a stack of papers and offered Kyra the empty seat.
“Hi,” Kyra said, sitting down.
“Hi. Are you the chauffeur again?”
“No, more like a babysitting charge.” Kyra shrugged. “I’m just waiting for the detective. He’s interviewing the family. Do you have to speak with him?”
“Yes, I think they have me as one of the first ones.” Sara checked her watch. “I hope it’s quick. My mare is about ready to drop her foal, and I’d rather be with her.”
“Will she be okay?”
“Oh, yes.” Sara nodded, her excitement palpable. “She’s healthy, and the vet and Chase are with her now.”
Kyra wondered why the senator’s playboy son would help deliver a baby horse, or why Sara seemed pleased that he was there. Maybe I can sneak down and talk to him.
“Would you like something else, Sara?” a waitress asked and picked up a plate containing the remnants of Sara’s lunch.
“Can I have some tea? Would you like some?” she asked Kyra.
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
“Two teas, Jill.” The waitress nodded and disappeared.
“What are you working on?” Kyra asked, glancing at the pile of papers Sara had moved aside.
“Scheduling.” Sara took the pages, fanning them out and frowned. “I’m already short-staffed this summer, and Margot wants to host events. You know, like weddings.” Sara closed her eyes, her expression pained. “She wants to demo the old barn and set up a pergola or tents. Thank goodness we have to wait until the police are done with their investigation. I hope it takes months.” Sara went quiet, and her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I want them to find out what happened to Brendan as soon as possible.” She bit at her fingernail and glanced up at Kyra a frown tugging at her mouth.
Kyra remembered the tasks board in Sara’s living room. She didn’t begrudge her for not wanting to take on more work.
“Did you know him? Brendan?” Kyra asked.
“No, not really. I met him a few times last fall when he came to the island with Chase. He was very clean.”
Clean?
Jill returned with their tea. She set it down along with a plate of French Macarons.
Sara’s whole face transformed with a wide grin. “Thank you.”
Jill gave them an indulgent nod.
“They’re my favorite,” Sarah said to Kyra. “Especially the pistachio.” She popped the green cookie in her mouth. “I really don’t know why Brendan would have been at the old barn.”
“What do you mean?”
“When he’s here, Chase splits his time between working here on the farm and at the marina. Brendan didn’t seem interested in Mander Lane. The guys from DC rarely are. He preferred to stay at the house or go into town.” Sara huffed. “The few times Chase convinced him to come to the fields, he’d complained.” She grabbed another cookie.
Ah, clean. Sara’s two-way radio handset bleeped.
“Sara,” she said, pressing the button on the side.
“It’s Beth. They’re ready for you in the senator’s office.”
“I’ll be right there.” Sara closed her computer and collected her things. “What will you do?”
“Might I go see the animals?”
“Oh, sure. Just say you spoke with me, and no one will trouble you. I’ll see you later.”
After paying for her tea, Kyra followed the path she and Tarek had taken a few days earlier. Kyra was watching the antics of two tiny lambs playing along the fence when she ran smack into a broad chest. She stumbled back. Hands reached out, grasping her shoulders, steadying her.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” she stammered and looked up. And up.
Chase Hawthorn was very tall.
His hands fell to his sides. “Are you okay?” he asked, squinting at her.
“Oh, yes. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” Kyra waved to the lambs.
He rubbed his forehead and stared at her, like he was trying to place her. She watched as recognition seeped into his handsome features, smoothing them out.
“You’re Grover’s friend. The one with the police.” He stepped back, increasing the distance between them, and wiped his hands on a dirty rag he’d pulled from somewhere. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
Now that she could see them properly, she noticed they were a startling blue-green, the color of an alpine lake.
“Sort of. Mr. Grover was a friend of my father. I’m not really with the police. I’m just hanging out while the detective speaks with your family. I thought I’d visit the animals while I wait. Sara said one of the horses was in labor?”
A muscle in Chase’s cheek twitched. He pulled his baseball cap off and dragged his dirty hands through his shaggy blond hair. Chase’s eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, his features gaunt and hollowed out. He looked like a man who was barely holding on.
He slapped the hat back on, brim forward, and walked over to the fence. Propping one leg up on the lower rail, he rested his elbows on the top one and leaned against it. She came up beside him, mirroring his stance, and looked out at the pasture.
Chase waved toward the corrugated metal and plastic barn. “She was. Marigold had her baby about twenty minutes ago. A boy.”
“Really?” She smiled. “Are they okay?”
“The vet said they’re both perfect.” Kyra noted the hint of pride in his voice. “Sara will be sad she missed it.”
“What will you do with the foal?”
“He’ll live on the farm. We’ll train him up as a pleasure horse, I think.”
“For you?” she asked.
With his stylishly unruly hair and movie-star good looks, Kyra had a hard time seeing him as a farmhand.
“I’m not much of a rider, but maybe.” Chase shrugged. “It’s Sara’s call, but she might let me help.”
“I didn’t know you worked here. On the farm, I mean.”
“I don’t officially, but I try to help out when I can. My dad doesn’t think it’s a bad idea, but my mom…” He broke off like he’d said too much. He shook his head, then looked in the direction of the charred skeletal remains of the old barn.
Kyra followed his gaze. “You know, I really am sorry about Brendan.”
He stiffened and turned to face her, suspicion darkening his eyes. “You knew him?”
“No, but my dad did. I think they were friends, or at least colleagues.”
“What do you mean?” There was a new hardness to his voice. “Who’s your dad?”
“Edward Gibson. He was working with Brendan, but he died last January.” She chose her next words carefully. “Last January, he fell off your family’s boat and drowned.” She kept her voice neutral, trying not to be unnecessarily cruel, but observed his reaction as he absorbed her words.
Chase went rigid. With something that sounded like a hiccup or a sob, he dropped his head, his chin almost to his chest. “Oh … I didn’t know,” he said, his voice low, strained, and raspy. He took a few deep breaths, then he straightened to his full height. He repeated his words louder, his tone laced with anguish. “I didn’t know Ed was your dad.” The way he said her father’s name, Kyra realized Chase had known him. He looked at her. His eyes darted back and forth between hers, like he was trying to read her or make her understand.
“I don’t remember being on The Pearl that night.” Chase shifted his weight and looked away. He coughed.
Kyra shifted again, dropping her foot to the ground.
Does he think he could have had something to do with Ed’s death?
“How did Ed know Brendan?”
“They were working on a story together. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the Cape Cod wind farm.” Kyra frowned.
She probably shouldn’t be sharing this with him. He was one of the detective’s most likely suspects for both murders. She glanced toward the barn. They were alone. She was suddenly aware of how close she was to Chase. If he had killed Ed and Brendan, he’d kill me too. She stepped away, just out of reach of his long arms. He didn’t seem to notice.
“The detective and I found my father’s case notes.” She watched him closely, but he didn’t react. “Do you know anything about it? The offshore wind farm?”
“Brendan.” He swallowed, then tried again. “Brendan used to work for a wind company. He was big into clean energy. He mentioned the Cape program a few times, but something changed last fall.”
“What changed?”
“I’m not sure. He just didn’t support the offshore wind project anymore.” Chase shrugged. “And he didn’t want to talk about it.”
“You and Brendan were close, then?”
Chase stilled, and a muscle in his cheek ticked. Kyra got the impression he was deciding whether he could trust her.
“He worked for my dad.” Chase kept his eyes glued to something in the distance. “All I remember about that night, the night Ed died, is drinking at the Nest. Margot had been on my case for days. I don’t even remember about what. I took a cab into Edgartown just to get away from the house. I do that often. I drank there and woke up at home the next day. And Brendan,” he continued, his voice scratchy and raw, “I didn’t know he was coming to the island. I’d spoken to him the night before, told him Margot was giving me shit about the campaign and some fundraiser. He never mentioned he was coming. I went to the city to get away.” He shook his head. “We had plans to meet in a few weeks. If I’d known he was here…” He sucked in a ragged breath.
Chase’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his back pocket. “Yeah?” He listened and hung up. “I’m being summoned by your boss.” He looked at her, his eyes wary. “Are you coming?”
Kyra thought of saying no, but she heard the soft plea in his voice like he was asking for anyone to have his back. He’s so broken.
She nodded before she fully thought it through. “I can walk with you.”
Gratitude shone in his eyes.
Kyra walked beside him, taking care to stay in the center of the path. Chase stuffed his hands in his pockets and rounded his shoulders, becoming smaller, like he was collapsing in on himself. If he noticed Kyra kept a wide distance between them, he didn’t say anything.
“Chase, did Brendan ever mention my dad?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What about a woman named Dr. Alonda?” Chase stopped walking. He pulled his hands from his pockets and adjusted his hat.
“Maria Alonda?”
“You know her?”
“No, but Brendan mentioned her once or twice. I think she was an old boss, or mentor. They had a falling out last fall. I’m not sure about what.” Chase pressed his lips together. “It happened just before we came here for the weekend actually,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “I only remember because he was in a terrible mood the whole weekend. He spent most of the weekend working. He took my car one day.”
“Do you know what he was doing?”
“He said sightseeing.” Chase shrugged, his expression pained. “He ended up flying home early.”
They arrived at the back door. Chase stared at the doorknob as if mentally preparing for whatever came next.
Kyra placed her hand on his arm. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to find out what happened to Brendan. And my dad.”
Chase lowered his gaze to hers, his expression wary, but something flickered behind his eyes. Kyra thought it might be hope.
Beth pulled the door open and ushered him in. “Chase, they’ve been asking for you.” Kyra stood frozen on the threshold. “Please come in. It’s freezing out there.” Beth shut the door behind them. “Margot wants you cleaned up before you speak with the authorities. She’s already upstairs.” Beth wrung her hands together.
“Bye, Ms. Gibson,” Chase said, and disappeared down the hall.
“Hi,” Beth said with a shaky smile. “How’s Marigold? Sara said you were looking in on her?”
“Chase said she and the foal are doing well. She had a little colt. I didn’t see them, though. How are the interviews going?”
“Well enough, I suppose. Mr. Grover was taking questions while they waited for Chase. Mrs. Hawthorn is last.”
What I wouldn’t give to see Margot put in her place.
“They’ve asked for coffee while they wait.” Beth pulled two trays from a cabinet.
“I can help,” Kyra offered, thinking she might be able to sneak in, hear what Chase and Margot had to say.
“Oh, thank you.” Beth gave her a grateful smile. Kyra imagined Beth didn’t get offers for help often. “The cups and saucers are in there.” She pointed to a cabinet. “I hope the detective is easy on Chase,” Beth said as she added coffee grounds to a pour over coffeemaker. “It hasn’t been easy for him, you know.”
“It hasn’t?”
“Not just with Brendan or even the rumors around Mr. Gibson’s death earlier this year.” Beth cast a sympathetic look at Kyra. “He’s trusted the wrong people in the past. It’s gotten him into trouble. Drinking and drugs, the media. He’s constantly being watched, judged.” Beth set down the carafe and looked at her hands. “I’ve known him his whole life. He’s not the person the media makes him out to be. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a person. Not on purpose.”
Kyra stopped pouring milk into the porcelain creamer and set the carton down. “Not on purpose? What do you mean?”
“I didn’t mean that.” Beth’s words came out in a rush. “I’m just. He…” Beth looked at Kyra. “Chase wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I’d better get this to them.” Beth lifted her heavily laden tray.
“I can take this one.”
Beth led Kyra down the hallway to a room with a closed door. She called out to Grover, and a moment later, he opened it, ushering them in.
The room was large, with mahogany wainscotting and hunter-green wallpaper. Oil paintings depicting hunting scenes in ornate frames hung on the walls. A large desk stained to match the wainscotting was set to the back of the room, and a tufted leather couch was pushed up against a wall. She felt like she’d left the real world and wandered into the Monopoly man’s office, a parody of elegance and power.
On the far side of the room was a conference table where Detective Collins and Grover were conducting the interviews. Beth beelined for a credenza sitting against the wall behind them. Tarek raised an eyebrow at Kyra and his lip quirked like he was trying not to smile. She inclined her head to the tray. I’m helping. And eavesdropping. Kyra followed Beth to the back of the room to set up the coffee service.
The door banged open, slamming against the wall. Kyra jumped, nearly overturning the carafe, but righted it just in time. Beth froze. Margot Hawthorn strode into the room.
Society pages described the senator’s wife as “stunning,” but today, her angular features were pinched and severe. She swept into the room on a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and stalked to the table where Tarek was reading over some documents. Margot smoothed her designer skirt and took a seat.
“Your son was next,” Tarek said, turning his attention back to his notebook.
“Our attorney.” She leveled a glare at Mr. Grover. “Excuse me, our personal attorney, has advised my son to decline to speak with you until he is present. As he is in Washington, you won’t be speaking with my son today.”
Margot’s gaze fell on Kyra and her nose wrinkled in distaste. She glanced away, dismissing her. “Beth, coffee.”
“Of course, Margot.” Beth poured two cups of coffee and glanced at the detective.
“Black, one sugar,” Kyra whispered, and Beth nodded her thanks.
“Proceed, Detective,” Margot said, the words dripping from her lips like acid.
Kyra pressed back against the wainscotting, surprised she hadn’t been asked to leave. Beth placed Margot’s coffee in front of her and took a position next to Kyra against the wall.
“Thank you for your time today, Mrs. Hawthorn.”
“I didn’t have much choice, Detective.”
“What was your relationship with Brendan Delaney?” He pushed a photo of Brendan across the table.
“I had no relationship with Mr. Delaney.” Margot didn’t even glance at the photograph.
“Have you ever met him?”
“I couldn’t say. My husband has many associates, and we often entertain, but I don’t recall this particular man.”
“Then you didn’t know he was coming to Mander Lane Farm last Sunday?”
“Certainly not.”
“Where was your son the night Brendan died?”
Margot clenched her teeth. “In Boston. You know that. There are photographs in the newspapers.”
“But your son seems to think Brendan came to the island to see him. Did Brendan come to the house to see if Chase was home?”
“I don’t know why you would think that. I do not know what business my son would have had with my husband’s employee. As I’ve already told you, I have no recollection of seeing that man at this house or anywhere else, on any occasion.”
Tarek nodded. “How about January third?”
“What about it?”
“Where were you on January third?”
“Where was I?” she repeated and frowned. “Grover, where was I?” Grover consulted a diary in front of him.
“You were here, ma’am. You had tea with your winter book club and afternoon meetings with Beth and Sara regarding the spring scheduling for Mander Lane.”
“Well, there you go.” Margot waved her hand at the book.
“What about your son? On January third?” Tarek asked.
“Chase was in town.”
“Where?” Tarek prompted.
“My son was in Edgartown, at a restaurant. I’m afraid I don’t know the name,” Margot said with a sigh. “It’s not an establishment I would frequent.”
Kyra wondered what kind of establishments this witch would deign to frequent. Executions? Human sacrifices? Fur farms?
“You can’t remember where you were on January third, but you remember where your son was?” Tarek countered.
“Yes. He’s my son. He’s more important to me than a book club. I do remember we read and discussed a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt.”
“Do you know what time he returned home that night?”
“I believe it was nine or ten. Why? What does this have to do with my husband’s employee?”
“You saw him come home then?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know what time he came home?”
“Detective, there was a storm.” Margot pressed her fingers to her forehead, between her eyes, and breathed out a heavy sigh. “Everything was closed, and residents were instructed to stay indoors. My son is a responsible young man. He would not have been out if the authorities had ordered us home.”
Her story sounded rehearsed. They’ve probably been telling the same one for months.
“So, you really cannot confirm his whereabouts that evening.”
“I told you, Detective, my son was home by ten. Are you calling me a liar?”
“Were you acquainted with Edward Gibson?”
“The reporter? Barely.”
“Care to elaborate, Mrs. Hawthorn?”
“I believe he played golf with my husband and Grover. He’s been a guest at our house here and in DC, but I’ve never had more than a brief conversation with him. He has a house somewhere in Edgartown, I think.”
Kyra bit back a retort. What a bag o’ shite. Margot knows exactly where my house is. She’d made that clear at the fundraiser.
“He was writing a story about Wetun Energy. Do you know the company?” Tarek asked.
“I cannot say that I do.”
“What about Maria Alonda?”
Margot’s cheek twitched at the executive’s name. “No. Does she work for the company?” Did she pause?
“She’s the CEO.”
“Perhaps.” Margot raised a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “My husband is on the energy committee. It’s possible we’ve crossed paths. Did this woman kill Mr. Gideon or Mr. Delaney?”
Kyra’s body went rigid.
“Gibson,” Tarek corrected. “She attended your husband’s campaign party.”
“There were many attendees that I’m not personally acquainted with. Case in point, you were there.”
Touché, you icy harpy. Kyra begrudgingly gave the woman credit.
“Brendan Delaney was an ex-employee of Wetun Energy Industries.” Tarek pushed a paper across the table. “Senator Hawthorn was investigated by the Department of Justice for inappropriate conduct. Was your husband taking bribes from Wetun Energy in exchange for supporting their bid for a wind-farm contract?”
Margot ignored the paper. “My husband was cleared of those ridiculous rumors.” Margot’s voice rose. Her hand came down on the table with enough force to rattle the cups on their saucers. “Philip has the utmost integrity. He cannot be bought.” He’d rattled her.
“What about the other committee members?” Tarek prodded.
“I can assure you, I do not know,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Are you happy with the work being done for you by Wes Silva’s company?”
Silva? Where’s Tarek going with this? Even Grover sat straighter in his chair.
“Of course,” Margot responded, surprised. “He’s an excellent contractor. This house is entirely carbon neutral, and the new barn will also meet our strict sustainability requirements.”
“What do you mean by sustainability?”
“Mander Lane is entirely organic and renewable. We only employ growing and husbandry practices that balance the current use of the land against the future need. Sara can explain it in greater detail, but we’re very proud of our accomplishments here.” Margot recited the words like she had said them a thousand times—without emotion or entirely understanding what they meant.
Kyra remembered the bottles and vials of chemicals and antibiotics in Sara’s apartment.
“That’s very conscientious of you.”
Kyra suppressed a smile. No one else would have known Tarek was being sarcastic.
“Yes, it is,” Margot said. “Is that all? I’ve an engagement.”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hawthorn. You’re free to go. We’d like to speak with your daughter and her husband next.”
Margot didn’t respond. She pushed her chair back with a screech that had the hairs on the back of Kyra’s neck standing on end. The senator’s wife left the room, her heels clicking on the floor. Her coffee remained untouched.
“Well, that went better than I expected.” Grover gave Tarek a grim smile once Margot was out of earshot. He stretched, and his eyes found Kyra. “I apologize. Ed was a welcome guest. Margot was out of line.”
“Why pretend that she wasn’t acquainted with him, then?” Tarek asked.
Grover sat back in his seat. “Margot being Margot, I suppose.” Kyra got the sense that Grover often apologized for Margot.
“It’s fine.” Kyra turned to Beth, but Margot’s assistant had slipped out unnoticed. Tarek was gathering up his papers and Kyra approached the table. “Mr. Grover, is the house really carbon neutral?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just wondering how environmentally compliant Silva’s construction work really is.” She shrugged. “My dad had a system put in at the house, but I’m not sure it works properly.” She explained about the locked utility room and Wes had been dropping by unannounced to check the system.
Tarek stiffened when she glossed over this morning’s events. Grover glanced at Tarek, then the door.
Grover shifted uncomfortably. “Entirely off record?”
Tarek nodded and snapped shut his notebook. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I told Ed not to use Silva. He’s a con man. The systems all have traditional power access to supplement the geothermal and solar energy, but the reality is we power and heat this house on standard electricity and propane. The bills actually increased.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. His father ran the company and secured the contract with Mander Lane, but he retired before starting the job. Wes took over and leveraged the contract with the Hawthorns to secure new contracts for geothermal systems all over the island. He made promises that were too big to keep. Phil and Margot are working with off-island experts to fix the issues with the HVAC system, but they want to keep their dispute with Silva quiet. The optics would be terrible for the senator if it got out that he was duped on the energy contract for his own house. Doesn’t instill a ton of confidence in his judgment.”
“But you hired him to do the new barn?” Tarek asked.
“It’s a confidential settlement agreement. The family isn’t suing him, and in exchange for a release, he’s assisting in the build. We have an off-island expert in green agricultural construction overseeing the work. To his credit, Silva has cooperated with us.”
Kyra could see the practical benefit of the arrangement, even if it sounded insane.
As if reading her thoughts, Mr. Grover raised his palms to the ceiling. “It sounds complicated, but politics is ninety-nine percent public perception.” Grover’s phone buzzed and he checked the screen. “Hmm, Adele and Brian are at the yacht club. I can have a car bring them here if you like?”
“No, thank you. I can follow up with them there.” Tarek slid his notebook into his pocket.
“I’ll let them know to expect you.”
“Are you ready?” Tarek asked Kyra.
She nodded, relieved to leave Mander Lane.
Kyra followed Tarek to the door when, impulsively, she turned around. “Thank you, Mr. Grover.” She extended her hand to him. “I’m not heading back to London for a few more days. It’d be nice if you came by the house sometime, just to chat about my dad. I’d like to hear some of your stories.”
“I’d like that, very much.” Grover gave her a sad smile and her hand a gentle squeeze.